Wednesday, February 14, 2007

If *I* Had Written ATTACK OF THE CYBERMEN (3)

Ironically I was planning to open this post with a crack about how much I love these "If *I* had written" posts, as all I have to do is press CTRL+V to get a blog post done. But this one gave me a few headaches... gawd love Blogger they like to give you a decent challenge.

Anyway, fic. Here. Now.



TOTTER'S LANE

(The detector is beeping more and more persistently)

THE DOCTOR: Warm, Peri, very very warm!

PERI: Really?

THE DOCTOR: Yes, scalding! BOILING! We are RIGHT on top of it!

PERI (sighing) Doctor?

THE DOCTOR: Yes?

(Peri wordlessly points to the gates to Foreman's junkyard.)

THE DOCTOR: Ah...

PERI: We've been going around in circles.

THE DOCTOR: A circle. Signular, Peri. Makes all the difference. Besides, this is where we should be - with the TARDIS I can boost the range, get a more accurate reading.

PERI: If that gizmo even works.

THE DOCTOR: Of course it does! It was programmed to find a time ship and it did - just got the wrong one. Machines make those kind of silly mistakes.

PERI: (Under her breath) They're not the only ones.

(Peri pulls out her TARDIS key and goes into the junkyard. The Doctor, however, does not follow her as he double-takes when he sees the van parked across the street.)

THE DOCTOR: ... they've been parked there a long time...


FOREMAN'S JUNKYARD

(Peri walks towards the TARDIS doors, but stops right in front of it and stares around her when she hears a clattering noise somewhere in the yard...)


TOTTER'S LANE

(The Doctor is now by the van. He gingerly slides open the back of the van, and peers in. He pulls out Bill's clipboard and reads through it very quickly, before putting it back in the van. He then opens the thermos and feels the fluid inside. He looks concerned.)


FOREMAN'S JUNKYARD

(We see Peri from someone else's POV, behind a sheet of iron. Peri turns around to face them but as she does so the person ducks out of sight.)

PERI: (VO) Hey! I saw you! Doctor! There's someone here!


TOTTER'S LANE

(The Doctor hears Peri's call and drops the thermos before running into the yard. He fails to notice the black car with tinted windows pulling up in clear view behind him.)


FOREMAN’S JUNKYARD

(The Doctor runs up to Peri)

THE DOCTOR: What is it?

PERI: (pointing) Over there!

THE DOCTOR: (calling to the point she indicated) Come on out! I don’t care if you’re alien, robot or in between, I’ve seen them all, but I hate to talk over distances like this.

(A "policeman" emerges)

THE DOCTOR: Hullo, Officer. Strange hiding spot but I can assure you I have no interest at all in what you may have been doing there. Nice day, isn't it?

(He is silent)

THE DOCTOR: Okay, I'll avoid the niceties. Have you noticed anything unusual on your rounds?

PERI: Doctor… I don’t think he’s really a policeman…

(The "policeman" steps towards them...)

THE DOCTOR: You're quite close enough, thank you.

PERI: Doctor, who is this freak?

(The "policeman" continues walking towards them, as they back away)

THE DOCTOR: I don't know. (To the policeman) Who are you, you freak?

(Peri screams as the second "Policeman" grabs her around the neck from behind, and pulls her away. The Doctor is left on his own, with one "policeman" either side.)

THE DOCTOR: Oh, I see how it works. Two on one. You're not very brave are you... whatever you are. Well, luckily I am.


LYTTON’S ROOM

(As before)

LYTTON: I can see no value in the... Doctor....

(Lytton begins to phase out. The blue crystalline aliens swim into his vision.)

CRYONS: Peace! Peace! We want to live in peace!!

(Lytton is in pain, but clearly recomposes himself. The voices fade into the distance.)



FOREMAN’S JUNKYARD

(As before)

PERI: Doctor, stop grandstanding! (to Policemen) Which one of you creeps wants to dance?

