Post by The Commissioner on Jul 10, 2020 2:35:08 GMT -5
9:35 PM
Calgary, Alberta
Bret Hart’s office within the Alberta Wrestling Federation offices was no doubt expansive, but his furnishings were humble, as might be expected from the Hitman. Some dark sort of wood - perhaps teak - has been chosen for the desk, bookcase, and circular, glass-plated coffee table parallel to and in between his set of double leather couches. A massive window to downtown takes the place of what would otherwise be a wall, where the desk sits parallel, a cart of liquors pressed against the glass just behind where the Best There Was, The Best There Is, and The Best There Ever Will Be sits with paperwork.
Bruce Hart
(from the other room, far and down the hall)
Bret you gotta see this shit!
Bret signs Robbie McKay’s contract after a deep breath. Footsteps can be heard down the marble floor outside the office, the only sound aside from the paper ruffling and pen scratching.
Bruce Hart
BRET!
A smacking hand forces the door fully ajar, and in walks Bruce Hart with his 1983 mullet, high-rising jeans out of 1993 tucked into cowboy boots, and orange polo.
Bruce Hart
Bret, I’m telling ya, you have GOT to see this shit.
The younger brother finally offers a glance up to his elder, notices the face of worry, and drops his pen and paper to follow Bruce out of the office. Bret’s sneakers are much quieter on the marble of the hallway, but down the long way they go until finally they reach Bruce’s.
A much smaller place of business than Bret’s, it was a windowless office no bigger than a double janitor’s closet, but Bruce had made sure to fill it well, laden with images of Bruce, Owen, Stu, and/or the three of them together where there wasn’t memorabilia from his old failed attempt at a wrestling federation many moons ago.
On his flat screen that took up most of the wall left available just on the side of the door is a live news report, a helicopter’s footage on display. A white Ford Bronco can be seen speeding down a freeway, with a black Ford pickup truck tailing behind it fast.
Headline:
BREAKING: WRESTLING SUPERSTARS IN A HIGH SPEED CHASE
Bret’s eyes widen.
News Reporter
... down Highway 16 in Lloydminster. Authorities have warned the public that one is confirmed to be armed and dangerous! We await more details, but it has been reported that there are decals on the truck known to be synonymous with ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin…
Bret Hart
Jesus fucking Christ!
---
9:15 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
Stevie Ray
This muthafucka gone learn today.
The snap of his knuckles cupped by his fingerless-gloved-fist before from his combat pants buttoned pocket does he pull another battle mitt for his hand. Side-by-side does he walk with his brother in matching gear down a poorly paved road down a house with battered and beat up houses all along what should be sidewalks, but instead are just the lawn of a house or nothing more. A decrepit road indeed, but Booker’s face is stern and focused.
The gravel kicks and crunches under their high-top combat boots.
6:45 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
Donning his new ’All About Austin’ official AWF t-shirt and over-the-knee jorts, ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin exits a corner liquor store with a 24-case of Broken Skull IPA in hand. Parked in the parking spot away from all the other cars is his black Ford pick up, decaled in tribute to himself on both the hood and the tailgate. The case of beer is set comfortably on the floor of the backseat before Austin takes to the driver’s seat and turns his ignition.
Radio
(Pat Benatar)
’We’re running with the shadows of the night!
So baby, take my hand, it’ll be al--
Stone Cold
Oh hell yeah! ‘THEY’LL COME TRUE IN THE ENNNNNNNNNNNND!’
As the first drum notes land in the song and further, Austin pantomimes them each perfectly, basking in the power of Pat Benatar.
Stone Cold
’RANSOM MY HEART BUT BABY DON’T LOOK BACK ‘CAUSE WE GOT NOBODY ELSE! WE’RE RUNNIN’ WITH THE SHADOWS OF THE NIGHT! …’
Austin finishes the hook while speeding out of the parking lot.
9:20 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
Still walking down the way, now deep into a gridded neighborhood (the housing a bit more desirable but just barely), Booker offers a signalling left-handed slap to the bullet-vested chest of his older brother. An immediate pivot right by both men, Booker in front, through the yard of a house and over the low, rickety chain-link fence that divides it from the yard behind it. Stevie Ray follows behind closely, their movements much quieter than might be expected for men of their frame.
