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FADE IN: EXT. BIG CITY - CROSS WALK - 8:52 AM A faint tune is heard as we see a spritely, mulatto, twentysomething year old (M.C BUCKLES) speed walking with a smorgasbord of twenty or so caffeinated drinks. Cut to close up and we see he is above average height. Actually, if you add the extra inch from the tippy-top of his fresh faux hawk, and don't forget the one inch sole on the bottom of his worn basketball sneakers, he now measures out at 5 feet, 11.5 inches. So he is basically six feet, as he would respond the question. Veiny, muscular forearms peer out from underneath his 3/4 sleeve zip-up as he manages to hold the box of drinks and his phone somehow. Each pocket of his cargo shorts, which look like a piece of paper that was taken out of the garbage and unfolded, serves a purpose: baby carrots, candy poking out of one, energy shots in the other. M.C (spirited song) Oh, There's no mountain you can't climb. / No, you're gonna to make it in time... M.C shifts his eyes to his phone. It's 8:53 AM. A text reads: WHERE ARE YOU? His song intensifies with his quickened pace. M.C ...Oh, no-no-no, you're not going to cry. / You're gonna make it. / Who am I kidding? / You're not gonna make it. / You're not gonnaM.C pauses at a crosswalk where other strangers stand, waiting for the little white man to appear and give them the go. He continues humming, just a tiny bit. A woman stands beside M.C, eyes locked on the box of drinks in his arms. He looks over at her, visibly bothered by her curiosity. She brings her eyes to his. He fakes a smile. WOMAN That's a lot of coffee. M.C (smarmy) I'm just really tired. The woman laughs to herself and looks forward. M.C looks at her for a second longer, with eye brows raised and a fake smile, tilting his head to the side. Okay, back to normal. He looks forward after he gets that out of his system. An elderly, white haired woman (BABS) is settled two steps ahead of where he halts. Black, inch thick glasses that impede any angle of the sun's evil rays opening fire on her fragile eyes.

M.C's phone vibrates from his right hand. He peaks down: NEED COFFEES NOW. GET GROCERIES LATER. Arms spent, he sets down the coffee and looks at his phone. M.C (press button on side) You know what? Silence. No more ringing for you... There we go. At this very moment, the pretentious orange hand leaves and the little white man appears. As Babs progresses on her journey, crossing the street at sloth's pace, her replaced right hip sends her into an angled trajectory. After three steps it's clear: she is veering straight into traffic! M.C squints up from his phone to see this. A moment of realization. He leaps towards Babs and puts a hand on each of her shoulders, attempting to straighten her course. M.C Ohp. Here we go. BABS (startled) Oh! Please don't hurt me. Frantic, Babs accidentally knocks her thick sunglasses onto the ground. M.C I'm not... I won'tHis hands release from her shoulders, quickly picking up the glasses, and continues to hover over her like a spiritual supervisor. M.C I won't touch you, I'll just guide you like an angel. (pause) But not like you're going to heaven though. I'm sure you're very... fertile... They finish crossing. Babs treks on without acknowledgement. M.C takes a sigh. M.C (pause) Ungrateful old... His eyes look down at his callused hands. He shoots a look across from where he came. M.C Great.

We see from a wide shot M.C is running back across the street. BABS (V.O.) Woopsies. EXT. COFFEE SHOP - COFFEE IN AMERICA - 9:11AM After a struggle, M.C positions the door in a way he can maneuver it open with his foot. INT. COFFEE SHOP - COFFEE IN AMERICA - 9:12AM The Coffee Shop - C.offee I.n A.merica, seats eight people semicomfortably. A few modest chairs and tables, more spit-shine clean than soap and water clean, are in front of a big windowsill. One aged customer, a regular, crotches a little something in the corner. M.C passes by ETHAN(late teens),6'6, lanky, young looking for his age. The barista with a genuine smile and self-laminated named tag looks up to M.C, while having to look down at him. ETHAN (heavy braces accent) M.C, you're late!

