Evidence Competition: Orbit at Federal Plaza
Dec 22, 2013 14:25:26 GMT -5
Logan, Jonny Fly, and 1 more like this
Post by Steve Orbit on Dec 22, 2013 14:25:26 GMT -5
The last time we saw Steve Orbit, he had just been released from prison. He immediately went to Pennsylvania, met with his lawyer, and was able to convince WCF owner Sarah Twilight to give him back his World Title shot against Jonny Fly in the main event of One. To celebrate, Orbit went to NYC to 'relax' at one of the premier high-end strip clubs in the city, Penthouse Executive Club. It was late afternoon when he stepped outside of the club, only to be approached by the man who he blamed for his legal troubles-- WCF World Champion, Jonny Fly. Although Orbit swore he would kill Fly on sight, his frame of mind was slightly altered due to the awesome threesome he had just participated. Instead, he listened, as Fly explained that Orbit's promised immunity was horseshit, and in fact, the FBI planned on using all of the collected evidence to bring down Orbit, Fly and their FBI agent conspirator, Michael Simpson. Fly went on to tell Orbit that if the two of them didn't work together to steal the evidence from two seperate locations within the next few hours, their fate would be sealed.
Although Steve Orbit hated Jonny Fly for setting him up to be his fall guy, he had to ensure his own freedom by working together with him, one last time. The race to collect the evidence from both City Hall and Federal Plaza was on. Fly would take City Hall-- leaving Orbit to figure out a way to sneak inside and recover the very evidence that he himself had handed over to the FBI only days before.
Did I mention there's a wager? It's Jonny Fly and Steve Orbit, of course there is. Whoever collected their portion of the evidence first, takes the first shot in the main event. Not a bad deal. And so, let's see how Orbit is making out.
==
Scene opens in front of the Penthouse Executive Club. It's moments after Fly and Orbit spoke in the alleyway. Orbit stands on the street, making a call to his friend Havana Ginger. She picks up and he puts it on speakerphone.
Steve Orbit: 'Vana!
Havana Ginger: Hey, you aight?
Steve Orbit: Yeah, I mean-- nah, not really, girl. I just got hit with some knowledge. Some real deep shit I can't really talk about. But I need to know if you're in the city.
Havana Ginger: In New York? Nah, baby, I'm back out in LA-- what's goin' on?
Orbit bites his fist.
Steve Orbit: I told you, I can't really talk about it right now-- I promise, I'll tell you when I see you. Aight, look. You know a bunch of girls in NYC, right?
Havana starts laughing.
Havana Ginger: You got some fuckin' nerve, I thought you supposed to be a pimp? Get out there and find your own girls.
Steve Orbit: Nah, that's not what I mean. I just need about four, five girls to do a job for me. It'll be an hour, tops. Pays a grand each. Cash money.
Havana Ginger: Where is it, a club? A private party?
Steve Orbit: Nah, girl, you ain't hearin' me! It ain't "work" work. I just need 'em to do a job, somethin' real easy. I promise you girl, it'll be the easiest grand they ever make. Can you help me out or not?
Havana breathes a sigh.
Havana Ginger: I guess so, but I'ma need to get mine, too.
Steve Orbit: Are you seri-- you know what, fine. Aight. I'll throw you a grand the next time I see you if you can do this for me.
Havana Ginger: I dunnnoooo...
Steve Orbit: TWO GRAND, then. God dammit, 'Vana.
Havana chuckles.
Havana Ginger: Where you want them to meet you?
Steve Orbit: Put 'em on the subway to Federal Plaza. I'll meet 'em outside the station.
Havana Ginger: Ok. I'ma make a few calls, but it ain't gonna be no problem. I'll call you back in ten minutes.
Steve Orbit: Aight. I appreciate ya.
Ten minutes later. Orbit's phone rings, he answers it.
Steve Orbit: We good?
Havana Ginger: Yeah, we good. I got some bad bitches comin' your way. They gonna meet you there in a half hour.
Orbit looks at his watch.
Steve Orbit: Aight. Good lookin' out, 'Vana.
Havana Ginger: You know I got you.
The call ends. Orbit begins to walk up the street towards a subway station.
==
Scene opens outside of the Jakob K. Javits Federal Building at 26 Federal Plaza. The building is large and intimidating. All sorts of government business happens here, but we're interested in one floor in particular. The 23rd floor of this building is the FBI's New York City field office, and it's where Orbit needs to go to collect his evidence.
