(Revised) The Agency - Episode 1

"The Grimy Gang" Yes, I realise I spelt many things wrong in the first draft (including the title of the episode) but I have improved many things since then. Have a look.

The Agency

Series 1

Episode 1

'The Grimy Gang'

By Kiran Evans

******

Martin Gladius is a man of many talents, one of which would save his life. Being born in the year 2178 on Fu-Sang 5, 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 fellow pupils called him 'Razor'.

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, with no family or friends to support him, he realised that there was no way for him to chase his dreams and 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.

He slowly forgot his name, his true identity, and sunk into the dark depths of the criminal world and into the name 'Razor'. His damaged mind-set pushed him further and further down and he eventually joined a gang as he had no family to fall back on, just an old tutor of his (named 'Hiroko') who provided Razor with a home and took him in when he found out that he'd been sleeping on the streets and using his skills to scavenge and steel. Even though he now associates himself more with 'Razor', Hiroko calls him by his first name, not knowing about the alternate gang life Razor leads, and wants to teach him that his skills can be used for good, not just for scavenging.

Pacing down the street towards his gang's hideout, Razor notices how empty the pavement is. In fact, it is completely empty �" the only people out on Remembrance Day are the market stall vendors. 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 spots his partner Flynn slouched over the pool table with (what is probably illegal) vodka in the right hand, cigar in the left.

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

Razor chuckles and collapses into one of the four chairs around the table.

“You seen the boss lately?” Razor asks.

“You know Kai's not around on the weekends, mate. 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.

Razor 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 Razor. He is taller than the average man, 6' 6”, and towers over all of the other gang members. His face is war-torn and aged, creased by five decades of experience, torn by three emotional marriages. He wears a black sweatshirt, with a deep purple shirt underneath. And just to emphasise his complete lack of modern 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.

The sound of the shutter rattling at the front of the workshop above them informs them that another gang member has entered the building.

“Sync's here,” says Flynn.

“Mm,” Razor agrees.

The heavy footsteps down the flight of stairs towards the hideout make the approaching gang member known, and in a cheesily gruff tone he speaks:

“Ladies, what's on your mind?”

“Kai? I thought you were out,” says Flynn as his boss enters the room.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kai bats away the question, “I was, but I got a message from Sync. He's found a guy who has info on the black market and he's behind a stall on Kong Street tonight.”

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

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

“So we're raiding the Kong Street market to get info about another market?”

“Correct.”

“Sounds like a dumb plan to me,” criticises Flynn.

“You got any better ideas, granddad?” Kai struggles to stop himself from lashing out.

Flynn regrets questioning Kai and goes back to sipping and smoking.

“We can't keep raiding the civilian markets, Flynn, we're gonna get caught eventually, so I'm trying to get info on the black market because they're all underground and hush-hush. No cops. No trouble. So we're getting info from a guy tonight, so we can enter the black market tomorrow.”

“Man, it's gonna be hectic tomorrow then,” Razor worriedly adds.

“Why's that?”

“I've got my ceremony at Hiroko's in the morning. I'm being promoted to a black belt.”

“You better not get beat up too bad then,” says Kai, “you've gotta take centre stage!”

“So, when's Sync getting here?” Flynn asks.

“He should be here any moment. We're getting a couple hostages tonight, that way we can 'extract' some information about the black market’s whereabouts.”

Just as he finishes his sentence and reaches for a cigar on the table, there is a knock at the door. Flynn and Razor turn to face the knock and see their fellow comrade Sync stood at the bottom of the steps. Flynn beckons to him and Razor 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 take out the lights and the cameras, we'll focus on the action; and as always, I'll be ready with the van if it hits the fan. -”

Sync nods.

“- I'll be waiting for y'all to get the hostages and bung 'em in the back. It's the young ones we need. 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 the enormous volcanoes to be carried into the city underfloor. The lights of the city flick on instantaneously and in perfect synchronization, brightening the streets enough 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, the crew are ready and the scene is set. Kong Street is a long avenue of commerce: the pedestrianised road is walled by sky-scraping apartment buildings, and the street itself is dotted with semi-permanent stalls from all over the galaxy. Stood half asleep behind the target stall are three people: a young man, a young woman (probably the girlfriend of the young man), and an older man (the owner of the business).

Flynn steps 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 practice strategy.

“...so how much was that again?”

Razor stands up, the older man flinches as he hears rustling behind him.

Kai turns to Sync. “Now!” He commands in a yelled whisper.

Sync double-taps the screen on his device. As he does so, the lights in the street go out and the gates at either end close, followed by some mutters of concern and confusion from the other vendors.

“Good work!”

Flynn reaches into his pocket for a baton and 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. He pins her. Kai and Sync rush to the scene as the other stall owners begin to wonder what is going on.

“Need a little help here!” Yells Flynn as he struggles to keep the old man still, “Gimme the pack,” he says to Sync as he keeps his knee pushed into the back of the old man.

