Transcript: Heaven Heist - ACT 1 Read Through

Story Break Heaven Heist Opener music, a very Hollywood thriller track

Will: Welcome to Story Break, a a writer's room podcast where three Hollywood professionals write an entire movie, scene by scene, page by page, one hour at a time. I'm Will Campos, screenwriter flying solo today, as the story boys are still scattered to the winds, for the holiday season.

Don't fret, we've got a special treat for all of you today: starting next week, we are going to be diving back in on Heaven Heist: The gripping tale of a group of criminals robbing the celestial vault of heaven. And to get everybody back up to speed, we've cut together a recap of the story so far. What you're about to hear is the entire first act of Heaven Heist. The whole script, read by us as we were doing every week as the show was going on, during the course of us writing it last year. We've take all those scenes, we've put them all together. And I've gotta say it's pretty cool! It's like listening to like the first act of a really thrilling audio drama.

So sit back, relax. Open the theater of the mind. The imagination. And let Heaven Heist steal you away.

Heaven Heist Music

Will as Script: EXT. Shrine. Day.

A well worn statue of Caishen, the Chinese god of wealth and prosperity, sits in a shrine in a public park overlooking Kowloon Bay. Atop is tiger wielding the golden rod, Caishen smiles up through a big bushy mustache as two adorable children- Keith and Julia- kneel before the shrine, hands clasped around burning incense sticks as they offer a prayer.

Freddie as child: Here, Caishen. Please bring wealth and prosperity to mommy and daddy's new restaurant. They work so hard, and we just want them to be happy again.

Script: As the kids pray, a shadow falls over them, as four omninous figures in cool suits step up to the shrine. Tequila, a gruff, burly gangster, grabs the kids by the scruff and shoves them away from the shrine.

Matt as Tequila: Scram, brats. We're in a hurry here.

Script: Julie and Keith run away crying.

Freddie makes crying sounds

Script: Tequila and three more gangsters kneel at the shrine. Tequila offers an orange to Caishen.

Tequila: Oh wise and benevolent Caishen, please watch over my crew and let today's currency heist be an especially prosperous one.

Script: He elbows the next gangster in line, Brandy, 20s, bomber jacket, mean scowl.

Tequila: Brandy, you're up.

Script: Brandy cracks her knuckles and ponies up an orange.

Freddie as Brandy: Caishen, please let my shotgun aim true.

Tequila: Hey, hey! No killing today.

Script: Brandy rolls her eyes.

Brandy: Then let my knuckles make a dentist very prosperous.

Script: Tequila looks past her at Cognac, fancy pantsuit, $4000 sunglasses, super cool demeanor. She sets an orange on the shrine.

Tequila: Cognac.

Freddie as Cognac: Please let my Jimmy Choos go unscuffed, and should the security camera pick me up, please let my hair look AMAZING.

Tequila: No one's gonna see your hair! We're all wearing these!

Script: He throws a ski mask at her. She looks at it with disgust.

Tequila: Whisky, let's go.

Script: Tequila glances at Whisky, 19, acne, ill-fitting reservoir dogs suit. Whisky nervously offers his orange and offers a prayer.

Freddie as Whisky: Please watch over those kids and let their parents find happiness-

Script: All the other gangsters whack him on the head in annoyance.

Whisky crying out in pain in the bg

Script: He offers a second orange.

Whisky: Please make sure no one gets hurt on our heist today.

Script: All the gangsters bow in reference. A scowl forms on Tequila's face as he tosses a sarcastic question over his shoulder.

Tequila: Last chance, Gin. anything you'd like to add?

Script: Cocky Kyle, AKA Gin, a jaded, handsome gangster, leans out the window from behind the wheel of a Hong Kong taxi cab. He takes a cigarette out of his mouth and takes a big chomp from an orange.

Freddie as Gin: No.

Tequila: Hey! Those oranges were an offering!

Script: Kyle, indifferent, takes one last drag from his cigarette then flicks it at the shrine. All four gangsters gasp in horror as the cigarette flies past them and bounces off Caishen. Whisky hurriedly dusts off the statue and bows profusely.

Whisky: Please forgive our getaway driver.

Gin: We're late. Let's go.

Script: The gangsters walk over to the car and hop inside. Tequila buckles into the passenger seat and shakes his head at Kyle.

Tequila: You're going to Hell, you know that?

Gin: Ain't no such thing. Babeeeee!

The bois laugh.

Script: Kyle stomps on the gas, the tires peel out and smoke rises into the air as we pan across the bay to the glittering lights of Hong Kong.

Freddie, others joining: Doo di di di doo doo!

Script: INT/EXT. Currency exchange store. Day.

Funky 70s music in bg

Script: Over credits, a fast and fluid montage of shots as our crew of criminals knock over a currency exchange store. Tequila, posing as a TV repairman, enters the store, toolbox in hand. A relieved employee spots him and leads him through a door past a bulletproof glass window. As he steps through the door, Tequila puts a piece of tape over the door's lock, keeping it ever so slightly open.

Busy place foley joins the music

Script: A security guard yawning in the corner looks up to see Cognac and Brandy, ski masks on, busting through the door. Before he can even shout in protest, Brandy cracks him across the jaw with a big, beefy punch. The two ladies slip through the open doors as the security guard crumples to the floor.

Crowd and cars foley

Script: Outside, Whisky, disguised as an environmental activist, unfurls a big standing banner in front of the currency exchange store window, obscuring the robbery inside. The banner reads: Save our Planet. Clutching a clipboard, Whisky starts pestering passers by to sign a petition. They all hurriedly cross the street away from the heist.

Tequila pulls two bundles of zip ties from his toolbox and chucks one to Brandy. They set about tying the employee and security guard beneath the bulk room window as Cognac cracks the safe with a suite of high-tech gizmos. One of gizmo doohickys beeps expensively-

''Freddy laughs like a demon. Will has to recover from a laugh himself.''

Script: -And the safe swings open, revealing huge stacks of cold, hard cash. Gin, sitting behind the wheel of an idling taxi cab, smiles as he watches the crew stroll casually out of the store, dufflebags slung over their shoulders. He puts the ON DUTY light on his cab as they climb inside. The gang drives off with no-one the wiser.

Sirens 

Script: INT. Cab. Day.

A line of speeding cop cars zoom by in the opposite direction as Gin drives our crew away from the crime scene. Whisky, stuffed in the middle seat in the back between Cognac and Brandy, flips through a big stack of cash, awestruck. Tequila scolds him from the front seat.

Tequila: Hey! Hide that cash, dummy.

Script: Cognac pleads with Tequila as she pours herself a snifter of cognac from a flask.

Cognac: Oh, let the kid have his fun. He's never seen that much money in his life.

Tequila: No drinking in the car!

Script: Whisky strokes the money and rubs it against his face.

Whisky: Oh my gosh! I can finally go to college with this!

Script: Brandy scoffs as she loads and reloads her shotgun.

Shotgun reloading foley

Matt as Brandy: College is for people who don't know how to shoot shotguns.

Tequila: Put that gun away.

Script: Brandy gives him a defiant scowl as she pumps the shotgun. Tequila fumes. Gin rolls his eyes and turns up the radio.

Jazz music, interrupted by a nokia ringtone.

Script: Cool jazz pumps through the speakers and gets cut off by the chime of a ringing phone hooked up to the bluetooth. Gin's eyes shoot wide open. His phone sitting on the dashboard lights up. The caller ID reads "Mom". Gin quickly hangs up the phone. Tequila's jaw drops.

Tequila: Did you just hang up on your mom?!

Gin: We're on the job.

Tequila: She's your mom.

Gin: Give me a break, Confucius.

Script: The phone rings again.

Tequila: She's calling back! It must be an emergency.

Script: Gin hangs up the phone. Everyone gasps, outraged.

Cognac: Dude, that's cold blooded.

Whisky: I'd be so grounded for that.

Script: The screen lights up again. "New voicemail, mom." Gin reaches for the phone. Tequila snatches it away from him first. Gin frowns and speeds up, trying to focus on the road. Tequila plays the voicemail. He stares daggers at Gin as he listens along.

Tequila: She's wondering if you're OK.

Brandy: Aww. She sounds nice.

