Table Read - VS - Act 2: The Grind – “Every Strike, Every Cut”

Episode Date: October 17, 2024

Act 2: The Grind – “Every Strike, Every Cut” The violence intensifies in Act 2, as alliances form and fall apart under the constant threat of death. Dana and Randall, once friends in the outside world, find themselves trapped in separate cages, trying to stay alive while watching others be cut down around them. The Promoter keeps the audience of faceless billionaires entertained with twisted commentary, while the Executioner steps in when a contestant refuses to play by the rules. Dana’s first match pits her against The Bum, a hulking figure with nothing to lose. But Dana, resourceful and determined, proves that survival requires more than brute strength—it demands cunning, and the will to do what’s necessary, no matter how horrific. She survives, barely, but the trauma of killing leaves a stain that no amount of blood can wash away. Meanwhile, Randall’s skills as a programmer are no longer an asset; they make him a target. As each fight passes, he becomes more entangled in the conspiracy behind Versus, uncovering clues that suggest the tournament isn’t just a sick game—it’s a lucrative, global operation, and those pulling the strings are untouchable. The middle act delves into the psyche of the captives as they’re forced to confront their worst selves. Friendships turn to betrayals, and desperation pushes even the most moral characters to do the unthinkable. When the Bodybuilder and the Gangsta square off in a bone-crushing battle, it becomes clear: no one can be trusted. No one is safe. About VS: "Sixteen people. Three rounds. One survivor. Welcome to the Versus Tournament, where everyday people must fight to the death—live-streamed for the darkest corners of the web. A brutal, high-stakes competition where only one escapes with their life... if they can survive the blood-soaked horrors within." Inspired by the dark and twisted imaginations of Scott Sigler, Versus is a full-cast performance podcast where Saw meets Gladiator in a terrifying, action-packed three-part saga. With Academy worthy sound design and a cinematic score that will leave you on edge, every moment is crafted to plunge listeners into the terrifying brutality of the tournament. Vist Us: https://www.tablereadpodcast.com/ Check Out Scott: https://scottsigler.com/

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. Randall Parker, ex-con turned programmer, thought he was done with his criminal past. But in the shadows of Silicon Valley, past never stays buried. When his friend Dana stumbles upon the job opportunity of a lifetime at Versus Incorporated, Randall's world begins to unravel. Joseph Cameronelli, their enigmatic boss, lurks in the background, his motives shrouded in darkness. This client is not someone you want to screw with, Randall.

I need you to get the software issue fixed and not fuck around. You got me? Dana's opportunity becomes a nightmare. I'm getting the hell out of here. You can leave in four hours, if you got what it takes. If you got what it takes. As Dana vanishes into the bowels of a mysterious warehouse, Randall finds himself trapped in a web of high-stakes financial intrigue, where $58 million in shady transactions hide a sinister truth.

It's in the second basement. This place has more than one basement? Has three, actually. What's in the bottom one? None of your fucking business. Now let's go. In a twist of fate, Randall's greed becomes his downfall. One flash drive, one fatal mistake. Now Randall is no longer a man with a name, with an identity. His captors dub him the Programmer,

one of 16 pawns in a game where the ultimate reward is life itself. I'd love to kill him, but then again, who wouldn't? Cue the lights, roll the cameras, and let the betting begin. It's time for the Versus Tournament, where every match is sudden death. Interior warehouse floor, Randall's POV. Camera blurry. Randall awakens slowly.

As camera comes half into focus, he sees he is on a concrete floor in a chain-link cage. A blurry woman is in the next cage, her fingers clutched in the chain-link fence. Her face right up against the wire. Camera comes into focus on Dana. Randall! What, you okay? She and Randall wear the same clothes from earlier in the day, but both now have a thick leather collar.

Randall doesn't seem to notice his yet. I think so. What the hell is going on? I don't know. I was in an interview, and then that big guy started asking me if I could fight and he slapped me around. I think he tased me, bro. Yeah, I think I got tased too. The same with all of us then.

All of us? Take a look around. A series of angles. They are in an abandoned warehouse. There's no sunlight, just glaring overhead lights. A 20x20 white canvas platform sits in the middle of the floor. There are 15 other cages surrounding the canvas. The cages are filled with people looking out.

Old lady, gangsta, bodybuilder, old man, cheerleader, the bum, single mom, hooker, sales guy, Samantha, boss lady, the Nazi, and husband. All of the characters are looking at Randall. He is the last to wake up. Actor is in the cage on Randall's right, Dana on his left. Randall! Randall, honey! Get me out of here! Samantha? I came for that interview like you said.

