Chapter Text
RUMBLE IN DETROIT
Rumble In Detroit is a high-octane kung-fu crime thriller in which the robbery of a powerful yakuza’s family jewels throws the figure skating underground into bloody turmoil – hearts will be broken and heads will roll as everyone sets their eyes on the grand prize.
Story Treatment:
Night in Hong Kong. In a dark hotel room, triad soldier JI GUANG-HONG, 21, sits at the foot of the bed, smoking. LEO DE LA IGLESIA, 23, American smuggler, lies curled against the pillows. Wistfully, the lovers air their reservations towards a mysterious coming storm. GUANG-HONG is torn by his strong feelings of loyalty; LEO wishes for their freedom. They are but two tiny flies caught in in a cathode gas spiderweb of lies.
At a traditional hot springs serving as a yakuza front, GUANG-HONG receives his assignment.
Mari looks her mother over.
“So….what’s with the suit?” Guang Hong fumbles his way to the sideboard as fast as he can to stop the recording– damn! He knew they should have put up a sign or something. They’ll have to do the take from the beginning. Mari turns her unimpressed gaze on Guang Hong, too.
“You haven’t heard? Guang Hong here is making a movie!” Hiroko motions to her suit. “I’m going to be the head of the Katsuki family yakuza, isn’t that exciting?” The suit’s very somber and official-looking, and maybe if Guang Hong didn’t already know her he might be a little intimidated by it. Maybe.
Maybe they should give her a sword, just to be sure.
“Oh.”
“You could be in it, too, if you want,” Guang Hong offers. “It’s really great to have volunteers!”
“Mm,” Mari says, like she’s actually considering it even though she really doesn’t sound like it. She wouldn’t make a bad yakuza, either. “I’m good, thanks.” She breezes out of the room as casually as she’s entered, her well-wishing on the project sounding from almost halfway down the hall.
“I’m sure there’s something she can do,” Hiroko supplies. “It’s such a fun idea!”
KATSUKI HIROKO, 49, head of the Katsuki crime family relays to GUANG-HONG his mission. Three days ago, a Russian crime syndicate broke into a top-security storage facility and stole the priceless Katsuki Family Jewels. The diamonds stolen have belonged to the family since the Momoyama period, a gift from the shogun himself. The robbery is all but a bald-faced declaration of war. The Katsukis and their allies will retaliate – but first, the treasure must be brought home.
“Understood,” Guang Hong says, bowing his head low.
“Wonderful! Now that that’s settled, can I get you some tea?”
Guang Hong does hope Leo has some editing software. Though tea would be nice, about now.
Victor leans over the boards to listen. His eyes are wide with almost childlike wonder.
“Really? A movie?”
VICTOR NIKIFOROV, 31, world champion figure skater and informant. If the diamonds are to be recovered, GUANG-HONG will need to cast a wide net. Play it close to the chest. Coax the monkey from the sleeve. If anyone on the ground has information, it’s VICTOR.
“Yuuri, do you want to be in a movie?” He calls out. Yuuri slows to a halt on the ice.
“What?”
world champion figure skater and informant, world champion figure skater and informant, and lover to KATSUKI YUURI, 27, heir to the Katsuki name. VICTOR gazes at him, smitten, from across the rink.
Leo flicks a piece of his popcorn at Victor’s temple, laughing. He’s perched precariously on top of the boards, and it’s freaking Guang-Hong out a little because that’s so dangerous? What if he falls?
“Focus, lover boy. How about it?”
“I love it! What do I get to be? Can I be the hero?”
“Well, actually,” Guang Hong says. “About that….”
In a shady corner of a shady bar, VICTOR orders two shots of vodka.
“Is he even legal to drink?” Even with Guang Hong’s ID in hand, Minako looks dubious. He's been legal in Japan for almost two years!
“I mean, it’s just for a prop…”
“We weren’t supposed to drink it?” Victor’s glass is already empty. Leo sighs and cuts the recording.
“Let’s do that again from the top?”
VICTOR has information, as expected. He slides GUANG HONG a drink, with a note folded beneath the coaster. The information directs GUANG HONG to a Russian mafia operative by the name of YURI PLISETSKY, 19.
“Get that fucking camera out of my face,” Yuri spits. “Or I will crack it in half and shove it up your–”
Leo hastily closes the sliding door before the flung alarm clock can pass the threshold. It strikes the wooden frame and bounces off, leaving the paper unharmed. And them. Oh, thank god. This isn’t worth it, Guang Hong thinks. Nothing is worth this, he’s heard of dying for one’s art, but a man has to draw the line somewhere.
