ext. alleyway - night

Jarod BRIGHT stands in the darkness at the head of the alley. All that is visible are his fluorescing green goggles, pulled up onto his forehead, and the glow of the cigarette he is smoking. He is also wearing a dark-colored "cyberpunk" top and a pair of red raver pants, glowsticks hanging from the waistband.

Bright parts his lips and the cigarette drops from his mouth. It falls to the ground. Bright walks down the alley and enters a building on his left through its steel back door.

int. nightclub

Bright closes the door and walks through a short dark hall into the main club. Only a few people are on the dance floor, but they are all wildly dancing and swirling brightly glowing objects around. Next to a bar are several tables; sitting at one is CLARISSE, a woman with dark clothing, sunglasses, and UV-reactive lipstick which flouresces red. A briefcase is on the ground next to her seat. Bright looks at a photo on his cellphone of her, which reads "Clarisse" in a caption box. He nods to himself, then approaches the table beside hers. He sits down facing away from her. They do not look at one another as they speak.

bright

Yo.

clarisse

Welcome to Brussels. What do you think so far?

BRIGHT

It's very...Belgian.

Clarisse nods.

CLARISSE

Was it you who came up with that code phrase, Bright?

BRIGHT

Yeah. Seems like somethin' I'd say.

Clarisse smirks.

CLARISSE

Well, let's get you started.

BRIGHT

Right. This Van Deusen guy, he's got some intel we need. Where is he?

CLARISSE

In the back. He owns this place. He's a friend of the Caracal Group, so he's holding a hard drive for them. Caracal's got their men coming to pick it up in two hours. By the time they get here, you need to have it with you on a plane back to Munich.

brigHT

Gotcha. I gotta off Van Deusen too, right?

CLARISSE

Did HQ tell you that?

BRIGHT

Yeah.

CLARISSE

Then I'd do it. His office is sound-proofed, so don't worry about that.

BRIGHT

I like to make noise.

CLARISSE

I'm sure.

Clarisse nudges the briefcase in Bright's direction.

CLARISSE

Good luck, Agent Bright.

She stands up and walks off towards the dance floor.

Bright picks up the briefcase and carries it towards a door reading "EMPLOYÉS SEULEMENT" on one line and "SLECHTS WERKNEMERS" on the second. He pushes the door open.

INT. Staff Corridor of Nightclub

Bright walks down the hallway until he sees a door with a placard reading "HANS VAN DEUSEN" on it. He puts down the briefcase and opens it.

Inside is a pistol and a clip of ammunition, as well as a key on a ring. Bright slips the keyring around his finger, then takes the pistol, loading the clip into it. He kicks the now empty briefcase down the hallway and tries to open the door. The handle doesn't turn. Bright unlocks it with the key and pushes it open, closing it behind him.

int. Van Deusen's Office

VAN DEUSEN sits at his desk working on his computer. He is dressed in "business casual" attire.

Bright points the pistol at Van Deusen.

BRIGHT

Hey, asshole!

Van Deusen looks up at Bright, and freezes. Van Deusen lifts his hands up slowly.

Van Deusen

(with a Belgian accent)

Who are you?

Bright walks over to Van Deusen's desk, keeping the gun pointed at him.

BRIGHT

Hiya, Jarod Bright, nice to meet ya. I'm from IBO.

VAN DEUSEN

What is IBO?

BRIGHT

Whatever you like. Could be "It's Beautiful Outside." Might be "I Breed Octopi." It can even be "Incontinent Babies in Overalls" if it makes you feel better about yourself, but it's gonna be "International Beatdown Organization" if you don't hand over that fuckin' hard drive.

VAN DEUSEN

H-hard drive?

BRIGHT

Yeah, man! The drive the Caracal bitches were comin' to get, y'know the one! You wanna give it to me?

Van Deusen begins to quake in fear.

VAN DEUSEN

It...it is in the drawer.

BRIGHT

Awesome! Open it up, dude!

