Post by Steve Orbit on Jan 26, 2013 17:39:24 GMT -5
[Scene opens inside an office. We're inside Golden Spa, one of the two massage parlors owned by Golden Joey. The office is small, but nicely furnished. Golden Joey sits behind a mahogany desk, leaning back in his wheelchair with his hands behind his head. He's wearing a burgundy Nike track suit. "The Mack" Steve Orbit sits in a leather recliner, situated in the corner diagonally across from the desk. Orbit is dressed in a white dress shirt with the sleeves partially rolled up, and the top buttons undone, exposing his gold chains. Khaki pants and 'gator shoes complete the outfit. Orbit is taking a file to his nails.]
Steve Orbit: Yeah man, I just had to get away from that bitch for a few days, homie. I think I fucked up when I bought that house.
[Joey starts laughing.]
Golden Joey: You think? Dogg-- I told you that bitch was trouble from day mother fuckin' one. [laughs] And you go half on a house with her like a fuckin' square. What's next, huh? Little Steve Juniors runnin' around?
Steve Orbit: Man, fuck you. She got that killer pussy, I mean-- her pussy is on some space age shit, man, she takin' me to other planets and mother fuckin' galaxies, I think I seen God a couple times up in that pussy. You think her movies are nasty? Havana don't even do half, not even one PERCENT of what she's capable of in her God damn movies--
[Joey cuts him off.]
Golden Joey: Please. I don't know what kinda pimp I'm lookin' at right now. I ain't never heard of no pimp gettin' wrapped around no pussy before, you supposed to be about gettin' that mother fuckin' money-- not splittin' a house with some porno bitch. You done lost your damn mind, Steve.
Steve Orbit: Joey, I can kick her ass to the curb any time I feel like it. She knows that and I know that. Shit, that's what's up.
[Tina, the receptionist, pops her head in the door.]
Tina: Steve, your girlfriend is here.
[Orbit sits up in the recliner.]
Steve Orbit: Yo, hold up-- first of all, she ain't my girl--
[Tina is brushed aside by Havana Ginger. She's wearing a short, tight dress, off-white in color, with matching heels. She's got several large shopping bags in her arms.]
Havana Ginger: Hey baby, what the fuck y'all doin'?
[Orbit stands up, trying to shake the shocked look off of his face, and turn it into one of pleasant surprise.]
Steve Orbit: Oh, uh-- hey, girl! We was just talkin' about you-- what you doin' out here, I thought you had that thing in Boston?
[She drops her bags in Steve's lap.]
Havana Ginger: Surprise, surprise. It got cancelled and I got a photo shoot in San Fransisco instead-- I figured I'd come stay with you out here.
[Joey puts his hands over his mouth, hiding his laugh.]
Steve Orbit: Oh, that's... yeah, that's great, Havana. Cool. Hey, can you just give us a minute? We were kinda talkin' about business--
[Havana sits in a chair next to Orbit.]
Havana Ginger: It's fine, I'll wait for you, boo.
Steve Orbit: That's not what I...
[Havana gets that look. That woman look.]
Havana Ginger: Not what you what, Steve?
Steve Orbit: Forget it, we almost done anyway. So uh, Joey, where were we?
Golden Joey: You was about to tell me about your Tag Team title rematch.
Steve Orbit: Oh yeah, that. Well, shit... you know I'm ready to go, but Waylon... that mother fucker is havin' some emotional issues or somethin'. I dunno where his head is at, he's all depressed--
Golden Joey: So cheer his ass up. Bring him out here, take him to a strip club, chill him out for a few days. That's all you gotta do, dogg.
Steve Orbit: You think so?
Golden Joey: Hell yeah. Get him away from it all and show him a good time, Oakland style. Take him to one of them trashy downtown clubs, maybe you can find a diamond in the rough and pull her for Club Violet.
Steve Orbit: Aight, no doubt. I'ma call his ass right now.
[Orbit takes out his cellphone and makes a call.]
Steve Orbit: [on the phone] ... Roxxy? What's up, can I talk to Waylon? ... Nah, that's cool. What y'all doin' for the next few days? ... I want y'all to come out to Oakland, take a little break from it all. ... As soon as you can possibly get your asses out here. ... Aight. ... Yeah, aight.
[Orbit ends the call.]
Steve Orbit: They'll be here tonight.
[Orbit grins. Fade out.]
It is a foggy early morning on Waylon Cash's farm. The sun peaks over the horizon line, illuminating the haze that hangs in the chilly January air. The silence is as thick as the fog. Not so much as a breeze breaks the pristine nature of the landscape. The thick, Georgia evergreens rise high in the distance, on the very edge of Cash's land. They seem to defy nature in the way they refuse to acknowledge the season by dropping their plumage. The stillness is broken by the sight of two men off in the distance, jogging down the long, dirt road. Scott Savage, holding a leather belt in his hand, and dressed in a gray sweatsuit, runs next to Waylon Cash, who is carrying a large log across his shoulders. Cash is wheezing, and sweating profusely, as he struggles to keep his footing under the weight. As Scott runs, he screams at his client, and occasionally slashes the belt viciously across his ab muscles. Waylon's stomach is a lattice of red welts, one of which has busted open, and begun to leak crimson down his lanky torso.
Scott:God DAMMIT Waylon! You are better than this! I know you are! You've let yourself grow weak, and complacent! Is this what love does to a man? Has my sister made you into a spineless weakling?! I hate seeing you like this, and I refuse to quit until I have beaten it out of you!
Eventually they jog across the grass of Waylon's yard, where he collapses, dropping the heavy log on the ground next to him. He lays on his stomach, gasping for breath. Scott grins, as he looks down and sees a drop of blood running from the dirty gouge the log has taken out of his right shoulder. Slowly, Scott crouches down, and rests his elbows on his knees.
Scott:Remember when we were just starting out? We were so hungry, so vicious. We were unregulated ass kickers, and people feared us. What happened? When did you start to worry more about your retirement plans than victory, and immortality? We were supposed to be gods, Waylon! We were supposed to rule the world of wrestling! When did we turn into a sleezey nightclub owner and a cartoonish pot farmer?
Waylon finally manages to catch his breath long enough to reply.
Waylon: Real life happens.
Scott:BULLSHIT!
Scott brings the belt down hard across his clients back, causing a scream to rise from the fallen man's throat. It echoes across the field, causing a flock of birds to take flight from one of the closer trees.
Scott:Gods do not simply allow life to happen to them! They control it! They force their plans upon the universe! We have a rare opportunity here, Waylon. We have the opportunity to reclaim our godhood! We can grab WCF by the balls, and rule it like we always planned, but I need the old Waylon back! I need the angry, starving fighter you used to be. I need you to abandon all other goals in the pursuit of your spot in history! If you can give me the old Waylon, I can promise you that your name will never die in the minds of wrestling fans. I can promise you immortality.
Roxxy:Jesus Christ, Scott! What are you doing to him?
Roxxanne sprints from the house, and drops to her knees next to Waylon. She puts his arm around her shoulders, and helps him stand to his feet.
Waylon:I'm okay baby.
Scott:He is right, he will be fine. He has improved drastically in the last couple weeks.
Roxxanne shoots her brother a death glare, as she wipes the dirt from Waylon's sweat drenched body.
Roxxanne:At what cost? I'm not gonna let him endanger his life to win a fucking title, Scott!
Scott:That is why you signed over his contract, remember? I can do what has to be done, and that is exactly what I am doing. You have to trust my methods.
Roxxanne:How can you expect me to trust you when my fiance looks like he's half dead! Neither of you are in your twenties anymore you can't-
Waylon:ROXXANNE!
The attention of both Savage siblings turns to him.
Waylon:I said I'll be fine. Scott's right, I been coastin' since I came back. I may not be as young as I was last time, but I can be as good as I ever was for long enough to matter. I gotta do this, and I gotta do it Scott's way.
