Run Rabbit Run - Act 3

Last we left off, two young ruffians were being escorted out of the police precinct. We weren't that bad.
Just typical nine-year-olds. Hey, I wouldn't say typical.
And you might want to plug your ears for this. Monty went through all his father's races except for one, and that was the one that he died.
And he was still betting against him. That's when I took on his debt.
Fast forward a little bit

So we survived a rolling van, stole some sweet old lady's car. Borrowed.
Yep, that's right. She lent it to us.
And by a stroke of good fortune, we all made it back to Victoria's to find out the UPS woman is actually an assassin related to the Cherry Brothers. But being a fan of my style, she took it upon herself to grant some leniency and gave me 24 hours to give the urn to her father, Jameson.
Meanwhile, Detectives Newman and Mulray discover my calling card in Killian's kitchen. I told you it was stupid to leave those rabbits everywhere you go.
The good ones always have a thing. That's my thing.
Killian, being the thoughtful guy that he is, decided to return Chloe's car. With Chloe, God bless her soul, and whatever the fuck his name was on the back seat, both bodies covered with a tarp.
Oh yeah, and that's when you and your new best bud, uh, Floyd, bonded over the high-tech sex robot frontier. Yeah, luckily.
So Killian kidnapped Samantha, Monty's fiancee, touchy subject. Cause she's nine months pregnant.
Hey, but it went well. Well enough, anyway.
It went horrible. Hey, keep your chin up.
Thanks to Tyler and Francois' quick thinking, it worked out, so we managed to escape with her in the trunk.

But we found her in the woods, Roland,

and she almost killed both of us.

Almost.

So this is where we reunite with the source of our troubles.

The guy who got me into this trap?

My old pal, Wyatt.

His yacht is always a good place to lay low.

At this point, the top priority was to get the urn back

from Victoria's place. Monty discovered that Killian had the damn thing bugged the whole time.
Eh, could have been worse. We're lucky Killian's leash got tangled in those curtains.
The gods were looking out for us. Huh, Monty? Trust the process.
Hmm. Interior exterior, yacht bedroom number two continuous.
Through the yacht window, a radiant full moon illuminates the sky. Monty lays down on the bed, exhausted.
Samantha gently rubs his chest. I had a horrible dream.
I've been taken by these strange men that were looking for Roland in an urn, and they locked me in a trunk. I remember running.
A man speaking French was chasing me through the woods. And it was dark.
It was very dark. At one point, I had a gun and I nearly shot Roland.
Samantha opens her eyes. And you.
She notices the strange surroundings. Where are we? Listen to me.
Maybe you should lay down. I am laying down.
It wasn't a dream. Samantha embraces Monty hard.
I almost killed you. But you didn't.
I'm fine. We're fine.
That bullet wasn't even close. What's going on? I thought you were done with all of this.
I am. What do you call this? Closure? Roland eavesdropping through the crack of the door.
What job did he talk you into this time? It's not a job, baby. It's a situation, and it's all going to be over soon.
No more running. No more running? How are you going to square that circle? Roland's never going to stop.
He can't, or all the bad luck will eventually find him. Roland walks away and exits the yacht.
Exterior, Marina gas station, night. Roland processes Samantha's words as he walks toward the entrance.
He glances at a figure sitting on a bench before entering. He pops back out, realizing it's Dorian.
Can I get you something? Maybe some cookies? I doubt they're gonna be fresh. Dorian stares at him sternly.
It would be dumb of me to run right now, wouldn't it? Yes, it would. Sensing she's not in a playful mood, Roland walks over to sit next to her.
It's not here. That's what you said last time.
And I meant it. Well, actually, I was lying before.
But you're telling the truth now? Sort of. What's the entire truth anyway? Is there such a thing? Of course there is.
That's why there's fiction. And that's all you're giving me right now.
Not sure it's advisable to tickle the nuclear codes if you catch my drift. And I have to take something back with me.
Like a handwritten note? More like a hand. My hand? Roland looks at his hand.
Wait, the whole hand? Lots of people manage with just one hand. You don't drive anyway.

Almost anything can be done with the dominant one.

It won't be so bad.

Look on the bright side.

You got the first 30 years with both.

That's pretty lucky.

Besides, what would Jameson think of me if I returned with just a finger?

You were going to take just a finger.

Oh, initially.

An awkward silence.

Eh, you're fucking with me. Of course I am.
That would be. Eh, you fucking with me.

Of course I am.

That would be heinous if I took your hand.

She stands up to leave.

Jesus, I really had you going, didn't I?

I'm a ruthless killer, but I'm not a monster.

What are you even doing here?

I have until tomorrow.

I got antsy. Too many close calls for my taste.

Dorian walks away.

What are you going to tell your dad?

She looks back at him.

