Episode 2: Raid on Nelson Mandela House & A Skull in the Sky

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[size=200]Evil Born Evil[/size]
Series: 01
Episode: 02
This is a remake of an episode aired previously. This episode originally aired on July 18th, 2011.
Written by: Luke Enfield
Produced by: Crimson Media
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[warning]AGE RATING: 15+
CONTAINS: STRONG LANGUAGE, STRONG VIOLENCE, BLOOD.[/warning]



I don't know. I can't explain it. Don't come crying to me if you don't know a darn thing. I'm in the same boat as you. The same boat that is heading in the most feared direction. That direction which will result in us having a hard time trying to find our way back. Yeah, that direction. You know the one.



Marcus: Barker. Barker. Rod Barker... come on... ugh. Is it that hard to find him? I mean, it's not like you can't miss him.



Marcus: W... wait a minute...!



Marcus: SON!

(Child laughing echoes)



Marcus: JAKE! CAN YOU HEAR ME!?
Jake: Dad! You're being really silly daddy!
Marcus: Why!? What have I done!? Tell me!
Jake: Do you think I can hear you?
Marcus: This dream is weird enough to support that, so, yeah I guess you can!
Jake: Whatever you say, think, or do... nobody can hear you. You are immune from the outside world, as is the outside world from you, daddy!
Marcus: Jake! Can you hear me!?
Jake: ... (blows bubbles and giggles)



Jake: Think of your sins, daddy. Just think.
Marcus: WHAT!?



Think of your sins, Marcus. Oh, please daddy, just think about them. There's got to be something. If you break something, that doesn't mean you can't fix something! Or, at least people are able to think that...



The devil is out there.





Luca: You was supposed to keep your bloody eye on the bastard, Jenkins!
P.C Jenkins: What do you expect me to do!? Guard the bastard 24/7? No thanks... it begs the question on how the hell he got out!
Luca: You could've done something!
P.C Jenkins: No, I couldn't have! But I know you lot could've!
Luca: So this is all our fault, is it? We make the efforts to put him there and yet this is our fault? Well, ok Jenkins. Thank you very much. Glad to hear your support.
P.C Jenkins: You need to invest in... re-working this place. It's dated.
Luca: That's down to money.
P.C Jenkins: I don't know how he could've got out, honestly!



Luca: Just accept the fact that you're a bastard.
P.C Jenkins: At times, yes. But not for this Tennyson.
Luca: We'll see. Thanks a bunch.
P.C Jenkins: You're welcome.



Marcus: Uh, is there something wrong?
P.C Jenkins: Ah, there we are! Here's another of them! This bastard of yours right here is accusing me of everything known to man! Never mind the other bastard at large!
Marcus: Who at large!? And who are...
Luca: Ah, Detective Inspector Redford. I'm also a Detective Inspector. Detective Inspector Luca Tennyson. Don't worry, I'm new.
Marcus: Why would I need to worry, anyway?
Luca: Well... there's always a worry to everything, isn't there? Never no downsides to it, is there? (Chuckles)
Marcus: ... where's Dellucci?



Luca: Erm... gone.
Marcus: I'm sorry? Gone... where exactly?
Luca: Gone... as in... gone. Vanished.
Marcus: Is he in the building?
Luca: ...
Marcus: Is he in his bloody cell?



Luca: No.
Marcus: Oh.
Luca: Yep.
Marcus: Is there anything else to say?
Luca: Cramham City beat the Rovers last night...
Marcus: Do I even care?
Luca: (Intimidated) Erm... maybe not. I don't know. Do you?



Marcus: ...
Luca: No?
Marcus: Like fuck I do. Now, Mr...
Luca: Tennyson. Detective Inspector Tennyson.
Marcus: Well DI Tennyson, looks like we better get you to work, don't you think?
Luca: So it seems.



Rod: Ugh. Why do I bother, hey?



Luca: Ah, gov.
Rod: Hello Tennyson. How are you today beautiful?
Luca: Good, gov.
Rod: Splendid.
Luca: You?
Rod: Elated.
Luca: Good to hear.
Rod: I know.
Luca: Want something to drink?
Rod: No.
Luca: Oh, ok!



Rod: Do you want to know something, Tennyson?
Luca: Well, I suppose.
Rod: Delluccio has gone.
Luca: I know.
Rod: Well, then you know nothing new then. It seems to me then that every bastard but me knew. I'm the last soul to know that the Azarian bastard has made a run for it, and I'm in charge of this whole bloody operation!
Luca: Well...
Rod: And why are you slithering around this lot, Tennyson? It's your job to get down to work. That's why I put you here in the first place.
Luca: Sure, I don't mean no trouble.
Rod: Do you want to go back to Lystow?
Luca: No, gov.
Rod: Then I suggest you act like it then!



