(First Draft) The Agency - Episode 1

"The Grimey Gang" This is the first ever episode I've written. It's intended to be a series and I already have plans for an entire season of this. This episode is basically the pilot / first draft.

The Agency

Season 1

Episode 1

'The Grimey Gang'

By Kiran Evans

******

Martin Gladius is a man of many talents, one of which would save his life. His story starts on a planet unlike any other. The entire surface of it is covered in black obsidian and basalt, thanks to the hostile crust being churned by the extreme undercurrents from the demonic god-of-a-planet below. About a third of the planet is molten lava, and the only solid ground is littered with sharp splinters of black rock " uninhabitable. Nevertheless, humankind decides to colonise it and take it for themselves, regardless of danger.

They say humankind originated on Earth, but this is up for speculation and most of the governments in the solar systems keep the details about their birth planet secret.

Martin is a human (a remarkable one). He shares the features of his father, Michael, who " despite his name " was of New Chinese origin. Martin doesn't really care about his family's history, much like most of the human race nowadays. It's quite difficult to trace a family name back to the early 22^nd Century, let alone before that, so why bother? By the year 2100 most cultures had blended together into one big mesh of language, tradition, food, religion and conduct; however, there are some roots of Earth-era humanity still alive today.

Being born in the year 2178, Martin was destined to grow up into one of the worst wars humankind would experience, but also being born on Fu-Sang 5 (the planet he'd come to call home) meant that he dodged the bullet " the citizens of Fu-Sang 5 didn't get involved in the war. Martin had a blissful upbringing and was always an athletic boy. His schools had gained a local fame for having him as a student as he'd won multiple tournaments in countless sports. But his favourite pastime was sword fighting.

His love for hand-to-hand combat grew into a passion and eventually into a life path. Always wanting to pursue a career in combat training, Martin worked hard at his passion, training himself, setting up clubs and extra-curricular sports teams at school, but none of it excited him. When he left education at the age of 20, he realised that there was no way for him to chase his dreams while stuck on this “lousy planet”, and after losing his father to the war he was left with no family.

It seemed to Martin that the only path left for him was his destiny. A life of crime. And a life of crime he took. His 2 decades of combat training allowed him to rob and pillage with extreme stealth and efficiency and he'd acquired a respectable bounty. It eventually became apparent that the criminals of New Tokyo competed with one another; whoever had the highest bounty was the alpha male, the big dog. And Martin gained that title one particular week.

It's the night before his big day, and Martin decides to swing by the local police station to see if he'd made it to the top of the leaderboard this week. As he approaches the building, he sees the fuzzy projection in the window. He sighs to himself with pride as a blurry image of a figure jumping out of an apartment window slides into view.

“Damn,” Martin says to himself in his middle-American accent, “I gotta stop wearing this red one.” He looks down at his sweatshirt, re-considering wearing crimson clothes next time he robs a house.

Pacing down the street towards his gang's hideout, he notices how empty the pavement is. There are only three other people sharing the street with him, and then he notices the absence of vehicles as well. Once he reaches the old mechanic's he darts under the jammed shutter, hops across the workshop floor and tiptoes down the stairs, running his gloved hand along the cold, oily bannister. He ducks and spots his partner Flynn slouched over the pool table with (what is probably illegal) vodka in the right hand, cigar in the left.

With all the silence he can muster, Martin creeps up on Flynn, keeping out of view and placing his feet slowly with each step. He holds his breath and approaches the other man, now a silhouette thanks to the dim lamp resting on the pool table, Flynn's enormous figure casting a shadow over Martin as he crouches and prepares to jump on him.

Only one foot away, his heart beats faster than normal. Half a foot, his heart is in overdrive. He knows what Flynn will do if he takes the prank badly, and the thoughts and possibilities crowd Martin's mind, forcing sweat from his skin. Less than 4 inches from being in physical contact with Flynn, and Martin almost blacks out from the suspense. Flynn takes a swig from his glass and reinserts the cigar into his mouth. He inhales and retrieves it once again, taps it on the table " adding to the pile of ash where the cue ball should sit " and breathes out heavily. He takes another breath and then kills Martin's plans with a sentence.