Why did you do this to me? He was trying to help you. This isn't his fault. Sam, I'll get you out of here. Randall looks up to the rafters. There are four white canvases hanging down. All are splotched and streaked with brown paint, like a modern art exhibit. The bottom right corner of each canvas is marked with artistic logo-like Roman numerals 1, 2, 3, and 4. Each has a weapon on it.

One has a black baseball bat. Two has a shovel. Three, a hatchet. And four, a brick. I didn't have no job interview. I just woke up here. The old man is in the cage next to the bum. When is the last time you bathed?

Jesus tells me I ain't gotta bathe. I gotta piss. Bum walks to the back of his cage and starts peeing through the chain link fence. Could this possibly get any worse? What the hell is going on here? Nobody knows. The interviewer either slapped us around or just tased us dropped a pen in my feet i went to pick it up then he hit me with that thing i want another shot of this

ass we all woke up in these cages mister they grabbed me on the street on my way home from practice please get us out of here come on on, girl, calm down. You need to keep it together. She's not handling this too well. Please, mister, get us out of here. Randall looks around. 16 cages, all have the electronic locks. These people expect him to save the day? How?

You look like a nerd. Figure something out. You geeks are smart. Help us. Randall realizes something is on his neck. He reaches for it. Don't, don't touch. Like a nerd? Figure something out. You geeks are smart. Help us. Randall realizes something is on his neck. He reaches for it. Don't touch.

Randall grabs it and gets a small shock. What the fuck? Randall, be careful. It's electrical. Like a souped up dog training collar or something. Why am I wearing a collar? We all have one. It goes off if you grab it, so don't.

Randall frightened and enraged grabs it again and receives a medium shot. Stay calm young man panicking won't help any of us. Someone please get me out of here. Jesus will you shut up you little bitch. Stop whining. She's just a scared girl. She's driving me crazy. The shakes. She's driving me crazy. The shakes are what's driving you crazy. You can get a fix when we get out of here, you filthy whore. Until then, just be quiet.

What did you say, you stupid bitch? You heard me. Everyone, just stop it. We need to stay calm and figure out what's going on. So I was going to say, in this whole thing, 37th to 38th, it should be building and the dialogue should be coming faster. We kind of really kind of get into it, and everyone's getting excited, and people are getting shocked, and shit's going down,

and I think people get a little excited, and the heart rate goes up, and they start, hey, wait a minute. I think dialogue starts coming faster on top of each other, and I'd love to hear that throughout this. Why don't we start with Randall's line, why am I wearing a collar? And Sean gave you line after line all on your own. Yeah, like four characters. Yeah, do your best there.

Okay, yeah. You know, we can separate it a little bit, but just become more impassioned with each one. Okay, cool. So why am I wearing a collar? You don't want me to show off. Here we go. Why am I wearing a collar? We all have one.

It goes off if you grab it, so don't. Randall, frightened and enraged, grabs it again and receives a medium shock. Stay calm, young man. Panicking won't help any of us. Someone please get me out of here. Jesus. Will you shut up, you little bitch? Stop whining.

She's just a scared girl. She's driving me crazy. The shakes are what's driving you crazy. You can get a fix when we get out of here, you filthy whore. Until then, just be quiet. What did you say, you stupid bitch? You heard me. Everyone, just stop it. We need to stay calm and figure out what's going on. I am just a tourist. I came here to see Haight-Ashbury, the city of love. Now I'm locked in a cage with a collar like an animal. That is what's going on. Thanks for filling this in, Fritz. My name is not Fritz.

Just take it easy, man. We're gonna get out of here. Hey, Tupac, do we have to sacrifice a Nazi? That's fine with me. I am no Nazi. I am a German citizen. I demand to see my consulate. There is no response. I wish I'd never come to this country. That makes two of us. Come on, everyone. Just stay calm. We're in this together, right? There is a brief pause as everyone stops to listen to actor.

Okay, now let's take care of the obvious. Has everyone tried their collars and got a shock? Everyone nods. Has everyone tried their door? Maybe the locks don't work on some of the cages. Everyone nods. Everyone nods except Randall. He moves to the door of his cage. Insert electronic lock. On the front of the door is an electronic lock, the small light glowing red.