Luca: Ok, gov.
Rod: Good boy. Now, welcome Tennyson.
Luca: Thank you.
Rod: I hope we can soon get you equipped and raring to go here at Cramham. I'm sure you'll settle in just fine. This place does just justice for ex-Lystowers. Did you have fun down there?
Luca: A bastard got his leg sawn off after a Singular Rain concert, gov.
Rod: Bloody nora. I know that guitar player is higher than the bloody Faunton Boys Choir, but I don't think he'd have it in him to chop a bloody leg off with his guitar.
Luca: Oh, no gov. He went to see a barber surgeon and he missed.
Rod: Twathead on a twig... didn't know they had those still around!
Luca: Neither did I, gov. Until I saw the poor bugger. It didn't look like he got out too much.
Rod: Doesn't surprise me.



Rod: Anyway, you'll have a better gig up here for sure. Always knew northerners were nicer than those southerners. Bastards are made of brute up here.
Luca: Indeed.



Jasper: What are you lot going on about? Get a bloody move on, there's work to be getting on with!



Jasper: Ah, hello Tennyson.
Luca: Morning Jasper. How are you?
Jasper: On top of the world, sunshine. You?
Luca: Same.
Marcus: That's what he thinks...
Jasper: I'm sorry, Redford?
Marcus: Oh, nothing.
Jasper: Move your arses, gents.



Jasper: He left without a trace. The bastard.
Rod: These mafia bastards must have brains. That or else they get it from somebody else.



Jasper: They don't seem the dumbfuck type, Barker. But there's got to be something.
Marcus: Was this place being kept guard?
Jasper: From what I understand, no... but I still don't get how he got out in the bloody first place.
Marcus: (Sighs)
Rod: I want every exit examined. I want eyewitnesses to come forward. I want to nail this bastard. He's up to something.
Marcus: He won't cause more damage. Trust me.



Luca: How can you be so sure, pal?
Marcus: Just keep your trap shut and let's see why.
Luca: Gov told me you northerners are nicer.
Marcus: I'm not a northerner.
Luca: Then why are you here then?
Marcus: I don't know. You tell me!
Rod: Redford, Tennyson... make your way to the Mer.
Luca: The Mer?
Rod: The Mer, the fucking Mighty Mer.
Marcus: Follow me. I think I know what he means.



Jasper: So, there progress with Marc?
Rod: We'll have to see. It's not a question of how, it's a question of when. I don't know what on Alterra's wrong with him.
Jasper: Hopefully he can redeem himself.
Rod: Tennyson's overwhelmed. Hopefully that should make things easier for him.
Jasper: We can hope. What's the plan, then?
Rod: To find the bastard.



Jasper: Well, I know that!
Rod: What is there to say then?
Jasper: Do me a favour.
Rod: Pfft... I don't do favours for any bugger.
Jasper: Trust me, Barker. Go to 14 Wharfdale House. Please.
Rod: This better be good.
Jasper: It will be.







Rod: Shut the door nicely, Tennyson.
Luca: Alright.
Marcus: Ugh. Dear me.



Marcus: Do we know exactly where we're going?
Rod: Not really sunshine, but I've an address.
Marcus: And what's that then?
Rod: 14 Wharfdale House. That's some nasty part of town, so I doubt they'd be sniffing around there.
Marcus: Right.
Rod: That's the thing with the mafia. They're like headlice.
Marcus: Really?
Rod: Yeah. Criminals are expected to hang out in the dirty and decrepid parts of town. They've obviously got nothing else to do but rob shit. I learnt that from my brother. Mafia like the high life though, don't they?
Marcus: And it relates to headlice, how exactly?
Rod: Well, you'd expect headlice to like dirty hair, but they prefer clean hair. Much like the mafia, you expect them to be down in the dumps.
Marcus: Well the three-piece suits and the fast cars aren't a given, gov.



Luca: Why are you talking about headlice?
Rod: Never you mind, Tennyson.
Luca: Oh, alright.
Marcus: Don't let it worry you. Hey, easy, easy... gov. Slow down, you're going way too fast.
Rod: Do you want to walk instead?
Marcus: No, just as much as I don't want to get hurt.
Rod: You're hurt in enough in that skull of yours. Deluded like that Kalevic bastard.
Luca: That's art.
Rod: Like chuff is it art, Tennyson.



