A fuming Scott Woodson is seen inside one of the large repair bays on board along with RICK. They face each other nearby a workbench littered with tools and a multitude of projects in various stages of completion. They seem to be in deep discussion:
Woodson: …and then, boom! How did you let his squirrely ass go? We had that match. In. The. Bag.
He slaps the back of one hand into the palm of the other for effect as RICK hangs his head in shame.
Woodson: What did we talk about, RICK? Hmm? Split them up…trust the system. But you didn’t do that, did you? No, of course not! You had to show how big and strong you are…and WHAT DID IT GET US?! It got us NOTHING, RICK…absolutely NOTHING!
Woodson grabs a large pipe wrench from the table and smashes it into the workbench leaving a sharp, deep dent in the metal surface, causing RICK to jump slightly.
Woodson’s voice suddenly drops in pitch and takes on an almost calm tone, but the look in his eye shows a completely different side of him emerging.
Woodson: Now it’s time to refocus…it’s time to look deep into our hearts and let the HATE flow! No more being laughed at…no more being used…
Woodson taps the pipe wrench in his hand slowly as RICK looks on, listening intently.
Woodson: …it’s time to go after all of those disloyal pieces of shit, one by fucking one, and that starts now…
Suddenly Woodson swings the pipe wrench at RICK’s midsection with a sickening thud, doubling the big man over, and following it up with a spinning blow to the back of the neck, sending RICK to the floor. Capitalizing immediately, Woodson stands over a stunned RICK, swinging the pipe wrench at his prone body over and over again.
After easily a dozen hard blows he rights himself, the sick, sadistic smile spreading across his face.
Woodson: …that’s right, RICK…it starts with you. The one person who I thought had my back. The one person I thought was loyal…but you weren’t, were you? How were those hot dogs? Hmm? Did they…
Again, Woodson slams the pipe wrench into RICK’s chest three times, as each word escapes his lips.
Woodson: Hit. The. Spot?
He tosses the pipe wrench behind him and it lands with a metallic ringing on the floor. Woodson circles around RICK and begins stomping his downed teammate, who still hasn’t had a chance to recover from the surprise attack, finishing off with a soccer style kick to the back of the head.
Woodson: You’re pathetic, RICK. Abso-fucking-loutely pathetic. So was Matt Klazzic. You were nothing but a tool…a dollar store ratchet at best…and now I’m doing exactly what you do with a piece of shit tool.
Woodson picks up a nearby trash can and dumps it all over RICK. Bits of half eaten food, drink containers, papers, bits of metal…all unceremoniously emptied on his prone body, followed by the crash of the trash can itself as Woodson slams it into his former partner before dropping it beside RICK’s head.
Woodson: HATE to break it to ya…but you’re out.