“Touch me and this poison will be in your hair.”

Martin recoils and collapses into a chair behind him.

“How did you know it was me?” He says, exhausted.

“I always know. I have to, otherwise you'll try and kill me again,” replies Flynn.

Martin chuckles at the memory of how he was inducted into the gang. He was being threatened by some members of the gang, but managed to outsmart them. Once he thought he'd escaped, Flynn took the chance and tried to grab Martin, but he ducked down and disappeared only to creep up on him and put a gun to his head. That's when Kai showed up and stopped Martin from taking out Flynn.

“You seen the boss lately?” Martin asks.

“C'mon man, you know Kai's not around on the weekends. He's got... other business to deal with,” Flynn replies, taking a swig and inhaling on his cigar once again, probably not helping his already raspy voice. He speaks with a low register tone, and with an accent somewhat derived from cockney.

Martin shakes his head and sighs. “I don't know how you do it.”

“Do what?” Questions Flynn.

“Sip vodka and breathe smoke all day and live long enough to tell everyone how screwed up your life is.”

Flynn makes an effort to snicker, but chokes on it, regretting it instantly. Once he recovers he settles for a grunt before turning round to face Martin. He is taller than the average man, 6' 6”, and towers over most of the other gang members. His face is war-torn and aged, creased by experience, torn by emotion. Approaching 50 years old, Flynn is the closest thing Martin has to a father, and together they seem to have formed a father-son bond as Flynn doesn't have children of his own. He wears a black sweatshirt, with a deep purple shirt underneath. And just to emphasise his complete lack of fashion sense, he also wears dark blue denim jeans, passed down from his father. His shoes are typical hard-labour footwear: solid as rocks (and probably about as comfortable) and what most people describe as brown, although the many stains paint the shoes different colours in different places, a splattered patchwork of untidiness.

Just as Martin conjures up a subject for conversation, footsteps can be heard traversing the floor above. Martin looks at Flynn with a confused expression, which he returns. The footsteps reach the top of the stairs, and begin taking the stairs. They become ever more audible as they approach the two gang members slouched in the hideout. Flynn carefully places his glass on the green felt, taps his cigar and puts his free hand to his belt, gripping the handgun. Martin carefully makes his way to the back of the room and takes hold of a similar weapon, though slightly smaller.

Flynn c***s his gun and puts the cigar in his mouth, gripping it with his stained yellow teeth and aims at the now visible feet. Martin checks his weapon too, and aims at the approaching figure, and as he does he spots the weapon in the intruder's hands as the legs and torso become seeable. Finally, in the shadow of the poorly lit room, the figure is standing tall in the doorway. Stock still. It speaks, in a gruff tone, almost too gruff to be real.

“Ladies, what's on your mind?”

Flynn grabs the lamp and turns it towards the figure revealing the face of his boss. Martin breathes out heavily in a peevish manner.

“D****t Kai, why'd you creep up on us like that?” Says Martin.

“Thought I'd try out your technique,” he replies, “clearly didn't work.” He steps out of the doorway and takes a seat opposite Martin. Flynn joins them, bringing his drink with him.

“What're you doing here? I thought you were out with your woman,” asks Flynn.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kai bats away the question, “I was, but I got info from Sync. He says there's a potential job going down Kong Street tonight, so I left her cold and came here.”

“The market!” Martin exclaims.

“Yeah.”

“But there's no-one about today. It's all quiet for Remembrance Day, there ain't gonna be anyone down there.”

“That's the point. The stalls will be there. Heck, they're pretty much permanent, but there won't be many people. So tonight's our chance to get some more equipment for the big job.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” says Flynn.

“Man, it's gonna be a hectic day tomorrow then,” Martin worriedly adds.

“Why's that?”

“Well, I've got my ceremony at Hiroko's. I'm being promoted to a black belt.” Martin is a student at Hiroko's School of Martial Arts. He's been learning several at once " one of which being derived from an old sword fighting technique called Samurai: for this reason, he's known as 'Razor' " so that he can combine them in the final test. And tomorrow morning is his graduation.