7:03 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
The Ford pickup pulls up on the sidewalk across the street next to a small white single-story bungalow, a white Ford Bronco parked in the driveway. As he puts it into park, his left hand pantomimes a drumstick landing on the steering wheel before the other one joins in, Big Log by Robert Plant on its long fade out.
Stone Cold
’MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH LUUUUUUVE! MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH LUUUUVE! IS IN LEEEEEEEEEEAGUE WITH THE FREEWAY!’ OH YEAH!
Once it’s faded, Stone Cold shuts the engine, jumps out the car nearly destroying his door in the process, and grabs the case from the back. No checking for any passing cars as he Austin-strides toward the bungalow’s front door, over the lawn with minimal regard. An aggressive four-knuckled knock is met by the quick opening of the door.
Wide-eyed, does Chris DeAngelo open the door, staring down at his fellow bald brother. Despite being the obviously bigger man, DeAngelo seems immediately nervous. A contorted smile.
Chris DeAngelo
Oh Steve!
A burning smell creeps into Austin’s nostrils as he pushes right past the man into his own abode. Inside is a large single room by all technicality, only a pillar between the poorly kept kitchen and comfortable living parlor space.
Stone Cold
Shit, son, whatchu smoking that bullshit again?
Austin tosses his key onto and looks at the island sitting in the kitchen, thinking to place down the case -- till he sees the small glass pipe with the well charred round end amongst the junk. A grimace before heading straight for the couch.
Chris DeAngelo
... I need this job.
Stone Cold
Hell, I don’t give a damn. Ain’t my body, I’m not the dumbass.
Austin drops the case on the coffee table between the couch and the flatscreen, opening it quickly. DeAngelo shuts the door, scratching his head as he makes it halfway through the kitchen.
Stone Cold
(reaching in for a brew)
Besides...
(popping the top)
I can’t fire you no more.
DeAngelo keeps eyeballing the crack pipe, but makes sure to keep most of his attention on the Texas Rattlesnake. Stone Cold guzzles down the entire tallboy.
Stone Cold
(a refreshed ‘aaaaah’ and a chuckle)
For now.
The empty can crushed and dropped on the wooden floor while reaching in for another.
9:22 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
Booker and Stevie land in the backyard of a small white house. Without having to utter a word, they they split to either side of the residence.
9:24 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
Inside of the bungalow, DeAngelo and Austin have taken to either side of the couch, at least twenty crushed cans strewn about the floor of the living room. The only light in the premises comes from the television screen and the light over the sink in the kitchen. Steve Austin has fallen asleep with a half-drank can of the IPA in his grasp, in his lap.
Television
(Michael Madsen)
Are you gonna bark all day, little doggie? Or are you gonna bite?
Being presented with a fresh opportunity, DeAngelo rises from the couch and makes a tip-toed walk over to the kitchen. Fast, he grabs the pipe before pulling out a baggy full of crack rocks and a lighter. Quickly, he breaks up a few of the pieces
HIS FRONT DOOR IS KICKED IN!
THEN THE BACK! ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE LIVING ROOM!
The sounds startles Austin awake, but he’s too late to do anything as a figure pulls the couch from underneath and over him!
DeAngelo quickly scurries back to grab the baseball bat he keeps next to his refrigerator--
But a quick uppercut from another shadowed figure stumbles him back before he can make any real move with it! Another few uppercuts stagger DeAngelo enough for a left kick to the forearm to knock the baseball bat free! Chris’ skull is bounced off the marble of his island, then the back of it pulled to smack against the wood of his bottom cabinets!
The couch is pulled off of Austin by the same man who tossed it on him before he’s brought to his feet then set through the television! Snap, crackle, and pop from the broken piece of tech but those massive hands are back around Austin’s head and throwing him into the pillar between kitchen and parlor!
The figures switch targets, the uppercuts keeping Austin groggy on his feet before that figure decides introduce the Texan’s head with the pillar, then the marble island, before pulling him through and out of the front door!
Austin goes flying onto the same lawn he disrespected earlier, catching himself midroll on all fours - before a combat boot punts him in the side of the head! Blood spittles from the gums of where two teeth were just five minutes before, and he lays on his back stunned.