Tequila: She wants to know if you're coming to dinner tonight. She's cooking your favorite! Spaghetti and meatballs.

Whisky: I love Italian food. Can she adopt me?

Script: Gin fumes in silent rage as the cab rolls to a stop at a red light.

Gin: Hang up the phone, 'Quila.

Tequila: She's scared something happened to you. She's calling your brother.

Script: The phone rings again. A photo of a smiling Buddhist monk appears on screen. The caller ID reads "Brother". Gin finally snaps. He snatches the phone and mashes to answer.

Gin: I'M WORKING!

Script: In rage, Gin throws the phone out the window.

Freddie makes a chucking noise.

Script: It hits a traffic cop in the back of the head. The crew freezes in terror. The cop, busy writing a ticket for a parked car, bends down, picks up the phone and slowly turns to face them. She's pissed.

Matt as Traffic Cop: Hey! Did you throw this phone?

Tequila: Hide the gun! Hide the cash! Hide the booze!

Script: Whisky, Cognac and Brandy all scramble to hide the flask, cash and shotgun into the dufflebag.

Whisky: She's coming! Hurry!

Cognac: Way to go, Gin.

Brandy: What are you trying to do, get us all killed?

Script: As they shove the duffle bag under the front seat, Brandy's shotgun fires.

Gun shooting

Script: The bag explodes. The blast knocks the door off the hinges. The cop dives for cover. When she looks up, she's facing a smouldering cab with no side door and hundreds of flaming bills fluttering in the air. Out gangsters stare at her for a dumbstruck beat. The cop grabs her radio.

Traffic Cop: I need backup!

Engine revving and tires squealing.

Script: Jin stomps on the gas and the cab peels rubber down the road.

Suspenseful music + Sirens

Script: INT. Taxi cab. Day.

Sirens howls around the cab as the cops pursue our criminal crew from all sides. Gin grips the wheel and adjusts his mirrors, getting a good look at the cops behind him.

Gin: Everybody buckle up.

Script: Tequila shakes his head.

Tequila: You and your temper.

Script: Seat belts click as Tequila, Cognac and Brandy buckle up. Whisky looks down in fear as he realizes he doesn't have seat belt.

Whisky: Uhh. I don't have a seat belt.

Script: Brandy and Cognac stick their arms out in front of him. Whisky holds onto them for dear life. Gin draws a deep breath, steadying his nerves. He pulls out an unlit cigarette and sticks it between his lips. He exhales and stomps the gas. As he spins the wheel and throws the car around the corner, he kick of a bitchin' car chase.

EXT. Hong Kong. Day.

Gin flies like a bat-out-of-hell through the crowded streets of Hong Kong. His moves are slick, cunning, precise. Hairpin maneuvers, daring drifts, audacious, hair raising shortcuts down blind alleys and through oncoming traffic. Behind him, cops in pursuit crash and spin out, but that traffic cop, riding her motorcycle with a steely glare sticks them through it all like glue. Gin furrows his brow, grips the wheel tight, traffic cop still hot on their trail. He makes a sharp turn into a busy street and finds himself hurtling toward a bumper to bumper traffic jam.

Gin slams on the breaks, barely avoiding a wreck. Up the street, two buses have collided in an intersection.

Will: Inininnersecsha- this is why you read your script out loud.

Script: Up the street, two buses have collided In An Intersection. The drivers yell at each other as everyone honks their horns.

INT. Cab. Day.

With no way forward and the cops closing in fast behind, the crew begins to panic.

Whisky: We're trapped! We gotta run for it!

Tequila: We run, we're dead. Just stay calm.

Script: But Tequila looks to Gin with worry in his eyes. Gin narrows his focus, scanning the environment as the sirens grow louder, and he spots his exit plan. Gin shifts into reverse, floors it, weaving backward through the oncoming cops, and pulls into a nearby parking garage.

INT. Parking Garage/INT. Cab. Day.

Gin zooms through the parking garage, climbing higher and higher.

Tequila: Uh, Gin?

Gin: Shut up and hang on.

Script: The traffic cop snarls as she revs her engine, pursuing them up through the garage, two police cars behind her.

EXT. Parking garage roof. Day.

The cab zooms out onto the roof of the parking garage. Gin punches the gas and the cab speeds straight toward the wall. A look of fear fills the traffic cop's eyes as she realizes what they're about to do.

INT. Cab. Day.

The gangsters scream as Gin rams the cab through the wall and sends them flying through the air.

Matt and Freddie scream unconvincingly

Script: EXT. Hong Kong streets. Day.

The cab sails off of the three story parking garage, toward the intersection below and lands on top of the empty double-decker buses, driving across their roofs, before landing on the opposite side of the intersection, leaving the cops trapped in the traffic jam on the other side.

EXT. Parking garage roof. Day.

The traffic cop skids to a halt at the edge of the roof. She watches the cab speeding off into the distance below. In rage, she lets out a scream and fires her pistol into the air like Keanu Reeves in Point Break.

Gun firing

Freddie: (laughing) Is this traffic cop gonna be a character that comes back?

Will: I don't know, I'm obsessed with her now.

Freddie laughs.

Script: INT. Cab. Day.

The gangsters give a raucous, triumphant cheer. Whisky turns green, about to hurl. Tequila gives Gin a proud pat on the shoulder. Gin suppresses a grin. He looks down at the unlit cigarette in his lips. With a cocky, relaxed smile, he pulls out a zippo and starts up a flame.

Intense music

Script: Just then, an old lady steps out onto the road in front of them. Cue super-slow motion.

Freddie does dubstep noises.

Script: Gin stares at the old woman. For the first time, fear fills his face. He scans the environment. To the left, a wall of oncoming traffic. To the right, the churning waters of Kowloon Bay. Ahead of him, the old woman looks up and locks eyes with Gin. Gin winces, grabs the wheel and spins it to the right. End slow motion.

The cab veers sharply, clips the curb-

Freddie: Sorry, sorry. Small point. It would be to the left. Because it's Hong Kong. They drive on the left.

Will: Oooooohhhh. Ok.

Matt: Cinema sins Freddie at it again.

Freddie laughs

Will: In Hong Kong, the ocean is always on the left.

Script: End slow motion. The cab veers sharply, clips the curb, goes into a roll, smashes in a guard rail and careens in Kowloon Bay. As the cab hits the water, we cut to black.

Seagull noises, fading out to the sound of foghorns.

Script: INT. Ferry boat. Day.

Gin winces with terror, braced for impact, hands outstretched, holding a non-existent steering wheel. After a moment, he opens his eyes in confusion and realizes he is sitting on a long bench in a mostly empty ferry boat. Gin looks around, puzzled. He spots a few more people seated around the ferry, each looking a bit dazed. Silence hangs in the air. Gin peers out a nearby window but sees nothing but thick white fog.

Suddenly a middle aged man appears next to him, giving an agonized moan and clutching at his heart. Gin stares at him, surprised. The man looks up at him with blank confusion. More people are appearing out of thin air every few seconds all around the ferry, each of them playing out the last moments of their life on earth.

An old woman in a hospital gown wakes up from a peaceful slumber. A soaking wet snorkler coughs up water from his lungs. A depressed salary man holds an invisible gun to his head, then looks up in confusion, hugging his temple.

A look of realization slowly dawns on Gin's face. His jaw goes slack with a grim epiphany, then, with a sigh and a shrug, he leans back in his seat. The other passengers, by contract, cry, panic and babble in wonderment as they process what's happened to them.

Gin pulls out a cigarette and tries to light it up, but his zippo won't spark. He frowns and glances around. Up at the front of the ferry he spots and angel in a bright blue uniform, sitting on a stool and reading the newspaper.

Newspaper crumbling.

Script: Gin gets up and heads to the angel. A buzz of voices fills the air- the ferry now brimming full of deceased passengers. Gin nods to the angel.

Gin: Hey pal, got a light?

Matt as Angel: No fire.

Gin: Huh?

Script: The angel, annoyed, folds down his paper and barks at Gin.

Angel: There's no fire here. Just smoke it.

Gin: How?

