VS - Act 3: The Endgame – “Kill or Be Killed”

Sixteen regular people kidnapped and forced to fight in a gruesome,
single elimination death tournament broadcast over the internet to anyone
who can afford the one million dollar pay per view.
This is the versus tournament where winning is the only
way to stay alive. Sound of basketball horn, then clicking
overtime clock.
One of you will die.
Please stop it.
I won't be aboard of this madness.
Sound of knife driving into flesh and cheerleader's dying screen.
The programmer, the dyke, the actor, the cheerleader, and the
sales guy won their opening match, each leaving a corpse
lying dead on the bloodstained canvas. All winners advance to
the semi finals, where they will be forced to fight again,
as will the winners of the three remaining first round matches.
Sound of baseball bats smacking against a head and the
dying grunt of the victim. Gangster will face bodybuilder. Old
Lady will square off against husband. But first the match,
many of the betters watching from the comfort of their
homes have been waiting for. It's Boss Lady versus the
Nazi jew. The lights, roll the cameras and let the
bedding begin. It's time for the versus tournament where every
match is sudden death. Sound of three strikes of a
boxing bell echoing to a fade, along with ominous music
broadcast angle insert tale of the tape. Boss Lady's picture
is from an interview with the Enforcer. Even her snapshot
is a scowl. The Nazis photo is clearly for this passport.
This poor German bastard was just out for a vacation,
but now he's me deep in the bracket.
He's six foot one but carrying a few extra pounds.
At two hundred and forty five and at forty seven
years old, he is no spring chicken and.
He probably won't reach forty eight by the looks of
this ball breaker. Boss lady owns her own business. And
look at this face book profile.
Quote insert boss Lady's Facebook page showing the quote below.
She has and I quote fought her way to the
top as a woman amongst an endless army of backstabbing
men announce her angle thatt campbell well for friends, certainly not.
She's a tall one at five foot ten, runs two
hours every morning and said she can bench press onoint eighty.
This cupcake is no cupcake.
If you know what I mean angle on canvas. The
two fighters old fire axes. The boss lady looks pissed.
The Nazi tries to look intimidating.
You don't come here of your woman, alright, will cut you?
Boss lady says nothing. The Nazi shouts to the rafters,
turning as he talks. Please let me out that only
came to America to see your country.
I don't want to fight.
He faces the announcer's table, turning his back to the
boss lady. She starts to walk toward him.
I have a job a citizen.
Boss lady starts to wind out.
This is the possible. It's up with the talk with.
The basketball horn sounds. The boss Lady is already swinging
the instant the basketball horn ends, Her axe drives into
the nazis head. The Nazi drops, twitching, completing broadcast angle announcers.
Holy cow, did you see that?
Donk you very much? One second? That's a new versus
tournament record.
Insert the bracket. Boss lady moves forward. The west bracket
is now set. Boss lady versus sales guy actor versus programmer.
Bracket image switches over to old lady versus husband. Then
insert teale of the tape. Old Lady and husband's photos
are both from interviews with Enforcer.
And now we go to the bottom half of the
East bracket. Coming up is this round's main event of
Gangster verus Bodybuilder. But first we'll do Old Lady versus Husband.
Husband is five nine one and seventy pounds and he
played college football. Is a wide receiver for Bamigie State University.
Buji.
Oh, Maggie, he's up against the little Dynamo, or at
least that's what she was back in the day.
He must have been something before electricity, mister Jones.
Old Lady is thirty pounds of her weight and stands
at five five.
She's like a potato with legs.
That spud is gonna get French fried, mister Jones, Let's
go to the.
Mat angle on canvas. Old Lady is on her knees,
crying and praying. A pair of gleaming six inch long
poultry shears sits in front of her. She's crying so
hard she can barely stay upright. Basketball horn sounds. Husband
is crestfallen. He can't believe what he has to do.
He slowly walks toward Old Lady.
Please forgive me for all the seeds I've done.
Miller.
Oh, it wasn't nice enough to my kids.
I know that husband stands over her. He is holding
the scissors as if they were a poisonous spider.
I want to see my grandchildren well be a part
of us.
I'm so sorry, holl.
Please give her strength.
Is that hand?
Husband kneels down behind old lady. He puts his left
arm around her. He's not sure how to do it,
how to kill her quickly? He holds the scissors in
his right hand, prepares to stab her in the neck.
Old lady flops forward weakly. The emotional husband doesn't see
her grab the scissors.
I'll try to make it quick.
She sits up, calmly jabs the scissors into husband's throat.
How's that for quick?
Fuck tarry.
She yanks the scissors free. Blood sprays all over her face.
Husband's hands clutch at his neck, trying to stem the
squirting blood, but it's too late. He falls back. Broadcast angle, girder,
that was shock thing.
Do you believe in?
Mira cools?
Yes, she is kaiser so saying what an upset Old
lady gives husband.