His vision is blurry and unclear as the figure steps in view, steps back -- then throws another kick to the side, causing a squeal of pain. His vision is knocked back perfect when the figure flies in with a right hand --
Booker?!
Then the left knocks it back dizzy. Another. And another.
It keeps going.
Inside of the house, DeAngelo gets thrown across the room - from the kitchen to the parlor, rolling from the impact toward the back door. He strains to find his breath but does his best to find himself, the figure stomping behind him. Lucky this is his own place, so he knows where the marble vase his mother passed down was --
AND BAITS AND SWITCHES THE FIGURE! THE VASE SMACKS AGAINST THE BIG MAN’S HEAD AND HE STUMBLES BACK!
DeAngelo is on his feet fast, looking to the left at the backdoor and window near where the couch and television once sat peacefully. With a hand on the head and the other on the belt, DeAngelo sends the figure flying out of the window and to the backyard!
That taken care of, he turns around, groggily stumbling through the wreckage to the kitchen where his bat fell. With it in his grasp, he’s out through the front door where he sees Booker mounting Austin and going off with unguarded blows. A grip of both hands helps him judge the shot perfectly: clear across the back of Booker’s head the bat goes!
Booker falls off Austin’s body and is stunned on the ground, over top Austin. DeAngelo has to push Booker off before trying to wake up the busted jawed-Austin, pulling at his left hand to stand him out. Somehow, Austin isn’t totally out but dazed to the max. DeAngelo looks up to see Stevie Ray stumbling from around the back, arms and face cut up but still furious, with enough in the tank with the help of the side of the building to keep himself up.
Chris DeAngelo
Ah Steve, what the fuuuuuuuuck!
Neighbors watch on from windows and screen doors as DeAngelo forces the man’s arm over his head, before reaching in his pockets for his car keys. The Bronco beeps when the fob is pressed, Austin’s feet dragging across the grass and driveway until Chris can push him into the passenger seat. Stevie checks on his brother, who is beginning to rise on his own, as he notices Chris running around to the other side of his car.
Seeing his brother all right but not wanting the opportunity lost, Stevie finds an adrenaline rush to turn back and run into the house, flick on the light switch and take a fast look around. He sees a set of keys on the table that could only be Austin’s and picks them up.
The Bronco is speeding in reverse out of the driveway as Stevie rushes past Booker, grabbing hold of his arm in the process. T shakes back to the mission quickly, and follows his brother’s lead toward the Ford pickup.
9:31 PM
Highway 16, Lloydminster, Saskatchewan
Chris DeAngelo
Shit shit shit shit shit!
Both hands gripped on the steering wheel in panic, DeAngelo darts between Austin slowly coming to sat in the passenger seat, the road in front of him, and the rearview mirror where the Ford pickup is close behind. The baseball has been dropped against Austin’s thigh, between his legs in the seat.
Inside the pickup, Stevie Ray has taken the wheel, Booker pulling from his pants’ buttoned pocket a small vial of Clyde’s Concoction, unscrewing the cap, and downing it.
Stevie Ray
Man fuck this.
Reaching in his own buttoned pocket after rolling the window down, Stevie Ray removes something with arguably just as much power as a swig of the concoction: a Browning Hi-Power pistol. Another wordless communication, Booker takes the wheel to keep steady as his brother pulls half of his body out of window and pops off two shots. The first lands square in the back window, shattering it, the other taking out a tail-light.
The blasts and all other noise rise Austin quickly from the last bits of his days.
Stone Cold
AW FUCK!
Spit of the blood in his mouth onto the ground. Coming back to the realization himself, his fists clench and he punches down on the side of the door.
Stone Cold
Booker. That sonuvabitch.
The next shot clips the back tire. The car hits a new low and DeAngelo realizes immediately how fucked his lease is.
9:37 PM
Calgary, Alberta
Bret has returned to the larger office, where the news report has been put on Bret’s 65” curved TV, Bruce sat on the leather seat having a watch. Bret himself paces back and forth behind his desk, repeatedly making calls that go right to voicemail.
After the fifth attempt, he throws the phone onto his desk, sighs a deep sigh, and runs his hand through his hair. A shake of the head as he places exasperated hands on his hips.