Script: The angel goes back to his paper, ignoring him. Gin looks down at his unlit cigarette and takes a drag. To his surprised, the tip glows orange and his lungs fill with smoke. He smiled, impressed. Heavenly bells chime over a nearby intercom speaker. The ferry jostles to a halt. The angel sets his newspaper down and grabs a megaphone.

Angel(Over intercom): Attention please? You've arrived at the gates of the afterlife. Please exit to the right, watch your step, and follow the red signs to your final judgement.

Crowd noises

Script: A bustled of commotion as people get up from their seats, still baffled and terrified. The angel brushes past Gin and opens the front door. His face fills with awe as he pulls out a puff of smoke beholding!

Heavenly chorus music

Script: EXT. The afterlife. Day.

A massive, sparkling city in the clouds. The dense skyline stretches for miles into the air. It's like 20 Hong Kongs stacked on top of each other. The city if ringed by a massive wall, dotted with gates along its base. Long docs stretch out from each of the gates, filled with huge lines of passengers disembarking from ferries.

A dazed Gin walks in a long line, shuffling forward. Another angel paces back and forth beside the line, looking as bored as can be and as she repeats a well worn speech.

Freddie as Angel 2: You have died and are currently dead. Please proceed forward in a calm and orderly fashion. In a few moments you'll be weighed on the karmic scales of justice to determine your placement in the afterlife. Americans, please do not remove your shoes when stepping on the karmic scale. Once again, you have died, and are currently dead-

Script: The middle aged woman in front of Gin suddenly drops to her knees, having a full on existential breakdown.

Matt as Woman: No, no! Oh God! I'm not ready for this- send me back!

Angel 2: Ma'am- ma'am. I'm sorry ma'am, please keep moving. No new prayers will be considered at this time.

Script: The woman lets out a wail of despair. The angel frowns. She whispers into her walkie talkie.

Angel 2: (sighs) We've got a weeper at gate 32.

Script: She looks up to Gin and gestures for him to move up to a new line.

Angel 2: Sir, sir, please go on ahead to the next gate over.

Script: She points to gate 33, off to the right, currently with no line. Gin moves out of line and scoots past the wailing woman on the ground.

EXT. Gate 33. Day.

Gin steps up to gate 33. In front of a glittering golden gate sits a cheery angel at a tiny desk. Next to him stands a big cylindrical scanner like the ones you see at a TSA check.

As he reaches the gate, Gin sees a person standing in the scanner, looking nervous as he awaits his fate. The scanner churns and hums. The angel stands at a small screen at the side of the scanner, rubbing his chin. Curious, Gin cranes his neck to see what's on the screen.

ON SCREEN. A frenetic montage of first-person memories flicker past. The man's life flashing before the eyes of the cheery little angel. Gin sees glimpses of police sirens, bloody hands, firing pistols, the last moment of a life of crime. Suddenly with a muzzle flash, the montage ends and the screen shines red. The angel winces.

Matt as Cheery Little Angel: Oof, tough break. Next stop: the Hell of Disembowelments!

Script: The angel mashes a button on the scanner and the bottom falls out. Red light and the infernal sounds of human misery fill the air as the man in the scanner plummets, screaming, into an infernal abyss. The scanner slides shut and the cheery little angel looks up at Gin with a smile.

Cheery Little Angel: Next contestant, please! Step on up!

Script: Gin, growing unnerved, takes a step forward.

Cheery Little Angel: Come on, come on, no reason to fret. The last guy was a ruthless criminal! A bank robber! I'm sure you'll do fine, sonny.

Script: Gin gulps and steps into the scanner, raising his hands.

Cheery Little Angel: And away we go!

Script: The scanner presses a button and the scanner rumbles to life. Beams of light whoosh up and down all over Gin's body. Gin gives a nervous glance over to the angel. He can't see the screen from inside the scanner, but he can see the angel's smile slowing fade into a grim, purse-lipped frown.

The scanner turns louder and faster, the lights spin and swirl. Fear breaks out on Gin's face. He's sweating bullets. Gin looks down and shuffles into a wider stance, trying to brace himself against the frame of the scanner. He sticks his hands to the glass but they slip off. He squints his eyes shut, braced for the absolute worst.

A cheery bell chimes and the scanner door slides open. Gin looks up in stunned relief. The angel pokes his head in, smiling.

Cheery Little Angel: Ho-boy, that was a squeaker! I had you pegged for the Hell of Burning Oils. Good thing you saved that old lady right at the end there. Right this way, please!

Script: Gin tries to look unsurprised with a nonchalant shrug and a puff of his cigarette and almost pulls it off except for his trembling hands. The squeak of an opening gate draws his gaze upward and his eyes fill with awe as gate 33 opens and a golden light of heaven spills onto his face.

movie music 

Script: EXT. Heaven City. Day.

Gin steps through the gates and beholds a bustling metropolis on the other side, surreal in size and scope. A thousand glittering skyscrapers loom large, looking down on busy streets packed with people. For a moment Gin just stares up in awe at the sheer scale of this place.

Then the booming Vroom of a luxury sports car's engine draws his gaze back down to the street. Gin finds himself standing on a crowded sidewalk under the shadow of the gates. It's pretty much like that passenger pickup zone of a busy airport. Tons of recently deceased people mill about as an array of bitchin' luxury whips pull up to the curb to receive them. It's lambos and bugatis galore.

A golden horse-drawn buggy pulls up right in front of Gin. A dapper old gent in a fancy suit steps out. The old woman standing next to Gin gasps and cries with joy upon seeing him. They rush into each other's arms and embrace.

Freddy as Old Woman: My love!

Matt as Dapper Old Gent: I'm so happy to see you, darling! And I'm not the only one!

Script: The old man opens the door of the buggy and dozens of corgis rush out, ecstatic, and greet the old woman with tails wagging away.

whining and barking

Old Woman: My babies!

Script: Amazingly, one of the dogs talks back to her in a soothing baritone voice.

Will as Corgi: At last, you have returned to us, mother.

Script: Gin watches the joyous reunion, one of dozens happening all around him with a disaffected smirk. But after a moment, he can't help but search amongst the crowd for a familiar face. Then the shrill beep of a bike horn cuts through the air.

Freddie as Grandma: Kyle! Kyle!

Script: Gin looks up, his eyes shoot wide as he sees Grandma, 80s, a salty looking badass on a beat up old moped, rocking huge old-lady sunglasses, a cigarette dangling from her lip. She grins as she revs her engine and pulls up next to Gin on the sidewalk. A smile and a pang of emotion swell on Gin's face.

Matt as Gin: Grandma?

Grandma: I couldn't believe it when they told me you made it up here! Kyle? That little brat? I had you pegged for the Hell of Snake Torture, tops!

Gin: Nice to see you too, Gram Gram. Where's everyone else?

Grandma: Not a whole lot of us make it up here. Now quit yappin' and hop on! I gotta get to the bank before work.

Script: Confusion flashes on Gin's face as he hops on behind Grandma.

Gin: Work?

Script: Grandma guns the engine and the moped lurches forward with a screech of the tires. She swerves around that talking dog as it's loading back up into the golden buggy.

Corgi: I say there! Watch the road!

Script: Grandma and Jin zoom off towards the city as the moped's engine whines. The dog shakes his head and mutters to another dog.

Corgi: They'll let anyone in here these days.

Script: EXT. Heaven streets. Day.

moped foley

Grandma zooms through a busy street as Gin clings on behind her. Gin looks around, taking in the sights of the city.

Grandma: Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm really glad you're here. With you and me both making deliveries we can double our profits!

Gin: Profits? I thought this was Heaven. What do you need money for?

Script: Grandma gives a wry chuckle.

Grandma: What do you not need it for, huh? Food, rent, entertainment- I'm saving up for a big flat screen TV. I want my Ashton Kutcher life sized! I wanna touch him.

Jin: Ughhh.

classical music

Script: EXT. A fancy town home, day.

Grandma hands a to-go bag of Hainan chicken to a sharply dressed snob standing in the doorway of his fancy town home. We hear the noise of an elegant cocktail party in the background. The man chucks a handful of coins at Grandma and shuts the door in her face. Grandma counts her coins as she walks back toward Gin, sitting on the moped, staring in disbelief.

Gin: I gotta admit this isn't exactly what I was expecting. I thought it'd be more like...