A throat full of chicken scissors to advance to the
next round.
Angle on canvass Old lady walks off as enforcer drags
away husband's body. She seems unfazed by the whole thing.
Broadcast angle, insert tail of the tape. Both Gangsta and
Bodybuilder's photos are from an interview with Enforcer.
And now for the fight we've been waiting for.
Versus tournaments always wind up with a couple of odds
on favorites that can really fight, and this tournament is
no exception. Gangsta certainly talks a good game, but can
he back it up. He's six with even one hundred
eighty pounds, and he's supposedly trying to go legit and
get a real job.
He better be too legit to quit, mister Jones, because
look at the monster he's up against. Bodybuilder is six
to two hundred and sixty pounds. He reportedly can bench
press two twenty five fifteen times, so he is strong
like bull.
And if you mess with the bull, you get the horns, right,
mister Smith.
Right you are, mister Jones, basketball horn sounds.
Let's go to the action.
Angle on canvas. Gangster and the Bodybuilders are slowly circling
light on their feet like professional boxers. They are holding
fireplace pokers. They are no longer hateful toward each other.
There is mutual respect, sadness, and understanding of what must
be done.
But before in the lobby, that wasn't real. This is
this ain't my choice, man, but I ain't going on
like this, and.
No, none of us have a choice.
I'm sorry man, me too.
This is a fight between two athletic men who know
how to move. They are not afraid of each other.
They dance for a bit, then Bodybuilder lands a blow,
gripping a huge gash in Gangster's shoulder. Blood flies everywhere.
Gangster falls but doesn't cry out. Bodybuilder moves in for
the killed the big overhead swing. Gangster rolls out of
the way just in time. Bodybuilder's poker point sticks in
the canvas platform from his prone position. Gangster sweeps out
with his poker and buries the point in Bodybuilder's foot.
Bodybuilder falls. He is now unarmed. Gangster hops up and
starts swinging his poker over and over at Bodybuilder's head.
Bodybuilder tries to fend off the glows, but after a
couple of partial blocks, the poker point drives through his head.
He screams and pain. He knows he's done for. Gangster
swings again and buries the point in Bodybuilder's head. The
point sticks. Bodybuilder twitches as Gangster puts a foot on
his head to private poker free broadcast angle girder.
Here the drummer gets wicked.
I ain't saying nothing, but that ain't right.
Gangster keeps swinging, crushing the bodybuilder's skull, even though the
man is clearly dead.
He gry no moss, but I think being dead qualifies
as a speech impediment.
Angle on canvas. Enforcer runs onto the warehouse floor. He
has to shock Gangster to get him to stop. Gangsta
stumbles to his cage. Broadcast angle gred.
Wow, that was everything we thought it would be. Gangster
is definitely the guy to beat now.
Picture changes to close up of Gangster in his cage,
holding his right shoulder with his left hand. There is
a lot of blood. Gangster is in pain.
Not so fast, mister Jones. Just take a look at
that wound. Gangster is losing blood fast.
You can't hold your mud louden.
Well, folks, that's the end of round one. As you know,
all bets you've placed at the beginning are still valid,
but we'll recalibrate the odds for round two. Feel free
to put even more money on the line. We'll post
the new odds right after promoter says a few words.
Angle on Canvas. Promoter is standing on the platform, which
is now badly stained with blood, bits of bone, and
clumps of brains. The enforcer and executioner stand with him.
Congratulations, you have made it to the round of eight.
You've shown you have what it takes to survive. Now
you find a game to make it to the final four.
The rooms are the same when or.
Die, Anglo and Randall and Dana. They are clinging to
the doors of their cages, fingers locked in the chain link.
Let us go, Random, shut up, let us go, you motherfucker.
Fall less, you go, Programmer.
All you have to do is show three more people
when and you go free.
Good luck to you all.
Broadcast Angle the bracket with the victors filled in.
Well, mister Smith. Vegas has chimed in with the new odds.
The loss of old Man and Bodybuilder really shook things up.
Actor has jumped into the favorite role. He's got five
to one odds to win it. Gangsta is eight to one.
Which is surprising like your mama Gangster's got one ugly
gash Jones.
The rest of the odds are listed on your screen,
from the sales guy at ten to one all the
way down to old Lady at three hundred and fifty
to one.
Insert tail of the tape. Randall versus actor.
Actor remains a number one seed. He should dust the
programmer and move into the final four.
Picture switches to enforce her pushing a cart tossing cans
of Sudden Coronary Energy drink to the survivors.
And look at that.
The survivors get to fuel up with Sudden Coronary Energy drinks,
which does not endorse this tournament in any way, shape
or fashion. That's Sudden Coronary Energy drinks for those that
don't really care about living past the age of thirty.
