All language subtitles for Heels.S02E05.720p.WEB.h264-EDITH

Previously, on Heels...

Willie around?

Not at the moment.
Can I help you?

She leave anything for me?

You're not gonna be
some gushing fanboy

all day, are you?

Just go to the bar and get me
two goddamn martinis.

Whatever the fuck you say.

Crystal.
Meet Elle Dorado.

Real name's Tanya.

Elle's a pro.

Oh!

So are you.

Crystal! Crystal!

It's granddad's crown.

It's all right, buddy.

Your dad won't care.

I got this idea.

Could use some help.

You help me restore
my honor in the ring

with a cross-promotion
between the DWL and Dystopia,

or I hit you back and take
every goddamn dollar you make

for the rest
of your goddamn life.

Yeah! Yeah!

Oh!

I am... the Condamned.

Whoo!

Listen up, folks!

It's "con-damned."

Do not conjure incorrectly.

You risk offending
that bewildering barnstormer.

His voice may have been garbled,

but that specter
can't possibly share

a name with the most high,

for the most high
has cast that demon below.

Say it with me.

Con!

Con!

Damned!

Damned!

All together!

Condamned!

Condamned! Condamned!

Condamned! Condamned!
Condamned!

For those of you wondering,
"What was that?"

that was the Condamned.

Come back next week
as we peel back the mystery

of he who fell
from the skylight.

This is Eddie Earl
with Bobby Pin,

signing off from Duffy, Georgia,

the cradle of the greatest
wrestling in America,

the DWL.

What the heck was that?

Uh, that was the Condamned.

Well, they-they could
have told us that.

A heads-up would have been nice.

Condamned!
Condamned! Condamned!

Jack or Ace tell you
that was the fucking finish?

No. They kayfabed all of us.

Tryin' to keep us on our toes.

I almost had a heart attack.

I know CPR, if it ever happens.

- It's gonna happen!
- Listen, guys.

Ace is my daughter's godfather,

and I didn't even know
he was in town.

Willie, if y'all knew
anything about that,

it's bullshit
you kept it a secret.

Rule #1 of kayfabe is
don't kayfabe the boys!

Secrets are only secrets
if you don't tell anyone.

Willie, a company
of compadres are only

true compadres when we know what

we are all compadre-ing about.

A mysterious seraph
riding in on a chariot?

'Twas glorious. Admit it.

I don't gotta admit shit.

- Bill...
- Bobby.

Don't know the word "seraph."

Seraph's a high-ranking
angel, young Bob.

He's an angel, but he's damned?

Condamned.

So he's a fallen angel,
like Satan.

Satan?

Nobody told me Ace
was playing Satan.

No. Ace isn't playing Satan.

So then what is he?

He's whatever Jack
and Ace say he is,

and when they tell us,
that's when we'll know.

Well, as a reporter,
I'm supposed to ask questions.

During the show.
The show's over, dummy.

Good shit tonight.

We gotta cover this entire night

for the podcast.

Yeah? Write up some notes.

Text me.

Where's my brother?

That was a top-five
DWL moment right there!

Do you feel good?

You should feel good.

- Think it got over?
- Course it got over.

Big time.

Crowd was gasping and shouting.

Ace Spade is back.

Yeah, well, it's not
like it's me, Ace Spade.

It's supposed to be this thing
where i-it's not me,

so it doesn't have
to be me, but... yeah.

It felt good.

It should've.

It was good.

Well, it's a first step anyway.

Oh, shit.

- What?
- Hey.

Told you
we should have told Gully.

Wasn't his business.

I don't think that's gonna fly.

Bill?

Coming, dear.

That was a damn entrance.

Wasn't sure I could pull it off.

Butterflies.

Emotions, you know.

Hey, it's good
to have you back, man.

I just wanna say,
if you need to talk to anyone

about anything,
I'm-I'm here for ya.

Even... even if I am
a married man with a baby,

that don't make me,
uh... I don't know,

not your friend.

You know, part of the reason
I un-retired and came back

was to do this with you,
so just saying reach out.

You're a good friend, Jim.

I haven't been one
to you lately.

Oh, cut the shit.

I'm not trying to have
a long conversation.

Not here, anyway.

Just, uh, stop by
and visit your goddaughter.

I'm gonna.

I promise.

Oh, and be ready
to stay the night,

'cause we're goin' out,
and you're babysitting.

Pick your poison.

I'd take one of each,
but, uh, I gotta head out.

One beer.

Can't. Road life.

Get in, get out, move on.

Break a few hearts
along the way, if I'm lucky.

Tanya, you were...
so great tonight.