Script: Grandma revs the engine and they take off once more down the street.

Grandma: Like what?

Script: Gin spots something on the side of a passing building.

Gin: Uh, like that.

Script: Grandma looks up. Gin points to a huge mural depicting a tranquil scene of paradise. Dozens of people in simple robes in a wide, serene meadow, each resting under a tree, sitting on a rock, and staring out at the beautiful pond. Grandma scoffs.

Grandma: It used to be. Back in the day all this place was a tree to sit under, a rock to sit on and a pond to stare at. Luckily, some genius back on earth got the idea to pay their respects by burning stuff to send it up here, and that's how we got all this.

Script: Grandma hangs a turn onto Market Street. Gin's eyes go wide.

EXT. Market Street. Day.

The moped drives down a bustling street market with stores selling everything and anything. Grandma weaves the moped through a throng of people hawking and haggling people over cell phones, Maseratis, priceless art and fancy clothes from every era of history.

Grandma: Everything that gets sent up from Earth can be yours- for the right price. If you want money, there's only two ways to get it: Either you earn it or they burn it.

Script: Grandma parks her moped in front of a large, imposing building that looks like an ancient Chinese palace. The sign out front reads "Celestial Bank of Heaven". Grandma hops off the moped. Gin follows her up the steps toward the bank, giving a weary glance to an angelic security guard along the way.

INT. Bank of Heaven. Day.

Inside the temple resembles a bustling modern bank. Grandma and Gin step up to a teller's window. A cheery angel sits on the other side.

Grandma: Anything from my ungrateful family?

Script: The teller peers at her computer screen, fingers flying over a keyboard.

Bank Angel: Eh, let's see, yes. There was a deposit last week.

Script: She punches a button and WHOOSH! A small canister arrives at the window through an elaborate pneumatic tube system. Grandma pops open the canister and empties it's contents into her hands. A measly handful of gold coins tumbles out along with a note. The note reads "Love you Grandma- Ken."

Grandma sighs as she looks at the note then holds it up to Jin.

Grandma: Well bless that brother of yours. He's the only one of you bums who ever sends me money. Too bad he's taken that vow of poverty.

Script: Grandma crumples the note and heads for the door.

EXT. Bank of Heaven. Day.

Grandma stands on the steps counting her coins. Gin glances around at the other people exiting the bank. Rich folks in fancy clothes haul wheelbarrows full of gold into their waiting luxury cars. A pang of resentment shoots across Gin's face.

Grandma: Now, since you never started a family or made any friends, you're gonna be a little cash-poor up hear until our business picks up. But don't worry, Grandma's got your back.

Script: She takes half her coins and puts them in Gin's hand. But before he can pocket them, she starts taking coins away.

Grandma: Minus room and board, minus moped deposit, minus delivery uniform, minus delivery uniform embroidery, hey! What size jumpsuit do you wear?

Script: Gin looks down at his palm, one lousy gold coin left. He lets out an impatient sigh.

Gin: Grandma, I'm not gonna-

Grandma: Don't worry. Don't worry. This isn't a charity, it's a loan. You're gonna pay me back. With interest. So let's get to work! The lunch rush is coming up!

Script: She hops back onto her moped and fires it up. Gin lingers behind.

Gin: Hey! All due respect Grandma, but slinging Hainan chicken all over town for the next ten-millions years is not my idea of paradise.

Grandma: Well, kid, you've got two options. Either you join the rat race and carve out a little piece of eternity for yourself, or you can join the wannabe Buddhas in the park and try to reach enlightenment.

Script: She nods over to a nearby park. The scene resembles the mural we saw earlier: people in simple robes sitting on rocks under trees staring out at little ponds.

Grandma: They say that if you figure it out, you ascend to a higher plane of existence filled with emotions a million times more powerful than love.

Script: Gin studies the wannabe Buddhas with a skeptical glance. Many meditate in silence, but others all manner of ritual: balancing on one foot, bathing in the pond, dancing, hanging upside down from the tree. Anything and everything to unlock the secrets of the universe.

Gin: How long does that usually take?

Grandma: Beats the heck outta me! I haven't seen it once since I got here! But hey. Maybe you'll be the one to figure it out. Think you've got the Buddha nature, Gin? Or you wanna get to work and make that paper?

Script: She hops into her moped and guns the engine. Gin looks to the monks, then back at his Grandma, then lets out a long weary sigh. He flips the coin in the air and opens his shirt pocket beneath it. But right as the gold coin falls, into his pocket we cut to-

EXT. Overpass. Day.

Gin, soaking wet, snaps awake under a dingy overpass next to Kowloon Bay. He looks down at his open shirt then up at Tequila, standing over him with a pair of smoking jumper cables. Tequila sighs with relief. Behind Tequila, Whisky sticks his head out of the window of a hot wired car. The jumper cables snake from the open hood to Tequila's hands.

Whisky: Did it work?

Tequila: It worked. You lucky bastard.

Script: Gin, still dazed, coughs up a lung full of water. Tequila lifts him to his feet and helps him over towards the car.

Jin: What happened to the money?

Script: Cognac, busy fishing loose bills out of the bay, glowers at Gin as she stuffs a wad of wet currency into her pockets.

Cognac: You dumped it into the fucking ocean, idiot!

Whisky: Hey Gin are you ok man? That was crazy.

Script: Gin gives Whisky a shaky thumbs up as Tequila puts him in the car. In the distance, the wailing howl of police sirens draws near. Brandy, peering through a scenic viewfinder, watches a line of cop cars racing toward them from across the bay.

Brandy: Copperinos on route, let's motor!

Script: She grabs her shotgun back from an awestruck six-year-old standing next to the viewfinder.

Brandy: Thanks. You can have this back now.

Script: She rushes over to the car. The gang climbs in. Tequila offers a cigarette to a rattled Gin, still getting his bearings. He takes the cig and glances out the window. A billboard catches his eye. It's Ashton Kutcher lounging by a sumptuous fireplace, holding a big sloppy burrito and a spoonful of guacamole.

Freddy: Godddd. (laughs) That's so stu--

Script: The text underneath reads in an elegant cursive font: "A taste of heaven." Gin, unnerved, throws the cigarette out the window. Whisky stomps the gas and the gang drives off.

Suspenseful music.

Script: INT. Garage Hideout. Night.

A roll-up door slides open as our crew rushes into a sparse garage/safe house. Tequila and Brandy, carrying Gin, set him down in a chair. Cognac slams a duffel bag on the table and starts laying out stacks of wet cash. Whisky paces back and forth, hyperventilating into a paper bag.

Cognac: Well, here it is. The fruits of our labor. Come get your money.

Script: Brandy looks through her tiny pile of soggy money and scoffs.

Brandy: This is it? Two hundred bucks a piece? I say that we split Gin's cut.

Script: She reaches for Gin's pile. He springs to life and snatches his cash.

Gin: That's not gonna happen.

Brandy: Listen, asshole. Getaway drivers are supposed to get us away not drive us into the ocean.

Whisky: She's got a point, dude. What happened?

Gin: I didn't have a choice.

Brandy: Bullshit! We had a clear exit and then you swerved into a ''food cart. ''Why?

Script: Gin looks away, embarrassed and vulnerable.

Gin: I- forget it! Take my stupid cut. Enjoy your fifty dollars. Here! Take my change, too!

Script: Gin digs into his pockets and slams a handful of change onto the table. As he lifts his hand he double takes. Sitting on the table amongst his pile of coins is a solid gold medallion. Gin's eyes go wide. He covers a coin in an instant before anyone else sees.

Door opening sound

Tequila: No one's taking anybody's cut.

Script: Tequila returns to the table with five brown envelopes. He passes them out to the crew.

Tequila: Here: passports, plane tickets, new IDs, you'll wanna lay low for the first three years.

Script: Meanwhile an awestruck Gin discretely examines the gold coin. Sure enough, engraved on the front is a picture of the celestial bank of heaven. He stares at the coin, dumbfounded, tuning out the world around him. He snaps back to attention when Tequila hands him his envelope.

Whisky frowns as he examines his new passport.

Whisky: Olaf Torgersen??? I've got to go all the way to Norway to run from the cops???