“You better not get beat up too bad then,” says Kai, “you've gotta take the centre stage on the black market stalls in the evening. I'm hoping to get a hostage tonight, that way we can 'extract' some information about their whereabouts.”

Just as he finishes his sentence and reaches for a cigar on the table, there is a knock at the door. Flynn and Martin turn to face the knock and see their fellow comrade Sync stood at the bottom of the steps. Flynn beckons to him and Martin moves a pile of dirty and unkempt clothes off the remaining chair. Sync enters the room and sits down quietly, placing a device on the table as he does so.

“Thanks, Sync,” says Kai through his teeth, clenching the cigar as he lights it. “Right,” he continues, pulling the cigar out after inhaling deeply, “Now we're all here, I'd better give you the mission details: Flynn and Razor, you're front and centre as always, Flynn acting as the citizen and Razor getting ready to take out the people behind the stall (there's three of 'em) -”

“A'ight,” says Razor, who nods in affirmation along with Flynn.

“- Sync: I need you to monitor the cameras, make sure there ain't a record of the whole thing; and as always, I'll be ready on the side if it hits the fan. -”

Sync nods.

“- Today, I'll be driving the van waiting for y'all to get the hostage and bung him in the back,” he looks at Flynn, “it's the younger guy we need, he's the son of the stall owner. Right, you know what to do: suit up!”

As the gang prepare their weapons, choose their clothes and practice their moves, the New Tokyo sky darkens from its usual concealing grey to an unmistakeable black. The nights on Fu-Sang 5 are incredibly cold, but the technology of the 22^nd Century allows the harnessing of the heat generated by volcanoes, to be carried into the city underfloor. The lights of the city flick on instantaneously and in perfect synchronization, brightening the streets enough to light the way for a blind man.

The gang make their way out of the hideout. Flynn leaves first, dressed in a brown leather coat, black jeans and a khaki cap. Razor tags along and bounds up the stairs after him, his attire consisting of a black nylon fleece, dark grey tracksuits and with a bright red balaclava in his pocket; his trademark. Flynn and Razor both carry fair sized handguns and enough ammo to take out a dozen men (there won't be more on a day as quiet as this). Sync leaves third, dressed in a long black coat that comes to his knees, a black cap, a black balaclava around his neck (ready to pull over his face) and long dark blue trousers. He carries only a small pistol, but a backpack full of hacking gear. Finally, Kai leaves. He bolts the steel door shut and jams it deliberately into the bent frame to make it harder to open. He is dressed in a grey shirt, a black winter coat, blue jeans and running shoes. He carries a backpack with a grey boiler suit and clown mask inside, relics of his previous life as a bank robber. His weapon of choice is a small semi-machine gun, intended for the intimidation of the hostage and not for actual killing as it is way too loud; Kai's gang works by stealth.

Kai gets in the van parked behind the mechanic's workshop, accompanied by Sync. Razor jumps into a small hatchback and heads off towards Kong Street. Flynn takes his cap off, puts on a green helmet and boards his motorcycle. He switches it to silent mode as he pulls out of the workshop, and follows Razor's route. The van does the same, but leaves 2 minutes later, staggering the convoy so as not to raise suspicion.

It's late evening, and the crew are ready to take on their easiest job yet. The scene is set. Kong Street is a long venue of commerce: the pedestrianised road is walled by skyscraping apartment buildings, and the street itself is dotted with semi-permanent stalls from all over the galaxy. The one the gang are raiding tonight is a weapons stall. Kai is hoping to get some ammunition for their existing weapons, as well as gaining some new ones, but the main reason they are taking down this stall specifically is because Kai wants a hostage. Stood half asleep behind the stall are three people: a young woman, probably the girlfriend of the young man, and an older man " the owner of the business. Kai is after the younger man as he is likely to break under pressure and will give information about the black market (the easiest way for the gang to trade weapons if they can find out where it operates).

Flynn walks out into the street from a concealed alleyway and approaches the stall. The older man at the stall nudges the young man and points at Flynn. Flynn smiles at the young man and steps up to the stall.

“Hello, I was wondering if you could tell me...”

