INT.
APARTMENT LOBBY- DAY
Tom
is dressed in a white tracksuit and white baseball cap, with black
wraparound sunglasses.
TOM
(V/O)
It’s
as far away as I could get from a suit. The only people out today are
scallies, trying to prove they’re not scared. The theory is I’ll
blend in perfectly.
Tom
walks through the shopping centre- businesses are brave and proud,
and have mostly stayed open. The police are everywhere.
TOM
(V/O Cont.)
It’s
a good job it’s hot. I’d still be sweating like a paedophile in a
crèche if it were January.
Yanyan
is further ahead, still looking over her shoulder, although her face
is obscured as she tries to sell. Tom approaches her discreetly. But
he’s not discreet enough for some…
RANDOM
METROSEXUAL GUY
‘Scuse
me mate.
Tom
eyes the man suspiciously. He’s carrying a large guitar bag on his
back.
METROSEXUAL
‘Scuse
me. You look familiar.
TOM
(Apprehensive)
I
don’t recognise you.
METROSEXUAL
Is
it Tom?
Tom's
eyes widen in panic.
METROSEXUAL
I’m
Chris; I’m Gina’s fella. From Student Village.
FLASHBACK
Corridor
party from the opening scene. Chris wears the name tag ERIC CARTMAN
on his forehead.
A
combination of realisation and relief washes over Tom.
TOM
Fucking
hell mate. How're you doing?
Chris
and Tom shake hands, Chris eyeing him suspiciously. Tom didn’t
normally wear tracksuits at uni.
CHRIS
Good.
We’ve got another album out now, our third one.
TOM
Cool.
CHRIS
You’re
braving it today aren’t you?
TOM
Yeah,
you could say that.
CHRIS
I
should have got a taxi to practice, really. Gina would go fucking
mental if she found out I walked through Manchester.
TOM
Nah,
nothing's gonna happen today.
CHRIS
(confused)
How…
do you know?
Tom
realises he’s made an error and said too much.
TOM
You’re
right. But God forbid. You know.
CHRIS
(Cont)
So
what you up to these days?
Pause.
TOM
I’m
in business support.
CHRIS
Oh,
like admin? Yeah, been there. Not my bag to be honest.
FLASHBACK
The
laptop cases in the apartment
TOM
It’s
not mine either, to be honest. I’m trying to get out of it.
CHRIS
Can’t
really advise you mate, other than stay in it. There’s nothing out
there. I’m caretaking at the recording studio at the moment but
it’s just not paying the bills.
TOM
Things
will improve, I guarantee. They’re just gonna have to get a hell of
a lot worse before anyone does anything about it.
CHRIS
They
can’t get much worse than this, mate. Remember Cambridge Louise?
FLASHBACK-
The
corridor party again, and the girl labelled KATE WINSLET.
CHRIS
She
died. Somewhere out here. Her mum just blanket texted me.
TOM
Jesus
Christ.
CHRIS
She’d
got a new job; She’d only come back up to Manchester a week ago.
Guilt
hits Tom.
CHRIS
Hey,
listen- I found some dodgy channel this morning- between channel four
and five- It was like watching the news, only made by people who
didn’t have a clue what they were doing. The lighting was bad and
the cameras weren’t even fixed down, but they knew their facts. You
couldn’t make it up. They’ve passed a new law in parliament.
They’re basically saying that they can’t arrest terror suspects,
because their 'intelligence'-
Chris
makes speech marks with his fingers-
CHRIS
(Cont)
-Wherever
they’re pulling it from- is telling them that suspects are going to
blow themselves up if anyone tries to apprehend them. They’re
having to shoot to kill on sight. PM said it’s been happening in
Afghanistan for long enough, and it’s only a matter of time before
it was, you know, necessary here.
Tom
nods, staring into space.
TOM
Scary
times.
Pause.
CHRIS
Well,
I’ve got practice.
TOM
Yeah.
Stay in touch, Chris.
Tom
hands him a business card.
CHRIS
You
too mate. Here, check our website.
Chris
hands him a card from the pocket of his guitar case.
TOM
Will
do. See you later.
Tom
approaches Yanyan, who's ahead of him with her back turned.
TOM
Yanyan.
No
response. Tom grabs her arm and she looks up, terrified. It’s not
Yanyan. It’s another, much younger Chinese lady doing the same job.
TOM
(confused)
Sorry,
uh…
He
wanders off. He approaches a white guy running a news stand. The
stand has loads of pictures of Tom’s photo fit all over the papers.
TOM
I’m
looking for Yanyan.
WHITE
STALL CLERK
Who?
TOM
Yanyan.
Chinese woman.
WHITE
STALL CLERK
She’s
there.
TOM
That’s
not Yanyan mate, that’s someone else.
WHITE
STALL CLERK
I
dunno, they all look the same, mate.
Pause.
TOM
That’s
‘cause you’re a fucking ignorant Nazi, you prick.
Tom
walks off briskly, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Store clerk is
stunned.
TOM
(cont.)
For
fuck’s sake.
Passers
by glance nervously, more so than in previous scenes.
TOM
(cont., to himself)
Where
the fuck is she?
Tom
walks down a back alley, away from any Police.
A
man in all-black- suit, shirt, tie, sunglasses- is walking the other
way. Unprovoked and without emotion, the man pulls out a knife and
thrusts it at Tom’s chest. It hits the spider-silk vest but won’t
go through. In PANIC, Tom instinctively grabs the arm holding the
knife and SNAPS it with his elbow. The knife immediately points up to
the assassin’s throat. ASSASSIN has only just started screaming
when the broken half of his wrist points the knife towards himself
and his throat is cut. Blood SPRAYS all over Tom’s face and chest.
The man convulses and dies slowly.
Tom’s
expression changes from fear to arrogant impatience, waiting for him
to die- as if he’s becoming immune to the horror.
The
convulsions stop, and the weight of the situation sinks in. Tom tries
to suppress the panic hitting him.
He
takes off the tracksuit top and wipes as much blood off his face as
he can. Then he folds it to hide the blood.
He
composes himself then steps out, wearing the white tracksuit bottoms
and black spider silk vest.
As
he walks further from the shops, he passes two SCALLIES.
SCALLY
1
He’s
got the right idea, look. Where’d you get that flak jacket, mate?
TOM
(dazed)
Uh…
from the market.
SCALLY
1
What,
the black market?
Tom
senses the possibility of a racist undertone to the remark.
TOM?
What?
What you tryin’ to say, you fucking nazi?!
Tom
steps towards them and they run off. Bystanders on the high street
notice and Tom curses himself, walking off.
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