Randall shakes the door, tentatively at first, then violently. But it does not open. He grabs at the lock and receives another small shock dang it sorry I should told you that all the doors do that okay so we all have the collars we're all stuck in the cages anyone recognize this place ask the whore I'm sure she knows abandoned buildings very well shut up you teabagging cunt you shut up you welfare taking piece of garbage how about this place? Ask the whore. I'm sure she knows abandoned buildings very well. Shut up, you teabagging cunt. You shut up, you welfare-taking piece of garbage. How about you, Tupac? How do

we get out of here? How in the hell would I know? Oh, come on. Like you've never been in a cage before? Why? Because I'm black? No, because you look like a drug dealer. You've been in jail before, haven't you? Gangsta is trying to be a calming force, but he's frustrated that he's stereotyped and that he has been in jail. Lady, I am trying to help. Try harder, thug. We don't need racism. Gangsta rattles his cage.

Dammit, just stop it! Just leave everyone alone, okay? When we get out of here, you can track us down and be as insulting as you like. Listen, all of you. I know everyone needs to get out of here, but I have kids at home. I really need to find a way out. Oh, give me a break. Don't play the parrot card here, lady.

I've got to get to my kids, too. So you guys should get to escape before anyone else. Is that it? I'm a father, too, and it doesn't matter. No one gets special treatment. We're all equal. We all work together. Right? The 16 exchange looks, then nod. Even boss lady. Samantha isn't nodding. She's looking up to the rafters. Hey, is that a camera up there? She points to the rafters. Insert expensive camera. The camera is mounted to a girder.

Back to scene. Yeah, and look, there's another up there on the other side. I'll look up the cameras. Insert a second camera. The camera moves, training the lenses on the various cages. Back to scene.

What? Someone is watching us? Heroic music blares from unseen speakers. None of the 16 have any idea what's going on. Off to one side of the canvas platform, a big flat board drops, revealing Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith sitting at an announcer's table.

Both wear headphones, blue eye masks, and matching blue blazers. A green screen is hung behind them. Each has a mounted microphone. To the side of them is a large screen showing the bracket, positioned so that the contestants can see it. The announcers talk to each other or to a camera mounted on their table. This camera shows broadcast angle, announcers. Broadcast angle, girder. From above, this angle looks like an establishing shot from an ESPN broadcast with swirling and flashing graphics. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Versus Number 5. Announcer camera POV.

This angle looks like SportsCenter. Polished announcers with a screen behind them Showing high quality motion graphics I'm Mr. Jones and with me once again is my announcing partner Mr. Smith Mr. Smith, so good to see you again Good to be back at Club Carnage, Mr. Jones With our 16 stereotypes

Ready to leave it all on the table Angle on Randall and Dana What the heck is all this? I don't know Is this a TV show? Angle on Randall and Dana. What the heck is all this? I don't know. Is this a TV show? Angle on announcers. 15 future losers and a soon-to-be champ, Mr. Smith. We'll look them up one side and down the other when they head out to get it on.

This is the Versus Tournament, where the real world gets real deadly. Where survivor isn't just a word. We're almost ready for the promoter to get this party started. Broadcast angle. Announcers. Win or go home is for pussies, Mr. Jones. Here you win or die. First round bets are in, Mr. Smith. If you are watching this, it means we received your one million smackaroos. You may now bet on the fighters and blocks of a hundred grand.

Bet it all on one fighter or spread it around like butter. All bets must be placed before the start of round one. If you don't bet all of it, we cut the signal. After eight of these bitches go down to Chinatown, we'll post new odds for the second round. You can bet another million then if you like and also for the semis and for the finals. Now, let's look at that bracket.

Insert tournament bracket. A 16-slot tournament bracket pops up. Eight lines on a side. The Versus logo is in the upper right-hand corner. Logo appears in all bracket shots and pairing shots. When each pairing is announced, it shows a blow-up of that bracket, along with the face pictures

that were taken in the interviews. Each person's face has information next to it. Their stereotype name, their seed number, and their odds. We open in the East bracket with Old Man against Cheerleader. Winner of that faces the victor of Dyke vs. Bum. Bottom half of the East gives us Old Lady battling it out against Husband. Maybe she can gum him to death.

The gangster and bodybuilder both look like potential first seeds. give this old lady battling it out against husband. Maybe she can gum him to death. Ha ha! The gangster and bodybuilder both look like potential first seeds. So in true versus tournament style, we let them open up against each other. No easy path to the finals, Mr. Smith, but the winner of that one is the odds-on favorite to take it all. This intercut with reaction shots of the 16. Some disbelieving, some horrified by what they are hearing. Right you are, Mr. Jones.