Roxxy:But-
Waylon:I ain't gonna die. Scott knows what he's doin'. I coulda been great, hon. I coulda been a legend by now. The only reason I ain't a legend, is because I had to do things my way. I had to party, and live the lifestyle, and it damn near destroyed my whole career... my whole life. I ain't lettin' that happen again. I let myself get weak, and if I'm gonna be the Waylon Cash I know I can be, I gotta do it this way.
Roxxy stares at him for a few moments, before nodding, and planting a kiss on his unshaven cheek.
Roxxy:Fine, but don't let my brother kill you, because he will.
Scott:Oh come on! I have never killed anyone I did not intend to kill. You know that.
Roxxanne rolls her eyes, before changing the topic entirely.
Roxxy:anyway, Steve called. He wants us to come visit him in Oakland. He thinks you could use some cheering up.
Waylon looks over to Scott, almost as if to ask permission.
Scott: Absolutely. You have bee doing well, Waylon. You deserve it. Take a couple days and recuperate before Payback. You'll need to be rested to beat Odin and Atreyu. I have to prepare as well. I think I may pay Chris Kane a visit. However, I insist on renting a private plane for your trip. With all the lunatics out there lately, I don't need my meal ticket crashing into a building.
The plane ride takes several hours, but the time passes quickly for the young lovers. As Waylon and Roxxy readjust their clothes, and step down the stairs leading to the tarmac, they see Steve Orbit leaning against the trunk of his pimped out '67 El Dorado. The Mack smiles up at the couple, chuckling,a s he finds it obvious what they've been up to.
Orbit:Well, you two are lookin' refreshed. I'm glad you could make it. How was the flight?
Waylon:Kinda rough, but we made it alright.
The tag partners share a laugh, and a fist bump, as Roxxanne rolls her eyes. She tosses her bags into the back, and Waylon follows suit, before they all climb into the vehicle. The bright California sun shines down on then, as Steve brings the engine to life with a turn of the key.
Roxxy:So, where we headed?
Orbit:well, I was gonna take him to a strip club, but since you came along-
Roxxy:Oooh! Strip club!
Waylon:Yeah, I shoulda warned you, she-
Roxxy:Strip club!
Orbit throws back his head in laughter, before pressing down on the gas pedal, and sending them through the gate, toward the freeway. It isn't long before Orbit turns down the radio, and begins discussing strategy.
Orbit:Aight, we gotta come at Benji and Odin from a different angle this time. What we did last time didn't work.
Waylon:I been thinkin' about that. Benji is younger, fresher. What we gotta do is keep Odin in the ring. We gotta wear his old ass out. We gotta keep comin' after him 'til he can't stand. I wanna put that motherfucker out of the business.
Orbit:I hear ya. A little game of beat on the old guy. I dig it. What do we do when Benji gets in there? You know him better than damn near anybody.
Waylon:Well now, that one ain't easy. I been in the ring with that man too many times, and I really can't figure out a surefire way to beat him. You gotta just fight like hell and hope you come out on top. Fightin' that man ain't fun, you know that much.
Orbit chuckles, as he pulls off of the freeway, and begins making his way through the Oakland city streets.
Orbit: All I know is that I'm in the best shape of my life, and I hope to God that Scott did the same for you. No offense, Roxxy.
Roxxy:No worries. After what I saw this morning, I get it. I'm just happy to be managing the future WCF tag team champions.
Orbit:Damn right! That's what I'm talkin' about! We gotta believe, man. We gotta believe, and work our asses off. That's the only way we're gonna beat those assholes. We weren't on our game fully last time, and I could feel it. This time we gotta be the mother fuckin' Homegrown PLAYAS, ya feel me?
Waylon only nods, as the car pulls to a stop in a small parking lot. They all climb out of the vehicle, and look up at the small, brick building. A neon sign above the door reads “Jigglebits”, and in front stands a large, bearded man who looks like he's spent more time in a tattoo parlor than his own home. As the trio approaches, his lips curl upward in a wide smile.
Bouncer:Holy shit! The Homegrown Players! You guys kick ass, man.
Steve smiles at Waylon, before shaking the bouncer's hand.
Orbit:Always cool to meet a fan. How's the action today?
Bouncer:Pretty good. It's dead in there too. You should get plenty of attention.
Orbit laughs, and bumps the man's fist, as he holds the door open for all three of them. As they enter in, their eyes take a second to adjust to the much lower light. The scent of alcohol and cheap perfume hangs in the air, as a DJ sits at his corner booth, playing what seems to be a strip club cliché sampler. The current song is “Girls, Girls, Girls” by Motley Crue. One woman gyrates around a pole, clothed in a very small pink thong, and nothing else, while other scantily clad women walk around on the floor, trying to get what few customers they have to spend as much money as possible. Waylon, Orbit and Roxxy all take their seats around a small wooden table, with a single red candle in the middle. It isn't long at all before a woman in a tiny maid uniform walks up to them.
Waitress:Hey there guys, what can I get for ya?
Orbit:Let's start with a round of Hen for the baddest mother fuckers on the planet!
Roxxy: And a lap dance for the lady!
The waitress smiles at Roxxy, as Orbit gives her an impressed look.
Waitress: You got it, sugar. I'll be right back with those.
The woman walks away, and Roxxy's attention immediately turns to the nearly naked dancer on stage. With a chcukle, Orbit leans in, and whispers to Waylon.
Orbit:I didn't know it was like that. If you want, I can lend you one of my girls, you two can have some fun.
Waylon:Huh?...Oh! No, Roxxy ain't bisexual, she just really like strippers for some reason. I ain't never understood it, but far be it for me to stand in the way of her happiness.
Waylon leans back in his chair, his eyes on the stage as Orbit laughs loudly. The dancer finishes her routine, and steps off stage as the song ends.
DJ:And that was Candy. Next up on the stage, we have Samantha! Show 'em what you got, girl.
A tall, slender red head in a school girl's uniform steps onto the stage, and picks up where Candy left off, swinging herself around the pole, and slowly removing her outfit. After a few minute, the waitress comes back with their drinks, and begins to slowly grind on Roxxanne's lap. Orbit's eyes are locked on the two women, and a wide grin plasters itself across his face. After a few minutes, he notices that Waylon is just slowly sipping his drink, not paying much attention.
Orbit:Hey man. You aight?
Waylon:Yeah, I'm okay. This shit with NvL's got my mind all fucked up though.
Orbit:I don't blame ya. I'd ventilate that mother fucker in a second if I thought I'd get away with it, ya feel me? I'd put that little bitch under.
Waylon:Don;t think I ain't thought about it.
Orbit:What you gotta do is tell Roxxy to go somewhere safe.
Waylon:She'd never go for it. She'd kill me if I even suggested she stay somewhere else during our big title win. She ain't missin' that for nothin'.
Orbit:I hear you man. You gotta get your mind off it. NvL ain't here, and a sexy stripper is giving your equally, if not more sexy fiance a lap dace. Live in the moment man! Get outta your head!
Waylon thinks about his words for a moment, as he watches Roxxy slip a five into the waitresses g-string. After a few moments, he throws back the rest of his drink, and signals for another.
Waylon:You're right. I came here to relax, and recharge. Let's have some fun!
Orbit:That's what I like to hear!
The next couple hours is a blur to Waylon, but it does exactly what it was meant to. He feels his neck muscles loosen for the first time in months. The dancing women, alcohol, and good company keep him in high spirits the entire time, taking his mind completely off of his troubles in WCF. Not once does he think about NvL, or his opponents at Payback. His mind goes slack, and recharges itself. After a while, the trio slowly rises from their chairs, and make their way toward the exit.
Orbit:Well god damn! I gotta have you two out here more often.
Roxxy:Any time Steve. I don't wanna go back to the hotel yet.
Orbit:We can always grab a bite to eat. I know this great barbeque joint just down the road.
Waylon:BARBEQUE! HELL yes!
