Table Read - Run Rabbit Run - Act 2

Episode Date: August 22, 2024

Act 2 of 'Run Rabbit Run' cranks the intensity to 11, serving up a cinematic cocktail that's one part adrenaline rush, two parts dark comedy, with a twist of pulp fiction. Our anti-heroes Roland and Monte find themselves caught in a whirlwind of chaos that would make even the most hardened criminals say 'What the f***?' This act delivers more twists than a pretzel factory on steroids. We've got high-speed chases that'll make your heart race faster than a coked-up hamster, dialogue sharper than a samurai sword, and enough double-crosses to make you dizzy. It's like someone tossed 'Pulp Fiction', 'Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels', and 'It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World' into a blender and hit puree. The characters are so vividly drawn, you can practically smell their desperation and hear the gears grinding in their heads as they try to outmaneuver each other. And just when you think you've got it figured out, BAM! – the script hits you with another curveball that'll leave you reeling. Buckle up. This ain't your grandma's crime caper – unless your grandma is a badass with a penchant for mayhem and a vocabulary that would make a sailor blush. 'Run Rabbit Run' Act 2 is a wild ride that'll leave you breathless, mindf***ed, and hungry for more."

Avrò un certo langorino Ovviamente no panino No no no Un boccone ricco di gusto Se conosco il posto giusto Siamo d'accordo su su via Tutti alla piadineria È tornata la solare con crudo e stracciatella

Aggiungi salsa mango, aglio nero o peperone Amerai ogni boccone La piadineria... la più buona che ci sia. Two happy-go-lucky bandits get tangled in a dangerous feud between a pair of psychotic twin brothers fighting for possession of their father's ashes. Let's see, where to begin? How should I bring you guys up to speed on this shit show? Oh yeah! That's right, as you know, I'm broke and running on fumes. But hey, desperate times call for desperate measures. My old pal, Wyatt, informed me about a golden opportunity,

but spared some crucial details, which would have changed the direction of my wins. There's only one direction for you, Roland. Nobody asked you. Besides, you were busy being interrogated. And where's the thanks for that, by the way? Who got you out of that pickle? Yours truly.

I was free to go anyway so I gave Wyatt the green light to tell the client I'm willing to be convinced oh listen to the big man with two pennies in his power are you done this is about me sorry about that guys so as you, I have what you might call cosmic luck. But behind the wheel of a car, I am cursed. No other way to put it. So this meeting didn't go quite as expected. Well, little known fact, Killian Cherry watched his mother kill herself right in front of him when he was six years old.

I don't care who you are. That's going to have some effect on your personality. And whatever that thing was attached to his leash, I don't wanna be around when he gets loose. No thanks, count me out. And apparently his twin brother, Jameson, showed him the coffin he carved from a tree in the effort to make peace and bury their father together.

But Killian cremated the body instead. That son of a bitch. So the job was to hold an urn until the heat simmered. Now I'm really going on a hunch here but that woman who tried to kill me she probably don't work for UPS. Just by the hair of my chinny chin chin I managed to escape with an urn and a jack-in-the-box toy as a souvenir for Chloe. Oh, Chloe. We're all gonna miss her. Once again, behind the wheel, the curse found me, but this time in the form of a pie.

With all that being said, it was high time to locate this lame ass. Kinda wish you hadn't. I've missed you too. Exterior, precinct, dusk, flashback. A cop escorts a young Roland and a young Monty, both nine years old, out of the police station. Senior, thirties, Monty's father, a man's man, race car driver, sits in the passenger seat of his car parked out front. The cop gives Senior a stern look like this is all his fault. Even you were nine once.

The cop walks back toward the precinct, leaving the boys behind. Why are you sitting in that seat? Because today, that seat is yours. Monty and Roland run around the car towards the driver's seat. Easy, rabbits. Face is key. Where are we going? Nowhere just yet. One thing at a time. You know it would break my heart if anything happened to either of you. You know that right? Roland and Monty nod. Senior looks at Roland. As far as I'm concerned, both of you are my boys. So no matter what, you can always come to me.

We know. Then put the key in the ignition. Monty's about to turn the key when Senior reaches out and places his hand over his son's hand. Listen to me, boys. Drive is what exists within your heart and mind. The space between and the gut of your instincts. The two boys listen intently. No matter what's going on around you, even if everything has fallen apart,

always hit the ground running and don't ever let them catch you looking back. Ever. All a man has is his talent, and even God can't take that. He can take your life, but never your talent. Remember, victory has a thousand fathers, but failure is an orphan. The young boys take the lesson in. Monty turns the key. The engine roars. The boys smile in unison. Interior, bar, day, flashback.

A race car rally rumbles on the TV behind the bar. Sitting at the bar, Roland, 25, sips on a glass of milk. Monty, 25, is bitter drunk. A drunk man stares at Monty. I know you. Ity. I know you. I know, I know you. Holy fucking shit. You're Junior.

Monty LeBron's son. He's telling me I'm a liar. Monty gives a cold look, then takes a swig of beer. Your dad is the best there ever was. Oh, look at him. A goddamn legend. Drunk man leans in closer. Rumor has it you're faster. Maybe even better. Is that true? He's better now than his father will ever be. What are you doing here? Aren't you his juju amulet? The key to his winning streak?