Insert Randall's cage lock turns from red to green. The
cage door slowly swings open. Get out there till you
have to over the shoulder shot camera follows Randal as
he stumbles out of the cage in a daze. He
walks to the platform. On the platform sits new weapons,
heavy chains. He picks up the chain with a shape hand.
Angle on Actor. He won't come out of his cage.
I won't do it. I won't kill another human being.
Actor grabs his neck as he's shocked jave. He clutches
the chain link cage with his fingers. He's fighting it,
taking a shock. The shock grows more and more intense,
but his will cannot be broken.
Ah.
Finally the enforcer stops. Actor slides to the ground. Actor
extends one hand and gives the bird.
Go ahead, kill me. I won't do it.
Got to interior monitor room.
I believe he is serious.
So am I.
I have to wonder if he has some other motive,
don't you.
Other motive doesn't matter if he does, He's the favorite now.
People want to see him fight. Don't worry. This ain't
my first rodeo. Got to interior warehouse. Angle on Actor,
lying limb, Actor.
You need to fight. I won't play this sick game.
Just shoot me.
It's not you that will shoots. Kindly turn your attention
to the announcer's screen.
Actor looks up, seems worried. Angle on the screen beside
the announcers. The bracket fades away, replaced by a series
of Facebook photos. A little boy on a swing set,
same boy with a birthday cake, Same boy laughing, being
lifted and held by actor. Actress stunned. It's his son.
I believe you know this, handsome young lad.
How did you idiots put your entire lives online for
the whole world to see.
We know so much about you.
He's just a little kid.
You wouldn't beat. The show must go on.
He's just a child.
Announcer's screen splits, showing both the series of sun photos
and promoter's white mask face.
Important people paid their money to watch this tournament. If
I don't put on a show, those people will be
angry with me. If they get angry with me, I
get angry with you.
You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. Actor.
I can't.
I can't kill again.
If you kill the programmer, your child lives. If you die,
either by the executioner's bullets or the programmer's hand.
Then we will kill your son.
After knods he has no choice and he knows it.
Oh, come on.
If I win, I don't just kill him, I kill
his son.
Actor is a quitter.
If his son's life isn't on the line, he just
walk onto the platform and lets you bash his brains.
In with him. The audience paid to see fighting, not suicide.
Actor stands, takes a deep breath, strides out to the canvas.
He picks up the heavy chain. It dangles as he talks.
Programmer, I got no choice.
My name is Randall.
Yes, Randall, I.
My son.
This is bullshit.
So if I win, I'm actually killing two people.
That's not fair.
The hand you've been doubts programmer.
Money, he's Randal, motherfucker.
Basketball horn sounds. Actor wastes no time. He rushes to
attack Randall duck's Actor's first swing and the following backhand.
Actor presses the attacks. He times a swing that smashes
into Randall's neck. Randall's collar saves him from a broken windpipe.
Actor swings the chain, wraps it around Randall's left foot
and yanks. Randall falls. Actor jumps on. Randall punches him
in the face three times. Blood pours from Randall's nose
and mouth. Randal jabs his thumb into actor's eye. These
men are fighting for their lives. Actor screams and rears back.
Randall wraps his chain around Actor's neck pulls as hard
as he can. Randall is priminate, panicked, fighting on pure
instinct and desperate will to live. Actor gasps, chokes. He
claws at the chain, but his fingers can't move the metal.
Actor struggles, weakens, Randall keeps pulling.
Actor's eyes bulge out.
He is dead. Broadcast a girder, and.
That's why they play the game.
If it bleeds, we can kill it.
Does Marcellus Wallace look like a bitch.
Mister Smith, Well, he looked because the programmer just.
Traded him like a bitch. What a sucker.
The programmer is the first member of the Final four.
Keep in mind this guy was a last second edition.
Then he was a ninety to one odds to win.
Insert the bracket. Randall's name moves into the Final four slot.
Angle on canvas. Randal's stumbles back to his cage. He
is going insane. He has brutally killed two people in
the last half hour. Dana has no words to offer
him this time. She sits with her arms around her knees,
rocking back and forth, mumbling to herself. Insert Old Lady's
cage block turns from red to green, door swings open.
Insert Gangsta's cage block. Turns from red to green. Door
swings open. Gangsta stumbles out of his cage. His arm
is a sheet of blood. Where he once looked cocky
and angry, he now looks like he can barely stay conscious.
He falls onto the platform, smearing his blood on the canvas.
He stands and picks up his weapon, a lead pipe.
A shaking Gangsta slowly looks up to face his opponent.
Old Lady is holding a lead pipe. Basketball horn sounds
agle on canvas. Gangsta stumbles forward, swings. Old Lady shows
she surprisingly nimbled, moves out of the way fast. Gangsta falls.
She moves fast for an old lady.
Here's more to this girl than meets the eye, mister.
Smith, Old Lady winds up and hits Gangsta in the head.