Waylon yells out in his drunken state, before stumbling slightly on his way out the door of the strip club. Orbit and Roxxy laugh, as they help him not to fall.
Waylon:Okay, so maybe I shoulda said no the the seventh one. Hold up, I gotta pee.
Waylon stumbles his way into a nearby alley, and situates himself at a point where a big, rusted dumpster makes a corner with the brick wall of the club. He begins to relieve himself, but it isn't long before he feels a cold, metal gun barrel pressed against the back of his head. His mind sobers up before the gun's owner even gets the first word out.
Mugger:Aight, I don't wanna hurt you. Gimme your wallet, and I'll go.
Waylon:Alright! I'll give you my money, just take that damn gun off my neck, and let me finish peein'.
Mugger:I mean now, fool!
Steve and Roxxy hear yelling, and run around the corner to see what's going on. The mugger looks up, and aims the gun at them in a panic. Waylon sees the muscles in the man's trigger hand tightening, and on instinct, tackles him. The loud gunshot echoes through the alley, as Waylon makes contact, and drives him into the asphalt below. Cash immediately look up in a panic, only to see that the bullet missed both of his companions. In one moment of stunned confusion, the mugger scrambles out from under Waylon, and sprints off down the alley-- he passes Orbit, noticing his chain glimmering in the moonlight. He stops running. Orbit assumes a fighting position-- the mugger turns around, putting the gun on Orbit.
Mugger:Give me the chain, nigga.
Orbit doesn't budge.
Steve Orbit: I'll die with this fuckin' chain on.
The mugger hesitates for a brief moment-- then pulls the trigger. Nothing but a click. The gun is jammed. Thinking quickly, Orbit lunges forward, but the robber catches him in the back of the head with the butt of the pistol, knocking him to the ground. He reaches down and literally RIPS the chain off of Orbit's neck, before sprinting off down the labrynth of alleys. Orbit slowly gets up, holding the back of his bloody head.
Cash's eyes shoot to his fiance, who hasn't moved from the opening of the alley. She just stand there, staring at the ground, her whole body shaking. Waylon runs over to her, and wraps his arms around her shoulder. He squeezes her tightly, as she just stands there, shaking. It takes a few minutes, bt she speaks in a low whisper.
Roxxy:I heard it fly right past my ear. It whistled... I think I'm ready to go back to the hotel now.
Cash just nods, as he guides her back toward Orbit's car. All three of them climb in, and remain silent for the entire ride, save for Orbit making a phone call, telling someone to meet him at the hotel. The other passengers take no notice. They are both staring out their windows, just watching the city roll by. It's a short trip, but none of them take notice of the time. Waylon and Roxxy get out of the car without a word, and grab their bags, before heading towards the glass doors. Neither of them says a word until they are in their room. It is then that Roxxy looks into her fiance's eyes, and drops her bags.
Roxxy:I'm ok. I promise.
Ordinarily he wouldn't buy it, but something in her eyes tells him she's telling the truth. He collapses backward onto the fresh linens of the king sized bed.
Waylon:I think it's just time to go to bed.
Roxxy:I don't think so, Mr. Cash. I'm gonna prove I'm ok... it's time for some “thank god we're alive sex”
Waylon can only chuckle, as Roxxanne reaches up, and turns off the lights, shielding them in the darkness.
[Orbit begins to speed out of the parking lot of the hotel, when he passes a white 2013 Lincoln Navigator -- realizing it's Havana, he comes to a screetching halt. The two cars idle next to each other and their driver's side windows go down.]
Steve Orbit: Havana, park the truck and get in my fuckin' car, now.
Havana Ginger: What's your problem? What happened to your head?
Steve Orbit: Just get in the fuckin' car, Havana! Now!
[Havana pulls into the closest parking spot and exits the truck. The lights flash as she locks it. She runs to the driver's side of Orbit's Cadillac and gets in.]
Havana Ginger: You mind tellin' me what the fuck is goin' on?
Steve Orbit: Me and Waylon just got fuckin' robbed, I got pistol whipped, and we almost got shot. Some real deep, fucked up shit, Havana. And I'ma go get this mother fucker right now.
[Orbit starts to speed off.]
Havana Ginger: You know who did it?
Steve Orbit: The gun. I know the gun, it's a custom two-tone pistol. It used to be my boy Binno's but he sold it to this fuckin' little peice of shit crack dealer named Jose, and we're gonna go pay his ass a visit.
Havana Ginger: Shit, let's fuckin' ride, nigga-- you got a peice?
Steve Orbit: You know I don't carry no gun, Havana. I'm a felon, I can't carry a gun. Besides, I don't need no gun, I'm a fuckin' pro wrestler, remember?
[Havana zips open her purse and pulls out a small .22 pistol.]
Havana Ginger: I told you you ain't shit without me.
[Orbit shakes his head. The car speeds down the road. Fade out.]
[Fade in. Orbit's Cadillac speeds onto the lawn of a ghetto-looking house.]
Steve Orbit: Wait here.
Havana Ginger: No fuckin' way, Steve.
Steve Orbit: Havana, I said wait here.
[Orbit gets out of the car, slamming the door. Havana stays put, looking upset. Orbit bangs on the front door of the house... no answer, but a light inside one of the rooms comes on. Orbit walks towards that window, and starts knocking on the window. Finally, the front door opens. Orbit walks to the door-- a short, fat Mexican guy stands in the doorway, looking half-asleep.]
Jose: Steve?
Steve Orbit: Get in the fuckin' house.
[Orbit shoves him in the house and slams the door shut behind him. Inside the house, Orbit clocks Jose with a huge right hand. Then he throws him over a couch, and jumps on top of him. He hits him with a few more right hands.]
Steve Orbit: Where's your gun, Jose?
Jose: Yo, what the fuck?
[Orbit punches him again, and grabs him by his shirt.]
Steve Orbit: WHERE'S YOUR FUCKIN' GUN?
Jose: What gun?
Steve Orbit: Don't fuckin' play with me. I know it was you, mother fucker. Here's how it's gonna go down. You give me my chain back right now and I might not kill yo' ass.
Jose: Woah, woah... slow down, Steve. Slow down. What the fuck are you talking about, homes?
[Orbit starts to back off. They both stand up.]
Steve Orbit: The gun that Binno sold you a couple years ago. Where is it.
Jose: I sold it, man! I pawned it down at that 24 hour pawn shop on International, you can go there and fuckin' ask the owner. I deal with him all the time.
[Orbit grabs him again.]
Steve Orbit: Why the fuck should I believe you?
[Jose lifts up his pant leg, exposing a GPS bracelet.]
Jose: I got popped six months ago. I'm on house arrest, homes. I didn't rob you, and I don't have the gun no more. Aight?
[Orbit brushes Jose's clothes off.]
Steve Orbit: Aight, player. My bad for the misunderstanding.
Jose: Listen homes, you can't just come up in my crib like this--
[Orbit raises his fist. Jose backs off.]
Steve Orbit: Good luck with your crack business. Mother fucker.
[Orbit leaves the house, slamming the door. He goes back to the car where Havana is waiting.]
Havana Ginger: Well?
Steve Orbit: Wasn't him.
[Orbit starts the car and backs onto the street.]
Havana Ginger: Where you goin' now?
Steve Orbit: To find out who's got that gun.
[Havana shrugs. She pulls out a small baggie of cocaine, pours a little bit on the back of her hand and sniffs it. She offers it to Orbit.]
Steve Orbit: All set. And you need to cut down on that shit.
Havana Ginger: You need to lighten the fuck up.
Steve Orbit: Lighten up?! Bitch, I just almost got killed--
Havana Ginger: Yeah, yeah, yeah, stop cryin' about it. Jesus.
[Orbit's nostrils flare with anger as he speeds off. A few turns later and they arrive at a small pawn shop. It's the middle of the night, so the place is empty-- except for the owner, a white guy sitting behind the counter, reading a magazine. He looks Orbit up and down as he enters.]