Script: Tequila gives Whisky a fatherly pat on the shoulder.

Tequila: We ain't hiding from the cops, kid. We're running from ''her. ''

Whisky: Her?

Script: Brandy sees something behind them and her face goes pale. She raises a trembling finger and points at-

Brandy: Her.

Script: Everyone looks up and gasps as they see-

A tough, hunky gangster in a sharp suit, standing in the doorway. He nods at Tequila, and steps aside, revealing! Another tough, hunky gangster dude, right behind him. Dude #2 and steps to the side revealing! Hunky Gangster Dude #3. One by one, we continue in this fashion until 17 hunky gangsters fill the room. They stand in a perfect line, arms folded, glowering in silence at our terrified crew.

A tense beat. Then the five center most hunks rip off their shirts, revealing rippling, tattooed bods. With the fluid grace of a cirque de soleil troupe, they lock arms, bend over, and somehow, incredibly, form a human chaise sofa. A sixth hunk rips off his shirt and drops to all fours, forming an ottoman on which another hunk puts a bowl of grapes.

A badass old lady in a mink coat and enough jewelry to sink a pirate ship steps into the room. This is Miss Wonderful. Everybody but Whisky freezes in terror as Miss Wonderful takes a seat on her buff man sofa, kicks up her feet and smiles.

Freddy as Miss Wonderful: Where's my money?

Script: Tequila rushes forward and drops to his knees.

Tequila: Miss Wonderful! Please forgive us. There was a complication on the job. These things happen, yanno? Even to a seasoned crew! It's just bad luck is all.

Script: Miss Wonderful sighs. She glances up at her retinue of hunks. In an instant two hunks unfurl a clear plastic poncho and place it ever-so-gently around her. Tequila's eyes go wide.

Miss Wonderful: Where's my money?

Tequila: We can pay you back, we just need time. A month or two to scout out a new job, but- we'll pay back every cent we owe. Plus interest.

Script: Miss Wonderful frowns. Under her clear poncho she makes a finger gun and aims it at Tequila. In a blink of an eye, every hunk draws a pistol from his jacket and aims at our crew. They tremble.

Miss Wonderful: Where's. My. Money?

Script: Tears stream down Tequila's face. Gin glances at Miss Wonderful's goons, then looks at the gold coin in his hand, his mind racing.

Tequila: We don't have it...

Script: Miss Wonderful cocks her finger gun by pulling back her thumb. The hunks cock their pistols. Our crew cowers. Gin closes his eyes, a look of resignation on his face.

Miss Wonderful: In that case...you're fired.

Gin: I can get you double.

Script: All eyes turn to Gin. Miss Wonderful looks up, confused. She cups a hand around her ear.

Miss Wonderful: Hmm? What's that, young man?

Script: Gin flips the gold medallion across the room to her. Miss Wonderful catches it and examines the coin.

Gin: I've been putting a job together on the side. Gold heist. Twenty million, easy. But it's a five-man job. We'll need a month to pull it off.

Script: Miss Wonderful raises the coin. A hot comes into frame and nibbles at it, like the scene in Alien but it's a man and the gold coin is Ripley. Freddie wrote that line.

Freddie laughs like the chaos-generating goblin that he is

Script: He nods to Miss Wonderful. It's real.

Miss Wonderful: Where's the gold?

Script: Gin draws up as much cool as he can muster.

Gin: I'd tell you but then I'd have to shoot you.

Script: Miss Wonderful's hunk army tenses up. Their guns all lock onto Gin. Miss Wonderful gives a wry grin. She gives the coin a final look then flips it back to Gin.

Miss Wonderful: You've got one week. See you then.

Script: Miss Wonderful snaps her fingers. The man sofa buckles-

Freddie: (laughs) That's the first time I've heard this sentence ever!

Script: The man-sofa bucks to life as the men comprising it slowly scoot out the door. Miss Wonderful giggles with delight. The last hunk out closes the door behind them and the crew breaths with a sigh of relief.

Matt: It's definitely- the last hunk is part of the couch. Like a hand come out of the couch, and closes the door behind them.

Will and Freddie laugh.

Will: Yes, thatthingMattsaid.

Tequila: Gold Heist? You slick bastard! You've been holding out on us!

Script: Gin holds up the coin and gives a "what have i got myself into"-gulp. Brandy takes the coin and examines it. The crew gathers 'round her, intrigued.

Brandy: So where's the loot? Bank vault? Coin collection?

Whisky: Yeah Gin! Tell us: what's the job?

Script: Gin takes out a cigarette, lights up, and takes a biiig, long drag.

Freddie: Finally!

Script: He exhales a plume of smoke then looks them dead in the eyes.

Gin: We're gonna rob the bank of Heaven.

Script: Cut to-

Crickets

Script: EXT. Safe house. Night.

Whisky, Brandy, Tequila and Cognac angrily storm out of the safe house. Gin follows them, pleading.

Gin: Guys! Wait! I'm serious!

Traffic

Script: EXT. Safe house. Night.

Whisky, Brandy, Tequila and Cognac storm out of the safe house. Gin follows them, pleading.

Gin: Guys, wait up, I'm serious.

Script: Gin turns to Cognac dialing a number on her phone.

Gin: We can make a fortune!

Script: She silences him with an upraised middle finger.

Cognac: Hi, Siberia Skyway? I'm on flight 703, how much for a for a first class upgrade?

Script: Gin grumbles and turns away and comes face to face with Whisky shining a penlight in his eyes.

Whisky: Gin, follow this light and count backward from ninety.

Script: Gin swats the flashlight out of his hand.

Whisky: Ah! Shit.

Gin: I'm not crazy!

Whisky: Hey! (scoffs) Whatever, man. Just- check into a hospital. Brain damage is no joke.

Script: Down the street, Bourbon hops into a big, beefy motorcycle and fires up the engine.

Motorcycle revving noise.

Gin: Come on, guys. Are you gonna walk away from the score of a lifetime?

Brandy: (scoffs) You bet your ass we are. See you in Hell, Gin!

Script: She guns the engine and zooms off down the road. Right as she leaves, Whisky scoots into frame on his rinky-dink bicycle.

Bicycle horn.

Script: He clips on his helmet and glares at Gin.

Whisky: Yeah!

Script: Whisky tries to peel out, all cool like Bourbon did, but his chain instantly snaps and he stumbles off his bike.

Whisky: Oh man!

Script: Gin turns to Tequila who's busy locking up the safe house.

Gin: Tequila, you believe in this shit, don't you?

Freddie as Tequila: In Heaven? Sure.

Gin: Then come on, man. There's billions where this came from.

Tequila: Well you're the guy to steal it, huh? The guy who'd rather save an old lady than make ten-million bucks?

Script: Gin looks away, embarrassed.

Tequila: Hey! Don't feel bad. If you made it all the way to Heaven you must be doing something right. My advice is: keep doing it. In, erm-

Script: Tequila pulls another brown envelope from his pocket marked "Gin". He opens it and peers at the tickets inside.

Tequila: Mmm. Cincinnati.

Script: Tequilla hands him the envelope. Gin snatches it.

Tequila: Sorry, kid. Not everyone's cut out to be a criminal.

Script: As Tequila walks away a furious Gin calls out to him.

Gin: So go then. Who needs you? You're a geriatric stick up man still taking orders from a thirsty old cougar in a mink coat!

Script: Tequilla just ignores him as he gets in his car and turns on the engine.

Gin: Nothing to say, huh? Screw you, Tequila! I don't need you! I don't need anybody! I can do this on my own!

Script: Gin crumples the envelope and throws it into the water.

Splash

Tequila: There's five-thousand bucks in the envelope, Gin.

Script: Tequila drives off. Gin gasps. Cut to-

EXT. Safe house. Later.

Gin, soaking wet, rings out his wet socks along the side of the river. He stares up at the glittering lights of the city and frowns. He fishes that gold coin out of his pocket and stares at it for a hard, contemplative beat. Gin lets out a weary hopeless sigh. Then his phone rings again.

Ringtone

Script: He looks down and sees the smiling face of his brother, dressed in the robes of a monk. Hope sparkles anew in Gin's eyes as an idea forms in his mind.

INT. Lily's Apartment. Night.