I-I'll push Jack
to bring you back.

Focus on them pushing you.

Only way to improve
is by improving.

Take care of your knees.

Best advice I never got.

Oh, and check for peepholes.

Really?

Huh.

Thanks for being so cool.

Condamned, what are you?

I'm vengeance.

Isn't that what Batman says?

I taught it to Batman.

Taught him everything he knows.

Get it!

Could you sign this for me?

Thank you.

I appreciate it, man.

Gully's pissed.

Gully's always pissed.

What the fuck was all that?

That was a lights-out finish.

Literally.

That was not
the finish we booked.

Ace came to me last minute.

You had time to rig a zipline!

That's easy to do
if you're handy.

I informed Rooster and The Hole

that this might happen
before the match.

I'll take that up
with them later,

but it's not about informing.

It's about you and I
booking this cross-promotion

and agreeing on how
we're gonna do it,

which I thought we had done,

so I was stowed away up here,
like a gerbil in a pet shop,

shitting on myself,
watching, waiting,

assuming things were gonna go
according to the plan

that you and I agreed to,
but no.

Needle scratch. No.

Y'all change shit up
with some fucking ghoul

in a "Quadrophenia" coat.

Fucking Adam Ant meets
the Hamburglar,

who apparently stole
Burger King's crown.

Hey, bud, I got a phone.

You could have called, texted.

You could have walked up
one flight of fucking stairs

and whispered your big,
new, dumb idea in my ear.

Nope! Surprise, Charlie.

Fucking Ace hijacks
the entire night!

- Not Ace. The Condemned.
- "Condamned."

Nothing got hijacked.

It was the cherry on top
of a DWL storyline.

It's got nothing to do with you.

Hey, Billy Boy,
in this cross-promotion,

there is no storyline that's
got nothing to do with me.

Nobody told me that
I was gonna have to run

every little detail by ya!

Detail? It was the finish!

Jack wrote Rooster
an amazing promo.

Yeah, before the Condemned
dive-bombed him

and launched some bullshit!

It's "Condamned," Charlie boy.

It's "fuck you," Bill!

Shall we start the foreplay

with me sitting on your face
again?

Only if you'd like your nuts
chewed off this time.

I'll hold him down
while you do it.

Be my guest and try.

I'm so glad
we're working together.

Dystopia was supposed
to end the night

up with the ring invasion.

Instead, we end the night down,

in front of 1,000 people.

1,122.

New Dome record, much of this

due to Crystal's new popularity.

Charlie, fuck-yous

and scrotum chewing aside,
Jack delivered.

Speaking as a hall-of-famer,

looked to me
like the cross-promotion

was kicked off perfectly.

Well, speaking
as one pissed-off motherfucker,

it looked like my top guys
got beat up by a guy

named after a non-word.

Jack, two pieces of advice.

One, get a new sound system
that doesn't sound

like you bought it
at Radio Shack.

Two, get a spelling book,

'cause the word is "condemned!"

Maybe I didn't consider this
with the level of granularity

that you were expecting,
but I am not used

to having to run everything
by a partner!

Get used to it!

Or the lawsuit is back on.

Geezum Crow.

You wanna play Fuck-Fuck?

Spin the wheel!

I, too, should have been
more granular,

so let's get granular now.

Ace's Blair Witch Project
is gonna get his ass kicked

in my ring next week.

End of discussion!

It's a slow-burn character,
Charlie.

He's not gonna wanna do it!

Well, that's
your problem to fix.

Talk to your brother,

and you better book
the Condamned

in the fucking card next week

and pray that I don't
zipline down and fuck him up

in whatever whimsical way

I feel like fucking improvising
at my fancy.

I'm tryin' to fucking work
with you guys, man.

I'm trying
to fucking work together.

I'm trying to be
a fucking partner.

You're not making it
fucking easy.

Fuck you!

Thanks.

Now I gotta ride home with him.

Intrigued about how
to play Fuck-Fuck.

Apparently there's a wheel.

Hamburglar was a deep cut.

And Adam Ant.

Must have watched a lot of MTV.

I put us
in a real bad spot here.

I begged Ace to come back
and told him

we'd do the DWL together.

Now we're making shit up
on the fly

to appease Ace's psyche.

I'm trying not to be my dad.

I'm trying to take input
from you,

and from you, and from Ace.

Any of your notebooks
have something

for a situation like this?

A situation in which
a brand-new masked character,

one who just revealed
his true identity

by holding aloft
the charred crown

of his dead father?