Store Owner: Can I help you? You lookin' to pawn some of that gold, buddy?
Steve Orbit: Where you keep the guns?
[The owner shrugs his shoulders.]
Store Owner: We don't sell firearms.
[Orbit approaches the counter. He pulls out a wad of cash.]
Steve Orbit: I heard you do.
[The owner looks at the cash and leans against the counter.]
Store Owner: Who'd you hear that from?
[Orbit hands over a 100 bill.]
Steve Orbit: Jose.
[The owner unhinges a section of the counter and raises it, creating a path for Orbit to enter. He walks towards a back room and motions for Orbit to follow him. They reach a locked door-- the owner fiddles with his keys until he finds the right one, and proceeds to open the door. He flips the light switch on, and they enter a small storage room. Rifles hang on the walls, and pistols lay in glass cases lining the room.]
Store Owner: You looking for anything in particular?
Steve Orbit: Nah, I don't wanna buy a gun. I want some information. Jose sold you a gun-- it's unique, a two-tone gold plated .45. You still got it?
Store Owner: Nope.
[Orbit offers another 100 bill.]
Steve Orbit: You remember who you sold it to?
[The owner chuckles.]
Store Owner: This room is cash only, son. No ID required, no records kept. You have to understand that discretion is very important to both parties when it comes to this type of transaction.
Steve Orbit: Oh, I hear you, I understand.
[Orbit offers several more 100 bills.]
Steve Orbit: Look, I ain't no cop, I ain't nobody, shit-- I was never here, you feel me? I just need to find that gun. If you could just tell me anything that could help me out...
[The owner takes the bills and counts them, seemingly thinking it over.]
Store Owner: I don't know the guy's name. He's in here quite a bit, though-- only thing I can really tell you is, he drives a real sweet '66 Impala. I sold him some 24 inch rims for it a couple weeks ago.
Steve Orbit: What color is the car?
Store Owner: It's black.
[Orbit nods his head.]
Steve Orbit: Aight, thanks for the help, homie.
[Orbit takes out his cellphone and searches through the contacts, as he through the store and eventually out into the parking lot, getting into his car where Havana is waiting. Havana's eyes are wide as she smokes a cigarette.]
Havana Ginger: The fuck took you so long?
Steve Orbit: I was in there for like five minutes, chill.
Havana Ginger: What'd he say?
Steve Orbit: I think I know how to find this mother fucker.
[Orbit makes a call on his cellphone. He's calling "Rose", a corrupt VICE officer who has been extorting Golden Joey's prostitution businesses for decades in exchange for protection from the law.]
Steve Orbit: Rose, it's Orbit. ... Yeah, I know what fuckin' time it is. Look, I need somethin'. ... Nah, I didn't get arrested, it ain't like that. I need to know who's the mother fucker around town who's drivin' a black '66 Impala on 24 inch rims. ... 'Cause I just need to know! ... Yeah, you know I got you. So come on, tell me somethin'. ... Uh huh. ... Yeah. ... Where's he stay at? ... You sure? ... Aight.
[Orbit ends the call.]
Steve Orbit: Got you, fucker.
[Orbit starts the car, peeling tire as he exits the parking lot and speeds down the street.]
Havana Ginger: Who is it?
Steve Orbit: Rose said it's some young kid who just moved in from San Francisco, tryin' to pull power moves in Oakland-- tryin' to bring in dope, girls, whatever. Rose said he's makin' a lot of noise in the town. It's time to get gangsta up in this mother fucker. This is MY fuckin' town. This is MY 'hood. Don't nobody come up in my town and stick me up. It ain't goin' down like that.
[Havana pulls out the baggie of coke.]
Steve Orbit: Give me a bump of that shit.
[Havana pours some cocaine on the back of her hand, and reaches over to Orbit-- he sniffs it. They repeat this a few times, with Orbit looking more and more wild with each blast.
Finally, they reach their destination-- the black '66 Impala is on the lawn in front of the house. Orbit's jaw is clenched and his eyes are wide open and wild. He's breathing heavy. He and Havana do a couple more lines off the center console of his car and then exit the vehicle. Orbit tucks Havana's gun into his pants.]
Steve Orbit: Go around the back of the house. I'ma knock on the door. He must have heard us roll up.
[Havana gives an evil smile. She dashes around to the back of the house. Orbit sees a light inside the house from a side window. He creeps towards the window and peeks inside-- inside, we see a shirtless man with a heavily tattooed body and a bald head, wearing gray sweatpants. He is sitting on a sofa, smoking a blunt. Next to him is a heavy-set girl with a TV remote in her hand. Orbit is able to see the entire room from the window-- he sees his chain sitting on a side table, next to them.
Orbit walks around the house and meets Havana. They both have that crazy, coked up look.]
Steve Orbit: This is the mother fucker. I saw my link on the fuckin' table next to him. I'm goin' in.
Havana Ginger: Shit, I'm goin' too.
Steve Orbit: Aight. You take the bitch. I got the nigga.
Havana Ginger: No doubt.
Steve Orbit: Aight. It's goin' down like this. You bang on the back door, make a lot of noise. Distract them. And then I'm kickin' in the front door and goin' for my chain. If they wanna fight, we fight, fuck it.
Havana Ginger: Let's do it.
[Orbit walks around the house, towards the front. Havana starts banging on the back door and yelling, kicking the door and screaming.
In the front of the house, we see Orbit back up and kick the front door, shaking it, but not opening it. We hear a lot of commotion inside the house. Orbit kicks the door two more times and it unhinges. He pushes the door out of the way and enters the house.
In the back of the house, Havana has found a baseball bat. She cracks the heavy-set woman over the head with the bat and forces her way into the house. The man starts to back up-- he goes to reach into a nearby drawer, but Havana swings the bat at his arm. He draws his arm away so she misses-- he grabs the bat and pulls Havana closer, dropping her with a right hook.
Orbit approaches from behind, pointing the gun at the man.]
Steve Orbit: Get away from the girl.
[The man turns around. Seeing the pistol, he puts his hands up.]
Steve Orbit: Remember me?
[The man just smiles.]
Steve Orbit: I'm takin' my chain back. If you try and stop me, I'ma fuckin' blast you.
[Havana gets up from the floor, holding her chin, blood in her mouth.]
Havana Ginger: Fuckin' shoot him, Steve.
Steve Orbit: Chill, Havana. Go get my chain.
[Orbit motions to a room on the side. Havana goes into the room, as Orbit keeps the man at a safe distance with the gun pointed at him. After a moment, she comes back with the chain.]
Steve Orbit: This is MY town, mother fucker. You wanna make money in Oakland? That's fine, but don't knock no food off my plate. You better hope to God you never cross my fuckin' path again, you feel me?
Man: This ain't over. I'm gonna find you.
[Orbit releases the safety off the gun.]
Steve Orbit: No. You gonna forget this whole night ever happened and go about your mother fuckin' business, just like I'm gonna do. You don't want no part of me, homeboy. I'll burn this whole fuckin' house down.
Man: We'll see about that.
[Orbit and Havana start to move backwards towards the broken front door. The man stays still with his hands in the air, still smiling. When they reach the outside, the run to the car, slamming the doors as they enter. Orbit starts the car and backs out of the driveway, speeding away.]
Havana Ginger: You think he's gonna come after you?
Steve Orbit: Not unless he's fuckin' stupid. He knows who the fuck I am.
[There's a moment of silence, until Havana breaks out the bag of coke again and does another bump off the back of her hand.]
Havana Ginger: You think all that was worth it just for a chain? You could buy a hundred of those chains.
Steve Orbit: Not like this one.
[Orbit hands the chain to Havana.]
Steve Orbit: See that diamond?
[Havana holds it up to the light.]
Steve Orbit: There's this company called LifeGem. They make diamonds out of human ashes. That's my momma on that chain.