9:35 PM
Highway 16, Lloydminster, Saskatchewan
DeAngelo turns into the nearest store plaza, where there sits a Wendy’s and Super Walmart -- but not before Stevie gets one last shot off, clipping the other back tire. Losing control as he tries to make the turn, the Bronco begins skidding back and forth while the man in the driver’s seat attempts to regain control of the car. It’s no use, and he eventually drives full speed into the concrete cylinder holding up a steel light pole in the middle of the parking lot.
Stevie Ray’s drive in is cautious as they watch the accident unfold, pulling the car over some forty feet away.
Somehow, Austin is able to get his door open as DeAngelo’s head lay bleeding on the steering wheel airbag. Pushing his own airbag from the way, he takes hold of the baseball as he kicks the door open and pulls himself from the confines of the vehicle. Immediately, he stumbles as fast as he can manage toward the front door of the Walmart as people look on in bewilderment.
Harlem Heat jump out of the truck.
Stevie Ray
Go handle that fool!
Booker jogs toward the doors as Stevie Ray makes his way toward the Bronco.
Stevie Ray
I’ll show you some OJ Simpson shit, muthafucka.
The driver seat is forced upon by the older Huffman, who pulls out the unconscious Chris DeAngelo out of his circumstance only to throw his head throw the back window of the car!
Inside the Walmart, Booker T is looking aisle by aisle for Austin. The people in the Walmart look at the man suspicious of everything, but it’s not of his concern at all. He doesn’t find Austin in the grocery section (strange), nor the clothing section, and so to the technology section.
Turning the bend to the cameras he --
GETS HIT IN THE GUT WITH A BASEBALL BAT!
Bloody mouthed and glazed over, Austin swings the baseball bat into Booker’s jaw, whose body flies upward from the force, onto and over the counter of cameras and to the other side!
Austin, in survival mode at this point, goes around the aisle to meet on Booker’s side -- where there’s a large check-out kiosk surrounded by a glass display. The time is enough for Booker to bait Austin into the gut kick from the ground as Steve lifts up for another bat swing. Booker’s halfway to his feet when he gets another swing, this one across the back. A side swing is simply eaten by Booker’s forearm when he pushes it away, before he connects with a countering left punch!
Booker bounces Stone Cold’s head off the solid part of the kiosk, before pulling him and throwing him to the wide walkway between sections. On his back, Austin slides nearly to the towels and soaps section, but rolls to a shaky stance just in time to get met with a right hand from Booker. Austin swings one back that rocks Booker, but another left knocks Austin to the ground.
Austin rolls back and to his feet again, now just trying to get away, but Booker is on him. Using a bait and switch of his own, he lets Booker get close so he can punch him in the gut, kick him in the same place, then force his head against the large column helping to hold up the massive warehouse.
Soon enough, they’re just in a back and forth fist fight, pushing them back through the section that clearly says ‘AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY’.
In the loading dock area, Booker gets three quick rights in before he kicks Austin in his historically bad knee. Austin lets out a holler, and suddenly sprints out like a threatened rattlesnake with a vicious running lariat that drops the Bookerman. A stiff boot over the head, sandwiching against the concrete floor, keeps Booker down enough for Austin to drop to one knee and catch his breath.
Still, this man on something Austin’s not been confronted with before, Booker is stirring quickly, pulling to his side to try and push himself up. Austin notices, kicking Booker in the back, continuing to land those boots to the back or gut as Booker rolls toward the end of the dock, where the semis would back into.
There’s a small steel railing along it, leaving just enough room for the standard size of a trailer. Booker finds himself backed here, in the perfect place for Austin to grab hold and to begin stomping a proper mudhole. He does, eventually putting his last stomp to the face, then grinding the head against the pavement.
Gassed, Austin turns and backs away to catch another moment.
The sound of police sirens closing in with each second.
But Austin doesn’t notice in time, Booker pulling up with the railing.
Austin turns to continue his assault.
LEG LARIAT!
Booker’s right back on him, forcing him to his feet and grabbing him by the neck and belt
THROWING HIM OFF THE DOCK!
But Austin catches himself just before!
GOOOOOORE!
BOOKER CHARGES WITH THE GORE AND LIFTS THE BOTH OF THEM UP AND OFF THE DOCK, TO THE CONCRETE BELOW!
Austin lands on his back, Booker awkwardly himself.
The numerous police cars begin to surround the men as they lay there, finally unmoving.