Are you asking is there a page
in one of my notebooks

that might provide us
with some direction

as to how we will continue
this new storyline

while in the midst
of a looming lawsuit

that threatens to crush the DWL?

I can say with confidence that
nowhere in the many notebooks

that I have pondered
countless, wide-ranging topics

is there insight as to how
to make

this particular situation work.

But sounds like we must try
quickly.

You were amazing tonight.

But then,

you're always amazing.

You had a good night too.

Oh, limpin' around
playin' reporter.

Gorilla Monsoon made
a career out of that.

Hmm.

Ace's new gimmick
hit it out of the park.

Oh, oh, surprised the pants
off me,

even though I could tell
it was Ace.

Well, it's not like
you're not supposed to know.

He pulled out his dad's crown.

How much, uh, did you,
you know, help?

I just did his hair
and his makeup.

The other stuff
he's still figuring out.

He really wants to, you know,
create his own thing.

Uh, I'll be right back.

Yeah.

Hey, uh, Willie,
when is Jack having tryouts

for the women's division?

Your guess is as good as mine.

You got candidates,
send me names.

Well, I got no one
to wrestle next week.

Well, that's all right.

Take a week off. Cut a promo.

What? Why? A-against who?

Oh, boy.

This tone again, really?
Wah-wah.

Me-me.

The complaints and entitlement.

Look, right now,
Jack's got Gully up his ass...

Okay. W-we can do it.

Jack's not gonna care.

You and I can hold the tryouts.

I'll go online,
and I'll find some girls

up in South Carolina
or something.

I can't lose momentum.

You won't lose momentum.

Make your own momentum.

And make sure you're using
a condom.

That one's, you know,
a little bit dim.

Dumb.

D-don't say that.

Bobby is a good guy

who thinks before he speaks,

who considers feelings,

who knows that whatever he says
can either lift someone up

or put them down,
so I-I'm not gonna stand

for you putting him down to me.

Okay. Lighten up.

How about you don't tell me
that you being mean

is something I need
to lighten up about?

How about that?

Your eyes are squinty.

Is it bad news?

Mm. No news.

No plans.

Just a week off.

Hmm.

You wanna do a push-up contest?

Time to head home, Jack Spade.

Crazy night.

I need help.

With putting the money
in the safe?

What to do next.

How to do it.

Can you help me?

I have no expertise
in wrestling.

I don't even... I don't know.

What's the opposite
of expertise?

Beginner-pertise?

I like having you
here working with me.

Have you liked it?

It's our family business.

Mm-hmm.

With the cross-promotion,
things are probably

gonna get a little crazy here.

Willie's underwater already.

She's, uh... she's goggle-eyed.

I worry that things
might be, you know,

falling through the cracks.

A woman from the County
came by the other day,

looking to get
something from Willie,

but Willie wasn't here.

The woman seemed angry.

She was here again tonight.

I saw Willie give her
whatever she was looking for,

so I hope it all worked out.

That'd be Sonya Tuckerman.

She does
the county tax assessment,

so it's that time of year again
when she's gonna cost us,

but she's fine.

She j-just doesn't realize
how she comes across,

which is dour and grumpy.

Let me wash up.

We'll get home.

Rise and shine, sleepyhead!

I been calling you.

Texting you. Seven times.

I had to bail last night

and take care of my pops.

He all right?

Yeah. That sums it up.

He just a'ight.

Let me know if I can help.

May I shift subjects
and express my displeasure

about last night's show
while acknowledging

that this may lack perspective

about your father's
current health?

You knew about the Condamned
beforehand?

Only moments beforehand.

Yet you didn't call me?

Because my phone
was in my damn locker!

- I'm just asking!
- When I'm 'bout to go up,

I'm working on what I gotta do.

I ain't got my phone out,
looking at TikTok,

texting, and calling people.

It was locked up
in my locker so I could focus.

Now, Jack wrote me
a great promo.

Look, I'm playing ball.
He playing ball.

He juggling you and Ace.
It's complicated!

Well, it's gonna get
a lot more complicated

if the Condamned
isn't in my ring

Saturday night,
getting his ass kicked!

Look, those Spade boys
don't know

what that Condamned thing is,
and they damn sure

ain't gonna figure it out
by Saturday.

Look, the only reason
I agreed to this

because I believe it's
good story.

Thus, eventually money
in my pocket and yours.

Now, come on, Charlie.

Remove your emotions.

Think creatively.

Now, you remember how bad
you wanted Ace, right?

- I do.
- Mm-hmm.

Now, the Condamned gimmick
is already way better

than any Ace gimmick.

Now, let's say we string
this thing along.

We build us back up, and we make

this cross-promotion thing work.