M.C I know. They only had one barista working again. Wide shot of Ethan working the counter by himself, shaking his head. ETHAN When are they going to learn? (pause) Why don't you just buy them up here? Above Ethan, scribbled in chalk are three options: Small - $2.00, Tall - $4.00, Treats - $3.50. M.C, never one to hurt someone's feelings, covers his human tracks with elephant foot prints. M.C Well... I think it would look suspicious if I just came up here for twenty coffees and went straight back downstairs. Ethan rapidly nods in confused but apologetic agreement. M.C Aye, Mupp-ay. Good looking... coaster? MUPPAY (60s) thrusts his masterpiece into the air like the Wimbledon Trophy, with the heart-warming grin of a five-year-old who just won Top Banana. MUPPAY It's fire-proof too!

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M.C deploys his automatic nod response while he searches for something to say. He slowly backpedals, until he is less than a foot from the elevator. M.C Looking good. M.C pivots towards two worn, swinging doors. He pushes through them to reveal an astonishing, silver elevator. A 1x1 black interactive device sits just above his head and a little to the right. Above it reads: RETINA SCANNER. For a few moments M.C struggles between trying to get his eyes to scanner level and balancing the hot drinks still in hand. A robotic voice, SSIMBA (SIM-BUH), enhances his frustration. Super Smart Interactive Machine Beta Analyser. SSIMBA ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. M.C steps back out of the swinging doors and sets the drinks on the counter. He goes back to the elevator, now on his tip toes, feeling like a small boy trying to peer through the window of his favorite candy shop, he lines up his eye's with SSIMBA's device. The scanning takes extra long. SSIMBA ACCESS DENIED. M.C Seriously, SSIMBA? That's how it's going to be? OK. OK. M.C turns his back to the elevator and takes a step away. Then a quick 180 degree turn and run to SSIMBA, trying to catch it by surprise. SSIMBA ACCESS DENIED. M.C Ugh! Ethan, door. M.C emerges from the swinging doors and scoops up the smorgasbord of caffeine, signaling with head for Ethan to open the door. ETHAN (holding door) Here you go Mr. B. INT. COFFE SHOP STAIRCASE ETHAN Good luck. Ethan winks before he closes the door.

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Hands full, M.C carefully measures out each step. After a few cautious steps, we see two horizontal red lines, one six inches off the ground and the other a foot from the ground, beaming across the bottom of the stairway. M.C (to himself) Trip wires. In the stare case. Really? INT. CIA HEADQUARTERS - 9:30 AM M.C has just completed getting through the door, using the same awkward foot technique from before. INT. CIA HQ MAIN HALLWAY We see a close up of the various drinks: coffee spills and other drink stains over almost every cup. He proceeds through the vast hallway corridors, every few steps reveals a new door. Some are sizable, see-through glass doors and others are black and opaque. The first glass door on his left reads: AGENCY SEDUCTION 101. As M.C peers through the window, AGENT JAMISON(mid 30s), known around the office for his stainless, pearl teeth and flawless dark brown hair, rappels down from a long black rope in a tuxedo. His feet meet the ground with a soft kiss, next to AGENT RACHEL (mid 30s) a feisty brunette. Jamison slowly cups his hand below her ear, his thumb on her ear lobe in a long, drawn out moment. M.C (opening door) Hey Jamison! Hey Rachel! Looking great! Jamison's eyes float to the ceiling as Rachel's gaze meets M.C's with a fury. JAMISON (hair flip) Just leave the coffees at the door. M.C Okie dokie! M.C sets down the box of drinks, takes out a large vanilla bean frappucino with "JAMISON" written on the side. After that he sets down an iced tea with a big "R" on the front, picks up the box and leaves. He passes by two big black doors on his way, CAR CHASE SIMULATOR and AA, setting down a few drinks at each. We hear tires squealing and people sobbing as he passes.