Rod: And you can take that seatbelt off as well Tennyson! You're a police officer, not your bloody mother-in-law!



Luca: Well, I guess I like the north.



Rod: Hurry up you tards... you're getting the seats wet.
Marcus: Oh, well... I'm sorry gov. I'll just get out without opening the door shall I?
Rod: This is chuffing expensive upholstery, Marc. Shut up and get on with life.



Luca: This place looks absolutely marvelous.



Rod: Right you are, Luca-boy. They don't blend in too good at all.
Marcus: Evidence of the dumb lot.
Luca: Perhaps.
Rod: Well, I was thinking this fella is a pussy cat in comparison to the big cats. There's more of them. But we've got to find out where. And why this bastard is sniffing around our turf.
Marcus: I'm not sure about that, he seems kind of serious.
Rod: Murdering trespassers? No, that's not in the book.
Marcus: It's the ten commandments, is it not? He doesn't sound like some Marvegan-Azarian, I swear he's just came over the border.
Rod: Let's stand around here and have a lecture shall we? Or shall we do some chuffing bleeding work hey, Redford?





Marcus: Tennyson?
Luca: Yes?
Marcus: You see that door?
Luca: Well, I guess.
Marcus: It's yours.
Luca: Cheers.



Rod: Well don't just stand there you bloody daft-arse. You should know the drill... the Lystowers can't be so bad.
Marcus: Keep your voice down, gov.
Rod: Do you want me to point this thing down your throat?
Marcus: If it's for a good cause...
Rod: Oh yes. A very good one. Shutting the trap of bloody Professor No-nuts Redford.



Luca: Shut up. If I fuck this up I'm holding you two personally responsible.
Marcus: Just don't waste your time, please.



Rod: There's no need to fanny about, Tennyson. Just smash the bloody door in!







(KA-POW! KA-PEW!)





Mobster: What the fuck do you want!? You're not having him!



Rod: Thank you very much, my friend.



Rod: You've clarified it nice and clear.

(KA-POW!)





Marcus: So, I guess he's here then...



Rod: It's a bloody concrete jungle. A mystery, pal.
Marcus: Not if you have that attitude, it isn't.
Rod: So you reckon a man of forty-eight years old is going to climb ten million flights of stairs?
Marcus: There's a lift.
Rod: An unactive one, perhaps.





Rod: He's here. I had no idea what Lyons was planning for us. Thanks to him things are pretty straightforward. Just seek and destroy. Simple as that. Seek and destroy...



Rod: WOAH! BASTARD! GET TO COVER!



(Rat-at-at-at-at-at-at-at!)



(Shrapnel flies around to the sound of banging, clattering, and the screaming of the gunshots)



Luca: (Gasping) I don't want to go, guys. I've got nothing on him! Help me, please.



Marcus: (Shouting over noise) YOU NEED A LOT MORE COURAGE THAN THAT, TENNYSON!





(Rat-at-at-at-at-at-at-at! KA-POW! KA-POW! ...at-at-at!)

Marcus: AH, SON OF A BITCH!



(KA-PEW!)





Luca: Hey, you! Come on now! Sit up, man. You're gonna tell us where he is.
Mobster: Who?
Luca: What do you mean, 'who'?
Mobster: You're just trespassing...



Mobster: ...there ain't nobody here but ourselves, pal. And if I were you, I suggest you get a fucking move on. You're dead men walking. (Splutters)
Luca: Where is Delluccio?
Mobster: ...
Luca: Where is he!?



Rod: Dead?
Luca: Dead.
Rod: Ah, fuck it. Some climbing to do then, boys.
Marcus: What tells you he's going to be up there?
Rod: It's a tower block you bastard. The only way is up.



Mobster: DROP YOUR WEAPON, NOW!



(KA-POW!)

Rod: Fucking philistine...









Luca: Progress is good. Good. Progress is good, Luca.





Mobster: Fulvio, it is ah-ok. I have this under control.
Fulvio: You'd better. We're ever-quickly being closed in on by these bastards. I can sense it.
Mobster: Do you know a good way out?
Fulvio: I do - but that depends where they are.
Mobster: Let's just stick to the spirit shall we here? We run. We go?
Fulvio: Look, it can't be that simple. We don't know what these guys are capable of.
Mobster: Well, clearly-a not a good enough prison cell to hold a foot soldier like yourself.



Fulvio: You're barking up the wrong tree here. I am no foot soldier, unlike you.
Mobster: In the eyes you I may be... but what about in the eyes of the commision? You shouldn't even be here!
Fulvio: Maybe not. But that won't stop me.