THE DOCTOR: Peri, your venacular won't help anything!

(The Doctor moves towards the "policeman" holding Peri, but in a flash both "policemen" pull out silenced pistols.)

THE DOCTOR (shocked) You shouldn't have those! You're very bad policemen!

PERI (panicky) Doctor!

(The “policeman’ nearest the TARDIS gestures first to the Doctor, then to the TARDIS doors with his pistol)

THE DOCTOR: You… want me to open the doors?

(The “policeman” nods)

THE DOCTOR: I’m getting a strange feeling of de-ja vu right now…

(The “policeman” cocks the pistol menacingly. The Doctor moves to the door and starts going through his pockets.)

PERI: What are they?

THE DOCTOR: If I had to guess, I’d say robots, Peri. Now just try to stay calm and…

(A new voice sounds, and we see a gun barrel placed against the back of the ‘policeman’ guarding the Doctors head.)

SCOTT (V.O) The game’s up, mate.

(We see the new-comer, the man in the plaid jacket from the black car earlier, this man is called SCOTT. His friend in the black suit is also there, marking the bogus policeman holding Peri. The Doctor turns around and doesn’t know whether to be relieved or anxious.)

THE DOCTOR: My my… so many guns in such a small place…

(The bogus policeman who was guarding the Doctor spins around surprisingly quickly and knocks the gun out of Scott’s hand. Scott grabs ahold of the arm holding the silenced pistol, however, and twists it around so it isn’t facing him. The Doctor brings his fists down on the policeman’s head from behind, which knocks him out. The second policeman, clearly not liking the odds, pushing Peri into the be-suited man marking him and runs off into the depths of the junkyard. The man in the suit moves to follow him, but Scott calls him back.)

SCOTT: Leave him!


LYTTON’S ROOM

(As before. Lytton looks slightly drained and very annoyed)

LYTTON: So much for that.

COMPUTER: There is a high probability of success in attempting to gain access to the time craft…

LYTTON: I’m not going to try holding two operations together at once. We shall carry on as planned.


FOREMAN’S JUNKYARD

SCOTT: (looking down at the fallen policeman) Let’s have a look at our friend here.

PERI: You saved our lives!

(Scott ignores her and pulls out a long black, pointed device from his jacket, whilst crouching down near the bogus policeman’s body. The man in the suit moves closer to watch)

THE DOCTOR: Is that a sonic lance?

SCOTT: Yes.

(He activates the device, and it makes a low whirring noise while buttons on the handle glow. He moves it around the ‘policeman’s face, which, after a short times warps and becomes a sleek, grey, and rather dull looking robot. Peri is stunned.)

PERI: (Quietly) Kamelion?

(The Doctor hastily makes a gesture to silence her. Scott, who doesn't notice the brief exchange, is unfazed by all this and pulls out a walke-talkie.)

SCOTT: Sergeant Scott, reporting from target zone. Hostile android de-activated, proceeding with interview of Persons of Interest on the scene, over.

(There is a crackled acknowledgement. Scott stands and faces the Doctor. The two size each other up wordlessly. Scott then reaches out and feels the Doctor’s neck, and his chest.)

THE DOCTOR: (miffed) Can I help you?

SCOTT: Erratic pulse, bio-cardiovascular system. (smiles) You’re as alien as they come.

THE DOCTOR: And you’re as human as they come, ‘Sergeant Scott’.

SCOTT: You’re coming with us. Both of you.

(The Doctor puts his hands on his hips)

THE DOCTOR: Really? And why, pray tell, would I do that?

SCOTT (to man in suit) Private!

(The man in the suit nods, and pulls out a taser.)

THE DOCTOR: There's no need for-

(Too late. It shoots and hits him in the chest. He falls down in obvious pain. Peri backs away, looking ready to run, but she gets hit as well.)


LYTTON’S LOCK-UP, CORRIDOR

(Griffiths knocks on Lytton's door, but it opens immediately before he's managed his second knock, visibly catching him off-guard.)