END
Calgary, Alberta
Bret Hart’s office within the Alberta Wrestling Federation offices was no doubt expansive, but his furnishings were humble, as might be expected from the Hitman. Some dark sort of wood - perhaps teak - has been chosen for the desk, bookcase, and circular, glass-plated coffee table parallel to and in between his set of double leather couches. A massive window to downtown takes the place of what would otherwise be a wall, where the desk sits parallel, a cart of liquors pressed against the glass just behind where the Best There Was, The Best There Is, and The Best There Ever Will Be sits with paperwork.
Bruce Hart
(from the other room, far and down the hall)
Bret you gotta see this shit!
Bret signs Robbie McKay’s contract after a deep breath. Footsteps can be heard down the marble floor outside the office, the only sound aside from the paper ruffling and pen scratching.
Bruce Hart
BRET!
A smacking hand forces the door fully ajar, and in walks Bruce Hart with his 1983 mullet, high-rising jeans out of 1993 tucked into cowboy boots, and orange polo.
Bruce Hart
Bret, I’m telling ya, you have GOT to see this shit.
The younger brother finally offers a glance up to his elder, notices the face of worry, and drops his pen and paper to follow Bruce out of the office. Bret’s sneakers are much quieter on the marble of the hallway, but down the long way they go until finally they reach Bruce’s.
A much smaller place of business than Bret’s, it was a windowless office no bigger than a double janitor’s closet, but Bruce had made sure to fill it well, laden with images of Bruce, Owen, Stu, and/or the three of them together where there wasn’t memorabilia from his old failed attempt at a wrestling federation many moons ago.
On his flat screen that took up most of the wall left available just on the side of the door is a live news report, a helicopter’s footage on display. A white Ford Bronco can be seen speeding down a freeway, with a black Ford pickup truck tailing behind it fast.
Headline:
BREAKING: WRESTLING SUPERSTARS IN A HIGH SPEED CHASE
Bret’s eyes widen.
News Reporter
... down Highway 16 in Lloydminster. Authorities have warned the public that one is confirmed to be armed and dangerous! We await more details, but it has been reported that there are decals on the truck known to be synonymous with ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin…
Bret Hart
Jesus fucking Christ!
---
9:15 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
Stevie Ray
This muthafucka gone learn today.
The snap of his knuckles cupped by his fingerless-gloved-fist before from his combat pants buttoned pocket does he pull another battle mitt for his hand. Side-by-side does he walk with his brother in matching gear down a poorly paved road down a house with battered and beat up houses all along what should be sidewalks, but instead are just the lawn of a house or nothing more. A decrepit road indeed, but Booker’s face is stern and focused.
The gravel kicks and crunches under their high-top combat boots.
6:45 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
Donning his new ’All About Austin’ official AWF t-shirt and over-the-knee jorts, ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin exits a corner liquor store with a 24-case of Broken Skull IPA in hand. Parked in the parking spot away from all the other cars is his black Ford pick up, decaled in tribute to himself on both the hood and the tailgate. The case of beer is set comfortably on the floor of the backseat before Austin takes to the driver’s seat and turns his ignition.
Radio
(Pat Benatar)
’We’re running with the shadows of the night!
So baby, take my hand, it’ll be al--
Stone Cold
Oh hell yeah! ‘THEY’LL COME TRUE IN THE ENNNNNNNNNNNND!’
As the first drum notes land in the song and further, Austin pantomimes them each perfectly, basking in the power of Pat Benatar.
Stone Cold
’RANSOM MY HEART BUT BABY DON’T LOOK BACK ‘CAUSE WE GOT NOBODY ELSE! WE’RE RUNNIN’ WITH THE SHADOWS OF THE NIGHT! …’
Austin finishes the hook while speeding out of the parking lot.
9:20 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
Still walking down the way, now deep into a gridded neighborhood (the housing a bit more desirable but just barely), Booker offers a signalling left-handed slap to the bullet-vested chest of his older brother. An immediate pivot right by both men, Booker in front, through the yard of a house and over the low, rickety chain-link fence that divides it from the yard behind it. Stevie Ray follows behind closely, their movements much quieter than might be expected for men of their frame.