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M.C passes by a few more such as WEIGHT ROOM, EXPLOSIVES, SUPPLY ROOM, etc. He proceeds to take a left around the corner and stops at the receptionist desk. INT. CIA HQ RECEPTION DESK He is greeted by a seated TINA (mid 20s) the receptionist, a master at lacing her fake enthusiasm pigs in warm, passive aggressive blankets. Yum! Her words spew out quicker than most. TINA Mick. There you are! M.C (to himself) M.C. TINA Mhm. Must have been some traffic, huh? M.C Yeah there was only one barista for all these drinks, so it takesTINA I'm sure it does, there are so many. I'm just glad you got them all... hopefully. M.C Is there a reason I can't just get it from upstairs, or...? Tina looks directly at M.C, either searching for her words or trying to decode his hidden message. TINA Right? Well, good thing it's only a few blocks away. Do you have the receipt? M.C Yup, gimme one sec. Tina raises from her seat, searching through the coffees. After some digging, he realizes he doesn't have the receipt. TINA Will you circle the date for me? M.C fakes a smile. M.C I seemed to have misplaced the receipt.

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Tina takes a moment to register what he has said. She looks at his hands. TINA Okay. Well... just go get the receipts and bring them back here as soon as you can. Tina stands up to look inside the box containing the rest of the caffeinated beverages.

M.C Oh. Before I forget, today I actually had to use my own money so if i could just get thatTINA Oh no!... I don't see any straws or sugar packets. M.C (pause) Yeah, I was running late so I figured I would just grab some from upstairs. TINA (some coffee in arms) It's fine. I'm sure I will eventually find some in the break room, maybe. Tina exits with coffees to hand out. Beat. M.C all alone. M.C I'll just come back later... With the receipt. M.C heads to the multi-purpose area. He comes to a screeching halt. We see his eyes light up. M.C No way. INT. CIA HQ WOLFE'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER WOLFE(mid 20s) 6'2, white, lean and a tad awkward looking, as he has the body type of a swimmer. His punched up shoulders slope inwards as if about to cave as they support his red and yellow striped polo. His unshowered hair has a mind of it's own, except for the thatch on the front-right where he always runs his fingers through, which always sticks straight out. He may have somewhat of an underbite, or maybe he is always thinking. His delivery is more leisured, as he always carefully chooses his words. Wolfe slouches at his desk, which is covered with three empty seltzer waters and a junk food wrapper. The laptop directly in front

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of him has a several webpages open, mostly with various names and faces, and a local gym's complaint page, with an interactive instant message box up, displaying the never ending list of his complaints. WOLFE (into phone) Hi... I'd like to file a complaint. (pause) Yes... Yes, you see I was told I was a member world wide... yes. (pause) THUMP. Wolfe looks at his open door. WOLFE Right... While I was out of the country, I was turned away like... like some(pause) THUMP. THUMP. Wolfe gets to his feet. WOLFE (distracted) I was under the impression... Wolfe's voice trails off. He sets the phone down and walks towards the open door. INT. CIA HQ MULTI-PURPOSE AREA - OUTSIDE WOLFE'S DOORWAY We see a shot of Wolfe from a far, his hand on the door knob though the shot cuts off before we see any of the door itself. The multipurpose room is deserted, with distant signs of life echoing from a far. M.C cements his back to the side of the wall, inches from the door way. With his imaginary hand gun tucked into his chest, he takes a deep breathe, nods, and bursts through the doorway. INT. CIA HQ WOLFE'S OFFICE As Wolfe closes the door and walks back to his computer, we see M.C with his back, the bottoms of his feet, and his left hand stuck to Wolfe's door. M.C stares at him in a giddy astonishment. He takes a deep breathe. M.C Hands in the air! Quit harassing...

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Wolfe jumps back and whips around. M.C can't unstick from the door. M.C (tugging hand, feet) Quit harassing that sweet, old woman... for herpes... medica- son of a bee sting, I can't get down. (pause) She never loved you! WOLFE (covers phone with hand) Nice one dude. Nailed it. Whenever Wolfe says "nailed it", the "N" always seems to get an extra second of attention. M.C Right? WOLFE (hand over phone) Uhhmm yes... so I'll take a seltzer water and uh... or maybe a cream soda? You know, whenever you're free. M.C (pulling left hand with his right) Oh stop, I'm not yourM.C scans his desk. At this moment he gets his left hand unstuck, immediately falling face first onto the ground, feet still stuck to the door. M.C It's like... not even 11AM. WOLFE (hand is off phone) Oh, okay...tough guy now? Big dog stepping up to the plate? PHONE OPERATOR Sir, I didn't mean to offend you. I can give you a refund if that'd be okay? M.C A little help? Wolfe gives M.C the "one second" hand signal. WOLFE (phone to ear) No, not okay dude. I want my price... cut in half. (pause) Yep... And my boy, he wants half off too. (thumbs up to M.C)

