PARIS LOVE, NATHALIA & TYLER LYNN Star IN THE CIRCUIT ( A Custom Production)

PARIS LOVE, NATHALIA & TYLER LYNN Star IN THE CIRCUIT ( A Custom Production)

A sword battle to the end!

EXT. POOLSIDE ARENA - LATE AFTERNOON

Golden Florida sun slicks across chrome and water. The arena of the day is located by a poolside:

AERIAL WHOOSH a camera swings wide, then cuts to two figures–ASTRID and FREYA–moving in lockstep walk into frame. Each wears matching red attire, and a katana.

ASTRID

(confident grin)

I’m Astrid.

(turning to Freya)

FREYA

… I’m Freya…

ASTRID & FREYA

(together in unison)

… and together, we’re team Valkyrie!

They execute a practiced pose: synchronized, breath-regulated motion that ends with the katanas crossed over their chests.

ASTRID chuckles, fake confidence solid as glass.

ASTRID

(confident, cocky)

I know many of you watching from your moms’ basements think we don’t stand a chance against our opponent… Well, we’re here to tell you you’re wrong!

ASTRID swings her sword in a highly rehearsed move.

FREYA

(slightly nervous)

Yeah… I know it’s our first fight. But we’ve been training with the best! Astrid and I have been making most of our Equinox membership for the past six months… preparing for this moment.

FREYA tries to do the same as ASTRID interjects.

ASTRID

(scoffing)

Besides… Paris is a dinosaur! It’s about time we next generation of fighters show the world how it’s done!

(katana pointing at the camera)

Paris if you’re watching. I say bring it the fuck on–

The monologue is suddenly interrupted with another figure entering the arena.

FREYA

(under her breath to Astrid)

–speak of the devil.

In the frame, PARIS enters the fray, strutting with an aura of non-flashy confidence. The Valkyries look on, glancing with a mix of disdain and trepidation; they try their best to hide their nerves.

PARIS

(chuckling)

You bimbos done talking to the simps on camera? I’ve skipped lunch today, and I’m starving.

ASTRID

(with disdain)

Fuck you, bitch. I can’t wait to take you down–

FREYA

(nudging Astrid)

Hey! It’s two versus one, remember?

ASTRID

–for us to take you down! Besides you’re outnumbered today, Paris. It’s time to meet your end here!

PARIS laughs hysterically.

PARIS

(chuckling)

Man… it’s almost like I’m back in highschool getting bullied by some white bitches down the hall…

(readying her weapon)

…time to get this over and done with.

FREYA swallows hard, before the Valkyries too draw their swords. They face off, eyes locked, weapons drawn, in concentration as a count down begins.

COUNTDOWN TIMER: 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… FIGHT!

ASTRID circles left, FREYA mirrors right. Their movements practiced and polished. PARIS waits, watching their feet.

FREYA strikes first–a clean diagonal slash. PARIS leans back, no wasted motion as the blade slices air.

ASTRID then follows-up–vertical, faster–and again PARIS shifts, moving just enough to avoid it.

ASTRID

We got her moving, and she’s on the defensive!

FREYA

Don’t let up! Let’s keep the pressure.

PARIS exhales slowly, before letting out a chuckle in a “come and bring it” demeanor.

The fight picks up pace. With FREYA and ASTRID attacking from alternating sides–steel flashing in the sunlight. PARIS simply continues her defensive posture, slowly retreating closer to the edge of the pool.

ASTRID

See? Two is better than one. She can’t keep up!

FREYA, catching her energy, steps closer, faster. She manages a light graze–her blade clipping PARIS’s sleeve.

ASTRID

(chuckling)

First blood!

PARIS doesn’t react much–just glances at the cut–before flexing her hand and rolling her wrist. She’d been merely analyzing their moves, now it was time to fight back.

ASTRID steps closer, emboldened. She swings again, more wild this time–confidence sliding towards carelessness. FREYA joints in, two blades crossing in unison.

PARIS deflects their strikes, before slipping between them, shoulder checking ASTRID as she passes.

ASTRID stumbles, almost losing her footing on the pool’s edge.

PARIS

So ladies, let’s get this party started…

(bringing up her blade)

… shall we?

The Valkyries glance at each other, with a hint of uncertainty of what’s about to happen next. ASTRID tries to rally.

ASTRID

It’s a trick. We’ve got her boxed! Press her!