He doesn't need me to win and I don't need him. That's a hell of a thing to say. I don't think you ever missed a race. Pound to lose now. Hey, two o'clock. Two white rhinos. Look familiar to you? Monty glances, sees two huge albino men, then turns back to the TV. He shrugs. You've been betting against your father again, haven't you?

Monty doesn't answer. I thought you were done with that. Fuck, Monty. How deep are you this time? Ten feet to China. Roland gets up. Monty grabs him by the shirt. Roland shakes him off and walks to the albino men.

Gentlemen, can I get you a drink? No response. All right. How much does he owe? Albino number two pulls Roland by his tie, but it pops off, revealing it's a clip-on. I'm not a big fan of tightness around my neck, you know what I mean? He's a few years and several commas behind.

Our boss's interest rate is not in his favor. Roland looks at Monty, who's still focused on the TV. He turns back. Whatever it is, I'll take it on. The albino men laugh. Roland is serious. Name's Roland. Clear it with whoever you have to.

If you leave, the debt is mine. Roland walks back to Monty. Albino number two grabs his phone. Monty swigs down the last sip of his beer. Car crash erupts on the television, and senior, number 67, gets the worst of it. Roland restrains Monty's rage, glances back and sees the albino men are gone. Monty manages to throw a beer mug at the television, shattering the screen. Back to The Crashed Van After Roland Kidnapped Monty. Interior, exterior, crashed van, present, day.

The shattered windshield with a hole in it. Roland wakes abruptly, realizing his dress is on fire. He puts it out. In a daze, Tyler opens the back door and rushes out. Roland shakes Monty awake and shoves him out of the burning van. Francois yells in anguish, stuck upside down in the driver's seat. Roland grabs his urn and rushes to the driver's door. Come on! We don't have time! Roland tries to open the door while Tyler watches for any sign of police. A cat. A fucking black cat ran right in front of him. Came out of nowhere.

Roland tries to pull Francois out through the window. Fuck the cat, Frank. Get the fuck out of the van. Francois is about to pass out. Roland slaps him in the face. Frank! Don't pass out on me. Look at me. Francois! Frank! Don't pass out on me. Look at me. Francois! The van is on fire. Fire is bad. Get the fuck out of the fucking van. Roland and Tyler help Francois out of the van and struggle to carry him down the alleyway like a wounded soldier. When they arrive to the corner, a bus pulls up as if on cue.

The doors open, revealing the bus driver, 40's, man. He notices the condition of the men and sees the burning van in the background. Hell no. Jack, sorry, 40's woman, not 40's man. Oh, it's crossed out here. Oh. So it's back to man, right? Yes.

Okay. Told you. I asked if there had been a note in everyone's script. Stop. Script people. When they arrive to the corner, a bus pulls up as if... Sorry. When they arrive to the corner, a bus pulls up as if...

I broke him. When they arrive to the corner... When they arrive to the corner, a bus pulls up as if on cue. The door is open, revealing the bus driver, 40s, man. He notices the condition of the men and sees the burning van in the background. Hell no. He shuts the doors and pulls away. Now what? We roll with it. Plan B. Aren't we on C or D by now? Zip it. I gotta think. Roland sees an old lady, 80s, frail, pushing a grocery cart in a parking lot. Roland shoves the urn in Monty's arm and hurries over towards the old lady.

Tyler follows with Francois close behind. Monty stands there, holding the urn, processing everything. Exterior, old lady's car, parking lot, continuous. The old lady is about to pick up a grocery bag when... Roland slides his arm under hers and leads her to the curb. Let us give you a hand. You shouldn't have to do this by yourself. Oh, that's so very sweet of you. Tyler and Francois load the groceries carelessly like brutes.

Easy on those. Some of that is glass. It's gonna be fine. Oh, and just one more thing. Roland gently removes the keys from her hands. We have to borrow your car. Roland notices a name tag that reads Martha on the keychain as he backs away from the old lady. Meanwhile, his crew is already climbing inside the car. You mean steal my car? Well, if you're being technical, Martha, how about you're lending it to us?

I'm not lending you shit. It's my husband's car, dickwad. Roland is surprised by her language as he opens the passenger door. I hope you get fucked to death in prison. Hold on, let's go. I'm so happy that has to be done again. I'm not lending you shit. It's my husband's car, dickwad. Roland is surprised by her language as he opens the passenger door. Such harsh language, ma'am.

I hope you get fucked to death in prison. Jesus, lady, it's just a car. Roland is about to get in when he sees the sad look on Martha's face. He has a change of heart. Fine. Are you driving or staying. Roland holds up the keys. Cut to Newman and Mulray driving by, recognizing Roland in a dress, holding up the keys towards Martha. They look at each other, puzzled.

Interior, old lady's car continuous. The old lady starts the car. She removes her glasses from her purse as Roland and his crew watch in utter disbelief. I can't see anything without my glasses. Is this still part of plan B? Tires screech as the old lady peels off, revealing the black cat laying casually in the cloud of smoke. Interior, old lady's car, continuous.

Squeezed between Tyler and Francois in the back seat, Monty leans forward. Sure could use that explanation right about now. Oh, it's a long story. It starts from the beginning. I'm a dead man. Well, I'm gonna be honest with you, looks pretty bad. Francois notices the detective's car behind them

with the emergency light on in fast pursuit. Uh, we are being followed. Eh, they couldn't catch a cold. Roland holds up the urn. First thing we have to do is hide this thing. Uh, there's no we, Roland. As long as we have this, they can't touch us. Stop saying we!