LYTTON: Yes?

GRIFFITHS: Er... you're not busy?

LYTTON: I am. Very. But I gather there's something you want to talk about?

GRIFFITHS: Yeah, I...

(Griffiths trails off. He's having trouble looking at Lytton face-to-face.)

GRIFFITHS: Do you know about what happened with Joe?

LYTTON: That he was sighted? Of course.

GRIFFITHS: Oh.

LYTTON: It's my business to know these things, Mr Griffiths. And, rest assured, it does concern me. Between you and I, I have decided that this shall be our final job.

GRIFFITHS: Really?

LYTTON: I would be grateful if you did not mention it to Mr Payne, however.

GRIFFITHS: How can I not? Our last job... it's major stuff.

LYTTON: That it is. But he'll know it's the end soon enough.

GRIFFITHS: I don't know how Joe will take it...

LYTTON: He will be changed man, Mr Lytton. It will mean nothing to him.

(Griffiths gives Lytton an uncertain look)

GRIFFITHS: Right...

LYTTON: Now, if that is all I have work to do.

GRIFFITHS: Well...

(Lytton shuts the door in his face)



LYTTON’S ROOM

(Lytton sits back down in front of the computer)

LYTTON: Have you been able to establish a more stable com-link with my target?

COMPUTER: Negative.

(Lytton ponders this)

LYTTON: Will you be able to send a data-link record to them?

COMPUTER: That would have a high probability of success.

LYTTON: Good.

(Lytton checks his watch)

LYTTON: Broadcast continuously until halted precisely half-an-hour from now. It’s vital contact is made above all else.

COMPUTER: Confirmed.


TELOS SURFACE

(A rocky slope. Bates, Stratton and Proser are all present – they are still wearing their blue uniforms, but by now they are grimy and torn. Clearly they’ve been here some time. All three are crouched low, clearly worried about being seen.)

BATES: What're they using it for?

PROSER: If I had to guess, I'd say an invasion.

STRATTON: Why?

PROSER: Lots of troops, and they don't seem to be expending them.

BATES: Doesn't seem like much to go on...

PROSER: That's not all. They took me through their dock. Hundreds of shuttles, hundreds of the damn things. Most looked to be empty and unfuelled.

STRATTON: So you're saying they've been calling everyone back here?

PROSER: Looks that way.

BATES: A time invasion? Could stress the rift badly.

PROSER (shrugs) They reckon they got it anchored with some mystery program of theirs. Don't ask me how - I don't think they even know what they're doing. Bunch of amateurs.

BATES: So... what's the plan then? We bust up their machinery and the TSS, then find ourselves a shuttle?

(PROSER and STRATTON look confused)

STRATTON: Why would we do that?

BATES: (Stunned) Don't you remember the lectures on the Ethics of Time Travel? A temporal invasion breaks the whole lot! We can't leave this lot with ANY time-sensitive technology.

(PROSER looks uneasy. STRATTON is incredulous)

PROSER: Well... yeah, but... this is a matter of life and death, Bates. We don't have an army on our side here. We've got no weapons, no resources, no chance. Our lives come before heroics, as far as I'm concerned.

STRATTON: Too right they do! Bates, screw your head on. This invasion's the best thing that could happen to us. If they're going somewhere else, the base will soon be nearly empty, and with that rift opened up and getting traffic the Time Lords won't notice us slipping back out in the TSS - we're home and dry.

BATES: IF there's a home to go back to! How do we even know what Hatre Sedtry will be like with these idiots messing around with time travel? The whole planet could be nothing but ash!

(STRATTON grabs onto BATES and stands over him)

STRATTON: LISTEN, Bates - what are you?

(Bates has clearly been through this before)

BATES: First technician.

STRATTON: Correct. You are the First Technician. And what am I, Bates? Hmm?

BATES: (with a sigh) Flight leader.

