Unfinished script my friends and I want to animate

Unfinished script my friends and I want to animate

But its about a furry joining the Canadian mafia so read at your own pace

published on January 253 reads 3 readers 0 not completed

as far as we got before february 2020

Two snickering figures pep up the steps to an old man's house, january night. Gold christmas-lights twist around his porch railing. One of the figures, later called Olivier, coughs, spitting out droplets of alcohol.

He starts knocking on the door until Ozzy, the larger figure, pushes his hand down and grunts "stop."

So he steps back with politely folded arms and his hands.

"You think we can make the ol' man cry this time?" Olivier side mouths to Ozzy, spinning the chamber of his magnum.

"Stop waving that thing around you f♤cking hoser, we dont want them f♤ckin GRC eating our ass tonight."

"Chill out, it's not even loaded," Olivier snorts. His hot breath instantly turns white in the frosty air, and he watches it curiously.

"You beau cave, that doesn't mean we wouldn't get busted," says Ozzy. Olivier's eyes shift straight to the door to ignore him. They keep waiting on the old man, who's uncharacteristically late.

"Damn, you think Miles had like... a 'help I've fallen and I cant get up' scenario in there?" Olivier asks.

"He's only 60," Ozzy responds before laughing at that a bit late, "We would've heard something?" Then, he brutely nudges Olivier's shoulder to tell him to f♤ck off.

Olivier places his hand on the loose door knob, shaking it. It jangles like a bag of screws and springs,

Ozzy, becoming impatient, hisses "Quit that." He crunks his partner's head in annoyance and shoves his back into the metal railing. Olivier gasps as he eases against the cold metal prongs.

"No, let me do that again, something's wrong." Olivier springs back and this time when he pressures the handle, the door swings open on its hinges, damaged.

(The house's insides look bout as gucci as a kid who ran over a landmind and got blasted into a jungle branch so Ozzy n Oliver stare at it from the porch)

"Ok, so he's missing then," Ozzy says, taking a moment to blink in surprise.

Olivier slowy turns around to him more concerned by the lack of empathy in his voice than anything. "Uh... what's going on?" he asks.

"You know... someone probably got to him n' shit, guess that's what happens when you're a slow rich 60 year old man connected to the mafia. Sorry bub, we can't play russian roulette together tonight." There's a soft sound from Ozzy cracking his knuckles behind his head in the most relaxed manner ever.

"He's dead?"

"I'm sure of it," says Ozzy.

Olivier steps back, pushed by the aura of uneasyness Ozzy's calm glance radiates. He's positive Miles is just missing.

"I'm leaving then." Olivier slaps his foot against the ground like a huffing bull. He can hear Ozzy softly reply with "K" before storming down the front pathway.

"You mean to tell me there isn't an ounce of worry in you for your," by which he meant "our," "friend, eh?"

"What did you say?" Ozzy shouts back sarcastically, leaning against the rail. Olivier retaliates with another one of those snorts that become white smoke beneath your nose, at least until it's walked past. He then tucks the gun in his pocket and non-angrily slams himself in their car to pull away.

He crushes the pedal with his foot, starting to ditch everything in sight. Although he shoots Ozzy a look before turning out of Mile's neighborhood completely, he doesn't focus on the nasty face Ozzy regifts him with, or maybe had been giving since he walked away. He moves the partially stopped car onwards to a perpendicular road that takes him to main street.

He punches the knobs on the radio to flood the silent car with music as engulfing as the deep sea.

At last, he chills against the rough and carpet-like seats, jeering the wheel to turn onto the fast paced highway within a minute.

Heat blasts through the vent system, followed by what Olivier always thought of as "the sound of heat." It was a vacuum like sound. He was just lucky the slick silver outside of the car looked more discrete when sneaking into rich neighborhood@ than the cluttered, shitty, noisy interior.

Driving isn't fun to describe, so if you're fair, then cut me some slack for glossing over it.

Later, Olivier pulls up at a gas station off the side of the road. All the light is from the overpowering white glow inside the convenience store. He folds his arms on the wheel and slams his head down into it, after having parked though. He yawns sleepily, but his face soon becomes angry, sullen, and dangerous.

He climbs out of the car and hears the shaking of a bin thats knocking against the side of the convenience store. Then he slaps the car door shut and walks over there, hand in pocket, curious but not cautious.

Olivier stands infront of the bins of trash and quietly says "Salut, cherie."

The cloaked creature who's shivering in the bin freezes.