ASTRID steps forward, emboldened. PARIS readies her blade to meet her. For a heartbeat they freeze–motion, breath, light.

Then ASTRID attacks–PARIS’s blade meets hers mid-swing, redirecting the force down, dragging her balance forward.

ASTRID tumbles forward, blade loose from her hands. She tries to regain her footing–in a humiliating move, PARIS leans forward and slaps her.

PARIS

Bitch. I can read your every move.

ASTRID looks at her, stunned, for the first time in the match.

FREYA sensing an opportunity to strike, lunges at PARIS from behind.

PARIS, true to her word, senses her and moves in to deflect, in a slick 180-move. In pure motion, her blade clashes with FREYA’s in a series of quick and powerful attacks.

FREYA parries, in a mix of panic and desperation, out of pure survival.

Within seconds however, she has been boxed against the edge of the pool, exhausted.

Like a coup de grace, PARIS kicks FREYA’s blade from her hands. Before she could even react, PARIS spins her around, and thrusts a blade right through her lower abdomen.

C.S. FREYA as she looks at the blade sticking through her in disbelief. PARIS wraps her arms around her, before whispering into her ear.

PARIS

This is how you finish off someone from behind…

(pulling out her blade)

FREYA teeters for an eternal second, weight tipping towards the pool. The water catches her reflection, shock still painted across her face. Then…

FREYA

(screaming, top of her lungs)

AHHHHHHHHH…

… PARIS pushes her over. Splash. Ripples swallow her screams–before an eerie silence.

PARIS

… bitch.

C.S. FREYA’s motionless body, face down. DEAD.

ASTRID stands alone, breathing hard, eyes wide. PARIS turns around to meet her. Heat waves shimmer between them.

PARIS

(sarcastic)

And then there were two…

ASTRID screams–raw and wordless–and charges. All form gone. All grace forgotten. Each swing heavy, strikes hammering air and tile.

PARIS, experienced fighter as she is, keeps a level-head, dodging and parrying the attacks gracefully.

The clang of steel fills the arena.

ASTRID’s hair sticks to her face, her chest heaves. Her moves now becoming too heavy, and too slow.

She swings again–misses.

Again–hits the ground, blade scraping the tile.

Again–and nearly loses grip.

PARIS’s expression doesn’t change; she moves with the rhythm of someone fixing a mistake rather than fighting an enemy.

ASTRID stumbles towards the edge of the pool. The water ripples–calm and unbothered by her friend’s demise in it. She glances down at FREYA’s motionless body. Her breath catches.

ASTRID

(hoarse)

You think this is over You’re—

(swallows)

ASTRID clenches her sword, shaking, before turning around.

ASTRID

–you’re going to–

She never finishes. A sharp sound cuts through her words. Her eyes widen, her breath stolen mid-sentence. The sword slips from her hands.

PARIS leans in, looks her right in the eyes and whispers.

PARIS

As I was saying… I can read your every move.

PARIS kicks ASTRID off her blade. Another splash interrupts the stillness, as ASTRID folds into the pool.

C.S. of FREYA and ASTRID, lifeless in the pool. DEAD. FADE OUT.

FADE IN

PARIS STANDING VICTORIOUS: with a confident smile signaling a job well done. She slows her breathing as her adrenaline levels lower.

PARIS

(glancing at her watch)

Well… that took longer than I expected. But it’s win number twenty-eight for me, and a flawless victory to start the season… I can live with that.

PARIS glances to her right. The producers have placed the fallen Valkyries in a humiliating, macabre, six-nine position–with FREYA face down on top, ASTRID face up below, mouth almost pressed against her butt–their expressions frozen in their final moments

PARIS

Am I right ladies?

PARIS grabs FREYA by her hair revealing her face for a few moments. She doesn’t respond. PARIS then releases. Her head ragdolls face first onto the grass with a thud.

PARIS

(chuckling, sarcastic)

Oh that’s right. You bitches can’t live with that because you both are fucking dead.

PARIS slaps FREYA in the butt as a sound effect to the punchline of her joke, before walking away, shaking her head.

She rests on a chaise, celebratory drink in hand.

PARIS

Now for a nice Piña Colada!

C.S. On the Valkyries: their soaked outfits glistening in the sun. Linger across their defeated, humiliating pose across multiple angles.

FADE TO BLACK.

FILE SIZE: 697 Mb

RUN TIME: 14.49

HD QUALITY: 1920 X 1080