Episode One - YELLOW AMENDS - 10/04/12
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EXT. DOCKSIDE WAREHOUSE - NIGHT 1/62 Swooping in hard and low down the river. Heading for this same warehouse. The sounds of a bedlam building. INT. DOCKSIDE WAREHOUSE - NIGHT 1/63 That seething, clamorous mass of men - once more baying on their two men in the ring. DRAKE and a shorter, squatter BULL of a man. DRAKE’S reach and superior skill have opened up a fierce cut above BULL’S left eye. A gash that DRAKE is intent on working on - his jab flying out, connecting. Blood spraying from the wound into the laps of the SAILORS sat adjacent to the ring. They scream their approval. BULL - a judicious time out. He drops to one knee. DRAKE withdraws. In the crowd, find: JACKSON - sat on his own, smoking a cheroot, enjoying himself; CONSTABLE HOBBS - lent against a pillar, another PLAINCLOTHES by his side. He nods for another two PLAINCLOTHES sat up in the bleachers, looking down - perhaps four rows beneath them - to REID and JOSEPH SMEATON, sat together, exchanging glances, readying themselves as -- In the ring - the UMPIRE draws that chalk square, writes a number 5 next to it -- UMPIRE (bellowing it out) Five! DRAKE - preparing himself, dances from foot to foot, glances out to the crowd, meets REID’S eye. And turns back to his opponent to see -- The BULL’S SECOND - helping his man into a new pair of shoes. Sharp, evil RUNNER’S SPIKES on the sole. The crowd - seeing this, word spreading. The audible rush of excitement. REID - can’t help himself; gets to his feet. But SMEATON’S got him. Pulls him back down -- SMEATON Prize Ring conditions still provide for ‘em. (a laugh)
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Besides - he don’t have to deal with it too long now, does he?
REID - having to sit. Hating it.
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