“Get off me you dirty rats!” Yells the woman as Razor pushes her head onto the floor.

Sync throws his backpack to Flynn and he reaches inside, pulling out a small dart, used by the gang to cloud the memory of their victims. He pulls the head of the older man back and sticks the dart in his neck.

“There we go, go to sleep. This never happened,” says Flynn sinisterly.

Razor grabs the backpack and pulls out a second dart which he jams into the woman's neck as she screams to be let go.

Sync pulls two canisters from his pack and throws them into the street, they explode into particulates with an orange flash and a surprisingly muffled pop. Flynn and Razor lug the woman back to the van and bundle her in with a struggle. They put a brown sack over her head and tie her hands and legs together. Kai and Sync carry the young man to the van and put him in too, Sync gives him a shot with the dart too just to be sure.

Once the hostages are safely tied up, the gang drives off in different directions so as not to gain suspicion from cameras outside the street. As the vehicles escape, the lights in the street flick back on to reveal the stall shrouded in a cloud of blue smoke.

Later that night, back in the mechanic's workshop, the hostages are sat tied up in rusty iron chairs 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 hostages.

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

The man 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 centimetres from the man's face. He 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's eyes are closed and he gives no answer.

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.”

The young woman, recognising what is going on, whispers, “Stop.”

Kai turns his head, pulls the gun away from the man's head and violently yanks the brown sack off the other hostage's head. “What?” He snarls at her.

“Stop,” she replies, more audible.

“Alright, then,” smirks Kai, “I will... when you give me information about the black market. All I need to know is its location and how much noise it makes. Can't have the R.H.I.N.O. knowing about it can we?”

“Stop. Just stop,” the woman begins to scowl and her face flushes red.

“Or what? What you gonna do? No-one knows you're here, you don't know where you are, and when you wake up in the morning none of this will have happened. We've got some extra-special sleepy pills for you and your... partner here.” He nudges the man with his foot. “Hold on, I think he's unconscious.” He pulls the chair back up and the male hostage doesn't react. Kai flicks the cold face to get a reaction, to no avail.

“Of course he's unconscious, you moron,” blurts the woman.

Kai makes a fist with his free hand and faces the woman again, “What?”

“You know, you say 'What?' a lot. I think I could do a better interrogation than you, to be honest,” she says with a sarcastic smile.

Kai laughs angrily, trying desperately to hold back his aggression, “Oh ho ho. You really like to push it don't you? There is little chance that you are superior to me... in any way!”

“Why? Because I'm female?”

Kai yells, “You'd better get used to the harsh reality, love, you ain't gonna appeal to my better nature!”

“You know, there are people on other planets that would have you executed by now.”

“Yeah, well they ain't here. And you're gonna get to see a little execution of yourself if you don't start talking.” He points the gun at the unconscious man's head again.

The woman starts shaking and her lips quiver, “OK, I'll give you the location. Just don't hurt him. It's under the poker club. Only the manager of the club knows about it.”

“And he runs it?” Kai presses.

The woman seals her lips tight. Kai responds by pushing the gun between the man's eyes, letting the chair tilt backwards slightly.

“No,” the woman spills out, “he only monitors the building, he doesn't run it.”

“So who does?”

The woman whimpers then mutters some syllables under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Fei-Ju! Zoe Fei-Ju. She's been running underground markets since they started on Fu-Sang 5. She's in the building every day and she trades personally with the club manager. That's all I know, now let us go!”

“Well done. That wasn't so hard was it?”

“If I ever get off this planet, I'm gonna have you arrested!”

“Listen lady,” says Kai, “you ain't getting' off this planet. No-one is. So just sit there while I get your sleeping medicine. Sync!”

Sync sprints up the stairs with two darts similar to the one used at the stall, but with a cylinder of green liquid stuck to the top. He hands one to Kai and jams the other one into the neck of the unconscious man.

“Your wife must resent you!” Says the female hostage as Kai approaches her.

Kai laughs, “Which one?” He cockily replies as he wrestles with the woman to hold her still and eventually gets the 'medicine' into her neck. Her body becomes numb and floppy as she slumps in the chair and falls asleep.

At midnight, Razor falls asleep in his chair and Flynn, almost asleep, is about to drop his head on the table when Kai comes down the stairs with a grin on his face, followed by the ever-silent Sync.

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

“Oh yes,” replies Kai, “I've got the location, the name of the big cat and apparently a warrant for my arrest. 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.

Sync curls up on the floor and Kai drops onto the only bed, closes his eyes, and falls into the world of scandalous plotting...

Author's Note

This is a revised version of the first draft. This is now the final story and this is how the episode will play out in the final version. If you could suggest some improvements to the writing style that would be very helpful, thanks! Please note that if there are no major improvements that I can make to this, then it WILL be the final version and published to my website as the very first episode of a VERY BIG idea I am working on.