Thank you. What are you even doing here? I have until tomorrow.
I got antsy. Too many close calls for my taste.
Dorian walks away. What are you going to tell your dad? She looks back at him.
What I told him last time. I couldn't catch him.
Dorian slips into the night like a shadow, leaving Roland mystified. Fucking ninjas.
Interior. Marina gas station continuous.
Roland heads straight for the fridge. He checks the dates on the cartons of milk, picks the very last one in the back.
As he turns the corner in mid-gulp, he notices Amelia, the woman from the police station, at the counter. Love struck, Roland immediately retreats behind a rack of potato chips.
He peeks up to stare at her longingly. She senses his stare and glances back just as Roland ducks down.
After a moment of hiding, he sees his reflection in the fridge door and starts rehearsing. Hey, Amelia.
It's good to see you at the police station. He shakes his head.
No, that's stupid. He starts over.
Hey, it's you. I was hoping that everybody...
He sees a reflection behind him in the fridge door. He quickly tries to escape the embarrassment.
What was it? What was it? Snapple or Dr. Pepper? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
They can get it themselves. He turns to face Amelia and feigning surprise...
Amelia! Charmed, she spares him the humiliation. It's been a long time.
Sparks are flying. Interior, Yacht Bedroom Number One, continuous.
Roland and Amelia with hands passionately racing on each other's bodies. I want you to know I don't do this sort of thing often.
But do I look easy? She pins him against the wall, making the urn tip over. Is that a fucking urn? I believe so.
She begins to undress, starting with her shoes. Yeah, are there ashes in it? Roland takes off his shoes.
Beats me. But it wouldn't be much of an urn without him.
It'd be like a vase. He stops mid-pant leg.
Wait, vase or vase? Amelia slides off her pants. You really never looked? She picks up the urn as Roland struggles with his pants at his ankles.
Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Isn't that bad luck? Won't that release some kind of spirit or something? Like, the last thing I need right now is some ancient curse.
It's not a genie in a bottle. The body was cremated.
You're fine. She removes the lid and they both look inside, as though peering down a well.
He or she? He. I think.
You think you don't even know who this is? He closes the urn and places it back on the dresser. I don't ask questions when I'm afraid of the answer.
They start kissing each other again. So is it a practice of yours to babysit urns? No, actually, this is a first.
Don't you think that's a bit odd oh what is odd these days it's a little creepy yet here you are amelia pulls roland towards her we stay on the urn as it begins to slowly vibrate across the dresser later dawn sound of shower running roland wakes up he slides his arm across the bed searching for amelia he gets up and yawns his way to the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He takes a deep breath.
Look, I don't want to be that guy spilling out his guts the morning after because he had some great awakening. But last night was special for me.
It felt real for the first time in a long time, longer than I can remember. In fact, I'm not even sure I knew what this feeling was before last night.

I just want to be honest with you. Only the truth.

And the truth doesn't always present itself accurately.

What is wrong sometimes feels right. What is wrong sometimes feels right.

What is right never feels wrong.

Honesty wasn't exactly a family heirloom handed down when I was a kid.

I remember my dad saying to my mom,

Baby, you're my cotton candy.

And then he turned to me and said, Cotton candy never fills you up, boy. It's just air, just fluff.
Oh, in the moment, it's sweet, all right, but it vanishes as soon as you taste it. And the flavor never lasts.
It gets in the way and distracts your hunger. You need to find something that fulfills you.
Leaves you satisfied. And that ain't easy.
And then he'd leave for months. Only to come back for a night and say the same damn thing before leaving all over again.
A beat. You're not cotton candy.
I know that in my bones. What I'm trying to say is...
Roland has difficulty saying the words. I love you.
I've always loved you. Silence.
Roland waits for a response. He cringes, thinking he said too much.
After a moment, he gently slides the curtain to reveal an empty shower. What the? Confused, he wanders out and begins looking for Amelia throughout the yacht.
He re-enters the bedroom, puzzled. His eyes grow wide.

The urn is gone.

Interior, yacht living room, continuous.

Roland frantically shuffles through the cabinets

and tosses the sofa.

The sofa.

Roland.

Roland frantically shuffles through cabinets

and tosses the sofa cushions.

Monty approaches.

What the hell are you looking for?

Roland plays it down.

Eh, I'm not looking for anything.

It's here.

Oh, forget it.

I don't even want to know.

At least it's not the urn.

Roland continues his search as Monty leaves.

After a few moments, Monty returns.

It's not the urn, is it?

Roland stops.

Roland, look at me.

Roland slowly turns around to face Monty.

Tell me it's not the urn.

Roland deflates, heartbroken.

It's not the urn.

Monty resists getting angry. I'm going to make us a drink.
It's not the urn. It's not the urn.

I'm gonna make us a drink.

Exterior, yacht, deck.

Moments later.

Wrapped in a bed sheet,

Roland stares at the storm in the horizon.

He smells the bed sheet where Amelia slept.

Drinks in hand,

Monty walks up and sits next to him.

We gave it a shot, didn't we? Hell, no one wins them all. Monty shoots back the liquor.
I believe you let that old lady drive. She was pretty good.
Meh. A beat.
What are you going to do now? I'm going to wake up Samantha, take what little savings I got, head straight to Mexico, and take things slow for a long while. A long while.
You? Roland squeezes the bedsheet tight. I think I'm cursed.
If you could put a cherry on top of my impending doom, she would be it. They say the first cut is the deepest.
That shit's fucking true. I never had a chance.
She ripped right through me. It was like...
Lightning. Roland and Monty spin around, surprised to see Amelia standing on the deck, holding the urn.
Lightning crashes. Vague 2.
Exterior. Cherry's barn.
Lightning in the distance as a storm rolls in. Jameson, wielding an axe, cuts down a large tree with fury.
A tombstone is next to the tree. It reads, Fiona Cherry.
The twins' father was dying from cancer. Jameson received the news and was crushed by the coming loss.
For over a year, he devoted himself to carving a coffin. The tree falls.
It would be his masterpiece. Interior at Cherry's barn.
Jameson cuts the first details into the massive trunk that will become his father's coffin.

