ROGUES | S01E18: Hold Up (Patreon)

ROGUES | S01E18: Hold Up

EXT. METROPOLIS. NIGHT.

JON: Wouldn’t it be easier to drive straight to Gotham, instead of making all these stops?

EDWARD: Sure, if you’re boring. But I haven’t been to Metropolis in ages - what about you?

JON: Yeah, I guess it’s been awhile.

EDWARD: It’s practically a vacation. Next to which, not stopping implies sleeping in the car, and that’s a contradiction in terms.

JON: It’s not so bad, when you have to. ... But the hotel has a mini-bar, right?

EDWARD: Bet your ass; fully stocked. I checked before we left. I’ll need it to make sure I fall asleep before you do.

JON: I’ll take the moonshine, you can have the Mother’s Ruin.

EDWARD: Suits me; I should be able to get a couple of half-decent martinis out of it.

JON: So straight gin, then.

EDWARD: Less of a dry martini and more of a drought.

JON: Your little detour sure piled on the miles.

EDWARD: We’ll be back in Gotham tomorrow. Are you in come kind of hurry?

JON: Can’t say there’s much for me to go back to.

FOOTSTEPS.

EDWARD: Ooh! Look.

JON: Hmm?

EDWARD: This bar is doing a trivia night.

JON: And?

EDWARD: So we should do it.

JON: Why?

EDWARD: (sighs) Must I say it?

JON: Gonna say it anyway.

EDWARD: You’re somewhat intelligent.

JON grunts.

EDWARD: I’m a noted genius. We could school these people. Sweep the floor with them. Experience the high of winning. And maybe even get a little trophy.

JON: You and your trophies. Like to be a giant t-shirt, place like this.

EDWARD: Then I’ll give it to Waylon. Would you be so cold as to deny him?

JON: Had to drag Waylon into it, didn’t you?

EDWARD: Come on, it’ll be fun.

JON: (sighs) Fine.

INT. METROPOLIS BAR. NIGHT.

JON: Do I at least get a drink out of this?

EDWARD: Hmm? Oh, how rude of me. Here - get yourself something nice.

JON: Never say that again. You want somethin’?

EDWARD: Orange juice. Don’t want to impede the precious grey cells.

JON: God forbid. (muttering) Not like ya haven’t been socked in the head a hundred times already...

EDWARD: This calls for the green fountain pen. Hm. Team name... nothing too obvious. Heh. Yes.

JON: Here.

EDWARD: Did you at least get a decent Scotch instead of your usual shot of ethylene glycol?

JON: Didn’t have any so I had to use up all your money instead.

EDWARD: Happy to hear it.

ANNOUNCER: Alright, welcome to Trivia Night, everyone! We have several rounds and a prize for each - the one condition is that no team can win more than one round.

JOKING BOOS.

EDWARD: One round and we cut out?

JON: Suits me.

ANNOUNCER: Alright, Question 1. What colourless, odourless gas has the chemical formula C2H6?

EDWARD: Well?

JON: Ethane.

EDWARD: I knew you’d be useful someday.

ANNOUNCER: Question 2: in Greek mythology, how many Graces were there?

EDWARD: Three.

JON: What about Disgraces?

EDWARD: I think they prefer to be called the Sirens.

JON: (snorts into his drink) Yeh’d get a beatin’ for that.

EDWARD: Pff, they love me. ... Don’t tell them, though.

JON: No promises.

ANNOUNCER: Question 3: The Pyrenees separates which two European countries?

JON: You know that?

EDWARD: Pff. Of course. France and Spain.

ANNOUNCER: Question 4: Who invented the typewriter?

BOTH: Henry Mill.

JON: Still use mine.

EDWARD: A classic - though ultimately traceable.

JON: Hm. Good point. I’ll have to send you thing with the email, instead.

EDWARD: There’s no article, you boob; it’s just email. Fucking Christ, you’re embarrassing.

JON: That’s what I said. The email.

EDWARD: (snarls)

JON: (laughs) There it is - twitch twitch.

ANNOUNCER: Question 5: Which garden is considered among the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World?

JON: Where’s Isley when you need her?

EDWARD: It’s the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Pamela’s not necessary.

JON: Tell me how you really feel.

EDWARD: Careful. She’ll turn us into decorative shrubbery and prune off the protruding branches.

JON: (snickers)

ANNOUNCER: Question 6: What is the oldest surviving printed book in the world?

JON: The Diamond Sutra.

EDWARD: Is that a sex thing?