Who's DWL's top guy,
to take on me?

I mean, it's gotta be
somebody, right?

- Yeah.
- I mean, they last champion

was a girl
the size of Tinkerbell.

And they former top guy,
Jack Spade,

just lost clean
to that Tinkerbell.

And the legendary Wild Bill

is a pants-shitting
laughingstock

who's one match away
from slipping into a warm bath,

slitting his wrists, and
donating his brain to science.

- Oh, my God.
- Now,

the Condamned is mysterious.

The Condamned is new.

Now, if I beat a masked
vigilante

who seems like he can kick
100 guys' asses in the alley,

who's the real cock of the walk?

Rooster time.

- Dad?
- Hey, honey.

You got a call from a guy

named Brooks Rizzo,
in Hollywood.

He works for a social media app

and streaming company
called Continuum.

He wants to discuss
putting Dystopia on TV.

- What?
- Well, not TV,

but on their platform,

which plays on TVs,
and tablets, and phones,

like all the streaming
service companies.

- Let's go!
- That's what I'm talking 'bout!

- All right! All right!
- Come on! Come on!

Guys, we-we about to be famous!

Yeah we are!

- You damn right!
- Okay!

- Hey, Mom.
- Hi.

You finally got some sleep.

Mm.

So, tell me what happened.

She ended up being nice.

What was her stage name?

Wasn't really a stage name.

It was more like a gimmick.

Elle Dorado.

Well, what's her real name?

Tanya.

That was popular
when I was a kid.

They ever give you
kind of a fake name?

I'm just me.

Crystal.

Rock solid.

All natural.

She said it's not easy.

The road.

She said to watch out
for peepholes.

Well, if I wasn't in here,
I'd go on the road with you.

No one would ever risk
peeping at you

through peepholes
with me around.

Goddamn, I hate not being there
to look out for you.

I'm fine.

- It's all fine.
- No, it ain't.

You're out there, on your own.

I should have been there
with you the whole time.

Mom, it's fine.

Don't worry.

I am strong.

Really.

Just like you said.

Rock solid.

I just want you home.

I know.

I'm sorry.

Don't be.

You don't need to say it.

I met a guy.

Oh, do tell.

Only if it's a nice guy.

Good to see you.
Thank you.

Just saw Mr. Devaux.

He was at the show last night.
Loved it.

Fred Devaux loved the show?

Yeah.

- High school principal.
- Aw.

It's weird having
people actually like you.

One of these days,
you're gonna have to let me

- know what that feels like.
- I'm trying to.

Hey, after you left last night...

Oh, one sec.
Tricia Bell texted me

and said
that she wants to be, like,

my goth/emo valet.

Catwoman kinda thing.

Last time didn't terrorize her?

Says she's intrigued.

You're blowing up.

Yeah, but it's more
than that, you know?

Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Hey, look.

After you left last night,

I had a chat with Charlie Gully,

and he offered to host
the Condamned at Dystopia.

Host? Host what?

He wants to feature
the Condamned

at Dystopia this week.

Of course he does,
'cause it's dope.

- Obviously, the answer's no.
- Okay.

No way we're wasting
the Condamned at his shitshow.

- He can host this.
- Hey, hey.

Come on, dude.

Look, when we're at church,

you do not need to grab
your unit to make a point.

All right?
S-sorry. Sorry. Sorry, Staci.

I'm sorry, Jesus.

I understand the impulse,
relative to the situation.

Best sister-in-law ever.

I don't think Gully understands
what this all means to you.

No way he could.

That being said, I did tell him

that I would run it by you.

Okay, well, tell him you did,
and tell him I told you

there's no way we're wasting
the Condamned

on an audience that wouldn't
understand the...

nu-the nuance.
Is "nuance" a word?

Mm-hmm.

The-the-the-the complexity

of what we got goin' on here.

There's a chance
for this gimmick to really,

really speak to people
about, uh, impulse,

and-and appetite, and the-
the cost of those things.

You know, redemption.

Deliverance from evil.

Like in the Lord's Prayer.
"Deliver us from evil."

It's all right there
waiting to be tapped

and told for new audiences.

Mm-hmm.

You understand,
don't you, Staci?

You can see it.

I do understand.

And you can see it?

I can.

Come here.

Aw.

God bless you.

Aw, I love you too.

Hey.

You all right?

I'm great.

You don't seem great.

Yeah, well...

Let's just do this.

Yes, let's.

Should we discuss the Condamned?

You tell me.

Let's discuss it.

It was big news.

Cool.

Hey, hey.

What is up with the pout-pout?