And in the West bracket, we've got top-seeded actor up against hooker. The victor of that big titty tilt tackles the winner of marketing hack versus programmer. And finally, in the bottom half of the West, a classic stereotype duel between sales guy and single mom, as well as one we're really looking forward to, Boss Lady and the Nazi. Normal angle on announcers.

Well, Mr. Jones, it's time to meet our host, the prince of pageantry, the promoter. House lights dim and spotlights come on, pointing to a doorway that leads to a back room. At the side of that door, Enforcer sits in an ornate chair. Through the door comes the Promoter. In addition to his white suit and mask, he now has a white top hat and a white pimp cane. Promoter is followed by Executioner, dressed in his all-black suit and mask.

He carries a Luger with a silencer. Enforcer stands and falls in alongside Executioner. Promoter walks onto the white canvas, spotlights tracking him all the way. Broadcast angle, girder. Promoter stands in the middle of the canvas platform, surveying the 16. He always does this, Mr. Smith. He likes to take one last look before he tells them the rules. What the hell is going on here? Promoter produces a white microphone. Welcome to Versus!

He raises his hand and drops it with a flourish. The music cuts out, filling the warehouse with chilling, fading echo. You're in charge of all this? Listen, man. These people ain't done nothing to you. Promoter gestures to the Enforcer. Insert keyboard. Enforcer's gray-gloved hand hits a button marked Gangsta. The hand reaches for a slider as Gangsta keeps talking.

You let us out or I'm gonna- Enforcer moves slider halfway to the right. Angle on Gangsta jumping in shock, twitching, his hands flying to his neck. Promoted gestures again and the shock cease. You are here to compete in a tournament. A tournament like no

other. No professional fighters, no trained warriors, just normal people fighting for survival. Today, each of you will find out how badly you want to live. When your cage door opens, you have 15 seconds to get on this platform, or this will happen to you. The enforcer hits the button. The fighters convulse in agony. The shock lasts for five seconds, then stops. You have two

choices. Kill or die. A fight ends only when you or your opponent is dead. Versus is about action. If there is no action, we start an overtime clock. Promoter gestures to a large digital clock on the wall. Insert digital clock. It is the same size as a basketball shot clock. The numbers 30 seconds flash up in red. Back to scene.

When those 30 seconds pass, I will decide who wins and who dies. Please, stop it. I can't take this. A quick gesture from promoter. Enforcer hits the button. The girl screams, falls to the floor, and riles. No!

You stop it, goddammit! Another gesture from the promoter, and husband suffers shocks. No! Promoter gestures again, shocks stop. The warehouse is totally silent, save for the cheerleader's sock. Win three fights, kill three times, and not only are you free, you win one million dollars. Have no doubt, this is real. For those about to

die, we salute you. First up, the old man versus the cheerleader. Promoter and executioner go back through their door. The enforcer walks to the announcer's table. He reaches into a weapons bin and pulls out two Bowie knives. He walks to the center of the platform and sets the knives on either end. He then walks back to his ornate chair and sits. Angle on teenage girl's cage lock. The light turns from red to green. The cage swings open. Angle on old man's cage lock.

His lock does the same. Broadcast angle girder. Insert. Pictures of the old man's cage lock. His lock does the same. Broadcast angle girder. Insert. Pictures of the old man and the cheerleader. Hers is a senior picture. His is a smiling photo from the same kind of interview Dana went through. Below the pictures, a list of their physical stats a la UFC Tale of the Tape. Cheerleader is 5'6", 115 pounds. She's athletic, but can't seem to handle the situation, so they seeded her at number seven. The pre-fight interview revealed that old man served in Vietnam. He may be old and out of shape, but unlike the other fighters,

he has combat experience. That nabbed him the number two seed. And as we've seen in previous tournaments, that kind of experience is a huge factor. Angle on warehouse floor. The old man and the cheerleader won't leave their cages. Insert Enforcer's gray gloved hand on the slider. Enforcer hits two buttons, then holds a slider.

When the slider is all the way to the left, the shock is mild. When it moves to the right, it is nearly lethal. Get on that. No. No way. This is insanity. Insert enforcer's gray-gloved hand on the slider. The enforcer slowly moving the slider to the left. This intercut with, after a few seconds, the cheerleader screams and runs out onto the platform. A few seconds more and the old man runs out hands clutching at his collar. The enforcer slides the switch all the way to the left turning off the shock. All promoter VO dialogue is over a PA system.

