Season 2; Episode 3 - Stakes
EXT.UNKNOWN BATTLEFIELD – DAY
The sounds of war erupt in darkness.
GUNFIRE. TANK TREADS CRUSHING EARTH. EXPLOSIONS SHAKING THE AIR.
A
MECHANICAL
STOMP THUNDERS.
WeFADEINtoawar-ravagedbattlefield,cloaked insmokeandfire.
SOLDIERS SCREAMING ORDERS.
LASER FIRE STREAKS THROUGHTHE SKY.
Then
AMONSTROUS ROBOT STOMPS INTO FRAME.
It’satoweringbeast ofwar cold, unfeeling, its metal feet flatteningsoldiers as it advances.
CRUNCH.
AtinyGREENARMYMANiscrushedbeneathitsstep.
A second stomp obliterates more of them.
Ahigh-pitched,warbled scream pierces theair oneofthefallen soldierscryingout inagony.
The robot turns its head, scanning the battlefield.
ROBOT (distorted, mechanical) TARGETS LOCKED. INITIATING TERMINATION.
A METAL ARM RAISES.
ACANNON CHARGES, GLOWING RED.
Theremainingsoldiersbracefordestruction.
Then
A TRUMPET FANFARE.
Thecameradramaticallyswingsaround trackinganincomingsilhouettecuttingthroughthe smoke.
Astrong, commanding voice booms across the battlefield.
CLOSE-UP: GENERAL SAVAGE
Chiseled jawline. Battle-worn expression. Silverbuzz cut. Aperfectlysculptedplastichand grippingaMASSIVE,BRIGHTYELLOW ROCKET LAUNCHER.
Thevoiceis rich, authoritative, full of unwavering confidence.
GENERAL SAVAGE (booming) STAND DOWN, TROOPS!
(pausefor dramatic effect, the wind blowing heroicallyin his plastic hair)
GENERAL SAVAGE (CONT’D) THE BATTLE CORPS DOES NOT SURRENDER!
Theremainingtoysoldiersrallybehindhim.
The robot turns, scanning him.
ROBOT (whirring, calculating) UNKNOWNCOMBATANT. DESTROY INTERLOPER.
GeneralSavage cocks his oversized plastic rocket launcher.
GENERAL SAVAGE (scoffs)
I know you ain’ttalkin’about me,bucket-head. He plants his feet, aiming.
GENERAL SAVAGE (CONT’D) BATTLE CORPS ENGAGE!
ABRIGHTPLASTIC MISSILE FIRES.
IT ZOOMS ACROSS THE BATTLEFIELD.
THEROBOTTAKESDIRECT IMPACT SPARKSFLY.
IT SWAYS, CIRCUITS FRYING.
ANOTHER ROCKET FIRES HITTING DEAD CENTER.
The robot wobbles.
GENERAL SAVAGE (booming)
TIME TOSCRAP THIS JUNK!
BOOOOOOM!
Therobotcrumbles,crashingintothebattlefield.
The green army men CHEER in unison.
GeneralSavagestandstall,victorious,rocketlauncherstillaimedatthewreckage.
The war is won.
“PEW!PEW!WHOOSH!”
The booming war sounds fade.
Replacedbychildlikesoundeffects.
The camera slowly pulls back.
The battlefield is just a backyard.
EXT.MINDY’S BACKYARD – DAY
BILLYLATTIMERkneelsinthedirt,surroundedbyscattered green armymen.
The robot is just a plastic toy, lying on its side.
GeneralSavagestill stands tall, plasticlauncherraisedinvictory.
Billygrabs General Savage, making him “survey” the battlefield.
BILLY
(whispering, serious)
That’swhat happens when you mess with the Battle Corps.
Hecarefullystandsthe figure upright, as if makingsure he’s readyforthe next battle.
A voice cuts through the moment.
LAURA(O.S.)
Billy! Come on, sweetheart! It’s time to go!
Billypauses. He looks toward the house. Then back at General Savage.
Billyreachesoutandadjuststhefigure’sstance makingsurehe’sperfectlypositioned.
One last heroic moment.
Then, he grabs the toy and runs off.
Thecameralingersonthe“battlefield.”
