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thekingsy · 2 years ago

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"The Lethal Man" Short Story

Project Title

Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy “Story Mode” Trailer

Project Role(s)

Video Editor

Project Description

This video is an edited, 30-second trailer for the video game, Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy from the game's "Story Trailer" made for social media use.

Skills Showcased

Video editing, storytelling, creative asset use, editing for social media

Software Used

Adobe Premiere Pro

Equipment Used

Personal Computer

December 25th. Walking the streets on a dark, cold Christmas night on the way to the bar. The smell of chimney smoke, smog & piss filling the air. People getting in fights on every corner, crime everywhere you look, and no one bats an eye. Never a dull night in Phorrea.

Sitting at the bar before starting the next job. Liquid courage & a stogie before dealing with another case. A necessary evil. Every cop is dirtier than a baby’s diaper in the mud, so I pick up the slack. Good ole supply & demand. At least it pays well. Time to get moving.

I arrive at the address provided by the client. A small, well-decorated apartment. Medical books on the shelves & dexterity tools on the desk. The tenant was either a surgical student or had weird collecting habits. Walking into the kitchen, traces of blood & mud are found.

I go to the bedroom to find it untouched. It looks like a young woman lives here. I hate these kinds of cases. It takes me to that dark place. Back to that night. It’s like a hole I can’t climb out of –

I shake it off & focus.

The trail of mud particles shows the scuffle started at the front door & ended in the kitchen where there are traces of blood. The blood is dried & looks a few days old. Whoever did this had time to come back & try to clean up the mess left behind.

This is bush league. Sloppy. This is the work of some low-level cat, no way this was a professional. Not that I can say much, I’m no professional. I’m as close to a low-level detective as one can be. Luckily, I have a brain that works sometimes, not that it does me any favors.

I search the kitchen drawers & find a roll of clear packing tape. I tear a piece off & use it to grab the dirt particles from the carpet. I take the tape back to the kitchen & grab a glass from the cabinet to get a better look at the dirt. Like I said, my brain works sometimes.

I take one look at the clay-colored dirt & there is only one place in this shithole city it could come from.

The docks. A criminal’s wet dream.

A necropolis of bones & souls of those unfortunate enough to come across some of the crazy pricks this city hosts.

This well has run dry. Time to head to the docks.

As I head out the door, I notice an envelope sitting on an accent table. The senders name & address has been torn off; the letter taken. On the top right corner of the envelope is a familiar crest.

My eyes go wide; I freeze. I’m seething. Consumed with rage. All of those emotions rushing back. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I’m about to lose it. It’s been 15 years since –

(STOP! BREATHE! NOW’S NOT THE TIME! SHAKE IT OFF MARTIN! FOCUS!)

I stop. I breathe. I focus.

I move towards the door & leave the apartment. I get in the car & I light a cancer stick. It helps calm the devil. Medication & therapy could fix it, but with no insurance, it’s nothing but a pipe dream. I’ll let the stick will take me first.

As I leave the scene, I look in the rearview mirror & see a “Joe’s Cleaning Service” van pull up. Everyone in this town knows Joe’s Cleaning Service is a front for the mob. Professional cleaners for a professional price. Only City Hall crooks could afford a service like that.

Everyone in this town is mobbed up. The police, the lawyers, the DA, and the mob boss himself, Mr. Harvey Short, the Mayor. It’s why I have a job doing this. Anytime something big or little is called in, it’s ignored & brushed under the rug & I pick up the slack.

Halfway to the docks.

(It’s time.)

Investigating that young woman’s apartment reminded me of what happened 15 years ago. It still lives in my head. No matter what I do, it never goes away. Every case, it’s as vivid as a theater screen. My poor angel. If only I got home sooner.

This town. It can change you in a heartbeat.

There is no law, no order. Everyone is their own judge, jury, & executioner. It’s why any case I solve, the criminal doesn’t get a second chance. I am the executioner. The completely incompetent, incredibly sloppy executioner.

I guess that’s why I’ve been given the moniker, “The Lethal Man.”

I don’t care much for it, but it seems to have a boogeyman effect on the trash that live in this town. All I care about is taking out the trash & providing closure to those who need it. Getting paid is a bonus.

Finally, I pull up to the docks. I step out of the car & I’m hit with the smell of old faithful, death & despair. There is no life at the docks. No spirit, no hope. The only guarantee at the docks is finding dead bodies & a stench that will take weeks to remove from your clothes.

As I make my way to the boardwalk, I take in the only impressive part of this dump. Makeshift shops built out of old shipping containers. Drug dens, black-market bodegas, brothels, gambling; if you want it, the docks have it. You’ll pay for a good time with your life.

As I walk down the boardwalk, I hear the sound of & see container doors closing. A normal occurrence for me. It’s times like this I enjoy that I have a reputation that no one likes to challenge. Makes it easy to get through hell pits like the docks.

I reach the end of the boardwalk & take a look behind me. I lock eyes with a sole straggler who proceeds to bang on a container door frantically. He’s screaming, “LET ME IN! LET ME IN!”

The look of fear in his eyes as he stared down the boogeyman. It’s like a drug. It fuels me.

I turn the corner to make my way to the port. Most of the investigations I’ve solved have ended with a body being found in the harbor, so when a case leads me to the docks, it’s the first place I check. I stop to light a butt & it begins to rain. An all too familiar setting.

The rain puts out my match & destroys my last cigarette. As I throw it to the ground, I hear the loud metal grind of the container crane moving. I turn around and look up to find a shocking clue to the investigation.

The young woman!