Inside the lobby on the ground floor, we see a somewhat long line of people waiting to gain entrance to the building. There's metal detectors, armed guards, the works. People are getting searched like they're about to board a plane or some other act of terrorism. The front door opens and we see a group of five girls join the end of the line. Some have coats and hats or a scarf, since it's cold, but they are exposing a lot of skin, and they are sexy as hell. As they enter, we see several of the guards talking amongst themselves and pointing in their direction-- their eyes filled with lust, their pants with semi-hard peckers. The line shuffles along without much excitement. As the girls get closer to the entering point, one of them starts playing dance music on her phone, and the girls start to really get down. They're grinding and rubbing all over each other and really putting on a show.
The scene cuts outside-- from behind, we see a hooded man, watching from outside.
Back inside, the guards are playfully trying to get things under control. The whores are being super flirty and trying to get the guards to dance with them. But they remain somewhat professional, as the line is starting to build behind them and old ladies with crusted shut vaginas are becoming impatient (not to mention jealous of the young hookers). Finally, the guards have things under control... or so they think.
As they focus their attention on the girls, the hooded man enters the building through the front door. He plays the wall, carefully sliding around the security checkpoint, undetected. For now.
The girls seem to be having some trouble at security. It's not that they are bringing in contraband-- it's that they have no official business at the Federal building. They beg for a tour, but the guards politely (and regretfully) explain that the building is not open to the general public. Just then, one of the guards radio goes off.
"Who cleared the guy with the hood, over?"
The guard looks confused, as he responds to the call.
Guard: I haven't checked anyone wearing a hood-- obviously I would have confiscated the hood. I am aware of our policy, over.
"Attention everyone, African American male wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, just entered the main elevator in the lobby. Somebody grab him when he gets off the elevator."
A few of the guards start talking amongst themselves about how they didn't see anyone fitting that description. The half-naked girls finally leave the building quietly, and things seemingly return to normal at the front entrance. Meanwhile, the hooded man has taken the elevator to the 23rd floor-- the FBI field office. The elevator stops. Ding. As it opens, the hooded man exits and look both ways-- security guards on both sides, closing in. He quickly turns back into the elevator and presses the button, closing the door just in time. The security guards begin to panic, and call on the radio.
Guard: Our guy just got off on the 23rd floor-- we spooked him and he went back into the elevator. Suspicious behavior.
"Copy that. We've got our eye on the elevator, it appears he's stopped the elevator in between 22 and 23. We've got to send somebody in there, and meanwhile, let's follow procedure and lock the building down."
An alarm sounds. The camera switches several times, showing different floors, with security guards near every exit. They're locking doors, and leading workers and visitors to secure locations. It looks pretty serious, after all this is post-9/11 NYC.
==
EARLIER
We see "The Mack" Steve Orbit hiding behind a dumpster. A guard comes out with a cigarette in his mouth. Must be taking a break. Orbit approaches him.
Steve Orbit: Got a light?
The guard jumps, and turns around. Orbit jabs him in the throat and goes behind him, putting him in the cobra clutch. He'll be out for a while. Orbit drags him behind the dumpster and a few moments later, he emerges wearing the guard outfit. He waits by the door, looking at his watch. At the right time...
He enters the building, walking through a back hall. He enters a service elevator and gets in, pressing the button to close the door. He takes the elevator to the 23rd floor, but doesn't get out. He waits, looking at his watch.
The alarm sounds. Orbit gets off the elevator. Several guards run past him. There's clearly a lot of initial confusion about what's going on inside the building. Orbit slides into the FBI office. A few moments later, he returns with a briefcase, and tries to get back into the service elevator. It's shut off, due to the lock down. Orbit looks around, finding another guard. Keeping his distance-- he doesn't want to be identified-- he shouts to the other guard.
Steve Orbit: Hey, where's the emergency staircase?
The guard seems suspicious.
Steve Orbit: I just started last week! I ain't never had to use them!
The guard points behind Orbit. Orbit turns and runs down the stairs, flight after flight after flight. He reaches the third floor, and exits the stairway. He walks down the hall a bit and stops in front of a window. He feels around the window, finding the emergency latch. He opens the window and looks down.
==
Back inside, the entire Federal building is locked down. In different sections of the building, people are seen panicking, talking amongst themselves, or simply sitting around waiting to go back to work.