Wait, did you tell them that I'm involved in this job with you? I would never. It hurts my feelings to think that you would think that I would. Which way am I headed? Bitches keep driving. You're doing great, Martha. Did you give them the impression that I'm involved? Oh, Roland. Why would you do that? Roland loses his cool, giving us a glimpse of his fear.

Listen to me! Ah! I don't think you appreciate the severity of the situation. Monty looks at Tyler and Francois lobbing canned goods from the back window like grenades toward the detective's car behind. I think I do. They're gonna kill me, Monty,

and I don't want to die. Not today. I thought it was a simple A to B. Pick up and deliver. It was a little sketchy. I was warned, but the price was too good to resist. Enough to pay all your debt. Why are you worried about my debt? A little sketchy. I was warned, but the price was too good to resist. Enough to pay all your debt. Why are you worried about my debt?

Is that why you took this job? I wish. I'd have better odds coming out with my head intact. You know what's worse than being in debt? Being broke, Monty. Broke? How much did those masks run you? Well, they weren't cheap, but money well spent.

Here you are. Anyway, like I said, I was warned. Shit got a little fucked up, and now I'm stuck in the middle of it. Why don't you just give it back? That's a fucking brilliant idea, Monty. You think I haven't considered that? If I give it to the wrong brother now, my ass is grass. Whoa, whoa, whoa.

The Cherry Brothers? Fuck me, they were right. Roland, whose ashes are those? You know what? Forget it. I don't want to know. I'm done with all this. I made that perfectly clear.

No, Samantha made that perfectly clear. For fuck's sake, you still don't get it. I'm engaged. So what? Where in the fine print does it say that your best friend becomes a guac? Right under the heading, grow the fuck up. Boom. The detective's car smashes against the rear panel, forcing the old lady to make a hard left. Interior, Killian's car afternoon. Killian, Bonham, and Falcon Brute are parked in silence across from

Victoria's house. In the passenger seat, Killian is in a meditative state with his eyes closed and headphones on. Suddenly, the old lady's car swerves down the street with the detective's car close behind. Killian remains peacefully unaware. Dissolved 2. Killian's what-if regret sequence. Young Killian runs away from the bathroom down the hallway with his pocket knife in his hands. Behind him in the distance, his mother sits up in the bathtub, uninjured. Cut back two. Killian is nudged awake by Bonham. He removes his headphones and sees a car pulling up in front of Victoria's house. Killian sees a woman behind the wheel. Dorian? As the woman reaches into the glove box, Killian notices the bandage on her left shoulder covered with blood, recognizing

her as a UPS woman who tried to kill him in his own home. Devastated, Killian puts his sunglasses on. Interior, exterior, Victoria's home, day. A doorbell rings repeatedly. Victoria rushes down the hallway. Asshole, I heard. Victoria swings the door open to find Roland and his crew. Roland, I heard- Toria swings the door open to find Roland and his crew. Roland, thank God! Why is he wearing my- Why are you wearing my dress? Can we have this conversation inside, please?

You have a visitor. She pushes open the door to reveal the UPS woman, now known as Dorian, dressed in a nice suit, casually seated in a chair. Petrified, Roland discreetly tosses the urn into the bushes by the front door. Glad you could make it. What a day, huh? Dorian senses Roland's reluctancy.

Why so glum? You look like a mourner at your own funeral. It was nice knowing you guys. Roland and his crew step inside, on edge. What's that lovely aroma? Oh, sneaker doodles made from scratch. Roland gives Victoria a cold stare.

What? My mother's recipe, they're good. Well, mothers do know best. Monty, would you be so kind and fetch me one with a glass of milk? I don't know about your math, but in case you hadn't added it up, there's five of us and one of you. Roland shakes his head. Dorian moves past the remark. If it's possible, give me a tall glass. I hate the short, stumpy ones.

Dorian winks at Monty. Not wanting to test the delicate situation any further, Monty leaves to fulfill Dorian's request. You were very lucky this morning, Roland, but that certainly is the way you go about things, isn't it? Charming style when you consider nothing lasts forever. Monty walks back in with the cookies and a glass of milk like her little bitch. You're too kind, thank you. Dorian takes a bite and gives a look of approval. Roland uses the silence as an opportunity to clear the air.

About earlier... Dorian holds a finger up. She takes a sip of milk. I'm a big believer in new beginnings, fresh starts. We should just clean the slate right here and wash our hands together. What happened at my uncle's was an unfortunate misunderstanding. Roland nods in agreement. Tragic. I know it's probably hard to imagine after what you've seen today, but there was a time when Killian and I were very close. You could even say I still love him underneath it all. Dorian lost in thought. Dissolve into Dorian, stoically seated in a chair, getting her bloody shoulders stitched up

by a nervous doctor. I mean, to be put in a situation as delicate as this, I realize you all must be very confused at this moment, but understand this. Behind Dorian, Jamison destroys one of his wooden sculptures in a furious tirade. Those ashes belong to my father, Jameson Cherry, Killian's brother. Whatever deal you made, whatever pledge or contract you entered into, consider it non-void.