"Ah non, chill out, cherie. What are you, a raccoon? baby cat? dogger? I wont hurtcha, eh?" He says patiently. "Strays have a place in my heart."

the animal doesnt answer or come into the light, it just keeps eating the trash while hidden behind the even taller trash pile in the bin between him and Olivier.

Olivier steps to the right, still looking into the alley. He doesn't move in, knowing the poor stray would bolt if he did that.

theres a large scrap of metal in the back of the alley. its also reflective

causing olivier to gasp

because instead of a raccoon or some shit, he sees a wolf kid, a wolf thats a kid or a kid thats a wolf, either way something volatile, tearing through the trash for dinner.

Not really assessing if the kid is dangerous, he walks over there and hooks his collar with the magnum, yanking him into his grasp.

the kid screams even while his mouth is being cupped by Olivier's hands.

"Let me go,"

"I will when we get to a restaurant, jesus kid. Sorry to scare ya but this is the worst situation i ever picked up some street rat in so im gonna help you a bit." He starts dragging him towards his car.

Once Olivier edges upon the windows that look into the convenience store, he stops, and seeing as the kid acted compatible after what he said, he just trusts him enough to let go of his neck.

He points to his car. The kid turns around to him on his knees.

"Make it look like your getting in willingly" Olivier says with a gun to his head.

The kid nods and scrambles to it, getting in the front passenger seat. Olivier steps off the sidewalk and gets in the car.

Olivier's seat belt clicks before any conversation is even trying to be had. You can hear the kid say "uh" for a minute until they nearly pull back out onto the busy road.

"What did you come here to buy?" The kid asks just to start talking.

"I was gonna get candy, been a rough night, eh? Im sure you know all about those, furfag."

"Jackass."

"Olivier"

"Ivan." They introduce.

"Im settling for a lovely desert at this nice italian place down town."

"thats where youre taking me?" Ivan gasps.

"If ya shut it, of course." He shrugs politely. "Now the real question is where the f♤ck are we going with this?"

"With the car? i thought… a restaurant? what"

"Do you speak french or quebecois at least so i can word this better?"

"n-no"

"Then pardon if i say it wrong. Why are you easy?"

Olivier cocked his head. The car screeches to a stop at a red light for dramatic effect (although at first you think olivier just stopped the car on the road, it isnt until the shot after he yells that you can see the red light.)

"WHY WAS IT EASY TO TELL YOU TO COME WITH ME? you just listened. you got in my car without screaming."

"I-" ivan cries. "Because I dont care if i die out here. im a billion miles away from home, my parents hate me, i-"

"So youre a run away, eh?" Olivier asks curiously. "and youre a suicidal ragelet but also too pussy to kill yourself directly?"

"Wow, uh." Ivan nods nervously, avoiding eye contact. he hums a very monotone "mhm" in agreeance.

Olivier places his arm on ivan's shoulder. "Heh, youre perfect" he mutters, eyes darting out the other window.

"Jesus…" he says at last, trying to sound like he pities the kid.

Ivan put his head in his arms and his arms on the dash, facing down and seeing used tissues on the ground, covered in blood, but he could tell it was like, from a nosebleed, and that was good at least.

The rest of the drive was short but painfully quiet. Ivan was nervous, the uncanny sense of sudden change and risk told him he had no right to talk; internally he was begging Olivier to say something. He was really tempted to mention his car is utter garbage though. It didn't look too beat up or anything but a Mercury Cougar is a Mercury Cougar.

Olivier pulled into a semi-full parking lot. The car breaks screeched to halt in an oh so beautiful sound that made Ivan wince. Olivier took notice and laughed. "Yea I know right? Car isn't even 3 years old but sounds like shit. Don't matteh though, it's temporary." Ivan wanted to ask what he meant by temporary but Olivier was already getting out of the car.

Said restaurant wasn't as fancy as Ivan thought it'd be. It was old, very old, but it still had a nice feel to it. The yellowed windows radiated a soft light that was easy on the eyes, compared to the neighboring neon signs. The bricks looked more aged and grayed, but it might just seem that way since it's late. As Ivan made his way up he saw the rusted metal sign of the restaurant hanging from the yawning. 'Non un Fronte' it read.

The inside felt retro. While not all that fancy it was charming and comfortable. And packed with some of the most shady people Ivan had ever seen. Everyone eyed him with heavy amounts of judgement, Ivan was hard to miss. Olivier rolled his eyes, took Ivan by the sleeve and basically tossed him into a chair. Ivan didn't protest, he was borderline fully numb by this point.