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Okay great, hang on one second. Wolfe walks towards M.C and they interlock hands. Wolfe tries to yank M.C off of his door like a decrepit piece of gum. WOLFE (excruciating) Why... did you think...this was... a good... idea? M.C You're breaking... my pelvis! At this moment, a 6'3 towering combination of muscle and hair gel rips open the door. Wolfe and M.C go flying backwards, toppling into a few spare cardboard pizza boxes. TANNER FOX (late 20s) is livid with Wolfe as he sweats in his sleeveless, V-neck t-shirt. Two features that were not originally part of the shirt's design. TANNER Let me touch you're eyes! Now! Wolfe is on his feet, walking to his desk. M.C remains standing in the corner. Whenever Wolfe doesn't understand the reason behind something, he always accompanies his "excuse me?" or "what?" with a hard squint like his thick brows have had enough and are trying to crush his brown eyes in an uprising. WOLFE (french) Escoozie? TANNER Don't S.S. Cooz-ee me... Where is my hand cream? I've been killing monkey bars and rope swing all day and now I'm supposed to get my bi-weekly body massage from Roberta and my eyes are killing me... (escalating) ...I can't find my special contact solution! WOLFE Monkey bars? Rope swing? Sounds like you're training for pretty tough stuff. Ever consider trying the olympics? TANNER Yeah, the special olympics. Beat. TANNER

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If you were... doing... them. Idiot. (pause) Where is my solution? If I don't take these colored contacts out soon my cornea's could be burn off. M.C You wear colored contacts? TANNER Duh. "Blue makes the babes wanna bone". Ever heard of it? Tanner stares a hole through Wolfe, who responds with a quizzical look and shoulder shrug. TANNER Seriously? Ugh, fine. He searches the room one last time. It's not there. TANNER Losers. He storms out. M.C walks to the middle of the doorway, suction noises are heard from his feet. M.C Awesome three man rescue last week by the way! Tanner stops almost ten feet away from M.C and whips his head back around. TANNER Who the hell are you and why do you think it's okay to talk to me? M.C (pause) I'm... I'm M.C... M.C Buckles. TANNER Well Mr. Butt cheeks, I saw you're secret agent door entrance. It sucked... If you were sneaking up on me, you'd be shot in the face like seven times by now and probably be dead. Tanner exits. M.C turns facing Wolfe. WOLFE (back on phone) I thought you nailed it, bro. M.C laughs to himself and turns to leave. WOLFE (calls to M.C) Seltzer? He pulls out the contact solution.

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WOLFE (to himself) Dirt? Mmm no, too distinguishable. (looking around the room) Maybe vinegar? A few seconds pass as M.C has begun to exit. M.C (O.S.) (distant) Fine. One seltzer coming up. The phone is still on Wolfe's ear, with his hand covering the mouth piece. WOLFE (shouting) And some vodka! (uncovers mouth piece) This is gonna be awesome. PHONE OPERATOR I'm glad to be of service. WOLFE Wait, what?... Oh, really? Hell yes. (pause) Yes, my brother will be thrilled. (pause) Time to do a what now? Wolfe looks down at his desk. A large packet of papers stapled together is marked "URGENT". WOLFE Well, I am a little busy... Say what now? For free?... Well of course, I would love to do a survey for you. INT. CIA HQ MULTI-PURPOSE AREA CONTINUOUS M.C sneaks through a big area, headed toward the fridge. He hums a secret agent song he has created, "Dum, dum, dum-dum, dum- (a moment of silence to look around the corner)dum, dum-dum-dum. The camera pans up to a large 10 feet wide, mirrored glass. We see on the other side... INT. CIA HQ PORTER'S OFFICE ...Two men in the room: TERRANCE PORTER (50s), strong jaw line, he's thick but not fat, and has the stance of a military officer while he scans outside the large window. Also in the room is HAROLD PIGILESIAS (pronounced PEE-LAY-SEE-US)(50s), round and blubbery, sits drinking a warm glass of milk.