STRATTON: Correct again. I am the Flight Leader. I am your commanding officer. And I am Proser's commanding officer. And I say we follow our mission to the letter. And what is our mission, Bates?

BATES: To issue a full technical report to the Research Commission after a successful navigation of the TSS.

(Stratton looks at him expectantly)

BATES: At whatever cost.

(It's an uneasy moment. PROSER breaks it after a look at his watch)

PROSER: Alright, mates, our five-minute window's over. We gotta get back to the work party before the patrolling scout comes back.

(STRATTON nods and moves off straight away, while PROSER moves back to watch over the ridge to see if it's clear. BATES sullenly gets up to follow. PROSER calls out to him as he leaves)

PROSER: Hey, Eregous!

(BATES turns around)

PROSER: I just wanted you to know that I'm on your side, for what it's worth... it's just there's nothing we can do.

BATES (nods) Right. Well, thanks for that, Raltus.

PROSER: Any time.


LONDON – DELTECH BUILDING

(The black car drives towards an impressive building in an upmarket block that is slightly secluded - it has walls and an internal roundabout for cars. There is clearly visible a sign that identifies it as "DELTECH" When the black car drives in, however, it doesn't stop anywhere near the official-looking entrance, but instead drives around the side of the building to what looks like an entrance for the warehouse, with a sliding metal door in the side of the building. There are a couple of jeeps and trucks already there with the familiar UNIT insignia. As Scott and the plain-clothes soldier get out of the car several uniformed soldiers come out from the warehouse entrance and, after recieving inaudible instructions from Scott, open up the car and carry the Doctor and Peri, who are unconscious and limp, in with them. With an approving look, Scott follows them through the entrance.)


DELTECH WAREHOUSE

(The soldiers lay down the Doctor and Peri amidst some non-descript packing crates. Scott enters closely behind them and is welcomed by a female corporal named Carver.)

CARVER: Who're this lot, sir?

SCOTT: No idea, but they were they shouldn't have been. Plus the bloke's an alien.

(Scott undoes his tie and takes off his sunglasses straight away.)

CARVER: Shall I pass the word to the captain?

SCOTT: I'll take care of that. These two need to go into custody.

(Scott takes off jacket - he's clearly uncomfortable in plain clothes and eager to get back into uniform.)

CARVER: Where? We don't exactly have cells here...

SCOTT: There'll be doors with locks around here somewhere, corporal.

CARVER: Sir. May I ask if there's been any word from the Lieutenant?

SCOTT: You may, and there hasn't, corporal.

(Carver looks worried, but is distracted as Peri starts groaning. Carver takes her hand.)

CARVER: She's coming to, sir.

SCOTT: I can see that. I'd best handle this, corporal.

CARVER: Sir.

PERI - Any chance of you gung-ho idiots telling me what's going on here?

SCOTT - Of course. We're putting you into a temporary protective custody. Nothing to be worried about.

PERI - You drugged me! That's your idea of 'protection'?

SCOTT - You refused to come quietly so we took precautions.

PERI (In Disbelief) Who are you people?

SCOTT - UNIT.

(The Doctor snaps conscious in a second)

THE DOCTOR - UNIT? As in the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce?

SCOTT: You had enough chloroform to knock out a rhinoceros!

THE DOCTOR: I'm not a rhinoceros. So you're the new face of UNIT, eh? Kidnap people on the streets often, do you?

SCOTT: Only aliens.

THE DOCTOR: Aliens are people too!

PERI: You guys know about aliens?

SCOTT: Yes, they're our field of expertise.

THE DOCTOR: Or killing them, to be precise.

SCOTT: When necessary, yes.

THE DOCTOR: That's a matter of opinion. May I know the name of my arresting officer?

SCOTT: Scott. Sergeant. (to Carver) Take him to an interrogation room, I'll be with him shortly.

CARVER: Sir.

(Carver pulls the Doctor up and leads him along the corridor)

PERI: Hey! He's my friend!

