Venom - Pilot episode.

"Who ya lookin for pretty lady?"
"Fuck off Tyrone, you know who I'm lookin for,"
The gang leader backed off my newly shined black Viper Dodge, his amused facial expression melting away.
"I aint seen him, you're wasting your time. Get the hell outta here,"
"You fuckin wimp,"  I broke away from his stare, revved up the car and took off.


"Al.......Al let me in..." I slammed my fist on the door of Tyrone's brother.
No response.
"Al, will you fuckin let me in?"
The door creaked open, Al holding a loaded pistol.
"What......." He seemed distant, blank.
I slowly nudged the door open, watching the pistol with all my concentration.
"Al.....Put the gun down.........Put it down, I'm not going to hurt you,"
Al's face dripped sweat, his eyes filled with pulsating red veins - he wasn't scared, he was high.
"For Christ's sake Al, I thought you quit that shit," I boomed into the mouldy unit and snatched the gun, him being too dazed to stop me.
"I......I....." He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and looked away.
"Listen to you, you're a blubbering idiot," I picked up the bag of pills,  "This shit's gonna kill you,"
Al sat down and wiped the rest of his face, "I don't know where he is."
"Of course you don't, you're tripped out," I poured the bullets out of the gun and left it on the refrigerator, dropping the bullets in my pocket.
"I'm sorry...."
"I don't really care anymore Al. I've given up on you," I opened the door and turned around, "Next time I see you you'll be in a body bag..."

Al was never my friend, my brother or my lover - he protected me. I went to him when school sucked and when my basketball was as flat as my mother's income. Now he's your typical 26 year old gang drug addict, my respect for him disappeared with his state of mind.

I sat in my Viper, trying not to think anymore, when my in-car phone unfortunately rang.
"What?"
"This is getting ridiculous Kirby, do I have to watch you every God damn second?"
"Of course not Orrie, that would be an inconvenience,"
"Get in here,"
"No."
"GET IN HERE,"

"I thought we had a mutual trust Kirby, but then you go and take matters into your own hands," Orrie's cigarette clouded his face with smoke, I went into the room and sat across from him.
"Oh, so I guess what I should have done is just sit back and relax, have a smoke maybe?"
He glared at me, "He was a fuckin trainee, this happens all the time,"
"He was a fuckin GOOD trainee,"
"SO WHAT? Do you know how many of our GOOD trainees are killed every year, do you??"
"This is different...."
"For God's sake, he can be replaced," Orrie took a long drag of his cigarette.
"Orrie......Please, I'm begging you - let me find him,"
"WHY?"
"He'll be the best thing the Pepper Sector has ever known,"
Orrie was quiet, sending a penetrating stare my way, "This happened with Orland ten years ago...The O's took him right out of his house too, as soon as we heard we figured he was dead, but he showed up a year later and now look at him, he's Assistant Manager,"
I bit back a giant grin, I knew he would make this work for me.
"I suppose you want us to fund all of this?" He said again.
"Yes." I said, taking out one of my own cigarettes.
"Well," He rubbed his left eye for a moment with his head bowed, "I guess it can't hurt. Go on, bring him back,"

Time for an explanation? I guess. My name is Kirby Bloom and I work for an organization called the Pepper Sector. We were hired by the FBI to investigate homicide and crime within gangs, specifically in Los Angeles. I'm 21 years old with only a little experience, I wouldn't be here if I hadn't grown up right in the heart of the biggest gang in L.A - The O's.

About a month ago we hired a new trainee, fresh out of the academy. I hired him of course, he was quick and learned fast, perfect for the job. His name was Hanson, also 21. Then only two days ago, the O's took him right off his front porch. It's my responsibility to find this guy. He'll be an asset to the Sector, I know it. Hell, he could even be better than me.

-----------------
Being manager of trainees, I have the second largest unit in the Sector, making me the second most powerful employee....not bad for 21.
Secretaries ran around with loads of paper and empty coffee cups, frantically emptying 'out' boxes before a fresh set of papers filled it. My assistant came up towards me.
"Logan, what's new?"
"Tyrone called about a half hour ago,"
"Tyrone? What?"
"Says he has news after all...."
I ran straight past Logan and to my office phone.
"Tyrone? What the hell's going on?"
"Kirb, don't get pissed at me, I wanted to tell you before but....I dunno, it wasn't right,"
"You didn't wanna look like a loser in front of your friends,"
He was silent...."Look, I know where Hanson is,"
"WHAT? YOU STILL TALK TO TICKA?"
"He's a good man, Kirb,"
"He's a member of the fuckin O's, I don't care if he's good," I sighed and tried to calm down.
"Chili, I'll be here til 2, come down and talk, I'm at Dom's,"
"Fine....Fine..."

The tires screeched around the corner as I braced myself before knocking on Dom’s door, hazy on what it might entail.
“Tyrone.......Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“You said it before K, I wanna have respect,”
“That’s all that matters to you isn’t it? A 21 year old guy’s life is not important, no way. You should be ashamed, your gang doesn’t deserve its name...the ‘good guys’ my ass.”
“I’m sorry ok!” I was getting to him, he was burning mad, but only at himself. He shook his head and moved over to the other couch, leaning over, still shaking his head.
“You’re still my friend Tye, you know it. You just fuck up sometimes...Do you wanna come get him with me? I could use some muscle...”
Birdie looked up at me in thought, looked over at Dom and nodded.

