S1E1: "The Price Of Freedom (pilot)"
Jul 11, 2013 7:19:15 GMT -5
Tim, CD's Old Account, and 5 more like this
Post by Cryogenix on Jul 11, 2013 7:19:15 GMT -5
[But first... a foreword to Cryogenix by Brian Bonhagen]
What you are about to read is the realization of a year-old dream.
During the DoT debacle, FPV and I found ourselves wishing to someday have our 'own team'... at first, this idea was just for the two of us to tag together. Quickly, though, we began to imagine something bigger... something more adventurous. Of course we did- it was me and Frank, you know? When we kick ideas around, shit gets weird quick. But these ideas, shoved in a corner of a Wordpad document last year, would not be forgotten... they would also not be touched for nine months.
When I returned from my hiatus (a break for which I still feel a need to apologize to this place for), I found Pantheon and Genesis stuck in neutral and the bad guys about to take over the show. I spoke with Twilight and Eric Price and they had a lot of good ideas for what to do on their end... it made me look in my old 'Ideas For After Pantheon' file, and the first idea that jumped out at me was for a covert-ops style crew with Frank and a few of our friends. Some of those friends were in Pantheon... some of those friends were in Genesis. I set about inquiring with these guys as to what the future held for them... no matter their answer, I let them in on my idea anyway. All of them signed on for it without question. I was pleased, but hesitant- would it actually work? Would WCF be 'down' with a six-man face stable that also has its own weekly action-comedy-drama spy series?
It took six guys two weeks' time to make this... but man, does it work.
What you are about to read, then, is the realization of a year-long dream made possible by the hard work and love of myself and five of the finest WCF has to offer. It's massive, sure... but it's worth it. It was all worth it. Please, read the shit out of this thing and enjoy it... we offer this document as proof that this is far more than just an e-fed. WCF is THE e-fed. Six dudes talking about wrestling? Any fed can do that. Six dudes making an action movie? Now you're playing with power. Within three months of getting here last year, I knew that the talent in this place could put out shit better than Hollywood does- we proved that with Breakout Kings of the Ring. But a team like this... with enemies as good as we have? And background characters and associates like we've got? And backstory like we all have? Oh, man- we could write a fuckin' series out of this.
And so we shall.
Ladies and gentlemen of WCF, we proudly present Cryogenix Episode 1. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed making it... and we hope you look forward to more of them as much as we do.
Sincerely,
Brian Bonhagen
Stand-up Comedian/Writer, City of New Orleans...
...and yes, the Polar Phantasm.
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[Backstage, after WCF's Blast - June 30th 2013. We see six men walk down a hallway together, exiting the stage area... by their celebratory expressions, we can assume they've just done something really awesome or important. High-fives and fist bumps fly back and forth amongst the group as they head into the depths of the confusing Japanese arena... suddenly two guys with smartphones as tape recorders approach the group.]
Podcaster: Hey, you guys are Cryogenix! That's awesome. I'm from the Internet! What do you have to say to the Internet and all of the Internet out there?
Phantasm: Did you just... Hi, Internet! We're Cryogenix, and-
Other Podcaster: Is there any truth to the rumors that you were or currently are involved in covert operations for the US government? The Internet wants to-
[Polar stifles a laugh.]
Phantasm: Me? A spy? ...us? Come on. That's just... ridiculous, really. Right, guys?
[The team all act surprised at the allegations with loud murmured and humorous responses; Polar tries - and fails - to supress a smile.]
[Cut to - long shot of Project: Antarctica, exterior... [Cryogenix Headquarters] [Project: Antarctica, Colorado] appears at the bottom of the screen as we view the vast landscape of - to the untrained eye - not much of anything. Eventually we cut to a hallway inside CGXHQ; we hear the music blaring from a room down the hall. Corey Black enters, walks down the hall and into a room marked 'STORAGE'. On a small sign under it: 'the Toolshed'. As he steps inside, a light goes on; as the room is illuminated, we can see that it lives up to its billing. One wall is completely covered in legit tools... claw hammers, a maul, a couple crowbars, a couple of big ass chisels, a nailgun... as we soak that all in, the camera slowly pans over to show the other side of the room, where Corey is headed. That's when we see a scottish claymore... a battle-axe... a massive warhammer with a needle-sharp point at one end... a broadsword. A god-damn broadsword! We see this 'who's who' of the midevil and feudal battlefield. Corey looks at this selection, but moves on... to a rack of feudal Japanese weapons. He grabs a katana, admiring it in its scabbard. He then considers a wakizashi carefully.]
[Cut to yet another hallway; this time, we're entering the living quarters. Jay Price sits at a bar, wearing a tuexdo... throwing daggers into a dartboard across the room while sipping at a rocks glass. We see the bottle of whiskey; there's no visible label and the bottle appears to be made of crystal. Then we see that he's grabbing the daggers out of a large metal ammo box chock full of them, and there are three more like it atop the bar. He finishes the contents of the glass with a slurp, tossing one more dagger and splitting the bullseye of the dartboard with a smash.]
[Cut to a dressing room; Steve Orbit comes out wearing a tailored suit. We see him look in a mirror, wink at his reflection... then, as he adjusts his collar, we see him stroll casually across a concrete hall and into a large closet. He walks over to a wall, grabs a cane - black with gold trim, but fairly simple-looking otherwise - from a rack of decidedly pimp canes. Orbit spins it around, admiring the sheen on the head of the blunt instrument as he leaves the room. The camera slowly pans across an ocean of walk in closet... hats, shoes, jewelry boxes, and a whole bunch of pimped out canes. Whoa boy.]
[Cut to Frank's lab, where the music appears to be coming from judging by the minor shaking we see in the hanging baskets that dangle above... we see the tremendous stereo system in Frank's lab, its speakers vibrating with the beat. We see Jeff Purse carefully counting grenades on a table, measuring the pile visibly before separating it into six even piles. Frank comes in and excitedly dumps a box full of grenades on the table; many of the grenades bounce off the table and go everywhere. Jeff just shakes his head in disgust as Frank scoops grenades off the floor.]
[Cut to Project: Antarctica's computer room; Polar stands before a desk staring at three displays. He's wearing a blue two-piece jogging outfit and has two shoulder holsters on. The camera pans around to show the displays; on one, a line from Denver to Reading is shown on a map with the legend 'Flight Plan Confirmed' blinking beneath it. The center screen has WCF Headquarters on it, the 'EPPW' flag flying above it. The third screen has a shot of a hangar, a jet inside ready and waiting. Polar heads out of the computer room and down a hallway, through a hatch and into the War Room... where we see the rest of the team gearing up. Corey throws his katana across his back and a stout hunting knife goes into his belt. Jay stashes a bunch of four-inch throwing daggers inside of his jacket, then fakes a cough with a flinch causing another dagger to jump out of his sleeve and into his hand. He offers it to Corey, who just shakes his head in exasperation. We see Steve Orbit showing off his cane to Jeff Purse... as he loads its handle with a single 12-gauge shell, we see that Orbit's cane is pretty pimp indeed. Purse and Orbit pick up their 'pieces' from the table (Jeff's piece an unusual looking scoped pistol, Steve's piece an unusual looking revolver) as we jump over to Frank, who loads a 9mm clip into his MP5. He then grabs a canvas bag with "OH SHIT, SON" written on it in large red letters and slings it over his shoulder. Polar walks over, holding two .45 pistols... he looks at them, shrugs and tosses them onto the table. He then pulls his custom .25 out of a holster at his ankle and admires it briefly, checking to make sure it's loaded. Frank looks at the small gun in Polar's hand and makes a sad face; Polar then picks up a Saiga-12 shotgun. Frank nods approvingly. Polar looks around at his team, prepared for war...]
Phantasm: Alright, Cryogenix... let's go. Next stop, Reading.
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spy (n). a person employed by a government to obtain secret information or intelligence about another, usually hostile, country, especially with reference to military or naval affairs.
2. a person who keeps close and secret watch on the actions and words of another or others.
3. a person who seeks to obtain confidential information about the activities, plans, methods, etc., of an organization or person, especially one who is employed by a competitor: an industrial spy.
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[Painted, simply, upon the screen in military-style stencil is the word 'CRYOGENIX'... beneath this, "1: The Price of Freedom".]
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[Scene: Project: Antarctica (unknown location, CO), also known as 'Cryogenix Headquarters'; more specifically, the 'War Room'. The room is fairly large; it is furnished pretty sparsely, save for nine chairs around a massive circular conference table with a holographic display in the middle (very similiar to- but not identical to- the table that once served as the Pantheon's conference table). The far wall has three large displays on it; by all appearances they look like large flatscreen televisions, but the control panel on the wall beside them would lead one to believe otherwise. We see five men sitting at the table, clustered somewhat toward the far end near the video displays... these five would need no introduction in the ring, as they are as big of names as professional wrestling has to boast. Before them, we see another man pacing as if awaiting something... as he turns, we see by the expression on his face that the waiting is killing him. It's been a long road to here for the Polar Phantasm, and by all appearances he seems to just want to get started. We see the faces of his 'troops', all anxiously awaiting what's next... all questioning what it is that will be. It looks like six grown men waiting on Santa Claus to arrive, as if they were a bunch of children and it were Christmas Eve. It also looks like a bunch of guys who know no matter what bowl of shit they are served, they will be made to eat it.]
Phantasm: I guess while we're waiting we might as well cover the lineup once more... you're all smart men, I'm sure you've gotten it down... but it never hurts to be prepared. Frizzell might quiz us. I don't want him to think I don't know what I'm doing here.
Purse: ...do we know what we're doing?
[Polar smiles.]
Phantasm: We will, bro. Might as well start with you, Jeff- as Cryogenix-2, your role is field lieutenant. Your most important job out there is to have my back when it comes to strategy... even if it means asking questions that might seem obvious, it's necessary. I'm pretty good at figuring out a solution to a problem, but all it takes is one fuck-up in my calculations to get us all killed.
Purse: Why me, though? You always said I was at my best when I thought with my heart instead of my head, right?
Phantasm: That's just the thing, though. The reason we've always made such a great team is precisely that... it's a street that goes both ways. I can break down things easily in my head, but sometimes the heart knows what the head doesn't.
[From across the table, the Mack chimes in.]
Orbit: Sometimes a hunch beats facts and figures.
Phantasm: Exactly. And if that's what's up- which it is- there's no one I'd rather have watching my back out there than Jeff Purse.
[Purse hangs his head a bit.]
Purse: Even after I let my heart trick me into thinking Twilight cared about me?
Phantasm: Bro- we all make mistakes. What makes us great is how we deal with them... how we learn from them. You, for instance, have likely learned the hard way that things are not always what they seem...
Purse: Bingo.
Phantasm: Ask yourself- was there ever a moment in there where you wondered if any of it was real? Did some little voice in your head cry foul at any point?
Purse: -well, maybe...
Phantasm: That, my good friend, was your conscience reminding you that if it's too good to be true, it's probably false. This team needs you to listen to that voice, man- it's our hotline to reality. Shit's gonna get weird out there, but we'll be fine so long as we remember who we are and why we're doing this. That's your other big job out there, Jeff- keep us grounded.
[Purse just shakes his head.]
Purse: Didn't work with the Pantheon...
Black: ...well you were off fuckin' with Twilight while we were running shit-
Purse: -well you guys turned into dicks on me!
Phantasm: Hey- Two, Three, cut it out. Not sure if you noticed or not, Jeff, but...
[The Phantasm gestures about the room quickly]
Phantasm: ...this isn't the Pantheon anymore. The stakes are higher now. And quite frankly, you don't have an option anymore. We're in this now, and that's not changing unless one of us is dead. And that won't happen if we stick to the plan... and the plan includes you keeping us grounded.
[The Phantasm smiles.]
Phantasm: Trust me. C-3...
Black: Yeah, man.
Phantasm: You know the drill, right?
Black: I'm the wetwork guy. No big deal. I got this.
Phantasm: Good deal. Frank-
[Corey Black interrupts with a simple question.]
Black: -question, though... when do we get some weapons? It's been like, three days down here and I still haven't seen one damn samurai sword. What kinda outfit is this, anyway? Frank gets grenades and a machine gun and we're supposed to throw suplexes out there?
Phantasm: That's getting handled today... or as soon as they can fill our order, anyway. Frank...
[FPV nods slightly.]
FPV: What's up, bro.
Phantasm: As Cryogenix-Four, your mission-
FPV: -oh yeah, I'm ready. C-4, demolition expert in the house.
[Polar smiles.]
Phantasm: Yeah, I had a feeling you were ready.
FPV: Dude, I've been ready since you got back. When do we get to blow something up, anyway?
Phantasm: Soon, bro. Soon. We might get our first mission today, for all I know. Hopefully we get a few days to get our supplies in order, but I'm prepared for anything... worst case scenario we just pop over to ASAWRO and raid their armory.
FPV: ...ok, now we're talkin'. You think they got any blasting caps over there? I got this idea-
Phantasm: We'll get a chance to ask them here briefly, soon as this motherfucker calls... Orbit! I know you're ready, man...
[The Mack laughs.]
Orbit: Hell yes. Cryogenix-Five... the man with the silver tongue. Shit, this is gonna be more fun than I ever had with my clothes on.
[The serious mood is demolished in two seconds by the candor (and optimism) of Steve Orbit. Polar breathes a sigh of relief between chuckles.]
Phantasm: Damn straight, C-5. Then we've got Mr. Price...
[Jay Price just shakes his head.]
Price: You're a weird mother fucker, Polar. But I think I like it.
Phantasm: That's a good thing, man. Welcome to the team, Cryogenix-Six...
Price: Number Six, huh?
Phantasm: Yes sir. As C-6, your main functions will be infiltration and acquisition. It's not an easy job, per se, but none of our jobs are 'easy'... you're gonna need to be good under pressure and go to some desperate lengths sometimes to get the job done, but it's nothing you can't manage.
Price: Aha! So you must know that I'm a master of disguise!
[Phantasm looks to Corey Black, who just shakes his head and laughs.]
Black: Oh man, we are so fucked.
Phantasm: Nah, we're good... I get the feeling that Jay will be better at this than even he thinks he'll be.
Black: I think that's impossible, man.
Price: Thanks for the vote of confidence, Polar. Fuck you, Corey.
Black: See, right now he's wearing his drunken douchebag disguise. It's perfect, right?
Orbit: So THIS is what Pantheon meetings were like...
FPV: ...at least they had meetings. You remember when we got all of Genesis together and went camping?
[The Mack thinks for a second, then responds]
Orbit: ...did I forget about that, or-
FPV: -nah, it never happened. Roy shot it down four times. Same thing with the road trip idea-
[Phantasm whistles loudly.]
Phantasm: We've probably got another minute or two here before the boss calls, then we've got business to get to. Before that happens, I'll say this- as Cryogenix Prime, it's my job to make sure we get the job done and all get home in one piece. It's my job to make sure we have what we need. It's my job to make sure we're as well prepared, well armed and well trained as we possibly can be. But that all said, as Cryogenix Prime... I am in charge here. That does not change. That WILL not change. In WCF, we might be subject to the whims of Seth Lerch or Eric Price or whothefuckever, but in this bunker or out there in the field what I say goes. I hate to have to be 'the boss'; it's a shit job and everyone hates you for it even when you do a good job at it. But I have no choice, and as such neither do you. This may be this team's base, but it's also my home... and I thank each of you from the bottom of my heart for signing up to be in this team, but to be frank here- if you're not going to do what I need done, you're not going to last very long here. If you're lucky you'll just be asked to leave. If you're unlucky, you'll be killed pulling some cowboy shit and I'll have to meet your family under awkward circumstances.
[As Polar speaks, we find our view wandering around the room... we see the faces of these five men to whom the Phantasm speaks. Five men who come from all over, united for the first time under one flag... the unlikely synthesis of two of WCF's great stables made possible by the pervasive influence of the man before them.]
Phantasm: You five men... you are not here on accident. I know you may think so, Price, but I don't- I've never put much stock in coincidence. In our line of work- both of them, actually- coincidence is much rarer than you'd think. Life doesn't work that way... not for us. Each of you has a purpose... each of you is an integral part of this team. We're not the Pantheon anymore... we're not Genesis anymore. We're something else. We're what WCF needs to liberate it from the clutches of the evil empire. We're EPPW's worst nightmare made flesh, friends- we're Cryogenix.
Black: Fuckin' right.
Orbit: So what's the timetable for takin' down EPPW?
Price: I vote for now. Are we voting?
Purse: Seconded.
FPV: Just let me get my hands on Eric Price, just for five minutes... that's all I'd need. I'm gonna shove a grenade down his scrawny little neck.
Phantasm: I admire the enthusiasm, Franky, as always... but we've gotta be smarter than that. They'll expect us to come at them, guns blazing- ok, well, maybe they won't expect the guns... but they're expecting us. Here in the present tense, they're holding all of the cards. I hate to say it, but that's a battle we can't win... not like we want to, anyway. We're the good guys, remember? If we stormed the fortress and killed the king and his court, we wouldn't rule the kingdom... we'd be arrested for murder.
[Polar's words sink in, quieting the room. A small beeping noise comes from the conference table.]
Phantasm: But I'll tell you this... no matter how shit looks in the short-term, it won't stay that way. A great general knows it's not how many battles you win, but victory in the war itself that matters... and though I might not be 'great' per se, I am indeed our general. I see this in the longview, and I know what this team is capable of... and knowing all of that, I don't need a calendar or a crystal ball to tell you what's coming.
[The Phantasm pushes a button on the table's control panel; the three big screens come on.]
Phantasm: The future is coming... and we will be its heroes.
[The left and right screens default to a pale blue background, a dark blue 'Cryogenix' logo emblazoned across the image's otherwise dull surface. The center screen, however, has a different logo on it... one of an eagle's eye floating above the earth. Beneath this logo in large print are the letters 'ASA'.]
Voice: Please stand by for Director Frizzell.
Phantasm: Gentlemen... meet our 'benefactor'.
[The center screen shifts to a view of an office we've seen before... it could be any office in the world, honestly, if it weren't for two things visible in the picture. One would be a 'window' which is actually a liquid crystal display... the other would be the nameplate on the desk reading 'Director Frizzell'. The man behind the desk does not wear a sign reading 'head spook', but you get the feeling just from looking at him that he sleeps well at night despite spending his days ordering assassinations at the behest of well-meaning elected officials. His hair is thin and grey... his face is lean and sullen. His glasses are worn and aged, though they may still be capable of seeing through walls or killing a man from 25 feet away- in the business this man is in, looks are almost always deceiving.]
Frizzell: Well, then. Cryogenix Prime... it has been too long. Today was the day we'd agreed upon- I would ask if you'd readied a team, but it looks like you're one step ahead of me.
Phantasm: Yes sir, that I am. Would you like to meet the team?
[The Phantasm gestures behind him to the assembled unit. Frizzell brusquely interrupts.]
Frizzell: No, I'm sure you vetted them well... am I correct in that assumption?
Phantasm: Yes sir- I trust these men with my life.
Frizzell: Well then- might I remind you that if it was solely your life at stake the United States Federal Government wouldn't give a rat's ass. My question would be as to whether or not you trust these men with the safety and security of our nation, Cryogenix Prime-
Phantasm: -and to that I can only state that I have not met finer men in my entire life, sir. I'd put this team up against anything the world might throw at us, sir... and we'd win.
Frizzell: Very well. The only remaining question would be just what it is you need to get started, then... have you had your men fill out any requisition forms?
[The Phantasm smiles.]
Phantasm: Yeah, about that...
[Polar reaches down onto the seat of one of the unoccupied chairs, retreiving what appears to be most of a ream of paper.]
Phantasm: ...we ran out of forms.
[Adjusting his glasses, Director Frizzell turns to a terminal at his desk.]
Frizzell: Why don't you give me the broad strokes of it now, then... anything you'd deem 'critical'.
[Flipping a few pages, the Phantasm whistles.]
Phantasm: You asked for it...
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[Two days later... we see the Cryogenix team assembled in what looks to be an airplane hangar. The massive ceiling of the hangar stands open to the elements... the room seems almost out of place in the underground facility when lit by the sun's light. To the rear of the group, the Phantasm just smiles... before him stands his team, eagerly guiding someone or something toward them. Two men in beige jumpsuits pull pallet jacks toward our heroes... as they enter the frame, we can slowly see the massive crate-laden pallets they drag behind them. Amidst pleased murmurings from the Cryogenix team we hear the pallets carefully released from their bondage... as the Phantasm steps forth to inspect a clipboard, handed to him by one of the 'delivery guys', we see FPV and Corey Black set to work on a large crate with a claw hammer and a crowbar.]
Phantasm: Mmmm... yeah, this looks pretty much in order. Wait-
Delivery Guy: There's another load of it in the truck. We'll be back in ten.
[The delivery guys drag their pallet jacks out of frame; we hear the low rattle of heavy equipment on the concrete bunker floor mix with the strained cry of a dozen heavy-duty nails.]
FPV: FUCKIN RIGHT!
[Corey shrugs and begins prying another crate open; Frank extracts a large block of plastic explosive from the first crate and holds it up as if it were a piece of the god damn Triforce.]
Purse: Look, dude- it's even got your name on it.
[Polar laughs as he sees what Jeff has pointed out; sure enough, the block of powerful explosive does indeed have 'C-4' stenciled on it in bold yellow lettering.]
Phantasm: Hey, Jeff- give me a hand with this one, will you?
[Polar picks up a smallish crate, about the size of a bread box. As Purse crosses to lend a hand, Price and Corey Black begin digging through what looks to be most of a knife show. The Future Elements manage to swiftly get the heavy-duty crate apart; inside are two boxes of ammunition and an interesting-looking revolver trapped in a translucent metallic case. Polar eyes the handgun, nodding slightly... he looks over to Steve Orbit, who is now reviewing the clipboard.]
Orbit: Man, this is unreal- who pays for all this, anyway?
Phantasm: Your tax dollars at work, my friend.
Purse: ...what kind of gun is this?
Phantasm: It's civilian equipment, actually- this one's Steve's. There- that one's all you, bro.
[Polar points to a slightly smaller crate; as Purse inspects the box, Orbit comes over to inspect the weapon in the Phantasm's hand.]
Orbit: Yeah?
[Polar hands the case to Orbit; the Mack pops the box open and extracts a beautiful compact revolver, gripping the weapon approvingly.]
Orbit: ...shit, that'll work.
Phantasm: Carbon steel and polymer grip, black on black in color. Short barrel and small hammer in the back so it draws easy... it won't snag on your outfit. Five-shot revolver, so you're not gonna take on an army with it... but it's plenty for close-quarters work.
Orbit: If I do my job right, I probably won't even need it.
Phantasm: True... but if you do need it, you've got it.
Orbit: What does this thing shoot, anyway?
Phantasm: Therein lies the genius of this particular piece... this particular model is graded for both .45 Long Colt bullets and .410 bore shotshells.
[From across the room, FPV dashes over awkwardly clutching four bricks of C4]
FPV: Wait, let me see that- dude, that thing is sweet. We were just talking custom shotgun ammo the other day.. you think any of that would work in Steve's piece?
Phantasm: Absolutely. If it'll load into a .410 shell, this thing'll fire it. Of course we've got some larger model shotguns around here somewhere... or we should, anyway.
[Polar turns to inspect the crates; the first thing he sees is Jeff Purse standing close to his right holding an open crate about the size of a VCR. C-2 is gazing into the box, almost as if he's unsure of what he's looking at.]
Phantasm: I figured you might be less inclined toward a 'lethal' piece, so I had the ASA guys send over something special for you.
[Purse reaches into the box and pulls out an unusually shaped scoped pistol. The barrel is fairly thin... the base of the weapon's grip appears to have an aerator attached.]
Purse: It looks like a gun to me.
Phantasm: Oh, it is... but it doesn't shoot bullets. What you're holding there is a prototype dartgun.
Purse: ...dart gun? Really?
Phantasm: Yeah, really. The darts are small, about the size of a .22 slug... but they're titanium, and the gun uses some sort of pressurized air release system to fling the shit out of the suckers. I'll get Iceberg-Seven to analyze the toxin they use, but whatever it is... the reports they sent me say it can knock out a 250 pound man for two hours at minimum, and that's just from one 'dose'.
Purse: Wow... suddenly I feel a lot more certain that we could win the Tag Titles.
[Laughing at his friend's joke (or what the Phantasm assumed to be a joke), we see Polar digging into the lip of a crate with a prybar. With a heave, the leader of this unit tears the top from a long wooden box and gazes inside with a tremendous smile.]
Phantasm: Oh yes. Gentlemen, I do believe that we are in business.
[Reaching into the box, Polar pulls out two wide barreled long guns]
Phantasm: Now THIS is the stuff, boys.
FPV: What are those, shotguns?
Orbit: Craziest lookin' shotguns I've ever seen.
[Polar looks to Purse, who just stares puzzled. The Phantasm stifles a laugh.]
Phantasm: Come on, guys- y'all were in Genesis. Don't you know a Saiga when you see one?
[The laugh unstifles itself. Purse just looks at his tag partner with a grin]
Purse: How long have you been waiting to use that one?
Phantasm: ALL DAY. Jesus, it was killing me.
[The sound of metal on metal from behind the Phantasm steals the group's attention... when the four men look to the source of the noise, they see Jay Price swinging a machete. At Corey Black. This would be cause for alarm if Corey wasn't smiling - an unusual sight indeed - while easily fending off the thick blade with what appears to be a katana. Strewn around them are an absolutely ridiculous number of knives... hanging out of one of the opened crates is a pocketed belt festooned with small hatchets.]
Phantasm: ...how's the cutlery, fellas?
Price: I'm not a machete fan so much, but this thing is ridiculously light.
Black: All of that and you didn't even scratch this bitch.