SCOTT: If he's innocent he has nothing to fear.

PERI: (Sarcastic) Yeah, when has anything bad ever happened to someone who's innocent?

SCOTT: (To Private) Keep an eye on her until Carver can deal with her. I’ve got to report to the Captain.

PRIVATE: Sir.


MORTIMER'S OFFICE

(The light and airy office of Professor Rupert Mortimer, the owner of Deltech and clearly quite a well-off man. The room is predominantly white and is decorated with various abstract sculptures and paintings. MORTIMER himself sits behind a glass curved desk in a large chair, right next to his prized personal computer. Sitting opposite him is CAPTAIN LARKHILL, the commanding officer of the present UNIT troops.)

LARKHILL: On behalf of UNIT, Professor, I'd like to thank you for your support of this operation.

MORTIMER: Well, I wasn't exactly under the impression that I had a choice in the matter.

LARKHILL: Not really, no. But we're generally used to more resistance.

MORTIMER: Oh. You assume control of research facilities often?

LARKHILL: We do.

MORTIMER: (dryly) Charming. But at any rate myself and all other members of the scientific community are quite eager to see this Lytton fellow locked up.

LARKHILL: As are we.

MORTIMER: An unthinkable state of affairs, when a common criminal can bring the scientific interests of a nation nearly to stand still with petty vandalism! What amazes me more is the police seem powerless to stop him!

LARKHILL: We suspect he has contacts within the police force.

MORTIMER: Nothing would surprise me. But how does this man interest the United Nations? Is he... a war criminal... a foreign fugitive?

LARKHILL: Possibly both.

(Mortimer looks disgusted)

MORTIMER: He sounds monstrous.

(Scott enters, and quickly salutes)

SCOTT: Ma'am.

LARKHILL: At ease, sergeant.

SCOTT: Erm, sorry ma'am but is he...

LARKHILL: Cleared? More or less.

SCOTT: Checked the target area as suggested, captain.

MORTIMER: Target area?

LARKHILL: (to Mortimer) We detected some… foreign technology. (to Scott) And?

SCOTT: Well…

(Scott uncertainly indicates Mortimer. Larkhill fobs it off)

LARKHILL: Continue, Sergeant.

SCOTT: We disabled a chameleonic android, but another unit escaped.

MORTIMER: Sorry, did you say ‘Android’ just then?

SCOTT: And we’ve arrested an alien we found on the scene.

MORTIMER: An alien?

LARKHILL: What sort of alien?

MORTIMER: As in... a foreigner?

SCOTT: Humanoid, ma’am.

MORTIMER: Humanoid?

LARKHILL: I'd appreciate it if you didn't interrupt, Professor.

SCOTT: He’s got two hearts. Other than that he appears almost indiscernible to a human, ma'am. Only his clothing suggests otherwise.

LARKHILL: (smiling)You been to Carnaby Street recently, sergeant?

MORTIMER: (to himself, worried now) You're actually talking about extraterrestrial beings? My god, a bunch of madmen with guns have taken over my offices!

(They ignore him)

LARKHILL: Any witnesses?

SCOTT: Pretty quiet. There had been workmen in the area but they seemed to have cleared off – but there was a young girl with him.

LARKHILL: Abducted?

SCOTT: She didn’t seem to think so.

LARKHILL: Keep her in protective custody, we need to find out her story somehow. Get Carver to talk to her, she’s friendly, bound to wring something out.

SCOTT: Ma’am.

LARKHILL: Luckily with our alien friend we can take a much more direct approach. I want you to give him the five degrees, and I’ll be with you shortly.

SCOTT: Right you are, ma'am.

(He salutes Larkhill, and turns to go. As an afterthought he nods to Mortimer.)

SCOTT: We'll try to keep out of your way, Professor.

(Scott exits)

MORTIMER: Yes, I would appreciate that... (to Larkhill) Aliens?

