"STOP THAT!"

A voice cries out...half authoritative, half desperate. Fading in. A room full of endangered teens cease their silly dance routine, staring at an exasperated Wizard. He heaves. He’s soaked in a cold sweat. He’s never encountered anything like this before.

Teen Hugh: Was that not to your liking, sir? How about this?

They begin another routine.

Clarence Hill: FOR THE LOVE OF PANGEA...STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP ITTTT!!!

We cut outside. Warrick Hill is pouring a bit of whiskey into a paper cup before handing it to the mildly attractive receptionist. Her face expresses concern.

Receptionist: Should we...are they?

Warrick Hill: They’ll be fine. He’s in more trouble than they are.

Receptionist: He’s a convict.

Warrick Hill: Ex-convict. And, believe me, not all convicts are tough.

The door flies open. The Wizard stumbles out, hunched over, gasping for air. Warrick raises both eyebrows and hands the woman her concocted libation. Warrick takes his and forces a toast.

Warrick Hill: See?

A sip and a wince later…

Receptionist: Maybe we should see if HE’S okay?

Warrick rolls his eyes.

Warrick Hill: Little bro. You alright?

Not wishing to be looked further down upon by his older brother, The Wizard stands up straight and reconvenes his guts. He nods.

Clarence Hill: I’ll be fine. Think I had some bad sushi or something.

He re-enters. Warrick can’t remember if he ever had sushi while incarcerated but doesn’t really care. He turns his attention back to the receptionist. We switch back to a view inside the training room.

Teen Catrina: Are you okay, sir?

Clarence Hill: Not, really. It’s been a bad couple of months and now…

The group of endangered teens look at one another. They share an understanding and start a routine to cheer him up. We cut back to the exterior. A man walks in, interrupting Warrick and the Receptionist’s conversation.

Man: Uh, hey there...I was just dropping off an Amazon package and, well, it’s really none of my business but I couldn’t help but notice there might be a dead guy in the back of a car.

Warrick downs the rest of his drink.

Warrick Hill: That’s John E Depth. He’s fine. Just a little depressed over his loss to Puffer a few weeks back. Leave the package and mind your own fuckin business.

We cut to a shot of Depth motionless, shades covering his face, in the back of Warrick’s car. He looks like he could very much be dead. The Amazon employee does as instructed, driving away. Back inside, Warrick pours himself another drink. He hears music playing within the training room.

Warrick Hill: There’s no fuckin way he fixes those kids.

The receptionist agrees.

Back inside the room. In the midst of witnessing another cringe-inducing routine, The Wizard leans against the wall. The room begins to spin. Acid rallies up his throat emerging in the form of fury. He becomes apoplectic. Leaping forward, The Wizard loses his shit on the endangered teens. We cut away.