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PORTER (laughs to himself) What an egotistical position. PIGILESIAS What? You don't like it? PORTER The Creator? You don't think your heads just... (using thumb and index finger) ...a little too far up your ass? PIGILESIAS (milk mustache) Ha-ha! The title is half the fun Terry... Don't you want to be something more than just, "Terrance Porter, CoDirector?"... And I'll have you know that I did my research. You the The The PORTER thought of it while we were watching the Matrix! For last three days all you kept saying was "How cool was Architect?", "Why can't my name be something more like Architect?"

PIGILESIAS Oh, please. Pigilesias sets down his milk and picks up the music remote. The intro to DMX "X Gon' Give It To Ya" starts up with horns blaring. PORTER Turn that down, I'm trying to think! PIGILESIAS About what? Pigilesias turns down the music, thought we can still vaguely hear the beat. PORTER The numbers, what else would it be? Porter starts towards the wall, which has a projection on it. "CRIMES SOLVED" stands at the top of the visual and two, vertical bars extend from the bottom. The left bar is FBI and the other is CIA. DIA has solved 534 crimes and CIA has solved only 377. PIGILESIAS Numbers, bumbers, lumbers. Blah, blah, blah. (then) We already talked about it. What more is there to think about?

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Porter uses a remote to flip the projector screen to look at profiles of different agents. PORTER What about Johnson? Why can't we use him again? He never remembers a damn thing. PIGILESIAS True. He isn't the brightest agent... Actually he isn't even close... But his average time spent on a mission that involves seduction is eight minutes flat. (pause) Ever since we started bugging him we can just... pay attention for him. He has actually gotten better at flirting too, since he doesn't get those painful concentration headaches now. Porter flips to the next slide. PORTER What about C.J.? He is a bit of a lose cannon. Maybe something like this would put him in his place... I mean, he is the most deserving, what with all the compromises we've made for him. Cesar every every it... PIGILESIAS Jesus? (HAY-SOOS) No, no, no. He may kill just about person he has met on a case, but he also has killed person we need dead. And he really, really enjoys He's one I'd rather not piss off.

Porter flips the slide again. PORTER And the twins? All they do is meaningless paper work? PIGILESIAS Who? Rainy and Cloudy? (pause) Yeah, I really think we should put them in harms way... Both men try not to crack a smile from this statement. They can't resist, and their gated lips explode with a flood of laughter. A few seconds and they settle back down. Pigilesias gets up- no. He rocks and rises...nope. He musters up all his strength a third time, barely getting to bent knee position, and clutches the chair for the rest. He picks up his milk and joins Porter, overlooking the large multi-purpose area. PORTER (O.S.) You really think these men will go for something so... stupid?

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A wide shot of the entire multi-purpose room displays both M.C and Wolfe. We see to M.C, who is towards the bottom-right corner of the screen washing an all-black Lamborghini, with the nozzle of the hose he first sings into it like a microphone but soon it is positioned in front of his crotch. He is dancing, singing, and all-around enjoying himself as well. M.C (yelling to Wolfe) Look, I'm R.Kelly! PORTER I thought the new guy was supposed to be something special? We shift focus to Wolfe. He sits towards the top-left of the screen, on a bench with paper towels laid out in front of him. On the paper towel is a bottle of Tanner's eye solution, which Wolfe is filling with a bottle of vodka. Wolfe is laughing uncontrollably as he mixes this concoction. PIGILESIAS Yeah, we said the same thing about Wolfe. Porter takes a moment to drink it all in. PORTER OK. Without looking back, Pigilesias aims the music remote behind him and clicks the song back on. Both men embrace the song. "X gon' give it to ya, he gon' give it to ya. X gon' give it to ya..." INT. CIA HQ MULTI-PURPOSE AREA LATER Wolfe sits at the same bench, with M.C and two spy twins, RAINY (28) and CLOUDY (28), standing close by. We can see why Porter and Pigilesias want to keep them around, as their outfits leave little to the imagination. (Note to reader: I hope to see a distinct difference in women's outfits between the different agencies, I'm not a sleazy person.)