He worked his soul into those splinters, racing against time.

When he finished, he showed only one person.

Killian.

Exterior, desert, dusk.

William Cherry lays in the wooden coffin.

The lid slowly slides over him. But on the

day of their father's death, Killian

signed for the release of the body.

Killian steps back. He lights a cigar.

He tosses the match and the

coffin ignites in flames.

Killian stole the body and the coffin from Jameson

and reduced them both to ashes.

The fire whips up in frenzy.

Out of spite. Interior

Cherry House bathroom.

Killian, as an adult, huddled against the bathtub where his mother died,

holds his deceased mother's hand, crying like a child.

All for the shame Jameson branded him with after their mother's death.

Exterior, Cherry House front porch.

Jameson stands motionless.

Like a trophy or some twisted talisman, Killian taunts his brother with their father's remains locked away in the urn. An intricate corner piece of the burnt coffin sits in front of Jameson.
Whoa, whoa. Let's rewind here for a second.
Which part? Exterior, drive-in diner, morning. We follow a waitress in roller skates carrying a tray of food until she arrives at Killian's car window.
She hands the order to Roland, Monty, and Amelia. All of it.
You're telling me you're sent by Jameson to reclaim the urn? You're a quick one, Monty. He didn't want things to get any messier and was concerned Dorian's temperament might become an issue.
He thought I could just slip in and get it. Hmm, slipped into my sheets instead.
I most certainly did. So, let me get this straight.
You seduce Roland. Amelia grabs a hot fry from the bag.
Technically, I did that 30 years ago. Steal the urn, realize on the drive back you're madly in love with him.
Still! Still madly in love with him, and decide to return and confess everything? More or less. Then take us to Jameson.
Not a chance. I just betrayed him.
But you guys should probably strongly consider giving it back to him. Killian's crazed and he'll chase you to the ends of the earth if he wants something from you.
Not to worry. We pinned a tail on that donkey.
Yeah, we did. Roland and Monty high five.
Amelia has her doubts red sky at morning sailors take warning i knew you look familiar but why would a thief a good one be working at the police station that doesn't make any sense really oh i expected more from you monty if you're planning on stealing honey the best place to be is the hive. Hard to argue with that.
Monty starts the car and backs up, revealing Newman and Mulray munching down on their breakfast, parked a couple spots away. We're never going to find Roland with the standard process.
It's tired and old. If we really want to catch him, we're going to have to start thinking like him, do as he would do.
No more getting tangled in the branches. We have to go for the trunk of the tree.

You know, I'm not going to drink the Kool-Aid, if that's what you mean.

You start putting on the wolf's fur, you'll quickly forget you're a sheep.

We don't have to be sheep, Mulray. That's my point.
Why not be a fox and out-spar them all?

We don't have to drink their Kool-Aid. That's not what I'm saying.
But we should definitely open our eyes. Mulray nods as he looks around with a fresh set of eyes.
Interior, ice rink arena, morning. Roland walks in carrying Chloe's purse, followed by Monty and Amelia as a youth hockey practice is underway.
Are you going to tell me what we're doing here? We don't exactly have leisure time, Roland. of the essence does that mean anything to you people start acknowledging Roland as

they pass by back on the ice good to see you rolling my man since when do you

play hockey since always here's a little tribute for that big brain of yours the

slaves that escaped Canada were pioneers in inventing the sports that again the

slaves who escaped to Canada. Oh, yeah.
Since always, here's a little tribute for that big brain of yours. The slaves that escaped to Canada were pioneers in inventing the sport.
Pioneers, huh? I never saw you play hockey. I never saw you jerk off.
Touche. Monty catches Amelia's look.
He shrugs. Something's hard to give up.
Spare me the details. Monty is about to speak.
Amelia holds up her hand. I believe you, it was hard.
Yeah, it was. Details! They arrive to Roland's locker.
Roland turns the dial. It'll be safe here.
You have a locker? I have skates too, Monty. Roland opens the locker and places the purse inside as Monty scans the crowd on the lookout.
Look, the only leverage we have are these ashes. We can't fuck this up.
Roland closes the locker when Monty notices Bonham staring at him on the far side of the ice rink. It's coming with us.
God damn it, you're not listening. Roland turns to see what

Monty and Amelia are staring at. Bonham and Killian scrambling towards them.
Shit. Bonham opens the rink door to cut across the ice, interrupting the game.
Roland struggles to open the locker. A little faster, Roland.
It's not working. No time for humor.
You just opened it. I'm aware of that, Monty, but it's not working now.
Roland realizes he's on the wrong dial. Monty notices Roland move one locker over.

Don't get mad.

I'm not mad, I'm aware of that, Monty, but it's not working now. Roland realizes he's on the wrong dial.
Monty notices Roland move one locker over. Don't get mad.
I'm not mad. I'm worried.
Roland spins the correct dial. It could happen to anyone.
No one. It could happen to no one.
Roland grabs Chloe's purse. You guys are professionals, right? We were.
They acknowledge the two different tones. Things change fast, don't they? They take off running.

Bonham continues his struggle on the ice.

Roland slams a $50 bill against the glass.

50 bucks for the first one that nails him.

The kids immediately start sending slap shots

in Bonham's direction.

A puck ricochets hard across Bonham's head,

putting him down.

Dunlop, you suck cock!

Bonham gets up like Frankenstein.

All the players scatter, except for the kid who landed the shot.

Seized with fear, he watches Bonham approach.