7:03 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
The Ford pickup pulls up on the sidewalk across the street next to a small white single-story bungalow, a white Ford Bronco parked in the driveway. As he puts it into park, his left hand pantomimes a drumstick landing on the steering wheel before the other one joins in, Big Log by Robert Plant on its long fade out.
Stone Cold
’MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH LUUUUUUVE! MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH LUUUUVE! IS IN LEEEEEEEEEEAGUE WITH THE FREEWAY!’ OH YEAH!
Once it’s faded, Stone Cold shuts the engine, jumps out the car nearly destroying his door in the process, and grabs the case from the back. No checking for any passing cars as he Austin-strides toward the bungalow’s front door, over the lawn with minimal regard. An aggressive four-knuckled knock is met by the quick opening of the door.
Wide-eyed, does Chris DeAngelo open the door, staring down at his fellow bald brother. Despite being the obviously bigger man, DeAngelo seems immediately nervous. A contorted smile.
Chris DeAngelo
Oh Steve!
A burning smell creeps into Austin’s nostrils as he pushes right past the man into his own abode. Inside is a large single room by all technicality, only a pillar between the poorly kept kitchen and comfortable living parlor space.
Stone Cold
Shit, son, whatchu smoking that bullshit again?
Austin tosses his key onto and looks at the island sitting in the kitchen, thinking to place down the case -- till he sees the small glass pipe with the well charred round end amongst the junk. A grimace before heading straight for the couch.
Chris DeAngelo
... I need this job.
Stone Cold
Hell, I don’t give a damn. Ain’t my body, I’m not the dumbass.
Austin drops the case on the coffee table between the couch and the flatscreen, opening it quickly. DeAngelo shuts the door, scratching his head as he makes it halfway through the kitchen.
Stone Cold
(reaching in for a brew)
Besides...
(popping the top)
I can’t fire you no more.
DeAngelo keeps eyeballing the crack pipe, but makes sure to keep most of his attention on the Texas Rattlesnake. Stone Cold guzzles down the entire tallboy.
Stone Cold
(a refreshed ‘aaaaah’ and a chuckle)
For now.
The empty can crushed and dropped on the wooden floor while reaching in for another.
9:22 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
Booker and Stevie land in the backyard of a small white house. Without having to utter a word, they they split to either side of the residence.
9:24 PM
Lloydminster, Alberta
Inside of the bungalow, DeAngelo and Austin have taken to either side of the couch, at least twenty crushed cans strewn about the floor of the living room. The only light in the premises comes from the television screen and the light over the sink in the kitchen. Steve Austin has fallen asleep with a half-drank can of the IPA in his grasp, in his lap.
Television
(Michael Madsen)
Are you gonna bark all day, little doggie? Or are you gonna bite?
Being presented with a fresh opportunity, DeAngelo rises from the couch and makes a tip-toed walk over to the kitchen. Fast, he grabs the pipe before pulling out a baggy full of crack rocks and a lighter. Quickly, he breaks up a few of the pieces
HIS FRONT DOOR IS KICKED IN!
THEN THE BACK! ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE LIVING ROOM!
The sounds startles Austin awake, but he’s too late to do anything as a figure pulls the couch from underneath and over him!
DeAngelo quickly scurries back to grab the baseball bat he keeps next to his refrigerator--
But a quick uppercut from another shadowed figure stumbles him back before he can make any real move with it! Another few uppercuts stagger DeAngelo enough for a left kick to the forearm to knock the baseball bat free! Chris’ skull is bounced off the marble of his island, then the back of it pulled to smack against the wood of his bottom cabinets!
The couch is pulled off of Austin by the same man who tossed it on him before he’s brought to his feet then set through the television! Snap, crackle, and pop from the broken piece of tech but those massive hands are back around Austin’s head and throwing him into the pillar between kitchen and parlor!
The figures switch targets, the uppercuts keeping Austin groggy on his feet before that figure decides introduce the Texan’s head with the pillar, then the marble island, before pulling him through and out of the front door!
Austin goes flying onto the same lawn he disrespected earlier, catching himself midroll on all fours - before a combat boot punts him in the side of the head! Blood spittles from the gums of where two teeth were just five minutes before, and he lays on his back stunned.
His vision is blurry and unclear as the figure steps in view, steps back -- then throws another kick to the side, causing a squeal of pain. His vision is knocked back perfect when the figure flies in with a right hand --
Booker?!