Back to Dorian in Victoria's living room takes a sip of milk. You didn't realize what you were getting into, that's obvious. Everyone stares at Roland, hoping he comes clean. It's not here. Roland feels the pressure from his peers. But I can get it to you. I like you, Roland. For whatever reason, your careless style impresses me. from his peers. But I can get it to you. I like you, Roland.

For whatever reason, your careless style impresses me. However, second chances are rare. Wherever the urn is at the moment, I know it's safe, but tomorrow,

it better be back where it belongs. Dorian stands up and heads for the door. I've always been a fan of the diplomatic approach. I don't want to see anyone else get hurt. The options that follow for those that are still alive are a drag.

Dorian pauses. Almost forgot. She holds Roland's driver's license up. You left this behind in the hot tub? Everybody looks at Roland confused. It's a little ironic, don't you think roland shrugs by the way what was it lemon meringue everyone looks at roland inquisitive roland hesitates to admit coconut dorian nods pleasantly surprised then leaves. Everyone exhales. Roland hurries to the window to confirm the urn is still there.

Who the fuck was that? The mailman. Fade to black. Exterior, Luxuria's condo building, evening. Newman and Mulray's detective car pulls up with a fresh coat of tomato sauce spread across the hood and windshield. A bald cop, 45, arrogant, waiting by the entrance, waves them in. Heard you guys almost had him this morning.

The detectives get out of their car. We think he might have found a new driver. What do you got for me? A fucking mess. Any fatalities? Sure looks like it, but can't find any bodies. Mulray catches up to them. Interior, Killian Penthouse entryway, continuous.

The condo is filled with cops swarming like hornets. Newman, Mulray, and the bald cop enter the crime scene. Newman notices an officer holding a record reading the lyrics. She approaches and slaps him across the head. You mind keeping your prints off my evidence, dumb nuts? What the fuck is wrong with you? Give me your gun! Confused, the young officer hands her his gun.

She gives it to Mulray. Get this butter knife out of here. I don't want to see his face the rest of the year. Newman watches her steps as she moves through the condo. Hey, Newman, that reminds me. I got a new one for you. Every cop signals him not to tell the joke. No, no, this one's good.

What's the difference between a car tire and 365 used condoms? I give up. One's a good year. The other's a great year. Hey-o! The bald cop bursts out laughing alone. Outstanding.

Your mother must rave about you. Interior, Killian's kitchen, continuous. Newman sees Gasser eyeing the food inside the fridge. Gasser, what are you doing? Dusting for prints. I think the handle is sufficient. Newman puts a rubber glove on to inspect the knife next to a puddle of blood. I hate knives. Once you rinse it clean, there's absolutely no sign of where it's been or the damage it's done. Just like my dick! Crash. Everyone turns around and finds a broken jar of pickles at Gasser's feet. Newman notices the hint of a white object peeking out from under the fridge.

She crosses over to inspect it. She tilts the object onto its side, revealing a white rabbit figurine. She wipes the blood away, showing an R printed on its belly. She smiles. It looks to me someone has gotten themselves wedged between two rotten apples in hopes of a profit. We'll see how long it can keep his head above water. That's the thing about luck. It's a real motherfucker, and right now it looks as if someone is running a little low. Sound of a finger tapping.

Interior, exterior, station wagon, Victoria's driveway, evening. The gas indicator needle points on empty. Roland's finger taps the indicator, feeling Tyler's stare. I know what you're thinking. It's not a sign. People run out of gas. It happens. Don't look

into it. I figure we're over the hump now. It's all downhill from here. I feel it, really. It can't get any worse. Beep, beep, beep. Roland looks in the rearview mirror. He sees Chloe's crashed Camaro being pulled into Victoria's driveway by a tow truck. Stunned, he whips around, hoping his eyes are playing tricks on him.

Wait for my cue. The loud beeping continues as the tow truck backs up. Roland approaches Floyd, the tow truck backs up. Roland approaches Floyd, the tow truck driver, 21, dorky, doesn't belong in greasy overalls. Floyd climbs out of the tow truck with paperwork. Roland slowly peeks to find a tarp draped across the back seat. Reluctant, Roland lifts the corner of the tarp, exposing the dead bodies of Chloe and the unknown man on the floorboard of the car, entwined in such a way they actually resemble dolls. I'm going to need a couple of signatures and...

Floyd notices the two lifeless bodies in the car. Oh, my. Is that what I think it is? Uh oh, Roland clenches his fist. I cannot believe it. I just read an article in Popular Mechanics the other day. The newest version comes out next month and has some kind of AI technology that makes them more real. Like you won't even be able to tell. I'm talking settings to even create the voice you want.

It'll be as good as the real thing. Floyd reaches down and gently touches Chloe's hair. Even the hair will feel real. None of this fake stuff they've used on some of the older version. I mean real quality, not this brittle witch broom chicanery. Roland is speechless as Floyd fills out the paperwork. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, don't be embarrassed. We're human. There's no shame in it.

Sometimes the real thing is hard to acquire, I'll be honest. I'll be honest, my guy. it's a weird place to keep them. I'd advise maybe keeping the top up. You definitely want to keep them away from the sun, but to each his own. It's cool. No judgments here. God forbid my stepdad finds mine again.