I'm trying to help you,

open doors for you.

Expose you to stuff.
Lift you up.

Make your dreams come true.

And you're pouty-pout
man-pouting

about I don't fucking know what.

You treat me like a scrub.

You treat me like a gofer.

You aren't lifting me up.

You're using me to buck up
your fragile ego.

My ego isn't fragile.

Everyone's ego is fragile,

but good people
don't treat other people badly

to build theirs up.

And...

Three, two, one.

Welcome.

Quick bit of business.

I know y'all love listening
to the Wild Bill Podcast,

but going forward,

we got a new name in the title.

Going forward, this is
not the Wild Bill Podcast.

This is the Wild Bill

and Diego Cottonmouth Podcast.

Been a great partnership so far

and one I hope will continue.

It's an honor
to be with you, Bill.

All right, let's get into it,
shall we?

First up...

Caitlyn, please get Brooks.

He's coming.

And please tell

whoever redecorated my office
over the weekend,

who clearly thought
they were doing me a favor,

that when they redecorate,
they shouldn't insult

people's intelligence
with fake books

with... colorful spines
that I would like to burn.

Brooks, I am meeting
with the board in two weeks.

Please brighten my day
with some good news.

Darren Phillips
scouted women's golf,

said there might be
some possibilities there.

Taylor said that we can get
Kentucky Derby coverage cheap.

Imagine our surge in subscribers

when people find out there's
a new platform

where you can watch horses
running around

while getting whipped,
surrounded by women in hats.

We're very much
all over the place.

We need not to be.

I'm going to Florida
to scope out

some independent professional
wrestling promotions.

I hate professional wrestling
even more than I hate horses.

You don't hate horses.

I hate when they're racing
and getting whipped.

You know, horses aren't
naturally competitive.

It's humans who
make them that way.

Perhaps I hate horses more
because of the people

who own them, who make them
something they're not.

Last year, total revenue
for professional wrestling

was 1.095 billion.

I guess I could grow to love
professional wrestling.

Although, I hate when men
wear those bikini pants.

Either wear shorts or nothing,
not in between.

So we buy a wrestling promotion.

More than one. Grab a handful.

Promote the hell out of 'em.

Build it, brand it, live shows
and streamed content.

Expand. Who knows?

Maybe, in one to three years,
it grows.

Optimism is mental illness,
but it's cute.

Have fun. Don't drink.

Hmm.

You look handy up there.

Just got to thinking
how, every summer,

we lose who knows
how many thousands of dollars'

worth of air conditioning
out these windows.

Hey, would you hand me
that towel there?

I should get you
to come to my place.

I'm happy to help
wherever I can.

Jack was thinking,
with the cross-promotion chaos,

things might get
a little busy around here,

so I figured
I might as well help out.

- All for one and all, you know.
- Yeah, well,

the list of things
we need help with

is never-ending.
You don't wanna know.

I do.

Sump pump's busted.

- Maybe I don't.
- Exactly.

Oh, hey, Willie,

before you go, uh,

you connected
with Sonya Tuckerman,

the woman from the County?

I did. Thanks.

Okay.

Yeah, so she got
what she came for then?

Saturday night, in the hallway?

Yeah. She got it.

Jack says
she's the tax assessor.

She is.

I paid a bill.

For some bills, we write checks,

and some we pay in cash.

You pay the property taxes
in cash, in an envelope?

We do.

We pay the property taxes
in cash, in an envelope,

and Sonya Tuckerman handles it.

And if Sonya Tuckerman
didn't handle it,

we'd be screwed.

That's enough of an answer.

No, it isn't.

Staci...

this isn't anything
you need to worry about.

It looks like it might be.

It isn't.

Okay, look, there's-there's
two kinds of women.

There are women
who get taken care of.

You know, they emit
some kind of soft vapor.

People gather around
and take care of 'em.

That's you.

And then there's me.

I emit some kind
of coal engine smoke.

I get dirty, and I fix shit,

and I stay up all night
worrying about

more dirty shit I gotta fix.

I fix shit, so you don't have
to spend a single second

worrying about un-fixed shit.

What's going on here, Willie?

You wanna know what's going on?

Here's what's going on.

Tom and I made
an agreement, years ago,

that we would do
whatever we needed to do

to keep this place alive.

And you don't need to worry
about what those things are.

Are they legal?

Some are.

Well, whatever
those other ones are,

we're not doing 'em anymore.

The DWL is
a house of cards built on sand,

in the middle of a hurricane,
on a leaky boat.

We do whatever we need to do.

Does Jack know?

No.

What else are we doing?

