BLAIR pulls a seat out from the table where Sally is sitting, at an elegantly-decorated breakfast cafe. The smell of fresh scones and coffee fill the clean air, blue skies stretching over the bustling city like a blanket of calm. Despite that, BLAIR is still wearing their trench coat. 

BLAIR 

I need a name.

SALLY pauses, staring them down intently, deciding if she can trust them. With a sigh, she tells them. 

SALLY

Frankie. His name is Frankie. His friends call him Ripper sometimes...

BLAIR glances up at her, an eyebrow raised. 

BLAIR 

And a last name? 

SALLY sighs. 

SALLY 

Frankie Heath Harrison. I mean it; you go to my father with this information and I’ll make sure you never have clients again. 

BLAIR scribbles down the name in their notepad, unfazed by her threat. They pause, suddenly transfixed on the name in black ink. 

BLAIR (Voice Over) 

I had seen that name before. But where? 

BLAIR 

No need to worry. If you sign this contract here, I am sworn to confidentiality with you. Did you bring the first half of the payment? 

BLAIR takes out the contract from their coat, while SALLY takes out a thick envelope from her purse, laden with cash. They swap them quickly. 

SALLY 

Of course. Thank you so much again for agreeing to help… I don’t know what I’d be doing right now without you. 

BLAIR grins, pocketing the money. 

BLAIR 

No need to worry. I’ll do my best- I assume you’ll take him dead or alive if I find him. Are you prepared for that? 

SALLY nods, swallowing nervously. 

BLAIR 

Alright then. Let’s walk through the last time you saw him, shall we? 

BLAIR (Voice Over) 

The questioning went better than I’d expected. She seemed to remember an awful lot for something that happened almost a week ago… but I wasn’t thinking about that then. Frankie didn’t seem like that much trouble, but his associates certainly did. Luckily, I knew exactly where I’d find them

BLAIR walks down the street, eyeing the stray cats and piles of trash warily. Cockroaches skitter across the pavement. BLAIR pauses at a crossroads- the four Twenty streets. BLAIR turns on Twenty-First and disappears into a scrappy-looking maroon-colored bar.

INT: Beached Mermaid Bar- Late Afternoon 

BLAIR walks in, practically hiding in his trenchcoat. Despite it being daytime, the bar is nearly full. The conversations do not stop, but the patrons eye BLAIR mockingly. They are playing pool and drinking heavily. BLAIR walks up to the bar, ushering over the bartender cautiously. 

BLAIR 

I’m looking for somebody, his name is-

BARTENDER 

Oh, it's one of you fools. You fools always be lookin for somebody. Doubt you’ll find ‘em here. 

 BLAIR (agitated) 

Yeah yeah. His name’s Frankie, Frankie Harrison. 

The patron beside BLAIR guffaws loudly. 

PATRON 

Ripper? You’re looking for Ripper? (calls out to the rest of the bar) Hey guys! This fool’s looking for Ripper! 

The entire bar erupts into laughter. BLAIR sits down, confused. 

BLAIR 

So you know the guy? 

PATRON

Oh, sure we do. You ain’t his friend, are ya? 

BLAIR

(shakes head) 

No. I’ve never met him. A client of mine wants me to find him. 

PATRON 

Well, you’re pretty silly lookin for ‘em here. This is Beachies’ territory, don’t ya know? 

BLAIR 

Beachies… You don’t mean the criminal gang, do you? 

PATRON 

(burps) you guessed it! 

BLAIR 

(puzzled) 

But what on earth does that have to do with Frank Harrison? 

PATRON stares dumbly at BLAIR, then erupts into laughter again, spilling his beer all over the table. He wipes tears of laughter from his eyes. 