I already had to replace the lips twice. Floyd gives him the paperwork to sign. Roland nods, relieved, while Floyd lowers the lips. Twice. Floyd gives him the paperwork to sign. Roland nods, relieved, while Floyd lowers the car. This one's on me, my guy. I'm gonna waive the fee. Floyd hands Roland his business card before climbing back in his truck with his signed paperwork.

You and I are the same. Roland smiles to please Floyd so he'll leave. Pretty close. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. We're the same. Roland smiles to please Floyd so he'll leave. Pretty close. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. We're the same per... You gotta say it with me, man. We're the same per se. You get me, you get me.

Roland cringes but plays along. AI technology. We've come a long way since blow-up dolls. Thank God. The tow truck drives away. I'll be thinking of you next month! Please don't. Avri un certo l'angorino Ovviamente no panino No, no, no!

Un boccone ricco di gusto Se conosco il posto giusto Siamo d'accordo su Sofia Tutti alla piadineria È tornata la solare con crudo e stracciatella Aggiungi salsa mango, aglio nero o peperone Amerai ogni boccone La piadineria, la più buona che ci sia. like a dying battery goes off somewhere in the back seat. Roland pauses, confused. Is Chloe a

robot? He snaps out of it, searching for the ringing device and discovers a cell phone in a puddle of blood. He answers it. How about we prevent future Chloe's from suffering a similar fate? Or we just consider everyone you know a Chloe and proceed from there. Sooner or later, it's going to be someone you love. And something tells me you're going to feel a little different. Or you fix this and avoid collecting any more toe tags in the process. It's your choice. Look in the glove box. Click.

Roland tosses the phone, eyeing the glove box, fully awarees the phone eyeing the glove box fully aware anything could be in there pumping himself up he starts rubbing his hands together he swiftly opens the glove box anticipating the worst inside lies a toe tag with his name on it Roland turns it over to find an address Monty exits Victoria's house, walking away from the mess. This is where you come in. Roland tosses the car keys to Monty, who catches them. The familiarity of car keys in his hands feels nostalgic.

Monty hesitates, then tosses the keys back to Roland. Good luck. I'm going home. I'll drive. Where are we going? A cab pulls up next to Monty. Monty glances back at Roland. This is goodbye. Monty opens the back door. Roland walks around to the passenger.

North Shore Drive. It's not far. Tyler clumsily slides over to the driver's side. Don't worry. We got this. A hand stops Tyler from starting the car. Get in the back. I'm driving. Tyler obeys as Monty quickly climbs in the driver's seat. Change of heart. Monty gives Roland a death stare.

That's Samantha's address. The station wagon abruptly pulls back from the driveway. She's pregnant. Francois scurries out of the house and barely gets in the back seat as they screech away. Exterior. Samantha's house. Later. A peaceful suburban neighborhood. Sound of tires screeching. The station wagon comes to a violent stop

in front of a home with a for sale sign. Monty jumps out of the car and hurries for the door. Roland jumps out, following after him. Monty, wait! Monty kicks the front door open. Samantha's house, continuous. The house is a mess. Sam?

Sam? Roland runs inside, tripping over furniture, trying to catch up. Monty! Monty grabs a baseball bat from a closet and hurries for the bedroom. Light shines through the crack of the door. He rams through the door and sees Killian lying on the bed, watching a home video of Monty and Samantha. As Monty lifts the bat to swing, Bonham tackles Monty into the bathroom, slamming the bathroom door shut behind him. Interior, Samantha's bathroom, continuous. Bonham shoves Monty hard. Bonham locks the bathroom door and stands firmly in front of it.

Monty picks up the bat and charges Bonham's swing. Bonham catches the bat with one hand. Where is she? Bonham snatches the bat away from Monty and pushes him to the ground. Bonham looks like he'll swing at Monty but shatters the bat on the bathroom counter. David versus Goliath. Samantha's bedroom, continuous.

Roland enters and sees Killian lying on the bed. Roland hurries to the bathroom door. Monty! Ooh, love to see that fire. What did you do with her? Slow down, take a seat. I just want us to have a few moments alone so we can discuss the present situation we're now in. Oh, this is my favorite part. Killian turns up

the volume. Roland sees the footage of Monty proposing to Samantha. Look at his eyes. He loves her a great deal. I mean, I had an idea that true love existed, but I never actually found such an obvious account. It's beautiful. No, but I'm confused. Yeah, I can't find you anywhere in any of these videos. Ashamed, Roland notices a small knife stuck upright in the dresser. Where is she?

Safer than the queen. Relax. Roland quickly snatches the knife and grabs Killian, pressing the blade against his throat. Well, the queen is fucking dead, so if you don't tell me where the fuck Samantha is, I swear to God, I'm gonna bury this in your throat. When does the baby do? By the looks of her any day now, I'm guessing it's a boy. They tend to lay low in the pocket, I'm guessing it's a boy they tend to lay low in the pocket.

I'm not fucking with you. Killian leans forward towards the blade and a thin stream of blood flows down his neck. Then do it. What makes you so fucking special, Roland? You're a fucking cartoon character running on fumes. You don't know a fucking thing about me, you sick fuck.

I know plenty. When I was know a fucking thing about me, you sick fuck. I know plenty. When I was bleeding all over my new kitchen, I thought, oh, he'll never make it out of here. Surely it's hopeless. Yet here you are and in perfect condition. Not a fucking scratch. Making me wonder if you've aligned with someone else. And on top of it, you lied to me.