“Ooookay, never mind.” Leo turns to him. “We’ll find a different informant, then. Somebody who’s willing to talk.”
“One who doesn’t want to kill us,” Guang Hong agrees.
The information directs GUANG HONG to a Russian mafia operative by the name of YURI PLISETSKY, 19 Chief Information Security Officer for the Katsuki family and Hacker Extraordinaire PHICHIT CHULANONT, 24. He agrees to meet GUANG-HONG at the pier, provided he comes alone. He has security footage that might benefit GUANG-HONG’S investigation.
“Right here.” Phichit points to the screen of his laptop, playing a prop film. Leo, Guang Hong, and a few of the younger senior division skaters, dressed entirely in black, and ski masks, are removing a craft store bag’s worth of rhinestones from a fake display case. Briefly, one of the burglars with tufts of bright red and bleach-blonde hair poking out from the eye holes pauses his work to mime ninja poses for the camera. It’s kind of a cool touch.
Phichit taps the image of the diamonds. “It’s like they knew how to get in. It’s not easy– you can’t just waltz on in and grab the Katsuki family jewels.”
“So you think there was a leak?”
“No, more intentional. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“A traitor? No way.”
A routine job. Special commission for the Katsukis or no, GUANG-HONG still has a cause to serve for his own allies. And squatters on their turf cannot be tolerated. He prepares his weapons outside the warehouse skating rink – the site of the raid. Steadying his breath, he raises his sword, then turns to kick down the door.
“Guang Hong?” The water pistol freezes a breath away from his forehead. Guang Hong stills.
“Leo?”
“What are you doing here?”
The two lovers set aside their arms to fall into each other’s arms.
“Putting their hands all over the Katsuki family jewels?” Leo frowns. “That’s insane! They’d have to have a death wish!”
“Or want to start a war,” Guang Hong says. He can’t bear to meet Leo’s eyes as he thinks of the imminent bloodshed. To taint something as beautiful as what they have with the blood on his hands–
“But why would anybody want that? How could anybody profit from an all-out war in the skating underground?”
In times of trouble, GUANG-HONG always finds himself returning to the rink to center himself. As he glides across the ice, practicing his compulsory figures, he reflects on the information he’s gathered. Lost in thought, he nearly does not notice the assassin poised to strike.
It’s a fairly complicated scene, but it should be so worth it to see the finished result. Victor even helped them choreograph it! His one rule was that there would be no kicks. Which Guang Hong guesses makes sense, the blades can be pretty dangerous. One wrong move and someone could get hurt. Well, they have the water guns, and he has the cardboard sword. And also….
A hand-to-hand fight on the ice ensues between GUANG HONG and the ASSASSIN. Part dance, part mortal combat, the ASSASSIN attempts to drive GUANG HONG back up against the boards. But GUANG HONG is no amateur – he subdues and de-masks the assassin.
Yuuko can not stop laughing at the water gun pointed at her head. Granted….it is neon green with little flame decals. It was the coolest one they could find, and the sword doesn’t fit in his fleece pocket. So.
“Mama,” one of the girls cries out from the stands. The one in pink. It’s…really hard to tell the three of them apart without the color code, Guang Hong’s not sure which one Pink is. “Get in character, there’s nothing funny about this! You’re an assassin! Your life’s in danger!” The triplets may be the ones taking this movie the most seriously of all.
“I am so sorry, Guang Hong,” Yuuko wheezes. She snorts loudly as soon as she raises her head and sets eyes on the prop again. “Oh my god. We need to paint that thing, I’m going to lose it every time. Where did you get that?”
“The convenience store….” And, okay, when he says it out loud, it makes it sound even sillier. But the other ones had little plastic bubble reservoirs. All their heavy armament for the later scenes has them, too.
“You!” Right on cue, Yuuko’s husband thunders onto the scene. “Unhand my associate! Our reinforcements will be here any second!” Pink groans and drops her head into her hands.
“Forget it, Dad, the take’s already over…”
The assassins need little prompting to divulge what they know – it seems the Katsukis aren’t the only ones looking to recover the missing diamonds. Rival organizations within Japan and abroad have caught wind of the theft and all eyes in the figure skating underground are on the family jewels. For some, the diamonds are a leg up, a valuable asset in their dog-eat-dog world. To others, the chaos itself presents opportunity. A stray bullet, turf lost and claimed – why, suddenly even the smallest of operations could find something to their liking in this arrangement. Even if the jewels are found, the aftershocks will shake the earth beneath their very feet.
That’s the cue. The other two girls should be ushering in the rest of the students, right….
…about…
Loud rock music begins to blast from the rink speakers.