Bonham grabs him, lifts him up, and prepares to slam him down on the ice.

What are you doing?

Bonham hesitates and looks at Killian.

That's just a child. Set him down.
Bonham obeys the order and lowers the kid who skates off, emotionally shaken. The urn! It's all that matters.
Bonham continues on his way. Exterior, ice rink, continuous.
Roland, Monty, and Amelia quickly climb into Killian's car before driving off. Exterior, interior, phone booth, continuous.
Killian's car is hidden behind a large billboard on the side of the road. Roland, Monty, and Amelia are crammed inside the phone booth.
Give me a quarter. Monty struggles to fish for a quarter from his pocket.
I don't have a quarter. Amelia searches her pocket.
This is not how I imagined it. You guys are so unprepared.
The Rubas are absolute bullshit. That's why they're rumors, sweetheart.
Hey, we're a little rusty, okay? She finds a quarter and hands it to Roland. Roland is about to slide the quarter into the payphone.
What are you going to tell him? Annoyed, Roland hesitates. Great.
I just went blank. Had it all worked out, too.
What is there to think about? Tell him you want to bring him the urn, and your troubles are over. You haven't spent a lot of time with Roland, have you? Roland shoves Monty out of the phone booth.
Monty presses

his face against the glass. The trouble

picks up right where it left off.

No slack in the line.

Seamless. Roland slides

the quarter into the slot and dies.

Any advice?

Be confident, but humble.

Be direct, but subtle.

Jameson is a human lie detector

so it's best to be honest. Not too honest..
He'll sense weakness, so don't let your voice crack. And don't say please.
Whatever you do, don't say that. Roland nods.
Jameson Cherry, please. Amelia gives him two sarcastic thumbs up for reassurance.
Outside, Monty pulls out an image of his baby's ultrasound. Don't worry, it's going to be a clean slate for you.
Roland and Amelia exit the phone booth. 7 p.m.
tonight, our troubles are over. And we might even come out of this with a few dollars under our pillow.
They look at Killian's car. Got any ideas for a new ride? They all stare and ponder.
Reluctant, Roland shakes his head as he removes the tow truck driver's business card out of his pocket. I'm gonna need another quarter.
Interior, yacht kitchen, day. A quarter lands into a winning pot in the center of a table.
Tyler, Francois, and Weilad are in the midst of a serious poker game. The silence is deafening.
The stakes seem high. Wyatt pours whiskey for everyone.
Look, you don't need an ace in your deck to win. Just convince everyone it's there.
Life, like cards, is a winded bluff. A gauntlet of bullshitters.
Keep them guessing long enough. They start questioning themselves and eventually they'll fold.
The wasted wisdom of an old man. How's this for convincing? Tyler lays his cards down, revealing two aces.
But it was a good speech, Wyatt. I was moved.
Fuck yourself. Wyatt tosses his cards.
He pours another glass of whiskey. Wyatt forces it in Francois'

face, but he knocks it away with disgust. Get that nasty shit out of my face.
You nitwit. That's

going to put hair on your balls, forging you into a man. God, they don't make them like they used to.

Wyatt shoots back the whiskey. Sounds of footsteps above, on the deck of the yacht.

Francois shoots back the shot of liquid courage. Tyler creeps toward the stairs as Wyatt bumps the