“Left down here?”
“Yeah,”
The Viper revved down the street and around the corner, I knew Hanson was close, I could just feel it.
I parked the car hidden behind a dumpster in an alley.
“Here,” I handed Tye a loaded pistol out of a hidden compartment under my feet. He smiled and we got out of the car.
The street was dark, despite the early afternoon sun. The warehouse we’d been tipped off to was silent. We stood staring at the door that was twice our size, the paint peeling of the sides and bolts falling out of place - breaking in would be no problem at all.
“Wait,” Tyrone stopped me from attempting to open the door, “I think we better go in through a window or somethin'...we dunno where this leads, they could shoot us in the head before we get to close the door behind us,”
“You’re right,” I went over to the near by fire escape and started climbing towards the top floor five storeys up, Tyrone following.
I wasn't scared. In situations like this, there's never any time to be scared. All I feel now is the strongest want for this to go right, for Hanson to be ok, that's all that matters right now. As we neared the third floor, thumping music sounded through the brick walls - rap music. I pointed up towards the fourth floor and continued up the stairs, thinking we could go in from above. I fished the large silver pistol out of my waist band and opened the window. The third floor was empty, the music still faint through the stair well.
"Typical...2Pac," Tye whispered. I tried not to laugh out loud and instead signalled for him to be quiet. I stopped in my tracks soon after.
"Can you hear that....?" I asked as quietly as I could. In the distance was a muffled voice, they would say something for about 30 seconds, stop for a while then start talking again.
"It's Hanson,"
We crossed the room, dodging broken picture frames and bar heaters until we reached the door.
"Tye, he's in that room, ok. But I also know that there's someone in there with him. You grab Hanson and we'll go out the way we came in as fast as we can, alright?"
Tyrone nodded, I armed my gun and kicked the door in. A fat black man stood up in shock, before he said a word I shot him in the thigh. Tyrone already had Hanson and we were crawling out of the window when the rest of the gang were just coming up the stairs. We practically slid down the stairs and bolted for the Viper, Tye trying to hold Hanson securely on his lap. I punched it on the accelerator in case anyone tried to shoot and hurt my precious car.

I took the back way to my place once I was sure no one had bothered to follow. I parked in my drive way and turned off the engine, raced into the house and set up the couch properly as Tye carried Hanson in. I prepared a bowl of warm water and disinfectant as he set him down.
Then I finally got a look at the poor guy. His face was pretty badly beaten. His left eye was red raw and extremely swollen. His lips were cracked and little nicks and grazes covered his cheeks. I wiped the dirt of his face and tried my hardest to prevent infection, I think I might have gotten in just in time.
"Shouldn't he be in the hospital?"
"For a few abrasions? He'll be fine,"
"The FBI has a clinic,"
"Tye, for God's sake, he'll be ok. We got him this far, didn't we? His heart's still beating, I can take care of him,"

I looked away from Tyrone and continued dabbing at the painful looking sores.
"You can't replace Tom..."
I stared at Tyrone, unable to prevent the tears, "Fuck off...leave now,"
He slowly turned around, glanced over one last time and left.

Who said I was trying to replace Tom? No one can ever replace Tom, not even the greatest god.
"Who's Tom?"
I jumped in un expectancy as Hanson's puffy red eyes looked up at me.
"You're awake......How do you feel?"
"My head is pounding...and I don't know where the hell I am...."
"You're at my house, it's me, Kirby,"
"I know who you are,"
"Does your face hurt?"
"Yes, but it's been hurting for a while now...My head hurts more."
"You probably have a concussion...Do you know when your head started hurting?"

"No, I can't remember..."
"Well I don't wanna risk it getting any worse, looks like I'll have to take you to the clinic after all. Are you ok to walk?"

"I think so,"
He pulled himself up to stand on his wobbly legs, he grabbed my shoulder for support and I buckled him into the car.
"Kirby...."
"Yeah? Is there something wrong?"
"Who's Tom?"
I sighed deeply and concentrated on the road, "He.......he was my old partner...The O's shot him in a drive-by last year....They didn't even know him...It was just...some...random killing, they do it all the god damn time,"
"You loved him, didn't you?"
"We were supposed to get married," I turned the music on, "But fuck that, right?"
"I'm sorry..."
"It doesn't matter. I've learned to live with it,"
"Thank you for saving my life,"
Hanson drifted off into sleep as I cried to myself, thinking of nothing but Tom.
The clinic, which in other words was a mini hospital within the FBI, was deserted once we got there. It's only ever used to aid injured officers which, oddly, never seems to happen.
"Bloom? What the hell are you doing here?"
"I've got a badly injured trainee, name's Hanson. Now, Parker, if you don't ask any questions then I'm sure we'll prevent any further damage,"
"You like your agents in perfect health,"
"Exactly,"
Parker took off to the nurse's station to prepare the medical supplies while I helped Hanson onto a stretcher.
"Hey Kirby," Hanson called.
"Yeah?"
"My name's Taylor,"