INT.MONTGOMERY TRUSTBANK–PRIVATEOFFICE– DAY
A corporate office sterile, professional, nothing out of place. The nameplate on the desk reads GREGORY HENDERSON, SENIOR BANK OFFICER. The man himself, mid-50s, slick, wellgroomed, the type who’s mastered the art of politely dismissing people, sits behind a mahogany desk, fingers laced together, offering a practiced, neutral smile.
Across from him, HUGH WAINWRIGHT is anything but neutral. He’s red-faced, jaw clenched, barely keeping himself from exploding.
WAINWRIGHT
Let’scut the bullshit, Henderson. Iwant answers.
Hendersontilts his head slightly, a subtle displayof amusement.
HENDERSON
Iunderstand this is frustrating, but
WAINWRIGHT
Frustrating? Oh, I’msorry, Imust’vemissedthepartwherebeing fired from ajob I’veheld for over a decade was a minor inconvenience! I want to know exactly who authorized this.
Henderson’s smile doesn’t waver.
HENDERSON
Mr.Montgomerymade a decision regarding his financial representation. That decision is final.
WAINWRIGHT
Get him on the phone.
HENDERSON
I’mafraid
WAINWRIGHT
Now, damn it!
Henderson gives him a patient look, like a kindergarten teacher dealing with an unrulychild.
HENDERSON
Mr. Montgomeryis unavailable.
WAINWRIGHT
Make him available.
HENDERSON
I can’t do that.
WAINWRIGHT (laughs bitterly)
You can’t or you won’t?
Hendersondoesn’t answer.
WAINWRIGHT
You tell him he’s not rid of me. Hethinks hecan just replace me? Just likethat? Hebetter get ready for a call from my lawyer.
Henderson remains completelyunfazed.
HENDERSON
Of course. Would you like me to have our legal team prepare for that?
Wainwrightglares,chestheaving.Heknowswhenhe’sbeingdismissed.
WAINWRIGHT
You people are pathetic.
He pushes awayfrom the desk and storms out.
INT.MONTGOMERY TRUSTBANK–MAIN LOBBY–CONTINUOUS
Wainwrightmarchesthrough thebank,his expensiveshoes clickingloudlyagainst thetilefloor. His scowl deepens as he passes neatly dressed customers waiting in line, bank tellers offering polite smiles.
Someonebumps into him slightly. A flustered man in a cheap suit mutters an apology.
WAINWRIGHT (grumbling)
This whole goddamn place is a joke.
He pushes through the glass doors, stepping outside.
EXT.MONTGOMERYTRUSTBANK–CONTINUOUS
AsWainwright exits, fuming, the cameralingers forjust asecondlongeron theentrance.
A beat later, LAURA LATTIMER and BILLY step inside.
BillyclutcheshisGeneral Savageaction figuretightly, his small fingers grippingit likea lifeline.
Theydon’t seeWainwright. Hedoesn’t seethem.
But their paths cross for a fleeting moment.
EXT.PARKINGLOT– MOMENTS LATER
Wainwrightstompstowardhis blackBMW, yankingthedooropen andthrowinghimselfinside. He slams the door shut, jaw still tight with anger.
He shoves the keyinto the ignition.
ENGINE RUMBLES TO LIFE.
Beforehe can even put it in drive, his phone buzzes on the passenger seat.
INCOMING CALL: UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Wainwright eyes it suspiciously.
The phone keeps buzzing.
Annoyed, he taps the screen, answeringon speaker.
WAINWRIGHT
This is Wainwright. Who the hell is this?
A calm, familiar voice fills the car.
CHRIS (V.O.)
We need to talk.
Wainwright’sfacetenses.
WAINWRIGHT Who is this?
CHRIS (V.O.)
Someonewho’s gotbusinesswithMontgomery.Thought youmightbeinterested inhearing about that.
Thatgets Wainwright’s attention. Heleans forward slightly, eyes narrowing.
WAINWRIGHT
I’mlistening.
CHRIS (V.O.)
Good.I’lltext youalocation. Isuggest youbethere.
Wainwright’s brows furrow.
WAINWRIGHT
AndifI’mnot?
A low chuckle.
CHRIS (V.O.)
Ithink you will be.
CLICK.
Thecall cuts out.
Wainwright stares at his phone, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. His rage at Montgomeryisboilingover,butnow there’ssomethingelse.Somethingnew.Something dangerous.
The phone buzzes again.
Wainwrightexhales,grippingthewheel tighter. Hisfingersdrumagainst theleather. Finally, he puts the car in drive and peels out of the parking lot.
