User:Skakid9090/Skadiddly Royale

'''    The name's kid. Skakid. '''



Skadiddly Royale

Fade in:

EXT. MODERN OFFICE - NIGHT

Snow on the ground. It's the middle of the night. A car pulls up alongside the ultra-modern building. Mitch gets out and moves inside.

INT. FOYER - OFFICE BLOCK - NIGHT

Deserted except for the guard at the reception desk. Mitch mutters a greeting and heads for the elevator.

EXT. CRICKET GROUND - DAY

We're in Lahore, Pakistan, a game in progress, the Pakistani team fielding, British team batting. The grandstand is crowded. The bowler hurls a ball, the batsman hits it up in the air, arcing it towards the stands. The crowd reach for it, one person catches it, throws it back.

Standing next to the thrower is a dark, well built man, applauding the shot along with everyone else. Call him Questecure. He glances back at a rowdy group of fans and spots a man watching him, his face in silhouette: Skakid. Questecure reacts, pushes through the crowd, away from Skakid.

INT. MODERN OFFICE - NIGHT

Sleek surfaces, lit only by the skyline beyond. Mitch enters, moving quickly to a hidden safe without bothering to turn on the lights. He stops dead when he sees it ajar. Mitch turns and sees Skakid sitting in the shadows.

Skakid: M doesn't really mind us making a little money on the side, Mitch. She would just prefer it it wasn't by selling secrets.

EXT. CRICKET GROUND - DAY

A roar from the crowd: the batsman has been bowled out. Questecure jumps over the edge of the stand, moves down the TUNNEL, passing the batsman on his way out. He ducks around a corner into a dark corridor, leans against the wall. The door at the far end of the corridor opens. Questecure turns to see Skakid walking towards him. Questecure bolts.

INT. MODERN OFFICE - NIGHT

Mitch turns on his desk lamp and sits, as cool as an autumn evening. In that same motion, he flicks open a hidden panel in his desk, revealing the butt of a semi-automatic.

Mitch: If the theatrics are supposed to scare me, then you have the wrong man, Skakid. If M was so sure I was bent, she'd have sent a double-O. Benefits of being section chief; I'd know if anyone had been promoted to double-O status, wouldn't I? Your file shows no kills, and it takes -

Skakid: Two.

Mitch tries to show he is not suddenly unnerved.

Mitch: (smiles to cover) You aren't a cricket fan by any chance, are you?

INT. CRICKET GROUND - CLUB HOUSE - DAY

Questecure races up a narrow staircase, leading to a balcony restaraunt. It's a dead end. He pushes through a side door, runs down a long corridor, bursts into a RESTROOM. It's empty. He whirls, drawing a gun, pointing it back at the door, waiting for Skakid to appear.

INT. MODERN OFFICE - NIGHT

Mitch grabs his pistol and levels it. Skakid still hasn't moved.

Mitch: Shame we never really got to know each other.

He pulls the trigger. Click. Skakid holds up the magazine.

Skakid: (with humor) I knew where you hid your gun. I suppose that's something.

Mitch: (has to smile) True. How did he die?

Skakid: Your contact?

INT. CRICKET GROUND - CLUB HOUSE - DAY

Questecure backs up to a washbasin, turns on the tap, throws water on his sweating face. His eyes never leave the door. Suddenly, a burst of cheering from outside. Questecure instincively brings his gun up. A second door, behind him, crashes open. Skakid. He spins, but Skakid grabs him, knocks the gun out of his hand.

Questecure attacks. The two tumble into the stalls. The fight is chaotic, both men trying to hit eachother in a confined space until the stall partitions fold like dominoes. They fall into the shower room. Questecure fights like a madman until finally Skakid forces his head into the basin, now overflowing with water. Skakid holds his head under until the body stops writhing and kicking. Not a clean kill by any means. He lets the body slide to the floor, steps back, considering the dead man. Hating him for making him feel this so much like...killing.

INT. MODERN OFFICE - NIGHT

Skakid: Not well.

Mitch: Made you feel it, did he? (sees the truth in Skakid's eyes) Well, no worries, the second is -

Skakid raises his silenced Walther and fires, cutting off the words before they reach Mitch's lips.

Skakid: Yes. Considerably.

Skakid holsters his weapon and heads for the door.

INT. CRICKET GROUND - RESTROOM - DAY

Skakid heads to retrieve his gun. Senses movement. Glimpses Questecure's reflection, aiming a pistol at Skakid's back.

Framed against white tiles, Skakid whirls and fires one shot from the Walther. We are looking along the inside of the barrel of Questecure's gun.

Red blood starts to flow down the screen. Iconic Skakid logo.



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