Price: Fuck you- I totally nicked it. No way it's-
Black: See for yourself.
[Corey holds up the katana to the light; it shines so brightly that the group has to shield their eyes from the glare.]
Black: ...I guess just take my word for it. What the hell did they make this sword out of, anyway? Uru? Vibranium?
Phantasm: Something like that, man. Feel a little better now that you got a sword?
Black: Yeah... I do. I don't know about you guys, but I feel like we're ready to get to work.
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[Suddenly, we cut back to the War Room two days before- Steve Orbit steps in front of the group and puts his palms up in the air.]
Orbit: Hold up, hold up-- we're forgetting somethin', y'all. Somethin' important.
[...a lot of head scratching and chin rubbing, until Phantasm shrugs at Orbit with a question mark written on his face. Orbit cracks a smile.]
Orbit: Clothes, man! Threads. We gonna need some outfits for all this, right? I like my shit tailored, personally, if y'all got a guy... or I could fly my guy in from Cali, he's real good.
[Polar nods with the rest of the group. He turns to the display screen, watching the unwavering sneer of Frizzell- it doesn't waver, as expected.]
Phantasm: I think I can speak for our 'boss' here... call your guy, brah.
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[We see an eighteen-wheeler backing up. It comes to a stop and Orbit jumps up onto the liftgate, sliding the door up. Inside, there are racks and racks of clothing-- everything is color coded in sections, from t-shirts and leisure suits to tuxedos. Beneath the racks is the shoe section-- rows of Jordans in every color combination, loafers, wingtips, flip-flops, dress shoes, you name it. Purse admires the color coordination from outside the truck.]
Purse: Is this everything?
[Orbit shakes his head and laughs.]
Orbit: Hell no, man-- this is my shit. Y'alls is comin' on the next truck.
[FPV and Polar Phantasm hop onto the truck with Orbit.]
FPV: Where are we gonna keep all this?
Phantasm: We might not have space in the bunker for... all this.
Orbit: It's cool, I figure we can just keep the trucks for now-- until we build somethin'.
[The truck driver walks onto the liftgate.]
Orbit: Thanks a lot, homie--
[Orbit pulls out a wad of cash and peels off two hundred dollar bills, handing them to the driver.]
Orbit: You done good.
Truck Driver: I gotta call a cab now, I guess- what's the address for this place?
[Polar and Purse shoot a quick glance towards Orbit. Orbit's eyes widen and his eyes dart back and forth, before he steps off the truck and pats the driver on the shoulder.]
Orbit: Tell you what, homie, I'll take you to the bus station. Wait 'til you see my Caddy, you ever rode in a '67 El Dorado before?
[Orbit walks away with the driver. Polar, Purse and FPV start looking through the clothes.]
Phantasm: Maybe we can rig something up... there's a ton of space down in the depths we're not using, but... hmm.
FPV: What you thinking?
Phantasm: I'm kicking myself for not having figured in Orbit's wardrobe. How much you want to bet he's got another truckload back in Oakland?
-----------------------------------
[As everyone is going through the threads that Orbit has had delivered, Jay Price is wandering around the living quarters looking a bit perplexed. Polar notices the look on his face and walks over to him.]
Phantasm: Looks like you got something on your mind, brah. What's up?
Price: All of this... it's a start.
Phantasm: A start? What are you talking about? We have everything we need, right?
Price: No, we're missing something...
[Polar looks around, trying to figure out what on Earth Price is seeing that he isn't.]
Price: Look, we're classy guys right? We wear nice clothes, we have meaningful conversations and we do the public a great service in the process, right?
[The rest of the group stops what they are doing as they look over at Price trying to figure out where he's going with this. Polar seems to be thinking the same thing when suddenly his face lights up in realization.]
Phantasm: I think I know exactly what you're getting at, Jay.
[Polar turns to the big screen]
Phantasm: Hey boss- how much wholesale liquor buying power does the ASA have? We're looking for an answer somewhere in the range of 'lots'.
-----------------------------------
Price: Aha! This is EXACTLY what I was talking about. Yes sir-
[The camera zooms in as Price reaches into a box and pulls out a bottle of twenty year old scotch.]
Price: Yes... this will do just nicely.
Orbit: You better not have ordered any of the cheap shit, Price.
Purse: Yeah, anything like that crap you tried to serve me at your tower and I'll beat you over the head with the bottle.
Price: Relax, guys... Dr. Price is in, and he's going to give you the perfect prescription after we get all of this sorted through.
[Price grabs a handcart and wheels the pallet of liquor over to the recently delivered and installed wet bar in the living quarters. As he sets about putting away the various bottles, Corey Black walks over to Polar.]
Black: Like I told you earlier... I have a bad feeling about this.
Phantasm: What, about Price? It's going to be okay, he's just excited... that's all.
[As Polar and Corey look on, Price pops open a bottle of champagne and begins drinking.]
Phantasm: ...I hope.
Black: Honestly, though... I'm just not sure he's cut out for this.
Phantasm: What, like you're somehow sure that the rest of us are?
Black: ...he's just got too much play in him... too much baggage, maybe. I don't know. I don't know that we can trust him. What d'you think?
[Price lowers the bottle from his lips and looks over to where Polar and Corey are watching.]
Price: My bad, you guys want some? It's fucking delicious.
[Black shakes his head to the negative; Polar can't help but smile.]
Phantasm: I think it's too late for us to be asking that question, dude.
[Black nods his head slightly in agreement, but still looks unsure as he turns and walks off. Polar watches Price for a few more seconds then walks off to do his own thing. Price shrugs his shoulders and then takes another long sip of champagne.]
Price: Who turns down Pol Roger? Bitches don't know what they're missing.
----------------------------------------
[Cut to down in the lab, where hunched over his little desk, FPV is busy constructing what appears to be bombs made out of...of all things...glowsticks. How those things are supposed to work is a mystery to probably everyone besides FPV himself. As he's absorbed into his work, into the lab comes Jeff Purse. Jeff comes to FPV and sits down on the table, looking to conversate with his new Cryogenix brother.]
Purse: Hey man, how's it hanging?
FPV: Same old same old...making bombs, bein' crazy with things...the usual.
Purse: Cool, cool. Look bro, I just came to talk about...
FPV: Sarah?
[Jeff is visibly surprised FPV managed to catch that.]
Purse: Yes, actually...
FPV: Look bro, I was just as betrayed by her as you were. I definitely feel you, bro. And we'll make it through this thing as a team bro. That bitch'll get her comeuppance soon bro, we just gotta be patient. But I do have to ask...did you guys ever...you know...fuck?
Purse: Well...a gentleman never kisses and tells.
FPV: Well its a good thing you aren't a gentleman. So?
Purse: No. We kissed. Thats it.
FPV: How was that?
Purse: Cold and unforgiving. Mostly.
FPV: Ha. That is what I would have thought it would have been like. But yeah man, don't worry bout it. That bitch is toast.
[Jeff gets up off the table, surprised at the amount of camaraderie coming from a man he once called his enemy.]
Purse: Wow, thanks man, that's actually pretty cool of you to say that.
FPV: Don't mention it.
Purse: Oh, and...I always thought you were the better of you and Roy Speede.
FPV: So did I my friend. So did I.
Purse: So...are we alright then?
FPV: You bet bro.
Purse: Thanks man...well...I will let you get back to work.
[The camera stays on FPV as Jeff walks off screen.]
FPV: I still think you're a boudle though.
[The camera cuts out just as we see a grenade being thrown in FPV's direction by Purse.]
-----------------------------------------------
[Bankston Hall... bedroom of the Unstable Elements. Polar enters the dark room, turning on a light with a quick pop of his hand against the wall. A low rumble from the bed encourages him to turn the light back off.]
Phantasm: Honey? Are you sick, or-
Nightmare: Sick of being in this bed... too tired to get up...
Phantasm: Come on... you know you're fine.
Nightmare: I am NOT fine- I'm fucking pregnant. What's so damn 'fine' about being swollen and nauseous all the fuckin' time?
Phantasm: Baby, you're pregnant with our child- that's a beautiful thing. Do you need me to sing 'Havin' My Baby' at you?
[We hear sheets rustle.]
Nightmare: I would stab you. Seriously.
[We hear Polar chuckle.]
Phantasm: THERE'S my girl. Come on- what's got you so upset?
[Quietly, Nightmare responds.]
Nightmare: I don't like being left out... left out of the team, left out of the ring... you know that. We're supposed to be team FIRST- man and wife, right? It should be me out there by your side instead of Jeff.
Phantasm: What's wrong with Jeff?
Nightmare: NOTHING, JESUS! I'm not- ugh, you're not LISTENING to me.
Phantasm: Baby, I'm listening to you as hard as I can. It just sounds like you're upset you can't be in combat while you're pregnant...
Nightmare: ...it's bullshit!
Phantasm: It's for the baby. After all the shit I went through to get you and the baby clear of the ASA-
Nightmare: -I know, I know...
Phantasm: -should've known you'd want back in anyway. That makes me a damn fool.
[He sits at the edge of the bed; she slides up to embrace him.]
Nightmare: That makes you MY fool, baby. You knew it'd be hard dealing with me... probably more than I did. I love this baby and I love you too, but...
Phantasm: ...you spend at least half of your time just wanting it out of you so you can go back to stabbing people for fun and profit.
Nightmare: Mmmhmm.
[As she cuddles with her husband, Nightmare mumbles happily.]
Nightmare: I just miss the bloodshed sometimes, baby.
[...A klaxon sounds from an intercom somewhere in the room... it is followed by the voice of Iceberg-Seven, which shakes Polar and Nightmare out of their awkward moment.]
Iceberg-Seven: Attention - there is a situation at location 'WCF Headquarters'. Attention-
[As the message repeats, Polar looks to his bride... in the pale light of the dim security lamp on the wall, we can see her face twist into depression and resignation.]
Nightmare: Go- your team needs you.
[He stands and approaches the door.]
Phantasm: So do you, baby... and vice versa. Tell you what: I'll be back in one piece, and I'll even bring you back a present.
[She pulls the covers over her head, mumbling.]
Nightmare: Whatever.
--------------------------------------------
[About twenty minutes later, we find ourselves in the Cryogenix Headquarters 'War Room' once more. The Phantasm stands before the massive video screens as the other five members of the team sit around the conference table looking at a holographic representation of WCF Headquarters in Oley, PA. On the screens, we can see a number of gold title belts and a large silver trophy.... we can also see what appears to be a stock footage clip of people going in and out of WCF HQ's lobby.]
Phantasm: Alright guys... looks like we've got us a mission. This one's not official, of course, as the ASA hasn't handed it down... but we're taking it anyway. We could use a warm-up... and I seriously doubt Eric Price has anything lined up as a defense mechanism for a case like this.
Purse: What's up, man? Somebody busted into WCF HQ?
Phantasm: Precisely that, C-2.
Orbit: So what'd they get? Files, cash?
Price: They stole Eric Price's collection of women's underwear, and we've got to get it back before the media finds out!
[The team shares a laugh; Polar shakes his head.]
Phantasm: If only it were that simple... or hilarious. No, from all appearances it looks like someone or someones got into the building past security and then breached the vault. Contents of the vault that are now missing? All of the original or retired WCF title belts... and the Trios Cup trophy. Now, you guys have probably heard - or maybe even started - the rumors about the Trios Cup being cursed. After last year, when Trios Cup winner Chad Evans disappeared... and this year, when Trios got cancelled after the disappearance of Morientes... well, a lot of people are starting to attribute the trophy itself with a 'curse'. Personally, I think that it's a load of bullshit- Crystal and I ate tapioca pudding out of that motherfucker on our honeymoon last year and nothing happened to us...
[Purse clears his throat loudly.]
Phantasm: ...ok, well... even then, I still think the 'curse' nonsense is straight bullshit.
Price: Wait... all of the old belts? All of them?
Phantasm: Apparently so, Six.
Price: Those bastards.
[Corey Black looks at Price with a deadpan stare. Price looks to him and continues]
Price: ...my Elite Title belt was in there!
Black: Poor you. Polar- uh, Prime, I mean- does this thing have the blueprints for HQ?
[Polar smiles.]
Phantasm: Ask it.
[Corey Black makes a face, then speaks deliberately off into the air.]
Black: Eye-Seven, do you have the blueprints for WCF Headquarters?
Iceberg-Seven: Yes, user 'Corey Black'. I have downloaded digital copies from the Office of-
Phantasm: You've gotta be specific when you talk to the computer, man-
Black: Right, right. Eye-Seven, bring up the blueprints please.
[Quickly, the holographic image of WCF HQ becomes a three-dimensional cutaway of the building's floorplan.]
Phantasm: -polite is nice, too. I like that.
Black: Check it out, Prime- this should be a quick trip. We send two in the front, two in the back... Six and I get up to the roof and we can come in through the windows like a god-damn SWAT team. We'll have all the angles covered.
Phantasm: I see where you're going there, and I like it- two problems, though. First of all, we don't have any eyes inside or outside the building... we don't even know that the criminals are still in Oley, much less in the building. This happened about an hour ago; we only know because Eye-Seven detected an alarm in the vault. All the cameras appear to be down... at least I can't get into them.
Black: Yeah? Well, what's the other problem?
Phantasm: Technically, you and Six quit WCF when Eric Price took over, right? So if he or his ilk see you on the grounds of HQ he might have you arrested.
[Price and Black both scoff at the comment.]
Black: Shit, he can try-
Price: -yeah, that's what I'm sayin'.
Phantasm: Price and them are one thing, but the cops are another- we're on their side, whether they know it or not, and I intend to keep us that way. If you do get 'arrested', let me handle it- I can make a phone call and the DOJ will take care of it in a big way. Provided you don't do anything that will preclude that... read me?
Price: Right.
Black: No big deal- I've had worse than a couple hours in a holding cell.
Orbit: What I'm thinking- if you don't mind, Prime-
Phantasm: Go 'head, Five.
Orbit: If we made enough noise, I'm talkin... like, full-on party outside or something, me and Two could sneak in through the back door over there and get up into the offices, no sweat. I been up there a buncha times, it'd take us like two minutes tops.
Purse: I'm liking this plan... if all the security is outside, we're in and out before anybody gets a chance to fire us or shoot us or whatever.
Phantasm: I'm liking it, too. Three, Six... can you guys muster us a distraction? Something big and loud and stupid...
FPV: Like a protest?
[Polar snaps his fingers and points to Frank]
Phantasm: YES. YES! Protest, perfect! That should be super-easy to set up, too- Eric Price is probably against so many things bleeding-heart liberal groups support that you could just call the Democratic Party's main office and act like we're at a high threat level until they send in the tree-hugging armies.
Black: And then...?
Phantasm: Then you and Jay work the protest as if you were hippies. Blend in with your surroundings and wait for any targets to escape the building... keep your eyes on security and use comms to let us know what's going on out there.
Black: Right. So we're lookouts, then.
Price: Shit- I thought this would be fun.
Phantasm: Trust me- when we find out where those belts are, you guys will get to have 'fun'. You two are our aces in the hole when it comes to 'painful extractions'. Frank and I will also be outside on lookout, but we're gonna scout around the back for clues... Four, you down for a little hide and seek?
FPV: Shit yeah, Prime-bro.
[Polar whips a key-shaped USB drive out of his pocket and tosses it to Jeff Purse.]
Phantasm: That's a 64 gig stick; it's pre-loaded with some of Iceberg-Seven's software. If you can get that thing into any of the computers on the network, it'll download us the surveillance video and anything else we need from the machines in there... plus I've got a little backdoor bug Eye-Seven whipped up for us on there. Soon as you load the drive it'll give us access to the WCF mainframe... whatever they know, we'll know. Whatever they see, we'll see.
Orbit: Now that's what I'm talkin' about.
Purse: So we'll finally know what Eric Price is up to?
Phantasm: That's the plan, man. Soon as you get it in the system we'll know who took the belts... Eye-Seven and I got our comms units Bluetooth-enabled this week, so we'll all have access to the data as soon as it does. Extra added bonus there would be we'd also have jury-rigged control of the systems so long as we're within range of the facility.
Price: Oh, man... can you turn on the sprinklers in Other Price's office?
Phantasm: No, Six...
[Polar gives a stern look as he puts a hand on Jay Price's shoulder.]
Phantasm: ...we all can. We all can.
[Polar smiles; Corey Black laughs mightily.]
Black: I fuckin' love this team.
Phantasm: Alright, team- everybody up and at 'em. Last check of our gear before wheels up-
Orbit: -yeah? We takin' my jet?
[Frank and Polar both laugh.]
Phantasm: Well... uh...
FPV: ...it's kinda our jet now, but...
Orbit: ...What did y'all do to my baby?
[Polar turns to the viewscreens.]
Phantasm: Eye-Seven- give us all three cameras in the hangar.
[The viewscreens change to three angles' view of a private jet... though we've no concept of what it once looked like, we can assume that it did not have as many moving parts.]
Orbit: ...my baby- y'all went and turned her into a god-damn war machine!
Phantasm: ...impressed?
[Orbit wipes a tear from his eye.]
Orbit: -I gotta say, man... yeah. Fuck if y'all ain't pimped my ride.
Phantasm: Four- give the man the run-down.
[Doing his best Xzibit impression, Frank Venable points to the video screens and begins running down specifications.]
FPV: Say dogg; we heard you liked it when bitches go fast... so we replaced your stock engines with supersonic military-grade jets.
Phantasm: And we also had the ASA people add some thrusters... stolen right off of a Harrier. Now this bitch can lift off from a dead stop or even hover in mid-air.
FPV: Oh, and bro- don't skip the best part. You see these things right here under the wing?
Orbit: -yeah?
FPV: Sidewinder missiles, straight off of an F-14 Tomcat.
Phantasm: Actually, I was going to say that the best part is we've added a hybridized engine- this thing runs on rocket fuel at high speeds, but cruising or hovering it'll burn diesel... or biodiesel, even, if we can't find a reliable place to pump gas.
Orbit: Not a lot of truck stops have a 'jet refueling' area out back.
Phantasm: That's cool, too- we also took the battery and drive system out of a hybrid Urban Assault Vehicle the DOJ's prototyped... we can't fly with that alone, but we can at least run all the internals off of the batteries and the motion of the jet will keep the battery charged.
Orbit: ...damn, y'all- guess I'm gonna have to give this bitch a name, now!
[FPV reaches into a canvas sack marked "OH SHIT, SON!" in bright red stenciled letters. He hands a kid's plastic pail to Orbit, who looks inside speculatively.]
Orbit: Shotgun shells?
FPV: Haven't had a chance to test them out yet, but there's a couple flavors of death in there Polar and I worked out this week. Since that revolver you got can shoot .410 bore along with the .45LC ammo, I started working on stuffing some fun stuff into .410 shells. We'd already loaded up a few 12-gauges, and they worked fine... you should see the shooting range we made up downstairs. Some of the targets have holes in them...some of them are straight up melted to shit.
[Orbit holds up a green-colored shell and shakes it a bit, hearing a rattle. Frank grabs his hand with an 'oh no' stretched silently on his face.]
FPV: You don't want to make those angry. Not the green ones.
[Frank reaches into the pail and pulls out a white-colored shell]
FPV: The green ones are full of little plastic bubbles... bath beads, almost. There's two different kinds of chemicals in there- on impact with whatever your target it, the two mix and react... violently.
Orbit: What, like an explosion?
FPV: Actually, more like a full-on meltdown.
Phantasm: Half of the 'beads' contain sodium perchloride, half of them contain a dilution of hydrochloric acid. When the two mix, they form a lovely little caustic compound somewhere toward the 'oh fuck' end of the pH scale that science calls perchloric acid.
FPV: We just call it 'face-melting awesomeness.'
Orbit: ...fuck, y'all weren't kidding- now I'm scared to even touch these mother fuckers.
FPV: Meh, hydrochloric acid ain't shit, really. It's corrosive, but you can neutralize it with baking soda even. Considering that, the two chemicals are mostly safe... unless you mix them... and stick your hand in them.
Phantasm: Or drink them.
FPV: Or use them as lube. You know- anything that involves skin or organs you're looking to keep. The beads should keep everything contained until you fire the shot... just make sure you don't take any of it in the eyes, right? Speaking of your eyes- the white ones are my own variation on the 'confetti' shotshell mixed with the old school 'flashbang' grenade. They're full of black powder, magnesium filaments and white phosphorous powder. I call 'em 'flashbooms'... they're pretty loud, but they're STUPID bright. You'd rather be looking at the sun than the end of that gun when you fire these fuckers. I'm working on a variation for my piece, but... it's hard to shove anything but powder into these little nine-mike-mikes.
[As Frank fills Orbit in on the contents of his new shotgun shells, the Phantasm steps over to Jeff Purse who is busily loading and unloading his new 'gun'.]
Phantasm: You like the new piece?
Purse: ...I love it, man. I mean, I'm not gun people... never have been. We've got a couple shotguns on the farm, so I've shot some... but it's never been something I really looked forward to, you know? Having to shoot someone just kinda seems like cheating to me.
[From behind them, Corey Black pipes up.]
Black: Fuckin' right. We're fighters- warriors. Why the fuck would I need a gun? There's no honor in that. Not when I could use one of these.
[Corey pulls a gleaming katana from its scabbard at his back.]
Black: This is a gentleman's weapon.
Phantasm: Well, ninja were also known to use katana... and they were far from gentlemen, bro.
Black: ...stop stepping on the point I'm trying to make here. Jeff doesn't need a gun if he doesn't want one. I got plenty of swords and axes and shit, dude- take your pick.
[Jeff picks up the scoped dart-pistol, looking at it with admiration.]
Purse: I don't know, Creeps- I'm sittin' here staring at this fine piece of spy tech that our government has entrusted me to field test for them... and that's making me think maybe I'll stick with what I got.
[Jay Price comes over with a metal ammo box full of throwing daggers.]
Price: Get 'em while they're hot, boys!
[He picks up a handful of the stainless steel blades, spinning three of them (by their ringed ends) at a time around his pointer finger.]
Black: Stop fuckin' around with my kunai, man.
Price: Hey- they're OUR kunai! How many you want?
Black: I'm good with these.
[Corey sheaths his katana, then pulls a vicious hunting knife from a concealed sheath at his belt.]
Phantasm: Six- you want a pistol or anything?
Price: Nah, I'm way better with these than a gun.
[Jay Price shoves a handful of the daggers into a pocket on the inside of his tuxedo jacket.]
Phantasm: You two might want to bring some spare outfits, too... just in case 'heavy metal t-shirt and jeans' and 'full tuxedo' stick out in a crowd of protesters.
Orbit: Oh, them two are gonna stick out like tweakin' mofuckas in church. Come on, we'll scare y'all up some neutral disguises-
Price: -disguises, eh?
[Jay Price begins rubbing at a beard he does not have.]
Black: I've probably got something.
Price: To the disguise room!
[Before three of the team could head off, Polar stops them by raising a hand.]
Phantasm: We're almost done. Frank- you got the glowstick grenades?
[FPV holds up the 'OH SHIT SON!' sack and nods excitedly.]
FPV: Yep, and I got about six clips too just in case shit gets woolly out there.
Phantasm: And I got Betsy... and I think I'll bring one of those shotguns, maybe. Now that we've gotten armaments out of the way- two more things we'll all need. First of all- these.
[Polar reaches into a pocket and withdraws five wallet-shaped objects. He flips them around the room to his team; they open them and stare in disbelief.]
Phantasm: Keep those on you at all times, but be discreet with those- we don't want anyone seeing them unless they have to. 'Need to know basis' is the term-
Price: ...'license to kill'. Holy shit... this is the happiest moment of my life.
Phantasm: Licensed to kill- but not licensed to be a jackass. Those IDs are issued by the DOJ to prove that we're official with Uncle Sam; that said, our position is as COVERT operatives. You read? Put those someplace safe for when you need them, but to almost everyone we encounter out there we're just six pro wrestlers... or better than that, just six random dudes.
Black: Still- I kinda want to post this on Facebook or something.
FPV: I know, right?! Shit, my high school girlfriend would die. Bitch talks about how she married a doctor- bitch, you married a proctologist! You could've had agent double-oh-boudlekiller... but NOOooooOOooo, you had to-
[Phantasm whistles piercingly. All of the others stop and look to him, some more angrily than others.]
Phantasm: ...and one last thing- those wristbands you're wearing, the ones that look like watches. They're watches, sure... but they also keep track of your position, your vitals, your mood even. They're our physical and digital link to each other and Iceberg-Seven; don't ever take them off, and try like hell to keep them from getting busted out there. If you've got a question, Eye-Seven will answer it... if you need computer assistance, it's there for you. If you need translations, Eye-Seven's got you covered. Also, it's most useful for keeping track of our positions in the field as well as quiet communication... if you press the 'light' button at the bottom of the right side, you'll notice a small keypad comes out of the 'watch'. If you can't speak, text. There's no excuse for going without contact, boys- we've got all the tools in the world to keep in touch out there. Worst case, we've got our cellphones. Any questions?
[Before anyone can raise any questions, Polar continues.]
Phantasm: Good. Handle any last-minute packing you have to do; we'll be gone for less than a day, most likely, but bringing nightclothes would be wise just in case we get waylaid somehow. Meet me in the hangar when you're finished - wheels up in fifteen minutes, Cryogenix!
[As the Phantasm leaves the room, grabbing a Saiga-12 shotgun as he passes a table covered in guns, he turns a corner and heads out of sight... then out of earshot.]
Orbit: Does he know how to fly my plane?
[The others shrug.]
Purse: Wouldn't put it past him.