JON: No, no it is not.

EDWARD: Then how old is it?

JON: Dated at 868 AD.

EDWARD: How the hell do you know that?

JON: I... enjoy books.

EDWARD: You make bibliophilia seem like a fetish.

JON: How d’you know it isn’t? 

EDWARD: (chuckling) Just don’t snap the book shut.

JON: (laughs)

ANNOUNCER: Question 7: What is a Lafite-Rothschild?

EDWARD: Easy money.

JON: It’s what - your damn writin’ is worse than mine, and I’m the doctor.

EDWARD: Come on, you never learned to read upside down?

JON: What’s the point of that?

EDWARD: So I can see how well I’ve done in getting myself misdiagnosed.

JON: Eh, I know what I am. So what is it?

EDWARD: A wine. Lucky for you, I have expensive drinking taste. Speaking of - this is a screwdriver, not orange juice.

JON: Oh, you taste it?

EDWARD: Just barely. It’s Icelandic vodka.

JON: Dang. That’s some palate you got there.

EDWARD: Said the smoker with no taste buds.

JON: Never did me any harm.

EDWARD: I’ve seen you eat Styrofoam.

JON: Only way I could get the coffee out of the cup.

EDWARD: (snickers) Enlighten me to your reasoning. Besides general incorrigibility, why is there liquor in my juice?

JON: Seein’ if you could still sweep the floor with a couple brain cells tied behind your back.

EDWARD: Alright then. (downs the drink, slams it) Challenge accepted.

JON: Dance, monkey, dance.

ANNOUNCER: Sorry for the delay there, folks. Question 8: Which popular British television show about old collectables began in 1979 and is still running to this day?

EDWARD: (laughing) Oh, I know this. Antiques Roadshow.

JON: You watch that?

EDWARD: Like I have time to watch television. Harvey loves it.

JON: You can’t tell me he told you that.

EDWARD: Hah, he wouldn’t tell me what he had for lunch - he thinks we don’t know that he schedules the same meeting at the same time every week. He locks himself in his office to watch it.

JON: (snickers) Must think it doesn’t fit with that slick image he’s cultivatin’.

EDWARD: Funny thing is - I’ve never seen him flip for it. They agree on it.

JON and EDWARD laugh.

ANNOUNCER: Question 9: How many pints of blood are there in the human body?

JON: Nine.

EDWARD: Is that theoretical knowledge backed up by empirical evidence? Perhaps with a siphon hose?

JON: It could be more like nine and a half ‘cause you can really squeeze the brain out like a sponge if you try -

EDWARD: Alright, Frankenstein, enough. Sweet mercy, I’m just putting down nine.

JON: (evil laugh)

ANNOUNCER: Final question, number 10: What is the seventh planet from the sun?

JON: (snorts)

EDWARD: (trying not to laugh) What are you, twelve?

JON: Write it down then, Mr. Mature.

EDWARD: I can’t. (laughs) My hands are shaking.

JON: Gimme that damn pen. There. Ur-anus.

EDWARD: You’re supposed to write the answer, not sign your name.

JON: (snickers) Fuck off.

ANNOUNCER: Alright, now we’ll collect up the answer sheets and find ourselves a winner.

JON: What d’you reckon our chances are?

EDWARD: I’d be a titch more confident if someone hadn‘t doped me, but I think we’re fine.

JON: Oh for God’s sake, you make it sound like I slipped you a mickey.

EDWARD: A chemical compound intended to alter or impair one’s mental state? I’d say that was as good as.

JON: Shook it off though, didn’t you?

EDWARD: To the untrained ear, one could take that as a compliment.

JON: But...?

EDWARD: A compliment from you is basically water from a stone. Would you rather see me fail?

JON: Bias skews the results: I keep an open mind on how things play out.

EDWARD: Ah, there’s the true essence of chaos - swing the bat and see what happens.

JON: ‘S Right.

EDWARD: (smirking) I can see why Harley got you and the Joker confused.

JON: That’s just fuckin’ rude - you take that back.

EDWARD: (laughs)

ANNOUNCER: Alright, with a perfect 10 outta ten, uhh... Riddle Me Grits!

EDWARD: Damn I’m good. (laughs) Right here.

JON: The hell kinda name is that?

EDWARD: I couldn’t put anything honest, could I? We’d have been arrested.

JON: Yeah, that’d put a crimp on the evening.

ANNOUNCER: What size d’you want, man?

EDWARD: Ohh, let’s see... he’d be about a - 3XL. One of those.