Freddy, 33, bespectacled goofball in the orange robes of a Buddhist monk claps his hands and sings the chicken song as Gin does the chicken dance in the middle of a tiny, cluttered apartment.

Freddie the podcaster draws a blank, so Will the podcaster breaks character.

Will: You know the Chicken Song, right?

Freddie: No! What is the Chicken Song?

Will: (to the tune of the chicken dance) Deh-deh-deh-dih-deh-deh-dih-

Freddie: Oh!

Freddie as Brother Freddy: (also to the tune of the chicken dance) Yekka dekka pom pom bomp, yekka dekka pom pom bomp, yeppa babba bom bom, BOK BOK BOK BOK!

Will: Hahaha!

Script: Gin, fed up, stops dancing and complains to Lily, 60s, kind, face, setting up bowls of rice on a table packed with delicious food.

Gin: Mo-om! Tell him to stop clapping! He knows it drives me crazy.

Freddie as Lily: Sorry, that's the rules! You're late for dinner, you do the Chicken Dance. Mean to mom? That's a Chicken Dance. Fighting with your brother?

Brother Freddy: That's a Chicken Dance.

Lily: Ok boys! Time to eat!

Script: Gin and Freddie sit down at the table. Gin grabs his chopsticks and is about to dig in when-

Brother Freddy: Ahem.

Script: Lily shoots a glare to Gin and nods to Freddy who solemnly nods his head and offers a prayer.

Brother Freddy: We reflect on the effort that brought us this food, and consider how it helps us. We reflect on our virtue and practice and whether we are worthy of this offering. We regard greed as the obstacle to freedom of the mind. We regard this meal as medicine to sustain our life for the sake of enlightenment. Let us receive this food.

Script: The family begins to eat.

Lily: So, Kyle, how was your day?

Script: Gin gives a shifty glance around as he stuffs rice in his mouth.

Gin: Uh. Yanno. It was fine.

Brother Freddy: Hmm. It seemed like you were pretty busy when I tried to call you earlier.

Gin: Yeah. Sorry about that. Things were pretty hectic on the streets today.

Script: Lily's eyes light up.

Lily: That's right! There was that big bank robbery! Those maniacs were all over the road!

Brother Freddy: You didn't get caught up in that, did you?

Gin: Uh, no. No way!

Lily: They had some great footage of it on the news. Oh! You know, I never saw how it ended.

Script: Lily turns on the TV and moves over to the couch to watch the evening news.

Brother Freddie: Ugh, hey, Mom, we said no screens at dinner.

Lily: Oh, don't be mean to your mom! You wanna do the Chicken Dance?

Script: Freddy gives a resigned chuckle. Gin gulps a swig of water and makes his move.

Gin: So uh. Bro! How was work? Things OK down at the hospital?

Brother Freddy: Woof. It was a tough one today. I gave last rights to three people.

Script: Lily glances over from the TV. A news report replays footage from Gin's heist.

Lily: Oh no, not Mr. Wo- OH DAMN they jumped a bus!

Script: Lily returns her attention to the action on TV and cranks up the volume.

Brother Freddy: Mmm, nyes, I'm afraid Mr. Wong in 212 and Miss Peng in 103 and a kid they brought in, actually. The family took it really tough.

Script: Jin sighs, putting on an affect of being deeply moved.

Jin: Wow. Man. They're lucky to have you there. To ease your transition and grief.

Script: Freddy arches an eyebrow, surprised by Gin's uncharacteristic emotion.

Brother Freddy: Uh, yeah, thanks.

Gin: No, seriously. I know I give you a hard time being a you know, a sap of a monk who doesn't do anything cool but- to be there when someone dies? And help their family? That's really cool.

Brother Freddy: Kyle? Are you OK? You seem-

Script: Gin glances to their mom then leans in for a whisper.

Gin: Listen, I don't want to worry Mom, but I had a bit of a scare myself today. That's why I hung up on you.

Brother Freddy: (Gasps) Well, what happened? Are you OK?

Lily: Oh hey, look at this! They almost ran down some old lady. Oooh, looks like she got a pretty good look at 'em.

Script: On the TV, the news interviews the old woman that Gin almost ran over. Gin's eyes shoot wide in alarm. Freddy bristles, annoyed.

Brother Freddy: (Scoffs) Not now, Mom. You were saying, Bro?

Script: Gin scoots his chair closer to Freddy, obscuring his view of the TV.

Gin: Yeah, um, (clears throat), a guy had a heart attack in my cab today. I had to rush him to the ER and- man, I was scared! But it turned out OK and well- it's the best I felt in a while. I don't know! Maybe it's dumb but- I was thinkin'. Yanno. If you need the help, I could volunteer at the hospital sometime.

Script: Freddy's jaw drops in astonishment.

Freddie makes a cartoon sound.

Gin: Just late at night! To start. Yanno, when no one's around, maybe I can like, organize all the shock paddles and drugs that bring people back to life and all that- you guys have that stuff, right?

Script: On TV, the news shows a police sketch that bears a stunning likeness to Gin. It's almost a frikkin photograph. Lily peers at it, squinting. She rubs her eyes, fumbles for something in her pocket, then calls back to the boys.

Lily: Have you boys seen my glasses?

Brother Freddy: Mom, turn that off.

Lily: Oh alright, alright.

Script: She turns of the TV. Freddy stands up, brimming with emotion.

Brother Freddy: Can you repeat to Mom what you just told me?

Lily: Eh?

Gin: Um. I mean I was just telling Freddy here that I wanna start volunteering down at the hospital.

Script: Lily stands up with an astonished gasp. Freddy stifles back tears.

Gin: What?

Brother Freddy: (crying) We've been so worried about you, Little Bro. You've been so (strong?) lately. We were worried and ashamed to admit it.

Lily: We were worried you had fallen in with a bad crowd, like those hoodlums you ran around with was a kid.

Script: Freddy grabs Gin in a big bear hug.

Brother Freddy: Ah, so relieved! Oh of course you can volunteer I thought I'd never see the day!

Script: A pang of anxiety on Gin's face. He's a bit startled by this outpouring of emotion.

Gin: Uh, great! Great. So, um. Yeah, you should head down there tonight? Yanno, just to take a look around?

Brother Freddy: Eh? Oh, oh. No, no, there's a bunch of paperwork you'll have to do! And you'll need an interview with HR- I'll put in a good word for you of course! Oh, with any luck you can start next month!

Gin: Next month?!

Script: Freddy wraps Gin in another big hug.

Brother Freddy: Oh this is gonna be so great!

Gin: Yeah. Can't-can't wait.

Script: As they hug, Gin spot's Freddy's hospital badge attached to his keys on the table. He awkwardly pivots mid hug, swipes the badge and slips it into his pocket.

Brother Freddy: Oh! Oh, just- a little- coming in a little bit that way- ok, sure, why not.

Gin: Oh sorry I touched you there, heh.

(The boys laugh)

Script: INT. Whisky's Apartment. Night.

Whisky tearfully bid a goodbye the Bambi, his super loud, super mean-ass macaw squawking up a storm in a huge cage that takes up like a quarter of his tiny studio apartment.

(Bambi squawks like the terror bird she is)

Whisky: Goodbye, Bambi. (sniffs) Daddy's gotta go away for a while.

(Bambi squawks)

Script: Whisky wipes away a tear and goes to pet Bambi, who shrieks and bites his finger, drawing a deep, bloody wound.

(Whisky cries out in pain)

Script: He sucks his finger, slings a big bag over his shoulder and turns to his roommate, a stressed-out student trying to study in the corner with cotton balls shoved in his ears.

Whisky: Uh, hey uh, uh, so I left next month's rent on the fridge...here's Bambi's nose drops. He needs two a day for the next four months.

Will as Roommate: Four months? How long are you gone?!

Whisky: Gotta go! Good luck with finals!

Script: The roommate looks at the nose drops, then up to Bambi, already prying furiously at the metal bars of his cage.

EXT. Whisky's Apartment. Night.

Whisky shuts the door and gives a melancholy sigh. WHAM! A hand wraps around his mouth and a gun jams in his back. It's Gin, lurking over his shoulder. Gin whispers in Whisky's ear as his eyes bulge in terror.