-----------------------------------------------------
[The team lands in Reading, PA under the guise of night. All six exit the plane, and by order of Polar Phantasm, split up into three pairs; Steve Orbit and Jeff Purse, Corey Black and Jay Price, Polar himself and FPV. A few hand signals later and the three sets are off in rental cars provided at the runway. It's as if this was a coordinated plan. We stick with Price and Black, Jay driving, Corey in the passenger seat admiring some knives.]
Price: Infiltration, eh? Where does Phantasm get this intel?
Black: I don't really know, but I'm sure glad he did. What are the chances there's a protest in front of the building when we need to be in there?
Price: It's good for us, but bad for whoever we're looking for. If they're in that building, they're gonna be trapped like rats...
Black: ...we can kill rats.
Price: Dude, I'm pretty sure with these IDs Polar got us we can shoot white rhinos with bazookas if we want.
[Jay pulls into a parking lot across the street from WCF HQ, while the rest of the team continue on out of view. Corey places a few daggers and knives in strategic places, hiding them from view. The two men exit their vehicle and head straight to the trunk, where they put on prosthetics to hide their identities. We see FPV and Polar pull around behind the building; Orbit and Purse pull in beside them. Polar and Purse exchange a nod.]
Phantasm: Alright team- progress report.
Purse: C-2... on the scene.
[Back across the compound, we see Corey Black wearing a curly fake goatee.]
Black: C-3. I don't like this plan, suddenly.
Phantasm: You can do this, C-3.
FPV: C-4, entering the bush.
[We cut back to Polar and Franky; FPV is climbing into a hedge. Polar stifles a laugh.]
Orbit: C-5... and a rear entry is imminent.
[We cut to Orbit and Purse; they're walking without any hurry toward the back door of the compound.]
Price: C-6... hippies. It had to be hippies.
[We cut back to Black and Price... they are standing inside a large crowd of hippies and trendy activists, most of whom are wearing 'PETA' shirts.]
Phantasm: If you two make any friends... check them for crab lice first. That's an order. Prime out.
[With a deep breath, the Phantasm dashes to catch up with FPV. He dives into the hedge as if it were an opponent, crashing through branches as he does.]
---------------------------------------------
[Steve Orbit and Jeff Purse are approaching WCF HQ. The crowd and commotion surrounding the front of the building has allowed them to reach the rear of the building undetected.]
Purse: All these years I've worked here, I don't think I've ever seen the back of the building.
Orbit: I been back here like a million times. Come on--
[Orbit and Purse position themselves with their backs to the building.]
Purse: Ok... we're here. Now what? How are we gonna get in? Is there a window or someth--
Orbit: Even better. There's a back door, and the lock is busted on it. I don't even think Eric knows about it yet.
Purse: How did you find out about it?
[Orbit smiles.]
Orbit: Man, entering back doors is my specialty. I used to bring groupie bitches in through here all the time-- bitches love the back door.
[Purse tries to contain his laughter.]
Orbit: What?
Purse: Nothing, man, let's go.
Orbit: I'm tellin' you man, I got so much ass off the, "yeah, let me give you a tour of the headquarters" line.
[Purse follows Orbit towards the door.]
Purse: It's just... I'm more of a front door guy, personally.
Orbit: Well, shit-- don't knock it 'til you try it, homie.
[They reach the door. To Purse's surprise, he pulls the handle and it swings open. Orbit smiles, Purse nods and they head inside.]
------------------------------------------------
[Inside, Jeff and Steve Orbit are running through the halls of WCF HQ. They stop at a poster of Sarah Twilight, and Jeff pulls it off the wall. Orbit laughs sarcastically.]
Orbit: You taking that with you for later, homie?
Purse: ...I need something to piss on later.
[Orbit makes a 'damn!' face- you know the one]
Orbit: Oh... aight.
[They continue running through the halls. Scene cuts to Jay Price and Corey Black outside, standing within the protest. Corey looks pissed off about being there, Jay Price is checking out the woman standing in front of them.]
Price: These protest ladies are fucking hot, man.
Black: Is that all you think about?
Price: FUCKING A! Dude, I can see like... five visible thongs, right now. Six- wait, that's a dude. Still kinda counts, though-
[Corey gives Price a deadpan stare.]
Price: What? Shit- I don't even care that there's a dude wearing a thong out here. There is that much hot girl ass. I'm digging this ratio, man...
Black: Crab lice, Six. Crab lice.
[Almost instinctively, Jay Price scratches himself a bit. The protest leader taps the mic, getting ready to make an announcement.]
Protest Leader: Ladies and gentlemen, I have to say that I am APPALLED at the BULL HOOKEYS this... EPPW has shown us in the last few weeks! They have been using animals like they were some kind of…
[Someone in the crowd gives an assist]
Crowd Member: Animals?
Protest Leader: ANIMALS… and this one in particular has been especially abused! He has been fed nothing but popcorn and booze for the last week...!
Camel: HUMP DAYYYYY!
Protest Leader: I ask you, America- WHERE IS THE OUTRAGE?!
[Jay Price taps Corey Black's chest with authority- Black slaps him on the back of the head.]
Black: Don't touch me, man-
Price: Look, dude- that's my camel!
Black: No it's not-
Price: No, dude- THAT’S MY FUCKING CAMEL!! HEY!
Black: ...I want to give everyone here a burning hammer. This is worse than Woodstock '98...
Price: THEY STOLE MY CAMEL!!
Black: Ugh.
[Cut to Franky and Polar walking around outside dusting for fingerprints. Why? Because mother fuckers are looking for clues, that’s why! You better ask somebody...]
Phantasm: Fuck man, why does finding clues have to be so dirty... Oh shit.
FPV: What?
[Frank looks to Polar- he's been stunned by something.]
Phantasm: I'm turning into Jeff.
FPV: Ha... well, you aren’t a boudle like him... so there's that.
Phantasm: Jeff isn’t a boudle! Jeff's- god, I can't believe we're having THIS discussion.
FPV: Yeah… hey look at this!
[Frank rushes over, picking up something from the ground.]
Polar: What is that?
FPV: It’s a… piece of bacon. Do you think its important?
Polar: I don’t know man. Better bag that shit though.
FPV: Ok. Man its…awkwardly big. Alright... I put it in this bag...
Phantasm (muttered): That’s what she said.
FPV: Did you just- yeah. You are more and more like Jeff everyday.
Phantasm: Dude, shut up. It's creepin' me out...
[They bag up the bacon and we cut back to Jeff and Steve inside the building. They come across a door marked “DON’T FUCKING ENTER—SECURITY”. They shrug and try to enter. Locked. Steve takes out a small, diamond encrusted lockpick and easily opens the door. Jeff gives him a small round of applause. Security monitors line the walls inside, no security guards though. Oh well. As Jeff inserts the key-shaped USB drive, the computer spins up and begins running Iceberg-Seven's programs. As for Jeff and Steve, they begin watching the security tapes.]
Purse: I wish Jay Price was here right now.
Orbit: What? I ain’t good enough company?
Purse: No, its not that. He just always has popcorn on him. And we might be here for a while.
Orbit: Oh. Yeah. That would be good.
[Cut to Price and Black outside at the protest.]
Protest Leader: And the superstar they have…Honey Baked Hamilton. He is comprised of dead pig!!!
Crowd Member: That's an Internet rumor-
Protest Leader: YOU STAY OUT OF THIS!
Black: He isn’t a superstar... maybe a jobber. I've never fuckin' heard of him.
Price: I thought you knew- he's that new jobber that smells like honey ham.
Black: You been hangin' with your jobber friends again, Price?
Price: Hey- I'm not a jobber! YOU'RE a jobber.
[Corey Black gets loud, suddenly]
Black: What did you just call me?!
[They notice everyone is looking at them.]
Protest Leader: Excuse me gentlemen... do you have something you want to add to this protest?
Price: Yeah you animal humping fuck, that’s my camel!
Protest Leader: Excuse me sir!? You are the one who has treated this camel so poorly?
Camel: YEAHHHHH! JAY... JAY JAY JAY JAY JAY WHAT DAY IS IT, HUH?!
Price: I hate that fucking camel.
Black: Looks like I get the chance to fuck up some protest jobbers...
[Why? Because all the protesters have turned toward Jay and Corey now…and they look pretty pissed off. Jay and Corey nod at each other, cracking their knuckles. Cut to FPV and Polar outside the building, still dusting and looking for clues.]
FPV: So I was like, fuck you Speedle. And he started to cry.
Phantasm: Oh, is that how that went?
FPV: Yeah, at least that’s how I remember it.
Phantasm: DUDE, LOOK!
FPV: What is that?
Phantasm: It’s a gang handkerchief. I don’t know what a gang would be doing around here, though. Better bag it. But do it slowly…we don’t want to ruin it.
FPV: That’s what she said.
[Phantasm smiles as Franky bags the handkerchief. Meanwhile, in the security room…]
Purse: Dude, look.
[Orbit looks and sees what Jeff is pointing at... two WCF Jobbers, Honey “Baked” Hamilton and Cryboy McEmo, open the back door and let a group of local gang members into WCF HQ after hours. Much as Orbit and Purse had done moments before, they just opened the door and let them in.]
Purse: Why is it so easy to get into this building!?!?
Orbit: Man, why is it so easy to get into yo momma?
Purse: Really, a "your mom" joke? Now? Come on, Steve. Radio the guys, tell them whats up.
Orbit: Haha, alright man, calm down. Shit, you never play the Dozens?
[Purse just stares.]
Orbit: Yo, Three, you there?
[Cut to Corey Black and Jay Price. The protesters are all sprawled out around them, laying in defeat and agony. Corey picks up his radio.]
Black: Yeah man, whats up? Uh huh…yeah. Oh yeah. Alright, we've got this... see you whenever you catch up to us. Six-
Price: What?
Black: Some local wanna-bes, the Local Gangsters. They broke in, got some jobbers to get 'em past security.
Price: What's the name of the local gang?
Black: I just fucking told you, The Local Gangsters!
Price: Oh…well. Well then. I'm going to radio Prime about these 'Local Gangsters', then.
Black: Alright.
Price: ...you're serious?
Black: Fuck, just call Polar already!
[Cut to Polar and Franky. Polar is on the radio with Price, Franky is on the radio with Orbit. They look at each other and say, at the same time…]
FPV/Phantasm: The Local Gangsters?
[Polar's 'watch' beeps an alert. Iceberg-Seven's voice rings out.]
Iceberg-Seven: Located probable headquarters of 'Local Gangsters' within a .3 square mile radius. GPS coordinates to follow.
FPV: Oh man- if what Three and Six did to those PETA fools is any indication, those Local Gangsters guys are fucked.
[Polar breaks into a dash]
Phantasm: Shit, we better hurry- this might be a bloodbath!
[Frank chases]
FPV: Hey, wait up- I got the keys, remember?!
-----------------------------------
[Cut to inside a small building. This small structure been populated by what appears to be a gang of criminals, all dressed in black turtlenecks, ski-mask and cargo pants. Some of the men are carrying large duffel bags containing unknown items. Among these men, two stick out. One of them, notably more scrawny then the others, has visible mascara around his eyes, some of which has gotten onto his ski-mask. He is panting heavily, as if he had just run a marathon across the entire Mexican border. The other gentleman is much more muscular than his tiny companion, however, he has foregone wearing the turtleneck the others are wearing. In fact, he's foregone wearing a shirt at all, exposing his massive amounts of chest hair. He too is panting, also less so then his partner. Between heavy breaths, the tiny man speaks.]
Tiny: What...the fuck...did we just do?
Big Guy: What do you mean?
[In a fit of passion, the tiny one rips off his ski-mask, showing that he is legendary WCF jobber Cryboy McEmo. He starts tearing up, his tears messing up the heavy amount of black eyeliner he has on.]
Cryboy: WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WE JUST FUCKING...god...WE JUST FUCKING BROKE INTO THE PLACE.
[The other man removes his ski-mask to reveal that he is Honey "Baked" Hamilton, another well known jobber. He seems to have removed his mask more because it was starting to get hot, as he is sweating profusely.]
Hamilton: Of course, that was the plan you idiot!
Cryboy: BUT WAS IT REALLY NECESSARY TO SHOOT OUT THOSE CAMERAS?! OR TO BLOW THE FUCKING VAULT WITH DYNAMITE?!
Hamilton: Now I admit that we might've gone overboard a little bit...
[One of the criminals overhears this and gets indignant on the two jobbers.]
Criminal: Hey motherfucker, that's life! Deal with it.
Hamilton: Did I ask you, jackass? Just give us the bags and we'll be out of here.
Criminal: What if I don't want to? What if I want to keep all this golden junk for myself? Could make a couple thousand dollars off this stuff.
[Instinctively, Hamilton cracks his knuckles, ready for a fight. However, as he approaches the bags, all of the other criminals pull out their guns, pointing directly at him. In between sobs, Cryboy manages to squeak out something audible.]
Cryboy: Let's just go, it's not worth it.
[Thinking quickly, Hamilton grabs Cryboy by the wrist and runs out the building with him in tow... they get about forty feet outside of the building before the enter the treeline. As their pace slows slightly, the two jobbers celebrate slightly... only to be met with a pair of hard punches to the face.]
Cryboy: UUuhhhhh-
[Cryboy passes out. Honey "Baked" Hamilton manages to stay concious long enough to see an angry tag team not two feet from him- as he identifies the faces of Corey Black and Jay Price, another strike to the face takes him down and blanks him out.]
Black: Looks like we found what we were looking for, alright- hey Prime, we've got two jobbers down over here. I repeat, the jobbers... are down.
[Jay Price looks at the two downed jobbers speculatively.]
Price: They're dead, Jim.
[Corey sighs]
Black: Nah, they're just sleepin'. Lazy fuckin' jobbers.
--------------------------------------------
[Scene opens outside what appears to be an abandoned building. The team is assembled, hidden behind a dumpster in the alleyway next to the building. Corey Black and Jay Price are filling in the rest of the crew.]
Price: ... so we just have to figure out how we're gonna get in there and get them back.
Black: I say we just go in. Balls deep.
Orbit: Man, leave this shit to me-- give me five minutes, I'll be out with the belts, and ain't nobody gotta get hurt.
Phantasm: What are you thinking? A con job?
[Orbit flashes a smile.]
Orbit: Let's just say y'all are lucky I brought some extra spending money on this trip.
[Jay Price steps forward.]
Price: I got your back, Steve. I'll go in with you.
[Orbit nods.]
Orbit: Just be cool in there, alright?
Price: Dude, I invented cool.
[Orbit shakes his head]
Orbit: Man, save your lyin' for the women.
Phantasm: Con job, though- I don't know, Five. These guys have gone through a shit storm to steal this stuff. I don't think they'll just hand the belts over. We might need that spending money to buy this shit back off eBay.
[Orbit's smile returns... Polar smiles right back, sensing Orbit's confidence.]
Orbit: Polar, trust me-- I got this.
[Corey shoots a glance at Polar-- almost saying "this is what I was talking about"-- but Polar agrees to let Price go ahead with Orbit. Orbit leads Price towards the front door of the boarded-up building. The door rattles as Orbit knocks. After a few moments, a voice is heard inside the door.]
Voice: Who's there?
Orbit: Hey, I'm from the WCF, uh-- loss prevention. Let me speak to the man around here.
[The door swings open-- a shotgun is shoved in Orbit's mouth. Orbit quickly puts his hands up and glances at Price, who shakes his head. Orbit and Price are grabbed by two men and tossed inside the building. The room is dimly lit with a single flourescent light flickering above. There's a peice of plywood set up on some milk crates-- a makeshift desk, and sitting behind it is presumably the man in charge. Orbit and Price are put on their knees in front of him, guns to the back of their heads. Orbit begins to plead.]
Orbit: Look man, we just here to negotiate, that's all.
[Orbit goes to reach inside his pocket-- the man behind him pumps his shotgun, causing Orbit to freeze.]
Orbit: I'm just goin' for the cash, relax!
[Orbit pulls out an envelope-- he opens it, showing a large amount of money to the boss.]
Orbit: You guys have somethin' that belongs to our company. We were told to come here and pay as much as you asked-- name your price, you got it. There's plenty more where this came from.
[The men ease up on Price and Orbit, and they are allowed to stand. Orbit tosses the envelope on the table, as the boss begins to count the money.]
------------------------------
[Cut back out to outside the criminals' hideout, and the atmosphere is so tense you could cut it with a knife. All remaining Cryogenix members are hidden from view. Polar is hiding inside some nearby bushes, peeking through the leaves to see both Jeff and FPV sneaking on both sides of the building, Jeff taking the left and FPV taking the right, ready to spring into action in case shit goes south. Not too far from there, Corey has indulged in his inner ninja and has taken refuge in a nearby tree, not but 6 feet away from Polar. Everyone is dead silent, even the usually excited FPV is calm as a cucumber right now. He and Jeff keep a close eye out in case Jay and Steve need extra arms. Behind them, Polar and Corey lock gazes as Polar shoots a nod in Corey's general direction, he can't tell exactly where he is, what with all the trees and all. Corey catches the nod and brings his watch to his mouth, speaking as quietly as possible.]
Black: Three, in position.
Phantasm: Alright Five, Six... we're all in position on the exterior. Either get out here with the belts or give us a signal to come in after you...
FPV: ...and if we do, trust me- we won't be kind to these fuckers.
---------------------------------------
[Back inside of the criminals' hideout, things are still quite tense but the men that had been holding shotguns to the back of Orbit and Price's heads have taken a step back and lowered their weapons. The boss finishes counting up the last of the cash that Orbit had tossed to him and he begins to slowly fan his face with the stack of money.]
Boss: This stack feels a little on the light side, my friend. These belts should be worth five K more, easy.
Orbit: You want more money? We can do more. You need it all in cash, or what? Just sayin', bonds- untraceable, could go up in value. Your call, man.
Boss: I'd prefer cash, honestly. Call it the immigrant in me- I just want to see the cash. Show me the money, right?
Orbit: Yeah, good movie. I liked that one. Check it- reaching into my pocket for another envelope. We cool?
[The boss waves to the man behind Orbit and Price. Steve holds one of his hands up in the air as he reaches into a pocket and pulls out another envelope of cash before tossing it onto the desk. The boss takes a long look at both Orbit and Price, as if to study them, before reaching for the envelope. He opens it up, takes a look inside and then, without counting the money inside, nods at his men. Both move around Orbit and Price and take a place on either side of the desk as the boss stands up from his chair.]
Boss: All right my friends, I do believe we can do business.
[Both Price and Orbit let out a sigh of relief as the boss turns to walk away from the desk. Price reaches over and slaps Orbit on the back.]
Price: Fuck yeah. Nice work there, Five.
[The look on Orbit's face turns to alarm, then becomes a subtle stare. He whispers quietly to Price, hiding his tone as best he can.]
Orbit: Dude, keep it together until we're out of here.
Price: Lighten up, you heard the guy!
[Price starts to reach into his pocket for his flask, causing one of the men holding a shotgun to get nervous. He raises his shotgun and raises it at Price's head.]
Guard: Stop! Put your hand back down!
Price: Relax, hombre, I'm just going for the good stuff.
[Price, completely unaware of the double meaning of his statement, continues reaching for his flask. The other guard raises his shotgun at Price's head and both men begin screaming at him to put his hand back down. The boss stops walking away from his desk and turns back to the action.]
Boss: What is this? A double-cross?! Local Gangsters, get 'em! NOW!
[Several more men rush into the room and quickly surround Price and Orbit.]
Price: What the hell, man?
Orbit: Six, you dumb mother-
Boss: You think you can just pull a weapon on me while I have my back turned?
Price: I was just- It's not a weap-
Boss: Silence! You think I'm a fool? No my friend, you are the fool. I am not a fool. Say it!
[Orbit and Price respond together.]
Orbit and Price: You are not a fool.
Boss: Yes. We were going to do business together, but now? Now I'm going to take your money, walk out of this room and leave the two of you to my men. What do you think about that, fools?
Price: I'm telling you- this is just a mistake!
Boss: The only mistake was you two thinking you could outsmart me.
[The boss gives his men a nod of the head and then walks out of the room. As he pulls the door shut behind him, the two men holding shotguns step through the circle of guards and stand in front of Orbit and Price.]
Guard: So....you want it in the head or the chest?
Orbit: Six- fuck man, look what you did-
Price: It wasn't my fault!
Orbit: The hell it wasn't!
Price: Look, damnit-
Guard: Shut up!
[Two of the men standing behind Price and Orbit step forward and push them roughly down to their knees. The men holding the shotguns step forward and place the barrels on their foreheads.]
Guard: I hope you've made peace with God my friends.
[The men move their fingers to the triggers of the guns when suddenly the windows of the room break in. Glass shatters everywhere as the men turn their attention to the commotion. Price and Orbit look back and forth at each other as we see several of FPV's glowstick grenades bounce into the middle of the room. The guards all scramble to get out of the way; Orbit pushes himself up and dives behind a busted up sofa. Price tries to push himself up but stumbles and falls back to the ground. Without warning the glowstick grenades explode open, spraying the bright neon paint all over the place. The guards, along with Price, are covered in the stuff. Some of the guards rush out of the room, obviously expecting more to come. Two of the guards that took a decent amount of paint to the eyes are stumbling around the room. Orbit emerges from behind the sofa and can't help but let out a stifled laugh as he sees Price covered in paint.]
Price: Dude, help me with these clowns!
[Price pushes himself up to his feet and tackles one of the guards into the makeshift desk as Orbit draws his piece, firing a blast into the closest thug. Price finishes off his guy with a few well placed punches to the head and then climbs back over the desk. Orbit tries not to laugh as Price unsuccessfully tries to wipe some of the paint from his face.]
Price: DAMNIT FRANK! I...I GOT FUCKING SLIMED!
[The guy Orbit blasted in the face thrashes about, screaming- he pulls a chunk of skin from his face and gurgles in horror. The thug passes out on the floor, possibly from shock.]
Orbit: Could be worse, though. You could be that mother fucker.
[Cue to back outside of the enemies' hideout where FPV has his MP5 trained on the head of a criminal that was unlucky enough to run out of the building and right into him. There's a bit of a standoff between the two men as the criminal refuses to put down his weapon.]
FPV: I'm telling you, you better put that gun down.
Criminal: No, you put your gun down!
FPV: I'm not going to stand here and do this all day. Put your gun down.
Criminal: No, you!
FPV: Fine! You want me to put my gun down? Here you go. See?
[Frank leans over and places his gun on the ground, but in the process quickly removes a grenade from his pocket and gives it a soft toss toward the criminal. The grenade hits a small pebble and takes a wicked hop- the criminal sees the grenade and drops his gun in a panic, diving off to one side behind some metal barrels. FPV laughs as he picks his MP5 back up, scooping up the grenade casually as he kicks the criminal's gun away.]
FPV: Hey, dumbass- real grenades don't bounce like that.
[Frank bounces the rubber dummy grenade and takes a step toward the bushes. As Frank catches the dummy grenade, the criminal springs toward his gun, landing two feet away from it. As he strains to reach the pistol, he hears FPV's voice behind him-]
FPV: BOOM-
[-and when he turns, we see a 9mm slug enter the guy's forehead.]
FPV: Headshot.
[The criminal drops to the ground, dead. FPV tucks the grenade in his pocket, shrugging.]
FPV: Some people have no appreciation for props.
[We then cut to Polar Phantasm, who is in the middle of a standoff of his own. Polar has his .25 trained on the guy standing in front of him, but appears to be outmatched as the guy is holding a sawed off shotgun.]
Phantasm: You have no idea what you're dealing with, sir- I suggest you put down that scattergun before you get yourself killed.
Criminal: I got two shells ready to go- you just got that little pea-shooter.
Phantasm: You've got a gun built to spread shot, and you're just far enough away from me for that to be an issue. Meanwhile, this mean little bitch can put a .25 round through reinforced steel. Maybe you live- but I'd have to miss. And I don't miss.
Criminal: You might if you're fulla buckshot.
[Polar's eyes quickly shift; he blinks, then cautiously nods. The criminal watches carefully as Polar bends over and sets his gun on the ground.]
Criminal: All right, now take two steps back.
[Polar follows the order and takes two steps back. The criminal keeps his shotgun trained on Polar as he cautiously steps forward. He kneels down and reaches to retrieve the .25 and Polar quickly acts, tackling the man to the ground. There's a brief struggle and the shotgun goes flying off to the side as Polar catches the guy with a punch to the face. Seeing the shotgun is the closest, Polar scrambles to get it. He grabs hold of it and turns onto his back just as the criminal closes in on him. Polar squeezes the trigger...but nothing happens.]
Phantasm: You have got to be kidding me...
[Realizing the gun is jammed, the criminal grabs Polar's throat... suddenly, he releases his grip and falls over. The Phantasm rolls out of the way of the collapsing convict; as he does, we see a dart sticking in the ass of the criminal. Jeff Purse walks into view, dart gun in his hand. He extends a hand, helping Polar to his feet.]
Phantasm: Cuttin' it a little close there, eh?
Purse: I mean, I had the shot, but I saw you get the shotgun... I thought you had him, that's all.
Phantasm: Almost did- but then he almost had me. Thanks, Two. Prime here- status report?
[Things again quickly switch, this time to the woods. We see two criminals running for their lives, jumping over fallen trees and pushing their way through branches.]
Criminal #1: Who the hell are those guys?
Criminal #2: I don't know bu-
[Suddenly one of the criminals stumbles over a root sticking up out of the ground. The second criminal stops and looks like he's considering helping when he changes his mind and keeps running. He hears a wet popping sound behind him but doesn't dare look back as he tries to get away. However he doesn't get far as we see him suddenly drop to the ground, screaming in pain.]
Black: Shut up- you'll live. It's just a calf muscle.
[Corey Black walks into view, a ninja star in hand. We get a look at the guys leg as Black kneels down and removes a ninja star that is buried nearly halfway into the meat. We then get a look of the other criminal, propped against a fallen log and looking as if his face had just been smashed into said log. He spits out a gob of blood and then coughs up some more.]