PATRON 

Ah, you’s a fool, alright! Ol’ Frankie Harrison runs the Viper’s crew to the West. They and the Beachies are always fighting over territory n’ stuff… 

BLAIR (Voice Over) 

Beachies and Vipers. How had I not guessed? The nickname, the look on his face, the familiar name… her father was probably partnering with him to ensure that no business rivals would set up in the Western half of the city. I’d just gotten myself into some real trouble here. Politics are the worst… 

BLAIR 

B-but you don’t mean he runs runs the Vipers, right? 

PATRON 

Course he does. With an iron fist, I’ve heard. 

BLAIR (Voice Over) 

This complicated things. I wondered if Sally knew her fiance was a gang leader when she’d hired me…

BLAIR

Well, he’s missing. You got any idea where he is, or know anyone who does? 

PATRON 

Nah. If I had to bet, though, I’d ask him.

PATRON points across the bar, at a scar-ridden man in a ripped suit sitting alone in a booth. He glares at BLAIR suspiciously as they approach. 

MYSTERY MAN

You’re lookin for a person. 

BLAIR 

I am. And who are you? 

MYSTERY MAN 

(takes a sip of whiskey)

Rags. 

BLAIR 

I’m Blair. I’m looking for-

RAGS

Ripper. 

BLAIR nods. RAGS gestures at the booth, where BLAIR sits down quietly. 

RAGS 

You’re in the right place. If Ripper is missing, he’s definitely somewhere within the Beachies’ territory. They’re the only ones in this damn city that could pull one over on the guy. 

BLAIR 

Any specifics? 

RAGS

Sure. The Beachies have set up shop in the big ol warehouse down the street from here. If that bastard is being held anywhere, it’s there. 

(RAGS leans forward. BLAIR leans backward.)

But who’s asking? Whaddaya want with the guy? 

BLAIR 

(nervously) 

A client of mine is looking for him. That’s all. 

RAGS 

Do they mean em’ harm or good will? 

BLAIR (Voice Over) 

I could tell just by looking at the guy that he was one to be reckoned with. I had to either play my cards right, or not at all. And I’ve never been good with cards.

BLAIR 

I haven’t been told. I just do the job and get paid. 

RAGS nods, taking another sip of whiskey. 

RAGS 

I like you. You’re a funny person. You’d make a great hitman. You’ll find him on 105 Twenty-First Street. 

BLAIR is about to get up out of the booth, but stops, eyeing Rags suspiciously.

BLAIR 

...How did you know all that information? 

RAGS

(smiling) 

Every game of chess has got two kings, don’t it?

BLAIR

(pause)

...So you’re the gang leader of the Beachies. But then why would… why would you want me to find Frankie?

RAGS pauses for a moment before answering. 

RAGS 

Because every game needs two sides to play, detective. Happy hunting. 

BLAIR turns and walks out of the bar, the eyes of the patrons following their leave.

BLAIR walks quickly down the street, huddled into their trench coat. A heavy breeze sweeps through the darkening city. BLAIR stops in front of a large foreboding warehouse, the numbers 105 stamped on its side. BLAIR sighs and begins looking for a way in. 

BLAIR finally finds a dilapidated-looking door. They try it, and find it is unlocked. BLAIR cautiously steps inside a completely dark warehouse, clearly abandoned. Laughter echoes from somewhere upstairs. BLAIR slowly scales the stairs at the other end of the empty room, but as they get closer, the laughter turns to screams and a gunshot as punches are heard being thrown. BLAIR draws their own gun, turning the corner into the room carefully. Just as BLAIR is about to leap out, they freeze at the sound of a gun cocking. 

UNKNOWN 

Come out slowly. Drop your gun. 

BLAIR complies, putting their hands up and bashfully slinking out from behind the wall. Standing in front of them, pointing a gun at their nose, is… Frankie Harrison. Behind him are the three bodies of Beachies gang members, and a chair with ripped duct tape encircling it. Some scraps of tape are still sticking to Frankie’s rumpled white dress shirt, which is also stained with blood. 

FRANKIE 

Who are you? You have ten seconds to answer.