I'm a lot of things, but I ain't a liar. Monty wasn't waiting in the car. Mm-mm. If you ordered a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, would you accept it without the jelly? Of course not. You'd fire the chef and burn down the restaurant. How are my odds looking now?

About as good as mine. Finally! We're on the same page. I hope you still have it. Of course I do. But that urn is the least of your worries. Why did that lunatic try to kill me? Who?

Dorian? Open your eyes, Roland. She's coming for me. Interior. Tyler's car. Continuous. Francois and Tyler wait in the station wagon on the lookout. This is so stupid.

Waiting inside this car while Mom goes in for some groceries. We're just sitting ducks out here. Tyler reaches forward to press the cigarette lighter. Yeah, I don't think we have enough feathers left to qualify as ducks. Francois notices a burn scar on Tyler's neck just below his shirtline. I bet that little number makes for a good story around the campfire. Francois points to the scar. Yeah, the last job we did, nothing went as planned. A shit show from the start.

Fuck, now that I think about it, it reminds me a lot of this job. Monty was already long gone. Roland tried to pull him back in. He was good at that. When they ran things, anyway what shit if the price was right pretty much anything under the Sun diamonds antiques planes trains if it could be moved they were moving it these guys were wild didn't give a fuck all caution to the wind the lucky ones is it it true Roland can drive?

Oh, he can drive just fine. He just shouldn't. Ever. Oh, he can drive just... Sorry. Smoke the time with the filters. The gentler on your throat. Oh, he can drive just fine.

He just shouldn't. Ever. Why not? Terrible things, man. Oh, he can drive just fine. He just shouldn't. Ever. Little by note. Terrible things, man. How do you think I got this souvenir? But have I learned anything? Fuck no. If I had any sense left, I'd walk home right now.

But I can't leave them hanging. Not like this. It's gotten too personal. Sometimes there comes a point you're so deep in this shit you just have to keep moving forward no going back I know what you mean Gillian's car pulls up in Samantha's driveway Tyler and Francois drop out of view two gunmen and suits get out of the car and walk towards Samantha's house Tyler peeks up and notices the guns. They have guns. They're going inside.

Do something. We can't just sit here. Tyler thinks fast, turns on the headlights and honks the horn. The two gunmen turn around, pointing their guns. Tyler kisses his gold amulet, starts the car and hits the gas as the two gunmen fire bullets into the windshield. Stuck down, Tyler speeds up towards them. One of the gunmen hits the windshield and goes flying in the air. The other man stays on the hood.

Samantha's bedroom continues. Honking continues outside. Roland, still with a blade to Killian's throat. How deep am I? The room is filling as we speak. But focus on the silver lining. You still have luck on your side. Concerned, Roland releases Killian and steps away. What's the plan, Roland? Do you even have a plan or are you just buying time until another lightbulb explodes?

Instantly, Tyler's station wagon with the gunmen on the hood crashes into the bedroom, violently pinning Killian between the bed and the wall, missing Roland by a hair. Roland sees Tyler struggling to their feet on the front lawn. Unconscious, Francois lays flat on the grass. We're gonna need a new car. Tyler hurries to remove the keys from the dead gunman. Interior, Samantha's bedroom, continuous. Having heard the loud commotion, Bonham leans against the door and pulls out his

gun. Monty grabs the large piece of the broken bat and stabs Bonham in the thigh, causing Bonham to drop his weapon. He picks up Monty, choking him in the air. On the verge of passing out, Monty kicks hard downward, breaking off the splintered bat in Bonham's leg. Bonham screams in pain, shoving Monty to the ground. Bonham struggles as he recovers his gun, prepares to shoot. Roland manages to bust through the door and jumps on Bonham's back, attempting a chokehold. Bang! A wild shot, missing Monty by inches. Roland secures the chokehold as Bonham misses another gunshot.

Fading, Bonham drops to his knees. Monty takes control of the gun and presses it against his head. Where is she? No response. Enraged, Monty fires a round next to Bonham's ear. Bonham passes out. Roland pulls Monty away. Let's go, Monty. No! We can't leave. Where's Sam? Come on! Hey, we'll find her. But we won't be able to do jack shit from a jail cell. Roland grabs Chloe's purse with a Jack in the Box toy from the front seat as he and Monty scramble out of the house through the hole where the car crashed. Exterior, interior, Samantha's driveway, Killian's car, continuous.

Tyler drags Francois by the hands and shoves him into the back seat of Killian's car. He hurries around the other side and jumps into the back seat, stunned to find Falcon Brute sitting in silence between them, with Francois passed out on his shoulder. Tyler removes his sunglasses to have a better look. He notices the large brass knuckles. Roland and Monty jump in the front seats. What the fuck is this? Monty starts the car as Roland turns around. I've been wondering that myself. Monty peels away as Bonham limps out of the house, firing shots at them. Monty pops the trunk to block the bullets as they speed down the street.

Inside the trunk, Samantha, 30, pregnant, girl next door. Terrified, stays low, trying to avoid the bullets. Interior-exterior, Killian's car, continuous. Monty swerves around a few corners. He pulls over next to a wooded area, white knuckling the steering wheel. Silence. Everyone but Francois in a state of shock.

