INT. PADDY'S PUB — CONTINUOUS
(The FRONT DOOR RATTLES again. A heavy, patient KNOCK. The kind of knock that has done crimes in nicer rooms.)
DENNIS(straightening his shirt, manager mode snapping on)
Okay. Great. Whoever it is— remember: we are a business. We are not a crack-den.
FRANK(snatching the duffel off the bar, panicking)
We are a crack-boutique, Dennis. There's a difference.
DEE(front camera up, whispering)
This is so good. This is so— I'm gonna get killed on livestream.
MAC(rolling his shoulders like he's about to fight God)
Let 'em in. I want to see the enemy.
CHARLIE(clutching a bar rag like it's holy cloth)
I think it's a curse knock. Curses knock different.
(The door swings open. FOUR TRACKSUIT GUYS step in, glossy and expressionless. "YAKUZA-ADJACENT," but in the way a Philly guy is "Italian-Adjacent" because he owns one gold chain.)
TRACKSUIT #1(pointing immediately)
Where's the bag.
DENNIS(bright, customer-service smile)
Hi! Welcome to Paddy's Pub. We don't do "bags." We do transactions. Can I ask what this is regarding?
TRACKSUIT #2(dead stare)
Our bag.
FRANK(already backing up, clutching the duffel behind his back like a toddler with a stolen cookie)
What bag? There's no bag. This is— this is a laundry situation.
TRACKSUIT #3(steps closer, sniffing the air)
Smells like it's here.
DEE(tilting her phone, whispering to camera)
They smell the crime. They smell—
DENNIS(snaps, low)
Stop narrating the felony.
MAC(stepping forward, puffed up)
Alright—listen. If you're here to intimidate us, it's not gonna work. I've fought bigger men than you.
TRACKSUIT #4(glances at Mac)
…Okay.
MAC(offended he isn't being respected)
No— not "okay." You should be scared. I'm a weapon.
CHARLIE(soft, reverent)
Dennis… they're dressed like demons.
DENNIS(to Charlie, hissing)
They're dressed like Adidas, you idiot.
TRACKSUIT #1(leaning in, flat)
Your street priest took our product.
FRANK(eyes widening, whispering)
Street priest— that's Cricket.
DEE(smirking)
Of course it is.
DENNIS(snapping into "complaint resolution")
Okay. Great. So we have a— we have a third-party vendor issue. Fantastic. I'd love to help you, but Cricket is not on staff. He's more of a… feral subcontractor.
TRACKSUIT #2(tight)
People are going crazy.
(A SCREAM outside. Then another. Something METALLIC gets hit like it owes money.)
TRACKSUIT #3(confused, a real crack in his composure)
They're biting things. Like possessed.
MAC(eyes lighting up)
Possessed. Great. Now we're talking.
CHARLIE(crossing himself)
I knew it. I knew it was cursed. The cart was cursed.
DENNIS(annoyed)
Stop saying "cursed!" That's not a real category. That's just "high but dramatic."
TRACKSUIT #1(grim)
This shipment was… weird. Rumors. Japan stuff.
FRANK(freezes, voice small)
Japan stuff.
DENNIS(tilting his head, controlling the room)
Okay. So you're telling me… this is a foreign customer service situation.
TRACKSUIT #2(pulls out phone, deadly calm)
We're calling Japan.
DEE(instantly perks up)
Japan?! Like— Japan Japan?
MAC(to Dennis, excited whisper)
They're calling an exorcist.
DENNIS(smug, threatened anyway)
They're calling their manager.
FRANK(starting to sweat through his shirt)
They're calling… my past.
EXT. STREET OUTSIDE PADDY'S — CONTINUOUS
(Chaos. A GUY in basketball shorts is BITING a PARKING METER like it's a corn cob. Two WOMEN are SCREAMING at a mailbox. Someone is doing a full-body tackle on a trash can.)
TRACKSUIT #2(on the phone, rapid, irritated)
Yeah. Yeah, it's Philly. It's always like this, but worse.
…No, I don't know. They're acting cursed.
…Yes, the product. The priest rat stole it.
…Send him.
(Dennis pushes past to the window, furious at not being in charge of the narrative.)
DENNIS(shouting out)
HEY! HEY!
SIR! STOP BITING PUBLIC PROPERTY!
That's not what it's for!
(The guy BITES harder. Dennis recoils like he's been personally insulted.)
DENNIS(to himself, horrified)
He's committing.
MAC(stepping outside, squaring up like a hero)
BACK, FOUL SPIRIT!
(The guy turns—foam at his mouth—then CHARGES Mac.)
MAC(immediate panic, retreating)
OKAY—OKAY—THAT'S A STRONG SPIRIT!
(Mac stumbles back inside as the tracksuits watch with pure, quiet disappointment.)
INT. PADDY'S PUB — MOMENTS LATER
(Everyone's back inside. The tracksuits are waiting. Dennis is vibrating with jealousy at the concept of an outside authority arriving.)
DEE(adjusting hair, practicing a smile)
Okay. So. Whoever they sent? I'm gonna be cool. I'm gonna be like… effortlessly charming.
DENNIS(cold)
You're going to do nothing. You're going to sit there and not ruin the room.
DEE(smiling sweetly)
Dennis, I ruin rooms professionally.
CHARLIE(arranging coasters like a ritual circle)
When the Japan guy gets here, we should offer him a beer. That's hospitality. Hospitality is like… a blessing.
FRANK(whispering, frantic)
We shouldn't offer him anything! We should give him the bag and apologize and say we're dead now!
DENNIS(tight)
Frank— stop being guilty. You're making it real.
(The FRONT DOOR OPENS again—this time with zero menace. Just… casual.)
(GOJO steps in like he's on vacation. Hands in pockets. Smile. Sunglasses. Completely wrong for the room.)
DEE(immediately, too bright)
Hi!
DENNIS(instant hostility, stepping forward)
Who are you.
CHARLIE(awed, pointing like he's seen an angel at Wawa)
That guy's got… main character air.
MAC(squinting, dismissive)
He's not even big.
(FRANK's face changes into pure recognition-fear that makes no sense. He DROPS TO HIS KNEES like the floor is hot.)
FRANK(urgent, pleading)
NO NO NO—HEY—LISTEN—
I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU HEARD—
I CAN GET YOU MONEY.
I CAN GET YOU A KIDNEY.
DEE(turning, baffled)
Frank, what is happening?
FRANK(whispering, terrified)
This is a Yakuza guy. This is—this is Japan debt.
GOJO(pleasant, looking around like he's sightseeing)
Is this… an Irish bar?
DENNIS(stepping closer like he's about to complain about steak)
Okay. Great. Perfect.
You're in charge?
GOJO(remembering to be polite, nods once)
Sure.
DENNIS(relieved, immediately smug)
Fantastic.
I need to speak to your manager.
(Beat.)
GOJO(smiling wider, delighted by the audacity)
I can do that.
SMASH TO BLACK.