Criminal #1: Who....who the hell are you?
[Black starts to say something when the guy laid out on the ground holding his leg interrupts.]
Criminal #2: He's a dead man when the Local Gangsters are through with him-
[Corey tosses the shuriken, catching the mouthy criminal in the chest. He collapses in a pile of twigs and leaves. When Corey Black turns back, he sees the bloody-faced criminal is struggling to pull a pistol from his waist. Corey shakes his head in disappointment.]
Black: Here's a tip for you Local Gangsters...
[He smacks the criminal in the forehead with a palm strike, sending his head back against the log once more.]
Black: ...don't fuck with international men of mystery.
[With lighting fast precision Black snaps the guys neck and then stands back up. After retrieving his stars from the bodies, Black begins to head back to the criminals' hideout to meet up with the team.]
Black: C-3 here- just bagged two of 'em. Whoever said 'the most dangerous game to hunt is man'... he'd never met these fools.
[Via comms, we hear the voice of Cryogenix Prime.]
Phantasm: Glad to hear your hunting trip went well, Three.
Black: I could've followed these two blindfolded; they're flourescent for fuck's sake. Four- the paint bombs work.
FPV: YES!
[We cut to FPV, standing inside of the bad guys' hideout.]
FPV: C-4, I got one of 'em... looks like Five and Six had fun in here, too.
[The camera pulls back to show the room in its entirety- the walls and floors and furniture are all aglow with flourescent glow-in-the dark paint. Steve Orbit and Jay Price enter, dragging a massive safe on a throw rug. Orbit is a little dusty, but otherwise clean... Jay Price is covered in green flourescent glow-paint.]
Orbit: C-5, we got the goods. Man, those acid shells y'all cooked up... nasty shit, man.
[The Mack kicks a guy on the floor... the one without a head.]
FPV: I don't know about you guys, but I kinda like the new job.
Price: Speak for yourself, Four...
[Jay Price steps over, wiping paint from his clothes and flinging it at FPV. Frank just laughs.]
Price: Six here... other than the new paintjob, I'm fine. The loot's accounted for.
Orbit: I recommend we get the fuck out of here as soon as possible, Prime.
[Over comms, we hear the Phantasm's voice once more.]
Phantasm: Absolutely what I was thinking. Excellent work, Cryogenix- excellent, excellent work.
[We cut back to Polar and Jeff Purse, walking quickly toward the hideout. Polar has a huge smile on his face.]
Purse: We all coulda died doing this shit, man... why you smiling?
Phantasm: Because none of us did, Jeff. None of us did.
---------------------------------------------------------
[We see the entire Cryogenix team with the exception of Jay Price standing in front of an open safe, somewhere inside of Cryogenix HQ. Inside are all of the old WCF Titles and the supposedly 'cursed' Trios Cup Trophy. Polar Phantasm steps forward and drops to a knee, reaching in and pulling out some of the belts.]
Phantasm: Hold on a second, we're two belts short.
Black: What? Are you telling me we missed something back there?
Orbit: That's impossible, that safe was sealed until we got it back here and opened it. There's no way that we missed something.
Purse: Yeah dude, we searched the whole place- the shit has to be in there.
Phantasm: Well I'm telling you... we're two short. According to everything Eye-Seven had on this job, there was supposed to be ten title belts and one trophy. I'm only counting eight belts in this thing.
FPV: Which of the belts are missing?
Phantasm: Looks like the original People's and Elite Title belts.
[At the words 'Elite Title', Corey does a head count and finds himself short one number Six.]
Black: ...where the hell is Price at?
Purse: He said he needed to go and clean up after getting slimed with glowstick grenade back there...
[Cryogenix Prime glances thoughtfully over to his good friend and faithful warchief, Corey Black.]
Phantasm: ...think Price took 'em?
Black: Bingo.
Orbit: That's crazy, man. There's no place to go with them! Why in the world wou-
[The sounds of "You Are So Beautiful" being sung from down the hall interrupt the Mack mid-sentence... everyone heads toward the sound, looking for its source. Corey Black's head drops in disappointment as recognizes the sound of Price's voice.]
Price: You are so beautiful............to me!
Black (muttered): Thievin' and karaoke- this is the kinda shit I was worried about, Prime.
[While everyone else looks back and forth at each other, Polar walks over to a normally unused door and turns the knob. He pulls the door open and then takes a step back as the camera moves in to see what is inside.]
Price: Can't yooou seeee... ooohhwhooaaaaaoooh!
[...and as the door opens, the Future Elements react with horror.]
Purse: Jesus- my eyes!
Phantasm: Oh, come on Jay! At least put up a sign, man-
[Inside of the room is Jay Price, currently in the middle of a bubble bath. At the moment he's holding a small yellow rubber duck in his hands, staring into its eyes lovingly.]
Price: You're everything I hoped for- you're EEEVERYTHING I neeed...
[Price's off key singing (or terrible Joe Cocker impression, one) and Purse and Phantasm's reaction brings the rest of the team over to the doorway, despite Polar's best efforts to wave them away. Price finally notices the group staring at him as he lowers the duck.]
Price: ...can't a guy get a bit of privacy in this place?!
[Polar lowers his head, running his hands through his hair and yanking at the roots a bit nervously.]
Phantasm: Yeah, that's not an issue... but, uh... look, Jay... we were going through the stuff in the safe and a couple of belts were missing. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?
Price: Who, me? ...uh, no! Nah man, I came right into the bathroom here when we got back.
[Price adjusts himself uncomfortably in the bathtub.]
Black: Jay, cut the crap.
Price: What the hell, man? Why are you riding my toned and firm ass here? What makes you think I'd just take the belts?!
Black: Because I've met you before? Dude, I know you and I know how you are about those belts. Pretty much everyone who's ever seen a WCF show knows how you are about those belts. You're OJ-level guilty, man.
Phantasm: Look, Jay, if you have them... just give them back man. We had a job to do and we did it, no reason to jeopardize our integrity by taking the goods for ourselves.
Price: But you don't understand!
Purse: Dude, we get it. We all know your history with those belts, but you have to do the right thing. They belong to the 'fed.
Orbit: Yeah bro, we all have to do the right thing. What would happen if we all started jacking shit after we recovered it?
Phantasm: We're operatives, not criminals. Come on man, you know they're right.
[Price drops his head in shame.]
Price: ...man, I didn't even get to spend the day with them.
[Price fishes around in the water by his legs and comes up with the original People's Title. He hands it off to Polar, who hands it off to Corey who looks like he'd rather be holding anything else in the world.]
Phantasm: And the Elite Title?
Price: But... I...
Phantasm: Come on Six, cough it up.
[Price looks up at Polar as if to argue, but then drops his head again. He then nods his head in agreement and then stands up, revealing the Elite Title wrapped around his midsection and...Elite member. Polar starts to say something when Price reaches around, unclasps the belt and hands it over to Polar, revealing himself to the team.]
Price: THERE! Take it! I hope you're happy-
Purse: OH, HELL NO!
[Purse turns around and begins dry heaving as the rest of the team walks off. Polar turns and walks away, shaking his head.]
Phantasm: You're one crazy bastard, Price.
Black: ...somebody get me some brain bleach. Now.
[Price reaches over and grabs himself a towel before wrapping it around his waist. He slips his feet into his slippers and follows Polar out into the War Room in time to see him placing the belts back into the safe with the rest. Polar starts to push the safe door shut when he stops, pulls it back open and pulls out the Trios Cup Trophy.]
Phantasm: Oh yeah- almost forgot about this... I got plans for you, my little silver friend.
Price: Whoa! You just forced me to give back my title belts and now you're eyeing up the trophy? What gives?
[Corey stops attempting to erase his brain through willpower long enough to agree with budding nudist Jay Price.]
Black: Yeah, Polar- that does seem a bit hypocritical. What's up with that?
Phantasm: Yeah, it seems kinda fucked up... I'll agree with y'all on that. But at last check, none of you have an angry pregnant wife that needs cheering up.
[Price, still a bit miffed about the People's and Elite titles, continues debating the topic.]
Price: And a trophy is going to cheer her up? How does a stolen trophy-
Phantasm: It's not the trophy itself, per se... it's what I'm going to do with it that should do the trick.
[Frank walks past, noticing Polar with the Trios Cup trophy.]
FPV: Pudding time?
Phantasm: Oh yes. It's pudding time, children.
[Polar polishes the trophy a bit with his shirt; Jay Price just stares at him confused.]
Price: Pudding? Is that like, code or something?
Phantasm: Long story, man. But no worries- I promise I'll have it back with the belts by tomorrow. Hell, I'll even clean it!
[Polar walks off with the trophy in hand as the rest of the team looks on.]
Black: Seriously Price, will you go put some clothes on?! You're creeping me out with the towel and slippers look.
[Corey Black walks off as Price just shrugs his shoulders.]
Price: Hey! If you got it, flaunt it.
--------------------------------------------------
[Bankston Hall; bedchamber of the Unstable Elements. Other than the dim light of the security bulbs overhead, the room is again quite dark... much as before, the bed is occupied. We can make out the shape of Nightmare beneath the sheets; she seems to have barely moved since Cryogenix took the field. The door swings open with a mighty whoosh and a slight squeal... the figure that enters is obviously the Polar Phantasm, judging by the bone-white hair and the shining silver Trios Cup trophy in his hand.]
Phantasm: Wakey wakey-
[An angry mutter comes from the bed (or its inhabitant, anyway).]
Phantasm: Crystal- seriously, baby, wake up for a second. Remember how I said I'd find some kind of way to cheer you up?
[The covers rustle- a dark-haired head emerges.]
Nightmare: Yeah... though I couldn't possibly imagine what-
Phantasm: Permission to turn on the lights?
[She covers her eyes]
Nightmare: Do it.
[Polar slaps the switch on the wall; the lights pop on. Though her face is partially obscured by her hand, we can still see Nightmare's eyes squint and her face contort into a wince.]
Nightmare: Jesus- this had better be worth it, Cam.
[He holds up the trophy and a large bowl of a brownish substance.]
Phantasm: I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.
[She uncovers her eyes, blinking at first in agony... but then, after a moment, in surprise.]
Nightmare: ...oh, Cameron...
Phantasm: And this time, we actually have some chocolate. I hope that's fine with y-
[Before he could finish his sentence, the Phantasm was assaulted by a crazed pregnant woman. Most opponents have trouble catching Polar off guard or sweeping him off of his feet; in the blink of an eye, Nightmare managed to put her husband into a liplock of doom. It's one submission hold that Polar had never thought to counter. After a moment, she finally releases; to his credit, the Phantasm had dropped neither pudding nor trophy. She snatched the bowl and the cup from his hands, setting about combining the two with mad glee.]
Nightmare: So how was their first mission? Did I miss anything fun?
[He sits on the bed next to his wife, running his fingers through her hair as she piles chocolate pudding into a thousand-dollar trophy.]
Phantasm: Corey killed some dudes, Orbit almost conned the bad guys into surrendering before they went all 'Scarface' on him, Frank got to play with his glowstick grenades finally... Jeff saved my life...
[She nods approvingly as she shovels a large spoonful of pudding into her mouth, eyes rolling back in her head with pleasure.]
Phantasm: ...oh, and Jay ended up taking a bath with the People's and Elite Titles. We all saw his dingus.
[She laughs, pudding still in mouth as she does; her laughter continues as she tries to speak. A bit of chocolate pudding comes out of her nose.]
Nightmare: Oh god- that's... horrible...
[He playfully wipes the pudding from her nose, licking it off of his finger.]
Nightmare: ..ew! Guh-ross.
[Her playful smile causes the Phantasm's heart to melt to a puddle. He embraces her, kissing her on the side of the neck as he does so.]
Phantasm: Yeah... this was definitely a mission to sit out, baby.
Nightmare: ...still wish I'd have been there for all the shooting and the stabbing. Why does Corey get all the fun?
Phantasm: Because Corey's not pregnant with my baby... and I think we can both be thankful for that.
[He pulls back, looking deeply into her eyes.]
Phantasm: I love you, Crystal.
[Tears well in her eyes as she responds.]
Nightmare: And I love you, Cameron-
[Through her teary gaze, she notices his hand creep toward the spoon... she interrupts her profession of love momentarily to slap his hand as if it were a crawling insect.]
Phantasm: -ow! Shit!
Nightmare: -just 'cause I love your ass doesn't mean you can steal my pudding.
[He pouts mischevously.]
Nightmare: ...alright, fine. Open up, big boy- here comes the puddin' train.
Phantasm: You serious? I can has-
[And with that, Crystal Bankston shoves a spoonful of chocolate pudding into her husband's open mouth. She laughs and pats him on the head as he just stares at her, disbelief in his eyes and a stainless steel spoon sticking out of his mouth.]
------------------------------------------------------
[From the files of Iceberg-Seven...]
....Iceberg-Seven online.
....accessing file: "I7:/cgxdata/profiles/cgx2-purse.dat"
....processing file.
....processing complete; voice synthesizer activated.
Profile: Jeff Purse
Raised in an environment that fostered and entrenched numerous fears and compulsions inside of him at a young age, Jeff Purse has never felt 'safe' or 'secure' in his life. Perhaps that is what drove him toward extreme sports in his adolescence? Rebellion mixed with desire inside of him and that caused him to throw caution to the wind. Whatever the case was, it turned out that Jeff would turn out a phenomenal athlete; he made quite a mark on the BMX racing scene before ever training as a wrestler. Jeff began his wrestling career for the fledgling American Championship Wrestling federation... this would be where he would meet his future tag team partner Night Rider. This would also be where he would begin his long-standing rivalry with known psychopath (and enemy of the Unstable Elements) Nathan Von Liebert.
Jeff Purse lives on a farm in Berwick, Pennsylvania; its barn has been converted into an all-purpose training center/gymnasium. Jeff is often joined there by his on-again/off-again girlfriend/fiancee', Kari Kendall. Jeff's barn has been the scene of some fairly legendary meetings in the last year... it has also been an 'emergency crash pad' for the Polar Phantasm more than once in the past.
In Jeff's WCF career, he found early success in a Tag Team Title stint with Night Rider... but Jeff really hit his stride at Asesinato De Mayo 2012 when he won the US Title early in the evening and came back to close the show out with the founding of Pantheon. During the reign of Pantheon, Jeff held the United States, Television and World Title belts at one point or another... he also won 'War', an impressive feat few could ever hope to accomplish. He also developed a strong relationship with the Polar Phantasm, the two bonding over the loss of Phantasm's girlfriend and tag partner Nightmare. As the Future Elements, Jeff and Polar fought against such villains as Monsters Inc. and the Darkside of Treachery. The two men fight together as such today, united against Jeff's hated rival Eric Price and his Bravado faction... especially its 'talent relations director', evil temptress and WCF World Champion Sarah Twilight.
As Cryogenix Two, Purse is the Phantasm's trusted lieutenant. Jeff Purse is always ready to act as the voice of reason... or the wild right hook of justice. His surprising strength, NBA-caliber vertical leap and seemingly inexhaustible stamina make him an excellent soldier. His charisma, his unwavering integrity and his love for his fellow man make him a leader. His ability to conquer seemingly any fear and his death-defying bravery in the face of staggering odds make him damn-near unstoppable.
He is the one, the only... 'The Future'. Truer words are rarely spoken.
[end of file]
...Iceberg-Seven is idle.
-------------------------------------------------------
[(c) Eric Price Pro Wrestling / WCF Pictures / Project: Antarctica Productions 2013. All rights reserved.]
--------------------------------------------------------
[And now... out-takes!]
[We see Jay Price in his tuxedo, sitting at the bar in the Cryogenix HQ Living Quarters. He grandly postures while holding three daggers; one of them slips from his grasp. He tries to grab it as it falls; he stops himself before he grabs the blade.]
Price: Shit!
[As it bangs on the ground, he makes a face. Off-screen, we hear a low chorus of laughs.]
Price: I meant to do that.
[Scene cuts to the hangar at CGXHQ; we see Steve Orbit escorting a truck driver away from the group.]
Orbit: Tell you what, homie- I'll take you to the bus station. You ever ridden a cabby- Caddy, fuck!
[Laughs from off-screen; Orbit smiles and shakes his head.]
Orbit: ...what the fuck is up with that?
[From off-screen, we hear a weak shout]
Purse: It's Freudian!
Orbit: Fuck you, Jeff.
[Even Steve Orbit can't help but laugh. We cut to the War Room; Polar turns to his right, looking at Corey Black.]
Phantasm: Eye-Seven, can you-
Black: Dude, I'm Three. You named the computer Seven...
[Polar rolls his eyes, putting his head on the table as if ashamed.]
Phantasm: God damnit. Sorry, Corey- been a long day, man.
FPV: Can I be Eye-Seven next take?
Phantasm: Fuck you, Frank.
[We cut again, but stay in the War Room- Polar is speaking to the assembled group.]
Phantasm: We're not the Pantheon anymore... we're not Genesis anymore...
[From across the room, we hear "Someone Like You" by Adele suddenly begin playing. Everyone turns to FPV, who is digging his cellphone out of his pocket.]
Phantasm: Damn, Frank-
FPV: Yeah, my bad.
[Jay Price just stares at him.]
Price: Really?
FPV: -shut up, I like that song.
Orbit: Yeah, it's not bad.
Phantasm: I never really got into-
[Polar stops himself in a huff.]
Phantasm: Wait... cut!
[Cut to Jay Price, mingling with a pair of young hippie girls.]
Price: ...but have you ever *really* hugged a tree? I do it at least once a week, you know- show Mother Nature I'm still her boy at heart.
Girl #2: That's sweet-
Girl #1: -awww..
Price: ...yeah, you know. So, you two scissor sisters, or what?
[The girls look to one another and storm off, arm in arm.]
Price: Called it.
[He turns to the camera]
Price: Tell me you got that. Totally called it!
[Jay turns to look behind him; camera swings over to show Corey Black laughing at Jay Price and shaking his head.]
Price: What? Come on, man. What's up with all these lesbo extras? That's like, eight of them now! I mean... who casted this crap? It's like the Lilith Fair all over again...
[We cut again to a hallway inside WCF Headquarters; to footage from the security camera, actually. As the timecode runs in the bottom-right corner, we see two men dressed in black and wearing white 'Tek' masks creep past at an exaggerated, cartoonish pace. After making it past the camera, they creep back; one taps the other on the shoulder, pointing to the camera. Both give the camera a nod of the head, then creep back off screen.]
[We cut to the forest; the Phantasm squeezes the trigger of a sawed-off shotgun to no avail.]
Phantasm: You have got to be kidding me...
[The criminal wraps his hands around Polar's throat- as he gives a squeeze, Polar gives token resistence. This continues for about four seconds, until Polar taps the man gripping his throat on the back of the head. As he releases his grip, Polar gasps a large breath.]
Phantasm: -the safety's on, Jeff.
[We turn to see Jeff Purse, holding his dart-pistol dramatically- he looks at its side, shrugging slightly.]
Purse: So it is.
Phantasm: Might want to turn the safety off, Jeff.
Purse: I think I'll do that.
[Jeff Purse tries to keep a straight face as he slaps the safety with as much flourish as he can muster.]
Purse: Alright, then. I guess back to one.
Phantasm: That'd be the plan, Jeff.
[Cut to a bush in front of the bad guy's hideout- Honey Baked Hamilton and Cryboy McEmo get jumped out with a pair of huge punches. As Cryboy lands, we hear him shout-]
Cryboy: OW- I landed on my keys!
[Corey Black and Jay Price high-five.]
Price: Fuck yeah, Wayne's World jokes!
Black: Yeah, nice one, uh... Cryboy.
[Corey looks to Jay, confused.]
Black: It's always awkward for me when I hit the jobbers and they don't die.
Price: Yeah?
[We cut to FPV's laboratory inside Cryogenix HQ. Frank looks off-camera, speaking to Jeff Purse.]
FPV: I still think you're a boudle, though.
[...A grenade bounces into view, then quickly into the camera itself. The lens cracks slightly.]
Purse: Oh shit- that wasn't a mirror, was it?
[In our fractured view, we can only see Frank shake his head.]
FPV: Network is gonna be pissed, bro- but nice shot!
[We cut to Corey Black, about to dispatch a criminal in the forest.]
Black: Here's a tip for you Local Gangsters-
[Instead of giving the guy a palm strike, Corey just gives him a stern look.]
Black: -you know how terrible that name is, right? It's not even a 'Who's On First', really, it's like a 'Who the Fuck Cares'.
Criminal: Just kill me already, shit!
[Laughs from off-screen are joined by some hearty chuckles from Corey Black.]
Black: I mean, come on- you guys sound like a fuckin' ska band.
[From off-screen, someone yells 'Cut!'. Corey Black stops his laughing after a moment of focus. He turns to the camera]
Black: Kids, don't join a gang... but if you do, don't join a gang with a stupid name. I'm Corey Black, and this was a public service announcement. Thank you and good night.
[We cut to the team gathered around the safe back at Cryogenix Headquarters; the door of the safe swings open and everyone reacts with surprise... as they find the safe empty?]
Phantasm: Oh, what the f-
[With a massive jangling of metal plates, Jay Price enters the shot wearing all of the belts and nothing else. He clutches the Trios Cup trophy over his head triumphantly]
Price: I... HAVE... THE... POWERRRRRRRR!!!
Purse: Ugh, he's naked under there!
Phantasm: Jay, come on- those are artifacts, man-
Price: -oh, come on- like you've never thought about doing it.
[The rest of the group all look to each other]
Price: I'll take the belts off.
[We cut to the Unstable Elements' bedroom. Polar softly speaks as he approaches the bed carrying the silver trophy and the bowl of pudding.]
Phantasm: Crystal- seriously, wake up, baby-
[Polar takes another step closer to the bed- the covers fly back and Jeff Purse springs forth, embracing him quite suddenly.]
Purse: OH, I LOVE YOU SO, CAMERON!
[The Phantasm is powerless, handcuffed by trophy and pudding- all he can do is laugh at his friend's prank.]
Purse: PUT ALL OF YOUR BABIES INSIDE ME!
Phantasm: You bastards- you hilarious bastards. I will have you know I didn't spill a drop of this pudding!
[Purse releases the Phantasm, feigning anger. He suddenly has the voice of a Southern Belle.]
Purse: You always did love Bill Cosby more than me-
[Jeff Purse throws himself onto the bed, holding the back of one hand to his head dramatically.]
Phantasm: Jeff with the 'Oscar scene'!
[We see Jay Price singing in the bathtub, his eyes closed as he pours himself into the lyrics.]
Price: -you're everything I hope for... you're EV-rything I neeeeed...
[From off-screen, we hear Frank shout]
FPV: Fire in the hole!
[...A 'grenade' flies into view, splashing into the bathtub with a tremendous 'plop'. Jay Price leaps from the bathtub, spilling onto the floor in a heap. He looks up to hear a chorus of laughs from the others.]
Price: You are such an asshole, Frank...
FPV: Oh come on- that was funny.
[We cut back to the bathtub; Jay Price is once more deep into his serenade]
Price: Can't yoooou seeeee....eeeeeee?!?
[The Phantasm pops into view, sliding across the bathroom floor on both knees. He squints his eyes and bellows out along with his teammate.]
Polar and Price: You're everything I hoped for... and EV-rything I neeed...
[Price tries to embrace the Phantasm, who crawls away from him at high speed.]
Price: Come on, I thought we were having a moment!
Phantasm: Not touching you naked, Jay-
Price: What, it's a naked moment! Naked moments are beautiful!
[Price tries to get out of the tub; he slips and lands on the Phantasm.]
Phantasm: Oh, god- rape! I mean, cut!
[We cut to the back door of WCF Headquarters.]
Orbit: Well, shit- don't knock it till you try it, homie.
[Purse tries the handle; it sticks. Purse tries again... nothing happens. He gives the door a jerk to no avail.]
Orbit: What the-
[The Mack and the Future both grab the handle and pull on it.]
Purse: Maybe it's locked-
Orbit: -I think it's- stuck maybe?
[They both give a tug, Purse kicking one leg up onto the wall for leverage. Orbit sees this, then releases the door and walks away laughing hysterically.]
Orbit: Man... which one of y'all mo'fuckers locked the door?
[We cut to the War Room; Polar and FPV are showing off shotgun shells to Steve Orbit.]
FPV: The green ones are full of bath beads, full of- wait, hold up.
[We cut back to the same shot]
FPV: The green ones are full of tiny plastic bubbles, full of- almost like- sorta, maybe, I don't know, shit. Cut?
[Again, to same shot]
FPV: The green ones are full of... green pea-ness.
[Everyone laughs; Frank turns dramatically to the camera and winks.]
FPV: Soilent green- it's made out of acid.
[We cut back to the bathtub, one more time...]
Phantasm: You're one crazy bastard, Price.
Black: ...somebody get me some brain bleach. Now.
[Looking to the dry heaving Jeff Purse, Jay Price shouts...]
Price: Hey, come on- somebody wash my back!
[Jeff Purse just shakes his head sickly as we fade to black.]
---------------------------------------------------------------
You have just watched 'CRYOGENIX S1E1: The Price of Freedom (pilot)'.
...Next in queue: 'CRYOGENIX S1E2: The Great Train Robbery'.
Play now? [Y/N]
What you are about to read is the realization of a year-old dream.
During the DoT debacle, FPV and I found ourselves wishing to someday have our 'own team'... at first, this idea was just for the two of us to tag together. Quickly, though, we began to imagine something bigger... something more adventurous. Of course we did- it was me and Frank, you know? When we kick ideas around, shit gets weird quick. But these ideas, shoved in a corner of a Wordpad document last year, would not be forgotten... they would also not be touched for nine months.
