Two men stand on a Coney Island boardwalk, looking out to sea. We see them from behind, they’re mostly in silhouette. The sun is setting over the ocean.
Man #1: I told you, man, that was 30 years ago. I left all that behind.
Opposite angle (looking in from the sea), closer so we can see their faces. The two men are Swan and Snow, former Warriors… now both in their 50s. Swan wears a business suit. Snow is wearing his old Warriors vest and colours. It doesn’t really fit anymore since he’s filled out with the old middle-aged spread, but he’s holding it together.
Swan looks at Snow through narrowed eyes. Behind them, the lights of a fairground are twinkling.
Man #1 (Swan): I thought you did too, Snowball.
The discussion becomes heated. Swan looks pissed off. Snow holds his hands up, a peacemaking gesture.
Snow: You know I did, Warlord. Got a nice gig playing--
Swan: Don’t call me that, man. I ain’t no—
Snow: You’ll always be Warlord to me, Swan. After that night in the Bronx…
Close on Swan, grim-faced.
Swan: Look, I don’t mind shooting the breeze with you about old times, man – but that’s all they is.
Swan turns and starts walking away down the boardwalk. Snow calls after him.
Swan: Those days are gone.
Snow: For us, that's as maybe…
Swan freezes in the forefront of the panel. Over his shoulder we see Snow, wiping a tired hand down his face.
Snow: But not for my kids, man.
Snow: They got ‘em, Warlord. The Rogues. They got my kids.
Snow: And you know what they want in return…