[Havana looks at the diamond in disbelief.]
Steve Orbit: I'd rather die than let somebody take that mother fucker away from me. You can believe that.
[Havana puts the chain back into Orbit's hand... and locks her fingers with his. She looks into his eyes as they speed down the street... thinking about the night they had. Fade out.]
Steve Orbit: Yeah man, I just had to get away from that bitch for a few days, homie. I think I fucked up when I bought that house.
[Joey starts laughing.]
Golden Joey: You think? Dogg-- I told you that bitch was trouble from day mother fuckin' one. [laughs] And you go half on a house with her like a fuckin' square. What's next, huh? Little Steve Juniors runnin' around?
Steve Orbit: Man, fuck you. She got that killer pussy, I mean-- her pussy is on some space age shit, man, she takin' me to other planets and mother fuckin' galaxies, I think I seen God a couple times up in that pussy. You think her movies are nasty? Havana don't even do half, not even one PERCENT of what she's capable of in her God damn movies--
[Joey cuts him off.]
Golden Joey: Please. I don't know what kinda pimp I'm lookin' at right now. I ain't never heard of no pimp gettin' wrapped around no pussy before, you supposed to be about gettin' that mother fuckin' money-- not splittin' a house with some porno bitch. You done lost your damn mind, Steve.
Steve Orbit: Joey, I can kick her ass to the curb any time I feel like it. She knows that and I know that. Shit, that's what's up.
[Tina, the receptionist, pops her head in the door.]
Tina: Steve, your girlfriend is here.
[Orbit sits up in the recliner.]
Steve Orbit: Yo, hold up-- first of all, she ain't my girl--
[Tina is brushed aside by Havana Ginger. She's wearing a short, tight dress, off-white in color, with matching heels. She's got several large shopping bags in her arms.]
Havana Ginger: Hey baby, what the fuck y'all doin'?
[Orbit stands up, trying to shake the shocked look off of his face, and turn it into one of pleasant surprise.]
Steve Orbit: Oh, uh-- hey, girl! We was just talkin' about you-- what you doin' out here, I thought you had that thing in Boston?
[She drops her bags in Steve's lap.]
Havana Ginger: Surprise, surprise. It got cancelled and I got a photo shoot in San Fransisco instead-- I figured I'd come stay with you out here.
[Joey puts his hands over his mouth, hiding his laugh.]
Steve Orbit: Oh, that's... yeah, that's great, Havana. Cool. Hey, can you just give us a minute? We were kinda talkin' about business--
[Havana sits in a chair next to Orbit.]
Havana Ginger: It's fine, I'll wait for you, boo.
Steve Orbit: That's not what I...
[Havana gets that look. That woman look.]
Havana Ginger: Not what you what, Steve?
Steve Orbit: Forget it, we almost done anyway. So uh, Joey, where were we?
Golden Joey: You was about to tell me about your Tag Team title rematch.
Steve Orbit: Oh yeah, that. Well, shit... you know I'm ready to go, but Waylon... that mother fucker is havin' some emotional issues or somethin'. I dunno where his head is at, he's all depressed--
Golden Joey: So cheer his ass up. Bring him out here, take him to a strip club, chill him out for a few days. That's all you gotta do, dogg.
Steve Orbit: You think so?
Golden Joey: Hell yeah. Get him away from it all and show him a good time, Oakland style. Take him to one of them trashy downtown clubs, maybe you can find a diamond in the rough and pull her for Club Violet.
Steve Orbit: Aight, no doubt. I'ma call his ass right now.
[Orbit takes out his cellphone and makes a call.]
Steve Orbit: [on the phone] ... Roxxy? What's up, can I talk to Waylon? ... Nah, that's cool. What y'all doin' for the next few days? ... I want y'all to come out to Oakland, take a little break from it all. ... As soon as you can possibly get your asses out here. ... Aight. ... Yeah, aight.
[Orbit ends the call.]
Steve Orbit: They'll be here tonight.
[Orbit grins. Fade out.]
It is a foggy early morning on Waylon Cash's farm. The sun peaks over the horizon line, illuminating the haze that hangs in the chilly January air. The silence is as thick as the fog. Not so much as a breeze breaks the pristine nature of the landscape. The thick, Georgia evergreens rise high in the distance, on the very edge of Cash's land. They seem to defy nature in the way they refuse to acknowledge the season by dropping their plumage. The stillness is broken by the sight of two men off in the distance, jogging down the long, dirt road. Scott Savage, holding a leather belt in his hand, and dressed in a gray sweatsuit, runs next to Waylon Cash, who is carrying a large log across his shoulders. Cash is wheezing, and sweating profusely, as he struggles to keep his footing under the weight. As Scott runs, he screams at his client, and occasionally slashes the belt viciously across his ab muscles. Waylon's stomach is a lattice of red welts, one of which has busted open, and begun to leak crimson down his lanky torso.
Scott:God DAMMIT Waylon! You are better than this! I know you are! You've let yourself grow weak, and complacent! Is this what love does to a man? Has my sister made you into a spineless weakling?! I hate seeing you like this, and I refuse to quit until I have beaten it out of you!
Eventually they jog across the grass of Waylon's yard, where he collapses, dropping the heavy log on the ground next to him. He lays on his stomach, gasping for breath. Scott grins, as he looks down and sees a drop of blood running from the dirty gouge the log has taken out of his right shoulder. Slowly, Scott crouches down, and rests his elbows on his knees.
Scott:Remember when we were just starting out? We were so hungry, so vicious. We were unregulated ass kickers, and people feared us. What happened? When did you start to worry more about your retirement plans than victory, and immortality? We were supposed to be gods, Waylon! We were supposed to rule the world of wrestling! When did we turn into a sleezey nightclub owner and a cartoonish pot farmer?
Waylon finally manages to catch his breath long enough to reply.
Waylon: Real life happens.
Scott:BULLSHIT!
Scott brings the belt down hard across his clients back, causing a scream to rise from the fallen man's throat. It echoes across the field, causing a flock of birds to take flight from one of the closer trees.
Scott:Gods do not simply allow life to happen to them! They control it! They force their plans upon the universe! We have a rare opportunity here, Waylon. We have the opportunity to reclaim our godhood! We can grab WCF by the balls, and rule it like we always planned, but I need the old Waylon back! I need the angry, starving fighter you used to be. I need you to abandon all other goals in the pursuit of your spot in history! If you can give me the old Waylon, I can promise you that your name will never die in the minds of wrestling fans. I can promise you immortality.
Roxxy:Jesus Christ, Scott! What are you doing to him?
Roxxanne sprints from the house, and drops to her knees next to Waylon. She puts his arm around her shoulders, and helps him stand to his feet.
Waylon:I'm okay baby.
Scott:He is right, he will be fine. He has improved drastically in the last couple weeks.
Roxxanne shoots her brother a death glare, as she wipes the dirt from Waylon's sweat drenched body.
Roxxanne:At what cost? I'm not gonna let him endanger his life to win a fucking title, Scott!
Scott:That is why you signed over his contract, remember? I can do what has to be done, and that is exactly what I am doing. You have to trust my methods.
Roxxanne:How can you expect me to trust you when my fiance looks like he's half dead! Neither of you are in your twenties anymore you can't-
Waylon:ROXXANNE!
The attention of both Savage siblings turns to him.
Waylon:I said I'll be fine. Scott's right, I been coastin' since I came back. I may not be as young as I was last time, but I can be as good as I ever was for long enough to matter. I gotta do this, and I gotta do it Scott's way.
Roxxy:But-
Waylon:I ain't gonna die. Scott knows what he's doin'. I coulda been great, hon. I coulda been a legend by now. The only reason I ain't a legend, is because I had to do things my way. I had to party, and live the lifestyle, and it damn near destroyed my whole career... my whole life. I ain't lettin' that happen again. I let myself get weak, and if I'm gonna be the Waylon Cash I know I can be, I gotta do it this way.