Pick up the knives. I can't. I can't. Mister, please don't stab me. Take it easy. I won't hurt you. You will do more than hurt your old man. Kill her or die. Then I will die. Cut to interior back room.

Promoter is seated at the table in front of the microphone. Engineer is at his computer station. Executioner is standing. They are all still wearing their masks. Promoter signals to Engineer to cut the room mics so spectators at home can't hear the conversation. Ah, they're not gonna fight. Ah, just like in Versus number two.

It appears my services may be needed sooner than I expected. Welcome to the big time, pal. The overtime clock is your cue. Interesting. I wonder what would happen if things didn't go as planned this early in the game. We've got 58 people who each bet a million bucks on this round. This thing is timed so we can start and finish before the cops even know what's happening. If we get shut down before the finals, you want to be the one to tell our bosses they have to give back 58 million? I'm sure they would be less than pleased if the tournament did not give us a championship bout.

Good. Then take care of this. Executioner stands. He lifts his foot and slides his handkerchief off the chair and onto the floor. He smooths down his outfit, making sure everything is in its place. Angle on warehouse floor. There is a tense moment of silence as neither the old man nor the cheerleader make a move. Then, without warning, a basketball air horn sounds,

and the overtime clock starts to tick down from 30 seconds. When the clock hits zero, one of you will die. Please stop this! Broadcast angle girder. The two top-mounted cameras cut back and forth between the fighters. The overtime clock is superimposed in the upper right-hand corner. It reads 26 seconds and counting. Well, it looks like this one starts the same way as Versus 1, 2, and 4 started.

Correct, Mr. Jones. Our audience has to remember that while perhaps they have seen previous tournaments, the fighters have not. The old man and the cheerleader just don't believe that they have to fight to the death. Gothic music plays. Executioner walks out of the door,

strides slowly across the canvas platform. Oh, snap! Here come the judge. If the overtime clock... You can't buttle his talent. If the overtime clock runs out, the Executioner will do his thing. The overtime clock reads 12 seconds

and counting. Cheerleader is still crying. Executioner moves with confident ease. He steps onto the platform. He draws the silenced Luger and holds it at his side. He stands there, unmoving. Angle on Old Man, looking at the knife. He's killed before.

It would be so easy to slit the girl's throat. He shakes his head, chasing away the thought. I won't be a part of this madness! Old Man sits down on the canvas and crosses his arms. Cheerleader picks up the knife, points it at Old Man, then screams in near insanity and drops it. The overtime clock ticks down to zero and the basketball horn sounds again.

Angle on announcers. Time is up. They just wouldn't listen, Mr. Smith. Executioner looks ready to go. Let's see what the judge decides. Angle on warehouse floor. The old man could have easily defeated the cheerleader. He had the advantage and did not use it. Therefore, cheerleader wins. Executioner raises the Luger and shoots the old man twice in the chest.

Blood spatters onto the white canvas. The old man falls to his side, gasping. Executioner walks over to the old man, points the gun at his head, and pulls the trigger. Executioner lifts the gun, blows away the smoke filtering out of the barrel. He puts the weapon away, then turns and walks off the canvas. This intercut with a series of angles. The 14 other fighters react differently.

Some stare blindly. Others are enraged. Others hide their head in their hands. Oh, sweet Jesus! You fucking bastards! That's the wrath of the Lord. The enforcer walks onto the mat and drags away the old man's body, leaving a streak of red and chunks of wet brain. You've all sinned, and that's what happens to sinners. Cheerleader, get back in your cage. The cheerleader sprints to her cage.

The doors swing shut and the lock light turns from green to red. The enforcer collects the bowie knives and puts them in the bin. He grabs two shovels, walks and places them on the mat. Now you all see what the stakes are. Let the next fight begin. Angle on Dana's cage. Lock turns from red to green, door swings open. Angle on Bum's cage. Lock turns from red to green, door swings open.

Broadcast angle. The Upper East Bracket. Teenage girl's name moves to the next round. Underneath the old man and cheerleader bracket is Dana and Bum. Insert the tail of the tape. Dana's photo is from her interview with the enforcer. The Bums is of him passed out on some city street.

A five versus three matchup. Probably the day's first real fight. Bum is six foot two, 210 pounds. He's got a size and reach advantage, but he's in bad shape. I'll tell you right now, the dyke is my sleeper pick. She's a girl, sure, but look at the physique on this one. When it comes to Lesbo Lovin', we know which one wears the strap-on. I think she'll beat the bum, then kill the cheerleader to reach the final four. That's a bold but logical assessment, Mr. Jones. We'll see soon enough.