LARKHILL: Don't spread it around. Need to know basis. Besides, everyone will think you're mad. Now, what were we talking about before the Sergeant interrupted us?

MORTIMER: I... erm... I don't remember.

LARKHILL: Really? Then I suggest you get on with your vital work, Professor.

MORTIMER: Indeed.



LYTTON'S LOCK-UP

(There is a knock on the door. Griffiths opens it to reveal VINCE RUSSLL, a man in his thirties who is dressed all in black. He looks eager and is gripping a camo backpack.)

RUSSELL: Charlie, mate, good to see ya!

GRIFFITHS: Get in off the street, you pillock!

(Griffiths all but pulls him through the doorway. Russell is taken aback.)

GRIFFITHS: You always try to make a discreet entrance. (to Payne) Joe, go tell the Boss.

(Payne walks into the corridor leading to Lytton's office, but as soon as he does so Lytton barges past him. Once Lytton has entered the room the mood changes - Payne instantly discards and stubs out his cigarette, and seemingly stands to attention. Griffiths also straightens up. Russell seems slightly more nervous. Lytton surveys them all for a moment, letting the silence hang in the air.)

LYTTON: You're late.

(Russell holds up the backpack)

RUSSELL: I got the stuff.

LYTTON: So I should hope. Mr Russell you have already met Mr Griffiths. This is Mr Payne. And you know who I am, don't you?

RUSSELL: Yes. Yes I do.

LYTTON: Then let's not waste any time.


KITCHEN

(A decidedly non-descript canteen kitchen. Pots and pans and cups and other items of culinary flotsam abound - a lot of untidy soldiers have been using it. Carver and Peri enter through a pair of double doors. Carver leans up against the wall and rest her rifle alongisde herself. Peri looks at a loss.)

PERI: What are we doing here?

CARVER: Keeping out of the way. Officially it's called 'protective custody', but you don't want to pay attention to anything official. You should get yourself a chair, could be here a while.

(Peri looks around for something to sit on, and finds herself a milk crate.)

PERI: What is this place anyway?

CARVER: A kitchen.

(Peri rolls her eyes)

PERI: No, the-

CARVER: (grinning) I know. This place is DelTech. Freelance research facility.

PERI: Right. And what are you people doing here?

CARVER: Guard duty, mostly.

PERI: Guarding from what?

CARVER: Need-to-know basis, I'm afraid. Almost everything is in this job.

PERI: But something to do with aliens, isn't it?

(Carver isn't saying anything)

PERI: Me and the Doctor.. when we came here we saw evidence that a ship landed here.

CARVER: really?

PERI: Yeah. A time ship.

CARVER: I can tell you there haven't been any UFOs. Well, actually there's been plenty, but none that could be connected. Not unless your aliens hitchhiked from Staffordshire.

PERI: But what are you guarding?

CARVER: This is a research facility.

PERI: Yeah, I heard what you said, but aliens who can travel through time and space will hardly be interested in anything humans develop. Trust me, I know one.

CARVER (nods admiringly) You are good.

PERI: Maybe. But I still asked you a question.

CARVER: It's like I said before - need to know.

PERI: Right. And are you on the need to know list?

CARVER: (grinning) Nowhere near it.


DEL-TECH, BREAK ROOM

(A small room of the various sort that exist in work environments, often for temporary offices, but right now it has been consciously dimmed in its lighting in an attempt to convert into an interrogation room. The Doctor looks suitably unimpressed, sitting with his arms folded, larger than life, at the end of a long table. Scott enters, now in his UNIT fatigues.)

THE DOCTOR - Ah, sergeant. Lost the suit, I see. A small but significant triumph for your personal dignity.

SCOTT - It was nothing but a security precaution. We wouldn't want to alarm the public.

THE DOCTOR - I think you'd have alarmed plenty of people with that plaid monstrosity!

SCOTT - I don't really think you're one to talk...