ANNOUNCER: Here you go!

EDWARD: Much obliged.

JON: Well, wouldja look at that. A big ol’ t-shirt.

EDWARD: It says ‘Perfect 10’ on it! Waylon will love this. Right. We going?

JON: Yeah, I wanna hit that minibar.

EDWARD: Might as well get my money’s worth. Think you can refrain from giving me nightmares, this time?

JON: If you don’t annoy me, sure.

EDWARD: Well, that’s me doomed.

JON: Damn right.

EXT. METROPOLIS. NIGHT.

EDWARD: Quiet, tonight.

JON: Mm. People must be stayin’ indoors.

EDWARD: No Boy Scout to come to their rescue, should they come a cropper; though I hear tell the Bat has been around.

JON: Must be run off his big black boots.

RUNNING FOOTSTEPS APPROACH.

EDWARD: Late night jogger?

JON: Doubt it.

EDWARD: Guess our night is about to get more interesting.

JON: Looks like.

CRIMINAL: You two! Give me your money! This is a robbery!

EDWARD: Oh. Help. Two innocent citizens partaking in an evening stroll, beset by misadventure. Where’s a be-tighted superhero when you need one?

JON: Banned. Remember?

EDWARD: That was rhetorical. Did you notice that? That was totally rhetorical.

JON: How was I s’posed to know?

CRIMINAL: Hey!

BOTH: Hmm?

CRIMINAL: Hand over your wallet, unless you wanna die.

EDWARD: I’d have preferred stand and deliver.

JON: Your money or your life, maybe?

EDWARD: Something with style. (claps hands) Alright, let’s cut to the chase.

CRIMINAL: What?

EDWARD: How much for you to sod off?

CRIMINAL: You think is some kinda game? (laughs) Fuckin’ freaks.

JON: Huh.

EDWARD: I’d say it’s a game, now. How about it, big guy - you wanna play catch with the rookie?

JON: Oh, you know I do.

EDWARD: Alright, kid - let’s play.

CRIMINAL: Play?

EDWARD: You’re about to get our undivided attention. You ready?

CRIMINAL: I’d say this gun was ready.

EDWARD: Oh, how dull. And I notice he didn’t demand your wallet. Do you even have one?

JON: Imagine I must have, somewhere. People just give me stuff.

CRIMINAL: Hey! What happened to undivided attention?

EDWARD: (chuckles) Oh, dear. How about you answer my original question, first.

CRIMINAL: Well... how much you got?

EDWARD: Do you know, I’ve lost track. Permit me a moment to find out. Hold the shirt, won’t you?

JON: Yup.

EDWARD: Let’s see. Driver’s license, other driver’s license, other other driver’s license...

JON: Three of them, and you still can’t drive worth a damn.

EDWARD: Now Jon, no one likes a bitch.

JON: You oughta know.

EDWARD: (snickers) You’re becoming more human by the day. Oh wait, this is my card wallet. Ruffian, hold my coat.

CRIMINAL: What - I don’t - fine. Whatever.

EDWARD: Ah, here it is. I’ll take that back, now.

CRIMINAL: Right, now - hey! What’d you do?

EDWARD: Whipped that gun out of your hand, obviously; do try to keep up.

JON: Not bad.

EDWARD: Worthy of Selena and you know it.

JON: Selena... right, the Cat Lady.

EDWARD: (chuckles) Oh, I’ll remember that one. Here, you like this type.

JON: Huh. .38 Special. Well-used. Maintained. Steal this from a cop?

CRIMINAL: N-no.

EDWARD: Well that’s a yes if ever I’ve heard one. But how did you get ahold of a cop gun?

JON: Hard to picture you taking it from someone’s cold, dead hands.

CRIMINAL: Hey, I need that back.

EDWARD: Uh-uh.

JON: Step back, son.

EDWARD: He needs it back. You know what that means.

JON: You stole this from your old man.

CRIMINAL: Who told you that?

EDWARD: You did. Isn’t. That. Precious.

JON: Your law-breakin’ isn’t helpin’ your latent daddy issues. Should get yourself a good shrink.

EDWARD: I recommend carving out a niche, myself.

CRIMINAL: Then what - what happens now?

EDWARD: You showed me yours. It seems only polite that I show you mine.

CRIMINAL: What -

EDWARD: (click) 1866 Derringer. Sexy thing, isn’t she?

CRIMINAL: Y-yes. Very.