Gin: Shut up and move.

Script: Whisky whimpers in fright as Gin muscles him toward a waiting taxicab behind him. The window of Whisky's apartment squeaks open and his roommate shoos Bambi out into the night sky.

(Bambi makes demon calls)

Script: Whisky sees this and cries, giving muffled little sobs under Gin's hand.

Will: Aww.

Script: INT. Gin's cab. Night.

Whisky drives the cab as Gin sits in the back, gun trained on the front seat. Whisky's eyes dart nervously from the road to the rear-view mirror where he sees a steely-eyed Gin glaring back at him.

Whisky: What do you want, Gin?

Gin: Just keep driving.

Script: With another nervous glance, Whisky slowly reaches down for his pocket and fumbles for his phone without taking his eyes off the wheel he tries to move through his contacts, all while talking to Gin to keep him distracted.

Whisky: Come on, man. We can talk about this. You want my money? It's yours. You want my new identity? You got it. I didn't want to be from Norway anyway, man.

Gin: Shut up and pull in here.

Script: Whisky panics as he turns the wheel.

Whisky: OhGodpleasedon'tkillme!

Gin: I'm not gonna kill you.

Script: The headlights of the taxi cab illuminate a sign outside a large building. SSP Buddhist Medical Center.

Gin: You're gonna kill meeee.

Will: (In Christian Bale Batman voice) You're gonna kill me!

(Freddie chuckles)

Script: Cut to-

EXT. Medical Center. Night.

Script: Gin swipes his brother's security card through a scanner and a backdoor beeps and unlocks. He pulls it open and motions for Whisky to go inside.

Freddie: You just hold it over. Nobody swipes badges anymore. The magnetic has fallen far away to ah- (unintelligible) Anyway!

Script: Gin does that thing Freddie says. He pulls it open and motions for Whisky to go inside.

Whisky: Gin, listen man, this is a bad idea.

Gin: Shhhh.

Script: Gin goes inside and shuts the door.

INT. Medical Center Operating Room. Night.

Gin flicks on the lights of an operating room and steps inside, gun drawn on Whisky.

Whisky: I'm serious, man! The human body isn't a light bulb. You can't just switch it on and off.

Gin: Why not?

Whisky: W-well if you flick a light bulb on and off it burns out. You wanna burn out?!

Gin: So it is like a light bulb.

Whisky: Ah jeez, I'm not cut out for this. I'm a student, man! I'm a vet student! I operate on guinea pigs!

Script: Gin glares at Whisky, arms folded.

Gin: Whisky? One of us is gonna die in this room. And only one of us, theoretically, knows how to bring someone back. So who's it gonna be?

(Whisky wordlessly freaks out)

Script: Whisky gives and we cut to-

INT. Operating Room. Night.

Whisky, now in OR scrubs, scrolls on a Web MD article in an old computer at the back of the operating room. Gin waits impatiently on the table.

Whisky: Ok uh, based on this article-

Script: Whisky turns to face Gin and holds up two syringes.

Whisky: I kill you with- this one, and I revive you with- this one.

Script: He double takes, then switches the syringes in his hands.

Whisky: Wait, no- this one and then this one- no I was right the first time- no wait this is my insulin- oh God I feel faint!

Script: Whisky sits on the edge of the table.

Whisky: Gin. Are you sure I can't talk you outta this?

Script: Gin has finally had enough. He grabs Whisky by the shirt.

Gin: Listen, punk! This is the score of a lifetime! Nobody's gonna stop me!

Script: Just then the doors to the OR burst open and Tequila, Cognac and Brandy bust in, guns drawn.

Tequila: Let him go, Gin.

Script: Tequila double takes at seeing Gin on the OR table and Whisky over him in scrubs.

Tequila: Wait. What?

Script: Whisky rushes to Tequila's waiting arms.

Whisky: Oh thank God! I stalled him as long as I could!

Gin: Whisky you rat. Hurry up and kill me!

Whisky: No way, Gin! I got into medicine to help, not to hurt! I took an oath!

Gin: Fine! To hell with it! And to hell with all of you!

Script: He grabs a needle off the table and goes to plunge it into his arm. The crew gasps. Tequila lunges and grabs the needle a millimeter over Gin's vein. They engage in an intense, high stakes arm wrestle over the needle.

Tequila: You idiot! It's not worth it!

Gin: You haven't seen what I've seen! Wheelbarrows of gold! Enough to last a lifetime!

Script: Gin drops the needle and catches it with his free hand. He spins around to stab himself again. Tequilla grapples and they get into a frantic, close quarters brawl with the needle. Tequila gets Gin in a choke hold. Gin, with a roar of strength, wrenches the needle free and stabs it into his arm. Only it's not his arm. It's Tequila's arm. Tequila looks down at the syringe sticking out of his forearm. He gasps. Tequila and Gin exchange horrified looks, as to the rest of the crew.

Whisky: Boss!

Tequila: You...dumb ass...kid.

Script: Tequila flops to the ground, dead. Gin stares, dumbstruck.

Gin: Oh my god.

Script: BOOM! Brandy's fist crashes into his head as she assaults him with a flurry of blows. Cognac rushes to Tequila's side and starts doing CPR. She turns to Whisky, (who is) frozen in panic.

Cognac: Help me you idiot! Bring him back!

Script: Whisky looks at the syringes in his hands, gives Cognac a determined nod and rushes over to her. Meanwhile Brandy kicks Gin's ass up and down the room blow after blow. He goes stumbling across the room and stumbles into the ground next to the OR table. Brandy reigns punches down on him.

Brandy: You stupid, arrogant, piece of shi-

Script: Gin grabs the nearby rolling cart and pulls it over to him to block her assault. Brandy fist slams into the tray of syringes. She gasps and raises her fist. Four poison needles stick out of it.

Gin: Oh fuck!

Brandy: Oh fuuuuuuck-

Script: Brandy goes woozy then stumbles backward, knocking into Whisky as he rushes toward Cognac. Whisky trips and the needle he's holding plunges straight into Cognac's eye.

''Cognac screams. Whisky makes panicked noises. Cognac continues yelling in agony.''

Cognac: Which one was it?! Which one was it?!

Script: Whisky looks down and realizes he is still holding the antidote syringe in his hand.

Whisky: Umm. Not the good one.

Cognac: I. Hate. You.

Script: Cognac slumps over dead into Whisky's arms. He shrieks to the heavens with a soap operatic cry.

Whisky: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Script: Whisky, hysterical, clutches Cognac's dead body.

Whisky: What have I done?! What have I done?!

Script: Uh, Gin rushes over to him.

Gin: Whisky! Calm down! Get a hold of yourself!

Whisky: I never told her how I feel! I'm going in!

Script: Whisky grabs a poison syringe, raises it high and brings it down. Gin gasps and blocks it with his own arm. Whisky gawks at him.

Gin: You're the only one...who can bring us back.

Script: Whisky nods.

Whisky: You've got two minutes.

Script: Gin's eyes roll back to his head as he slumps to the floor. Whisky gasps, suddenly remembering something.

Whisky: W-wait! Don't tell Cognac I like her!

Script: Gin hits the floor dead and we cut to-

EXT. Heaven. Again

Crowd/Busy port noises

Will: The gang- "again"? What the fuck?

Script: EXT. Heaven. Day

The gangplank from the ferry hits the docks to the gates of Heaven City. Gin strolls down the gangplank cool and casual as first-timers freak out all around him. He moseys up the dock towards the line? Towards the karmic scanners.

Freddie as TSAngel: I'm sorry ma'am, all karmic fates are sealed upon moment of death.

Script: Gin steps up to the back of the line where Tequila, Cognac and Brandy stand, nervously awaiting their destinies. Cognac is on her knees, begging to a TSAngel for mercy.

Cognac: (panicked) There's gotta be something I can do! I've been a terrible person! You- you want this watch? It's a Rolex, take it!

Script: Cognac offers up her watch. The angel stares down at her unimpressed. Brandy, furious, yanks Cognac to her feet.

Brandy: Get up you baby- weakness is the biggest sin of all! Get a hold of yourself!

Script: Brandy slaps Cognac across the face.