INT.MONTGOMERYESTATE–NIGHT
Thecameraglides through thehallways of apalatial mansion. Opulencein everycorner marble floors, towering paintings, chandeliers glowing with soft golden light.
This isn’t a house. It’s a monument to wealth.
Wemoveslowly,deliberately,windingupthe grand staircase. Theair feels heavy, silent, untouched.
Then Avoice.
Faint at first.
EVAN(O.S.)
I’m glad youunderstand…
INT.MONTGOMERYESTATE–MASTERBEDROOM–FLASHBACK
Thebedroomis morelike ahotel suite. Elegant, spacious, tastefullydesigned with asittingarea, a fireplace, expensive furniture that’s barely been lived in.
EVANMONTGOMERYsits acrossfrom his mother, BARBARA,both positioned in apairof matching armchairs.
Evan,crisp dress shirt slightlyunbuttoned at thecollar, a youngman with theweight ofaname too big for him.
Barbara, poised, refined, awomanwhohas never had toraisehervoiceto get what shewants.
She watches him with mild amusement, her wine glass resting between her fingers.
BARBARA
Iwouldn’tsayI understand. But I’mwillingtolet you make yourownmistakes.
Evan leans back, stretching an arm over the chair.
EVAN
It’s not amistake. It’s just… somethingdifferent.
Barbara tilts her head.
BARBARA
AMontgomeryworkingatagasstation? That’snotdifferent. That’sabsurd. Evan smirks.
EVAN
It’sS-Mart, not a gas station. It’s retail.
BARBARA
Retail. Much better.
Evan laughs, shaking his head.
EVAN
You sound like Dad.
Barbara scoffs, swirling her wine.
BARBARA
Impossible.Yourfatherwouldhavedisowned youbynow.
Evan grins, but there’s tension behind it.
EVAN
He’strying. But Itold him, I’m gonna do this. Iwant to see what it’s like to earn something. Even if it’s just chump change.
Barbara raises askeptical eyebrow.
BARBARA
Andwhat,exactly,does“earningsomething”looklikeforaMontgomery?
Evan leans forward slightly, more serious now.
EVAN
It looks like getting out from under him. Even just a little bit.
Barbarastudieshim. For amoment, shesees it thedetermination, thequiet rebellion, theneed to be his own person.
She exhales softly, shaking her head.
BARBARA
And your father wonders why you’re not takingover the company.
EVAN
Oh, I think he knows. He just doesn’t like it.
Barbarapauses,glancingatherglass,thinking.
Then
A passing mention. A name barelyworth noting.
BARBARA
Andthisnewmanagerofyours? Givingyouthis opportunity?
Evan shrugs.
EVAN
Lattimer,Ithink?Justcamein.Haven’treallytalkedtohim yet.
A throwaway comment. Something that means nothing.
And then
INT.MONTGOMERYESTATE–MASTERBEDROOM–PRESENTDAY
The room darkens. The warm lighting fades. The sitting area is empty.
Barbara is alone. The wine glass sits untouched on the table beside her.
She stares at nothing, lost in the memory that already feels like a ghost.
A deep breath. Eyes blink back tears that refuse to fall.
Thebedroom door swings open.
RICHARD MONTGOMERY enters, his presence immediatelyshattering the quiet.
He’sstill inhis dress shirtfrom earlier,sleeves rolledup,collarundone, but theman is wired. Tense. Consumed.
Barbara looks up at him, already exhausted.
BARBARA
Richard.
Richardbarelyacknowledgesher.Hemovesstraight to thedesk, flippingthrough paperwork, typing furiously on his phone.
BARBARA(CONT’D)
It’slate.
RICHARD
I’maware.
BARBARA Sit down.
RICHARD
Idon’t have time.
Barbara shakes her head, disbelieving.
BARBARA
You’re still moving assets.
Richarddoesn’tstoptyping.
RICHARD
I’m replacingWainwright.
BARBARA Wainwright was with us for
RICHARD
Twelve years. And he’s gone.
Barbara leans forward, her voice sharp.
BARBARA
Our son is gone, Richard.
Richardstills.Justforasecond.Thenhecontinuestyping.
Barbara stands, stepping toward him.
BARBARA(CONT’D)
You’reworriedaboutmoney. About your holdings. About everythingexcept thefact thatourson is dead.