Her swings aren't strong, but are steady, efficient, methodical. Repeated
strikes take their toll. After repeated blows, Gangsta skull caves
in respects your elders ass whole. Old Lady stops, drops
the pipe, then spits on gangstamp. She walks off the canvas,
holding both hands high and the number one symbol broadcast angle.
Girder take her off A little something something mister Jones.
You say potato, I say that's one bad grandmotherfucker.
Two upsets in a row. This could be the versus
tournament of all time.
Anyone who bets you could make it in the final four.
Just rate.
In the dough angle on Randall, he falls into a
fetal position, then reaches for his collar. He pauses, knowing
a shock will come, but he has to try again.
He grabs it, preparing to take the shock and try
to rip off the collar, but no shock comes. He
quickly lets go, as if he's been caught doing something wrong.
He grabs it again, slowly, this time still no shock.
Hey, hey, listen, what leave me alone?
My collar is broken? No shocks what. Dana reaches up
and grabs her collar. It shocks her. Oh god, damn it.
It must have happened when the actor hit me in
the throat. Keep quiet about it. Maybe it will give
us a chance.
A buzz sounds as Dana's locks, which is from red
to green. She stands and hung low, she starts to cry.
She walks onto the platform. The weapons are crowbars. Jana
picks hers up and waits. After a pause, cheerleader comes
running out of her cage, hands clutching at her collar it.
Cheerleader gets on the platform. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying.
Mascaris streaks her face.
Please, lady, then fight.
I don't want to fight.
I can't help you.
Basketball horn sounds no. Dana looks to Randall. He is
in his cage, fingers clutched in the chainling fence door.
He can't help no one.
Can somebody please?
Please?
Holp Me.
Is almost hyperventilating. She lets out a primal roar and
rushes forward. Cheerleader screams in terror, does a cartwheel away.
Dana stops, Surprised, she rushes cheerleader again. Cheerleader does flips
across the canvas. She is going to stay away and
is faster than Dana. Cheerleader's moves look oddly normal in
her uniform. Dana's expression changes from sadness, fear, and surprise
to anger. She's not going to die because this girl
won't fight. Dana rushes forward again. The cheerleader flips away.
As she finishes her flip, Dana throws the crowbar. It
hits the cheerleader in the face. Cheerleader falls. Dana picks
up her crowbar and swings twice more with sharp, strong strokes,
the crowbar's claw head punching into cheerleader's face. Dana tries
to pull it free, but it is stuck. The effort
lifts cheerleader's head off the mat. The girl's eyes are
still blinking when they close. Dana, let's go. The girl
falls to the canvas dead. Dana runs back to her cage.
Broadcast angle announcers.
Doing it and doing it and doing it well. The
dyke is in the final four.
You have to think she's a lot for the finals,
mister Smith, Old lady is a plucky broad but come on,
the dyke looks unstoppable.
Who knows, mister Jones. Maybe old Lady luck will win again.
Picture switches to photos of Boss Lady and sales guy.
We're down to our final second round match.
Picture switches to shot of boss ladies striding out to
the platform. In set the tail of the tape between
Boss Lady and sales guy.
Let's go down to the action.
Angle on canvas. Boss lady and salesguy prepare to fight.
They're holding branch cutters five foot long wooden chefs with
jagged twelve inch sauce.
On the end.
You ready to die, asshole?
I don't want to hurt you.
Well that works for me, because I certainly want to
hurt you.
She lunges at him, thrusting and stepping forward repeatedly. The
sales guy backpedals quick call. He was unprepared for such
a fast assault. Angle on Randall and Dana Louck. How
he mote. I'm telling me that this guy is good,
and what do you want me to do about it?
You better watch him? He could be facing him in
the finals. Him were you?
Randall says nothing, He hadn't thought that far ahead. Angle
on canvas. Salesguy circles around the outside edge of the platform.
The boss lady attacks constantly. Sales guy slips on the
edge and briefly loses his balance. Boss lady reaches out
and cuts sales guy across the lower legh broadcast angle
girder close shot of boss lady's snarling face.
Oh she drew.
First watch He's a bitch, mister Jones, and we wouldn't
want it any other way.
Angle canvas sales guy recovers, limping. His expression changes. He
spins the branch cutter like a martial arts staff. This
guy has combat skills angle on Randall nodding. Cut to
interior control room.
Knock it off, you idiot.
Is there a problem?
Uh no, no problem.
Cut to interior warehouse floor. Boss Lady attacks again, but
salesguy parries and goes on the offensive. He stabs a
couple of times, then swings an overhand attack. Boss Lady
lifts her trimmer to block Salesguy's trimmer, snaps hers in half.
The blow cuts her face. The lower half of her
trimmer skits to a halt in front of Randall's cage.
Broadcast Angle Girder close shot on Boss Lady. Half of
her face dangles from exposed skin and muscle. One hand
tries to push her bloody face back into place. The
other weekly brandishes a half length of trimmer. She's hurt, terrified.