When I returned from my hiatus (a break for which I still feel a need to apologize to this place for), I found Pantheon and Genesis stuck in neutral and the bad guys about to take over the show. I spoke with Twilight and Eric Price and they had a lot of good ideas for what to do on their end... it made me look in my old 'Ideas For After Pantheon' file, and the first idea that jumped out at me was for a covert-ops style crew with Frank and a few of our friends. Some of those friends were in Pantheon... some of those friends were in Genesis. I set about inquiring with these guys as to what the future held for them... no matter their answer, I let them in on my idea anyway. All of them signed on for it without question. I was pleased, but hesitant- would it actually work? Would WCF be 'down' with a six-man face stable that also has its own weekly action-comedy-drama spy series?
It took six guys two weeks' time to make this... but man, does it work.
What you are about to read, then, is the realization of a year-long dream made possible by the hard work and love of myself and five of the finest WCF has to offer. It's massive, sure... but it's worth it. It was all worth it. Please, read the shit out of this thing and enjoy it... we offer this document as proof that this is far more than just an e-fed. WCF is THE e-fed. Six dudes talking about wrestling? Any fed can do that. Six dudes making an action movie? Now you're playing with power. Within three months of getting here last year, I knew that the talent in this place could put out shit better than Hollywood does- we proved that with Breakout Kings of the Ring. But a team like this... with enemies as good as we have? And background characters and associates like we've got? And backstory like we all have? Oh, man- we could write a fuckin' series out of this.
And so we shall.
Ladies and gentlemen of WCF, we proudly present Cryogenix Episode 1. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed making it... and we hope you look forward to more of them as much as we do.
Sincerely,
Brian Bonhagen
Stand-up Comedian/Writer, City of New Orleans...
...and yes, the Polar Phantasm.
---------------------------------------
[Backstage, after WCF's Blast - June 30th 2013. We see six men walk down a hallway together, exiting the stage area... by their celebratory expressions, we can assume they've just done something really awesome or important. High-fives and fist bumps fly back and forth amongst the group as they head into the depths of the confusing Japanese arena... suddenly two guys with smartphones as tape recorders approach the group.]
Podcaster: Hey, you guys are Cryogenix! That's awesome. I'm from the Internet! What do you have to say to the Internet and all of the Internet out there?
Phantasm: Did you just... Hi, Internet! We're Cryogenix, and-
Other Podcaster: Is there any truth to the rumors that you were or currently are involved in covert operations for the US government? The Internet wants to-
[Polar stifles a laugh.]
Phantasm: Me? A spy? ...us? Come on. That's just... ridiculous, really. Right, guys?
[The team all act surprised at the allegations with loud murmured and humorous responses; Polar tries - and fails - to supress a smile.]
[Cut to - long shot of Project: Antarctica, exterior... [Cryogenix Headquarters] [Project: Antarctica, Colorado] appears at the bottom of the screen as we view the vast landscape of - to the untrained eye - not much of anything. Eventually we cut to a hallway inside CGXHQ; we hear the music blaring from a room down the hall. Corey Black enters, walks down the hall and into a room marked 'STORAGE'. On a small sign under it: 'the Toolshed'. As he steps inside, a light goes on; as the room is illuminated, we can see that it lives up to its billing. One wall is completely covered in legit tools... claw hammers, a maul, a couple crowbars, a couple of big ass chisels, a nailgun... as we soak that all in, the camera slowly pans over to show the other side of the room, where Corey is headed. That's when we see a scottish claymore... a battle-axe... a massive warhammer with a needle-sharp point at one end... a broadsword. A god-damn broadsword! We see this 'who's who' of the midevil and feudal battlefield. Corey looks at this selection, but moves on... to a rack of feudal Japanese weapons. He grabs a katana, admiring it in its scabbard. He then considers a wakizashi carefully.]
[Cut to yet another hallway; this time, we're entering the living quarters. Jay Price sits at a bar, wearing a tuexdo... throwing daggers into a dartboard across the room while sipping at a rocks glass. We see the bottle of whiskey; there's no visible label and the bottle appears to be made of crystal. Then we see that he's grabbing the daggers out of a large metal ammo box chock full of them, and there are three more like it atop the bar. He finishes the contents of the glass with a slurp, tossing one more dagger and splitting the bullseye of the dartboard with a smash.]
[Cut to a dressing room; Steve Orbit comes out wearing a tailored suit. We see him look in a mirror, wink at his reflection... then, as he adjusts his collar, we see him stroll casually across a concrete hall and into a large closet. He walks over to a wall, grabs a cane - black with gold trim, but fairly simple-looking otherwise - from a rack of decidedly pimp canes. Orbit spins it around, admiring the sheen on the head of the blunt instrument as he leaves the room. The camera slowly pans across an ocean of walk in closet... hats, shoes, jewelry boxes, and a whole bunch of pimped out canes. Whoa boy.]
[Cut to Frank's lab, where the music appears to be coming from judging by the minor shaking we see in the hanging baskets that dangle above... we see the tremendous stereo system in Frank's lab, its speakers vibrating with the beat. We see Jeff Purse carefully counting grenades on a table, measuring the pile visibly before separating it into six even piles. Frank comes in and excitedly dumps a box full of grenades on the table; many of the grenades bounce off the table and go everywhere. Jeff just shakes his head in disgust as Frank scoops grenades off the floor.]
[Cut to Project: Antarctica's computer room; Polar stands before a desk staring at three displays. He's wearing a blue two-piece jogging outfit and has two shoulder holsters on. The camera pans around to show the displays; on one, a line from Denver to Reading is shown on a map with the legend 'Flight Plan Confirmed' blinking beneath it. The center screen has WCF Headquarters on it, the 'EPPW' flag flying above it. The third screen has a shot of a hangar, a jet inside ready and waiting. Polar heads out of the computer room and down a hallway, through a hatch and into the War Room... where we see the rest of the team gearing up. Corey throws his katana across his back and a stout hunting knife goes into his belt. Jay stashes a bunch of four-inch throwing daggers inside of his jacket, then fakes a cough with a flinch causing another dagger to jump out of his sleeve and into his hand. He offers it to Corey, who just shakes his head in exasperation. We see Steve Orbit showing off his cane to Jeff Purse... as he loads its handle with a single 12-gauge shell, we see that Orbit's cane is pretty pimp indeed. Purse and Orbit pick up their 'pieces' from the table (Jeff's piece an unusual looking scoped pistol, Steve's piece an unusual looking revolver) as we jump over to Frank, who loads a 9mm clip into his MP5. He then grabs a canvas bag with "OH SHIT, SON" written on it in large red letters and slings it over his shoulder. Polar walks over, holding two .45 pistols... he looks at them, shrugs and tosses them onto the table. He then pulls his custom .25 out of a holster at his ankle and admires it briefly, checking to make sure it's loaded. Frank looks at the small gun in Polar's hand and makes a sad face; Polar then picks up a Saiga-12 shotgun. Frank nods approvingly. Polar looks around at his team, prepared for war...]
Phantasm: Alright, Cryogenix... let's go. Next stop, Reading.
-------------------------------------------------
spy (n). a person employed by a government to obtain secret information or intelligence about another, usually hostile, country, especially with reference to military or naval affairs.
2. a person who keeps close and secret watch on the actions and words of another or others.
3. a person who seeks to obtain confidential information about the activities, plans, methods, etc., of an organization or person, especially one who is employed by a competitor: an industrial spy.
---------------------------------------------
[Painted, simply, upon the screen in military-style stencil is the word 'CRYOGENIX'... beneath this, "1: The Price of Freedom".]
----------------------------------------------
[Scene: Project: Antarctica (unknown location, CO), also known as 'Cryogenix Headquarters'; more specifically, the 'War Room'. The room is fairly large; it is furnished pretty sparsely, save for nine chairs around a massive circular conference table with a holographic display in the middle (very similiar to- but not identical to- the table that once served as the Pantheon's conference table). The far wall has three large displays on it; by all appearances they look like large flatscreen televisions, but the control panel on the wall beside them would lead one to believe otherwise. We see five men sitting at the table, clustered somewhat toward the far end near the video displays... these five would need no introduction in the ring, as they are as big of names as professional wrestling has to boast. Before them, we see another man pacing as if awaiting something... as he turns, we see by the expression on his face that the waiting is killing him. It's been a long road to here for the Polar Phantasm, and by all appearances he seems to just want to get started. We see the faces of his 'troops', all anxiously awaiting what's next... all questioning what it is that will be. It looks like six grown men waiting on Santa Claus to arrive, as if they were a bunch of children and it were Christmas Eve. It also looks like a bunch of guys who know no matter what bowl of shit they are served, they will be made to eat it.]
Phantasm: I guess while we're waiting we might as well cover the lineup once more... you're all smart men, I'm sure you've gotten it down... but it never hurts to be prepared. Frizzell might quiz us. I don't want him to think I don't know what I'm doing here.
Purse: ...do we know what we're doing?
[Polar smiles.]
Phantasm: We will, bro. Might as well start with you, Jeff- as Cryogenix-2, your role is field lieutenant. Your most important job out there is to have my back when it comes to strategy... even if it means asking questions that might seem obvious, it's necessary. I'm pretty good at figuring out a solution to a problem, but all it takes is one fuck-up in my calculations to get us all killed.
Purse: Why me, though? You always said I was at my best when I thought with my heart instead of my head, right?
Phantasm: That's just the thing, though. The reason we've always made such a great team is precisely that... it's a street that goes both ways. I can break down things easily in my head, but sometimes the heart knows what the head doesn't.
[From across the table, the Mack chimes in.]
Orbit: Sometimes a hunch beats facts and figures.
Phantasm: Exactly. And if that's what's up- which it is- there's no one I'd rather have watching my back out there than Jeff Purse.
[Purse hangs his head a bit.]
Purse: Even after I let my heart trick me into thinking Twilight cared about me?
Phantasm: Bro- we all make mistakes. What makes us great is how we deal with them... how we learn from them. You, for instance, have likely learned the hard way that things are not always what they seem...
Purse: Bingo.
Phantasm: Ask yourself- was there ever a moment in there where you wondered if any of it was real? Did some little voice in your head cry foul at any point?
Purse: -well, maybe...
Phantasm: That, my good friend, was your conscience reminding you that if it's too good to be true, it's probably false. This team needs you to listen to that voice, man- it's our hotline to reality. Shit's gonna get weird out there, but we'll be fine so long as we remember who we are and why we're doing this. That's your other big job out there, Jeff- keep us grounded.
[Purse just shakes his head.]
Purse: Didn't work with the Pantheon...
Black: ...well you were off fuckin' with Twilight while we were running shit-
Purse: -well you guys turned into dicks on me!
Phantasm: Hey- Two, Three, cut it out. Not sure if you noticed or not, Jeff, but...
[The Phantasm gestures about the room quickly]
Phantasm: ...this isn't the Pantheon anymore. The stakes are higher now. And quite frankly, you don't have an option anymore. We're in this now, and that's not changing unless one of us is dead. And that won't happen if we stick to the plan... and the plan includes you keeping us grounded.
[The Phantasm smiles.]
Phantasm: Trust me. C-3...
Black: Yeah, man.
Phantasm: You know the drill, right?
Black: I'm the wetwork guy. No big deal. I got this.
Phantasm: Good deal. Frank-
[Corey Black interrupts with a simple question.]
Black: -question, though... when do we get some weapons? It's been like, three days down here and I still haven't seen one damn samurai sword. What kinda outfit is this, anyway? Frank gets grenades and a machine gun and we're supposed to throw suplexes out there?
Phantasm: That's getting handled today... or as soon as they can fill our order, anyway. Frank...
[FPV nods slightly.]
FPV: What's up, bro.
Phantasm: As Cryogenix-Four, your mission-
FPV: -oh yeah, I'm ready. C-4, demolition expert in the house.
[Polar smiles.]
Phantasm: Yeah, I had a feeling you were ready.
FPV: Dude, I've been ready since you got back. When do we get to blow something up, anyway?
Phantasm: Soon, bro. Soon. We might get our first mission today, for all I know. Hopefully we get a few days to get our supplies in order, but I'm prepared for anything... worst case scenario we just pop over to ASAWRO and raid their armory.
FPV: ...ok, now we're talkin'. You think they got any blasting caps over there? I got this idea-
Phantasm: We'll get a chance to ask them here briefly, soon as this motherfucker calls... Orbit! I know you're ready, man...
[The Mack laughs.]
Orbit: Hell yes. Cryogenix-Five... the man with the silver tongue. Shit, this is gonna be more fun than I ever had with my clothes on.
[The serious mood is demolished in two seconds by the candor (and optimism) of Steve Orbit. Polar breathes a sigh of relief between chuckles.]
Phantasm: Damn straight, C-5. Then we've got Mr. Price...
[Jay Price just shakes his head.]
Price: You're a weird mother fucker, Polar. But I think I like it.
Phantasm: That's a good thing, man. Welcome to the team, Cryogenix-Six...
Price: Number Six, huh?
Phantasm: Yes sir. As C-6, your main functions will be infiltration and acquisition. It's not an easy job, per se, but none of our jobs are 'easy'... you're gonna need to be good under pressure and go to some desperate lengths sometimes to get the job done, but it's nothing you can't manage.
Price: Aha! So you must know that I'm a master of disguise!
[Phantasm looks to Corey Black, who just shakes his head and laughs.]
Black: Oh man, we are so fucked.
Phantasm: Nah, we're good... I get the feeling that Jay will be better at this than even he thinks he'll be.
Black: I think that's impossible, man.
Price: Thanks for the vote of confidence, Polar. Fuck you, Corey.
Black: See, right now he's wearing his drunken douchebag disguise. It's perfect, right?
Orbit: So THIS is what Pantheon meetings were like...
FPV: ...at least they had meetings. You remember when we got all of Genesis together and went camping?
[The Mack thinks for a second, then responds]
Orbit: ...did I forget about that, or-
FPV: -nah, it never happened. Roy shot it down four times. Same thing with the road trip idea-
[Phantasm whistles loudly.]
Phantasm: We've probably got another minute or two here before the boss calls, then we've got business to get to. Before that happens, I'll say this- as Cryogenix Prime, it's my job to make sure we get the job done and all get home in one piece. It's my job to make sure we have what we need. It's my job to make sure we're as well prepared, well armed and well trained as we possibly can be. But that all said, as Cryogenix Prime... I am in charge here. That does not change. That WILL not change. In WCF, we might be subject to the whims of Seth Lerch or Eric Price or whothefuckever, but in this bunker or out there in the field what I say goes. I hate to have to be 'the boss'; it's a shit job and everyone hates you for it even when you do a good job at it. But I have no choice, and as such neither do you. This may be this team's base, but it's also my home... and I thank each of you from the bottom of my heart for signing up to be in this team, but to be frank here- if you're not going to do what I need done, you're not going to last very long here. If you're lucky you'll just be asked to leave. If you're unlucky, you'll be killed pulling some cowboy shit and I'll have to meet your family under awkward circumstances.
[As Polar speaks, we find our view wandering around the room... we see the faces of these five men to whom the Phantasm speaks. Five men who come from all over, united for the first time under one flag... the unlikely synthesis of two of WCF's great stables made possible by the pervasive influence of the man before them.]
Phantasm: You five men... you are not here on accident. I know you may think so, Price, but I don't- I've never put much stock in coincidence. In our line of work- both of them, actually- coincidence is much rarer than you'd think. Life doesn't work that way... not for us. Each of you has a purpose... each of you is an integral part of this team. We're not the Pantheon anymore... we're not Genesis anymore. We're something else. We're what WCF needs to liberate it from the clutches of the evil empire. We're EPPW's worst nightmare made flesh, friends- we're Cryogenix.
Black: Fuckin' right.
Orbit: So what's the timetable for takin' down EPPW?
Price: I vote for now. Are we voting?
Purse: Seconded.
FPV: Just let me get my hands on Eric Price, just for five minutes... that's all I'd need. I'm gonna shove a grenade down his scrawny little neck.
Phantasm: I admire the enthusiasm, Franky, as always... but we've gotta be smarter than that. They'll expect us to come at them, guns blazing- ok, well, maybe they won't expect the guns... but they're expecting us. Here in the present tense, they're holding all of the cards. I hate to say it, but that's a battle we can't win... not like we want to, anyway. We're the good guys, remember? If we stormed the fortress and killed the king and his court, we wouldn't rule the kingdom... we'd be arrested for murder.
[Polar's words sink in, quieting the room. A small beeping noise comes from the conference table.]
Phantasm: But I'll tell you this... no matter how shit looks in the short-term, it won't stay that way. A great general knows it's not how many battles you win, but victory in the war itself that matters... and though I might not be 'great' per se, I am indeed our general. I see this in the longview, and I know what this team is capable of... and knowing all of that, I don't need a calendar or a crystal ball to tell you what's coming.
[The Phantasm pushes a button on the table's control panel; the three big screens come on.]
Phantasm: The future is coming... and we will be its heroes.
[The left and right screens default to a pale blue background, a dark blue 'Cryogenix' logo emblazoned across the image's otherwise dull surface. The center screen, however, has a different logo on it... one of an eagle's eye floating above the earth. Beneath this logo in large print are the letters 'ASA'.]
Voice: Please stand by for Director Frizzell.
Phantasm: Gentlemen... meet our 'benefactor'.
[The center screen shifts to a view of an office we've seen before... it could be any office in the world, honestly, if it weren't for two things visible in the picture. One would be a 'window' which is actually a liquid crystal display... the other would be the nameplate on the desk reading 'Director Frizzell'. The man behind the desk does not wear a sign reading 'head spook', but you get the feeling just from looking at him that he sleeps well at night despite spending his days ordering assassinations at the behest of well-meaning elected officials. His hair is thin and grey... his face is lean and sullen. His glasses are worn and aged, though they may still be capable of seeing through walls or killing a man from 25 feet away- in the business this man is in, looks are almost always deceiving.]
Frizzell: Well, then. Cryogenix Prime... it has been too long. Today was the day we'd agreed upon- I would ask if you'd readied a team, but it looks like you're one step ahead of me.
Phantasm: Yes sir, that I am. Would you like to meet the team?
[The Phantasm gestures behind him to the assembled unit. Frizzell brusquely interrupts.]
Frizzell: No, I'm sure you vetted them well... am I correct in that assumption?
Phantasm: Yes sir- I trust these men with my life.
Frizzell: Well then- might I remind you that if it was solely your life at stake the United States Federal Government wouldn't give a rat's ass. My question would be as to whether or not you trust these men with the safety and security of our nation, Cryogenix Prime-
Phantasm: -and to that I can only state that I have not met finer men in my entire life, sir. I'd put this team up against anything the world might throw at us, sir... and we'd win.
Frizzell: Very well. The only remaining question would be just what it is you need to get started, then... have you had your men fill out any requisition forms?
[The Phantasm smiles.]
Phantasm: Yeah, about that...
[Polar reaches down onto the seat of one of the unoccupied chairs, retreiving what appears to be most of a ream of paper.]
Phantasm: ...we ran out of forms.
[Adjusting his glasses, Director Frizzell turns to a terminal at his desk.]
Frizzell: Why don't you give me the broad strokes of it now, then... anything you'd deem 'critical'.
[Flipping a few pages, the Phantasm whistles.]
Phantasm: You asked for it...
---------------------------------------------
[Two days later... we see the Cryogenix team assembled in what looks to be an airplane hangar. The massive ceiling of the hangar stands open to the elements... the room seems almost out of place in the underground facility when lit by the sun's light. To the rear of the group, the Phantasm just smiles... before him stands his team, eagerly guiding someone or something toward them. Two men in beige jumpsuits pull pallet jacks toward our heroes... as they enter the frame, we can slowly see the massive crate-laden pallets they drag behind them. Amidst pleased murmurings from the Cryogenix team we hear the pallets carefully released from their bondage... as the Phantasm steps forth to inspect a clipboard, handed to him by one of the 'delivery guys', we see FPV and Corey Black set to work on a large crate with a claw hammer and a crowbar.]
Phantasm: Mmmm... yeah, this looks pretty much in order. Wait-
Delivery Guy: There's another load of it in the truck. We'll be back in ten.
[The delivery guys drag their pallet jacks out of frame; we hear the low rattle of heavy equipment on the concrete bunker floor mix with the strained cry of a dozen heavy-duty nails.]
FPV: FUCKIN RIGHT!
[Corey shrugs and begins prying another crate open; Frank extracts a large block of plastic explosive from the first crate and holds it up as if it were a piece of the god damn Triforce.]
Purse: Look, dude- it's even got your name on it.
[Polar laughs as he sees what Jeff has pointed out; sure enough, the block of powerful explosive does indeed have 'C-4' stenciled on it in bold yellow lettering.]
Phantasm: Hey, Jeff- give me a hand with this one, will you?
[Polar picks up a smallish crate, about the size of a bread box. As Purse crosses to lend a hand, Price and Corey Black begin digging through what looks to be most of a knife show. The Future Elements manage to swiftly get the heavy-duty crate apart; inside are two boxes of ammunition and an interesting-looking revolver trapped in a translucent metallic case. Polar eyes the handgun, nodding slightly... he looks over to Steve Orbit, who is now reviewing the clipboard.]
Orbit: Man, this is unreal- who pays for all this, anyway?
Phantasm: Your tax dollars at work, my friend.
Purse: ...what kind of gun is this?
Phantasm: It's civilian equipment, actually- this one's Steve's. There- that one's all you, bro.
[Polar points to a slightly smaller crate; as Purse inspects the box, Orbit comes over to inspect the weapon in the Phantasm's hand.]
Orbit: Yeah?
[Polar hands the case to Orbit; the Mack pops the box open and extracts a beautiful compact revolver, gripping the weapon approvingly.]
Orbit: ...shit, that'll work.
Phantasm: Carbon steel and polymer grip, black on black in color. Short barrel and small hammer in the back so it draws easy... it won't snag on your outfit. Five-shot revolver, so you're not gonna take on an army with it... but it's plenty for close-quarters work.
Orbit: If I do my job right, I probably won't even need it.
Phantasm: True... but if you do need it, you've got it.
Orbit: What does this thing shoot, anyway?
Phantasm: Therein lies the genius of this particular piece... this particular model is graded for both .45 Long Colt bullets and .410 bore shotshells.
[From across the room, FPV dashes over awkwardly clutching four bricks of C4]
FPV: Wait, let me see that- dude, that thing is sweet. We were just talking custom shotgun ammo the other day.. you think any of that would work in Steve's piece?
Phantasm: Absolutely. If it'll load into a .410 shell, this thing'll fire it. Of course we've got some larger model shotguns around here somewhere... or we should, anyway.
[Polar turns to inspect the crates; the first thing he sees is Jeff Purse standing close to his right holding an open crate about the size of a VCR. C-2 is gazing into the box, almost as if he's unsure of what he's looking at.]
Phantasm: I figured you might be less inclined toward a 'lethal' piece, so I had the ASA guys send over something special for you.
[Purse reaches into the box and pulls out an unusually shaped scoped pistol. The barrel is fairly thin... the base of the weapon's grip appears to have an aerator attached.]
Purse: It looks like a gun to me.
Phantasm: Oh, it is... but it doesn't shoot bullets. What you're holding there is a prototype dartgun.
Purse: ...dart gun? Really?
Phantasm: Yeah, really. The darts are small, about the size of a .22 slug... but they're titanium, and the gun uses some sort of pressurized air release system to fling the shit out of the suckers. I'll get Iceberg-Seven to analyze the toxin they use, but whatever it is... the reports they sent me say it can knock out a 250 pound man for two hours at minimum, and that's just from one 'dose'.
Purse: Wow... suddenly I feel a lot more certain that we could win the Tag Titles.
[Laughing at his friend's joke (or what the Phantasm assumed to be a joke), we see Polar digging into the lip of a crate with a prybar. With a heave, the leader of this unit tears the top from a long wooden box and gazes inside with a tremendous smile.]
Phantasm: Oh yes. Gentlemen, I do believe that we are in business.
[Reaching into the box, Polar pulls out two wide barreled long guns]
Phantasm: Now THIS is the stuff, boys.
FPV: What are those, shotguns?
Orbit: Craziest lookin' shotguns I've ever seen.
[Polar looks to Purse, who just stares puzzled. The Phantasm stifles a laugh.]
Phantasm: Come on, guys- y'all were in Genesis. Don't you know a Saiga when you see one?
[The laugh unstifles itself. Purse just looks at his tag partner with a grin]
Purse: How long have you been waiting to use that one?
Phantasm: ALL DAY. Jesus, it was killing me.
[The sound of metal on metal from behind the Phantasm steals the group's attention... when the four men look to the source of the noise, they see Jay Price swinging a machete. At Corey Black. This would be cause for alarm if Corey wasn't smiling - an unusual sight indeed - while easily fending off the thick blade with what appears to be a katana. Strewn around them are an absolutely ridiculous number of knives... hanging out of one of the opened crates is a pocketed belt festooned with small hatchets.]
Phantasm: ...how's the cutlery, fellas?
Price: I'm not a machete fan so much, but this thing is ridiculously light.
Black: All of that and you didn't even scratch this bitch.
Price: Fuck you- I totally nicked it. No way it's-
Black: See for yourself.
[Corey holds up the katana to the light; it shines so brightly that the group has to shield their eyes from the glare.]
Black: ...I guess just take my word for it. What the hell did they make this sword out of, anyway? Uru? Vibranium?
Phantasm: Something like that, man. Feel a little better now that you got a sword?
Black: Yeah... I do. I don't know about you guys, but I feel like we're ready to get to work.
-----------------------------------------
[Suddenly, we cut back to the War Room two days before- Steve Orbit steps in front of the group and puts his palms up in the air.]