Richardexhales sharply, closinghis eyes. He sets his phone down.
RICHARD
Youthinkthisisaboutmoney?
Barbara waits.
Richard turns to her, finallyfacing her fully.
RICHARD(CONT’D)
Chris Lattimer’s not dead. Hecalled me.
Barbara freezes.
For a moment, she doesn’t understand. Then, her face twists into disbelief.
BARBARA What?
Richardnods, grabbing his phone again.
RICHARD
Hewantssomething.He’scomingafterme,afterMontgomeryHoldings.
Barbara stares at him, horrified.
BARBARA We have to call the police.
RICHARD No.
Barbara blinks, thrown.
BARBARA No?
Richard steps toward her, eyes cold.
RICHARD
If Lattimer wants to deal with the Montgomerys…(beat) Then he’s going to deal with us.
Barbara recoils slightly, seeing something in her husband she’s never quite seen before.
INT. MONTGOMERY TRUST BANK – PRIVATE OFFICE – DAY
Thesame sterile, professional office. The nameplate still reads GREGORY HENDERSON, SENIOR BANKOFFICER. But theenergyhereis different. WhereWainwright stormed infull of bluster and outrage, this meeting is warm, measured.
LAURA LATTIMER sits across from Henderson, nervous but composed. Next to her, BILLY LATTIMER sits onthechair besideher,legs dangling, action figureclutched tight in his hands.
Henderson,practiced inthe artofreadingpeople, watches them with areassuringsmile. Heleans forward slightly, hands folded.
HENDERSON
Mrs. Lattimer, there’s no need to send Billyto the lobby. He’s perfectlyfine here.
Billylooksup,half-listening,butstillmakingGeneralSavageposedramatically.
Laura nods appreciatively.
LAURA
Thank you.
Hendersonsoftens his tone.
HENDERSON
Now,let’stalkabout what wecandofor you.
Laura takes a breath, steeling herself.
LAURA
I’m…tryingto figureout what happened to myaccounts. Our accounts. Chris and Ihad joint accounts our savings, everything we had tied up with Montgomery Trust. And now?
Sheshakes her head, frustrated.
LAURA(CONT’D)
It’s all gone. Closed.Justlikethat.
Henderson nods, taking notes.
HENDERSON
Let me be clear when you say"closed," you mean…?
LAURA
Imean gone. Notjustemptied closed.Abruptly. And Idon’tknowwhy.
Henderson frowns, choosing his next words carefully.
HENDERSON
That’s…unusual.Theonlypeoplewhocouldauthorizethatwouldbe Laura leans forward.
LAURA
Me.Ormyhusband.
A beat.
Henderson nods slowly, his face unreadable.
HENDERSON
Right.
Hetapshis pen against the desk, consideringhowtoproceed. Henderson wants to ask more. But Billy is right there. He chooses his words very carefully.
HENDERSON
Idon’twanttospeculate, Mrs. Lattimer. But mayIask was this expected? Anyfinancial restructuring you might not have been fully aware of?
Laura lets out a small, bitter laugh.
LAURA
If you’reaskingwhether myhusband warned mehewas about to wipeout ourentirelifesavings and vanish no. No, he did not.
Hendersonnods again, absorbingthat.
Billy,still playingwith General Savage, glances upat themention ofhis dad but quicklyreturns to his game.
HENDERSON
I’lllookintoitpersonally.Nomatterwhat, I’ll get yousomeanswers.
Laura exhales, a bit of the weight lifting.
LAURA
Thank you.
Henderson leans back slightly, shifting gears.
HENDERSON
Now, let’s talk about your home.
Lauranods,alreadybracingherself.
LAURA
I’m assuming I’m losing it.
Hendersonoffersasympatheticsmile.
HENDERSON
Notnecessarily. Wehave options. Giventhecircumstances, wecan exploreatemporary hardship deferment or a payment restructuring plan that gives you time to stabilize.
Lauralets out a small, humorless chuckle.
LAURA
Stabilize.That’s a word.
HENDERSON
It’s a start. And if we can work somethingout, it means you and Billywon’t have to stay elsewhere long-term.
Lauralooks at Billy, still happilyabsorbed with General Savage.
LAURA (back to Henderson)
You mean moving back…home.
HENDERSON
That’sthe idea.
Lauraleans back, staring at theceilingforamoment. Herhome. Theplace Chris walked out on. The place he abandoned. A house filled with ghosts.