Thank you. back the whiskey sounds of footsteps above on the deck of the yacht francois shoots back the shot of liquid courage tyler creeps toward the stairs is why it bumps the table causing a bottle to wobble francois catches it before it hits the ground moment of relief the parrot lands near on a window brah fuck you i'm batman the three men halt and look at the bird waiting to see his move.
We're in the Batcave down here. Tyler makes his way up the stairs.
Wyatt creeps behind him with a harpoon gun. On three.
Wyatt nods. Tyler counts to three, opens the door, and sees no one.
What do you see? Now relaxed, Tyler shrugs. Tyler! No! Tyler loses his footing and tumbles down the stairs on Wyatt.
Above the stairs, Victoria and a group of girls peek down at the two men lying on top of each other. Hi! Exterior, phone booth, day.
Roland, Monty, and Amelia wait by Killian's car under the scorching sun. Beep, beep, beep.
Roland perks up. Floyd pulls up with a white Volkswagen rabbit hooked up behind his tow truck, happy to see Roland.
Wow, wow, wow. Two peas in a pod.
Roland cringes. You two are close, huh? Bear with me.
I'll explain later. I'm good.
Floyd lowers the car and catches Roland reluctantly peeking in the back seat, afraid of what he might find. Don't worry, I don't travel with him.
Not on weekdays. Roland is relieved.
Who? As Floyd approaches, you don't want to know. Roland and I just happen to play with the same toys.
Nervous, Roland feels Amelia's cold stare. Not true.
We don't. Interesting.
What kind of toys? The fun kind. By the way, I'm looking to hang it up on this toe-in racket.
If you were serious about needing some help in the future, I'm your guy. I was meant for the action.
Life on the edge. Fortune favors the bold.
That sort of thing. You sure? It's not too late to pull out.
The only thing that pulls out in my house is a sofa bed. Charming.
Floyd offers Roland the keys. No, no, no, no, not me.
He's driving. Monty reaches for the keys.
Floyd holds them back. My car, my rules! On Roland, Monty, and Amelia, wary of what the rules might be.
Cut to Monty in the driver's seat, Roland and Amelia as passengers. Floyd squats down by the driver's window.
Now watch her in third. She gets a little ornery.
I'm still working on it, but don't worry. She won't bite and keep that clutch tight.
Trust me. You don't want her to get out from under you.
Monty does his best to keep calm, staring ahead with his eyes closed. Hey, snap out of it.
Are you paying attention? This is no joke. Driving is no joke.
So focus here. Roland hides his amusement, catching Monty's attention.
Don't look at me. You should be paying attention.
Monty turns back to Floyd. When she starts to loosen up, shove her back in second.
She's a cranky old bitch. But she'll burn like a rocket once she warms up to you.
Is that in? That about does it. She cuts on a dime.
So be wary on corners. She likes them sharp.
Yeah, I think I can take it from here. Glad I can help.
And remember... Driving is no joke.
You're a quick study, Daniel-san. Don't go driver off a cliff.
Roland and Monty laugh hysterically. Keys turning in the ignition.
Car engine rumbles. Tires burning.
Volkswagen Rabbit logo peels away. Exterior.
Cliff. Day.
A white car drives off a high cliff and crashes down below. A crowd cheers and claps for the car launch event.
Newman and Mulray stand next to the Bum, hostage at the police station earlier. Bum throws his ticket down.
God damn it! Another 30 down the drain! The three walk through the crowd. My partner tells me you've known Roland for some time.
I mean, we didn't swap diapers in Sunday school or anything like that, but yeah, I know Roland as well as anyone could. Son of a bitch still owes me money.
Tell her what you told me about a job he was considering. He said he was given a proposition he couldn't refuse.
Too tempting to pass up? Exactly. Or too good to be true? Probably right again.
Did he mention any names? Only thing he ever said was, baby squirrel. Could be code for something.
Newman is amazed by Mulray's stupidity. You think? I was considering looking him up in the phone book.
Mulray senses her sarcasm. He did mention he was desperate to get his partner involved.
I had heard a lot of rumors about him, but never actually met the man. Something with an M.
Monty? Damn, right again. Any ideas where we might find Roland? It's a sign.
That's what we were thinking. The odds of our paths crossing, it's...
No, no, that's the name of his friend's boat. It's a sign.
If I had to guess, that's where he'll be. A loud buzzer goes off.
I like your odds. Quick, heads or tails? Tails.
Interior, yacht kitchen, late afternoon. Drunk, Francois pushes a small matchbox car as it rolls off the table, a symbolic metaphor for his life.
Francois bounces a quarter into a glass. All the guests around erupt in a cheer.
A hand with a leather leash wrapped around it reaches over. Hold on one second, let's do the cheer.
He bounces it into the thing and it's like, score, what is it? what is it? Touchdown. Score, football.
Score, football.

Football.

Points.

Francois bounces a quarter into a glass.

All the guests around erupt in a cheer.

A hand with a leather leash wrapped around reaches over,

steals the winning glass.

Killian shoots the whiskey back.

Killian pours two more glasses and slides one towards Francois. They toast.
You look like shit. What's your story? Similar to yours, I'd say.

What's a man without a story? Looks to me his is even worse. This has to be explained.
Can he even

see?

I'm his guide, and it all comes down to trust. Where's Roland? Monty said he'd be here.
A little trip. Interesting.
He takes time off while business is booming? Let's put it mildly. What it is, is a clusterfuck.
Oh, do tell. Francois leans in closer.

A fucking lunatic is trying to steal his own father's urn. You don't say.
A real fruit loop. A total nut job.
Probably wasn't loved by his mom, that sort of thing. So pathetic.
Killian's grip tightens around the leather leash. An urn, huh?

Yep.

That's why I'm here.

To keep an eye on it until he returns.

It's here.

Yes, by yes.

On the boat, right now.

Francois points up to the ceiling.

Right above us.

Francois takes a swig, then looks over, noticing Killian and the falcon brute are gone.

He looks around for him that was rude interior yacht hallway continuous tyler knocks on a door he hears laughing and giggling on the other side frustrated he knocks louder why it opens the door wearing a hockey helmet with a sticker that reads, The Cherry Pickers, on its side.

Naked folks celebrate in the background.

You rang?

Look, we have a serious problem.

Wyatt comes out of the room, closes the door behind.

Define serious.

Wyatt, look around.

This place is a fucking circus.

It's good to see some life up in here.