Orbit: Hold up, hold up-- we're forgetting somethin', y'all. Somethin' important.
[...a lot of head scratching and chin rubbing, until Phantasm shrugs at Orbit with a question mark written on his face. Orbit cracks a smile.]
Orbit: Clothes, man! Threads. We gonna need some outfits for all this, right? I like my shit tailored, personally, if y'all got a guy... or I could fly my guy in from Cali, he's real good.
[Polar nods with the rest of the group. He turns to the display screen, watching the unwavering sneer of Frizzell- it doesn't waver, as expected.]
Phantasm: I think I can speak for our 'boss' here... call your guy, brah.
-----------------------------------
[We see an eighteen-wheeler backing up. It comes to a stop and Orbit jumps up onto the liftgate, sliding the door up. Inside, there are racks and racks of clothing-- everything is color coded in sections, from t-shirts and leisure suits to tuxedos. Beneath the racks is the shoe section-- rows of Jordans in every color combination, loafers, wingtips, flip-flops, dress shoes, you name it. Purse admires the color coordination from outside the truck.]
Purse: Is this everything?
[Orbit shakes his head and laughs.]
Orbit: Hell no, man-- this is my shit. Y'alls is comin' on the next truck.
[FPV and Polar Phantasm hop onto the truck with Orbit.]
FPV: Where are we gonna keep all this?
Phantasm: We might not have space in the bunker for... all this.
Orbit: It's cool, I figure we can just keep the trucks for now-- until we build somethin'.
[The truck driver walks onto the liftgate.]
Orbit: Thanks a lot, homie--
[Orbit pulls out a wad of cash and peels off two hundred dollar bills, handing them to the driver.]
Orbit: You done good.
Truck Driver: I gotta call a cab now, I guess- what's the address for this place?
[Polar and Purse shoot a quick glance towards Orbit. Orbit's eyes widen and his eyes dart back and forth, before he steps off the truck and pats the driver on the shoulder.]
Orbit: Tell you what, homie, I'll take you to the bus station. Wait 'til you see my Caddy, you ever rode in a '67 El Dorado before?
[Orbit walks away with the driver. Polar, Purse and FPV start looking through the clothes.]
Phantasm: Maybe we can rig something up... there's a ton of space down in the depths we're not using, but... hmm.
FPV: What you thinking?
Phantasm: I'm kicking myself for not having figured in Orbit's wardrobe. How much you want to bet he's got another truckload back in Oakland?
-----------------------------------
[As everyone is going through the threads that Orbit has had delivered, Jay Price is wandering around the living quarters looking a bit perplexed. Polar notices the look on his face and walks over to him.]
Phantasm: Looks like you got something on your mind, brah. What's up?
Price: All of this... it's a start.
Phantasm: A start? What are you talking about? We have everything we need, right?
Price: No, we're missing something...
[Polar looks around, trying to figure out what on Earth Price is seeing that he isn't.]
Price: Look, we're classy guys right? We wear nice clothes, we have meaningful conversations and we do the public a great service in the process, right?
[The rest of the group stops what they are doing as they look over at Price trying to figure out where he's going with this. Polar seems to be thinking the same thing when suddenly his face lights up in realization.]
Phantasm: I think I know exactly what you're getting at, Jay.
[Polar turns to the big screen]
Phantasm: Hey boss- how much wholesale liquor buying power does the ASA have? We're looking for an answer somewhere in the range of 'lots'.
-----------------------------------
Price: Aha! This is EXACTLY what I was talking about. Yes sir-
[The camera zooms in as Price reaches into a box and pulls out a bottle of twenty year old scotch.]
Price: Yes... this will do just nicely.
Orbit: You better not have ordered any of the cheap shit, Price.
Purse: Yeah, anything like that crap you tried to serve me at your tower and I'll beat you over the head with the bottle.
Price: Relax, guys... Dr. Price is in, and he's going to give you the perfect prescription after we get all of this sorted through.
[Price grabs a handcart and wheels the pallet of liquor over to the recently delivered and installed wet bar in the living quarters. As he sets about putting away the various bottles, Corey Black walks over to Polar.]
Black: Like I told you earlier... I have a bad feeling about this.
Phantasm: What, about Price? It's going to be okay, he's just excited... that's all.
[As Polar and Corey look on, Price pops open a bottle of champagne and begins drinking.]
Phantasm: ...I hope.
Black: Honestly, though... I'm just not sure he's cut out for this.
Phantasm: What, like you're somehow sure that the rest of us are?
Black: ...he's just got too much play in him... too much baggage, maybe. I don't know. I don't know that we can trust him. What d'you think?
[Price lowers the bottle from his lips and looks over to where Polar and Corey are watching.]
Price: My bad, you guys want some? It's fucking delicious.
[Black shakes his head to the negative; Polar can't help but smile.]
Phantasm: I think it's too late for us to be asking that question, dude.
[Black nods his head slightly in agreement, but still looks unsure as he turns and walks off. Polar watches Price for a few more seconds then walks off to do his own thing. Price shrugs his shoulders and then takes another long sip of champagne.]
Price: Who turns down Pol Roger? Bitches don't know what they're missing.
----------------------------------------
[Cut to down in the lab, where hunched over his little desk, FPV is busy constructing what appears to be bombs made out of...of all things...glowsticks. How those things are supposed to work is a mystery to probably everyone besides FPV himself. As he's absorbed into his work, into the lab comes Jeff Purse. Jeff comes to FPV and sits down on the table, looking to conversate with his new Cryogenix brother.]
Purse: Hey man, how's it hanging?
FPV: Same old same old...making bombs, bein' crazy with things...the usual.
Purse: Cool, cool. Look bro, I just came to talk about...
FPV: Sarah?
[Jeff is visibly surprised FPV managed to catch that.]
Purse: Yes, actually...
FPV: Look bro, I was just as betrayed by her as you were. I definitely feel you, bro. And we'll make it through this thing as a team bro. That bitch'll get her comeuppance soon bro, we just gotta be patient. But I do have to ask...did you guys ever...you know...fuck?
Purse: Well...a gentleman never kisses and tells.
FPV: Well its a good thing you aren't a gentleman. So?
Purse: No. We kissed. Thats it.
FPV: How was that?
Purse: Cold and unforgiving. Mostly.
FPV: Ha. That is what I would have thought it would have been like. But yeah man, don't worry bout it. That bitch is toast.
[Jeff gets up off the table, surprised at the amount of camaraderie coming from a man he once called his enemy.]
Purse: Wow, thanks man, that's actually pretty cool of you to say that.
FPV: Don't mention it.
Purse: Oh, and...I always thought you were the better of you and Roy Speede.
FPV: So did I my friend. So did I.
Purse: So...are we alright then?
FPV: You bet bro.
Purse: Thanks man...well...I will let you get back to work.
[The camera stays on FPV as Jeff walks off screen.]
FPV: I still think you're a boudle though.
[The camera cuts out just as we see a grenade being thrown in FPV's direction by Purse.]
-----------------------------------------------
[Bankston Hall... bedroom of the Unstable Elements. Polar enters the dark room, turning on a light with a quick pop of his hand against the wall. A low rumble from the bed encourages him to turn the light back off.]
Phantasm: Honey? Are you sick, or-
Nightmare: Sick of being in this bed... too tired to get up...
Phantasm: Come on... you know you're fine.
Nightmare: I am NOT fine- I'm fucking pregnant. What's so damn 'fine' about being swollen and nauseous all the fuckin' time?
Phantasm: Baby, you're pregnant with our child- that's a beautiful thing. Do you need me to sing 'Havin' My Baby' at you?
[We hear sheets rustle.]
Nightmare: I would stab you. Seriously.
[We hear Polar chuckle.]
Phantasm: THERE'S my girl. Come on- what's got you so upset?
[Quietly, Nightmare responds.]
Nightmare: I don't like being left out... left out of the team, left out of the ring... you know that. We're supposed to be team FIRST- man and wife, right? It should be me out there by your side instead of Jeff.
Phantasm: What's wrong with Jeff?
Nightmare: NOTHING, JESUS! I'm not- ugh, you're not LISTENING to me.
Phantasm: Baby, I'm listening to you as hard as I can. It just sounds like you're upset you can't be in combat while you're pregnant...
Nightmare: ...it's bullshit!
Phantasm: It's for the baby. After all the shit I went through to get you and the baby clear of the ASA-
Nightmare: -I know, I know...
Phantasm: -should've known you'd want back in anyway. That makes me a damn fool.
[He sits at the edge of the bed; she slides up to embrace him.]
Nightmare: That makes you MY fool, baby. You knew it'd be hard dealing with me... probably more than I did. I love this baby and I love you too, but...
Phantasm: ...you spend at least half of your time just wanting it out of you so you can go back to stabbing people for fun and profit.
Nightmare: Mmmhmm.
[As she cuddles with her husband, Nightmare mumbles happily.]
Nightmare: I just miss the bloodshed sometimes, baby.
[...A klaxon sounds from an intercom somewhere in the room... it is followed by the voice of Iceberg-Seven, which shakes Polar and Nightmare out of their awkward moment.]
Iceberg-Seven: Attention - there is a situation at location 'WCF Headquarters'. Attention-
[As the message repeats, Polar looks to his bride... in the pale light of the dim security lamp on the wall, we can see her face twist into depression and resignation.]
Nightmare: Go- your team needs you.
[He stands and approaches the door.]
Phantasm: So do you, baby... and vice versa. Tell you what: I'll be back in one piece, and I'll even bring you back a present.
[She pulls the covers over her head, mumbling.]
Nightmare: Whatever.
--------------------------------------------
[About twenty minutes later, we find ourselves in the Cryogenix Headquarters 'War Room' once more. The Phantasm stands before the massive video screens as the other five members of the team sit around the conference table looking at a holographic representation of WCF Headquarters in Oley, PA. On the screens, we can see a number of gold title belts and a large silver trophy.... we can also see what appears to be a stock footage clip of people going in and out of WCF HQ's lobby.]
Phantasm: Alright guys... looks like we've got us a mission. This one's not official, of course, as the ASA hasn't handed it down... but we're taking it anyway. We could use a warm-up... and I seriously doubt Eric Price has anything lined up as a defense mechanism for a case like this.
Purse: What's up, man? Somebody busted into WCF HQ?
Phantasm: Precisely that, C-2.
Orbit: So what'd they get? Files, cash?
Price: They stole Eric Price's collection of women's underwear, and we've got to get it back before the media finds out!
[The team shares a laugh; Polar shakes his head.]
Phantasm: If only it were that simple... or hilarious. No, from all appearances it looks like someone or someones got into the building past security and then breached the vault. Contents of the vault that are now missing? All of the original or retired WCF title belts... and the Trios Cup trophy. Now, you guys have probably heard - or maybe even started - the rumors about the Trios Cup being cursed. After last year, when Trios Cup winner Chad Evans disappeared... and this year, when Trios got cancelled after the disappearance of Morientes... well, a lot of people are starting to attribute the trophy itself with a 'curse'. Personally, I think that it's a load of bullshit- Crystal and I ate tapioca pudding out of that motherfucker on our honeymoon last year and nothing happened to us...
[Purse clears his throat loudly.]
Phantasm: ...ok, well... even then, I still think the 'curse' nonsense is straight bullshit.
Price: Wait... all of the old belts? All of them?
Phantasm: Apparently so, Six.
Price: Those bastards.
[Corey Black looks at Price with a deadpan stare. Price looks to him and continues]
Price: ...my Elite Title belt was in there!
Black: Poor you. Polar- uh, Prime, I mean- does this thing have the blueprints for HQ?
[Polar smiles.]
Phantasm: Ask it.
[Corey Black makes a face, then speaks deliberately off into the air.]
Black: Eye-Seven, do you have the blueprints for WCF Headquarters?
Iceberg-Seven: Yes, user 'Corey Black'. I have downloaded digital copies from the Office of-
Phantasm: You've gotta be specific when you talk to the computer, man-
Black: Right, right. Eye-Seven, bring up the blueprints please.
[Quickly, the holographic image of WCF HQ becomes a three-dimensional cutaway of the building's floorplan.]
Phantasm: -polite is nice, too. I like that.
Black: Check it out, Prime- this should be a quick trip. We send two in the front, two in the back... Six and I get up to the roof and we can come in through the windows like a god-damn SWAT team. We'll have all the angles covered.
Phantasm: I see where you're going there, and I like it- two problems, though. First of all, we don't have any eyes inside or outside the building... we don't even know that the criminals are still in Oley, much less in the building. This happened about an hour ago; we only know because Eye-Seven detected an alarm in the vault. All the cameras appear to be down... at least I can't get into them.
Black: Yeah? Well, what's the other problem?
Phantasm: Technically, you and Six quit WCF when Eric Price took over, right? So if he or his ilk see you on the grounds of HQ he might have you arrested.
[Price and Black both scoff at the comment.]
Black: Shit, he can try-
Price: -yeah, that's what I'm sayin'.
Phantasm: Price and them are one thing, but the cops are another- we're on their side, whether they know it or not, and I intend to keep us that way. If you do get 'arrested', let me handle it- I can make a phone call and the DOJ will take care of it in a big way. Provided you don't do anything that will preclude that... read me?
Price: Right.
Black: No big deal- I've had worse than a couple hours in a holding cell.
Orbit: What I'm thinking- if you don't mind, Prime-
Phantasm: Go 'head, Five.
Orbit: If we made enough noise, I'm talkin... like, full-on party outside or something, me and Two could sneak in through the back door over there and get up into the offices, no sweat. I been up there a buncha times, it'd take us like two minutes tops.
Purse: I'm liking this plan... if all the security is outside, we're in and out before anybody gets a chance to fire us or shoot us or whatever.
Phantasm: I'm liking it, too. Three, Six... can you guys muster us a distraction? Something big and loud and stupid...
FPV: Like a protest?
[Polar snaps his fingers and points to Frank]
Phantasm: YES. YES! Protest, perfect! That should be super-easy to set up, too- Eric Price is probably against so many things bleeding-heart liberal groups support that you could just call the Democratic Party's main office and act like we're at a high threat level until they send in the tree-hugging armies.
Black: And then...?
Phantasm: Then you and Jay work the protest as if you were hippies. Blend in with your surroundings and wait for any targets to escape the building... keep your eyes on security and use comms to let us know what's going on out there.
Black: Right. So we're lookouts, then.
Price: Shit- I thought this would be fun.
Phantasm: Trust me- when we find out where those belts are, you guys will get to have 'fun'. You two are our aces in the hole when it comes to 'painful extractions'. Frank and I will also be outside on lookout, but we're gonna scout around the back for clues... Four, you down for a little hide and seek?
FPV: Shit yeah, Prime-bro.
[Polar whips a key-shaped USB drive out of his pocket and tosses it to Jeff Purse.]
Phantasm: That's a 64 gig stick; it's pre-loaded with some of Iceberg-Seven's software. If you can get that thing into any of the computers on the network, it'll download us the surveillance video and anything else we need from the machines in there... plus I've got a little backdoor bug Eye-Seven whipped up for us on there. Soon as you load the drive it'll give us access to the WCF mainframe... whatever they know, we'll know. Whatever they see, we'll see.
Orbit: Now that's what I'm talkin' about.
Purse: So we'll finally know what Eric Price is up to?
Phantasm: That's the plan, man. Soon as you get it in the system we'll know who took the belts... Eye-Seven and I got our comms units Bluetooth-enabled this week, so we'll all have access to the data as soon as it does. Extra added bonus there would be we'd also have jury-rigged control of the systems so long as we're within range of the facility.
Price: Oh, man... can you turn on the sprinklers in Other Price's office?
Phantasm: No, Six...
[Polar gives a stern look as he puts a hand on Jay Price's shoulder.]
Phantasm: ...we all can. We all can.
[Polar smiles; Corey Black laughs mightily.]
Black: I fuckin' love this team.
Phantasm: Alright, team- everybody up and at 'em. Last check of our gear before wheels up-
Orbit: -yeah? We takin' my jet?
[Frank and Polar both laugh.]
Phantasm: Well... uh...
FPV: ...it's kinda our jet now, but...
Orbit: ...What did y'all do to my baby?
[Polar turns to the viewscreens.]
Phantasm: Eye-Seven- give us all three cameras in the hangar.
[The viewscreens change to three angles' view of a private jet... though we've no concept of what it once looked like, we can assume that it did not have as many moving parts.]
Orbit: ...my baby- y'all went and turned her into a god-damn war machine!
Phantasm: ...impressed?
[Orbit wipes a tear from his eye.]
Orbit: -I gotta say, man... yeah. Fuck if y'all ain't pimped my ride.
Phantasm: Four- give the man the run-down.
[Doing his best Xzibit impression, Frank Venable points to the video screens and begins running down specifications.]
FPV: Say dogg; we heard you liked it when bitches go fast... so we replaced your stock engines with supersonic military-grade jets.
Phantasm: And we also had the ASA people add some thrusters... stolen right off of a Harrier. Now this bitch can lift off from a dead stop or even hover in mid-air.
FPV: Oh, and bro- don't skip the best part. You see these things right here under the wing?
Orbit: -yeah?
FPV: Sidewinder missiles, straight off of an F-14 Tomcat.
Phantasm: Actually, I was going to say that the best part is we've added a hybridized engine- this thing runs on rocket fuel at high speeds, but cruising or hovering it'll burn diesel... or biodiesel, even, if we can't find a reliable place to pump gas.
Orbit: Not a lot of truck stops have a 'jet refueling' area out back.
Phantasm: That's cool, too- we also took the battery and drive system out of a hybrid Urban Assault Vehicle the DOJ's prototyped... we can't fly with that alone, but we can at least run all the internals off of the batteries and the motion of the jet will keep the battery charged.
Orbit: ...damn, y'all- guess I'm gonna have to give this bitch a name, now!
[FPV reaches into a canvas sack marked "OH SHIT, SON!" in bright red stenciled letters. He hands a kid's plastic pail to Orbit, who looks inside speculatively.]
Orbit: Shotgun shells?
FPV: Haven't had a chance to test them out yet, but there's a couple flavors of death in there Polar and I worked out this week. Since that revolver you got can shoot .410 bore along with the .45LC ammo, I started working on stuffing some fun stuff into .410 shells. We'd already loaded up a few 12-gauges, and they worked fine... you should see the shooting range we made up downstairs. Some of the targets have holes in them...some of them are straight up melted to shit.
[Orbit holds up a green-colored shell and shakes it a bit, hearing a rattle. Frank grabs his hand with an 'oh no' stretched silently on his face.]
FPV: You don't want to make those angry. Not the green ones.
[Frank reaches into the pail and pulls out a white-colored shell]
FPV: The green ones are full of little plastic bubbles... bath beads, almost. There's two different kinds of chemicals in there- on impact with whatever your target it, the two mix and react... violently.
Orbit: What, like an explosion?
FPV: Actually, more like a full-on meltdown.
Phantasm: Half of the 'beads' contain sodium perchloride, half of them contain a dilution of hydrochloric acid. When the two mix, they form a lovely little caustic compound somewhere toward the 'oh fuck' end of the pH scale that science calls perchloric acid.
FPV: We just call it 'face-melting awesomeness.'
Orbit: ...fuck, y'all weren't kidding- now I'm scared to even touch these mother fuckers.
FPV: Meh, hydrochloric acid ain't shit, really. It's corrosive, but you can neutralize it with baking soda even. Considering that, the two chemicals are mostly safe... unless you mix them... and stick your hand in them.
Phantasm: Or drink them.
FPV: Or use them as lube. You know- anything that involves skin or organs you're looking to keep. The beads should keep everything contained until you fire the shot... just make sure you don't take any of it in the eyes, right? Speaking of your eyes- the white ones are my own variation on the 'confetti' shotshell mixed with the old school 'flashbang' grenade. They're full of black powder, magnesium filaments and white phosphorous powder. I call 'em 'flashbooms'... they're pretty loud, but they're STUPID bright. You'd rather be looking at the sun than the end of that gun when you fire these fuckers. I'm working on a variation for my piece, but... it's hard to shove anything but powder into these little nine-mike-mikes.
[As Frank fills Orbit in on the contents of his new shotgun shells, the Phantasm steps over to Jeff Purse who is busily loading and unloading his new 'gun'.]
Phantasm: You like the new piece?
Purse: ...I love it, man. I mean, I'm not gun people... never have been. We've got a couple shotguns on the farm, so I've shot some... but it's never been something I really looked forward to, you know? Having to shoot someone just kinda seems like cheating to me.
[From behind them, Corey Black pipes up.]
Black: Fuckin' right. We're fighters- warriors. Why the fuck would I need a gun? There's no honor in that. Not when I could use one of these.
[Corey pulls a gleaming katana from its scabbard at his back.]
Black: This is a gentleman's weapon.
Phantasm: Well, ninja were also known to use katana... and they were far from gentlemen, bro.
Black: ...stop stepping on the point I'm trying to make here. Jeff doesn't need a gun if he doesn't want one. I got plenty of swords and axes and shit, dude- take your pick.
[Jeff picks up the scoped dart-pistol, looking at it with admiration.]
Purse: I don't know, Creeps- I'm sittin' here staring at this fine piece of spy tech that our government has entrusted me to field test for them... and that's making me think maybe I'll stick with what I got.
[Jay Price comes over with a metal ammo box full of throwing daggers.]
Price: Get 'em while they're hot, boys!
[He picks up a handful of the stainless steel blades, spinning three of them (by their ringed ends) at a time around his pointer finger.]
Black: Stop fuckin' around with my kunai, man.
Price: Hey- they're OUR kunai! How many you want?
Black: I'm good with these.
[Corey sheaths his katana, then pulls a vicious hunting knife from a concealed sheath at his belt.]
Phantasm: Six- you want a pistol or anything?
Price: Nah, I'm way better with these than a gun.
[Jay Price shoves a handful of the daggers into a pocket on the inside of his tuxedo jacket.]
Phantasm: You two might want to bring some spare outfits, too... just in case 'heavy metal t-shirt and jeans' and 'full tuxedo' stick out in a crowd of protesters.
Orbit: Oh, them two are gonna stick out like tweakin' mofuckas in church. Come on, we'll scare y'all up some neutral disguises-
Price: -disguises, eh?
[Jay Price begins rubbing at a beard he does not have.]
Black: I've probably got something.
Price: To the disguise room!
[Before three of the team could head off, Polar stops them by raising a hand.]
Phantasm: We're almost done. Frank- you got the glowstick grenades?
[FPV holds up the 'OH SHIT SON!' sack and nods excitedly.]
FPV: Yep, and I got about six clips too just in case shit gets woolly out there.
Phantasm: And I got Betsy... and I think I'll bring one of those shotguns, maybe. Now that we've gotten armaments out of the way- two more things we'll all need. First of all- these.
[Polar reaches into a pocket and withdraws five wallet-shaped objects. He flips them around the room to his team; they open them and stare in disbelief.]
Phantasm: Keep those on you at all times, but be discreet with those- we don't want anyone seeing them unless they have to. 'Need to know basis' is the term-
Price: ...'license to kill'. Holy shit... this is the happiest moment of my life.
Phantasm: Licensed to kill- but not licensed to be a jackass. Those IDs are issued by the DOJ to prove that we're official with Uncle Sam; that said, our position is as COVERT operatives. You read? Put those someplace safe for when you need them, but to almost everyone we encounter out there we're just six pro wrestlers... or better than that, just six random dudes.
Black: Still- I kinda want to post this on Facebook or something.
FPV: I know, right?! Shit, my high school girlfriend would die. Bitch talks about how she married a doctor- bitch, you married a proctologist! You could've had agent double-oh-boudlekiller... but NOOooooOOooo, you had to-
[Phantasm whistles piercingly. All of the others stop and look to him, some more angrily than others.]
Phantasm: ...and one last thing- those wristbands you're wearing, the ones that look like watches. They're watches, sure... but they also keep track of your position, your vitals, your mood even. They're our physical and digital link to each other and Iceberg-Seven; don't ever take them off, and try like hell to keep them from getting busted out there. If you've got a question, Eye-Seven will answer it... if you need computer assistance, it's there for you. If you need translations, Eye-Seven's got you covered. Also, it's most useful for keeping track of our positions in the field as well as quiet communication... if you press the 'light' button at the bottom of the right side, you'll notice a small keypad comes out of the 'watch'. If you can't speak, text. There's no excuse for going without contact, boys- we've got all the tools in the world to keep in touch out there. Worst case, we've got our cellphones. Any questions?
[Before anyone can raise any questions, Polar continues.]
Phantasm: Good. Handle any last-minute packing you have to do; we'll be gone for less than a day, most likely, but bringing nightclothes would be wise just in case we get waylaid somehow. Meet me in the hangar when you're finished - wheels up in fifteen minutes, Cryogenix!
[As the Phantasm leaves the room, grabbing a Saiga-12 shotgun as he passes a table covered in guns, he turns a corner and heads out of sight... then out of earshot.]
Orbit: Does he know how to fly my plane?
[The others shrug.]
Purse: Wouldn't put it past him.
-----------------------------------------------------
[The team lands in Reading, PA under the guise of night. All six exit the plane, and by order of Polar Phantasm, split up into three pairs; Steve Orbit and Jeff Purse, Corey Black and Jay Price, Polar himself and FPV. A few hand signals later and the three sets are off in rental cars provided at the runway. It's as if this was a coordinated plan. We stick with Price and Black, Jay driving, Corey in the passenger seat admiring some knives.]
Price: Infiltration, eh? Where does Phantasm get this intel?
Black: I don't really know, but I'm sure glad he did. What are the chances there's a protest in front of the building when we need to be in there?
Price: It's good for us, but bad for whoever we're looking for. If they're in that building, they're gonna be trapped like rats...
Black: ...we can kill rats.