…now. Masked and dressed in black, the current and former students of the Hasetsu Ice Castle begin to pour onto the ice. This is the best part, Guang Hong thinks. The scene where he has to battle his way out of the rink, through what’s supposed to be hundreds of armed assailants. Victor waves the students onto the ice.
“One, two, three, four,” he counts, clapping out the beats for them. “Five, six, seven, eight! Group two– two, three, four–”
“Remember, no kicking,” Yuuri reminds the younger ones, helping them get their footing as they enter. He catches a small straggler to straighten out her ski mask. She giggles and wriggles her way out of his grasp to fix it herself, and then it’s straight into the fray, colorful plastic water guns blazing.
A bloody and exhausting battle ensues, to an intense rock number. GUANG HONG fights his way through an onslaught of enemy assassins and to the safety of a triad lair. There, in a short interlude, GUANG HONG tends to his wounds.
The cigarette has to stay unlit because nobody really wants to be the one to have to inhale when they light it. A skater’s lungs are his pride! They very foundation of his art! At least, that’s what Leo says his coach says. She has a lot of thoughts on art. As far as hardcore looks go, it’s tough to beat the look of a man patching up his own wounds while smoking a cigarette. It has grit! Very badass. Guang Hong makes sure to grimace for the camera as he tapes a large gauze pad to his waist. Just so everyone knows how hardcore it is. Leo gives him a thumbs-up from behind the camera.
Guang Hong picks up his phone and flicks it unlocked. He mimes making a call.
“Hello?” He says, to absolutely nobody on the other end. “I need to speak to The Cockerel.”
It took about six hours and three bottles of glue, but they managed to put together enough feather boas to make a luxurious-looking stole for The Cockerel.
CHRISTOPHE GIACOMETTI, 29 – The Cockerel. A force to be reckoned with in the skating underground. Nobody knows for sure where he gets his information, but if you need it, you can be certain he has it. He goes everywhere, sees everything, and knows everyone.
Christophe twirls one end of the stole with a flourish. It sheds feathers everywhere. For such a nice guy, he wears the seedy look awfully well. He even had the white suit and vibrant shirt ready to go from his own wardrobe! Such daring style!
“My dear little Guang Hong,” he practically simmers. He tips his sunglasses down to leer at Guang Hong over the rhinestone-encrusted rims. “Two years.”
“I’m sorry,” Guang Hong says, lowering his head in what he hopes looks to be an apologetic gesture. He’s doing his best to commit to this act, but he hasn’t exactly got the emotional background to method act his way through this part.
“Two years since you left me. Without a word since.” Christophe clutches at his breast as if in heartrending pain. “I made you. I very nearly hand-raised you.”
“I needed to find my own way,” Guang Hong reminds him, with all the sobriety he thinks the admission’s due.
“The club hasn’t been the same. You were the best enforcer we had.” Off to the side, Leo snorts. Guang Hong strains to keep his face straight. It’s…not that funny an image, is it? Yes, he’s petite, but he could make a mean-looking bouncer if he wanted. He can lift Leo and get Victor’s feet most of the way off the ground. Christophe lets his eyes flick sidelong towards Leo, then back. “We miss you. This awful business,” he flicks a wrist dismissively, “it just isn’t meant for you. The Society won’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated. They haven’t yet, have they?”
Guang Hong turns his hands over as if willing away the memory of blood upon them.
“Please,” he pleads. “I have to do this.”
THE COCKEREL did not take well to GUANG HONG’s decision to leave the club behind for a new life with the Black Society. With the weight of many years of things unsaid bearing down upon them both, THE COCKEREL concedes to give GUANG HONG one small clue – it is, he admits, all he has on the matter. And it is better than nothing.
“The International Skating Union is holding their annual awards gala in Detroit this year.” He swirls his drink, which Guang Hong is pretty sure is just some soda. Real alcohol is way too expensive for their production budget, and they’ve already spent so much on water guns and feather boas. “You probably can’t get a ticket, but you’re a resourceful boy. I’m sure you’ll find some way to get in.”
“But what’s happening there? How is that supposed to help? The Katsukis have enemies all over the figure skating underworld!”
“Oh, use that brain of yours!” Christophe taps his own temple. “You’ve been paying so much attention to the danger without, but you’ve been ignoring the corruption within! Perhaps you ought to begin with the Katsukis themselves, hm? It may be that the young master has gotten himself into something quite far over his head.”