Tyler smacks Francois awake. Close the trunk. Francois bolts out of the car. Francois approaches the trunk and sees Samantha escaping into the misty dark woods. He staggers to grab his ankle gun. He falls back as he aims in her direction. Samantha continues running away. Roland gets out of the car and sees Francois on his ass. Roland notices a figure running through the fog in the dark woods. Who the fuck was that? Francois shrugs. Well, don't just

sit there and watch. Go get him. Francois scrambles up and takes off after Samantha. Monty gets out of the car. What's taking so fucking long? My fiance is still missing. What a fucking snail. I'm on it. Roland runs off. Monty goes to close the trunk.

He recognizes Samantha's scarf inside. Stunned, he picks it up and smells it. He turns to Roland, running into the dark woods. Samantha? Monty takes off running after them. Samantha! Now, Tyler gets out of the car, joint in mouth, oblivious of the situation. He watches his partners running away. Hey, if you gotta go, you gotta go. He taps his pockets for a lighter. You don't happen to have a light on you, do you? Exterior, forest, continuous. Out of breath, Francois catches up to Samantha with the gun still in his hand. Stop! Damn it! Stop running, will you? Terrified, Samantha runs for her life. Francois grabs her by the shoulder.

She whips around, kicks him in the crotch, and follows him with a hard punch to the nose. Francois goes down in agony, accidentally firing off his shot. Monty hears the gunshot as he's running. Roland hears Monty and realizes who they're running after. Francois cowers in a fetal position. Samantha picks up the gun and points it at Francois. Roland comes running. Startled, Samantha looks up and fires two shots at Roland as he dives between the tree. Don't shoot, Samantha. It's Roland. Roland? Monty comes running up as she fires another shot, nearly hitting him.

Monty drops to the ground. Whoa! Baby, it's me. Monty! Overwhelmed, she passes out and falls on Francois with her head landing on his hands, covering his nose. Interior, exterior, Killian's car, later. Reclined in the front seat, Tyler smokes his joint in deep thought. All I know for sure, life is precious. You ever think about the word Thursday?

Like, what does that mean? You know, why did they decide to call it that? Or Wednesday, for that matter. Somehow, Sunday makes sense. You know, the sun is out, shining, the day of rest. But, you know... Tyler stops himself and sits up and turns to Falcon Brute, who hasn't moved an inch. You know what I like about you?

You're a good listener. No one listens anymore. They don't take the time. You don't feel the need to fill the air with pointless nonsense, and I really appreciate it. Sounds of leaves and twigs cracking in the forest. Tyler gets out of the car and sees Monty appearing out of the fog with Samantha in his arms. You found a girl in the woods? Monty walks past him, silent.

More leaves and twigs cracking call for Tyler's attention. Roland emerges from the fog, carrying Francois unconscious in his arms. Roland walks to Tyler and forces Francois into his arms. As Tyler slides Francois on one side in the back seat. Really? No comment? Nothing on this? Roland reaches inside and uses the leash to lead Falcon Brute out of the car. He gingerly places the leash over the brute's shoulder. Wait. I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me what the fuck is going on.

The car drives off, leaving Tyler and Falcon Brute standing next to each other on the side of the road. The car stops and backs up. The trunk pops open. Choose your battles wisely, my friend. Tyler sheepishly climbs into it. The car speeds off, leaving the falcon brute standing alone on the side of the road. Interior, yacht, night. Roland, Tyler and Francois look down at something intrigued. Hmm. Is he dead?

He's not dead. He's sleeping. Who sleeps like that? Dead people sleep like that. Dead people don't sleep. Wyatt! Wake up! All three men stare, mystified. Wyatt, 50, former pro surfer, passed out. Roland opens Wyatt's eyelid.

He slaps Wyatt hard. Tyler flinches at the thought of the pain. Check his pulse. Tyler reaches over. I'm not feeling anything. That's his earlobe, Einstein. What the fuck do you want from me? I'm not a doctor. If I told you to take his temperature, would you stick your toe up his ass?

A parrot lands on the window ledge, wearing a severed finger as a pendant around his neck. They all take notice. Rah! Fuck you! I'm Batman. Wyatt wakes up, seeing three men towering over him. He freaks out and responds by pulling out a small harpoon gun.

The three men duck, taking cover. Wyatt falls back, firing off the harpoon. Monty walks in as the harpoon hits the wall inches from his head. Monty stares at it in the final wobble. Holy... Christ, man, why did you just knock? I did knock, Wyatt. And he didn't have a finger around his neck last time I was here.

It's unsettling. I earned it. Wyatt points with his finger nub. Yeah, you did. Ruh, fair and square. Oh, where's my manners? I'm Wyatt. Wyatt extends his hand. You guys hungry?

Francois. Well, you can check the fridge, but I doubt it. Forgois, that's a fancy friend you got there. Wyatt smiles and gives Roland a big hug and kisses him on the forehead. God damn it, I thought you were dead. Wyatt sticks his finger nub into the bullet hole in Roland's shirt. He notices a scratch. Wyatt pours whiskey on it as Roland tries not to flinch.

Kinda close, aren't we? What's with the posse? You guys selling cookies or something? More like ourselves. Well, any friend of Roland is a friend of mine, man. I extend a certain allowance for newcomers for the first hour or so, then if I don't like you, well... Wyatt is silent for a moment, then laughs out loud. I'm just fucking with you, man. Hey, sorry about that itchy finger. No harm, no foul, right? You can't expect a cat not to scratch when startled.