Roxxy stares at him for a few moments, before nodding, and planting a kiss on his unshaven cheek.
Roxxy:Fine, but don't let my brother kill you, because he will.
Scott:Oh come on! I have never killed anyone I did not intend to kill. You know that.
Roxxanne rolls her eyes, before changing the topic entirely.
Roxxy:anyway, Steve called. He wants us to come visit him in Oakland. He thinks you could use some cheering up.
Waylon looks over to Scott, almost as if to ask permission.
Scott: Absolutely. You have bee doing well, Waylon. You deserve it. Take a couple days and recuperate before Payback. You'll need to be rested to beat Odin and Atreyu. I have to prepare as well. I think I may pay Chris Kane a visit. However, I insist on renting a private plane for your trip. With all the lunatics out there lately, I don't need my meal ticket crashing into a building.
The plane ride takes several hours, but the time passes quickly for the young lovers. As Waylon and Roxxy readjust their clothes, and step down the stairs leading to the tarmac, they see Steve Orbit leaning against the trunk of his pimped out '67 El Dorado. The Mack smiles up at the couple, chuckling,a s he finds it obvious what they've been up to.
Orbit:Well, you two are lookin' refreshed. I'm glad you could make it. How was the flight?
Waylon:Kinda rough, but we made it alright.
The tag partners share a laugh, and a fist bump, as Roxxanne rolls her eyes. She tosses her bags into the back, and Waylon follows suit, before they all climb into the vehicle. The bright California sun shines down on then, as Steve brings the engine to life with a turn of the key.
Roxxy:So, where we headed?
Orbit:well, I was gonna take him to a strip club, but since you came along-
Roxxy:Oooh! Strip club!
Waylon:Yeah, I shoulda warned you, she-
Roxxy:Strip club!
Orbit throws back his head in laughter, before pressing down on the gas pedal, and sending them through the gate, toward the freeway. It isn't long before Orbit turns down the radio, and begins discussing strategy.
Orbit:Aight, we gotta come at Benji and Odin from a different angle this time. What we did last time didn't work.
Waylon:I been thinkin' about that. Benji is younger, fresher. What we gotta do is keep Odin in the ring. We gotta wear his old ass out. We gotta keep comin' after him 'til he can't stand. I wanna put that motherfucker out of the business.
Orbit:I hear ya. A little game of beat on the old guy. I dig it. What do we do when Benji gets in there? You know him better than damn near anybody.
Waylon:Well now, that one ain't easy. I been in the ring with that man too many times, and I really can't figure out a surefire way to beat him. You gotta just fight like hell and hope you come out on top. Fightin' that man ain't fun, you know that much.
Orbit chuckles, as he pulls off of the freeway, and begins making his way through the Oakland city streets.
Orbit: All I know is that I'm in the best shape of my life, and I hope to God that Scott did the same for you. No offense, Roxxy.
Roxxy:No worries. After what I saw this morning, I get it. I'm just happy to be managing the future WCF tag team champions.
Orbit:Damn right! That's what I'm talkin' about! We gotta believe, man. We gotta believe, and work our asses off. That's the only way we're gonna beat those assholes. We weren't on our game fully last time, and I could feel it. This time we gotta be the mother fuckin' Homegrown PLAYAS, ya feel me?
Waylon only nods, as the car pulls to a stop in a small parking lot. They all climb out of the vehicle, and look up at the small, brick building. A neon sign above the door reads “Jigglebits”, and in front stands a large, bearded man who looks like he's spent more time in a tattoo parlor than his own home. As the trio approaches, his lips curl upward in a wide smile.
Bouncer:Holy shit! The Homegrown Players! You guys kick ass, man.
Steve smiles at Waylon, before shaking the bouncer's hand.
Orbit:Always cool to meet a fan. How's the action today?
Bouncer:Pretty good. It's dead in there too. You should get plenty of attention.
Orbit laughs, and bumps the man's fist, as he holds the door open for all three of them. As they enter in, their eyes take a second to adjust to the much lower light. The scent of alcohol and cheap perfume hangs in the air, as a DJ sits at his corner booth, playing what seems to be a strip club cliché sampler. The current song is “Girls, Girls, Girls” by Motley Crue. One woman gyrates around a pole, clothed in a very small pink thong, and nothing else, while other scantily clad women walk around on the floor, trying to get what few customers they have to spend as much money as possible. Waylon, Orbit and Roxxy all take their seats around a small wooden table, with a single red candle in the middle. It isn't long at all before a woman in a tiny maid uniform walks up to them.
Waitress:Hey there guys, what can I get for ya?
Orbit:Let's start with a round of Hen for the baddest mother fuckers on the planet!
Roxxy: And a lap dance for the lady!
The waitress smiles at Roxxy, as Orbit gives her an impressed look.
Waitress: You got it, sugar. I'll be right back with those.
The woman walks away, and Roxxy's attention immediately turns to the nearly naked dancer on stage. With a chcukle, Orbit leans in, and whispers to Waylon.
Orbit:I didn't know it was like that. If you want, I can lend you one of my girls, you two can have some fun.
Waylon:Huh?...Oh! No, Roxxy ain't bisexual, she just really like strippers for some reason. I ain't never understood it, but far be it for me to stand in the way of her happiness.
Waylon leans back in his chair, his eyes on the stage as Orbit laughs loudly. The dancer finishes her routine, and steps off stage as the song ends.
DJ:And that was Candy. Next up on the stage, we have Samantha! Show 'em what you got, girl.
A tall, slender red head in a school girl's uniform steps onto the stage, and picks up where Candy left off, swinging herself around the pole, and slowly removing her outfit. After a few minute, the waitress comes back with their drinks, and begins to slowly grind on Roxxanne's lap. Orbit's eyes are locked on the two women, and a wide grin plasters itself across his face. After a few minutes, he notices that Waylon is just slowly sipping his drink, not paying much attention.
Orbit:Hey man. You aight?
Waylon:Yeah, I'm okay. This shit with NvL's got my mind all fucked up though.
Orbit:I don't blame ya. I'd ventilate that mother fucker in a second if I thought I'd get away with it, ya feel me? I'd put that little bitch under.
Waylon:Don;t think I ain't thought about it.
Orbit:What you gotta do is tell Roxxy to go somewhere safe.
Waylon:She'd never go for it. She'd kill me if I even suggested she stay somewhere else during our big title win. She ain't missin' that for nothin'.
Orbit:I hear you man. You gotta get your mind off it. NvL ain't here, and a sexy stripper is giving your equally, if not more sexy fiance a lap dace. Live in the moment man! Get outta your head!
Waylon thinks about his words for a moment, as he watches Roxxy slip a five into the waitresses g-string. After a few moments, he throws back the rest of his drink, and signals for another.
Waylon:You're right. I came here to relax, and recharge. Let's have some fun!
Orbit:That's what I like to hear!
The next couple hours is a blur to Waylon, but it does exactly what it was meant to. He feels his neck muscles loosen for the first time in months. The dancing women, alcohol, and good company keep him in high spirits the entire time, taking his mind completely off of his troubles in WCF. Not once does he think about NvL, or his opponents at Payback. His mind goes slack, and recharges itself. After a while, the trio slowly rises from their chairs, and make their way toward the exit.
Orbit:Well god damn! I gotta have you two out here more often.
Roxxy:Any time Steve. I don't wanna go back to the hotel yet.
Orbit:We can always grab a bite to eat. I know this great barbeque joint just down the road.
Waylon:BARBEQUE! HELL yes!
Waylon yells out in his drunken state, before stumbling slightly on his way out the door of the strip club. Orbit and Roxxy laugh, as they help him not to fall.
Waylon:Okay, so maybe I shoulda said no the the seventh one. Hold up, I gotta pee.