But
It’s better than nothing.
She looks back at Henderson, nods.
LAURA
Alright. Let’s do it.
Hendersonsmileswarmly.
HENDERSON
Then we’ll figure this out together.
Laurais readyto fight forwhat’s left.
Billy,oblivioustotheweight oftheconversation, makes General Savagepoint dramaticallyat Henderson.
BILLY (whispers)
Battle Corps never surrenders.
Laurasmilesdespiteeverything.
LAURA
That’s right, buddy. We don’t.
EXT.HIGHWAYREST STOP–15MILES OUTSIDE SPRINGVILLE– DAY
Aquietrest stop offthehighway, thekind ofplace wherepeople stretch their legs, walk their dogs, and grab overpriced snacks.
The tranquil, roadside serenity is immediately ruined by the presence of three loud, heavily tattooed bikers. The DREADNOKS BUZZER, TORCH, AND RIPPER have pulled over. Theirbikesareparked crookedlyacross twospaces, completelyinconsiderate, because ofcourse.
Buzzerstands byhis bike, grinningas hestares at asmall trackingdevicein his hand.
The screen blinks steadily. A single dot. Moving. Heading straight into Springville.
BUZZER
(low, satisfied)
There he is. Our little errand boy.
Torch, casuallychewing on an unlit matchstick, leans against his bike.
TORCH
What’d Isay? We don’t gotta chase ‘im. Wejust gotta wait forthe dumb bastard to lead us straight to ‘imself.
Buzzertilts the tracker slightly, amused.
BUZZER
Theboss ain’t stupid. You think hewas gonna just give Lattimer acar and send him on his merry way? Nah.
He taps the device.
BUZZER (CONT’D)
Webeenwatchingsinceheleft theswamp.
Torch snorts.
TORCH
Which one?
Buzzergrins.
BUZZER (ominously)Allofthem.
Torch glances around.
TORCH
Wherethe hell’s Ripper?
Buzzer shrugs, still watching the tracker.
BUZZER
Toilet.
Torch groans, rubbinghis face.
TORCH
If I gotta wait for that idiot to take a shit one more
Justthen apairofrest stop visitors SPRINT past them, lookingscared out oftheirdamn minds. Torch raises an eyebrow.
Amoment later,RIPPER emerges from thebathroom. Andhe’sdraggingsomepoorold manby the collar of his windbreaker.
Theoldguy,mid-60s,respectable-looking, completelybewildered, isclutchingat Ripper’s grip but completely helpless.
Ripper grins like a lunatic.
RIPPER
ThisoldbastardwasinthereFOREVER!
Torch stares, dumbfounded.
TORCH
Mate, what the hell?!
RIPPER (shrugging)
Look, Ihad business toattend to, yeah? Man’sgottahavehis space. But this geezer? He’sin there, takin’ his sweet time, prob’ly doin’ Sudoku or somethin’.
Buzzerfinallylooksupfromthetracker,watchingthesceneunfold.
The old man finally chokes out a plea.
OLD MAN
I Iwas just
RIPPER (mocking)
"I Iwas just"what? TAKIN’ YOUR SWEET-ASS TIME?
He shakes the poor guy slightly.
Torch laughs, shaking his head.
TORCH
What’s he supposed to do, mate? Speedrun the process?
Ripper grins, finally shoving the old man aside.
RIPPER
Next time, wash your bloodyhands!
Theoldmanstumbles,wheezing, and immediatelyhurries towardtheparkinglot, disappearing into the crowd. Buzzer, barely amused by the antics, goes back to the tracker.
BUZZER
Hopeyou gotallthatoutta yoursystem.Wegotplacestobe.
Torch stretches his arms, cracking his neck.
TORCH
Yeah, yeah.Butlet’s getsomethin’straight.
He turns to Buzzer.
TORCH (CONT’D)
Yougot yourlil’tracking deviceand yourlil’plans,but don’tforget whywe’redoin’ this. (beat) We get to blow shit up, yeah?
Buzzer grins, snapping the device shut.
BUZZER
Mate, that’s the only reason we’re doin’ this.
Heswings alegover his bike, Torch and Ripper followingsuit. Theengines roar to life. Torch grins as he revs his throttle.
TORCH
Springville,here we come.
Theypeel out, leaving the rest stop in a cloud of exhaust and chaos.