On the opposite side of the table were 2 others. One looked like a hipster that's only personality trait was being high, and the other looked like he owned a van to put his shitty guitars in. The van guy spoke up first. "Olivier... not to sound rude or anything but-"

"Yea I know what you're thinkin' but hear me out, Kev. Sure this guy's a lil' weird-looking' buuuut what difference does it make?" Oliver nudged Ivan on the shoulder. "He's still gotta kick to em' y'know?" A bold statement given they've known eachother for a collective 10 minutes.

Everyone turned their gaze to Ivan. "That reminds me- so, Ivan, this is Cargo n' Kevin", Olivier said. Ivan slowly sunk into his chair and looked to Olivier warily. "sorry, in one word, can i please know what im getting into?" he asked.

"Holy shit, it talks," Cargo blurted out in pure, unironic amazement.

"mafia business with numerical illiterates." Olivier smirked.

Ivan paused for a moment. "Woah. This is really happening" he muttered.

"It talks?" Cargo repeated as a question to Olivier, this time getting attention.

"Of course he talks shithead. What'd you think kids do?" Olivier clapped back with some spicy sass.

Kevin sighed loudly, earning him the attention. "I'm not judging this kid-"

"Ivan", Olivier cut in.

"Ivan...I'm not judging Ivan's proficiency or the fact he's a furfag, I'm mainly confused as to why you hired a completely new person. A kid for that that matter."

Olivier put a fist over his mouth trying to word his explanation. "I know it when I see it. That and technically I haven't hired him yet.

Kevin was facing toward Ivan again. "Y'know how to steal?"

Ivan looked Olivier, all he got in return was a shrug. "Somewhat."

"Y'know how to shoot a gun?"

"No."

"You ever killed someone?"

"No."

"Drive a car?"

"Once."

"Then what can you do?"

Ivan darted his eyes from Olivier and back to Kevin. "I... uh... made it from West Virginia all the way up here without dying or getting arrested...?"

Kevin tapped his finger repeatedly, thinking to himself. "How long it'd take you to get here?"

"About 2 weeks."

"Hmmm." Kevin raised his eyebrows somewhat impressed. "Ay Cargo, is Gabriel short on runners?"
Cargo blinked out of his little void. "Oh, hell no. I got my pay cut again 'cause that jackweed keeps hirin' people." Kevin clicked his tongue unsurprised, thankful Cargo didn't go into another rant about having to work at Chuck E. Cheese. "Is anyone short on runners?" Cargo shrugged. "Not that I know of."

"Welp," Kevin sighed, "we got no real use for him then." Olivier had a spiteful look for a split second. "Well of course he don't got all the ropes yet. You gotta be patient for this sorta thing." Kevin squinted and gave Olivier one cold ass glare. "Patient!? First of all you're being a dumbass right now, second of all you're clearly not sober so I'll explain this like you're retarded. This is an arms trade we're talking about. Sasha is very clear on having professionals and experienced people take care of this sorta thing. Had the circumstances been different I wouldn't care if you wanted to hire this guy but we don't have time for that. We don't have time to be 'patient'.

Kevin stood up and threw his rad rock n roll jacket over his arms. "I'm not gonna waste my time on this. Save him for later," he muttered. He left and Cargo followed like the bottom he is.

"Hmmm interesting," Olivier said opening his wallet. "I was plannin' to split the bill 'cause I don't got any money on me but oh well." He got up and stretched his arms behind his back, "I got food at home." He looked down at Ivan. "Ya comin'?"

Ivan looked around, confused. "Uh... am I?" Olivier looked at him like he was autistic. "Yes, yes you are." Olivier took Ivan by the hand (no homo) and drug him to the car. Ivan stopped before getting in. "So like... what's gonna happen to me," he asked. "Oh uhhh, I'll find ya somethin' to do." Ivan didn't know what that meant. "You mean if im gonna send you back to the streets or not though? nah just stay with me. Like i said before, i got a thing for raisin' stray animals. course my backdoor's always unlocked if you really wanna escape. But stay around, theres never no one who doesnt need ya. infact, im starting to think of something you can help me with right now, but we'll shoot that two faced cucklet when we come to him"

"Analogy..?"

"Yeah, you get me. See?" He said with his hands on his hips, getting in the car.

"Is it weird that i trusted you so fast?"

"Any particular reason youre saying that?"

"No-"

"Look kiddo, Cargo's got a wolf like sense for snakes. If he'd a thought you were a cop holdin out on us, he wouldve given the signal to shoot then and there. Now you seem to be a cheeky bastard, but i trust ya too. Dont push mind games like that in the mob of all places though."

"Thanks," ivan said looking up with pure amazement.
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