Title: NFC CHAMPIONSHIP GAME, JANUARY 21, 2018

EXT. LINCOLN FIELD (’THE LINK’), PHILADELPHIA — EVENING

Eagles vs. Vikings. It’s freezing cold, so a lot of fans wear ski masks. We focus on a busy concession stand selling beer:

A chubby, baby-faced security guard (30s) escorts a slender, Black female vendor (30s) from the back office…

… She pushes a cart stacked with bags of money, a look of pure dread on her face, like a POW. Something’s wrong here…

… Two guys in ARAMARK jackets- one tall, one short- every inch of their bodies covered with clothing, await the cart. A cop strides by, ratcheting up the vendor’s anxiety…

… She wavers, hoping the cop stops. But he treads on by…

SHORT GUY/EDDIE (under his breath, urgent): Trust me.

… Figuring she can’t back out now, the vendor flashes him a flirty smile- these two know one other- and passes the cart.

EXT. PARKING LOT, LINCOLN FIELD — FIVE MINUTES LATER

The two guys swiftly push the cart towards a white ARAMARK van… nearby, a group of hardcore Eagles fans watch the game on a portable TV, guzzling beers. One of the tailgaters,

Her face painted green, studies the guys… notices the ARAMARK on the van is a decal, not paint. Also, the uniforms look official, but aren’t the real thing- they’re replicas.

She bounds to her feet, clenching a beer can. This is KATE THOMPSON (think Kaitlin Olson), a Philly detective who could outdrink and outcurse any brute on a construction crew.

KATE: Hey! Stop right there- PPD!

The guys heave the cart in the back of the van and hop inside… Kate chases after them… the van SPEEDS away…

BARRELS OVER a beefy man in a Vikings jacket. The tailgaters witness this. Stunned silence. Then, an explosion of CHEERS!

VIKINGS FAN (gasping): … Someone call 9-1-1…

The van BOLTS out of the parking lot. Kate grabs her phone as she darts past the wounded fan, splayed out on the pavement.

VIKINGS FAN: … Thank you…

DISPATCHER V.O.: Hey, Thompson! You at the game?

KATE (into phone, all business): 0-300 in progress. White Aramark van heading south on Pattison.

Just then, the crowd ROARS. The entire stadium SHAKES.

DISPATCHER V.O.: Woo-hoo!!! Touchdown!!!

Swigging her beer, Kate watches the van get away. She trudges back to her tailgate as the Viking fan staggers to his feet.

VIKINGS FAN: … Ya know, I-I think I’m okay…

Kate PUNCHES him in the face- knocking him back on his ass.

KATE: Vikings suck.

Philadelphia Inquirer headline: WE WIN!!! On the bottom, in small print: Lincoln Field Robbed, No Suspects.

INT. HALLWAY, LOW RENT APARTMENT BUILDING

The newspaper plops on a doormat that says STAY THE FUCK AWAY

INT. ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT

A fucking train wreck. Looks like it’s been ransacked by real vikings. Kate’s in her messy bedroom, scarfing down a carton of Turkey Hill ice cream, talking on her Eagles helmet phone (compliments of a Sports Illustrated subscription).

KATE: Ah, that’s bullshit- it’s my case!

On the wall, mixed in with all the sports shit, a shrine to her detective skills: all sorts of plaques and awards…

A photo of Kate graduating the academy. Standing next to her, Kate’s mentor: a tall, burly cop by the name of Nick Gaines.

KATE: I called it in! I saw the cocksuck- (the crappy phone dies) Goddammit.

CHUCKS the phone with all her might- it’s on a cord, so it FLINGS back like a boomerang and BASHES her on the forehead.

KATE: OWWW! Fuck you, Sports Illustrated.

She presses the ice cream carton against the reddening bulge on her forehead. Digs her fingers into the carton, shovels out a handful of ice cream and crams it in her mouth.