Inside the elevator shaft, a specialist and a few guards are working on getting into the elevator itself. Finally, they pull a panel off the top. Looking inside... they see the black guy wearing a hooded sweatshirt. He's asleep on the floor of the elevator. One of the guards jumps down into the elevator and handcuffs the man, before slapping him in the face, waking him.
Guard: Hey, what the hell are you doing?
As we get a closer look, the man is probably 80 years old. He looks confused.
Hooded Man: What? Ralph, is that you? Where am I?
The guard looks up at the rest of the team, shaking his head.
Guard: You're inside the Federal building. In the elevator.
Hooded Man: How can that be? Who are you?
The guard helps the man stand up and they start working on re-starting the elevator. As we fade out, we see the hooded man crack a smile. He's not senile or crazy. He just made five thousand dollars.
==
Scene switches to outside the building. A taxi is parked by a dumpster in the rear of the building. We can hear the radio from inside the taxi.
"Steve Orbit swore that he will actually KILL Jonny Fly during the main event of One. What effect would a ring death like that have on the professional wrestling business?"
"Oh, Stan, a tragedy like that couldn't help but shake the world of professional wrestling to its very foundation. But it's of paramount importance that during the weeks ahead, the eyes of the WCF remain firmly fixed on--"
Inside the cab, the driver clicks off the radio. The driver is a Spanish looking woman. She looks familiar, like... maybe we've seen her somewhere before. Maybe a movie. Yeah, definitely a Quentin Tarantino movie. Anyway, she sips her coffee, and then hears a loud noise in the alley. She sticks her head out the car to see a briefcase drop from the third story window-- after that, Steve Orbit drops from the same window, wearing a security guard outfit. He climbs out of the dumpster, and quickly starts stripping off the uniform, throwing it to the ground. He takes the briefcase out of the dumpster, and picks up a duffelbag he had left there earlier. He gets into the back seat of the cab, naked except for his boxers. The woman, staring straight ahead, speaks to Orbit through the rear view mirror. She has a Spanish accent.
Driver: Are you the man I was supposed to pick up?
Steve Orbit: If you're the cab I called, I'm the nigga you supposed to pick up.
Driver: Where to?
Steve Orbit: The fuck outta here.
She turn on the engine, and flips on the meter. Her bare foot stomps the gas pedal, and the taxi fishtails out of the alley. Further down the road, the driver watches as Orbit puts on his lavender pimp suit. She can't keep quiet anymore.
Driver: Hey, mister?
Steve Orbit: What?
Driver: You're that wrestler. I heard about you on the radio-- you're in the main event of One?
Orbit adjust his hat with the feather.
Steve Orbit: What gives you that idea?
Driver: No, come on. I know you're him. Tell me you're him.
Steve Orbit: ... Yeah, I'm him. I'm the Mack, Steve Orbit.
Driver: You said you want to kill that other man.
Steve Orbit: Fly?
Driver: The man on the radio said you want to kill him.
Orbit is about to answer, but then... gets weirded out.
Steve Orbit: Hold up. Don't I know you from somewhere?
Driver: I don't think so.
Steve Orbit: Yeah... I definitely seen you somewhere before.
Orbit looks at the license on the back of the seat.
Steve Orbit: Esmarelda Villalobos. Is that Mexican?
Esmarelda Villalobos: The name is Spanish, but I'm Columbian.
Steve Orbit: It's a very pretty name.
Esmarelda Villalobos: It means "Esmarelda of the wolves."
Steve Orbit: Yeah... I knew that already... somehow.
Esmarelda Villalobos: Steve. What does it mean?
Steve Orbit: Baby, I'm black. Our names don't mean shit. That's why we call ourselves nicknames like the Mack.
Orbit shakes his head, weirded out by this deja vu experience. He takes out his cellphone and goes to WCF.com to watch the latest Jonny Fly promo. When he finishes, he begins to react, speaking to the cabbie.
Steve Orbit: Can you believe this shit, girl? Fly is just saying anything that comes to mind at this point. I'm soft? I'm a wannabe? Damn. I didn't realize my criminal record and my street credentials was up for debate. That's crazy talk. He's putting the fuckin' political spin on this right now. Hangin' around with Cairo too much. Facts are mother fuckin' facts. The dude ain't even making sense anymore-- a desperate mother fucker, you know what I'm sayin'? Talkin' about my clothes? Give me a break, Fly. I thought you were better than that, you supposed to be the king of mother fuckin' promos and you talkin' about my threads and my fashion sense? I'm lost in the 70s? You're drowning yourself, Fly. You know pimps. You know the history behind my style, you know why black men like myself dress flashy. Y'all white folks kept us in the dark, kept us off the radar for so long or whatever. It's real. You're repeating stuff that guys like Hunter Valentyne used to say to me. Guys who wasn't nothin' but talk. I ain't never wanted to be nothin' except what I am. I am who the fuck I am. My name is my name, Fly. I'm proud of who the fuck I am.