Angle on warehouse floor. Dana has not left her cage. Bum is already on the mat, clumsily swinging his shovel. Angle on Dana. I can't do this. Get out there or he'll shock you. Bum is standing on the canvas, holding his shovel, smiling.

Come out of that cage, sinner! If I go out there, I'll die. I can't do it. Dana lurches as her collar starts to shock her. No, no, no, please, please. The shock increases. She screams, runs onto the mat, and grabs a shovel just to make the shock stop. You look like a snatch wicker.

Basketball horn sounds. Bum walks around arrogantly. He is stumbling a bit, but very confident, like a drunken man ready to pick a fight. Dana clutches her shovel and keeps the point toward Bum. She is wide-eyed and terrified. Oh, you are a snatch licker, ain't ya? Dirty gay sinner. Shut up!

Leviticus 2013. If there is a woman who lies with a female as those who lie with a man, both of them have committed a detestable act. They shall surely be put to death. Their blood guiltness is upon them. Bum advances with righteous fury. He swings his shovel. Dana parries the blow, an instinctive reaction.

Stop it! Sinner! Bum swings again, hits Dana on the shoulder. She cries out in pain. Reacting on adrenaline and instinct, she swings the shovel and hits Bum on the knee. He drops to one knee.

Dana immediately hits him in the face with the flat of the shovel. Bum falls to his back, bleeding from the nose and mouth. He is groggy and can't get up. There! There, I won! Okay, now let me go! Finish him! No, no, no way!

The basketball horn blares. Overtime clock starts ticking. No, no, I won't kill him. I can't. Dana has the advantage. Bum starts to rise, panicking. Dana whacks him in the back of the head. Bum falls flat again.

Clock ticks past 20. Broadcast angle, girder. A close-up of Dana. She's having a nervous breakdown. She has to kill to live. This is drama. This is tension. Do you think she'll do it? A close-up of Dana. She's having a nervous breakdown. She has to kill to live. Oh, this is drama. This is tension.

Do you think she'll do it? But she's got to do it, unless she wants to eat a bullet. And bullets aren't all that tasty, Mr. Jones. Insert overtime clock ticks past 12 seconds. Back to scene. Gothic music plays. Executioner comes out of the door and starts walking towards the platform. No, no, no, don't do it, don't do it! Angle on Gangsta.

You won! Do it, it's you or him! Angle on Boss Lady. Kill him already! Insert. Overtime clock ticks past six seconds. Back to scene. Executioner slowly raises his gun.

Over the shoulder shot of Executioner in foreground, Dana standing over Bum in medium ground, and overtime clock ticking down in background. As the clock ticks down to three seconds, then two, Dana screams and raises the shovel. Broadcast angle girder. Waist-up shot of Dana as she drives the shovel point into the Bum's throat. Blood splashes up onto her, although we don't see the shovel go in.

The amount of blood leaves no question that the bum is dead. And we have a winner! You called it! The dyke wins! The bracket appears. The dyke's name flashes on the winner's line, showing she will next face cheerleader. Angle on warehouse floor. Dana throws down a shovel and sprints to her cage. The door swings shut behind her. She has blood all

over her hands, face, and chest. She tries to wipe it off her face, but just smears it around. You had no choice. They would have killed you. Dana, you had to. Oh my God. Oh my God. Why? Why? Why? Why? We will get out of this. We will. Don't come out here, Randall. Don't make me do it. Samantha's voice makes him forget all about Dana. This can't be happening to him. Not Samantha. Announcer angle.

And for the first time ever, we have a love interest, Mr. Jones. That's right, Mr. Smith. The marketing hack and the programmer were an item. A series of inserts. Facebook profile pages. Pictures clearly show it's Randall and Samantha, but names have been fuzzed out. Facebook photos of Randall and Samantha together, then Samantha partying with and kissing other men. Randall's status says, in a relationship. With marketing hack. But hers? Single.

Ooh, that burns. And it'll take more than a shot of penicillin to make that burn go away, Mr. Smith. How about a pair of head shears, Mr. Jones? Would that stop the burning sensation? I think it would. Let's find out. Moving shot. Randall's POV. He slowly walks out of the cage. Samantha is already waiting for him.