Price: Dude, I'm pretty sure with these IDs Polar got us we can shoot white rhinos with bazookas if we want.
[Jay pulls into a parking lot across the street from WCF HQ, while the rest of the team continue on out of view. Corey places a few daggers and knives in strategic places, hiding them from view. The two men exit their vehicle and head straight to the trunk, where they put on prosthetics to hide their identities. We see FPV and Polar pull around behind the building; Orbit and Purse pull in beside them. Polar and Purse exchange a nod.]
Phantasm: Alright team- progress report.
Purse: C-2... on the scene.
[Back across the compound, we see Corey Black wearing a curly fake goatee.]
Black: C-3. I don't like this plan, suddenly.
Phantasm: You can do this, C-3.
FPV: C-4, entering the bush.
[We cut back to Polar and Franky; FPV is climbing into a hedge. Polar stifles a laugh.]
Orbit: C-5... and a rear entry is imminent.
[We cut to Orbit and Purse; they're walking without any hurry toward the back door of the compound.]
Price: C-6... hippies. It had to be hippies.
[We cut back to Black and Price... they are standing inside a large crowd of hippies and trendy activists, most of whom are wearing 'PETA' shirts.]
Phantasm: If you two make any friends... check them for crab lice first. That's an order. Prime out.
[With a deep breath, the Phantasm dashes to catch up with FPV. He dives into the hedge as if it were an opponent, crashing through branches as he does.]
---------------------------------------------
[Steve Orbit and Jeff Purse are approaching WCF HQ. The crowd and commotion surrounding the front of the building has allowed them to reach the rear of the building undetected.]
Purse: All these years I've worked here, I don't think I've ever seen the back of the building.
Orbit: I been back here like a million times. Come on--
[Orbit and Purse position themselves with their backs to the building.]
Purse: Ok... we're here. Now what? How are we gonna get in? Is there a window or someth--
Orbit: Even better. There's a back door, and the lock is busted on it. I don't even think Eric knows about it yet.
Purse: How did you find out about it?
[Orbit smiles.]
Orbit: Man, entering back doors is my specialty. I used to bring groupie bitches in through here all the time-- bitches love the back door.
[Purse tries to contain his laughter.]
Orbit: What?
Purse: Nothing, man, let's go.
Orbit: I'm tellin' you man, I got so much ass off the, "yeah, let me give you a tour of the headquarters" line.
[Purse follows Orbit towards the door.]
Purse: It's just... I'm more of a front door guy, personally.
Orbit: Well, shit-- don't knock it 'til you try it, homie.
[They reach the door. To Purse's surprise, he pulls the handle and it swings open. Orbit smiles, Purse nods and they head inside.]
------------------------------------------------
[Inside, Jeff and Steve Orbit are running through the halls of WCF HQ. They stop at a poster of Sarah Twilight, and Jeff pulls it off the wall. Orbit laughs sarcastically.]
Orbit: You taking that with you for later, homie?
Purse: ...I need something to piss on later.
[Orbit makes a 'damn!' face- you know the one]
Orbit: Oh... aight.
[They continue running through the halls. Scene cuts to Jay Price and Corey Black outside, standing within the protest. Corey looks pissed off about being there, Jay Price is checking out the woman standing in front of them.]
Price: These protest ladies are fucking hot, man.
Black: Is that all you think about?
Price: FUCKING A! Dude, I can see like... five visible thongs, right now. Six- wait, that's a dude. Still kinda counts, though-
[Corey gives Price a deadpan stare.]
Price: What? Shit- I don't even care that there's a dude wearing a thong out here. There is that much hot girl ass. I'm digging this ratio, man...
Black: Crab lice, Six. Crab lice.
[Almost instinctively, Jay Price scratches himself a bit. The protest leader taps the mic, getting ready to make an announcement.]
Protest Leader: Ladies and gentlemen, I have to say that I am APPALLED at the BULL HOOKEYS this... EPPW has shown us in the last few weeks! They have been using animals like they were some kind of…
[Someone in the crowd gives an assist]
Crowd Member: Animals?
Protest Leader: ANIMALS… and this one in particular has been especially abused! He has been fed nothing but popcorn and booze for the last week...!
Camel: HUMP DAYYYYY!
Protest Leader: I ask you, America- WHERE IS THE OUTRAGE?!
[Jay Price taps Corey Black's chest with authority- Black slaps him on the back of the head.]
Black: Don't touch me, man-
Price: Look, dude- that's my camel!
Black: No it's not-
Price: No, dude- THAT’S MY FUCKING CAMEL!! HEY!
Black: ...I want to give everyone here a burning hammer. This is worse than Woodstock '98...
Price: THEY STOLE MY CAMEL!!
Black: Ugh.
[Cut to Franky and Polar walking around outside dusting for fingerprints. Why? Because mother fuckers are looking for clues, that’s why! You better ask somebody...]
Phantasm: Fuck man, why does finding clues have to be so dirty... Oh shit.
FPV: What?
[Frank looks to Polar- he's been stunned by something.]
Phantasm: I'm turning into Jeff.
FPV: Ha... well, you aren’t a boudle like him... so there's that.
Phantasm: Jeff isn’t a boudle! Jeff's- god, I can't believe we're having THIS discussion.
FPV: Yeah… hey look at this!
[Frank rushes over, picking up something from the ground.]
Polar: What is that?
FPV: It’s a… piece of bacon. Do you think its important?
Polar: I don’t know man. Better bag that shit though.
FPV: Ok. Man its…awkwardly big. Alright... I put it in this bag...
Phantasm (muttered): That’s what she said.
FPV: Did you just- yeah. You are more and more like Jeff everyday.
Phantasm: Dude, shut up. It's creepin' me out...
[They bag up the bacon and we cut back to Jeff and Steve inside the building. They come across a door marked “DON’T FUCKING ENTER—SECURITY”. They shrug and try to enter. Locked. Steve takes out a small, diamond encrusted lockpick and easily opens the door. Jeff gives him a small round of applause. Security monitors line the walls inside, no security guards though. Oh well. As Jeff inserts the key-shaped USB drive, the computer spins up and begins running Iceberg-Seven's programs. As for Jeff and Steve, they begin watching the security tapes.]
Purse: I wish Jay Price was here right now.
Orbit: What? I ain’t good enough company?
Purse: No, its not that. He just always has popcorn on him. And we might be here for a while.
Orbit: Oh. Yeah. That would be good.
[Cut to Price and Black outside at the protest.]
Protest Leader: And the superstar they have…Honey Baked Hamilton. He is comprised of dead pig!!!
Crowd Member: That's an Internet rumor-
Protest Leader: YOU STAY OUT OF THIS!
Black: He isn’t a superstar... maybe a jobber. I've never fuckin' heard of him.
Price: I thought you knew- he's that new jobber that smells like honey ham.
Black: You been hangin' with your jobber friends again, Price?
Price: Hey- I'm not a jobber! YOU'RE a jobber.
[Corey Black gets loud, suddenly]
Black: What did you just call me?!
[They notice everyone is looking at them.]
Protest Leader: Excuse me gentlemen... do you have something you want to add to this protest?
Price: Yeah you animal humping fuck, that’s my camel!
Protest Leader: Excuse me sir!? You are the one who has treated this camel so poorly?
Camel: YEAHHHHH! JAY... JAY JAY JAY JAY JAY WHAT DAY IS IT, HUH?!
Price: I hate that fucking camel.
Black: Looks like I get the chance to fuck up some protest jobbers...
[Why? Because all the protesters have turned toward Jay and Corey now…and they look pretty pissed off. Jay and Corey nod at each other, cracking their knuckles. Cut to FPV and Polar outside the building, still dusting and looking for clues.]
FPV: So I was like, fuck you Speedle. And he started to cry.
Phantasm: Oh, is that how that went?
FPV: Yeah, at least that’s how I remember it.
Phantasm: DUDE, LOOK!
FPV: What is that?
Phantasm: It’s a gang handkerchief. I don’t know what a gang would be doing around here, though. Better bag it. But do it slowly…we don’t want to ruin it.
FPV: That’s what she said.
[Phantasm smiles as Franky bags the handkerchief. Meanwhile, in the security room…]
Purse: Dude, look.
[Orbit looks and sees what Jeff is pointing at... two WCF Jobbers, Honey “Baked” Hamilton and Cryboy McEmo, open the back door and let a group of local gang members into WCF HQ after hours. Much as Orbit and Purse had done moments before, they just opened the door and let them in.]
Purse: Why is it so easy to get into this building!?!?
Orbit: Man, why is it so easy to get into yo momma?
Purse: Really, a "your mom" joke? Now? Come on, Steve. Radio the guys, tell them whats up.
Orbit: Haha, alright man, calm down. Shit, you never play the Dozens?
[Purse just stares.]
Orbit: Yo, Three, you there?
[Cut to Corey Black and Jay Price. The protesters are all sprawled out around them, laying in defeat and agony. Corey picks up his radio.]
Black: Yeah man, whats up? Uh huh…yeah. Oh yeah. Alright, we've got this... see you whenever you catch up to us. Six-
Price: What?
Black: Some local wanna-bes, the Local Gangsters. They broke in, got some jobbers to get 'em past security.
Price: What's the name of the local gang?
Black: I just fucking told you, The Local Gangsters!
Price: Oh…well. Well then. I'm going to radio Prime about these 'Local Gangsters', then.
Black: Alright.
Price: ...you're serious?
Black: Fuck, just call Polar already!
[Cut to Polar and Franky. Polar is on the radio with Price, Franky is on the radio with Orbit. They look at each other and say, at the same time…]
FPV/Phantasm: The Local Gangsters?
[Polar's 'watch' beeps an alert. Iceberg-Seven's voice rings out.]
Iceberg-Seven: Located probable headquarters of 'Local Gangsters' within a .3 square mile radius. GPS coordinates to follow.
FPV: Oh man- if what Three and Six did to those PETA fools is any indication, those Local Gangsters guys are fucked.
[Polar breaks into a dash]
Phantasm: Shit, we better hurry- this might be a bloodbath!
[Frank chases]
FPV: Hey, wait up- I got the keys, remember?!
-----------------------------------
[Cut to inside a small building. This small structure been populated by what appears to be a gang of criminals, all dressed in black turtlenecks, ski-mask and cargo pants. Some of the men are carrying large duffel bags containing unknown items. Among these men, two stick out. One of them, notably more scrawny then the others, has visible mascara around his eyes, some of which has gotten onto his ski-mask. He is panting heavily, as if he had just run a marathon across the entire Mexican border. The other gentleman is much more muscular than his tiny companion, however, he has foregone wearing the turtleneck the others are wearing. In fact, he's foregone wearing a shirt at all, exposing his massive amounts of chest hair. He too is panting, also less so then his partner. Between heavy breaths, the tiny man speaks.]
Tiny: What...the fuck...did we just do?
Big Guy: What do you mean?
[In a fit of passion, the tiny one rips off his ski-mask, showing that he is legendary WCF jobber Cryboy McEmo. He starts tearing up, his tears messing up the heavy amount of black eyeliner he has on.]
Cryboy: WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WE JUST FUCKING...god...WE JUST FUCKING BROKE INTO THE PLACE.
[The other man removes his ski-mask to reveal that he is Honey "Baked" Hamilton, another well known jobber. He seems to have removed his mask more because it was starting to get hot, as he is sweating profusely.]
Hamilton: Of course, that was the plan you idiot!
Cryboy: BUT WAS IT REALLY NECESSARY TO SHOOT OUT THOSE CAMERAS?! OR TO BLOW THE FUCKING VAULT WITH DYNAMITE?!
Hamilton: Now I admit that we might've gone overboard a little bit...
[One of the criminals overhears this and gets indignant on the two jobbers.]
Criminal: Hey motherfucker, that's life! Deal with it.
Hamilton: Did I ask you, jackass? Just give us the bags and we'll be out of here.
Criminal: What if I don't want to? What if I want to keep all this golden junk for myself? Could make a couple thousand dollars off this stuff.
[Instinctively, Hamilton cracks his knuckles, ready for a fight. However, as he approaches the bags, all of the other criminals pull out their guns, pointing directly at him. In between sobs, Cryboy manages to squeak out something audible.]
Cryboy: Let's just go, it's not worth it.
[Thinking quickly, Hamilton grabs Cryboy by the wrist and runs out the building with him in tow... they get about forty feet outside of the building before the enter the treeline. As their pace slows slightly, the two jobbers celebrate slightly... only to be met with a pair of hard punches to the face.]
Cryboy: UUuhhhhh-
[Cryboy passes out. Honey "Baked" Hamilton manages to stay concious long enough to see an angry tag team not two feet from him- as he identifies the faces of Corey Black and Jay Price, another strike to the face takes him down and blanks him out.]
Black: Looks like we found what we were looking for, alright- hey Prime, we've got two jobbers down over here. I repeat, the jobbers... are down.
[Jay Price looks at the two downed jobbers speculatively.]
Price: They're dead, Jim.
[Corey sighs]
Black: Nah, they're just sleepin'. Lazy fuckin' jobbers.
--------------------------------------------
[Scene opens outside what appears to be an abandoned building. The team is assembled, hidden behind a dumpster in the alleyway next to the building. Corey Black and Jay Price are filling in the rest of the crew.]
Price: ... so we just have to figure out how we're gonna get in there and get them back.
Black: I say we just go in. Balls deep.
Orbit: Man, leave this shit to me-- give me five minutes, I'll be out with the belts, and ain't nobody gotta get hurt.
Phantasm: What are you thinking? A con job?
[Orbit flashes a smile.]
Orbit: Let's just say y'all are lucky I brought some extra spending money on this trip.
[Jay Price steps forward.]
Price: I got your back, Steve. I'll go in with you.
[Orbit nods.]
Orbit: Just be cool in there, alright?
Price: Dude, I invented cool.
[Orbit shakes his head]
Orbit: Man, save your lyin' for the women.
Phantasm: Con job, though- I don't know, Five. These guys have gone through a shit storm to steal this stuff. I don't think they'll just hand the belts over. We might need that spending money to buy this shit back off eBay.
[Orbit's smile returns... Polar smiles right back, sensing Orbit's confidence.]
Orbit: Polar, trust me-- I got this.
[Corey shoots a glance at Polar-- almost saying "this is what I was talking about"-- but Polar agrees to let Price go ahead with Orbit. Orbit leads Price towards the front door of the boarded-up building. The door rattles as Orbit knocks. After a few moments, a voice is heard inside the door.]
Voice: Who's there?
Orbit: Hey, I'm from the WCF, uh-- loss prevention. Let me speak to the man around here.
[The door swings open-- a shotgun is shoved in Orbit's mouth. Orbit quickly puts his hands up and glances at Price, who shakes his head. Orbit and Price are grabbed by two men and tossed inside the building. The room is dimly lit with a single flourescent light flickering above. There's a peice of plywood set up on some milk crates-- a makeshift desk, and sitting behind it is presumably the man in charge. Orbit and Price are put on their knees in front of him, guns to the back of their heads. Orbit begins to plead.]
Orbit: Look man, we just here to negotiate, that's all.
[Orbit goes to reach inside his pocket-- the man behind him pumps his shotgun, causing Orbit to freeze.]
Orbit: I'm just goin' for the cash, relax!
[Orbit pulls out an envelope-- he opens it, showing a large amount of money to the boss.]
Orbit: You guys have somethin' that belongs to our company. We were told to come here and pay as much as you asked-- name your price, you got it. There's plenty more where this came from.
[The men ease up on Price and Orbit, and they are allowed to stand. Orbit tosses the envelope on the table, as the boss begins to count the money.]
------------------------------
[Cut back out to outside the criminals' hideout, and the atmosphere is so tense you could cut it with a knife. All remaining Cryogenix members are hidden from view. Polar is hiding inside some nearby bushes, peeking through the leaves to see both Jeff and FPV sneaking on both sides of the building, Jeff taking the left and FPV taking the right, ready to spring into action in case shit goes south. Not too far from there, Corey has indulged in his inner ninja and has taken refuge in a nearby tree, not but 6 feet away from Polar. Everyone is dead silent, even the usually excited FPV is calm as a cucumber right now. He and Jeff keep a close eye out in case Jay and Steve need extra arms. Behind them, Polar and Corey lock gazes as Polar shoots a nod in Corey's general direction, he can't tell exactly where he is, what with all the trees and all. Corey catches the nod and brings his watch to his mouth, speaking as quietly as possible.]
Black: Three, in position.
Phantasm: Alright Five, Six... we're all in position on the exterior. Either get out here with the belts or give us a signal to come in after you...
FPV: ...and if we do, trust me- we won't be kind to these fuckers.
---------------------------------------
[Back inside of the criminals' hideout, things are still quite tense but the men that had been holding shotguns to the back of Orbit and Price's heads have taken a step back and lowered their weapons. The boss finishes counting up the last of the cash that Orbit had tossed to him and he begins to slowly fan his face with the stack of money.]
Boss: This stack feels a little on the light side, my friend. These belts should be worth five K more, easy.
Orbit: You want more money? We can do more. You need it all in cash, or what? Just sayin', bonds- untraceable, could go up in value. Your call, man.
Boss: I'd prefer cash, honestly. Call it the immigrant in me- I just want to see the cash. Show me the money, right?
Orbit: Yeah, good movie. I liked that one. Check it- reaching into my pocket for another envelope. We cool?
[The boss waves to the man behind Orbit and Price. Steve holds one of his hands up in the air as he reaches into a pocket and pulls out another envelope of cash before tossing it onto the desk. The boss takes a long look at both Orbit and Price, as if to study them, before reaching for the envelope. He opens it up, takes a look inside and then, without counting the money inside, nods at his men. Both move around Orbit and Price and take a place on either side of the desk as the boss stands up from his chair.]
Boss: All right my friends, I do believe we can do business.
[Both Price and Orbit let out a sigh of relief as the boss turns to walk away from the desk. Price reaches over and slaps Orbit on the back.]
Price: Fuck yeah. Nice work there, Five.
[The look on Orbit's face turns to alarm, then becomes a subtle stare. He whispers quietly to Price, hiding his tone as best he can.]
Orbit: Dude, keep it together until we're out of here.
Price: Lighten up, you heard the guy!
[Price starts to reach into his pocket for his flask, causing one of the men holding a shotgun to get nervous. He raises his shotgun and raises it at Price's head.]
Guard: Stop! Put your hand back down!
Price: Relax, hombre, I'm just going for the good stuff.
[Price, completely unaware of the double meaning of his statement, continues reaching for his flask. The other guard raises his shotgun at Price's head and both men begin screaming at him to put his hand back down. The boss stops walking away from his desk and turns back to the action.]
Boss: What is this? A double-cross?! Local Gangsters, get 'em! NOW!
[Several more men rush into the room and quickly surround Price and Orbit.]
Price: What the hell, man?
Orbit: Six, you dumb mother-
Boss: You think you can just pull a weapon on me while I have my back turned?
Price: I was just- It's not a weap-
Boss: Silence! You think I'm a fool? No my friend, you are the fool. I am not a fool. Say it!
[Orbit and Price respond together.]
Orbit and Price: You are not a fool.
Boss: Yes. We were going to do business together, but now? Now I'm going to take your money, walk out of this room and leave the two of you to my men. What do you think about that, fools?
Price: I'm telling you- this is just a mistake!
Boss: The only mistake was you two thinking you could outsmart me.
[The boss gives his men a nod of the head and then walks out of the room. As he pulls the door shut behind him, the two men holding shotguns step through the circle of guards and stand in front of Orbit and Price.]
Guard: So....you want it in the head or the chest?
Orbit: Six- fuck man, look what you did-
Price: It wasn't my fault!
Orbit: The hell it wasn't!
Price: Look, damnit-
Guard: Shut up!
[Two of the men standing behind Price and Orbit step forward and push them roughly down to their knees. The men holding the shotguns step forward and place the barrels on their foreheads.]
Guard: I hope you've made peace with God my friends.
[The men move their fingers to the triggers of the guns when suddenly the windows of the room break in. Glass shatters everywhere as the men turn their attention to the commotion. Price and Orbit look back and forth at each other as we see several of FPV's glowstick grenades bounce into the middle of the room. The guards all scramble to get out of the way; Orbit pushes himself up and dives behind a busted up sofa. Price tries to push himself up but stumbles and falls back to the ground. Without warning the glowstick grenades explode open, spraying the bright neon paint all over the place. The guards, along with Price, are covered in the stuff. Some of the guards rush out of the room, obviously expecting more to come. Two of the guards that took a decent amount of paint to the eyes are stumbling around the room. Orbit emerges from behind the sofa and can't help but let out a stifled laugh as he sees Price covered in paint.]
Price: Dude, help me with these clowns!
[Price pushes himself up to his feet and tackles one of the guards into the makeshift desk as Orbit draws his piece, firing a blast into the closest thug. Price finishes off his guy with a few well placed punches to the head and then climbs back over the desk. Orbit tries not to laugh as Price unsuccessfully tries to wipe some of the paint from his face.]
Price: DAMNIT FRANK! I...I GOT FUCKING SLIMED!
[The guy Orbit blasted in the face thrashes about, screaming- he pulls a chunk of skin from his face and gurgles in horror. The thug passes out on the floor, possibly from shock.]
Orbit: Could be worse, though. You could be that mother fucker.
[Cue to back outside of the enemies' hideout where FPV has his MP5 trained on the head of a criminal that was unlucky enough to run out of the building and right into him. There's a bit of a standoff between the two men as the criminal refuses to put down his weapon.]
FPV: I'm telling you, you better put that gun down.
Criminal: No, you put your gun down!
FPV: I'm not going to stand here and do this all day. Put your gun down.
Criminal: No, you!
FPV: Fine! You want me to put my gun down? Here you go. See?
[Frank leans over and places his gun on the ground, but in the process quickly removes a grenade from his pocket and gives it a soft toss toward the criminal. The grenade hits a small pebble and takes a wicked hop- the criminal sees the grenade and drops his gun in a panic, diving off to one side behind some metal barrels. FPV laughs as he picks his MP5 back up, scooping up the grenade casually as he kicks the criminal's gun away.]
FPV: Hey, dumbass- real grenades don't bounce like that.
[Frank bounces the rubber dummy grenade and takes a step toward the bushes. As Frank catches the dummy grenade, the criminal springs toward his gun, landing two feet away from it. As he strains to reach the pistol, he hears FPV's voice behind him-]
FPV: BOOM-
[-and when he turns, we see a 9mm slug enter the guy's forehead.]
FPV: Headshot.
[The criminal drops to the ground, dead. FPV tucks the grenade in his pocket, shrugging.]
FPV: Some people have no appreciation for props.
[We then cut to Polar Phantasm, who is in the middle of a standoff of his own. Polar has his .25 trained on the guy standing in front of him, but appears to be outmatched as the guy is holding a sawed off shotgun.]
Phantasm: You have no idea what you're dealing with, sir- I suggest you put down that scattergun before you get yourself killed.
Criminal: I got two shells ready to go- you just got that little pea-shooter.
Phantasm: You've got a gun built to spread shot, and you're just far enough away from me for that to be an issue. Meanwhile, this mean little bitch can put a .25 round through reinforced steel. Maybe you live- but I'd have to miss. And I don't miss.
Criminal: You might if you're fulla buckshot.
[Polar's eyes quickly shift; he blinks, then cautiously nods. The criminal watches carefully as Polar bends over and sets his gun on the ground.]
Criminal: All right, now take two steps back.
[Polar follows the order and takes two steps back. The criminal keeps his shotgun trained on Polar as he cautiously steps forward. He kneels down and reaches to retrieve the .25 and Polar quickly acts, tackling the man to the ground. There's a brief struggle and the shotgun goes flying off to the side as Polar catches the guy with a punch to the face. Seeing the shotgun is the closest, Polar scrambles to get it. He grabs hold of it and turns onto his back just as the criminal closes in on him. Polar squeezes the trigger...but nothing happens.]
Phantasm: You have got to be kidding me...
[Realizing the gun is jammed, the criminal grabs Polar's throat... suddenly, he releases his grip and falls over. The Phantasm rolls out of the way of the collapsing convict; as he does, we see a dart sticking in the ass of the criminal. Jeff Purse walks into view, dart gun in his hand. He extends a hand, helping Polar to his feet.]
Phantasm: Cuttin' it a little close there, eh?
Purse: I mean, I had the shot, but I saw you get the shotgun... I thought you had him, that's all.
Phantasm: Almost did- but then he almost had me. Thanks, Two. Prime here- status report?
[Things again quickly switch, this time to the woods. We see two criminals running for their lives, jumping over fallen trees and pushing their way through branches.]
Criminal #1: Who the hell are those guys?
Criminal #2: I don't know bu-
[Suddenly one of the criminals stumbles over a root sticking up out of the ground. The second criminal stops and looks like he's considering helping when he changes his mind and keeps running. He hears a wet popping sound behind him but doesn't dare look back as he tries to get away. However he doesn't get far as we see him suddenly drop to the ground, screaming in pain.]
Black: Shut up- you'll live. It's just a calf muscle.
[Corey Black walks into view, a ninja star in hand. We get a look at the guys leg as Black kneels down and removes a ninja star that is buried nearly halfway into the meat. We then get a look of the other criminal, propped against a fallen log and looking as if his face had just been smashed into said log. He spits out a gob of blood and then coughs up some more.]
Criminal #1: Who....who the hell are you?
[Black starts to say something when the guy laid out on the ground holding his leg interrupts.]
Criminal #2: He's a dead man when the Local Gangsters are through with him-
[Corey tosses the shuriken, catching the mouthy criminal in the chest. He collapses in a pile of twigs and leaves. When Corey Black turns back, he sees the bloody-faced criminal is struggling to pull a pistol from his waist. Corey shakes his head in disappointment.]