I wanna know everything.

I'm not gonna tell you
everything.

You're saying that to pretend
like you're protecting me

when, in fact, you're
only protecting yourself.

This turning into
that kind of conversation?

Everything that's going on,
Jack needs to know.

I need to know,
so we can make it right...

...move on.

"Make it right."

Well, those are some big,
shiny morals you've got there,

but here's the problem
with knowing stuff.

You can't un-know it,
so what if knowing stuff

means finding out the DWL

can't keep itself afloat legally

and never has?

What if it means finding out
that Tom had years and years

of promissory notes
and third mortgages

and lines of credit
and business loans he knew

he'd never be able to pay off?

Hmm?

Is that really something
you wanna know?

And how you gonna fix it?

How you gonna fix over $100,000
in county property taxes

that we avoided paying
because Sonya Tuckerman

had a crush on Tom?

What are you gonna do?

You gonna tell Jack
his father wasn't only

the bastard that left him,
but also a hustler

who didn't always tell the truth

to get people to give him money?

Tom didn't want Jack
knowing anything

'cause he didn't want
wrestling ruining his life,

and as for the DWL,

he probably forgot
he even willed it to him.

That will hadn't been touched
since Jack was six years old.

Back when Tom thought, as did I,

that this thing
was gonna be something

worth leaving someone.

Stupid.

Tom didn't do Jack any favors
leaving him the DWL.

He left him a rat's nest
to untangle,

and he left me with it.

I'm just stupid enough
to still be standing here,

trying to fix it.

You say you need
to make it right.

Make it right, Staci.

Take it all.

Tell Jack all about it.

Jack's an honest man.

We're all honest,
till we're not.

The Condamned is wrestling
at Dystopia this week.

No exceptions.

I'm not gonna blow
the Condamned's whole character

in some ordinary match with you.

First, the character's
been around what, three days?

Second, a match
with me is never ordinary.

I'm the FWD champ.

So by not wrestling me,
you get to keep

that belt a little longer.

Ace doesn't wanna wrestle
at Dystopia,

so it's not gonna happen.

You agreed
to this cross-promotion.

There's only one choice.

Well, there's two, if you count
gettin' sued and going bankrupt.

I'd say Charlie doesn't care
which, but he does.

His character really means
a lot to him.

Next, you gonna tell me
that he's not such a bad guy.

You keep telling that
to yourself until it sink in.

He's the one you got
to deal with,

because you punched him.

So you just focus
on what's next.

Right now, you just do
what you gotta do

so your bill don't get past due.

Ciao.

Tell me I'm being short-sighted.

You're not being short-sighted.

You're trying to pretend you
got a choice when you don't.

We can make it a shoot.

Go down there, and pin him
when he's not expecting it.

Ace, you can hold
him down for an hour,

and the ref will
never count to three.

Besides, you said you don't
wanna go back to Dystopia,

and I don't blame you.

I definitely don't.

It's not like I wanna go.

I'm just saying, as your
brother, if you told me,

"I need you to do it..."

No.

If you really
don't got a choice...

It's my fuck-up.

It's not yours.

You punched him
'cause you were trying

to save me from him.

That was the wrong way
to handle it.

This is your character.

Don't go messing with it
just to cover my mistake.

Fuck Gully.

I'd rather go down in flames.

I don't want you
to go down in flames.

I don't want us
to go down in flames.

Besides, flames are
the sort of situation

the Condamned's trying
to steer away from anyway.

We really are fucked.

Nah, not really.

It's just wrestling.

Give him Crystal.

Gully wants me, not Crystal.

Gully wants you to wrestle,
so don't wrestle.

Appear.

Ten seconds.
You're in. You're out.

Boom. It's over.

Gully'd wanna win the night.

Then Gully wins the night.

So what?

Move on.
Cut your losses, right?

Let's stop acting like we got
a choice in the matter.

Just do it. Go.

We can't throw
Crystal to the wolves.

Not at this point.

Crystal just
survived y'all's asses.

Y'all are wolves, bears,
lions, and hyenas.

And jackasses.
Crystal can handle Dystopia.

She can handle
whatever comes at her next.

Stop talking.

Let's fix this shit.

Those are something.
The bracelets.

Elle left them for me.

Bargain-basement
Wonder Woman she was.

She was nice.

Come sit.

Crystal, Jack is
sending Ace to Dystopia.

Not sending.

It's voluntary. He wants to go.

Now Gully's being a dick.

Sun's gonna rise tomorrow too.
Big surprise.

Anyhow, Ace is gonna do it.

One night.

And I think you should go too.