Orbit pauses. Esmarelda seems very intrigued by his ranting.
Steve Orbit: And then this mother fucker wants to talk about his genius plan to roll over on me. There ain't nothing genius or original about that shit, damn! It's the oldest bitch move in the book. Wow, a white guy framed a black guy for his crimes. GROUND BREAKING SHIT. Give this mother fucker a nobel prize, put his ugly-ass picture on the thirty dollar bill, we got a brand new fuckin' Einstein here. The fuck outta here with that shit. The cracks are starting to show, Fly. You always came off as confident-- right now, you comin' off OVER confident. You KNOW me, Fly. You're over-compensating, you're nervous. You don't know what to do. This wasn't part of the plan, was it, Fly? I was supposed to stay my black ass in prison while you defend the belt against a couple of fuckin' half-retarded meatheads. I mean, maybe if Sarah had gave somebody-- anybody else my spot in the match, it wouldn't be so obvious that it was a complete and total fuckin' set-up from day one. But she didn't, and you ain't seem to mind, and there's only one thing that went wrong. Only one thing that fucked your plan up. You forget who the FUCK you dealin' with.
I thought we knew each other. But you clearly have NO IDEA who the FUCK I am. Either that or you in denial. Or you puffin' out your chest so nobody can see the bitch in you, but we can. We see it. Every time you look in the camera and say you ain't worried about losing to Steve Orbit, you are a God damn liar and everybody know it. Everybody know that shit. You scared, Fly. You scared.
There are a few moments of silence in the cab. Esmarelda watches Orbit through the rearview mirror as he looks out the window.
Esmarelda Villalobos: I love the wrestling. I watch the promos. I love your promos, Steve, I can relate to you because you show different sides of your character-- I mean, your personality. You've had ups and downs... you've been betrayed, you've conquered your enemies. And through it all, you haven't been afraid to hide your emotions. You've taken the fans with you, every step of the way. That is why I love you. This Fly... he has only one speed. Only one side. He is an invincible mob boss who doesn't feel anything. That's not interesting. Sure, his stories are wonderous-- like a great mafia movie. The fans want to see more, and they want to experience that lifestyle. But what about the "real" Jonny Fly? Everyone must feel something. Without the emotion, how can we relate to him? How can we believe that he is... real?
Orbit grins, laughing to himself.
Steve Orbit: Damn, Esmarelda, I guess I ain't never looked at it like that before.
Esmarelda Villalobos: So, are we going to drive around the city all night or would you like me to bring you somewhere?
Steve Orbit: Well, as much as I'd like to drive around the city all night with you, I do have some business to take care of. You know the old Zuccotti Park?
Esmarelda Villalobos: Of course.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, it's... uh, right across the street from there.
Esmarelda bangs a u-turn in the middle of the street. Cars are honking. Orbit laughs.
Esmarelda Villalobos: Well, I wish you luck in your match. I hope you win the World title.
Steve Orbit: Me too, girl. I been so caught up with all the bullshit in these past couple weeks, I forgot what the fuck I came for. I need that title, baby. I am "The Mack" Steve Orbit, and maybe I'm not the greatest of all time, but I'm one of 'em. Fly, he is too. No matter how I feel about the mother fucker right now, I can't deny that. We gonna do our thing. We gonna do the main event proud. But at the end... I'll be the one left standing. The World Title is coming back to Oakland with me and I'm gonna put this whole mess behind me. You can believe that.
The cab pulls to the side of the street, across from the construction site formerly known as Zuccotti Park. Orbit gets out, now wearing his full pimp suit and carrying the briefcase. He walks to the driver's side window.
Esmarelda Villalobos: Forty-five sixty.
Orbit pulls out his billfold and hands her the money.
Steve Orbit: Thanks, girl. And here's a little somethin' for you.
He hands up a crisp 100 bill. She reaches for it, but he pulls it away.