Wyatt walks over to Monty. But seriously, I'd tie a cinder block around your ankles, and they won't find you for months, maybe years. Have you ever seen Goonies? Scary. Yeah, it's science. Wyatt yanks the harpoon out and places it in Monty's hand.

He walks over to the sink and scrubs his armpits with a soap bar. So what sort of shit has hit the fan to be graced with your presence, boys? The kind that stinks. We're just gonna lay low and collect ourselves. No trouble. No trouble. Trying lay low and collect ourselves. No trouble." No trouble? Trying to fall the wool over these eyes, you sly devil. If you're here, I know

you brought at least a little with you. Or it's coming. It's probably nipping at your heels right this second. Wyatt walks over to Roland and squeezes his cheeks. But it's all good, brother. Trouble's exactly what I'm looking for. I'm bored out of my fucking mind. What good's a boat with no waves? Roland pulls Wyatt by the arm into the next room. You kind of pinched me. Interior, yacht bedroom, continuous.

Roland leads Wyatt inside and closes the door as Wyatt plops down in a hammock. What the fuck, Wyatt? You sold me off to a fucking maniac. Relax, it can't be that bad. Well, fuck you, it is that bad. How bad? Bad, bad. Brother bad?

Roland stares silently. Oh, that is bad. Roland paces. Did you run? Roland resists the urge to choke Wyatt and leaves, slamming the door behind him. Exterior, Victoria's neighborhood, later night. Roland and Monty pull up in Killian's car in front of a house. They sneak up quietly towards Victoria's house

through the neighbor's backyards. How do you know it's still here? I told Victoria to put it in the safe. And she was a man of her word. After this, I'm done. For good. Uh- this, I'm done. For good. Uh-huh.

I'm serious. Uh-huh. It's gotten way too out of control. Before Roland can answer... I got a dead psycho squished between my mattress. Samantha is probably gonna leave me when she realizes the shit sandwich she's been rolled into. I am fucking done.

Tonight, we finish this. Yeah, yeah. I got it. Do you? Do you? Do you? Because it seems to be a recurring theme with you that I have to repeat myself a lot. But this is a partnership. Was.

Hey, we had something good going. Yeah, I know we did. But all things change, Roland. All chapters lead to new ones. This is a new one for me. I'm going to have a child. It can no longer be about me or even you. Roland scuffs. Huh. And what kind of time frame are we looking at here? 18 years at least. 18 years? What am I supposed to do for 18 years? You're the only family I got. Without you what do I have? All the luck in the world and no one to share it with.

God you need a girlfriend. No I need a friend. I'm not your friend, Roland. I'll never be your friend. That's right, because we're brothers through thick and thin. Roland offers out his hand. Unable to resist, Monty smiles and grips his hand tight. Through thick and thin.

We'll figure it all out. I promise. Roland and Monty approach Victoria's patio door. Roland pulls out a fancy lockpicking kit. Uncle Roland. It has a Victoria's patio door. Roland pulls out a fancy lock-picking kit. Uncle Roland. It has a nice ring to it. Can we just live through this first, please? Deal.

Hold on. They could be in there waiting for us. It's possible. Interior, Victoria's house, continuous. Flashlight in hand, Roland creeps down the hallway. He glances back and sees a figure passing by. Monty? Roland continuess down the hallway. He glances back and sees a figure passing by. Monty? Roland continues on into the bedroom.

Interior, Victoria's bedroom, continuous. Roland opens the safe in the closet, removes the urn, and exits the room. Interior, Victoria's kitchen, continuous. Monty is on the lookout, peeking through the blinds. Roland walks in, studying the urn. I'm surprised the nutbag didn't just keep it stuffed up his ass like some bug. Monty turns to him. What did you just say? Difficult to fit, I guess. Let me see that thing. Monty grabs the urn. Oh, you want to try?

Monty is unamused. He slides his hand around the edges. He flips it over. It's an urn. It don't need instructions instructions everything has fine print if you look close enough monty slides a small lever by accident revealing a hidden compartment concealing a gps bug with a red blinking light and the fine print is everything they both stare as the red light flashes on their face he's had to jump on us all this time. What kind of sick game is he playing? A dangerous one. You gotta remember, the cat doesn't kill the mouse right away.

He wounds him, lets him bleed for a while, and just keeps him around for amusement. Roland and Monty look at each other, registering the fear. Roland snatches the bug and crushes it under his shoe. Let's get the fuck out of here. They exit. The breeze from the fuck out of here. They exit. The breeze from the door reveals a wounded Killian hidden beneath a curtain, struggling

to release the falcon brute's wrath. But the leash is tangled in the curtain. Defeated, Killian gives up and lets go of the leash. He notices the red light of the crushed bug fading on the floor. Killian sinks his head in his hands. Mom. You gotta give me a sign. After a moment, he hits the wall in anger.

A single picture frame falls from the wall while the numerous others remain in place. The breaking of the frame draws Killian's attention. He reaches down and pulls the photo from the broken glass, revealing Roland on the yacht named, It's a Sign. A profound sense of renewed hope fills Killian. Fade to white, super, if you chase two rabbits, both will escape. End of second episode. Good job, lunch is outside. Let's get back at about 135. End of second episode.