I guess you could say sales guy trimmed her lead.
Oh that's bad.
Broadcast picture switches to wide shot of the fight. Salesguy
fakes low, drawing down Boss Lady's guard. Then he quickly
goes up his saw blade, slicing Boss Lady's throat. She falls,
hands clutching her gushing throat.
Oh yeah, bye bye baseball.
This one's over.
Sales guy throws down the branch trimmer limps back to
his cage. He seems like a completely different person. Angle
on Randall's cage, Randall is looking down at the broken
piece of trimmer shaft. Insert trimmer shaft. Randall can see
that the shaft is broken, but there are several neat
drill holes in addition to the splintered wood.
What the hell?
Randall looks up sees that the sales guy is looking
right at him with a cold, chilling stare. Their eyes meet.
Randal knows the fights are fixed for the sales guy,
and the sales guy knows that hand knows the force.
Our hustles out and picks up the broken shaft, then
drags away Boss Lady's body. Broadcast angle the bracket again,
only four names left Programmer, sales Guy, Dana, and old Lady.
And then there were four upset Central mister Jones, not
a one seed left in the tourney.
Angle on Randall's cage. Announcer's voices continue to rattle on
about the big matchups. Background noise, Hey, what I think
the sales guy's a plant? A plant?
What?
What what do you mean? Boss Lady's broken trimmer handle.
There were drew holes in it. What does that mean?
It means her weapon was sabotaged.
It was going to break the first time that she
used it to block. But why sales guys in this
the same as as.
It's gotta be the betting sales guy's a ringer.
They have this fixed.
So he wins?
Maybe, So what are you gonna do?
Randall thinks he has to get his mind around going
on the offensive instead of just fighting to stay alive.
I'm not gonna be there, Pond.
If I make a move, get you out of this cage?
Will you fight with me? You can get us out
of here.
I don't know. I'm done waiting here to die. If
I pull it off, you're gonna have to kill you.
Can't hesitate? Can do that?
Make it happen?
Blah.
Randall puts his hand palm up on the cage as
if he's pressing against a windowpane. Dana puts her hand up,
matching his. Their hands touched through the chain link fence.
It's not a love moment, but a bond forged through combat.
They're in this together. Insert Randall's lock. The light switches
from green to red medium shot slow motion on Randall.
He turns to walk out of the cage. He's not
the same terrified man he was a few hours ago.
A war ready to fight and die. Broadcast Angle girder,
mean faced Randal's stepping out of his cage and striding
to the platform.
Wow, just look at the programmer looks as mean as
a hungry werewolf with a cattle prod's depository.
He's not the same diary of a wimpy man we
saw in the beginning for Shizzle, but he's still got
to beat sales guy to reach the finals.
Angle on Canvas. Randal steps onto the platform. Sales guy
is standing there holding a sword. Salesguy is barefoot. His
bloody socks are tied tight around his ankle where Boss
Lady cut him. Randal looks down, reaches, comes up with
his own sword, inserts sword blade. There are several tiny
pinholes in Randall's blade. It will break the first time
Randall blocks a really strong hit. Cut to interior Control room.
Executioner is again seated, a new handkerchief on his chair.
The old handkerchief sits on the floor. Promoter is watching
the monitors, which show Randal closely examining the blade.
Oh shit, is there something wrong with his weapon?
Promoter realizes he almost let it slip again.
No, it's fine, don't worry about it.
Is there anything you'd like to share with me?
Huh no, No, let's just watch the fight.
Cut to interior warehouse angle on canvas. Sales guy is
trying to look afraid, but it's a bad acting job.
Basketball horn sounds. Randall turns, runs off the mat and
sprints at the enforcer. Enforcer is surprised. He pushes Randal's button,
but nothing happens. Momentarily confused, the enforcer pushes the button
again and again. As Randall closes in. The enforcer drops
the panel and reaches for his episcol, but it's too late.
Randal swings the enforcer, dives back, trips over his chair,
turn the chair over and landing on the other side.
Randal runs around behind the chair, drives the sword through
the enforcer's heart. Broadcast angle announcers, Oh, what the hell
is this?
That's not supposed to happen?
Angleone warehouse floor. Sales guy sees what happened, runs toward Randal.
Randall picks up the control panel that starts hitting buttons.
Insert Dana's cage. Her lock turns from red to green.
She comes rushing out. Insert old Lady's cage. Her lock
turns from red to green. The door swings open. An
evil smile creeps across her face. That's my good little geek.
Angle on canvas, Dana rushes onto the cannabis and grabs
Randall's sword. Sales guy sees her, slows down, trying to
keep his eye on the double thread of Randall and Dana.
Randall finds the sales guy's shock button. He hits it.
Sales guy just winces, come on, come on.