Meanwhile, Kai and Sync watch from a shadowy corner of an apartment block on the opposite side of the street. Razor is shrunk behind another stall, keeping Flynn in view. He creeps along the front wall of one of the buildings, sheltered by the darkness from an overhanging balcony. Gradually getting nearer the stall, he takes out a baton of carbon fibre, its core made of steel, from his pocket. Silently, he pulls the red balaclava over his mouth and nose and he slinks behind the target stall unseen. There is a back entrance to the stall, which Razor peeks around only to see the backs of the three targets, their attention fixed on Flynn.

“...and how much do you buy for?”

Razor slowly creeps into the stall and freezes. Within touching distance of all three staff he prepares his practiced strategy. Knock out the young man first, as he is likely to put up more of a fight, then ground the woman as Flynn takes control of the older man. Kai will then intervene and take the hostage away into the van along with Sync.

“...so how much was that again?”

Razor stands up, the older man flinches as he hears rustling behind him. Flynn reaches into his pocket for a baton identical to Razor's and whips it out of his pocket. Razor, at that point, thwacks the young man on the back of the skull, knocking him out clean. Flynn grabs the older man as he turns around to attack Razor and pins him to the ground. Razor kicks out the woman's legs and she falls to the ground. Kai and Sync rush to the scene as the other stall owners begin to wonder what is going on. As they run to aid the others, Kai turns to Sync.

“Now, Sync!” Kai yells, sprinting.

Sync nods and taps the screen on his device. As he does so, the lights in the street go out and the gates at either end close.

“Good work!”

“Need a little help here!” Yells Flynn as he struggles to keep the old man on the ground.

“Gimme the pack,” instructs Razor to Sync as he keeps his knee pushed into the back of the young woman.

Sync throws his backpack to Razor and he reaches inside, pulling out a small square of plastic. He peels it in half to reveal a sedation patch, used by the gang to cloud the memory of their victims. He pulls the hair of the woman back and sticks the patch to her neck.

“There we go, go to sleep. This never happened,” says Razor in an attempt to sooth.

Flynn then reaches inside the pack and does the same to the older man. After both fall silent and stop squirming, Flynn and Razor remove the patches and throw them onto the ground together. Kai takes out a small cylindrical device and points it at the used patches, pressing a button and watching them go up in flames. After the evidence becomes nothing but ash, Kai and Sync carry the young man back to the van and bundle him in. They put a brown sack over his head and tie his hands and legs together. Once Kai and Sync are seated, the gang drives off in different directions so as not to gain suspicion from cameras outside the street.

Later that night, back in the mechanic's workshop, the hostage is sat tied up in a rusty iron chair in the middle of the workshop floor. Below, in the hideout, Flynn is in his usual position once again: slumped over the pool table drinking vodka and smoking a cigar. Razor and Sync sit opposite each other staring into the abyss and listening to Kai's voice upstairs as he interrogates the hostage.

“Now then,” says Kai, “why don't you tell me your name?”

The hostage whimpers, and only just manages to slip a few words out, “I... no... please...”

“Sorry? What's that?” Kai leans in closer, positioning his face centimeters from the hostage's face. The hostage tries to lean back in defence, but he goes too far and the chair topples.

“Careful now,” smirks Kai as he stands above the fallen hostage, “we don't want you to get hurt, just tell me your name.”

This continues for at least another three times, Kai's voice getting louder and more aggressive with each command. Eventually, he gives up and tries another question.

“OK, the black market then. Tell me about that.”

The hostage tries to close his eyes in retaliation, but the fear overcomes him and his eyelids stay stuck.

Kai sighs, pulls out a handgun and points it to the hostage's head, “Look, you are disposable to me. You don't actually mean anything. If you don't give me any information I'll just go and get another hostage. So you'd better start talking or else your brains will be the crib's new paintwork.”

At midnight, Razor falls asleep in his chair and Sync gets up and lies down on a pile of old clothes. Flynn is almost asleep and is about to drop his head on the table when Kai comes down the stairs with a grin on his face.

“You... get something,” slurs Flynn with a struggle.

“Oh yes,” replies Kai, “I've got info on another stall. We've got a mission for tomorrow, and a hell of a plan to make!”