I'm failing to see the problem. We have to get these people out of here, like now.
We're only complicating the situation. We're here to help.
You're right. Even the naked ones? Everyone.
Okay, I'll meet you downstairs in five minutes. Five minutes? That's what I said.
I'm a man of my word. See you in 10 minutes.
Wyatt closes the door in Dyler's face. Interior, yacht bedroom number one continuous.
Killian searches the room with Falcon Brute standing by his side. He tosses clothes out of the closet wildly.
He removes and empties all the drawers one and one. He opens the last drawer, and there waits urn.
Interior, yacht hallway, continuous. Wyatt proudly exits his room with his hockey helmet on.
Sounds of Killian's sinister laughter. Wyatt freezes.
Interior, yacht bedroom number one, continuous. Killian laughs hysterically as he gives the urn a gentle kiss.
Wyatt jumps on Killian's back and grabs him in a chokehold. Killian drops the urn.
Falcon Brute stands motionless. Killian lunges back, smashing Wyatt into the wall.
Killian struggles to reach the Falcon Brute's lead, with Wyatt still around his neck. It belongs to me! Killian pulls out a knife and swings over his shoulder, deflecting off Wyatt's helmet.
Twice, the third attempt gets stuck in the face grill, a hair away from Wyatt's eye. Unable to retrieve his knife, Killian lunges forward, reaching the leather leash.
Interior, yacht living room, continuous. Slow-mo, Wyatt runs through the party terrified, urn in hand.
Maskless, the falcon brute emerges in pursuit. Tyler's surprised to see Wyatt coming.
He's early. Wyatt shoves the urn in Tyler's arms as he runs by.
Confused, Tyler looks up and sees the falcon brute charging like a bulldozer from the crowd. Tyler takes off after Wyatt.
Interior, yacht living room continuous. People run around like chickens trying to escape.
Victoria and Francois help Samantha make her way out as she screams in labor pain. Wyatt and Tyler run past them.
That's not good. Exterior, yacht front deck continuous.
Falcon Brute gains on Wyatt and Tyler, swinging his massive brass knuckles, knocking people over like bowling pins. Split up! Wyatt turns right and Tyler makes a hard left.
Tyler crawls under a table with the urn and watches the Falcon Brute run by, relieved. Suddenly, Francois slides under the table next to Tyler.
What the fuck is going on? Tyler shoves the urn in Francois' arms. Don't fuck it up.
Tyler takes off. Instantly, Francois gets pulled out with the urn from under the table like a rag doll.
Bonham stands over Francois, grabs the urn, and hands it over to Killian. Francois passes his rat's nest.
That's not actually what I meant to say. I was worse than that.
Francois presses his thumbs in Bonham's eyes as they both fall overboard. Killian moves through the crowd and the guests jump overboard to escape the maze.
Exterior, yacht, back, deck, continuous. Tyler hurries around a corner and hides inside the control room.
The falcon brute runs past and Tyler grabs their leather leash only to be dragged behind the falcon brute like a dog sled. Falcon brute stops in his tracks.
He slowly turns around and sees Tyler on the ground, mobilized with fear. Falcon Brute approaches Tyler with a stoic gaze.
He lifts him up eye to eye. A peaceful tranquility comes over Falcon Brute, for he's been deprived of human connection for so long.
Sunday. Makes sense, doesn't it? Falcon Brute brings Tyler in for a hug.
A sense of relief comes over Tyler. Tyler becomes concerned when the squeezing tightens to a bone-crushing ability.
A harpoon hits Falcon Brute in the back. With Tyler still in his grip, he turns to find Wyatt struggling to load a new harpoon.
Falcon Brute hurls Tyler over the railing and steps toward Wyatt when Falcon Brute's head snaps back as he falls and breaks his neck on the railing. Wyatt hurries to the railing and finds Tyler holding the leather leash tight with his feet planted firmly on the side of the yacht like a spy.
Be honest. Do I look like Jason Bourne right now? More like Austin Powers.
Wyatt pulls him back up. Tyler climbs over the railing.
John Wick? Yeah, keep practicing. White Volkswagen dusk.
Roland, Monty, and Amelia pull up into a cluster of partygoers running around like chickens with their heads cut off. What the hell is this? They quickly get out of the car.
Exterior, marina, continuous. It's 6.45 p.m.
We're gonna be late. Monty spots Samantha being assisted by Victoria, both soaking wet as they emerge from the crowd.
Monty hurries to help. Our water broke! I always imagined less water.
Bang, bang, bang, bang! Monty gets shot in the right hand, losing part of it. Everyone takes cover behind a car.
As Roland ducks down, the Jack-in-the-Box toy falls out of Chloe's purse and hits the ground. In the distance, gun pointed, Bonham, with his torn sleeve balled up and stuffed in his eye socket, clears the path through the crowd for Killian.
Amidst all the chaos, Killian recognizes his childhood toy on the ground. Quick flash of Killian as a young boy, turning the handle of that very same Jack-in-the-Box.
In disbelief, Killian opens the urn. It's empty.
He realizes the ashes are inside his jack-in-the-box toy. His heart sinks as he drops the urn.
Bang! Bang! Bonham reloads his revolver. Stretched out on the ground, Roland extends his hand for the car keys towards Monty.
I got this. I can feel it.

Two hands are better than one.

Unless both are cursed.

Monty throws the keys to Roland.

Roland swiftly picks up the Jack-in-the-Box toy,

jumps in the white Volkswagen Rabbit, and locks the doors.

Monty attempts to open the passenger door.

What are you doing? Open the door!

Roland starts the car.

Don't do this, Roland!