WOLFE So then, Tanner will be like "Oh no... (fake squirting into eyes) ...what's going on with my eyes." Right? Like, like... "it burns!" Get it? RAINY

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(shocked) But... that's his favorite bottle of solution. Why would you do that? (chokes up) He is going to be so sad. Rainy buries her heard into the comforting arm of Cloudy as they walk away. CLOUDY Don't worry Rainy, boys are just weird. They exit. M.C looks at Wolfe and shakes his head definitively. M.C No we're not. M.C starts picking up the paper towel. M.C I thought you nailed it bro. M.C uses the extra attention on the "N", but Wolfe doesn't seem to notice. WOLFE Right? The phone rings from inside Wolfe's office. WOLFE (playing with bottle) Not here. The phone rings again. WOLFE I'm not here! M.C sighs, walks into the room and answers the phone. M.C Hello? Oh, hey Tina. Yeah, it's M.C... (pause)

M.C glares at Wolfe. Wolfe misses the hint, as he acts out more of Tanner's possible reactions. M.C ...No, it is Wolfe's phone I just(pause) No. No, not yet. I'll go get it as soon as I get a sec(pause)

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Right. Pretty busy. Okay. And the bathrooms? I just did those(pause) Wait, what? (long pause) Okay. Alright thanks. No, I won't forget. Okay, bye. Yup, bye. Bye. M.C steps out of Wolfe's office, flabbergasted. WOLFE (looking at his bottle) What'd she want now? More expense reports? Ughh, Tina I don't have the expense reports done. Get over it already! M.C No, it was Mr. Porter... he wants us to... go into his office. WOLFE Why? M.C I don't know... Didn't ask. WOLFE When? M.C Right now. They look at each other nervously, but Wolfe's reaction soon becomes curiosity. WOLFE Well, shit... Let's go see what he wants. INT. CIA HQ OUTSIDE ELEVATOR - MOMENTS LATER Wolfe looks directly into SSIMBA's retina scanner. WOLFE SSIMBA, let me in. Now. M.C I can never get that thing to work. They enter the elevator. INT. CIA HQ INSIDE ELEVATOR M.C shivers. Wolfe cracks his neck. SSIMBA Welcome Mr. Wolfe. Chipper as always.

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WOLFE Don't even bother with that attitude SSIMBA... Don't even bother. Wolfe pushes a button. The elevator goes up. SSIMBA Welcome Mr. Buckles. Startled, M.C jolts into a balled fist stance. WOLFE Relax, bro. He relaxes. M.C What do you think he's calling us in for? WOLFE (slapping side elevator) Probably just wants me to take apart old SSIMBA here. Says she's been slowin' down a bit. Ain't that right old girl? SSIMBA I am faster and smarter than you will ever be. WOLFE Heh. Yeah right. What kind of name is SSIMBA anyway? SSIMBA What kind of name is Wolfe? M.C Oooh, get 'em. WOLFE Psh... (turns to M.C) Hey, watch this. (looks up) Tell me a joke SSIMBA. SSIMBA (pause) What do you call a wolf who has lost his way? A beat passes and the elevator stops. SSIMBA A where-wolf. The door opens with a ding. SSIMBA