Hanging from the container, strapped at the wrists by metal chains crying out for help. Similar to how I found my angel all those years ago. My heart rate jumps to 200 bpm in an instant!

I yell out to her, “STAY CALM! I’LL GET YOU DOWN! I PROMISE!”

Flashbacks of that night 15 years ago consume me in a flash.

Getting home late from a shift at the Phorrea police department to find my angel strung up by chains in the kitchen. Eviscerated like an animal in a slaughterhouse. As pale as a ghost.

If only I had left on time. Maybe I could hav –

(WAKE UP, MARTIN! FOCUS!)

I snap out of my haze & book it toward a ladder that would take me up to that storage container. I’ve got to help her. Somehow. Someway. I’ve got to get her down. I’m about 50 yards away from the ladder when suddenly – time stops.

A click. A thud. A crash. Silence.

The crane that – the container that she – had fallen – crashed – it happened in a flash.

She was gone. I couldn’t save her. Just like my angel. Incompetent – sloppy – if had been there sooner – it’s happening again.

I fell to my knees, rain falling on my face in the moonlight. I’m glaring at the moon. Eyes wide, breathing deeply; I feel like I’m going to explode. All of my senses are heightened. It feels like I am trapped in a time loop, being forced to relive that moment.

All of a sudden, in the distance, I hear the splashes of someone running. My neck whips my head around to see a man running away from some barrels nearby, gunning it for the warehouse. I jump up & begin sprinting. My eyes are locked on this man; I have tunnel vision. I’m running faster than ever. Rage has taken over my body. It feels like a superpower.

I feel like I’m being controlled by a motor. As I begin to gain on this scumbag, he turns around to see my eyes stabbing needles through him & screams out for help while trying to run away. It’s no use.

30 yards. “HELP!” 20 yards. “PLEASE HELP!” 10 yards. “OH GOD! HELP!” Zero.

I tackle him to the ground. I turn him over & mount him.

“WHY’D YOU DO IT!?”, I screamed.

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!”, he said in a panic.

“LIAR!” I drove down my fist like a hammer over his nose.

“I’M SORRY!”, he cried out.

“WHY DID YOU KILL HER?!”, I screamed.

“SOMEONE WANTED HER GONE!”, he screamed in a haze.

“WHO?! GIVE ME A NAME!”, I yelled as I raised my other fist.

“I D O N ’ T K N—“, is all that he could say before driving my other fist down.

“LAST CHANCE – GIVE. ME. A NAME!”, I screamed while raising both fists above my head.

“I c a n’ t . – T h e y’ l l k i l l m e.”, he slurred, barely conscious.

(MARTIN! STOP! DON’T DO IT! BREATHE! FOCUS!)

“WRONG. ANSWER!”

I scream at the top of my lungs as I bring down both of my fists AND THEN –

Silence. Everything goes black. Complete darkness.

(Oh, Martin. See? See what happens? Do you see what happens when you can’t control yourself?

When you don’t listen to me? You let the devil in your mind win & now you’ve lost your lead to the bigger fish.

Remember: Stop. Breathe. Focus. Listen to your angel.)

I start to come to. First, my hearing. No sound other than the rain hitting the ground. Then, my vision returns. I’m looking straight up at the night sky, rain falling down on my face. Breathing heavily, my heart rate through the roof. Slowly lowering as I come back to reality.

I raise my hands to see them painted crimson, covered in viscera. I slowly stand to my feet, knowing of the carnage that lay below me. This wasn’t the first time this happened & it won’t be the last. I shake it off & focus. I need to call the client.

A jingle plays.

That man – his phone is ringing. I walked back to where he laid & reached into his pocket. I see the caller ID & my eyes widen. “Maria” is calling. That name – my wife, my angel – this isn’t a coincidence. I take a deep breathe. I focus. I answer the phone.

“Hello, Mr. Williams or should I call you ‘The Lethal Man’?”, the voice on the phone mockingly asked.

I answered with silence.

“I presume you dispatched the owner of this phone. Why, thank you! That must have been very satisfying for you.”, he excitingly proclaimed.

“Why?”, I answered tersely.

“Vengeance, of course! The last time I hired this man for a job he walked away unscathed! I ordered him to gut some nosey cop’s wife because he was poking his nose where it didn’t belong!” he said with malice, cackling like a lunatic.

It felt like my soul had left my body. The man that I am standing over – who murdered that young woman – was the bastard who took my angel away from me 15 years ago. He was hired by this pompous asshole on the phone? Who is this prick?

Suddenly, my phone vibrates.

“Enjoy your payment ‘The Lethal Man’. Oh, didn’t I mention? I’m the one who hired you for this investigation! Isn’t that hilarious?” As he cackles over the phone, I check my phone to see a payment has been sent by an unknown account with a note that reads – “15 years and you’re still coming up short.”

That’s when it clicked. I knew who I was talking to. Thinking back, I should’ve known who it was from the very beginning. Some low-level mobster I busted back when I was working for Phorrea PD. I laughed into the phone.

“WHAT’S SO FUNNY?!” He angrily shouted as I laughed into his ear.

“I’ve let you have your fun over the years, but you are becoming a nuisance to me & my business! THE TAX MAN IS COMING TO COLLECT! Enjoy your last few hours because this entire town is going EAT YOU ALIVE!”

As I let this insufferable man finish screaming & ranting, a calm comes over me. I close my eyes, take a deep breathe, exhale, and focus. Before launching the phone into the harbor & heading back to my car to prepare for the ensuing war, I laugh & say to the man –

“Sounds like a fun time. I’ll be seeing you – real soon – Mr. Mayor.”

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