Cut to heavy machinery operating at a construction site nearby. A bolt pops off, sending a large saw blade rolling off at great speed.
Back to. Monty continues to yank on the door handle.
If it's got handles, I can handle it. In the distance, Tyler and Wyatt emerge from the crowd, seeing Roland at the wheel of a car.
You don't have a chance in hell! Suddenly, the saw blade hits the driver's door, jolting the car from the impact. Roland sees the sawblade planted firmly in the door.
With horror, he notices Tyler's gold amulet stuck on the edge of the sawblade. Roland and Monty look at each other, possibly for the last time.
Roland speeds off like a bat out of hell. Monty can't believe it.
Monty panics, refusing to let his lifelong friend head off to certain death. Killian sees Roland driving away.
Give me that gun! Bonham hands his revolver to Killian, who starts firing at Roland's car. Monty pulls a party-goer from his car and tosses him aside like a ragdoll.
Everyone get in, now! Amelia and Victoria quickly help Samantha to the back seat as she moans in labor pain. Killian and Bonham hop in their car and take off in pursuit of rolling.
As he wraps his injured hand, Monty spots Wyatt, pale and shell-shocked with Tyler's blood splattered on him. Wyatt, snap out of it! You're coming with us.
I need you to shift the gears. Wyatt jumps in the passenger seat.
Just breathe, honey. Deep breaths, in and out.
Shut up and get me to the hospital, Monty! Of course. First things first.
They peel away. Interior, exterior, Newman's car continuous.
Newman and Mulray wait at a red light. When we get there, let me do the talking.
The last thing we need to do is lose our momentum. Mulray takes a big bite of his hamburger and a sip of his milkshake.
Maybe he'll come to us. Crazier things have happened.
Roland's white Volkswagen, sorry, it's too funny. Roland's white Volkswagen Rabbit swerves around the corner wildly like an amateur driver.
Newman recognizes Roland. Killian's car swings around in pursuit, while Killian leans out, fires and shocks at him.
Monty's stolen car swings around the corner, but loses control, stopping inches away from Newman's car. That was close.
Everything is under control. She's just having a baby.
First gear, Wyatt! Wyatt snaps out of it and jerks the gear stick in first. Off they go.
Newman takes off after Monty. We've got shots fired.
Repeat, shots fired. We are in pursuit of what looks to be an 80s white rabbit.
It's an 80s white rabbit heading east on Ventura. Run, rabbit, run.
Copy that. The hunt is on.
Interior, white Volkswagen rabbit, continuous. Roland sees Killian's car in the rearview mirror as they gain on him.
Killian fires a shot, shattering Roland's back windshield. Bonham speeds up to clip Roland's rear panel.
Roland barely manages to maintain control of his car. Ten and two, ten and two.
Interior, Monty's car continuous. I think the baby's coming! Wyatt turns back.
Yoga breath, Sam, yoga breath. Fuck off, Wyatt! No one calls me Sam! This is all your fault.
Pectives cop light flashing behind them in the distance. Looks like you got a friend on your trail.
Monty looks in the rearview mirror and takes his foot off the gas. Why are you slowing down? The detectives approach.
Monty hits the brakes hard. Interior, Newman's car continues.
Unprepared, Newman jerks the wheel to avoid the collision. They slingshot past Monty and lose control.
Slow-mo, Newman and Mulray holding on tight as the car spins. Newman shows concerns while Mulray is worried about the floating milkshake in the air.
End of slow-mo. Newman's car comes to an abrupt stop.
Mulray realizes he managed to avoid any of the spill. He turns to Newman.
She's covered in Mulray's milkshake, and her death stare cuts right through him. Exterior, highway, moments later.
Roland, Killian, and Monty all haul ass

toward a group of motorhomes, driving

in a single file like ducklings.

Not far behind them is the entire police force

catching up with them.

Roland's car flies past the motorhomes,

with Killian's car close behind.

Interior, Monty's car continuous.

Wyatt sees the cops approaching. Looks like we're

gonna have to shed some pork fat. Monty thinks fast to create a diversion.
He comes dangerously close to the lead motorhome with the old lady's car hitched behind. Interior, exterior, lead motorhome continuous.
Terrified, the old lady driving, Martha gets startled and jerks the wheel. Jesus! Howard Christ! Hold on! Hold on to your seat, Carl! An old man on the toilet reacts to her erratic driving.
God dammit, Martha! I was so close! Like a chain reaction, all the motorhomes behind lose control, creating a barricade, forcing the cops to stop. Interior, Monty's car continuous.
Monty marvels at Roland's new driving skills. Terrible things, my ass.
Curse is broken. In front of him, Roland scrapes the rail guard, knocking the side mirror off.
Interior, white Volkswagen rabbit continuous. Roland regains control, noticing the missing mirror.
Did I need that? Interior, Killian's car shortly afterashes against them as they race side by side. Killian leans out of his window and points the gun over the roof to fire at Monty.
Monty swerves and the bullets hit the headlight. Monty's car continues.
Wyatt leans out the window and aims his gun at Killian's car with his eyes closed, anticipating the recoil. Do it! Wyatt fires a shot, exploding Killian's front tire.
Killian's car swings hard out of control towards Monty. At the last second, Killian's car rolls and flips in the air, scraping the roof of Monty's car as it passes over.
Monty and Wyatt lock eyes with Killian and Bonham through the sunroof as we hear the sound of a baby crying. Monty turns around and sees Samantha holding a newborn wrapped in a sweater.
Interior, white Volkswagen Rabbit continuous. Roland looks at the commotion behind.
He turns his eyes back to the road just in time to avoid hitting a parked car. He clips the corner, sending him in the air.
He violently lands back on all four tires. In a daze, Roland looks for the Jack-in-the-Box toy as Monty's car abruptly pulls up next to him.
Get in, you crazy son of a bitch! Wyatt opens his door as Roland stammers inside, toy in hand. Exterior, Monty's car continuous.
Everyone is silent as they drive. Monty extends his wounded hand to squeeze Samantha's hand tight.
Moments later, they drive down the long driveway to the Cherry house. Right on time.
Park in the back. Exterior, interior, Cherry's house, continuous.
Dorian opens the door as Monty and Roland approach, looking like shit with a Jack in the Box toy. Cutting it close.
Traffic was a bitch. She leads them inside.
All the way down, last door on your right. Dorian watches Roland and Monty with a sense of resolution as they head down the hallway.