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Ha-ha. Ha-ha. M.C loves it. Wolfe even lets out a smirk as they walk out. M.C Oh my gosh SSIMBA, you and my dad would get along so well. The doors close and the mood gets a little more tense. They start a long, slow trek towards the end door at the end of the hall. M.C Are we... Are we getting fired? WOLFE No. M.C (hysterical to himself) I can't lose my job. I don't even know how to get a job. I don't even know how I got this job. WOLFE We're fine. Don't you work for like, less than nothing? M.C (still to himself) Well, we're still working out the kinks, but technically... I'm an intern. (pause) Was it the coffee? I keep telling them if they just called the orders in advance I could save so much time. WOLFE M. Seriously, stop. Deep breathe. M.C gulps down a fresh chunk of air. The door opens automatically. Porter and Pigilesias stand in the center of a vast, extravagant room, maybe twenty feet away. Menacing snarls across both their faces, they are almost unrecognizable from before... Though Pigilesias still holds that god damn cup of milk in his hand. PORTER (nods his head up) Men. Glad you could join us. Please come in. A Beat. M.C holds his breathe. M.C dramatically exhales as the reluctantly step through the doorway, the doors making a large thud behind them. INT. CIA HQ MR. PORTER'S OFFICE WOLFE

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T.P... (pivots head) ...Piggy-licious, pleasure to be here.

PIGILESIAS For the last time it's PEE-LAY-SEE-US! (regroups) But you can just call me The Creator. Wolfe gives him a look like "come on, seriously?". M.C lunges forward and takes a turn convulsing each of their hands. M.C It is an honor to be here. Before we start, I would love to lead the singing of our oath to the agency. PORTER Oath? We don't have an oath. M.C I actually took the liberty of making one sir. M.C's body becomes perfectly straight and his hands fold behind his back as he jumps right into song. M.C (clears throat - sing) Oh My Fair Ay-gency/ How I Will Stand For Thee/ (switching to baritone) Tears I Have Shed For You/ Blood I Shall BleedPORTER Okay, enough! (pause) Um, thank you for that Mr. Buckles, but we... we have much more serious matters to discuss. We see Wolfe deliberately mouthing "The CREE-AY-TOR" over and over again as he examines the decorative room, avoiding Pigilesias' irritated beam. PORTER (point to chairs) Alright men. Please have a seat. There are four black, worn leather chairs crowded around an aged projector box that all spend their day staring at the wall. M.C and Wolfe proceed to getting comfortable. Porter and Pigilesias stand by each other, out of their view.

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Porter lifts the remote to turn on the projector. Music plays Usher's "I wanna make love in this club." Pigilesias spits out his milk. Porter fumbles with the remote. "In this club. In this-" Porter finally turns off the music. PORTER Uhh, SSIMBA must be acting up again. Wolfe turns his head and gives a look to M.C that says "right", not believing a word Porter says. M.C is still lip-syncing the song. Porter picks up a new remote. The projector starts up with a black screen and then reads "CONFIDENTIAL". PORTER Here we are men. Alright. Wait. Lights! The lights go out. Porter starts flipping through the projector. PORTER Good. Now men, it has come to our attention that over the past few months you two have been hard at work... Wolfe shoots a questioning glance at M.C, who is relieved to hear this news. PORTER (O.S.) ...doing everything we ask. Men... Wolfe already has four fingers out and is lifts his pinky. He has counted Porter say the word "men" five times now. PORTER Do you think we have been fair to you? WOLFE (instantly) Not at all. I hate it here. After like one day you stuck me at a computer and said look up this shit for me. "Sit in this corner all alone and put in this data." I haven't gotten to do one cool thing yet. PIGILESIAS On the first day we told you to go get the office some groceries. Instead, you hit someone with a company vehicle! WOLFE I told you it wasn't my fault. He wasn't in the crosswalk! PIGILESIAS Maybe after you hit him! Porter clicks on a slide-show.

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SILENCE fills the room for a few moments. PORTER Well, it has been a year. And we think you have done some... maturing. (pivots) And what about you M.C? Have we been treating you fairly? M.C Well, I haven't been interning here very long... Last week, for my one month anniversary you let me throw a grenade. That was cool! Even though it didn't really work. PIGILESIAS (whisper to Porter) Oh yeah, ha. We painted a potato grey... and told him it was a live grenade. Haha... When it splattered on the ground... (almost crying) ...we said it must have been a dud. Porter puts a hand to his mouth. After a moment, he lets out a sigh and clicks to the next slide. PORTER (O.S.) Well men, the data has never been more up-to-date and on point. The amount of time we spend on solving crimes has been cut in half. M.C gives Wolfe a congratulatory elbow nudge. PORTER The hot coffee, the washed vehicles, and the clean bathrooms have all been top-notch. (beat) Men, we've decided to give you two a... mission. M.C smiles and does a small dance. Wolfe looks questioning, with the pointer finger now raised for six or seven times Porter has said "men". MS of projector screen. M.C's profile pops up. PORTER (O.S.) M.C, you have performed fairly... below average on our tests. To be honest, I think you still need to figure out how to put all your talent together. But Mr. Pigilesias said this my be a perfect opportunity to prove you have what it takes. Porter's monologue continues in the background.