BLAIR (Voice Over) 

My mind was going a million miles a minute. Frankie Harrison was far bigger than I’d expected, there was no way I’d be able to take him in a fight if it came to it. The look in his eyes told me he would have no problem killing me and leaving me with the other three goons behind him. 

BLAIR 

I-uh, Blair! Detective Blair, your fiance hired me to… find you… 

FRANKIE puts down the gun, a crazy smile suddenly spreading across his face. He wraps his huge arms around BLAIR, who seems flustered to say the least. 

FRANKIE 

(cheerfully)

Oh, she did worry about me! I thought she’d be upset when I never showed up for dinner, I’ll be sure to make it up right away! Oh, I can’t wait to see her… what a sweet gal… 

FRANKIE stands back up, petting BLAIR’s hair like one would pet a dog. 

FRANKIE

(cheerfully)  

Well, you’re a good detective! You found me! I’m awfully impressed, you know. I’d ask you how you did it but we should really get out of here! 

BLAIR 

(scornfully) 

I agree. 

FRANKIE grabs BLAIR by the wrist, leading the way with his firearm. When BLAIR goes to pick up their own firearm, FRANKIE suddenly whips around, pointing the barrel straight at BLAIR’s head. 

FRANKIE 

Oh, sorry. It’s a reflex. 

(leans in) 

I know I can trust you now because nobody else but my fiance knows we’re engaged. You must be a good person for her to trust you with our secret. 

BLAIR 

(shaken) 

U-uh… s-sure...

FRANKIE nods to their firearm, urging them to pick it up. The two continue down the flight of stairs slowly. They stop when they see the glint of flashlights below on the bottom floor. Hushed whispers can be heard, but we can’t tell what they’re saying. 

FRANKIE 

Stay behind me. 

As the two step into the lower floor, they are greeted by Rags standing with a large crew of twenty men, flashlights pointed directly at them. Surprisingly, FRANKIE starts laughing. The mood quickly turns from threatening to just plain confused. 

FRANKIE 

Is this it?

RAGS 

Don’t try to joke your way out of this. You’re outnumbered and you know it. Will you surrender yourself or let that little detective die with you? 

FRANKIE 

(talking to the men) 

There are three of your associates dead upstairs. I have no reservations about taking more of you with me. How many of you want to return home tonight? 

The Beachies begin looking nervous, eyeing the guns on FRANKIE’s belt. 

RAGS 

(talking to the men) 

He is nothing. We have him outnumbered and surrounded, men. Don’t you dare lose your nerve now, or I will personally hunt you all down myself. 

FRANKIE 

Oh, yes. Because the last time you tried that it just went so well. Have you forgotten the Eighth Street Massacre? 

BLAIR gasps. 

BLAIR (Voice Over) 

I knew exactly what he was talking about. That was where I’d known his name from: the newspapers last October. It had been the bloodiest gang war yet- fifteen men found dead in the alleyways, more than twelve admitted to hospitals with knife and bullet wounds. The police said they were looking for Frankie Heath Harrison, but didn’t seem to put too much effort into it. I didn’t blame them. 

Collectively, the men all step back. RAGS’ threats do nothing, as a few of them even run out of the room. 

RAGS 

I- don’t you dare run! Are you kidding me? He had backup last time, now he just has some twink detective. You call yourselves Beachies? 

FRANKIE starts to say something, but BLAIR steps forward confidently, his gun trained on RAGS.  

BLAIR 

(talking to Rags)

Did you believe the detective front? I am a hired killer for this guy. I could take all of you on myself. 

FRANKIE flashes them a smile. 

FRANKIE 

(talking to the men)

Run along home, boys. Before this gets ugly. 

The crowd starts slowly moving towards the doors, their confidence dwindling. The look on RAGS’ face can only be described as murderously furious. 

RAGS 

You- you cowards! I’ll kill you all myself! 

RAGS suddenly whips around, firing a single shot directly at FRANKIE. FRANKIE stumbles, leaning on the stair railing. He fires back, hitting one of the men directly behind RAGS. The scene devolves into chaos as the Beachies crowd the doors, all running away as fast as the tiny door will let them out. 