Steve Orbit: If anybody ask you who you picked up tonight, what you gonna tell 'em?
Esmarelda Villalobos: The truth. Three well-dressed, slightly toasted Mexicans.
Steve Orbit: Nah, that's no good. Heard that one before.
Esmarelda Villalobos: Two white business men?
Orbit hands her the bill and winks.
Steve Orbit: Esmarelda. Maybe I'll see you again one day.
Esmarelda smiles. She drives off. Orbit waits until she turns the corner, and then he runs across the street to the construction site. He walks to a secluded area and realizes he has arrived before Fly-- therefore winning the competition. He grins to himself and we fade out.
Although Steve Orbit hated Jonny Fly for setting him up to be his fall guy, he had to ensure his own freedom by working together with him, one last time. The race to collect the evidence from both City Hall and Federal Plaza was on. Fly would take City Hall-- leaving Orbit to figure out a way to sneak inside and recover the very evidence that he himself had handed over to the FBI only days before.
Did I mention there's a wager? It's Jonny Fly and Steve Orbit, of course there is. Whoever collected their portion of the evidence first, takes the first shot in the main event. Not a bad deal. And so, let's see how Orbit is making out.
==
Scene opens in front of the Penthouse Executive Club. It's moments after Fly and Orbit spoke in the alleyway. Orbit stands on the street, making a call to his friend Havana Ginger. She picks up and he puts it on speakerphone.
Steve Orbit: 'Vana!
Havana Ginger: Hey, you aight?
Steve Orbit: Yeah, I mean-- nah, not really, girl. I just got hit with some knowledge. Some real deep shit I can't really talk about. But I need to know if you're in the city.
Havana Ginger: In New York? Nah, baby, I'm back out in LA-- what's goin' on?
Orbit bites his fist.
Steve Orbit: I told you, I can't really talk about it right now-- I promise, I'll tell you when I see you. Aight, look. You know a bunch of girls in NYC, right?
Havana starts laughing.
Havana Ginger: You got some fuckin' nerve, I thought you supposed to be a pimp? Get out there and find your own girls.
Steve Orbit: Nah, that's not what I mean. I just need about four, five girls to do a job for me. It'll be an hour, tops. Pays a grand each. Cash money.
Havana Ginger: Where is it, a club? A private party?
Steve Orbit: Nah, girl, you ain't hearin' me! It ain't "work" work. I just need 'em to do a job, somethin' real easy. I promise you girl, it'll be the easiest grand they ever make. Can you help me out or not?
Havana breathes a sigh.
Havana Ginger: I guess so, but I'ma need to get mine, too.
Steve Orbit: Are you seri-- you know what, fine. Aight. I'll throw you a grand the next time I see you if you can do this for me.
Havana Ginger: I dunnnoooo...
Steve Orbit: TWO GRAND, then. God dammit, 'Vana.
Havana chuckles.
Havana Ginger: Where you want them to meet you?
Steve Orbit: Put 'em on the subway to Federal Plaza. I'll meet 'em outside the station.
Havana Ginger: Ok. I'ma make a few calls, but it ain't gonna be no problem. I'll call you back in ten minutes.
Steve Orbit: Aight. I appreciate ya.
Ten minutes later. Orbit's phone rings, he answers it.
Steve Orbit: We good?
Havana Ginger: Yeah, we good. I got some bad bitches comin' your way. They gonna meet you there in a half hour.
Orbit looks at his watch.
Steve Orbit: Aight. Good lookin' out, 'Vana.
Havana Ginger: You know I got you.
The call ends. Orbit begins to walk up the street towards a subway station.
==
Scene opens outside of the Jakob K. Javits Federal Building at 26 Federal Plaza. The building is large and intimidating. All sorts of government business happens here, but we're interested in one floor in particular. The 23rd floor of this building is the FBI's New York City field office, and it's where Orbit needs to go to collect his evidence.
Inside the lobby on the ground floor, we see a somewhat long line of people waiting to gain entrance to the building. There's metal detectors, armed guards, the works. People are getting searched like they're about to board a plane or some other act of terrorism. The front door opens and we see a group of five girls join the end of the line. Some have coats and hats or a scarf, since it's cold, but they are exposing a lot of skin, and they are sexy as hell. As they enter, we see several of the guards talking amongst themselves and pointing in their direction-- their eyes filled with lust, their pants with semi-hard peckers. The line shuffles along without much excitement. As the girls get closer to the entering point, one of them starts playing dance music on her phone, and the girls start to really get down. They're grinding and rubbing all over each other and really putting on a show.