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Wolfe looks up at the top of the page. It reads "MARIAH CAREY BUCKLES". Wolfe leans in towards M.C. WOLFE Wait, your name is Mariah Carey? M.C (sighs) Yeah. It was before she blew up though. I was born in '89 and my mom was a local fan of Mariah's. Ma thought she'd just be an underground hit, but then she had to go have a Vision of Love. CU of projector screen and Porter's voice kicks back in. PORTER (O.S.) Which brings us to Wolfe. The projector slide clicks over and we say a picture of Wolfe looking higher than a kite. Above his head reads "JAMES SUTHERLAND BOND". Porter's monologue continues in the background. M.C squints at the screen. M.C Wait. Bond? As in (Bond impression) Bond, James Bond. You're his son? WOLFE One of many I'm sure. I go by Jamie Milovy. Porter just loves to bring it up whenever possible. He loves to say I'm not "living up to my potential." M.C But you... I mean... PORTER Men. I'm terribly sorry. Am I interrupting something? M.C freezes in fear. Wolfe laughs. WOLFE No, sir. Us men are listening sir. PORTER Good. That's what I like to hear. CUT back to projector screen. It clicks throughout following speech. PORTER

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Now men, we have a basic retrieval mission for you. Slide click.

PORTER We have Raphinon Muchachi. A civilian, and friend of Tanner's. Apparently, Tanner decided he wanted to show off to his high school rival "Mooch." Slide click. High school photo. PORTER Muchachi and Tanner went to high school together. Tanner said he wanted to rub it in Mooch's face that he was a spy now and that Mooch had... Porter pauses and makes a disgusted face to himself and begins to quote Tanner. PORTER ..."And Mooch had peaked in high school and the only reason they won the state title without him was because Mooch was juicing... and was gay." Porter lets out a groan, his head throbbing from using Tanner's logic. He looks over at Pigilesias, who appears to be sleeping. He shakes his head and continues. PORTER Anyway men, the point is, Tanner sent his buddy some pictures of how cool he is now... Clicks slide: Tanner is standing over a group of people he has knocked out. He looks super pumped. PORTER ...And ended up sending Mr.Muchachi somewhere between 10 and 20 top secret pictures in his phone. Quite simply, we need them back. Porter clicks the next slide. PORTER We need you two to find him and bring his phone back to us. We don't know what he has or hasn't done with the pictures, and we need to make sure they don't get into the wrong hands. Porter perks back up. He clicks to the last slide which reads, "THE END. -porterhouse productions"

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PORTER So, Tina will have the file on Muchachi for you downstairs and will tell you what to do next. Lights! The lights shoot on, jolting Pigilesias who spills the last 1/4 of his milk on the carpet. M.C and Wolfe get up out of their seat and head for the door. PORTER And men... Wolfe tries to recount all the times Porter has said men. PORTER Don't mess this up. WOLFE (to himself) Eight? M.C Yes sir!

The doors shut behind them. Porter turns around to Pigilesias, who is slowly coming back to life. PORTER Seriously? PIGILESIAS What? PORTER I had to do the whole presentation by myself. PIGILESIAS I told you, I'm The Creator, not The Explainer. (then) It seemed like it went well... That last line gave me goosebumps. You nailed it. PORTER Right? A beat passes as Porter admires how menacing he can sound. PORTER Now clean that up. I don't want my carpet to get all... soggy. PIGILESIAS (dabbing the carpet) The important thing is, the plan is in place. Now where is the remote?