Cognac: Ow-ow! Owww!

Tequila: Hey! Cut it out, you two. We're in Heaven, show some Goddamned respect!

Script: Tequila gasps at his blasphemous swearing and clutches his mouth. He looks at the angel who arches an eyebrow at him, makes a mark on his clipboard and walks away. Tequila winces and goes to light a cigarette, frantically striking his lighter over and over. Gin, smug and insufferable, chooses this moment to make his presence known.

Gin: No fire in Heaven.

Script: His cohorts all look up and lock their eyes on him. Gin takes the cigarette from Tequila's mouth and gives it a puff.

Gin: All ya gotta do is breathhhhe.

The boys snicker with disgust.

Will: Oh my Godd. Uh,

Script: Gin blows a cloud of smoke and winks at them. All at once, they grab Gin and start screaming in his face.

Brandy: You smug son of a bitch!

Cognac: You bastard!

Tequila: You killed us, Gin! You killed us!

Gin: Hey, calm down, guys. Whisky's gonna bring us back any second.

Cognac: That dweeb's not gonna bring us back! Oh God, I'm going to Hell!

Tequila: We're all going to Hell! We're criminals! It's what we deserve!

Gin: No one's going to Hell! We're just visiting. So let's make the most of it here and case the joint.

Script: Tequila shakes his head and scoffs in incredulous frustration.

Tequila: Case the joint?! Are you serious?! OK! Sure, Gin! Let's case the joint!

Script: Tequila starts looking around at the city before them.

Tequila: Security. Well, for starters, we have about four thousand angelic beings all over the place. A ten-mile high wall that stretches out to eternity, and- a, a...

Script: Tequila's speech trails off as he spots something HUGE in the distance pulling into the port.

Tequila: A. Giant floating pile of gold.

Script: The rest of the crew turns around and gasps with glittering at at- a colossal trash barge sailing towards the city.

Barge horn sound

Script: A giant pile on top stretches for miles into the sky. Only it's not hauling garbage. It's hauling golden treasures! A loud boom as the barge slams into the docks. All across the port people stop what they're doing and gawk at the massive haul. A big smile curls on Gin's lips.

Gin: How's that for a score?

Cognac: It's. Beautiful!

Tequila: How will they get it inside?

Script: Suddenly the shriek of a whale cry pierces the air. The gang looks up and gawks, once again in dumbfounded stupor at- Woopsie, an ancient, angelic sky-whale, old as time itself, floating over the city gates.

Woopsie glides majestically through the air and settles over the barge. A crew of burly angels across Woopsie cast chains over the side. More burly angels, even burlier than the last, link the chains to the barge and nod to the angels atop the mighty whale. With a great bellow of exertion, Woopsie rises upward, casting the barge aloft. Woopsie floats back toward the city with a colossal pile of gold underneath.

A huge shadow falls over out crew as Woopsie sails right over them. A gust of wind knocks a single gold coin off the pile. It tumbles down through the air and towards the ground. Gin leans out and catches the coin as everyone else stares up, still dumbstruck. Gin smiles and pockets the coin.

Freddie as Cheery Little Angel: Next.

Script: This snaps the crew's attention forward. They look at the gate angel motioning to them. It's their turn. Gin nods.

Gin: OK everyone, just follow my lead.

Script: Gin strolls up to the angel and freezes for a second when he realizes it's the same gate angel he met before.

Cheery Little Angel: COME ON DOWN my friend and try your luck! Hey- wait a minute. Haven't I done you before?

Gin: Wait- uh- uuuuh-

Cheery Little Angel: Going in and out of a coma, huh? Yeah, happens.

Gin: Heh. Heheheh.

Will: He wave- (cracks up) I want an hour of Matt's Gin noises. Um-

Script: He waves Gin forward. Gin relaxes as he steps into the tube. The angel boots up the scanner and it begins to whir with life.

Cheery Little Angel: Well, it should be pretty quick, I mean, how much trouble could you have possibly gotten into since- Uh-oh...

Script: Instantly alarms sound, the tube turns red and the floor opens up beneath Gin. He plummets out of view as the crew, watching him, screams in horror.

Tequila: Gin!

Cognac: Oh my God!

Script: EXT. Hell. ETERNAL night!

''Freddie snickers. BG foley is people screaming in agony.''

Freddie: You've been waiting to- right now-

Will: YES! What a rush!

Script: Gin screams in pure terror as he falls into a vast, unending, infernal hellscape! The sound of trillions of screaming souls beckons him forward. Gin's eyes bulge wide in new fear as he falls.

Cut to-

INT. Hospital OR Room. Night.

Gin bolts upright, still screaming, an adrenaline needle stuck in his chest. Whisky, standing over him, falls backwards. The rest of the gang, crowded around, sighs with relief. Gin gasps for breath. He pulls that needle out of his chest- and fishes a new gold coin out of his pocket! He flips it to Tequila who holds it up with both hands. The crew gathers around Tequila and stares at the coin in awe. Gin lights up a cigarette and looks at the crew.

Gin: So. Who's in?

Script: Tequila, Cognac and Brandy look up at Gin. And smile. Whisky turns green. And barfs. Title slam! HEAVEN HEIST.

Story Break's wrap up music, which sounds like it belongs in the final section of a quiz show.

Will: Alright! Well there it is: Heaven Heist. I'm really, really excited to get back into this one I hope you guys are too. I gotta say it's kinda fun doing the hosting duty by myself though I miss the witty banter of my co-hosts Matt Arnold and Freddie Wong. Ummm. So yeah! That's Heaven Heist.

We're gonna be diving in, like I said, next week, right where we left off. So um, hope you stick around with us in the New Year. Hope you all had an amazing, cool, fun and safe holiday. Doing all your holiday stuff. I hope you got lots of presents, ect, ect. Um, and that's gonna do it for us this week.

Um, it's been a couple weeks since I've done a fan art roundup so I have some amazing fans to shout out who have been giving up so much cool, cool content over the break.

First up, Andre J. Young @thatoneGM on twitter who did a pair of really, really hilarious posters for us of Superman and Pixar's Toilets and Butts. Thank you so much, Andrew!

And, speaking of Pixar's Toilets and Butts, oh, we also got an animation from Zachary MacIntyre, who did an incredible animated of one of the scenes from Pixar's Toilets and Butts. Now, this one's a little not safe for work, I'm not gonna lie to you guys. There's some ding dongs, there's some butts, there's some, there's some potty talk. But it is very, very, very funny and that is available on our facebook group.

Another big breaking news update: from Amy L. Johnston, @oddamity on twitter, she has just finished chapter 8 of her adaptation of out Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road episode. It's called The Other Side, it's really really good. That's up on our twitter, go check it out.

Special thanks to Gage LeRoy Stoneman, for posting an AMAZING poster for The Jar Jar Binks Saga on our facebook group. Really, really great job, Gage, thank you so much for that.

And finally, a very, very special Story Break shout out to the one, the only, Nick Fegley. @thenickfegley on twitter, who just sent us- uh, guys, it's so frikkin cool, Nick made us a video game. Nick's made a couple games for us in the past. He did one kangaroo tennis that was just a riot. This one is based on our Breakout episode, and I gotta say it's his biggest game yet. It's a frikkin epic. It had be laughing out loud the entire time I played it. There's some really good twists on Breakout in the game. And for you Dungeons and Daddies fans, there is a Glen Close cameo if you keep your eyes peeled. So thank you so much to Nick.

You guys really made our holiday special by sending us all this fan art and stuff. So thanks to all the fans. Check out all this great fan art on our twitter at twitter dot com slash rjstorybreak, or our facebook group, bit dot ly slash storybreakfb.

Thanks as well to Maximum Fun for having us on their glorious podcast network. Make your New Years resolution to check out some more Max Fun shows like: Jordan Jesse Go, or Switchblade Sisters, or Can I Pet Your Dog. They've got a lot of great content in addition to us, of course.

And that's gonna do it for us this week, guys. I don't how to sign out because normally we do our little word salad thing. So I'm just gonna say: I'm Will Campos, here for Story Break, take care of yourselves in the New Year guys, happy 2020, and we will see you all next week.

Story Break outro music plays, a cool jazzy tune followed by a typewriter.