Black: Here's a tip for you Local Gangsters...
[He smacks the criminal in the forehead with a palm strike, sending his head back against the log once more.]
Black: ...don't fuck with international men of mystery.
[With lighting fast precision Black snaps the guys neck and then stands back up. After retrieving his stars from the bodies, Black begins to head back to the criminals' hideout to meet up with the team.]
Black: C-3 here- just bagged two of 'em. Whoever said 'the most dangerous game to hunt is man'... he'd never met these fools.
[Via comms, we hear the voice of Cryogenix Prime.]
Phantasm: Glad to hear your hunting trip went well, Three.
Black: I could've followed these two blindfolded; they're flourescent for fuck's sake. Four- the paint bombs work.
FPV: YES!
[We cut to FPV, standing inside of the bad guys' hideout.]
FPV: C-4, I got one of 'em... looks like Five and Six had fun in here, too.
[The camera pulls back to show the room in its entirety- the walls and floors and furniture are all aglow with flourescent glow-in-the dark paint. Steve Orbit and Jay Price enter, dragging a massive safe on a throw rug. Orbit is a little dusty, but otherwise clean... Jay Price is covered in green flourescent glow-paint.]
Orbit: C-5, we got the goods. Man, those acid shells y'all cooked up... nasty shit, man.
[The Mack kicks a guy on the floor... the one without a head.]
FPV: I don't know about you guys, but I kinda like the new job.
Price: Speak for yourself, Four...
[Jay Price steps over, wiping paint from his clothes and flinging it at FPV. Frank just laughs.]
Price: Six here... other than the new paintjob, I'm fine. The loot's accounted for.
Orbit: I recommend we get the fuck out of here as soon as possible, Prime.
[Over comms, we hear the Phantasm's voice once more.]
Phantasm: Absolutely what I was thinking. Excellent work, Cryogenix- excellent, excellent work.
[We cut back to Polar and Jeff Purse, walking quickly toward the hideout. Polar has a huge smile on his face.]
Purse: We all coulda died doing this shit, man... why you smiling?
Phantasm: Because none of us did, Jeff. None of us did.
---------------------------------------------------------
[We see the entire Cryogenix team with the exception of Jay Price standing in front of an open safe, somewhere inside of Cryogenix HQ. Inside are all of the old WCF Titles and the supposedly 'cursed' Trios Cup Trophy. Polar Phantasm steps forward and drops to a knee, reaching in and pulling out some of the belts.]
Phantasm: Hold on a second, we're two belts short.
Black: What? Are you telling me we missed something back there?
Orbit: That's impossible, that safe was sealed until we got it back here and opened it. There's no way that we missed something.
Purse: Yeah dude, we searched the whole place- the shit has to be in there.
Phantasm: Well I'm telling you... we're two short. According to everything Eye-Seven had on this job, there was supposed to be ten title belts and one trophy. I'm only counting eight belts in this thing.
FPV: Which of the belts are missing?
Phantasm: Looks like the original People's and Elite Title belts.
[At the words 'Elite Title', Corey does a head count and finds himself short one number Six.]
Black: ...where the hell is Price at?
Purse: He said he needed to go and clean up after getting slimed with glowstick grenade back there...
[Cryogenix Prime glances thoughtfully over to his good friend and faithful warchief, Corey Black.]
Phantasm: ...think Price took 'em?
Black: Bingo.
Orbit: That's crazy, man. There's no place to go with them! Why in the world wou-
[The sounds of "You Are So Beautiful" being sung from down the hall interrupt the Mack mid-sentence... everyone heads toward the sound, looking for its source. Corey Black's head drops in disappointment as recognizes the sound of Price's voice.]
Price: You are so beautiful............to me!
Black (muttered): Thievin' and karaoke- this is the kinda shit I was worried about, Prime.
[While everyone else looks back and forth at each other, Polar walks over to a normally unused door and turns the knob. He pulls the door open and then takes a step back as the camera moves in to see what is inside.]
Price: Can't yooou seeee... ooohhwhooaaaaaoooh!
[...and as the door opens, the Future Elements react with horror.]
Purse: Jesus- my eyes!
Phantasm: Oh, come on Jay! At least put up a sign, man-
[Inside of the room is Jay Price, currently in the middle of a bubble bath. At the moment he's holding a small yellow rubber duck in his hands, staring into its eyes lovingly.]
Price: You're everything I hoped for- you're EEEVERYTHING I neeed...
[Price's off key singing (or terrible Joe Cocker impression, one) and Purse and Phantasm's reaction brings the rest of the team over to the doorway, despite Polar's best efforts to wave them away. Price finally notices the group staring at him as he lowers the duck.]
Price: ...can't a guy get a bit of privacy in this place?!
[Polar lowers his head, running his hands through his hair and yanking at the roots a bit nervously.]
Phantasm: Yeah, that's not an issue... but, uh... look, Jay... we were going through the stuff in the safe and a couple of belts were missing. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?
Price: Who, me? ...uh, no! Nah man, I came right into the bathroom here when we got back.
[Price adjusts himself uncomfortably in the bathtub.]
Black: Jay, cut the crap.
Price: What the hell, man? Why are you riding my toned and firm ass here? What makes you think I'd just take the belts?!
Black: Because I've met you before? Dude, I know you and I know how you are about those belts. Pretty much everyone who's ever seen a WCF show knows how you are about those belts. You're OJ-level guilty, man.
Phantasm: Look, Jay, if you have them... just give them back man. We had a job to do and we did it, no reason to jeopardize our integrity by taking the goods for ourselves.
Price: But you don't understand!
Purse: Dude, we get it. We all know your history with those belts, but you have to do the right thing. They belong to the 'fed.
Orbit: Yeah bro, we all have to do the right thing. What would happen if we all started jacking shit after we recovered it?
Phantasm: We're operatives, not criminals. Come on man, you know they're right.
[Price drops his head in shame.]
Price: ...man, I didn't even get to spend the day with them.
[Price fishes around in the water by his legs and comes up with the original People's Title. He hands it off to Polar, who hands it off to Corey who looks like he'd rather be holding anything else in the world.]
Phantasm: And the Elite Title?
Price: But... I...
Phantasm: Come on Six, cough it up.
[Price looks up at Polar as if to argue, but then drops his head again. He then nods his head in agreement and then stands up, revealing the Elite Title wrapped around his midsection and...Elite member. Polar starts to say something when Price reaches around, unclasps the belt and hands it over to Polar, revealing himself to the team.]
Price: THERE! Take it! I hope you're happy-
Purse: OH, HELL NO!
[Purse turns around and begins dry heaving as the rest of the team walks off. Polar turns and walks away, shaking his head.]
Phantasm: You're one crazy bastard, Price.
Black: ...somebody get me some brain bleach. Now.
[Price reaches over and grabs himself a towel before wrapping it around his waist. He slips his feet into his slippers and follows Polar out into the War Room in time to see him placing the belts back into the safe with the rest. Polar starts to push the safe door shut when he stops, pulls it back open and pulls out the Trios Cup Trophy.]
Phantasm: Oh yeah- almost forgot about this... I got plans for you, my little silver friend.
Price: Whoa! You just forced me to give back my title belts and now you're eyeing up the trophy? What gives?
[Corey stops attempting to erase his brain through willpower long enough to agree with budding nudist Jay Price.]
Black: Yeah, Polar- that does seem a bit hypocritical. What's up with that?
Phantasm: Yeah, it seems kinda fucked up... I'll agree with y'all on that. But at last check, none of you have an angry pregnant wife that needs cheering up.
[Price, still a bit miffed about the People's and Elite titles, continues debating the topic.]
Price: And a trophy is going to cheer her up? How does a stolen trophy-
Phantasm: It's not the trophy itself, per se... it's what I'm going to do with it that should do the trick.
[Frank walks past, noticing Polar with the Trios Cup trophy.]
FPV: Pudding time?
Phantasm: Oh yes. It's pudding time, children.
[Polar polishes the trophy a bit with his shirt; Jay Price just stares at him confused.]
Price: Pudding? Is that like, code or something?
Phantasm: Long story, man. But no worries- I promise I'll have it back with the belts by tomorrow. Hell, I'll even clean it!
[Polar walks off with the trophy in hand as the rest of the team looks on.]
Black: Seriously Price, will you go put some clothes on?! You're creeping me out with the towel and slippers look.
[Corey Black walks off as Price just shrugs his shoulders.]
Price: Hey! If you got it, flaunt it.
--------------------------------------------------
[Bankston Hall; bedchamber of the Unstable Elements. Other than the dim light of the security bulbs overhead, the room is again quite dark... much as before, the bed is occupied. We can make out the shape of Nightmare beneath the sheets; she seems to have barely moved since Cryogenix took the field. The door swings open with a mighty whoosh and a slight squeal... the figure that enters is obviously the Polar Phantasm, judging by the bone-white hair and the shining silver Trios Cup trophy in his hand.]
Phantasm: Wakey wakey-
[An angry mutter comes from the bed (or its inhabitant, anyway).]
Phantasm: Crystal- seriously, baby, wake up for a second. Remember how I said I'd find some kind of way to cheer you up?
[The covers rustle- a dark-haired head emerges.]
Nightmare: Yeah... though I couldn't possibly imagine what-
Phantasm: Permission to turn on the lights?
[She covers her eyes]
Nightmare: Do it.
[Polar slaps the switch on the wall; the lights pop on. Though her face is partially obscured by her hand, we can still see Nightmare's eyes squint and her face contort into a wince.]
Nightmare: Jesus- this had better be worth it, Cam.
[He holds up the trophy and a large bowl of a brownish substance.]
Phantasm: I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.
[She uncovers her eyes, blinking at first in agony... but then, after a moment, in surprise.]
Nightmare: ...oh, Cameron...
Phantasm: And this time, we actually have some chocolate. I hope that's fine with y-
[Before he could finish his sentence, the Phantasm was assaulted by a crazed pregnant woman. Most opponents have trouble catching Polar off guard or sweeping him off of his feet; in the blink of an eye, Nightmare managed to put her husband into a liplock of doom. It's one submission hold that Polar had never thought to counter. After a moment, she finally releases; to his credit, the Phantasm had dropped neither pudding nor trophy. She snatched the bowl and the cup from his hands, setting about combining the two with mad glee.]
Nightmare: So how was their first mission? Did I miss anything fun?
[He sits on the bed next to his wife, running his fingers through her hair as she piles chocolate pudding into a thousand-dollar trophy.]
Phantasm: Corey killed some dudes, Orbit almost conned the bad guys into surrendering before they went all 'Scarface' on him, Frank got to play with his glowstick grenades finally... Jeff saved my life...
[She nods approvingly as she shovels a large spoonful of pudding into her mouth, eyes rolling back in her head with pleasure.]
Phantasm: ...oh, and Jay ended up taking a bath with the People's and Elite Titles. We all saw his dingus.
[She laughs, pudding still in mouth as she does; her laughter continues as she tries to speak. A bit of chocolate pudding comes out of her nose.]
Nightmare: Oh god- that's... horrible...
[He playfully wipes the pudding from her nose, licking it off of his finger.]
Nightmare: ..ew! Guh-ross.
[Her playful smile causes the Phantasm's heart to melt to a puddle. He embraces her, kissing her on the side of the neck as he does so.]
Phantasm: Yeah... this was definitely a mission to sit out, baby.
Nightmare: ...still wish I'd have been there for all the shooting and the stabbing. Why does Corey get all the fun?
Phantasm: Because Corey's not pregnant with my baby... and I think we can both be thankful for that.
[He pulls back, looking deeply into her eyes.]
Phantasm: I love you, Crystal.
[Tears well in her eyes as she responds.]
Nightmare: And I love you, Cameron-
[Through her teary gaze, she notices his hand creep toward the spoon... she interrupts her profession of love momentarily to slap his hand as if it were a crawling insect.]
Phantasm: -ow! Shit!
Nightmare: -just 'cause I love your ass doesn't mean you can steal my pudding.
[He pouts mischevously.]
Nightmare: ...alright, fine. Open up, big boy- here comes the puddin' train.
Phantasm: You serious? I can has-
[And with that, Crystal Bankston shoves a spoonful of chocolate pudding into her husband's open mouth. She laughs and pats him on the head as he just stares at her, disbelief in his eyes and a stainless steel spoon sticking out of his mouth.]
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[From the files of Iceberg-Seven...]
....Iceberg-Seven online.
....accessing file: "I7:/cgxdata/profiles/cgx2-purse.dat"
....processing file.
....processing complete; voice synthesizer activated.
Profile: Jeff Purse
Raised in an environment that fostered and entrenched numerous fears and compulsions inside of him at a young age, Jeff Purse has never felt 'safe' or 'secure' in his life. Perhaps that is what drove him toward extreme sports in his adolescence? Rebellion mixed with desire inside of him and that caused him to throw caution to the wind. Whatever the case was, it turned out that Jeff would turn out a phenomenal athlete; he made quite a mark on the BMX racing scene before ever training as a wrestler. Jeff began his wrestling career for the fledgling American Championship Wrestling federation... this would be where he would meet his future tag team partner Night Rider. This would also be where he would begin his long-standing rivalry with known psychopath (and enemy of the Unstable Elements) Nathan Von Liebert.
Jeff Purse lives on a farm in Berwick, Pennsylvania; its barn has been converted into an all-purpose training center/gymnasium. Jeff is often joined there by his on-again/off-again girlfriend/fiancee', Kari Kendall. Jeff's barn has been the scene of some fairly legendary meetings in the last year... it has also been an 'emergency crash pad' for the Polar Phantasm more than once in the past.
In Jeff's WCF career, he found early success in a Tag Team Title stint with Night Rider... but Jeff really hit his stride at Asesinato De Mayo 2012 when he won the US Title early in the evening and came back to close the show out with the founding of Pantheon. During the reign of Pantheon, Jeff held the United States, Television and World Title belts at one point or another... he also won 'War', an impressive feat few could ever hope to accomplish. He also developed a strong relationship with the Polar Phantasm, the two bonding over the loss of Phantasm's girlfriend and tag partner Nightmare. As the Future Elements, Jeff and Polar fought against such villains as Monsters Inc. and the Darkside of Treachery. The two men fight together as such today, united against Jeff's hated rival Eric Price and his Bravado faction... especially its 'talent relations director', evil temptress and WCF World Champion Sarah Twilight.
As Cryogenix Two, Purse is the Phantasm's trusted lieutenant. Jeff Purse is always ready to act as the voice of reason... or the wild right hook of justice. His surprising strength, NBA-caliber vertical leap and seemingly inexhaustible stamina make him an excellent soldier. His charisma, his unwavering integrity and his love for his fellow man make him a leader. His ability to conquer seemingly any fear and his death-defying bravery in the face of staggering odds make him damn-near unstoppable.
He is the one, the only... 'The Future'. Truer words are rarely spoken.
[end of file]
...Iceberg-Seven is idle.
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Episode 1: "The Price of Freedom"
Concept by Brian Bonhagen and Curt Dehart
Wardrobe Consultant: Taylor Skidmore
Prop Department: Frank Venable
Morale Magnate: Bryan Braun
Master Mixologist: Jared Price
Quality Control: Curt Dehart
Word Wrangler: Brian Bonhagen
Also Starring:
Cryboy McEmo
Honey "Baked" Hamilton
Cryogenix is:
'The Future' Jeff Purse (Bryan Braun, asst. writer)
Corey 'Creeping Death' Black (Curt Dehart, asst. writer)
FPV (Frank Venable, asst. writer)
'The Mack' Steve Orbit (Taylor Skidmore, asst. writer)
Jay Price (Jared Price, asst. writer)
Nightmare and the Polar Phantasm (Brian Bonhagen, head writer)
Cryogenix created by Brian Bonhagen and Frank Venable
Based on a concept by Brian Bonhagen and Richard Hill
Special thanks to:
Seth Lerch and the fine people at WCF Pictures
the United States Federal Government (please don't arrest us! I swear we're just writers!)
Eric Price Pro Wrestling
the hardworking people at WCF Headquarters
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA)
...and you.
No hippies or camels were harmed in the making of this episode.
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[And now... out-takes!]
[We see Jay Price in his tuxedo, sitting at the bar in the Cryogenix HQ Living Quarters. He grandly postures while holding three daggers; one of them slips from his grasp. He tries to grab it as it falls; he stops himself before he grabs the blade.]
Price: Shit!
[As it bangs on the ground, he makes a face. Off-screen, we hear a low chorus of laughs.]
Price: I meant to do that.
[Scene cuts to the hangar at CGXHQ; we see Steve Orbit escorting a truck driver away from the group.]
Orbit: Tell you what, homie- I'll take you to the bus station. You ever ridden a cabby- Caddy, fuck!
[Laughs from off-screen; Orbit smiles and shakes his head.]
Orbit: ...what the fuck is up with that?
[From off-screen, we hear a weak shout]
Purse: It's Freudian!
Orbit: Fuck you, Jeff.
[Even Steve Orbit can't help but laugh. We cut to the War Room; Polar turns to his right, looking at Corey Black.]
Phantasm: Eye-Seven, can you-
Black: Dude, I'm Three. You named the computer Seven...
[Polar rolls his eyes, putting his head on the table as if ashamed.]
Phantasm: God damnit. Sorry, Corey- been a long day, man.
FPV: Can I be Eye-Seven next take?
Phantasm: Fuck you, Frank.
[We cut again, but stay in the War Room- Polar is speaking to the assembled group.]
Phantasm: We're not the Pantheon anymore... we're not Genesis anymore...
[From across the room, we hear "Someone Like You" by Adele suddenly begin playing. Everyone turns to FPV, who is digging his cellphone out of his pocket.]
Phantasm: Damn, Frank-
FPV: Yeah, my bad.
[Jay Price just stares at him.]
Price: Really?
FPV: -shut up, I like that song.
Orbit: Yeah, it's not bad.
Phantasm: I never really got into-
[Polar stops himself in a huff.]
Phantasm: Wait... cut!
[Cut to Jay Price, mingling with a pair of young hippie girls.]
Price: ...but have you ever *really* hugged a tree? I do it at least once a week, you know- show Mother Nature I'm still her boy at heart.
Girl #2: That's sweet-
Girl #1: -awww..
Price: ...yeah, you know. So, you two scissor sisters, or what?
[The girls look to one another and storm off, arm in arm.]
Price: Called it.
[He turns to the camera]
Price: Tell me you got that. Totally called it!
[Jay turns to look behind him; camera swings over to show Corey Black laughing at Jay Price and shaking his head.]
Price: What? Come on, man. What's up with all these lesbo extras? That's like, eight of them now! I mean... who casted this crap? It's like the Lilith Fair all over again...
[We cut again to a hallway inside WCF Headquarters; to footage from the security camera, actually. As the timecode runs in the bottom-right corner, we see two men dressed in black and wearing white 'Tek' masks creep past at an exaggerated, cartoonish pace. After making it past the camera, they creep back; one taps the other on the shoulder, pointing to the camera. Both give the camera a nod of the head, then creep back off screen.]
[We cut to the forest; the Phantasm squeezes the trigger of a sawed-off shotgun to no avail.]
Phantasm: You have got to be kidding me...
[The criminal wraps his hands around Polar's throat- as he gives a squeeze, Polar gives token resistence. This continues for about four seconds, until Polar taps the man gripping his throat on the back of the head. As he releases his grip, Polar gasps a large breath.]
Phantasm: -the safety's on, Jeff.
[We turn to see Jeff Purse, holding his dart-pistol dramatically- he looks at its side, shrugging slightly.]
Purse: So it is.
Phantasm: Might want to turn the safety off, Jeff.
Purse: I think I'll do that.
[Jeff Purse tries to keep a straight face as he slaps the safety with as much flourish as he can muster.]
Purse: Alright, then. I guess back to one.
Phantasm: That'd be the plan, Jeff.
[Cut to a bush in front of the bad guy's hideout- Honey Baked Hamilton and Cryboy McEmo get jumped out with a pair of huge punches. As Cryboy lands, we hear him shout-]
Cryboy: OW- I landed on my keys!
[Corey Black and Jay Price high-five.]
Price: Fuck yeah, Wayne's World jokes!
Black: Yeah, nice one, uh... Cryboy.
[Corey looks to Jay, confused.]
Black: It's always awkward for me when I hit the jobbers and they don't die.
Price: Yeah?
[We cut to FPV's laboratory inside Cryogenix HQ. Frank looks off-camera, speaking to Jeff Purse.]
FPV: I still think you're a boudle, though.
[...A grenade bounces into view, then quickly into the camera itself. The lens cracks slightly.]
Purse: Oh shit- that wasn't a mirror, was it?
[In our fractured view, we can only see Frank shake his head.]
FPV: Network is gonna be pissed, bro- but nice shot!
[We cut to Corey Black, about to dispatch a criminal in the forest.]
Black: Here's a tip for you Local Gangsters-
[Instead of giving the guy a palm strike, Corey just gives him a stern look.]
Black: -you know how terrible that name is, right? It's not even a 'Who's On First', really, it's like a 'Who the Fuck Cares'.
Criminal: Just kill me already, shit!
[Laughs from off-screen are joined by some hearty chuckles from Corey Black.]
Black: I mean, come on- you guys sound like a fuckin' ska band.
[From off-screen, someone yells 'Cut!'. Corey Black stops his laughing after a moment of focus. He turns to the camera]
Black: Kids, don't join a gang... but if you do, don't join a gang with a stupid name. I'm Corey Black, and this was a public service announcement. Thank you and good night.
[We cut to the team gathered around the safe back at Cryogenix Headquarters; the door of the safe swings open and everyone reacts with surprise... as they find the safe empty?]
Phantasm: Oh, what the f-
[With a massive jangling of metal plates, Jay Price enters the shot wearing all of the belts and nothing else. He clutches the Trios Cup trophy over his head triumphantly]
Price: I... HAVE... THE... POWERRRRRRRR!!!
Purse: Ugh, he's naked under there!
Phantasm: Jay, come on- those are artifacts, man-
Price: -oh, come on- like you've never thought about doing it.
[The rest of the group all look to each other]
Price: I'll take the belts off.
[We cut to the Unstable Elements' bedroom. Polar softly speaks as he approaches the bed carrying the silver trophy and the bowl of pudding.]
Phantasm: Crystal- seriously, wake up, baby-
[Polar takes another step closer to the bed- the covers fly back and Jeff Purse springs forth, embracing him quite suddenly.]
Purse: OH, I LOVE YOU SO, CAMERON!
[The Phantasm is powerless, handcuffed by trophy and pudding- all he can do is laugh at his friend's prank.]
Purse: PUT ALL OF YOUR BABIES INSIDE ME!
Phantasm: You bastards- you hilarious bastards. I will have you know I didn't spill a drop of this pudding!
[Purse releases the Phantasm, feigning anger. He suddenly has the voice of a Southern Belle.]
Purse: You always did love Bill Cosby more than me-
[Jeff Purse throws himself onto the bed, holding the back of one hand to his head dramatically.]
Phantasm: Jeff with the 'Oscar scene'!
[We see Jay Price singing in the bathtub, his eyes closed as he pours himself into the lyrics.]
Price: -you're everything I hope for... you're EV-rything I neeeeed...
[From off-screen, we hear Frank shout]
FPV: Fire in the hole!
[...A 'grenade' flies into view, splashing into the bathtub with a tremendous 'plop'. Jay Price leaps from the bathtub, spilling onto the floor in a heap. He looks up to hear a chorus of laughs from the others.]
Price: You are such an asshole, Frank...
FPV: Oh come on- that was funny.
[We cut back to the bathtub; Jay Price is once more deep into his serenade]
Price: Can't yoooou seeeee....eeeeeee?!?
[The Phantasm pops into view, sliding across the bathroom floor on both knees. He squints his eyes and bellows out along with his teammate.]
Polar and Price: You're everything I hoped for... and EV-rything I neeed...
[Price tries to embrace the Phantasm, who crawls away from him at high speed.]
Price: Come on, I thought we were having a moment!
Phantasm: Not touching you naked, Jay-
Price: What, it's a naked moment! Naked moments are beautiful!
[Price tries to get out of the tub; he slips and lands on the Phantasm.]
Phantasm: Oh, god- rape! I mean, cut!
[We cut to the back door of WCF Headquarters.]
Orbit: Well, shit- don't knock it till you try it, homie.
[Purse tries the handle; it sticks. Purse tries again... nothing happens. He gives the door a jerk to no avail.]
Orbit: What the-
[The Mack and the Future both grab the handle and pull on it.]
Purse: Maybe it's locked-
Orbit: -I think it's- stuck maybe?
[They both give a tug, Purse kicking one leg up onto the wall for leverage. Orbit sees this, then releases the door and walks away laughing hysterically.]
Orbit: Man... which one of y'all mo'fuckers locked the door?
[We cut to the War Room; Polar and FPV are showing off shotgun shells to Steve Orbit.]
FPV: The green ones are full of bath beads, full of- wait, hold up.
[We cut back to the same shot]
FPV: The green ones are full of tiny plastic bubbles, full of- almost like- sorta, maybe, I don't know, shit. Cut?
[Again, to same shot]
FPV: The green ones are full of... green pea-ness.
[Everyone laughs; Frank turns dramatically to the camera and winks.]
FPV: Soilent green- it's made out of acid.
[We cut back to the bathtub, one more time...]
Phantasm: You're one crazy bastard, Price.
Black: ...somebody get me some brain bleach. Now.
[Looking to the dry heaving Jeff Purse, Jay Price shouts...]
Price: Hey, come on- somebody wash my back!
[Jeff Purse just shakes his head sickly as we fade to black.]
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You have just watched 'CRYOGENIX S1E1: The Price of Freedom (pilot)'.
...Next in queue: 'CRYOGENIX S1E2: The Great Train Robbery'.
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