Hey, Mike, just low enough so I know what I'm
being shocked the idiot.
Cut to interior control room in middle ground Enforcer in background.
Enforcer heard what sales guy just said. He slowly reaches
for his luger. Up to interior warehouse floor. Broadcast Angle
announcers they don't know what to do?
What the fuck is saying in the script man.
As they stare, we see old Lady's hand reach into
the weapons bin. Normal angle. Sales guy rushes at Randal.
Randal realizes Enforcer has a gun. He tries to pull
it out of the holster. But it sticks. Salesguy closes
in swings. Randal ducks behind the chair that is between
him and the sales guy. Salesguy swing cuts into the chair.
It sticks a little. He tries to pull it free
as Randall again tries for enforcer's gun. Angle on announcers,
let's get the fuck out of here.
I heard that.
A shovel swings down hits mister Jones on the back
of the head. He falls clutching the now bleeding spot. Surprised,
mister Smith turns to face the attacker. Old Lady is
there with a bowie knife. Smith hesitates a moment. That's
all she needs. Old Lady stabs him in the stomach.
Mister Smith falls backward on top of mister Jones's legs.
Old Lady dives on mister Jones stabs him in the shoulder.
She pulls the knife out to strike again, but this
time he gets his hands up and grabs her wrists.
Old Lady snarls. The knife point covers just inches from
mister Jones's face and it's getting closer. Angle on Randal.
Sales guy pulls the sword free and swings again. Randal
falls back to his ass barely avoiding the blow, which
cuts into enforcer's corpse. Salesguy pulls the blade free, raises
it to strike. He's got Randal cold. Randal raises his
arm just as salesguy starts to swing down. A bloody
sword point juts out of his chest. Dana stabbed him
from behind. Salesguy falls.
Gosh, get that gunplay, let's fly.
Randal kneels down and tries to yank the gun free
from a holster. It's buttoned. He didn't notice as he
undoes the flap for motor runs out of the control room.
Dana smiles. She wants payback. She starts to move toward promoter,
but stops when there is a gunshot. Her forehead blows out.
In an exit room, no angle on. Executioner was a
few feet behind promoter. Executioner's luger is pointed, a curl
of smoke trailing out of the barrel. The executioner turns
to fire, but Randal pulls the enforcer's gun free and
fires off three hurried shots. Executioner dives for cover. Two
of Randall's shots miss, the third grazes Promoter in the arms.
Promoter spins and goes down a series of angles. Executioner
finds cover at the edge of the canvas. He rises
up and starts shooting yaw. Randall has to stay duck
behind the chair announcers platform. Old Lady is on top
of mister Jones, trying to drive the bowie knife into
his face. Trapped by both her weight and the weight
of mister Smith's body, he is barely holding her off.
He kicks, knocking over the weapons bin. A shovel bounces
across the floor, stopping near the executioner's feet. Executioner pops
up and fires three shots, barely missing Randal, who hides
behind the chair terrified, looking for a chance to shoot.
Promoter dives in front of the announcer's platform. In the foreground,
we see executioner aiming. In the middle ground, we see
old ladies struggling with mister Jones. In the background, we
see Randal trying to overcome his fear and get off
a shot promoter. Promoter crawls to Dana, pulls the sword
out of her hand, angle on Randall, terrified annaking, Randall
pops up and fires three shots as he moves to
hide behind the announcer's platform.
Old Lady get off from you, old bitch, Denny.
He's got a cheat for you.
Punk. She lets go of the knife with her right hand,
reaches down and punches mister Jones in the nuts. He
gasps in pain and his lose his strength. Old Lady
grabs the bowie knife with both hands and puts her
chest on top of the hilt, driving the knife points
slowly into mister Jones's heart.
Oh wait, oh god no.
Mister Jones twishes once, then dies. Promoter stands with the sword,
looking for somewhere to run. Executioner sees promoter, calmly stands,
aims at the white suited man.
Put the weapon down.
Randall. He comes round far side of announcer's table. He
has a clean shot on the executioner, who is looking
at the promoter. Randal stands has the drop on executioner.
Die, motherfucker.
Randall pulls the trigger, but his revolver clicks on empty.
He ain't that a pisser, and Randal die, motherfucker, and
old Lady ain't ache that a piss her?
Way bigger on both of those.
That was the sexy version.
Get so hi, motherfucker.
Randall pulls the trigger, but his revolver clicks on empty.
I'm a kisser.
Executioner pauses for only a second, then turns and shoots
Old Lady. She falls on top of mister Smith and
mister Jones Before Randall can react. Executioner aims the luger.
At him, come out of their programer now.
Randall pauses, then walks out, it's over.
Go ahead, get it over with.
No, I believe your services are still needed.
Promoter's left arm is pressed against his left leg. Bright
red blood stands his all white suit. He still holds
a bloody sword in his left hand.
What are you gonna do?