Mobster: Are we ready to go?
Fulvio: Yeah. Look's like they have us everywhere on their radar. It's time to escape these fucking feds.
Mobster: Yeah, that's-ah the spirit! Fuck the feds!



Marcus: Let's say we check the roof then.
Rod: Ah, now we come to terms with the whole situation, Redford. Welcome to planet Alterra.



Marcus: Well, at least someone thought. This lift is worth a try, so after you ladies.



Rod: You kind bastard. Sod off up top there, Redford. Tennyson and I are going to the ground just to make sure they haven't legged it already.
Marcus: Great.
Luca: See you soon, Redford.



Marcus: Ciao.



Marcus: Ah. Thought so. I pay the price for their idiocy.



Marcus: What's with the clouds?

Maybe it's for a reason, you dimwit.



Marcus: A massive price to pay, it seems.







Rod: To the Mighty Mer, Tennyson!
Luca: Shit!



It's typical. Something has got to turn odd. It's a dream, right? Black skies don't usually mean something too good... and they never come about so quick.



Maybe you're missing the point, Marcus. Maybe there is a reason. There's a reason behind everything.



I mean, someone's got to suffer.



Marcus: Fuck-ing hell...!
Voice: Hello again Marcus.
Marcus: What do you mean, 'again'!? I've not seen no ridiculous head of a skeleton appear out of thin air in front of me before! As a matter of fact, why is this happening to me!? I SHOULDN'T BE IN THIS WORLD... SPEAKING TO... agh... DAMN HEADS OF SKELETONS. TELL ME WHY THIS DREAM CAN'T END!
Voice: Oh, we've met before. Many times. But I don't exist as a human. I exist as something though. Who said it is impossible to find out what though, hey Marcus?
Marcus: Can you help me?
Voice: Nope, only you.
Marcus: What!? How am I supposed to find my own way out of this!?
Voice: Work it out! It's straightforward. It's just a question of what, not when, where and why!
Marcus: And what about who, hey!?
Voice: Ah... who? I don't know.
Marcus: Someone has to know.
Voice: I'm not to be referred to as someone, Marcus. Only something.



Marcus: Where have you gone!? Come back! I've not finished yet!
Voice (fading): You said it, not me! You're far from the finish line, Marcus. It's possible not to even make it. It's down to you, my friend.
Marcus: (Gasping)







Mobster: Where now from here, Fulvio?
Fulvio: We sit and wait.
Mobster: I'm suspicious.
Fulvio: Don't be. They're just loud-mouthed northern Denevian pricks.
Mobster: Ok.



Mobster: We'll see.
Fulvio: Trust me. They couldn't keep up with us... they don't know where the gas pedal is, clearly.
Mobster: Yeah. I... I think we lost them, man.



Fulvio: Well... just incase... you may be needing this.



Mobster: OH SHIT! IT'S THEM! GET DOWN!
Fulvio: They're still gonna' know it's us! Just please, calm it! We can't draw attention to ourselves.



Luca: Why back off, gov!? We've lost them now!
Rod: Sorry to bother you, Tennyson. (Yanks handbrake)
Luca: Wh... what are you doing!?



Rod: I was just playing a bit of fun and games, Tennyson. That's all. I'm just testing the bastards. These ain't the big cats...





Rod: COME OUT NOW YOU BASTARD DELLUCCIO, BEFORE I DRAG YOU OUT! STAY CALM AND GIVE ANY WEAPONS OF YOURS TO MY COLLEAGUE HERE D.I LUCA TWAT-HEAD TENNYSON!







Mobster: Try getting past me first, detective. You know, I thought you were playing at something stupid. You always have to make it awkward for people, don't you?
Rod: How would you know?
Mobster: Guess. I was minutes away from visiting the house, you know. I could've had you bastards in a heartbeat if you'd have hung around.
Rod: Well, I'm sorry. I guess the tired wallpaper got the better of me and made me tired, too.
Mobster: Hm. Funny, is-a that. Now, drop it.
Rod: ...
Mobster: Do it!



Fulvio: Please Jeff. Do it. Come on... we've not got much time left.



Fulvio: I can't afford to die. Not now.



(KA-POW!)







There's miles to go, Marcus.



Rod: Now Delluccio, listen here. Anything you do say won't be given in evidence, but will be screwed up and shoved down your bleeding throat before you can no longer breath. Have you got that!? And for the record, this time... you won't be going anywhere, anytime soon.

Miles and miles...