Scene: In the dank basement of a derelict building, illuminated by a single, flickering fluorescent light, a makeshift cage constructed from rusty chain-link fence and salvaged scaffolding stands at the center. The audience—a shadowy crowd of XO regulars and “legal underworld” denizens of pumos and quotemos—circles the cage, their faces a mix of morbid curiosity and dark anticipation.

In a corner, elevated, sits Boom, wheelchair-bound, bald, and visibly diapered, yet exuding a fierce charisma as he raises his flabby arms to silence the crowd. His deranged eyes gleam with conspiratorial excitement as he prepares to announce the spectacle, his voice a strange blend of cryptic reverence and sardonic thrill.

Boom (announcing to the crowd):

"Tonight, XO poa, we bear witne$$ to the ultimate reckoning. This isn’t some soft LSAT 180 – this is the LAW in its rawest FORM. Clause 9.2 vs. SACRED integrity, the Mahchine’s chosen against the true believers! On one side, Wesley Johnson—a joke of his former self, the once powerful Partner-in-Charge of the New York Office, only to lose the top-dog position to a FEMALE in 2020.

And, well, Chuck: a man who’s read more clause$ than he’s had hours of sleep: Chuck McGill, the torch-bearer of sacred, ancient ethics!"

The crowd murmurs, amused and apprehensive, as the two litigators enter.

A hush falls as Wesley Johnson strides into the cage, clutching a towering stack of legal briefs in one hand and wrapped in a tattered Jones Day bathrobe—the ultimate image of a fallen titan clinging to his last shreds of authority. His bloodshot red eyes blaze with manic intensity, fueled by a cocktail of Red Bull and corporate rage.

Across the ring, Chuck McGill enters with cold, quiet confidence. His tailored suit is pristine, his hair perfectly coiffed, as he gazes at Johnson with a blend of disdain and muted amusement.

The bell rings.

Round 1: The Verbal Assault

Johnson, his robe flapping like a battle standard, wastes no time launching into a wild assault. His fists flail, backed by a flurry of legal jargon hurled at McGill in rapid-fire. Each swing is punctuated with obscure case law and vicious insults about McGill’s “shady ethics” and questionable parentage, his voice thick with unhinged fervor. The air is thick with his desperation as he peppers McGill with increasingly frantic attempts to land a punch.

But McGill is unbothered. With the calm of a seasoned litigator-fighter and the precision of a man who prides himself on integrity, he dodges Johnson’s wild blows, his lips curling into a sardonic smirk.

Between each dodge, McGill delivers a precise jab, each one landing squarely on Johnson’s already disheveled face. “This is courtroom experience, Wesley,” he says, punctuating each strike with a taunt, shaking his right finger. “THE LAW IS SACRED. But you—you’re just an empty shell, flailing around in your so-called ‘zone.’”

Round 2: The Flailing Fury

(The fight descends into a brutal ballet of violence and despair. Johnson, his body a canvas of bruises and broken bones, fights with the ferocity of a cornered animal. McGill, his movements a symphony of calculated aggression, systematically dismantles his opponent, his every blow a testament to his ruthless efficiency.)

Johnson, increasingly desperate, reeling from McGill’s calculated punches, resorts to his last-ditch tactic: the legal briefs. In a fury, he begins chucking pages at McGill, hoping to overwhelm him with a “storm” of paper cuts. It’s a pathetic sight, legal jargon fluttering around the cage like snow in a twisted blizzard, as Johnson mutters clauses under his breath. “Clause 9.2… Clause 7.6…they HAVE TO mean something, die fraudfuck!”

McGill, sidestepping the avalanche of documents with surgical precision, leans in closer. He takes advantage of an opening to throw a swift knee to Johnson’s groin, sending him crumpling to the ground in pure agony.

“There’s your ‘zone,’ Wesley,” McGill says, his face impassive as he watches Johnson writhe like a worm.

Boom, watching from above via his wheelchair, cackles loudly, “It’s all fraud, We$ley!!!!! Welcome to Mainlining's Mahchine.”

Round 3: Descent into Madness

As Johnson, once lean and so sure of himself, pulls himself up, bloodied and gasping, he is almost possessed. He mutters obscure clauses from treatises dating back to the 1970s, retreating further into his “3:00 AM zone,” that trance-like state where law obsession blends into madness. His eyes further glazed, his mind unraveling with every breath.

McGill, both fascinated and disgusted, seizes the chance to deliver his final takedown. He closes in, muttering, “The 'law' was never yours to master. You serve it, but do not deserve it—you speak of ‘balance’ and ‘zones....’ but this is your best offering?”

Johnson’s manic laughter echoes through the cage as he stares up at McGill. “Balance? There’s no such thing. Only the work. You think you’ve won, but the zone doesn’t miss those who leave it.”

Transition to Final Scene: The Unraveling

Johnson’s laughter fades slowly, replaced by ragged breaths, his face crumpling as the weight of his defeat settles in. The manic energy drains, leaving a hollow, defeated figure. He clutches his torn briefs like a talisman of a shattered ego, eyes darting wildly, mumbling fragments of clauses. Finally, the sobs break through—soft at first, then wracking, echoing through the empty cage as he falls to his knees, a man abandoned by the "zone" he once worshipped.

Final Scene: The Defeated Sobbing

As McGill strides out of the cage, the crowd disperses, leaving Johnson alone in the dim basement, clutching his torn briefs and muttering threats of legal retribution. His sobbing echoes faintly in the empty space, the final sound of a man lost to his own chaotic “zone.”

Boom smirks from his wheelchair, a final whisper escaping his lips: “Clause 9.2 and the way it interacts with Clause 7.6...always wins.”

Fade to black: The empty cage, a faint sob, and a solitary page from Clause 9.2 drifting across the floor.

Final Shot: Boom, now alone in the empty basement, murmurs to himself with a twisted grin: “Just wait till I get Mainlining’s approval on this…”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5619967&forum_id=2#48251858)