The scene cuts outside-- from behind, we see a hooded man, watching from outside.
Back inside, the guards are playfully trying to get things under control. The whores are being super flirty and trying to get the guards to dance with them. But they remain somewhat professional, as the line is starting to build behind them and old ladies with crusted shut vaginas are becoming impatient (not to mention jealous of the young hookers). Finally, the guards have things under control... or so they think.
As they focus their attention on the girls, the hooded man enters the building through the front door. He plays the wall, carefully sliding around the security checkpoint, undetected. For now.
The girls seem to be having some trouble at security. It's not that they are bringing in contraband-- it's that they have no official business at the Federal building. They beg for a tour, but the guards politely (and regretfully) explain that the building is not open to the general public. Just then, one of the guards radio goes off.
"Who cleared the guy with the hood, over?"
The guard looks confused, as he responds to the call.
Guard: I haven't checked anyone wearing a hood-- obviously I would have confiscated the hood. I am aware of our policy, over.
"Attention everyone, African American male wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, just entered the main elevator in the lobby. Somebody grab him when he gets off the elevator."
A few of the guards start talking amongst themselves about how they didn't see anyone fitting that description. The half-naked girls finally leave the building quietly, and things seemingly return to normal at the front entrance. Meanwhile, the hooded man has taken the elevator to the 23rd floor-- the FBI field office. The elevator stops. Ding. As it opens, the hooded man exits and look both ways-- security guards on both sides, closing in. He quickly turns back into the elevator and presses the button, closing the door just in time. The security guards begin to panic, and call on the radio.
Guard: Our guy just got off on the 23rd floor-- we spooked him and he went back into the elevator. Suspicious behavior.
"Copy that. We've got our eye on the elevator, it appears he's stopped the elevator in between 22 and 23. We've got to send somebody in there, and meanwhile, let's follow procedure and lock the building down."
An alarm sounds. The camera switches several times, showing different floors, with security guards near every exit. They're locking doors, and leading workers and visitors to secure locations. It looks pretty serious, after all this is post-9/11 NYC.
==
EARLIER
We see "The Mack" Steve Orbit hiding behind a dumpster. A guard comes out with a cigarette in his mouth. Must be taking a break. Orbit approaches him.
Steve Orbit: Got a light?
The guard jumps, and turns around. Orbit jabs him in the throat and goes behind him, putting him in the cobra clutch. He'll be out for a while. Orbit drags him behind the dumpster and a few moments later, he emerges wearing the guard outfit. He waits by the door, looking at his watch. At the right time...
He enters the building, walking through a back hall. He enters a service elevator and gets in, pressing the button to close the door. He takes the elevator to the 23rd floor, but doesn't get out. He waits, looking at his watch.
The alarm sounds. Orbit gets off the elevator. Several guards run past him. There's clearly a lot of initial confusion about what's going on inside the building. Orbit slides into the FBI office. A few moments later, he returns with a briefcase, and tries to get back into the service elevator. It's shut off, due to the lock down. Orbit looks around, finding another guard. Keeping his distance-- he doesn't want to be identified-- he shouts to the other guard.
Steve Orbit: Hey, where's the emergency staircase?
The guard seems suspicious.
Steve Orbit: I just started last week! I ain't never had to use them!
The guard points behind Orbit. Orbit turns and runs down the stairs, flight after flight after flight. He reaches the third floor, and exits the stairway. He walks down the hall a bit and stops in front of a window. He feels around the window, finding the emergency latch. He opens the window and looks down.
==
Back inside, the entire Federal building is locked down. In different sections of the building, people are seen panicking, talking amongst themselves, or simply sitting around waiting to go back to work.
Inside the elevator shaft, a specialist and a few guards are working on getting into the elevator itself. Finally, they pull a panel off the top. Looking inside... they see the black guy wearing a hooded sweatshirt. He's asleep on the floor of the elevator. One of the guards jumps down into the elevator and handcuffs the man, before slapping him in the face, waking him.
Guard: Hey, what the hell are you doing?
As we get a closer look, the man is probably 80 years old. He looks confused.
Hooded Man: What? Ralph, is that you? Where am I?
The guard looks up at the rest of the team, shaking his head.
Guard: You're inside the Federal building. In the elevator.
Hooded Man: How can that be? Who are you?