Lemons outta lemonade,
or other way around,

but the thing is,

you were right
about the women's league.

It's time we shit
or get off the pot.

We'll make Gully put you in
a match with one of his girls.

Women.

You know,
someone from his roster.

He's got a lot of 'em,
women down there.

Could be a big boost,

one you couldn't get here,

not without more women
on our roster, so go.

Don't just stand there,
staring at an open door.

Don't question it.

This is a chance.

You take it, and it'll lead
to another and another.

You get in that ring
at Dystopia,

and you say,
"Shove it up your ass.

I am here to sparkle."

And I'll be there
to protect you.

Okay.

I'll do it.

Willie says Gully
has me wrestling

some woman named Venus Cancer.

- Mm-hmm.
- Willie talked to her.

- Says she's cool.
- See?

You were all worried
you were gonna have

a week off and lose momentum,

and now you're a featured act
at Dystopia.

That's five times our crowd.

Trust your destiny.

Faith.

It's not a lot of prep time.

Your entire life,
up to this moment,

has been prep time.

God placed you in this moment,

not to test you,

to reward you,

to shine a spotlight on you.

I know this.

I do not know a lot,
but I know this.

At what point does,
like, your face fall off,

revealing yourself to be
some kind

of romance novel android man

engineered to make me feel good
about myself

when I'm at my lowest
and most uncertain?

Hmm.

I cannot compute
what you say, Crystal.

Go win!

Bobby 2000 at your service.

- Thank you.
- Mm-hmm.

Don't worry about calling.

Stay focused.

Oh, Jack says it's time to roll.

Bobby, wish us luck.

Oh, you don't need it.

We'll be watching
on the Dystopia livestream.

- Crush it, Crystal.
- Mm.

And you give 'em hell,
Condamned.

I really like you.

You know what I mean?

I really like you too.

No, no, no.

Now, now, now,
right after that, Venus,

I need you to kick out.

Kick out!

There it is. Good job.

Yo, Rooster, heads up.

And, well, looky here.

Hello, old friends.

Now, folks, let's give
a warm Dystopia welcome

to our partners from the DWL.

So I have some thoughts
on how this should go.

Well, your thoughts
better involve

you getting your asses kicked.

Rooster, I need
your help persuading Gully

that what I've booked is great.

Look, Jack, I'm not here to
help you with your business,

yo bitchin', your complainin',
or persuadin'.

Look, good shit sells itself.

Sell some good shit without
Condemnation Man winning,

and Gully will bite.

Why, in the name
of whatever almighty God

created this dog-eat-dog world
should I let you

book what happens in my ring

and trust that you're actually
gonna go through with it?

Well, first off, you get
to punch me in the face.

- Yay, Dad.
- Yeah, yay me.

Okay, keep going.

It gets better.

Brooks Rizzo just texted.

He's gonna be a little bit late.

We're not gonna start
the show without him,

so meet him out there
for will-call.

Sit next to him during the show.

If he needs anything,
get it to him.

- Dad?
- Yes?

- I got this.
- Okay. Thank you.

Ooh!

Yeah!

Get her on the corner, Venus.

Aha!

You okay, Crystal?

You okay, Venus?

Venus?

Okay.

Holy shit.

One, two...

All right. She's great.

Let's see how she is on the mic.

I am not gonna be thrown off
by your words, Jack.

I learned all of them.

I was in the senior class
play, Godspell.

Okay. Pipe down, Pippin.

I didn't do Pippin.

Pippin was not as good
of a musical.

Crystal, you wanna give...

Crystal, you wanna give up?

No.

Whoo!

No, she's doin' it!
She's doin' it!

Go!

One, two... two.

Two.

Hey! Hey!

Hey, where are you going?
Get back in here!

No más! Ah!

Don't look at me.
I'm still here.

Y'all came to see
wrestling, right?

Crystal Tyler!

That's a great name.

You got a lot of guts
coming down here,

taking on my number one lady,
Venus Cancer.

Hey, Kevin, give her a mic.

Crystal, you and I need to talk.

Talk about what?
How your wrestler is a coward?

- Ooh!
- Venus is not a coward.

She was just following orders.

My orders, because this
is my ring, and I am God!

I wanted to see

the Crystal Tyler show
in person.

You have come a long way
in a very short time.

From valet, to DWL champ,
to women's champ,

to pound-for-pound
the toughest S-O-B in the DWL.

It's true!

Yeah!

But tonight,
I have been reminded

of a very important
botanical truth.

Even in a shit pile
like the DWL,

a lovely rose can still bloom.