Waylon stumbles his way into a nearby alley, and situates himself at a point where a big, rusted dumpster makes a corner with the brick wall of the club. He begins to relieve himself, but it isn't long before he feels a cold, metal gun barrel pressed against the back of his head. His mind sobers up before the gun's owner even gets the first word out.
Mugger:Aight, I don't wanna hurt you. Gimme your wallet, and I'll go.
Waylon:Alright! I'll give you my money, just take that damn gun off my neck, and let me finish peein'.
Mugger:I mean now, fool!
Steve and Roxxy hear yelling, and run around the corner to see what's going on. The mugger looks up, and aims the gun at them in a panic. Waylon sees the muscles in the man's trigger hand tightening, and on instinct, tackles him. The loud gunshot echoes through the alley, as Waylon makes contact, and drives him into the asphalt below. Cash immediately look up in a panic, only to see that the bullet missed both of his companions. In one moment of stunned confusion, the mugger scrambles out from under Waylon, and sprints off down the alley-- he passes Orbit, noticing his chain glimmering in the moonlight. He stops running. Orbit assumes a fighting position-- the mugger turns around, putting the gun on Orbit.
Mugger:Give me the chain, nigga.
Orbit doesn't budge.
Steve Orbit: I'll die with this fuckin' chain on.
The mugger hesitates for a brief moment-- then pulls the trigger. Nothing but a click. The gun is jammed. Thinking quickly, Orbit lunges forward, but the robber catches him in the back of the head with the butt of the pistol, knocking him to the ground. He reaches down and literally RIPS the chain off of Orbit's neck, before sprinting off down the labrynth of alleys. Orbit slowly gets up, holding the back of his bloody head.
Cash's eyes shoot to his fiance, who hasn't moved from the opening of the alley. She just stand there, staring at the ground, her whole body shaking. Waylon runs over to her, and wraps his arms around her shoulder. He squeezes her tightly, as she just stands there, shaking. It takes a few minutes, bt she speaks in a low whisper.
Roxxy:I heard it fly right past my ear. It whistled... I think I'm ready to go back to the hotel now.
Cash just nods, as he guides her back toward Orbit's car. All three of them climb in, and remain silent for the entire ride, save for Orbit making a phone call, telling someone to meet him at the hotel. The other passengers take no notice. They are both staring out their windows, just watching the city roll by. It's a short trip, but none of them take notice of the time. Waylon and Roxxy get out of the car without a word, and grab their bags, before heading towards the glass doors. Neither of them says a word until they are in their room. It is then that Roxxy looks into her fiance's eyes, and drops her bags.
Roxxy:I'm ok. I promise.
Ordinarily he wouldn't buy it, but something in her eyes tells him she's telling the truth. He collapses backward onto the fresh linens of the king sized bed.
Waylon:I think it's just time to go to bed.
Roxxy:I don't think so, Mr. Cash. I'm gonna prove I'm ok... it's time for some “thank god we're alive sex”
Waylon can only chuckle, as Roxxanne reaches up, and turns off the lights, shielding them in the darkness.
[Orbit begins to speed out of the parking lot of the hotel, when he passes a white 2013 Lincoln Navigator -- realizing it's Havana, he comes to a screetching halt. The two cars idle next to each other and their driver's side windows go down.]
Steve Orbit: Havana, park the truck and get in my fuckin' car, now.
Havana Ginger: What's your problem? What happened to your head?
Steve Orbit: Just get in the fuckin' car, Havana! Now!
[Havana pulls into the closest parking spot and exits the truck. The lights flash as she locks it. She runs to the driver's side of Orbit's Cadillac and gets in.]
Havana Ginger: You mind tellin' me what the fuck is goin' on?
Steve Orbit: Me and Waylon just got fuckin' robbed, I got pistol whipped, and we almost got shot. Some real deep, fucked up shit, Havana. And I'ma go get this mother fucker right now.
[Orbit starts to speed off.]
Havana Ginger: You know who did it?
Steve Orbit: The gun. I know the gun, it's a custom two-tone pistol. It used to be my boy Binno's but he sold it to this fuckin' little peice of shit crack dealer named Jose, and we're gonna go pay his ass a visit.
Havana Ginger: Shit, let's fuckin' ride, nigga-- you got a peice?
Steve Orbit: You know I don't carry no gun, Havana. I'm a felon, I can't carry a gun. Besides, I don't need no gun, I'm a fuckin' pro wrestler, remember?
[Havana zips open her purse and pulls out a small .22 pistol.]
Havana Ginger: I told you you ain't shit without me.
[Orbit shakes his head. The car speeds down the road. Fade out.]
[Fade in. Orbit's Cadillac speeds onto the lawn of a ghetto-looking house.]
Steve Orbit: Wait here.
Havana Ginger: No fuckin' way, Steve.
Steve Orbit: Havana, I said wait here.
[Orbit gets out of the car, slamming the door. Havana stays put, looking upset. Orbit bangs on the front door of the house... no answer, but a light inside one of the rooms comes on. Orbit walks towards that window, and starts knocking on the window. Finally, the front door opens. Orbit walks to the door-- a short, fat Mexican guy stands in the doorway, looking half-asleep.]
Jose: Steve?
Steve Orbit: Get in the fuckin' house.
[Orbit shoves him in the house and slams the door shut behind him. Inside the house, Orbit clocks Jose with a huge right hand. Then he throws him over a couch, and jumps on top of him. He hits him with a few more right hands.]
Steve Orbit: Where's your gun, Jose?
Jose: Yo, what the fuck?
[Orbit punches him again, and grabs him by his shirt.]
Steve Orbit: WHERE'S YOUR FUCKIN' GUN?
Jose: What gun?
Steve Orbit: Don't fuckin' play with me. I know it was you, mother fucker. Here's how it's gonna go down. You give me my chain back right now and I might not kill yo' ass.
Jose: Woah, woah... slow down, Steve. Slow down. What the fuck are you talking about, homes?
[Orbit starts to back off. They both stand up.]
Steve Orbit: The gun that Binno sold you a couple years ago. Where is it.
Jose: I sold it, man! I pawned it down at that 24 hour pawn shop on International, you can go there and fuckin' ask the owner. I deal with him all the time.
[Orbit grabs him again.]
Steve Orbit: Why the fuck should I believe you?
[Jose lifts up his pant leg, exposing a GPS bracelet.]
Jose: I got popped six months ago. I'm on house arrest, homes. I didn't rob you, and I don't have the gun no more. Aight?
[Orbit brushes Jose's clothes off.]
Steve Orbit: Aight, player. My bad for the misunderstanding.
Jose: Listen homes, you can't just come up in my crib like this--
[Orbit raises his fist. Jose backs off.]
Steve Orbit: Good luck with your crack business. Mother fucker.
[Orbit leaves the house, slamming the door. He goes back to the car where Havana is waiting.]
Havana Ginger: Well?
Steve Orbit: Wasn't him.
[Orbit starts the car and backs onto the street.]
Havana Ginger: Where you goin' now?
Steve Orbit: To find out who's got that gun.
[Havana shrugs. She pulls out a small baggie of cocaine, pours a little bit on the back of her hand and sniffs it. She offers it to Orbit.]
Steve Orbit: All set. And you need to cut down on that shit.
Havana Ginger: You need to lighten the fuck up.
Steve Orbit: Lighten up?! Bitch, I just almost got killed--
Havana Ginger: Yeah, yeah, yeah, stop cryin' about it. Jesus.
[Orbit's nostrils flare with anger as he speeds off. A few turns later and they arrive at a small pawn shop. It's the middle of the night, so the place is empty-- except for the owner, a white guy sitting behind the counter, reading a magazine. He looks Orbit up and down as he enters.]
Store Owner: Can I help you? You lookin' to pawn some of that gold, buddy?
Steve Orbit: Where you keep the guns?
[The owner shrugs his shoulders.]
Store Owner: We don't sell firearms.