The guard helps the man stand up and they start working on re-starting the elevator. As we fade out, we see the hooded man crack a smile. He's not senile or crazy. He just made five thousand dollars.
==
Scene switches to outside the building. A taxi is parked by a dumpster in the rear of the building. We can hear the radio from inside the taxi.
"Steve Orbit swore that he will actually KILL Jonny Fly during the main event of One. What effect would a ring death like that have on the professional wrestling business?"
"Oh, Stan, a tragedy like that couldn't help but shake the world of professional wrestling to its very foundation. But it's of paramount importance that during the weeks ahead, the eyes of the WCF remain firmly fixed on--"
Inside the cab, the driver clicks off the radio. The driver is a Spanish looking woman. She looks familiar, like... maybe we've seen her somewhere before. Maybe a movie. Yeah, definitely a Quentin Tarantino movie. Anyway, she sips her coffee, and then hears a loud noise in the alley. She sticks her head out the car to see a briefcase drop from the third story window-- after that, Steve Orbit drops from the same window, wearing a security guard outfit. He climbs out of the dumpster, and quickly starts stripping off the uniform, throwing it to the ground. He takes the briefcase out of the dumpster, and picks up a duffelbag he had left there earlier. He gets into the back seat of the cab, naked except for his boxers. The woman, staring straight ahead, speaks to Orbit through the rear view mirror. She has a Spanish accent.
Driver: Are you the man I was supposed to pick up?
Steve Orbit: If you're the cab I called, I'm the nigga you supposed to pick up.
Driver: Where to?
Steve Orbit: The fuck outta here.
She turn on the engine, and flips on the meter. Her bare foot stomps the gas pedal, and the taxi fishtails out of the alley. Further down the road, the driver watches as Orbit puts on his lavender pimp suit. She can't keep quiet anymore.
Driver: Hey, mister?
Steve Orbit: What?
Driver: You're that wrestler. I heard about you on the radio-- you're in the main event of One?
Orbit adjust his hat with the feather.
Steve Orbit: What gives you that idea?
Driver: No, come on. I know you're him. Tell me you're him.
Steve Orbit: ... Yeah, I'm him. I'm the Mack, Steve Orbit.
Driver: You said you want to kill that other man.
Steve Orbit: Fly?
Driver: The man on the radio said you want to kill him.
Orbit is about to answer, but then... gets weirded out.
Steve Orbit: Hold up. Don't I know you from somewhere?
Driver: I don't think so.
Steve Orbit: Yeah... I definitely seen you somewhere before.
Orbit looks at the license on the back of the seat.
Steve Orbit: Esmarelda Villalobos. Is that Mexican?
Esmarelda Villalobos: The name is Spanish, but I'm Columbian.
Steve Orbit: It's a very pretty name.
Esmarelda Villalobos: It means "Esmarelda of the wolves."
Steve Orbit: Yeah... I knew that already... somehow.
Esmarelda Villalobos: Steve. What does it mean?
Steve Orbit: Baby, I'm black. Our names don't mean shit. That's why we call ourselves nicknames like the Mack.
Orbit shakes his head, weirded out by this deja vu experience. He takes out his cellphone and goes to WCF.com to watch the latest Jonny Fly promo. When he finishes, he begins to react, speaking to the cabbie.
Steve Orbit: Can you believe this shit, girl? Fly is just saying anything that comes to mind at this point. I'm soft? I'm a wannabe? Damn. I didn't realize my criminal record and my street credentials was up for debate. That's crazy talk. He's putting the fuckin' political spin on this right now. Hangin' around with Cairo too much. Facts are mother fuckin' facts. The dude ain't even making sense anymore-- a desperate mother fucker, you know what I'm sayin'? Talkin' about my clothes? Give me a break, Fly. I thought you were better than that, you supposed to be the king of mother fuckin' promos and you talkin' about my threads and my fashion sense? I'm lost in the 70s? You're drowning yourself, Fly. You know pimps. You know the history behind my style, you know why black men like myself dress flashy. Y'all white folks kept us in the dark, kept us off the radar for so long or whatever. It's real. You're repeating stuff that guys like Hunter Valentyne used to say to me. Guys who wasn't nothin' but talk. I ain't never wanted to be nothin' except what I am. I am who the fuck I am. My name is my name, Fly. I'm proud of who the fuck I am.
Orbit pauses. Esmarelda seems very intrigued by his ranting.