Van Deusen slowly slides open a drawer in his desk and removes a small hard drive with a USB cable wrapped around it. Bright snatches it up with his free hand.

BRIGHT

Hey, what do ya know, even comes with a cable! Thanks, buddy, you're a big help. Real shame I gotta do this next part.

Bright cocks his pistol and aims it directly at Van Deusen's head.

VAN DEUSEN

Wh-what is this? I...I do not work for the Caracal Group, I just hold things for them! I am an errand boy to those people, why do you have to kill me?

BRIGHT

I dunno, man, just doin' my job. Sure sucks for you, though.

VAN DEUSEN

B-but you...please, do not kill me! I don't know who your employers are, but I can...I can pay you! I can pay you more!

BRIGHT

Sorry, man, I doubt that. Besides, I don't really do this for the cash. This gig's just fun.

VAN DEUSEN

Fun? You have fun killing people who --

BRIGHT

Oh, no, I don't really like that part much. But I deal, y'know.

Beat.

BRIGHT (CONT'D)

Anyway, I gotta be goin'. Hang in there, all right?

VAN DEUSEN

Th-this is ridiculous!

BRIGHT

Yeah, hilarious, ain't it?

VAN DEUSEN

It's not funny!

BRIGHT

Aww, come on, Van Deu! Life's too short to not be laughin' your ass off!

Bright laughs maniacally and fires five shots into Van Deusen's skull. He falls out of his chair, dead.

int. STAFF CORRIDOR OF NIGHTCLUB

Bright walks out of the office door and slams it behind him. He blows on the barrel of his gun as he walks back down the hall. He begins to tuck it under his waistband as he reenters the club floor.

INT. NighTCLUB

Bright looks up and gradually comes to a stop. The club is completely empty, save for four CARACAL agents standing right in front of Bright, one of them wearing a MASK. The LEADER in the center of the group smiles.

CARACAL LEADER

(amused)

Jarod Bright. Illuminati Black Operations. Quite a pleasure to meet you.

Bright looks around at the empty club, then back to the Leader. He furrows his brow angrily.

CARACAL LEADER (cONT'D)

I must thank you for retrieving our intelligence.

Bright pulls his gun out and aims it at the Leader.

BRIGHT

Fuck you.

Bright fires seven shots, each creating a muzzle flash but no bullets seem to come out.

The leader laughs.

CARACAL LEADER

Only the first five rounds in that clip were live ammunition, Mr. Bright. You just fired blanks.

Bright does not move, staring forward blankly. The empty clip falls out of his gun and clatters to the floor.

CARACAL LEADER (CONT'D)

Perhaps if you'd learned to kill with one shot, you'd be in a better situation right now.

Bright looks back and forth between the four Caracals, his expression slowly becoming disappointed.

CARACAL LEADER (CONT'D)

You're trigger happy, Bright, but I like you. We can give you the ammunition you crave easily. But you're going to have to come back to Mozambique with us, Mr. Bright. I'm sure you'll like it, though.

Bright sighs, slowly lowering his face and his gun.

BRIGHT

Shit, man.

Abruptly, Bright twirls his gun around in his hand and smashes the mask-wearing Caracal with the butt.

In slow motion, the Caracal's gun and a clip of ammo flies into the air from the force of the attack.

As the Caracal falls, Bright's pistol twirls back around to its original position. He catches the other gun in his left hand, and the clip of ammo lodges itself into Bright's pistol.

The motion speeds up back to normal. Bright turns around and shoots one of the other Caracals in the face with his now loaded gun.

The Leader and the other still-standing Caracal draw their guns and run backward in opposite directions, firing shots at Bright.

Bright dives for cover, tipping over a table to protect himself from the gunfire. He pops up and shoots at the Caracal.

The Caracal ducks behind the bar just as one of Bright's bullets grazes his shoulder. He cries out in pain, clutching his shoulder.

Bright stands up and runs out towards the dance floor. The Leader leans around from behind a column and shoots at Bright. Bright shoots a flurry of bullets back at him, and the Leader quickly hides behind the column again.