Post by Mack O'Connor on Feb 17, 2015 20:14:32 GMT -5
EARLIER TODAY
The scene fades in to the lobby of the OCW headquarters. As previously seen, the place is an absolute mess.
A few moments pass as Mack O'Connor, wearing jeans, a shirt, and his leather jacket, walks through the wide open front door. Perhaps "wide open" isn't the right choice of words. The "non-existent" front door is more accurate.
Mack takes a few steps inside, being sure to carefully step over the passed out punks. He comes to the middle of the lobby, looking around.
Mack: Well, shit... No wonder the police have the area blocked off...
Mack lets out a laugh before spotting something on the ground: A pack of cigarettes in the hand of a passed out punk that happen to be his brand. He reaches down and grabs the pack, causing the punk to stir a bit.
Punk: --Mumbling-- Hey... fucker...
Mack: Relax kid, I'm only taking one.
Mack takes a single cigarette out and lights up. He drops the pack on the ground next to the Punk.
Mack: Don't suppose you got a beer laying around some where?
The Punk simply points, making the choice to pass out again rather than speaking up.
Mack follows the pointed arm and sees a pack of Budweiser sitting against the wall.
Mack: Budweiser... Fuckin rookies...
Mack takes a drag off of his cigarette and pulls out his cell phone. He scrolls through his contacts and selects one to dial. He puts the phone to his ear and waits a few moments as it rings.
Someone picks up on the other line.
Mack: Hey Dean, how's it going?
Although you can't hear exactly what is being said over the line, you can definitely hear rage.
Mack: Yep... I heard. I'm actually here right now. I wanted to stop by to...
More yelling on the other line.
Mack: What?
More irate yelling. Mack glances around the room, seemingly looking for something specific.
Mack: Uhhh... Nope. Don't see them. They must still be in your office.
Mack continues listening. He lets out a small laugh.
Mack: Hey man, I know it's "right up my alley," but I can't fix this shit. Not without some help.
More yelling.
Mack: Whatever. I don't work for free: You want my help, show me the green. Until then, it ain't my problem. I leave for Brazil Friday morning. Let me know.
More yelling. Mack just hangs up. He takes another drag off of his cigarette. He glances around as some of the Punks begin to wake up.
Punk 2, nearby, comes to a sitting position as he stares at Mack.
Punk 2: Who are you?
Mack: No one.
Punk 2: You here to break up the party?!
Mack turns towards the front door, casually flicking his cigarette at the kid. Punk 2 flails his arms, protecting himself sloppily as he rolls away.
Punk 2: Fuck man!
Mack: What a way to start the week...
Mack walks out the front door, sliding on some sunglasses.
The scene fades in to the lobby of the OCW headquarters. As previously seen, the place is an absolute mess.
A few moments pass as Mack O'Connor, wearing jeans, a shirt, and his leather jacket, walks through the wide open front door. Perhaps "wide open" isn't the right choice of words. The "non-existent" front door is more accurate.
Mack takes a few steps inside, being sure to carefully step over the passed out punks. He comes to the middle of the lobby, looking around.
Mack: Well, shit... No wonder the police have the area blocked off...
Mack lets out a laugh before spotting something on the ground: A pack of cigarettes in the hand of a passed out punk that happen to be his brand. He reaches down and grabs the pack, causing the punk to stir a bit.
Punk: --Mumbling-- Hey... fucker...
Mack: Relax kid, I'm only taking one.
Mack takes a single cigarette out and lights up. He drops the pack on the ground next to the Punk.
Mack: Don't suppose you got a beer laying around some where?
The Punk simply points, making the choice to pass out again rather than speaking up.
Mack follows the pointed arm and sees a pack of Budweiser sitting against the wall.
Mack: Budweiser... Fuckin rookies...
Mack takes a drag off of his cigarette and pulls out his cell phone. He scrolls through his contacts and selects one to dial. He puts the phone to his ear and waits a few moments as it rings.
Someone picks up on the other line.
Mack: Hey Dean, how's it going?
Although you can't hear exactly what is being said over the line, you can definitely hear rage.
Mack: Yep... I heard. I'm actually here right now. I wanted to stop by to...
More yelling on the other line.
Mack: What?
More irate yelling. Mack glances around the room, seemingly looking for something specific.
Mack: Uhhh... Nope. Don't see them. They must still be in your office.
Mack continues listening. He lets out a small laugh.
Mack: Hey man, I know it's "right up my alley," but I can't fix this shit. Not without some help.
More yelling.
Mack: Whatever. I don't work for free: You want my help, show me the green. Until then, it ain't my problem. I leave for Brazil Friday morning. Let me know.
More yelling. Mack just hangs up. He takes another drag off of his cigarette. He glances around as some of the Punks begin to wake up.
Punk 2, nearby, comes to a sitting position as he stares at Mack.
Punk 2: Who are you?
Mack: No one.
Punk 2: You here to break up the party?!
Mack turns towards the front door, casually flicking his cigarette at the kid. Punk 2 flails his arms, protecting himself sloppily as he rolls away.
Punk 2: Fuck man!
Mack: What a way to start the week...
Mack walks out the front door, sliding on some sunglasses.