RAGS 

Oh, for f*ck’s sake! I’ll kill you next time, Ripper. And that’s a promise! 

RAGS throws a dirty look at BLAIR, who still has not fired their gun. He spits on the ground and follows the last of his gang members out of the door. Finally, BLAIR turns to FRANKIE.

BLAIR 

You’re… you’re shot! 

FRANKIE is leaning against the railing, sweating but still smiling. 

FRANKIE 

Yeah, yeah. No biggie, it’s just in the thigh, so it will be tough for me to walk for a while. He really is a bad shot, though… didn’t even hit the bone or anything. I should recover just fine. Can you use your shirt to stop the bleeding? Mine’s still covered in tape. 

BLAIR removes their trench coat, taking off their shirt and wrapping it securely around the bullet wound. 

FRANKIE 

You know, that hired killer bit was good… you’re a funny little guy. Very impressive, detective. I doubt I’ll be having much trouble from the Beachies anytime soon, thanks to you. 

BLAIR slings FRANKIE’s arm over their shoulder, and the two hobble out into the streets.

BLAIR 

But… I didn’t do anything. I can’t believe I clammed up like that when they were escaping. I should be used to this job by now, but it never gets any easier… 

FRANKIE 

Nonsense. You did wonderfully. 

A few moments of silence follow. 

BLAIR 

F-Frankie? 

FRANKIE 

Yeah? 

BLAIR 

Are- are you called Ripper because of… because of that massacre a few months back? 

FRANKIE suddenly bursts into laughter, the sound bouncing off the buildings and easing the tension. 

FRANKIE

Hell no. See, the first time I was ever in an important meeting as the leader of the Vipers, it was at this super quiet place with this really awkward guy, so there were a bunch of weird pauses in the conversation and it was absolutely nerve wracking for all my guys. Anyways I stopped paying attention halfway through, and the conversation had just gotten to another weird pause when I suddenly accidentally let out the loudest fart anyone had ever heard ever, and so ever since then, they’ve called me Ripper. And that is why no nicknames are ever good nicknames, Detective… 

The conversation fades off as the scene changes, the voices getting quieter as we pan up to a drone shot of the city.

SALLY 

Oh, my cutie patootie! I’m so glad you’re safe! 

GANG MEMBER

Boss!

The two leap to FRANKIE’s bedside while BLAIR leans on the doorframe, watching with a cigarette in their mouth. FRANKIE hugs them both, kissing SALLY happily. His gaze meets BLAIR’s. 

FRANKIE 

Oh baby cakes, I’m sorry for making you worry. It’s a good thing you found the BEST DETECTIVE THIS SIDE OF TOWN though! They found me at the perfect time! 

BLAIR 

(under breath) 

You didn’t really need any help… 

SALLY suddenly perks up, smiling at BLAIR. She reaches into her purse, producing another envelope full of money. BLAIR visibly brightens up when they see it. 

SALLY 

Oh Blair, I can’t possibly- we can’t possibly- thank you enough. I know Frankiepoo can handle himself, but I always like to be safe. You can count on us being repeat customers, if you’ll have us! 

BLAIR takes the envelope, their eyes shining. All of their attention is clearly only on the cash.

BLAIR 

Uh, sure. Sure thing… I wouldn’t mind that… 

FRANKIE hooks BLAIR, GANG MEMBER, and SALLY all into a huge hug. 

FRANKIE 

Wonderful! Then in that case, your business is now officially under Viper protection. I doubt that’ll be the last we see of Rags, after all. 

Cuts to a small clip of gang members partying in BLAIR’s office, effectively trashing the place. 

BLAIR 

(unenthusiastically)

Oh, great. 

FRANKIE sighs, the hug lasting longer than BLAIR and GANG MEMBER look comfortable with. 

FRANKIE 

I can just tell that this is the start of something great! 

THE END… for now!