EDWARD: As for you - not so much. Bad mannered, disrespectful, clumsy -

JON: Bringin’ the occupation into disrepute.

EDWARD: I should kill you simply for the disrespect. That just rubs me the wrong way.

CRIMINAL: Please don’t.

EDWARD: Just one shot would do it. Right between the eyes. You wouldn’t feel a thing; practically an act of sweet charity, for one so wretched as yourself.

JON: You’re breakin’ my heart.

EDWARD: And then, when Daddy comes to see you laid out on the slab and stares right through the hole in your head to the other side - what do you think will go though his head?

JON: Sadness? Disappointment, maybe?

EDWARD: Generous. I’m thinking relief.

JON: Finally, he’s thinkin’, I’m free.

EDWARD: No more cover-ups, no more shame, no more disgrace on the family name.

JON: He’ll look like he’s sad but inside, he’ll be so happy. ‘Cos you can’t fuck up when you’re dead.

EDWARD: Daddy’s little boy could only screw up the courage to be bad when the Big Blue Boy Scout left, but fate intervened when he got two people who, between them, have filled Gotham Harbour with the stupid, the careless... and the unlucky.

JON: Or in your case - all three.

CRIMINAL: Gotham?

EDWARD: Ooh, there goes all the colour in his face.

JON: Must’ve started thinkin’.

CRIMINAL: So you’re from Gotham. So what?

JON: So notice how we’re, uh... how would you put it, Ed?

EDWARD: Not young, not dead, and not afraid of some quivering virgin with a stolen hand cannon I wouldn’t pay to shine my shoes?

JON: That’s it.

CRIMINAL: Shit. I guess running’s out of the question?

EDWARD: Do you want your COD to be a shot in the back? Really?

JON: Have some pride.

EDWARD: Indeed. Now, what are we to do with you?

JON: I prescribe a course of prolonged treatment.

EDWARD: Excellent. Let’s warm up by having you strip to the last stitch.

CRIMINAL: What? Why?

EDWARD: He asked, of the man with the gun.

JON: Reckon if you aim for brain, you’ll miss.

EDWARD: Tell you what: you say ‘pull’, and I’ll make his head the launcher and you can hit the clay pigeon that flies out.

JON: Good one.

CRIMINAL: Wait - wait!

EDWARD: Aww, you don’t want to play any more? Too late.

CRIMINAL: But - but - my clothes...

JON: Scared?

CRIMINAL: N-no. I mean - (cough) No. No.

JON: (aside) Reckon the kid’s shy.

EDWARD: (laughs) Best get over the stage fright, sunshine; that’s a weakness.

CRIMINAL: What d’you mean?

EDWARD: There’s no modesty in the big house.

CRIMINAL: Then I just won’t get caught.

PAUSE. EDWARD and JON laugh.

EDWARD: Were we ever that stupid?

JON: Maybe ‘til we first got our asses handed to us.

EDWARD: You never forget the first one.

JON: Y’know, Supes is a decent guy.

EDWARD: You really should have waited for him.

JON: He’d have been nice about it.

EDWARD: Gentle, even.

JON: But you got us.

EDWARD: And we’re under no obligation to deliver you to Daddy in one piece.

JON: Ain’t you lucky.

EDWARD: Think about your answer.

CRIMINAL: (pause) Yes.

EDWARD: Good kid.

JON: Now see, if ya don’t wanna get caught, then rehabilitation is your only hope. 

CRIMINAL: Like... going straight?

PAUSE.

JON: I can feel you grinnin’. I don’t even have to look.

EDWARD: I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.

JON: You suck at playin’ dumb.

EDWARD: There’s a compliment! I’ll take it.

JON: As I was sayin’. Just so happens I can help ya with the rehab.

CRIMINAL: Uh - how would you do that?

JON: First thing’s first. My learned friend here told ya to strip - and ya will.

CRIMINAL: But you were joking. Right?

EDWARD: No, that’s the other guy.

EDWARD shoots the shoulder; JON laughs.

CRIMINAL: You shot me!

EDWARD: Oh, did I? Good heavens, what HAVE I done.

CRIMINAL: Why?

EDWARD: I got bored. 

CRIMINAL: (pain)

JON: Aww, poor baby.

EDWARD: You’re fortunate it was one - I could have riddled you.

JON: (snorts) That’s godawful.

EDWARD: You love it. Now: stand and deliver.

CRIMINAL: (pain) Okay, okay. How far?

EDWARD: Like I said. All the way, LBJ.

