[Steigenberger Hotel Herrenhof Wien, a five star hotel in the heart of Vienna, Austria.]

 

[The lobby is huge and lacks nothing for opulence. The patrons all look like they belong, fine suits and well tailored dresses as far as the eye can see. Save for one man in a pair of roach kicker cowboy boots, a pearl snap shirt and ratty old blue jeans hauling a stacked luggage cart, loaded to the gills with bags himself too.]

 

[Frank Dylan James never asked for this, he made some promises when someone he thought was a friend invited him to train and fight alongside him. Then that friend started hanging around Edward White… and everything changed. They had him signing paperwork, he worked for them then. He hauled their bags and fetched their car in addition to fighting their fights.]

 

“Over here, idiot… “

 

[Frank takes a deep breath and spies his employers across the somewhat crowded lobby. Edward White stands flanked by his manservant Nicky Corozzo and his tag team partner and current reigning FIST of DEFIANCE Bronson Box. All three men are dressed in suits befitting each of their unique senses of style.

 

A far cry from Frank’s rustic outerwear. Nicky rolls his eyes as Frank lumbers up to the group and unloads a few bags at their feet.]

 

Nicky:

We’re in the fanciest city in mainland Europe and you come down here dressed like you’re going to some podunk honkey tonk back in West Virginia. Are you seein’ this Mr. White?

 

[Ed is handed back what looks to be some sort of jet black credit card from an anxious looking little bellhop and looks over his shoulder at Frank.]

 

Edward:

For Christs sake Francis, where on earth are the clothes we bought you at the start of this tour? The black turtle neck, the black blazer. Look how sharp Mr. Corozzo always looks.

 

Frank: [under his breath]

Nicky looks a little Queer Eye, if’n ya’ catch mah meanin’...

 

[Bronson chuckles but doesn't look up from his phone.]

 

Bronson:

I think he just called yer’ man a poofter, Ed.

 

[The Socialite scowls as he gives The Mastodon a good shove, the big West Virginian stumbling backwards against the luggage cart. Edward gets right up into Frank’s face.]

 

Edward:

Are you willfully stupid or can you just not help yourself? I see why Eric was so ready to pawn your contract off on my company… you’re a goddamn imbecile. I give you every opportunity to step up and be counted. To be a part of our team, to be involved. But no, not Frank. He’d rather go out and make a FOOL out of me by chumming around week after week with Dusty Griffith and his genepool polluting freak ginger collaborators.

 

Are you TRYING to make myself and Bronson look STUPID Francis… ?

 

[Bronson’s eyeballs shift slightly from his phone towards Frank.

 

Ed’s eyes haven’t moved from Frank’s.]

 

Edward:

I have a right mind to ship you off to Alaska, I own a fleet of crab boats that sail out of there… you’d love it Frank. Weeks out in the freezing cold north Pacific. Or maybe my ore refinery in Russia. You’d have to learn the language of course and again, so damned cold. Or maybe…

 

[Frank bursts to his feet and gives The Socialite a big shove backwards.]

 

Frank:

OR MAYBE ANY OF THEM JOBS’D BE A MORE HONEST DAYS WORK THAN HAULIN’ YER GOT-DANG LUGGAGE’N FETCHIN’ YER’ CAR’N TAKIN’ YER’ SHEEEEEIT!  

 

[A hush falls over the lobby.]

 

[The one bag Frank still has clutched in his big meaty paw he throws right into Edward’s face. The bag opens and all of Edward’s expensive toiletries and several very expensive looking pieces of jewelry go pinging across the hard marble floor.]

 

Frank:

I ‘aint doin’ it no more! I’d rather you send me to got-dang communist CHINA than take another second’uh this BULLCRAP!

 

[The super rich are all appalled at not only this brute causing the scene but also the man that obviously brought this rabble into their hotel. Whispers about “those wrestlers” can be heard… Edward is beet red, a huge vein throbs against his forehead.]

 

Edward: [in a low voice]

You listen to me you goddamn gorilla! I’ve had it up to HERE dealing with your slovenly appearance and your ape-like hygiene!

 

Bronson: [rolling his eyes, tucking his phone away in his coat pocket]

Just fire him, Ed. Fire him or lets go, we have business once we get to Berlin. Remember?

 

[Ed’s beady little eyes don’t leave Frank’s.

 

The Socialite is simply seething.]

 

[Every passer by who makes quite comment about “those brute wrestlers” just seems to make The Socialite angrier and angrier at Frank.]

 

Edward:

No… no, that’s too easy. I want to RUIN this freak. Nobody makes a fool out of Edward White!

 

[Nicky tries to calm his boss down but Ed shrugs him off. Frank doesn't move an inch, he just wipes his nose on his sleeve and spits a huge wad of phlegm right at Edward’s feet.]

 

Frank:

You go ‘head and bring whatever you’re gunna’ bring boy, I ain’t givin’ too many fucks at’tis point.

 

[The Mastodon cracks a smile as Ed wrings the empty bag in his white knuckled fists.]

 

[Ed approaches Frank and in a low voice makes his challenge.]

 

Edward:

How about this. You and I face each other, one on one with your stupid contract on the line. Either way Francis I’ll be rid of you. If you manage to beat me you’re gone. But if I win? Oh God Frank if I win… we do exactly what you requested. I happen to be heavily invested in coal. Chinese coal to be exact. If you win I set you free…

 

If I win however you and your stupid Cheeto dust fingered beer swilling redneck “all-American” family get shipped off to communist China. Wear a mask though Francis. The chances of black lung go up exponentially with all that pollution in the air.

 

[Frank hesitates a moment, Edward’s lip twitching in anticipation of Frank’s answer.]

 

Frank:

Why… why not just fire me? Why not just ship me off? Why the game?

 

Edward:

Maybe my dear friend Bronson Box has rubbed off on me, Francis! Maybe I’m ready to make a SPECTACLE of you… maybe I’m just a gambling man. Either way. Accept, Francis. Accept and lets roll the dice, you and me. What do you say?

 

[Frank looks Edward up and down, hazarding a glance to Bronson just just smiles.]

 

Bronson:

Go on Francis. Once in a lifetime opportunity, this. Don’t think Ed’s in the mood to offer twice.

 

[FDJ leans in close, almost nose to nose with Ed. He shoves his banana sized index finger right into The Socialite’s chest.]

 

Frank:

I’ll see yer’ ass in Germany.

 

[The Mastodon turns on his heels and gives the luggage cart a good hard shove, knocking the cart over and spilling The Blood Diamonds luggage across the lobby floor.

 

Ed blows his top.]

 

Edward:

YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT YOU WILL YOU BEER SWILLING JACKANAPE!

 

[Ed’s head whips sideways as he grabs Nicky’s shirt collar and whips him towards the mess.]

 

Edward:

CLEAN UP THIS… [adjusting his volume] clean all this up. NOW!

 

Bronson:

Should be a good match, lad.

 

[The Socialite breaths an irritated sigh as he starts off towards the hotel bar.]

 

Edward:

Do shut up.

 

Bronson:

Lighten up, boy’o! Just think of what fun it’ll be watchin’ that big lummox bundle up his family and board a plane to the Orient! 

 

[Bronson grins and follows White.]

 

[As The Blood Diamonds retreat towards a night of fine dining and finer spirits Nicky Corozzo begins gathering his employers things by setting the luggage trolley upright. He can be heard mumbling under his breath as he irritatedly loads the bags back onto the cart.]

 

Nicky:

One of those rare situations where the shit actually rolls UPHILL…

 

[Fade to black.]