THE DOCTOR - Oh, but I AM, Sergeant Scott, I am. Once you get to know me you'll find out just how much I do love to talk!

SCOTT (losing patience) - Yeah, well, now's the time to stop!

THE DOCTOR - In an interrogation? I knew I had the RIGHT to remain silent but I had no idea it was a preference!

(Scott looks confused for a moment but soon turns stern again)

SCOTT - You know what I mean!

THE DOCTOR - Of course I do, sergeant. You mean only to do your job. And do it well. That's why I've decided to help you. To make it nice and easy. What would you like to know?

(Scott is about to speak but the Doctor cuts him off)

THE DOCTOR - No! Don't tell me - that'd spoil all the fun! Okay, you want to know about the girl I 'abducted'. I didn't, simple as that. She wanted to come travel with me so I let her - time travel, I should add, just in case you've checked the records and found her on any old missing persons reports. And yes, I confess, I am an alien. Called the Doctor. JUST "the Doctor". No name, thank you, I get by fine without one. Surprised you don't remember me, in fact, I happened to be around during all that business with the Daleks - sorry for how that worked out, by the way. If you'd care to dig around a bit I should be on your files I was your scientific advisor back in... (thinks) well, I can't keep track of the dates myself but it wasn't THAT long ago... look under the files of Lethbridge-Stewart - that's S-T-E-W-A-R-T - Brigadier General, had a funny-looking moustache, uppity voice. What am I doing here? Investigating a space-time anomaly, could be very important, by which I mean could destroy the entire planet in the wrong hands, so I'd be grateful if you let me get back onto it as soon as possible. Did that cover everything?

(Scott is dutifully writing it all down in a notepad. He doesn't look up.)

SCOTT: Just about. But there's one more very important question...

THE DOCTOR: Milk, no sugar thank you.

(Scott raises his head and looks the Doctor in the eye)

SCOTT: What connection do you have with Lytton?

(The Doctor's expression darkens. This is no longer a game)

THE DOCTOR: So… you know about Lytton, too.

SCOTT: You admit to knowing him?

THE DOCTOR: Oh, we met once. It wasn't pleasant. I thought he was dead. Wishful
thinking, it now appears.


LYTTON’S LOCK-UP

(For a few seconds the screen is dark, but then the darkness folds away to reveal the calm form of Lytton who reaches towards the audience and pulls out a large automatic rifle. As the camera shifts we see he is reaching into one of the large lockers in the corner of the lock-up. He hands the rifle to Russell, who is standing beside him.)

RUSSELL: (incredulously) What is THAT?

LYTTON: Your weapon.

PAYNE: (grinning) Weapon and a 'alf that is. How long have you had those around, boss?

LYTTON: Since the beginning. I knew we'd need them some day.

(He hands the next rifle to Payne)

RUSSELL: This is a bit much for a robbery, ain't it?

LYTTON: Armed robbery is armed robbery, Mr Russell. We'll be inside for a long time if we're caught. These are our insurance against that happening. Besides, high security, high firepower.

(Lytton gives Griffiths the last rifle)

GRIFFITHS: Simple mathematics, really.

(Payne is admiring his rifle proudly)

PAYNE: The Kalashinakov 47... traditional Soviet design. Light-weight weapon with a nice, heavy payload. Firing rate - 600 rounds per minute, with a range of 328 yards.

LYTTON: Correct.

RUSSELL: (to Payne) You seem quite the expert.

PAYNE: Ah, it's all just a few things I've picked up from my magazines. Great weapons these are. Priviledge, it is, getting to fire one of these babies.

(Russell weighs the rifle in his hand, looking a bit disconcerted)

RUSSELL: I'd rather take your word for it...

GRIFFITHS: What's the matter, boy? Afraid of a few fireworks?

LYTTON: Mr Griffiths, may I remind you who chose Mr Russell for this job?

GRIFFITHS: Right. Sorry boss.