KATSUKI YUURI. It doesn’t make sense. From any angle one looks at it, it’s a dead end. YUURI is an average young man in every application of the word. Perhaps even mediocre. He hasn’t the fortitude of his mother, or even the cunning of his father. His sister, both the eldest and the stronger of the two ought to be poised to inherit the clan. By all counts, he’s even an entirely unremarkable skater. The only noteworthy thing about him, GUANG HONG reflects, observing the gala preparations (with which the young master has been tasked with leading) from behind a velvet curtain in the wings, are perhaps his intimate ties to the living legend VICTOR.
Victor slides his arm around Yuuri’s waist as he passes, allowing himself to be pulled in for a brief kiss. The softness in his expression and Yuuri’s gentle smile seem almost too much to be entirely acting. It feels invasive to be filming it. Guang Hong flushes.
“Target sighted,” he says into the wireless headset that’s supposed to look like an official communication device. Nobody’s going to notice as long as they don’t look too hard at it. Leo makes a crackling noise like radio static.
“Roger that. What’s your position?”
“Target is at 4 o'clock. He’s checking the table seating, I think.”
“Okay. Stay close to him. Keep an eye out for unusual activity.”
“Got it.” Guang Hong leaves a moment of silence for the audience to breathe. And then: “You don’t have to do this.”
“Someone’s got to have your back,” Leo tells him. The smile in his voice is so warm Guang Hong can feel it in his chest. He brings his fingertips to the earpiece, like he could feel Leo’s cheek beneath them on the other side if he concentrated hard enough.
“You’re the only one I’d trust it with.”
“You too.”
They mean it.
But not a single thing YUURI does strikes an odd note. In the days leading up to the gala, he wakes at the same time. He runs and stretches, and then skates for a while. By nine he is showered and overseeing the setup. YUURI spends all morning onsite at the hotel and convention center, conferring with staff, making phone calls to advertisers and agents, wrapping up odds and ends here and there. He might eat a simple lunch if time allows. GUANG HONG watches him hesitate in front of the fried selections – and resignedly opt for lighter fare. The afternoon will likely involve more of the same, just as in the days before. Perhaps he’ll call his mother. Perhaps dinner with VICTOR. GUANG HONG chews over his own lunch and his thoughts, watching YUURI flick through his SNS feed a few tables over.
VICTOR, on the other hand, is another matter entirely.
“I think you should see this,” Leo tells him in a text, with a grainy video attached.
“Victor!” Kenjiro yells from off camera. He’s crouching somewhere below the shot. In the line of the lens instead is the hoodie-draped mop in his hands, with a pair of sunglasses tucked into the cording.
Russian mafia operative YURI PLISETSKY, 19. A world-class skater and ardent admirer of VICTOR’s. A name feared by many in both his chosen arenas.
“How much longer are you going to keep fooling around in Japan?!” Kenjiro waves the mop acting as Yuri with a furor to show the depths of Yuri’s passion. The sunglasses slip some. “Come home already!”
“Let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Guang Hong warns Leo. “It’s a small world for us figure skaters. I’d be more surprised if they didn’t at least know each other in passing.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got to read in between the lines. And I don’t like what I’m seeing.”
They try to keep it to just a little texting in the movie, because it’s hard to film and kind of boring to watch. They regroup instead at the dock over by the Ice Castle. The old man fishing there gives them a wave before they get started filming even though they don’t know any Japanese and he doesn’t know any English. They should find a bit part for him, he’s been so nice about all this filming in his fishing spot.
“Yuri Plisetsky.” Leo rubs his chin. “I thought he was working as a foot soldier in Moscow when he wasn’t skating. He can’t have come all the way to Detroit just to talk to Victor. He wants to bring him home.” This he punctuates by grasping at the air in front of him….which doesn’t really clarify what he’s trying to insinuate, but he’s trying to act naturally for the scene, and Guang Hong’s proud of him for putting his all into it.
“Victor’s unaffiliated.”
“So he says. People in our line of work say a lot of things.”
“You’re unaffiliated.”
"That….it’s different.“ That gets a response. Leo looks away, shamed into silence.
"I just don’t think he’s a mole. You’ve seen the way they look at each other.” He’s not exaggerating the sentiment when he pulls his legs up to his chest. The way Victor and Yuuri look at each other has a way of making everything else seem so small. Leo and he couldn’t script something like that if they tried.
Leo groans, shoving his hands into his hair.
“I don’t know! Ugh! God, maybe he’s not a mole. But then what? There's some plan we're not seeing. It’s not like they’re gonna do a Romeo and Juliet or something and just run away!”
Guang Hong starts. He turns to Leo.
“…unless….”
“Holy shit,” Leo says, eyes going wide, wider than Guang Hong has ever seen before in his life. “No way.”