I'm not going to do anything. He's going to finish
the tournament.
You fucking moron. Who's he gonna fight? Huh? Everyone is dead.
Executioners slowly moves his aim from Randall to Promoter.
Not everyone.
Promoter realizes what's happening.
What in a way, you're a defending champion. I think
the audience would love to watch you defend your title.
Are you out of your mind? I'm not in the show.
I run the show.
Our customers paid to see a championship match. They're going
to see a championship match.
Just is ridiculous.
Kill the sound feed for a moment. Beat it's cut.
We're quiet, but still how visual.
Our employers suspected you are fixing the fights. That's why
they sent me to make sure you're at in a
proper fashion and to take care of things. If you
were not.
Fix the that's ridiculous.
He did fix it.
Sales guy was a plant.
Look at my sword.
Executioner keeps his aim on both of them as he
walks over to the enforcer and pulls Randal's sword out
of the dead body. Executioner looks carefully insert the tiny
pinholes in the sword. Executioner tosses the sword at Randall's feet.
You are correct, programmer.
I didn't know anything about that.
Executioner fires around at promoter's feet, interrupting the man's protest.
Enough talk, but I'm wounded.
I won't bother with the shock collar. Get on that platform,
pick up your weapon, or I'll shoot you.
You too, programmer, my name is Randal.
I think you have more important things to worry about
at the moment. Pick up your weapon.
Randal picks up the sword.
But he's gonna break.
I am starting to get bored with all of this.
You can either get on that platform and have a
chance to live, or stay off of it and simply
be dead. No more warnings.
Randal and promoter get onto the platform.
Turn on the sound, let them hear all of it.
Sound back on.
We're live with audio end visual broadcast. Angle. Randal and
promoter on the canvas, normal footage. Angle on Randall despite everything,
he wants this fight. Maybe he'll die, but it's a
chance to avenge Dana's death, Samantha's death, the death of
all these innocent people. Executioner walks to the announcer's table.
He reaches up to the control panel and hits a button.
Basketball horn sounds. The promoter moves instantly, swinging his sword
and long reaching stroke that catches Randall in the right shoulder.
Randal howls in pain. Oh, blood pours down his arm.
You like that.
Randal swings faster than we would ever expect. The point
of his sword cuts across the promoter's mask, sending it
flying in two pieces. Promoter's hand covers his bleeding face.
He pulls the hand away. It's Joseph Cameronelli.
You.
Joseph reaches into his pocket and pulls out Randal's keys,
insert keys and the silver flash drive. I told you
not to fuck around. Randall knows that as messed up
as this is, Promoter is at least a little correct.
Randall could have walked out had he not copied the information.
And what about Dana the dyke?
She wanted to sneak off and try and get another job.
That's not my problem. Randal screams, rushes in. Joseph easily parries.
The thrust cuts Randall in the leg. Randal is hurt,
bleeding bad. He's in pain.
Ah.
Joseph puts the keys back in his pocket. He is
stalking Randall. Joseph looks very confident despite his wounded arm.
What you thought I couldn't fight?
Take of like a bare asshole.
Joseph gestures to the canvas is hanging up above, pointing
at the one marked with the Roman numeral one.
Who do you think when the first bracket tournament it
was me?
Joseph is stalking back and forth. Randall keeps his sword
point up, but he's hurt pretty bad and he's getting weaker.
You fought in one of these?
How could you make other people go through it?
At first?
I wouldn't fight, so they killed myr's son, your son,
Do you think I give a shit about anyone else?
I fought and I won. I took a million.
Dollars and started IDG.
And you use that as a front for more tournaments.
It wasn't like I could just go back to our
normal life, now could I. Someone did it to me,
so I did it to someone else.
That's karma.
Joseph rushes in fast cuts Randal across the thigh. Joseph
dances away. He's enjoying this. He talks to the cameras
broadcast Angle angle on Joseph. He's disturbingly gleeful, excited to fight,
almost on the verge of insanity.
Whoa Oh, how's this for drama, folks? Did you miss
the champ?
Yeah?
What a fight?
What a finish.
Randall is weak. He staggers, barely able to raise his sword.
And now it's time to end this bullshit?
Now you die.
Programmer angle on canvas. Randall watches. He holds the sword
horizontally near his waist. Slow motion. Joseph starts to in.
Randall has a hand on the sword hilt, another near
the tip. He brings the flat of the sword down
hard on his knee. The metal breaks at the pinholes.
As Joseph rushes in, Randal throws the top part of
the sword at Joseph. The sharp flying object makes Joseph flinch.
Coming in fast, the flinch throws him off balance, makes
him stumble. Randal steps to the side as Joseph comes
in with both hands on the hilt. Randal swings his
shortened sword hard, slicing through Joseph's neck and decapitating him
normal speeds. Joseph's severed head bounces, then rolls to a
stop on top of the bottom half of his white mask.