Okay, so to me, the real sin
is to leave that rose

growing in a shit pile.

Oh, Hole-i-o, please
bring me my briefcase.

Listen up, Crystal.

I wanna be
in the Crystal Tyler business.

I wanna see you realize
your full potential,

not selfishly,

but for the industry
that we both love.

I wanna build
the Crystal Tyler brand,

so please, just take a seat
and hear my pitch.

Sit. Sit. Sit.

Come on. You're my guest.

Sit down.

Please just sit.

I need Crystal Tyler
pay-per-views.

Crystal Tyler action figures.

Crystal Tyler home goods.

You know what I'm
talking about, right?

We both know that as long
as you stay in the DWL,

that will never happen.

Jack Spade can't take you
to the top, but I can.

Yeah!

You know, Rooster used to be
with the DWL, but, Rooster,

before you started working
with me, what kind of car

- did you drive?
- Tercel.

It's a fine car.
It's a fine car,

but what kind of car
are you driving now?

Lamborghini.

Whoo!

I can make you a star
beyond your wildest dreams.

Crystal Tyler,
I want you to join

Florida Wrestling Dystopia!

You know, being born
in Duffy means being born

into low expectations.

When you come from nothing,
it's okay to not succeed.

It's probably why
I never thought of myself

being worth a damn.

Mr. Gully, I have been
through stuff that no kid

should ever have to go through,

overcame way more
than I should have.

And just when I thought

I couldn't squeeze out any
more fight,

the Spade brothers
gave me a home.

And I'm not talking about a home

with a fireplace
and a big-screen TV

and a comfy, cozy couch.

No, I'm talking about a home
that was built for me.

The ring.

Because in the ring,

all the bullshit
that used to bury me

can't even touch me!

And so, for that, I'm forever
grateful for the Spade family.

Boo!

But this is a business,

and it's a nasty one, at that.

And there is no one looking
out for me now except for me.

Truth is, Mr. Gully,

I deserve everything
you offer and then some.

Mm-hmm.

You want Crystal Tyler
in Dystopia?

You want Crystal Tyler
in Dystopia?

Let's hear it, folks!

Let's hear it!

Well, then you know what?

My answer is...

...hell no!

I ain't no sellout,
and I am never working

for a bottom-feeding maggot
like you.

DWL for life!

Go on! Get out of here!

All right.

First, I just wanna say ow.

And now that you've done
the loyalty act,

let's get down to business.

Help me out, Hole.

This right here is
a two-year contract

for you to join FWD,

and right here...

is $100,000!

Whoo!

A bonus for signing it!

Did Jack Spade ever give you
this kind of an opportunity?

No, he did not.

You will never see
this amount of money

for as long as you're
with Jack Spade and the DWL,

no matter how hard you grind,

no matter how much
you deserve it.

But you work for me,
you will be set for life.

Work for me,
and you have security

for you and your loved ones.

Or are you gonna throw away

the biggest opportunity
of your life

for some silly and blind
devotion to Jack Spade?

Sign! Sign! Sign!

Hey, Gully!

- Boo!
- Shut up!

You get the hell away from her!

All right.
Let's hear him.

Let's hear him out.

Maybe you're hard of hearing,

but you cannot buy
Crystal Tyler!

She's no sellout, like you!

Boo!

Well, well, well, Jack.

It's, uh, not really a surprise,

you showing up here tonight.

I see how you're looking
at Rooster,

like the one who got away,
and so you're here, now,

beg Crystal to not leave too.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Crystal Tyler chooses
her own words!

I'm not here to plead
with her to stay.

I'm here to fight by her side!

She's always had my back,
and I will always have hers!

Crystal's not here
to have your back.

She's here to stab you in it!

Oh!

Whoo!

Yeah!

Nice writing, Jack.

Whoo!

Yes!

Bye-bye, Jack.

Looks like we got a deal!

Whoo! Dystopia!

Whoo!

Whoo-hoo!

Looks like Jack's waking up
a bit!

Get him!

Wherever you are, Jack Spade,
this isn't over!

Dystopia for life!

Yeah!

Yessir!

Pop on that zipline
was fucking incredible!

Aw, dude, you wrote
the shit out of that.

- Crystal.
- Yeah.

Crystal. Jesus.

Hey, how long do you think
it'll take

for the arena to clear?

Hopefully soon. I gotta piss.

Just go here. I'll move.

What?

Yeah! Whoo!

Yeah!

Excuse me.

Somebody told me that you work
with Crystal Tyler

and the Spade brothers.

I do.

I'm Brooks Rizzo.

I would love to know
more about them.

Like what?

Everything.