CRIMINAL: (pain) Aw, shit.

JON: Take your time - that woulda hurt. 

CRIMINAL: Of course it fuckin’ hurts!

JON: Does it hurt if I (pokes) do that?

CRIMINAL: (pain)

EDWARD: (chuckles) Speed it up, kid - you really don’t want us to lose interest.

CRIMINAL disrobes.

JON: There ya go.

EDWARD: Isn’t that better?

JON: The view sure ain’t.

EDWARD: Tell me about it.

CRIMINAL: (shivering) What now?

JON: Close your eyes.

CRIMINAL: Do I have to?

EDWARD: Only if you want to those eyes in your head.

CRIMINAL: Oh, God.

JON: God don’t give a shit. Ed -

EDWARD: I know, I know. Shut up and watch.

JON: Damn right. (spritz)

CRIMINAL: (coughs) What -

JON: (lulling) Hush now. Pupil dilation. Shortness of breath. We can begin. Now, you’ll forgive me my frontier psychology, but you stole a gun... from your father... That’s not gonna bode well. What was it? Too many rules around the house? You didn’t wanna be a badge like your old man? But now they’re gonna put you away. Hell, they may even give you the chair.

CRIMINAL: No.

JON: Yeah. They’re gonna kill you for this, and the last thing you’re gonna see is the look of shame in your daddy’s eyes as they flip the switch. You’re gonna die, and you disappointed... everyone. 

CRIMINAL: Oh God. Oh my God. He’s going to find out. He’ll find out and they’ll get me.

JON: You should run.

CRIMINAL: Yes. Yes. Run. Run away. Far away.

Sound of running feet as he disappears.

EDWARD: (slow clap) Bravo.

JON: Always a pleasure.

EDWARD: That was... rather impressive.

JON: You sound like you actually mean that.

EDWARD: I hate to say it, but I do.

JON: ... Thanks. We goin’?

EDWARD: Just a sec - there’s one thing I have to do first. (scraping)

JON: The hell are you doin’?

EDWARD: Retrieving my bullet, duh.

JON: Why d’you care?

EDWARD: I’m not about to get nailed to the wall over a dumb kid like that one.

JON: Fair enough.

EDWARD: Got it. Shall we?

JON: Lead on.

Footsteps resume.

JON: Y’know, this ain’t a bad weapon. Not the first time I’ve kept a cop’s gun.

EDWARD: Was it voluntarily surrendered?

JON: Heh, more or less. Nice trick with the strip, too.

EDWARD: I’ll give tribute to the Disgraces for that party trick.

JON: Little devils.

EDWARD: Now here’s a thought - if Blue Boy were around, would he have come to save us, or him?

JON: That’s one of them moral quandaries, ain’t it?

EDWARD: Let’s find out. (calling) What do you say, Supes? (pause) He’s not picking up. Should I shout louder?

JON: He can hear you, but I doubt he’ll answer.

EDWARD: Screening his calls, because he’s a good boy.

JON: That ban won’t be forever, y’know; you’re just askin’ for trouble.

EDWARD: How about a little test, then? Riddle me this, goody two-shoes: At zero degrees you’ll bake, at ninety degrees you’ll shake. (pause) Nothing. That makes him deaf, or stupid.

JON: (chuckles) Jackass.

EDWARD: Still, I was right about one thing: I told you it’d be fun.

JON: Ya didn’t know that was gonna happen.

EDWARD: But it was hilarious. Just like old times - back when you were fun.

JON: Fun? You sure it was me?

EDWARD: True, it may have been your friend.

JON: Next you’ll be tellin’ me you prefer to have him around instead.

EDWARD: Not so much - I’ve fallen out of favour, of late.

JON: Huh. I wonder why.

EDWARD: Beats me. Main difference to the old days is that you use the aerosol now instead of syringes. Evolution, I suppose.

JON: Common damn sense. Ever gotten an itch on your balls and forgotten you had syringes for hands?

EDWARD: Yeesh - I bet that carved up your pumpkins.

JON: Add the straw and burlap on top o’ that? Looked like I got clawed up by a pack of randy tom cats.

EDWARD: Then you could say you’ve actually been mobbed by pus-

JON: Stop right there. You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.

EDWARD: Ohh, I sense a story...

JON: If you’re lucky, that’ll be a bedtime story for later.

EDWARD: Can I tempt you with... packets of peanuts?

JON: Bump that to my choice of room service and I’ll think about it.

EDWARD: You got yourself a deal, Mister.