Randal stands over Joseph's corpse. Victorious, He kneels screams at
the corpse.
My name is Random.
You ass ale.
The sound of one man clapping echoes through the warehouse.
Executioner gently claps, still holding his luger.
Nicely done, programmer, you one.
As Randall stands faces the executioner, So so now, are
you gonna kill me?
Are you still breathing? Ah? Yeah, then no, I'm not
going to kill you. People ask such stupid questions.
Randall falls onto his ass close shot. Randall cut on
the arm, the leg, the forehead. His eye is blackened.
He's covered in blood.
I am not gonna let this shit.
I'm calling the cops.
The same law enforcement officials that would watch a video
of you murdering four p people.
The words shock Randall. He never considered that, but.
It was self defense off.
When my employers are finished editing the video, the bodies
of your victims will be spread around the city. If
you talk, if you say anything, the police will see
you killing those people. You will be on death row.
Randall is screwed. Life as he knew it is over.
What a idea?
Now it would seem that the promoter position is suddenly available.
Are you seeking gainful employment?
Executioner hands Randall a card insert business card. The card
has a phone number, nothing else.
Call that if you want the position.
Executioner reaches under the wreckage of the announcer's table and
pulls out a metal briefcase. He opens it sets it
at Randall's feet.
The winner's purse, one million dollars enjoy angle on briefcase
from Randall's pov stacks of hundreds.
Randal caresses the money, leaving bloody streaks on some of it.
He wipes his hands and stuffs a stack into his pocket.
Is it okay? If I hear my car keys.
Yes, but I wouldn't recommend driving in your condition. You
need a doctor, and I do think you should avoid ambulances.
You think a cab is gonna pick me up looking
like this?
Randal gestures to himself soaked in blood. Executioner points to
the money in the suitcase.
Wave one of those stacks around. I don't think there
will be an issue.
Randal reaches into promoter's pocket. Insert keychain with flash drive.
Randall pockets the keys slowly, as if he's waiting for
executtioner to figure out he has secret information. But executioner
just stares. Someone's gonna pay?
What's that?
I'm really in pain. Executioner walks to the production room,
stops at the door.
On the back of my card is the number for
a doctor. He will take care of you, no questions asked.
Insert Randall flips the card over a handwritten address.
He takes cash.
Randall looks up at executioner.
Oh what about the actor's son? Are you gonna kill him?
Why is everyone so obsessed with death around here? The
actor did what we asked. His boy will not be touched.
But what if he doesn't have a mother?
I will see to the boy's welfare. You should worry
about bleeding to death.
Farewell, Randall executioner walks into the production room and he
is gone. Randal hears a moan from the broadcast table.
He closes the briefcase, runs to the table. Old lady
is trying to sit up. Randall has seen her in action. No,
she's dangerous. Where's the douche bag that shot me?
He's gone.
We get to live.
Well, you just gonna stand there pulling your putt?
Are you gonna take me to a goddamn hospital?
The old lady's dress is covered in blood. Randal moves
to help her, then sees something. Backs away quickly.
What's your problem?
Put down the chicken scissors?
Old lady glares, then smiles. She pulls her hand out
from behind her back. She's holding the same scissors she
had from her first fight. She slides them inside her collar,
grunts as she cuts the collar free. She tosses the
scissors at Randall's feet. He careful. He starts cutting his
own collar. Good thing for you.
The fucker left that championship was minus skinny. Fuck you
got lucky.
Randall's collar falls free. He tosses the shears away. Should
he help her? He gets under her shoulder and helps
her to her feet. Credits roll over. Together, Randal an
old lady walk to the production room. We see the
equipment used by promoter and the others. Randal finds another door.
They find stairs, climb a flight. We start to hear
traffic sounds filtering in. They climb a second flight, passed
by the server room door. Traffic gets louder as they
go up. Cut to interior lobby Day. Randal and old
lady walk through lobby toward interior garage door. Randal's hands
on the garage door controller. Cut to exterior garage door.
Day.
Door slowly rolls up. Dramatic reveal of bloody Randall and
old lady. They step out into bright sunlight. Garage door
stays open. They blink, adjusting their eyes. People stop and stare.
Traffic goes by. Randal raises a hand for a cab.
Two cabs ignore him. He pulls the stack of hundreds
out of his pocket, waves it. Cab screeches to a halt.
Randal helps the old lady in, hands the driver three
one hundred dollar bills. The cab drives off camera stays
fixed on garage door throughout. Randal limps back into the garage,
disappearing from sight. Beat. Randall's card drives out of the garage,
drives down the street. Garage door starts to slowly close,
it stops, it goes back up beat. Engineer drives out.
He stops, shades his eyes to look after Randall's direction.
Engineer nods, smiles, then drives the other way. Garage door
slowly closes, fade to black shot.
Everybody would like to you, Stiles at the en