Then the left knocks it back dizzy. Another. And another.
It keeps going.
Inside of the house, DeAngelo gets thrown across the room - from the kitchen to the parlor, rolling from the impact toward the back door. He strains to find his breath but does his best to find himself, the figure stomping behind him. Lucky this is his own place, so he knows where the marble vase his mother passed down was --
AND BAITS AND SWITCHES THE FIGURE! THE VASE SMACKS AGAINST THE BIG MAN’S HEAD AND HE STUMBLES BACK!
DeAngelo is on his feet fast, looking to the left at the backdoor and window near where the couch and television once sat peacefully. With a hand on the head and the other on the belt, DeAngelo sends the figure flying out of the window and to the backyard!
That taken care of, he turns around, groggily stumbling through the wreckage to the kitchen where his bat fell. With it in his grasp, he’s out through the front door where he sees Booker mounting Austin and going off with unguarded blows. A grip of both hands helps him judge the shot perfectly: clear across the back of Booker’s head the bat goes!
Booker falls off Austin’s body and is stunned on the ground, over top Austin. DeAngelo has to push Booker off before trying to wake up the busted jawed-Austin, pulling at his left hand to stand him out. Somehow, Austin isn’t totally out but dazed to the max. DeAngelo looks up to see Stevie Ray stumbling from around the back, arms and face cut up but still furious, with enough in the tank with the help of the side of the building to keep himself up.
Chris DeAngelo
Ah Steve, what the fuuuuuuuuck!
Neighbors watch on from windows and screen doors as DeAngelo forces the man’s arm over his head, before reaching in his pockets for his car keys. The Bronco beeps when the fob is pressed, Austin’s feet dragging across the grass and driveway until Chris can push him into the passenger seat. Stevie checks on his brother, who is beginning to rise on his own, as he notices Chris running around to the other side of his car.
Seeing his brother all right but not wanting the opportunity lost, Stevie finds an adrenaline rush to turn back and run into the house, flick on the light switch and take a fast look around. He sees a set of keys on the table that could only be Austin’s and picks them up.
The Bronco is speeding in reverse out of the driveway as Stevie rushes past Booker, grabbing hold of his arm in the process. T shakes back to the mission quickly, and follows his brother’s lead toward the Ford pickup.
9:31 PM
Highway 16, Lloydminster, Saskatchewan
Chris DeAngelo
Shit shit shit shit shit!
Both hands gripped on the steering wheel in panic, DeAngelo darts between Austin slowly coming to sat in the passenger seat, the road in front of him, and the rearview mirror where the Ford pickup is close behind. The baseball has been dropped against Austin’s thigh, between his legs in the seat.
Inside the pickup, Stevie Ray has taken the wheel, Booker pulling from his pants’ buttoned pocket a small vial of Clyde’s Concoction, unscrewing the cap, and downing it.
Stevie Ray
Man fuck this.
Reaching in his own buttoned pocket after rolling the window down, Stevie Ray removes something with arguably just as much power as a swig of the concoction: a Browning Hi-Power pistol. Another wordless communication, Booker takes the wheel to keep steady as his brother pulls half of his body out of window and pops off two shots. The first lands square in the back window, shattering it, the other taking out a tail-light.
The blasts and all other noise rise Austin quickly from the last bits of his days.
Stone Cold
AW FUCK!
Spit of the blood in his mouth onto the ground. Coming back to the realization himself, his fists clench and he punches down on the side of the door.
Stone Cold
Booker. That sonuvabitch.
The next shot clips the back tire. The car hits a new low and DeAngelo realizes immediately how fucked his lease is.
9:37 PM
Calgary, Alberta
Bret has returned to the larger office, where the news report has been put on Bret’s 65” curved TV, Bruce sat on the leather seat having a watch. Bret himself paces back and forth behind his desk, repeatedly making calls that go right to voicemail.
After the fifth attempt, he throws the phone onto his desk, sighs a deep sigh, and runs his hand through his hair. A shake of the head as he places exasperated hands on his hips.