She's holding a pair of head shears with two foot long blades. The shears tremble in her hands, but she is pointing them towards Randall. She is determined to live. Broadcast angle girder. Mr. Jones, your thoughts on marketing hack? Insert the tail of the tape. Samantha's picture is the same as Dana's, clearly from an interview with Enforcer. Samantha's picture is the same as Dana's, clearly from an interview with Enforcer. Randall's is his Facebook profile pic. My thoughts? Five-six, a buck ten, and would you look at that ass? What a spinner!

Well, how about athletic skills? Oh, in her interview she said she works out five times a week and takes kickboxing classes at her gym. I'd say watch out for marketing hat. Well, she's gonna have to whip up a big batch of whoop-ass if she's going to get past Programmer. He's a computer nerd, so will he fight smart? He's 5'8", short for a guy, but looks like he has a slight reach advantage. And with those head-trimmer blades, a reach advantage is critical.

Let's go to the action. Angle on warehouse floor. Randall is freaking out. He picks up the shears with trembling hands. Randall, do something. Basketball horn sounds. I don't know what to do. They have guns.

You got me into this. Do something. I have to kill you. But I love you. Broadcast angle, Gurner. What a story. What a story. What a story. Mr. Smith, we're looking at serious heartbreak here.

Sam, don't. We can't do this. They'll kill us anyway. If you really love me, just put down the trimmers. We can't do this. They'll kill us anyway. If you really love me, just put down the tremors. You know you won't make it through. You're too weak, but I can make it. Just put down the tremors.

I... Angle on Randall crying. He holds the tremors in his left hand, wiping away tears with his right. As he does, he hears footsteps coming toward him. He looks up to see Samantha rushing. A wide-eyed, mascara-streaked snarl on her face. Randall backs away so fast, he runs right off the platform and onto the warehouse floor. He only takes three steps before he is shocked. His hands fly to his neck and the shears drop.

Samantha tries to press the advantage, but as soon as she steps off the platform, she too is shocked. Both fighters scramble back up onto the platform. Randall grabs his shears on the way back. They square off. I don't want to do this! You have no choice, programmer. My name is Randall! I'm a human being, not some character, you sick bastard! As Randall yells, Samantha sees an opportunity

and rushes in, shoving the shears at Randall's face. Randall flinches back, Samantha's blades barely missing his eyes. As he flinches, his own shears at Randall's face. Randall flinches back, Samantha's blades barely missing his eyes. As he flinches, his own shears drop to waist level. Samantha's momentum carries her in too fast. Randall's shears punch into her stomach, then up into her body through her heart. She stops when she is face to face with Randall,

their lips almost touching in a kiss. She starts to fall, but Randall catches her. Broadcast angle girder. Randall is holding Samantha. Were it not for the tournament, they might be lovers in a tender embrace. Hello, welcome to the land of Killshot Population 1! Where did that come from? Wow, we'd better keep an eye on this programmer.

He's as cool as the other side of the pillow. Angle on canvas. Randall holds Samantha in his arms. Blood is spreading across her shirt. I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't... I...

Samantha tries to speak, but coughs, splattering blood on Randall's face. Samantha seizes, then dies in Randall's arms. Randall gently sets her down on the canvas. The enforcer, still carrying his controller, steps onto the platform, ready to drag away Samantha's body.

Randall stands and looks at his hands, covered in blood. Rage washes across his face. We haven't seen him like this yet. Fear is gone. Only hate remains. Randall grabs the shears and rushes at Enforcer. Enforcer pushes a button, giving Randall a large shock.

Randall collapses, convulsing. Insert Enforcer's hands, moving the slider higher and higher. Stop it! You're killing him! Enforcer moves the slider back. He drags Randall to his cage and throws him inside. Close shot of Randall coughing, still twitching, feeling the effects of the deep shock. Broadcast angle. Insert tail of the tape. Actor's photo is his head and shoulder shot. Broadcast angle. Insert tail of the tape.

Actor's photo is his head and shoulder shot. Hooker's is from an ErosSF.com ad. Woo-hoo! Quite a looker here. Five foot ten and check out those gams! Ah, those legs might do her some good if there was anywhere to run, but she's up against a number one seed. Picture changes to actor. Actor is six foot2", 190 pounds. He's in great shape. He's at theater combat training,

so he knows how to handle the utensils. Heh. Angle on canvas. Medium shot of actor looking down at something in his hands. He raises his hand slowly. We see he's holding a pickaxe. The hooker is also holding a pickaxe, but it's obviously heavy in her hands. She's shaking, badly in withdrawal.