[Orbit approaches the counter. He pulls out a wad of cash.]
Steve Orbit: I heard you do.
[The owner looks at the cash and leans against the counter.]
Store Owner: Who'd you hear that from?
[Orbit hands over a 100 bill.]
Steve Orbit: Jose.
[The owner unhinges a section of the counter and raises it, creating a path for Orbit to enter. He walks towards a back room and motions for Orbit to follow him. They reach a locked door-- the owner fiddles with his keys until he finds the right one, and proceeds to open the door. He flips the light switch on, and they enter a small storage room. Rifles hang on the walls, and pistols lay in glass cases lining the room.]
Store Owner: You looking for anything in particular?
Steve Orbit: Nah, I don't wanna buy a gun. I want some information. Jose sold you a gun-- it's unique, a two-tone gold plated .45. You still got it?
Store Owner: Nope.
[Orbit offers another 100 bill.]
Steve Orbit: You remember who you sold it to?
[The owner chuckles.]
Store Owner: This room is cash only, son. No ID required, no records kept. You have to understand that discretion is very important to both parties when it comes to this type of transaction.
Steve Orbit: Oh, I hear you, I understand.
[Orbit offers several more 100 bills.]
Steve Orbit: Look, I ain't no cop, I ain't nobody, shit-- I was never here, you feel me? I just need to find that gun. If you could just tell me anything that could help me out...
[The owner takes the bills and counts them, seemingly thinking it over.]
Store Owner: I don't know the guy's name. He's in here quite a bit, though-- only thing I can really tell you is, he drives a real sweet '66 Impala. I sold him some 24 inch rims for it a couple weeks ago.
Steve Orbit: What color is the car?
Store Owner: It's black.
[Orbit nods his head.]
Steve Orbit: Aight, thanks for the help, homie.
[Orbit takes out his cellphone and searches through the contacts, as he through the store and eventually out into the parking lot, getting into his car where Havana is waiting. Havana's eyes are wide as she smokes a cigarette.]
Havana Ginger: The fuck took you so long?
Steve Orbit: I was in there for like five minutes, chill.
Havana Ginger: What'd he say?
Steve Orbit: I think I know how to find this mother fucker.
[Orbit makes a call on his cellphone. He's calling "Rose", a corrupt VICE officer who has been extorting Golden Joey's prostitution businesses for decades in exchange for protection from the law.]
Steve Orbit: Rose, it's Orbit. ... Yeah, I know what fuckin' time it is. Look, I need somethin'. ... Nah, I didn't get arrested, it ain't like that. I need to know who's the mother fucker around town who's drivin' a black '66 Impala on 24 inch rims. ... 'Cause I just need to know! ... Yeah, you know I got you. So come on, tell me somethin'. ... Uh huh. ... Yeah. ... Where's he stay at? ... You sure? ... Aight.
[Orbit ends the call.]
Steve Orbit: Got you, fucker.
[Orbit starts the car, peeling tire as he exits the parking lot and speeds down the street.]
Havana Ginger: Who is it?
Steve Orbit: Rose said it's some young kid who just moved in from San Francisco, tryin' to pull power moves in Oakland-- tryin' to bring in dope, girls, whatever. Rose said he's makin' a lot of noise in the town. It's time to get gangsta up in this mother fucker. This is MY fuckin' town. This is MY 'hood. Don't nobody come up in my town and stick me up. It ain't goin' down like that.
[Havana pulls out the baggie of coke.]
Steve Orbit: Give me a bump of that shit.
[Havana pours some cocaine on the back of her hand, and reaches over to Orbit-- he sniffs it. They repeat this a few times, with Orbit looking more and more wild with each blast.
Finally, they reach their destination-- the black '66 Impala is on the lawn in front of the house. Orbit's jaw is clenched and his eyes are wide open and wild. He's breathing heavy. He and Havana do a couple more lines off the center console of his car and then exit the vehicle. Orbit tucks Havana's gun into his pants.]
Steve Orbit: Go around the back of the house. I'ma knock on the door. He must have heard us roll up.
[Havana gives an evil smile. She dashes around to the back of the house. Orbit sees a light inside the house from a side window. He creeps towards the window and peeks inside-- inside, we see a shirtless man with a heavily tattooed body and a bald head, wearing gray sweatpants. He is sitting on a sofa, smoking a blunt. Next to him is a heavy-set girl with a TV remote in her hand. Orbit is able to see the entire room from the window-- he sees his chain sitting on a side table, next to them.
Orbit walks around the house and meets Havana. They both have that crazy, coked up look.]
Steve Orbit: This is the mother fucker. I saw my link on the fuckin' table next to him. I'm goin' in.
Havana Ginger: Shit, I'm goin' too.
Steve Orbit: Aight. You take the bitch. I got the nigga.
Havana Ginger: No doubt.
Steve Orbit: Aight. It's goin' down like this. You bang on the back door, make a lot of noise. Distract them. And then I'm kickin' in the front door and goin' for my chain. If they wanna fight, we fight, fuck it.
Havana Ginger: Let's do it.
[Orbit walks around the house, towards the front. Havana starts banging on the back door and yelling, kicking the door and screaming.
In the front of the house, we see Orbit back up and kick the front door, shaking it, but not opening it. We hear a lot of commotion inside the house. Orbit kicks the door two more times and it unhinges. He pushes the door out of the way and enters the house.
In the back of the house, Havana has found a baseball bat. She cracks the heavy-set woman over the head with the bat and forces her way into the house. The man starts to back up-- he goes to reach into a nearby drawer, but Havana swings the bat at his arm. He draws his arm away so she misses-- he grabs the bat and pulls Havana closer, dropping her with a right hook.
Orbit approaches from behind, pointing the gun at the man.]
Steve Orbit: Get away from the girl.
[The man turns around. Seeing the pistol, he puts his hands up.]
Steve Orbit: Remember me?
[The man just smiles.]
Steve Orbit: I'm takin' my chain back. If you try and stop me, I'ma fuckin' blast you.
[Havana gets up from the floor, holding her chin, blood in her mouth.]
Havana Ginger: Fuckin' shoot him, Steve.
Steve Orbit: Chill, Havana. Go get my chain.
[Orbit motions to a room on the side. Havana goes into the room, as Orbit keeps the man at a safe distance with the gun pointed at him. After a moment, she comes back with the chain.]
Steve Orbit: This is MY town, mother fucker. You wanna make money in Oakland? That's fine, but don't knock no food off my plate. You better hope to God you never cross my fuckin' path again, you feel me?
Man: This ain't over. I'm gonna find you.
[Orbit releases the safety off the gun.]
Steve Orbit: No. You gonna forget this whole night ever happened and go about your mother fuckin' business, just like I'm gonna do. You don't want no part of me, homeboy. I'll burn this whole fuckin' house down.
Man: We'll see about that.
[Orbit and Havana start to move backwards towards the broken front door. The man stays still with his hands in the air, still smiling. When they reach the outside, the run to the car, slamming the doors as they enter. Orbit starts the car and backs out of the driveway, speeding away.]
Havana Ginger: You think he's gonna come after you?
Steve Orbit: Not unless he's fuckin' stupid. He knows who the fuck I am.
[There's a moment of silence, until Havana breaks out the bag of coke again and does another bump off the back of her hand.]
Havana Ginger: You think all that was worth it just for a chain? You could buy a hundred of those chains.
Steve Orbit: Not like this one.
[Orbit hands the chain to Havana.]
Steve Orbit: See that diamond?
[Havana holds it up to the light.]
Steve Orbit: There's this company called LifeGem. They make diamonds out of human ashes. That's my momma on that chain.
[Havana looks at the diamond in disbelief.]
Steve Orbit: I'd rather die than let somebody take that mother fucker away from me. You can believe that.
[Havana puts the chain back into Orbit's hand... and locks her fingers with his. She looks into his eyes as they speed down the street... thinking about the night they had. Fade out.]