Steve Orbit: And then this mother fucker wants to talk about his genius plan to roll over on me. There ain't nothing genius or original about that shit, damn! It's the oldest bitch move in the book. Wow, a white guy framed a black guy for his crimes. GROUND BREAKING SHIT. Give this mother fucker a nobel prize, put his ugly-ass picture on the thirty dollar bill, we got a brand new fuckin' Einstein here. The fuck outta here with that shit. The cracks are starting to show, Fly. You always came off as confident-- right now, you comin' off OVER confident. You KNOW me, Fly. You're over-compensating, you're nervous. You don't know what to do. This wasn't part of the plan, was it, Fly? I was supposed to stay my black ass in prison while you defend the belt against a couple of fuckin' half-retarded meatheads. I mean, maybe if Sarah had gave somebody-- anybody else my spot in the match, it wouldn't be so obvious that it was a complete and total fuckin' set-up from day one. But she didn't, and you ain't seem to mind, and there's only one thing that went wrong. Only one thing that fucked your plan up. You forget who the FUCK you dealin' with.
I thought we knew each other. But you clearly have NO IDEA who the FUCK I am. Either that or you in denial. Or you puffin' out your chest so nobody can see the bitch in you, but we can. We see it. Every time you look in the camera and say you ain't worried about losing to Steve Orbit, you are a God damn liar and everybody know it. Everybody know that shit. You scared, Fly. You scared.
There are a few moments of silence in the cab. Esmarelda watches Orbit through the rearview mirror as he looks out the window.
Esmarelda Villalobos: I love the wrestling. I watch the promos. I love your promos, Steve, I can relate to you because you show different sides of your character-- I mean, your personality. You've had ups and downs... you've been betrayed, you've conquered your enemies. And through it all, you haven't been afraid to hide your emotions. You've taken the fans with you, every step of the way. That is why I love you. This Fly... he has only one speed. Only one side. He is an invincible mob boss who doesn't feel anything. That's not interesting. Sure, his stories are wonderous-- like a great mafia movie. The fans want to see more, and they want to experience that lifestyle. But what about the "real" Jonny Fly? Everyone must feel something. Without the emotion, how can we relate to him? How can we believe that he is... real?
Orbit grins, laughing to himself.
Steve Orbit: Damn, Esmarelda, I guess I ain't never looked at it like that before.
Esmarelda Villalobos: So, are we going to drive around the city all night or would you like me to bring you somewhere?
Steve Orbit: Well, as much as I'd like to drive around the city all night with you, I do have some business to take care of. You know the old Zuccotti Park?
Esmarelda Villalobos: Of course.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, it's... uh, right across the street from there.
Esmarelda bangs a u-turn in the middle of the street. Cars are honking. Orbit laughs.
Esmarelda Villalobos: Well, I wish you luck in your match. I hope you win the World title.
Steve Orbit: Me too, girl. I been so caught up with all the bullshit in these past couple weeks, I forgot what the fuck I came for. I need that title, baby. I am "The Mack" Steve Orbit, and maybe I'm not the greatest of all time, but I'm one of 'em. Fly, he is too. No matter how I feel about the mother fucker right now, I can't deny that. We gonna do our thing. We gonna do the main event proud. But at the end... I'll be the one left standing. The World Title is coming back to Oakland with me and I'm gonna put this whole mess behind me. You can believe that.
The cab pulls to the side of the street, across from the construction site formerly known as Zuccotti Park. Orbit gets out, now wearing his full pimp suit and carrying the briefcase. He walks to the driver's side window.
Esmarelda Villalobos: Forty-five sixty.
Orbit pulls out his billfold and hands her the money.
Steve Orbit: Thanks, girl. And here's a little somethin' for you.
He hands up a crisp 100 bill. She reaches for it, but he pulls it away.
Steve Orbit: If anybody ask you who you picked up tonight, what you gonna tell 'em?
Esmarelda Villalobos: The truth. Three well-dressed, slightly toasted Mexicans.
Steve Orbit: Nah, that's no good. Heard that one before.
Esmarelda Villalobos: Two white business men?
Orbit hands her the bill and winks.
Steve Orbit: Esmarelda. Maybe I'll see you again one day.
Esmarelda smiles. She drives off. Orbit waits until she turns the corner, and then he runs across the street to the construction site. He walks to a secluded area and realizes he has arrived before Fly-- therefore winning the competition. He grins to himself and we fade out.