(Russell shifts uneasily)

RUSSELL: No, it's alright. I can handle myself. Just a few jitters, that's all. I get them before jobs like these.

GRIFFITHS: (to Lytton) So when exactly is this job, anyway?

RUSSELL: Yeah, you've been a bit cagey about that...

LYTTON: Have I? Publicity isn't a good thing in this business, Mr Russell, you don't know who might hear things.

RUSSELL: Yeah, of course...

LYTTON: But to answer the question, the job's today.

PAYNE: (nods) Just like I thought.

RUSSELL: Today?

GRIFFITHS: No time like the present, that's our motto.

RUSSELL: Are we talking this evening?

LYTTON: No. I'm talking in a couple of hours time.

RUSSELL: You can't pull a job that quickly!

(Payne and Griffiths are both looking very fed-up with the newcomer. Lytton steps closer to Russell, looking deadly-serious, forcing the smaller man to back away)

LYTTON: I can't, Mr Russell? Really? And why would that be? Do we have the explosives?

RUSSELL: Well, yeah...

LYTTON: Do we have the guns?

RUSSELL: Of course...

LYTTON: And I have the plan. So just what is the problem? Lunch dates? Hair-dressing appointments? I hired you for a very good reason, Mr Russell, and I was lead to believe you could do your job and do it well. I would hate for my trust in you to be misplaced.

(All eyes are on Russell. He's not backing down.)

RUSSELL: It isn't. I'll do the job.

LYTTON: And do it well.

RUSSELL: (smiling) That goes without saying.

GRIFFITHS: (grimly) Not necessarily.

(Lytton opens up a locker-chest on the floor and pulls out a sheaf of papers which he unfurls on a card table. Pointing to the uppermost diagram, he begins to speak in an authorative tone of voice.)

LYTTON: This is how we get to the job - (to Payne and Griffiths) your usual ostentatious vehicle will not be required on this ocassion - through the sewers.

RUSSELL: (half to himself) I hadn't thought of that...

LYTTON: Nobody does, that's the beauty of it. Our entry point (pointing at map) is here. Beneath this very lock-up - the access point is ready.

GRIFFITHS: Since when?

LYTTON: Occassionally I like to do work by myself, Mr Griffiths. A little digging is hardly beyond me. (Pointing at another point on the map) Our entry point to the job is here.

GRIFFITHS: Through the wall?

LYTTON: There's no other way. The building is very well guarded. A sub-terranean approach is the only certain way to both avoid detection and sucessfully infiltrate the building.

PAYNE: But we're using explosives - hardly inconspicuous.

LYTTON: Astute as ever, Mr Payne. But I've already considered the point. That is why there shall be two explosive charges. One of which, obviously, will be used to blast the wall apart and give us our entry point. The other, however, shall be placed here (pointing at map) on a corner stone bearing. Due to the strength of the bearing there will be no structural damage but it shuld set off every alarm in a four block radius, possibly even further. Complete chaos, the police won't know where to begin looking. In and out.

GRIFFITHS: That's brilliant.

LYTTON: (Casually) Yes, it is. From this point on, however, I rely on you.

(He unfolds another of the maps - this one is an architectural plan)

LYTTON: Floor plans for the building. The stairwell at the rear will be our target once we come out of the basement... I have a diversion already arranged in the foyer.

PAYNE: This a big job, boss.

LYTTON: Did I ever say otherwise?

PAYNE: No, but... I gotta know: What's this all for?

4 comments:

Youth of Australia said...

It's still brilliant.

...

Sorry, but I used up all my superaltives during the creative process.

Jared "No Nickname" Hansen said...

Yeah, I know man. You're not really obliged to comment, what with not only already having read it but also helping me edit it as well...

Youth of Australia said...

It's still cool.

And I'm just keeping the metaphorical seat warm until all the groupies turn up.

Youth of Australia said...

Wild horses couldn't keep me away.

Window crashes maybe, but wild horses? No Chance.