“Sounds... good,” mumbles Flynn as he finally collapses onto the pool table. His vodka spilling onto the felt and splashing over his cigar, extinguishing it.

Kai goes back upstairs with Sync's backpack and pulls out a patch. “This one's a bit heavier than your family got tonight, so sleep well!” And with that, he slaps it onto the hostage who immediately falls into a precisely calculated 12 hour slumber. Kai returns to the hideout and drops onto the only bed, closes his eyes, and falls into the world of scandalous plotting...

Author's Note

Please ignore any spelling mistakes. Please note there are some fictional place names and character names here. Please, please, please give me some feedback on this as I'd really like to make it into a series! Thanks!

Reviews

[Peter Evans]

Good title and start to the story. The first sentence pulls me in as a reader and makes me want to find out which talent will save his life. I would delete the next sentence starting “His story...” as you are about to tell his story and you don't need to tell the reader that is what you are about to do.

I hope you find the following to be constructive criticism although by its' very nature, criticism focuses on the negative.

If you want your episodes to stand alone as stories in their own right and unless the macro-politics and topography of the planet are vital for you to get your future episodes to make any sense, I would leave those details out until they become part of the story that you are telling. In place of this I feel that you could expand Martin's feelings about his family background and develop, what I perceive to be, your underlying point of more mixed and blended races of people in future generations.

In terms of delivery I would prefer you to show me what is happening rather than tell me. For example, in the following extract you tell about Martin's past from the point of view as you as omnipotent narrator but it would read better, in my opinion, if this was delivered, perhaps in smaller chunks, as dialogue between two of the characters. “His love for hand-to-hand combat grew into a passion and eventually into a life path. Always wanting to pursue a career in combat training, Martin worked hard at his passion, training himself, setting up clubs and extra-curricular sports teams at school, but none of it excited him. When he left education at the age of 20, he realised that there was no way for him to chase his dreams while stuck on this “lousy planet”, and after losing his father to the war he was left with no family”. This first part could be re-written as dialogue between Martin and Kai when they are discussing the raid on the market and Martin mentions about his grading. It would take up more words but I think you can afford to edit some of this story out for future episodes.

In terms of building up the personalities of the characters I think you need to look at this aspect again. It came across as a little bit clumsy when you, again as narrator, tell me about how Martin feels about Flynn. It would add more depth to the characters if you revealed this in dialogue between them or as showing some way in which Flynn had become a father figure to Martin by his actions. I know that this is a short story and it is difficult to find the space to develop each character but it is noticeable that the only female characters that you have are weak victims. The wife being “left cold” at home and the girl in the stall (probably a girlfriend?) who is overcome so easily. You are alienating a large part of your audience by writing such weak female characters. Perhaps think about giving her a part that shows her in a stronger light? Maybe she could also be kidnapped and play a pivotal role in the interrogation?

As far as the pace is concerned I think you have done well to keep the action going but there are too many flash backs and references to the things that have happened in the past that do not have a direct impact on the story in this episode. I would prefer to see this episode concentrate on the plans for the raid on the market that it culminates in rather than fill in a lot of background information about the characters. Also, it was not clear at first that the raid that they are planning is a prelude to a bigger raid in future. This could be rectified by more detail in the interrogation of the prisoner from the market to actually try and draw out information from that character that could be used in future episodes. As it stands at the moment the interrogation is just a series of threats without a real purpose. Perhaps put yourself in the position of getting information about a future event from a child who is not particularly eloquent and you might be able to phrase some questions that Flynn puts to the hostage to extract useful information? I don't mean being condescending (that means talking down to somebody) in your questioning but just as a technique to getting information from someone who is reluctant to give it!!

There are also some anomalies in the way that the characters act and speak. I'm not sure about the scene where Martin goes to check his rating at the police station adds to the story and the way that he tries to sneak up on Flynn in the gangs club house and yet neither of them recognise Kai as he comes down the stairs seems a bit odd. Especially as Sync appears to just stroll down!

Overall a good first effort and even if you don't agree with my comments above I hope some of them will give you some food for thought.