The scene fades into Steve Solex seated at a booth inside of the Chicago area Denny’s. He drinks from the 80’s style coffee mug you’d see at any two-star restaurant. A mid fifties waitress approaches Steve and slides a bill on the table.
“Just the bowl of frosted flakes?” She asks, leaning onto the table.
Steve pulls a pack of Marlboro’s from his shirt pocket, pops the pack open with his nose and pulls a cigarette from the box with his teeth.
“That’ll do-er. Thanks,” Steve says, muffled behind his clenched teeth.
The camera cuts to a close up of Steve as he fires up the cigarette with his US Army engraved Zippo lighter.
“It couldn’t get any more obvious,” he says, winking and taking a deep drag of his cigarette. He exhales a stream-cloud of smoke out of the side of his mouth.
“Motherfuckers wanna be clever and think they’re being subliminal but they’re not.”
“I get it.”
“I fuckin’ lost.”
“99 personalities, and a champ ain’t one,” he says, half smiling at his own joke. He holds the cigarette near his lips between two fingers, but never takes a drag. Instead he points into the camera.
“So fuck it, let’s just go ahead and get passed the bullshit,” he laments.
“They’re gone, it’s over!”
“Nobody gives a fuck anyway,” he says before taking a drag of his smoke. “…And I’m sure nobody even fuckin’ knows what I’m talking about.”
“So, I’m tired of it. I’m done. It’s over. It’s run its course.”
“I retake control, starting now,” he says in a firm voice, pointing into the camera.
“I’m not the weak one, I never was. It was all for TV. Haven’t you seen Identity, Fight Club, Glass…any of those fuckin’ movies? That’s what that bullshit was, only I could never get to the end of it…cause I never liked it. So, I kept falling off…over and over again,” he says, extinguishing his cigarette in the saucer under his coffee mug.
“And I know it was my fault,” he continues.
“What started as fire, ended up like an icepack on the nuts. Cold and uncomfortable if left on for too long. And that’s what happened. It was left on for way too fuckin’ long.” he says.
“That’s not a great analogy, but that doesn’t mean you should get it twisted this ain’t a motherfuckin’ apology. Cause I’m not sorry for losing. Shit happens, and it’ll probably happen again.”
“So fuckin’ what.”
“This is a redo. Don’t call it a comeback. It’s a redo. Fire the writers and crew, and let’s get this fucker started over.”
“The three amigos…are done. I’ll go back to cutting promos in a damp, cement-walled basement while punching a weathered heavy bag, before I ever go back to whatever the fuck that was. I’ll go back to riding Harleys like I’m Jax fuckin’ Teller. I’ll go back to giving bad parenting advice to an unrelenting shit bag kid and fake-flirt with some dollar-store bitch to get oo’s and awe’s from a live studio audience before I ever go back to that bullshit.”
“I’m the Soldier.”
“That’s who the fuck I am.”
“I’m a combat veteran.”
“I’m a class above the rest of you assholes in HOW, that’s a motherfuckin’ fact. LARPing like you’re tough, don’t come at me.”
“Take a bullet in the chest and then dive behind a machine gun, so you can mow down the enemy one by one…like I did.”
“That’s the shit that puts hair on your motherfuckin’ nuts,” he says, slightly smiling.
“That’s the kind of shit that makes warriors,” his eyes grow intense as he points his finger into the lens of the camera.
“So don’t bother talkin’ any kind of shit to me, until you do. You pansy fucks.”
“I’m a fuckin’ Alpha. Y’all are my beta’s. It’s okay for y’all though, cause the world need it’s betas too. Someone’s gotta cook food for the Alpha.”
“So, now…I get to go against Beta Bobby Dean.”
“Yawn,” he says, which triggers an actual yawn.
“Insert a fat joke here,” he says, jamming his index finger into the table.
“What am I gonna do to Bobby Dean that Low-Testosterone and Diabetes hasn’t already done?”
“Bobby’s one month away from holding a candlelight vigil for the foot he’s gonna lose due to his erratic glucose levels, and he’s booked in a fuckin’ wrestling match?”
“Fuck outta here,” he says waving a hand at the camera.
“But per the usual I’ll do what I’m told, like a good Soldier…I don’t give a fuck. Whether I’m aligned with Lee Best or not, I know who the fuck I am. I’ll merc any of these bitches any night of the week, if I feel like it.”
“Problem is,” he says before taking a drag of his smoke and quickly exhaling it, ”…I haven’t.”
“But now I do. It’s like a twitch I’ve got.”
“Unfortunately for Bobby Dean, he’s the one I get to take all of my anger and frustration out on.”
“Unfortunately for Bobby Dean, I’ve made this a priority.”
“I mean, it makes sense,” he says, gritting his teeth and pointing to the staples embedded in his forehead.
“The fat fucker cracked me upside the head with a motherfuckin’ steel chair. And just like the motherfuckin’ coward he is, he did it when my back was turned. So, like I said…the shit makes sense. He’ll get his comeuppance at Refueled, you can be damn sure of that.”
“And not only will this all go down this weekend, we get to do this for 6 more fuckin’ weeks, Bobby!” He shouts, pointing into the camera. The restaurant goes silent for a moment, but quickly returns to a normal dull roar.
“Best part is…if one of us ends this shit show before ICONIC, the other one is being shown the door. Let’s just hope your fat ass can get through the door without turning sideways. See you Sunday, dickhead. It’s gonna be a blast.”
Solex leans back into the booth and pulls another cigarette from the pack, just like he did before with his teeth. He fires up the cig and blows the smoke up into the air. He leans back forward toward the camera and suddenly his eyes grow wide and his mouth hangs wide open as his jaw drops.
“What the fuck, Shawn?” He says, a look of terror over taking his face.
“You and Logan were supposed to leave. I told you to get gone!”
“I don’t care what business you have left, it’s my time!”
“I can beat Bobby Dean! We won’t be out of a job, but you’ve gotta let me handle it on my own! This one is on me!”
“GOD DAMNIT SHAWN!”
“Wait…no. That can’t be right,” he says, his tone low and concerned.
“We haven’t seen him in years, Shawn. Logan can’t be with him. This is going to fuck everything up, don’t you get it?!”
“I’ll blow us the fuck up, Shawn! Don’t tempt me…and this time I’ll get it right! We cannot…CANNOT let Logan bring him here. That will be the end of us all!”
“I can’t believe this is happening, and you’re just gonna be cool with it. God damnit, Shawn! It’s all over now. You and Logan have fucked this up beyond repair, and I’m going to be the one that has to fix it. You fuckin’ idiots!”
The scene fades to black as the other patrons of the restaurant all stare at Solex shouting at an empty seat across from him.