9:35 PM
Highway 16, Lloydminster, Saskatchewan
DeAngelo turns into the nearest store plaza, where there sits a Wendy’s and Super Walmart -- but not before Stevie gets one last shot off, clipping the other back tire. Losing control as he tries to make the turn, the Bronco begins skidding back and forth while the man in the driver’s seat attempts to regain control of the car. It’s no use, and he eventually drives full speed into the concrete cylinder holding up a steel light pole in the middle of the parking lot.
Stevie Ray’s drive in is cautious as they watch the accident unfold, pulling the car over some forty feet away.
Somehow, Austin is able to get his door open as DeAngelo’s head lay bleeding on the steering wheel airbag. Pushing his own airbag from the way, he takes hold of the baseball as he kicks the door open and pulls himself from the confines of the vehicle. Immediately, he stumbles as fast as he can manage toward the front door of the Walmart as people look on in bewilderment.
Harlem Heat jump out of the truck.
Stevie Ray
Go handle that fool!
Booker jogs toward the doors as Stevie Ray makes his way toward the Bronco.
Stevie Ray
I’ll show you some OJ Simpson shit, muthafucka.
The driver seat is forced upon by the older Huffman, who pulls out the unconscious Chris DeAngelo out of his circumstance only to throw his head throw the back window of the car!
Inside the Walmart, Booker T is looking aisle by aisle for Austin. The people in the Walmart look at the man suspicious of everything, but it’s not of his concern at all. He doesn’t find Austin in the grocery section (strange), nor the clothing section, and so to the technology section.
Turning the bend to the cameras he --
GETS HIT IN THE GUT WITH A BASEBALL BAT!
Bloody mouthed and glazed over, Austin swings the baseball bat into Booker’s jaw, whose body flies upward from the force, onto and over the counter of cameras and to the other side!
Austin, in survival mode at this point, goes around the aisle to meet on Booker’s side -- where there’s a large check-out kiosk surrounded by a glass display. The time is enough for Booker to bait Austin into the gut kick from the ground as Steve lifts up for another bat swing. Booker’s halfway to his feet when he gets another swing, this one across the back. A side swing is simply eaten by Booker’s forearm when he pushes it away, before he connects with a countering left punch!
Booker bounces Stone Cold’s head off the solid part of the kiosk, before pulling him and throwing him to the wide walkway between sections. On his back, Austin slides nearly to the towels and soaps section, but rolls to a shaky stance just in time to get met with a right hand from Booker. Austin swings one back that rocks Booker, but another left knocks Austin to the ground.
Austin rolls back and to his feet again, now just trying to get away, but Booker is on him. Using a bait and switch of his own, he lets Booker get close so he can punch him in the gut, kick him in the same place, then force his head against the large column helping to hold up the massive warehouse.
Soon enough, they’re just in a back and forth fist fight, pushing them back through the section that clearly says ‘AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY’.
In the loading dock area, Booker gets three quick rights in before he kicks Austin in his historically bad knee. Austin lets out a holler, and suddenly sprints out like a threatened rattlesnake with a vicious running lariat that drops the Bookerman. A stiff boot over the head, sandwiching against the concrete floor, keeps Booker down enough for Austin to drop to one knee and catch his breath.
Still, this man on something Austin’s not been confronted with before, Booker is stirring quickly, pulling to his side to try and push himself up. Austin notices, kicking Booker in the back, continuing to land those boots to the back or gut as Booker rolls toward the end of the dock, where the semis would back into.
There’s a small steel railing along it, leaving just enough room for the standard size of a trailer. Booker finds himself backed here, in the perfect place for Austin to grab hold and to begin stomping a proper mudhole. He does, eventually putting his last stomp to the face, then grinding the head against the pavement.
Gassed, Austin turns and backs away to catch another moment.
The sound of police sirens closing in with each second.
But Austin doesn’t notice in time, Booker pulling up with the railing.
Austin turns to continue his assault.
LEG LARIAT!
Booker’s right back on him, forcing him to his feet and grabbing him by the neck and belt
THROWING HIM OFF THE DOCK!
But Austin catches himself just before!
GOOOOOORE!
BOOKER CHARGES WITH THE GORE AND LIFTS THE BOTH OF THEM UP AND OFF THE DOCK, TO THE CONCRETE BELOW!
Austin lands on his back, Booker awkwardly himself.
The numerous police cars begin to surround the men as they lay there, finally unmoving.
END