Basketball horn sounds. I'm sorry. I have to. Just another man that can't help himself, right? I'm not gonna just let you hurt me. I'm not gonna be your victim. Right on, sister! Cut that asshole! The hooker attacks. Her attacks are clumsy.

Actor parries them easily. He is clearly familiar with hand-to-hand weapons. The fight continues for a few seconds, then actor buries the pickaxe in the hooker's leg. She screams and falls. Her hands clutch the leg, blood squirting through her fingers. Actor pulls the pickaxe free and mentally readies himself for the final blow. He lifts the axe. Oh, please, God, no. Don't kill me. Actor is tortured. He lowers the axe. Oh please god no! Don't kill me! Actor is tortured. He lowers the axe, then raises it again.

No! Please! I don't want to die! You can't make me do this! The basketball horn sounds. Wide shot of actor and hooker with overtime clock framed between them. The clock starts ticking down from 30 seconds. Actor looks at it once, then raises the pickaxe.

Oh, please, no! The hooker's words are cut off as actor's pickaxe punches through her head. I don't know if you've ever been hit with a pickaxe, but when I was hit with a pickaxe, my screen was really, really big. I survived it. But yeah, if you could just give me a really kind of a really blood-curdling. Okay. That's somebody who's been hit with a pickaxe. Broadcast angle.

Picture shows actor's name appearing in the winner's slot, right above programmer. They fight next round. And that one is outta here! Actor really let it rip on that swing. Broadcast angle. Announcers. I know that Hooker has taken a lot of shots to the face in her career, but that's the last one.

Unless they're tricks. God. I'm so sorry. I normally don't do that, but that line was written so well in your credit, so great. I know that Hooker has taken a lot of shots to the face in her career, but that's the last one. Unless her tricks are necrophiliacs. Oh, that's cold, Mr. Smith. Angle on Randall and Dana.

Huddle together, fingers entwined through the chain-link fence that separates them. Randall is shaking. His eyes are wide in shock. Both are bloody, stunned. Dana has recovered somewhat. Her friend needs her to be strong. We had to do it. We all have to.

I killed her. You had no choice, Randall. She would have killed you. It doesn't matter. I killed her. What are no choice, Randall. She would have killed you. It doesn't matter. I killed her. What are we gonna do? Do? We fight. Or we die.

Broadcast angle. Insert tale of the tape. Photos of sales guy and single mom are both from interviews with Enforcer. It's Revenge of the Used Car Salesman. Six foot even, 210 pounds. He's a fighting nightmare in a plaid jacket with 0% financing through September. Switches to picture of secretary.

But can he get it up against the single mom? She's 5'7", 130, a little junk in the trunk, but she's still got spunk. She's a single mother of three with a five, six, and eight year old at home. She's also apparently a great cook, Mr. Jones, and makes a mean batch of brownies. Then the sales guy will have to kick the Duncan Hines out of her. She chases those little brats around all day, so maybe she'll have the endurance advantage if this fight goes the distance. Only one way to find out, Mr. Jones. Let's go to the action.

Angle on canvas. Sales guy and single mom are circling. They hold butcher knives. Basketball horn sounds. Angle on Randall and Dana. You better watch this. You might have to fight one of them. Randall nods and walks to the front of the cage. He is still stunned by what he had to do.

Angle on canvas. There is no talk this time. All the competitors know the deal. Single mom is scared, but she's not crying. She moves with speed and grace. Sales guy looks clumsy. I think she's going to beat him. Randall watches sales guy.

Something about the way the man moves bothers him. Single mom makes two quick stabs. The sales guy shuffles back very fast, very athletic. As soon as he's out of range, he acts clumsy again. Angle on Randall and Dana. Hey, he's playing possum. Why would he do that? I don't know. Angle on Canvas. Single mom fakes a thrust, then tries a lunging swipe aimed at the sales guy's jugular. He sidesteps and catches her arm under his, pinning it, then stabs her five times in the chest, rapid fire style. Single mom barely has time to realize what's happening

before sales guy drops her to the canvas. That must be a Homer Simpson, because she just said... Don't say hello to his little friend! Angle on Randall and Dana. Jesus, he moves fast. Randall looks at the brackets. Insert brackets. Randall sees that if he lives through his fight with Actor,

he would face Sales Guy in the semifinals. How am I gonna beat this guy? I'm gonna die here. Dana wants to console him, but she doesn't know what to say. She knows she will probably die too. End of episode two. Excellent, everybody.