Guard (peeking through): Boss, we got him.
The guard steps back, and out walks General Manager Jeffry Campbell in a red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his signature big white hat.
Campbell: Where is he?
The guard tilts his head and walks away. Campbell follows him to a set of stands, where Johnny Cyclone is seated, surrounded by guards, with Cyrus Reed standing over him.
Campbell (approaching): Cyclone! Johnny, mate, ya right?
Cyclone (clutching his ribs and gritting his teeth): I'll tell you the honest truth, sir... No.
Campbell: I meant in the bloody head! But I reckon the answer's the same, right? What the hell were ya thinkin'?!
Cyclone (lowers head): I... wasn't... Sor-
Campbell (hands on hips): Strewth, ya weren't thinkin'? All that time ya spent comin' to this joint - which me and Dr Tanaka straight up told ya not to - hoppin' over that railing and spearin' Kruscher through a bloody door, not a single thought runnin' through that noggin of yours? (throws hands up) Just another bloke with a billion-dollar body and a 10-cent brain, is that it? (leans forward) I don't think so!
Cyclone: Jeff... (looking up) he put me through... a car.
Campbell: Bloody oath, he put ya through a car! And if ya weren't such a freak athlete, ya'd be in a wheelchair! That's why we told ya to stay away.
Cyclone: And I wanted to. I did, but-
Campbell: But ya had to get ya lick back, right? Alright, answer me this, mate. Did ya reckon there was anyone on the other side of that door?
Cyclone's eyes widen.
SDS: That's a very good question.
Campbell: Well?
Cyclone: ... No.
Campbell: And what were ya gonna do if there was? Or if, God forbid, ya aim was off, and ya chopped Katrina or the cameraman in half?
DS: Wow, Campbell not being the biggest idiot in the room. Guess anything can happen.
Cyclone (looking down): I... ah don't know.
Campbell: I reckon ya wouldn't have a clue what that door cost either, would ya? (points at the stadium) And here I am shellin' out a hundred grand. Could probably use a bit of that meself right now.
Cyclone: Je-
Campbell: You know this is council land, right? The whole bloody complex belongs to the city of Suva; hell, the whole flaming nation of Fiji!
Cyclone: I'm-
Campbell: Or you should know that, since I sent an email out to EVERYONE!
Campbell turns away fuming. Reed looks down at Cyclone, shaking his head.
Cyclone: Jeff, sir, I am sorry-
Campbell: Nah, mate, but ya will be (turns back to look at him). 'Cause I'm gonna give ya what ya want. Next week, Port Moresby, New Guinea, you and Kruscher are gonna go one-on-one, one final time.
The crowd pops.
Campbell: And just so everyone and everything can be protected from ya, it's gonna be inside a STEEL CAGE!
SDS: OH, MAN!
DS: HE'S A DEAD MAN!
Cyclone frowns and nods.
Campbell (looks off in the distance): And ya know what? Whoever survives that cage, whatever's left of you or Kruscher, is gonna drag itself to Dunedin, New Zealand, and challenge either Paul Grizzly or Vito Montani for the World Dominion Championship at the Valentine's Brawl!
The crowd explodes.
DS: WHAT?!
SDS: MY GOD!
DS: HE CAN'T DO THAT?!
SDS: HE JUST DID!
Cyclone's eyebrows raise.
Campbell (stepping closer): Righto, do us a massive favour. (pointing at the entrance of the property) Piss off outta me sight!
Cyclone (standing up): Yes, sir. And... once again, I-
Reed (shoves him): BOVE!
Cyclone glares at the Deputy Chief briefly, and complies.
Campbell: An’ Cyrus, when yer done chuckin’ Cyclone out, go find Kruscher, make sure Tanaka’s patched ‘im up and bounce ‘im off this mob too. (walks back to the big production tent) Now, ev’ryone get back ter work!
The feed ends.
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