Behind Dorian, out of nowhere, Killian pulls her head back and slices her throat swiftly. He drops her body while keeping his attention on Monty and Roland.
He hangs the car keys up on the hook. Interior, cherry study continuous.
Roland and Monty enter, finding Jamison, preparing a cigar.

As you can imagine,

this situation has grown to be quite sensitive.

It certainly has.

We're sorry for your loss.

Roland extends the toy to Jamison.

Just set it on my desk.

Roland obeys.

What gives a man the nerve to cross the ropes of morality and take something only he feels belongs to him? I guess that depends on what he's taking. Jameson shakes his head in disagreement.
It doesn't matter what he's taking. Entitlement.
A false sense of it will encourage a man to abandon all reason and sabotage whatever good might be left in him.

Jameson picks up a picture of Jameson and Killian as young boys with their parents.

The boys look happy and close.

Fiona, their mother, forces a smile.

This was taking a couple of days before she passed.

Our parents wanted nothing more than to have children.

They shared the kind of love you only find in books.

They tried for years to get pregnant.

He sets the picture down.

From the moment they received news that they were having twins,

they were consumed with joy. With great anticipation, they waited.
But with all things planned, so come the unplanned. Roland and Monty listen intently.
Our mother nearly passed away due to complications during the delivery. She was never the same.
A terrible depression eventually dismantled her ability to love herself, and in time, self-compassion became lost to her. The burden of our luck to be born would only prove to be our loss.
My father always said,

never consider a man lucky until he reaches his journey's end.

Do you still consider yourself lucky, Roland?

Time will tell.

What is it you want?

An understanding.

More of a promise, really.

We want our names cleared.

You returned something to me that I can't replace.

My father deserves to be respected in his death, so...

that his soul may finally rest.

Are we free of any harm now that this is all over? I have no quarrel with you. You have my word.
No harm shall befall any of you. Jameson extends his hand as Roland shakes it, eye to eye.
I promise it is. Jameson turns to Monty.
Your debt has been absolved. Roland discovers after years that Monty's gambling debt he took on was with the Cherry family.
You owe your life to Roland. That can never be repaid.
That kind of bond is rare as the Pope's piss. Monty now realizes that Roland is the one that paid his debt.
Roland and Monty leave, trusting Jameson's promise. Jameson approaches the jack-in-the-box.
The moment is heavy. He turns the handle slowly as he listens to the familiar chime.
He stops, realizing he's not ready to see his father's remains.

Jameson picks up the toy,

and we will follow him through the house

as he makes his way towards

exterior interior Cherry's barn, continuous.

Jameson closes the barn door behind him,

and just as he turns around,

he sees Killian face to face.

Jameson winces. He looks down to find Killian's knife in his gut.
We're brothers. We haven't been for some time.
Jameson's head sags gently against Killian's shoulder. Killian lowers Jameson to the ground.
And Dad loved you most because you reminded him of her. Killian stares in Jameson's eyes as he stops breathing.
He pulls the knife out. He stands up, knife in hand.
His eyes fill with tears. Killian steps back.
His foot lands onto the jack-in-the-box toy.

And just like Achilles' heel having survived so much,

he slips and falls, landing on his own knife penetrating through his chest.

Killian struggles to breathe as he reaches for the handle of the jack-in-the-box.

He manages to slightly touch it, ejecting the ashes and a rabbit puppet. Dissolved to.
Killian, in the same position, stretched out on the bathroom floor where he lost his mother all those years ago. He takes his last breath.
Interior, hospital room, morning. The open eyes of a newborn, held by Monty, who's sunken in a chair, fast asleep, as Amelia interacts with the baby.
Samantha is resting in the hospital bed. Roland is looking through a magazine for baby cribs.
Tyler's gold amulet is hanging around his neck. A doctor inspects Francois' nose.
Francois slaps the doctor's hands away. Victoria laughs at his expense.
Wyatt storms in. Run! Roland and Monty spring up.
Roland tosses the magazine as Monty hands his baby to Samantha, giving them a kiss each. They both bolt for the door.
Buckle up! Cops run by the room in pursuit. Exterior, hospital, continuous.
Roland and Monty hurry out the door. They run past the bum from the police station.
Roland quickly slaps $30 into the bum's hands. About fucking time.
The cops emerge from the hospital. Freeze on Roland and Monty.
Roland has a big grin, kissing Tyler's gold amulet. Monty looks terrified.
Interior, Floyd's car, street parking, continuous. Floyd It eagerly grips the steering wheel, focused like a hawk.

His fancy AI robot is in the passenger seat.

Floyd sees Roland, Monty, and Amelia hurrying around the corner.

Shit, quick, put your seatbelt on, they're coming!

The AI robot doesn't move.

Fine, I'll do it.

He quickly fastens its seatbelt.

Now, these guys are real pros, so do not embarrass me.

Based on my evaluation, you don't need any assistance in that department. Nice real nice no I didn't program you to be a smartass.
You didn't program me. I guess that's what I get for turning you on.
Boy I miss the old days. Cut to car doors slamming tires peeling out with a thick cloud of smoke dissipating, revealing a black cat hissing.

Fade to black.

Super.

In short, Luxe always to blame.

The end.

Hey!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Woo!

Recaps and trailer.

Recaps and trailer.

Recaps and trailer.

Recaps and trailer.

Recaps and trailer.

I haven't even talked yet yet.

I can't talk.