“THICKER THAN WATER”

A cash-strapped hitwoman, must confront the enemies of her past.

while balancing the bone-crunching world of professional hits and the

guardianship of her deceased sister’s kids.

“Thicker Than Water” — Pilot

1hr Episodic Drama / Thriller

By Buki Koshoni /RAW FILMS

There are few languages Jo speaks more fluently than the language of bullets and blood and right now this “Bosnian Fuck” is speaking her language. Soon he'll be dead, minus a finger and Jo will be home, money in the bank, gently kissing goodnight her adopted children. Jo never planned on being a Mother, she also never planned on getting kicked out the Army and eating Bosnian for dinner, but here she is, full to the brim on all three.

If sweat is the equity of success, then blood and pain are the currency of the contract killer, and Jo knows she must extract that blood from the heavy set Bosnian who stands before, Galib (42.) His fists pound her torso and face like a hammer to concrete. Kill the Bosnian, cut off his pinkie, dispose of the body, bring in proof of kill, get paid. There is nothing else.

After taking care of the large Bosnian and his crew, while simultaneously fielding calls from the babysitter Isabella and the kids, Jo makes her way across the Texan desert to mission HQ, an underground bunker beneath a local strip club. She's weary and battle-worn, but this is the most important phase, “kill confirmation”

Kosmo, the lab tech confirms her kill, “Go with God my child,” but not before Jo grabs a handful of cortisone shots, to numb her cracked ribs. Snaking through the main floor of the Red Rooster strip club, she arrives at wrought iron doors. Inside the doors rests Iman, her handler, a seasoned operative with years in the game. Iman confirms Jo's kill, and initially turns down Jo's pleas for a new contract, the same evening, but Jo plays her “I have two hungry adopted children at home” card and Iman folds out of pity and friendship.

Iman hands Jo her new killfile, a local boy, doesn't have to be pretty. He's a “redneck trucker” with a bad tobacco habit and an attitude to match.

After completing a purposely messy kill, designed to send a message, Jo enlists the help of the organizations clean up and delivery crew, who take care of the mess and deliver Jo home safely back to her abode.

Arriving safely home, Jo staggers to her front door, a working mother coming home to her children, sleeping safely in the bosom of suburbia. She checks in on the kids, Jordan and Sophie, two angles fast asleep. Creeping down the dark hallway into the living room, she spies the babysitter Isabella, asleep on the sofa, the flickering of the TV the only light in the dark room.

The late-night news on TV speaks of a man, late 30s, murdered outside a dinner earlier that evening, a police investigation has been launched into the gruesome murder. Jo barely reacts to the news. All is well in the Rose house, time for a well-earned bath, maybe a glass of wine, even cold-blooded killers enjoy a glass of Chablis.

Bath running, bath-bomb fizzing, Jo inspects her reflection in the mirror, her reflection is as broken as the day has been brutal. Sweat mattered hair, cracked ribs, bruises and cuts. Jo begins to cleanse her face and cut off the tips of blood-soaked hair.

Living room, Isabella, the sleeping babysitter’s eyes flick open, she sits upright, grabs her phone, punches in a number sequence, asks the operator for "Kill Authorization" her kill request is denied. Isabella is having none of it. “Bullshit, I've been on this “puta” for 8 months, it’s her. I know it is. Isabella cuts off the phone -- tosses it on the sofa. Shaking with anger -- she dives into her overnight bag, pulls out 3 pieces of nickel-plated metal. Individually they appear innocuous -- within seconds they form a brutal knife.

She strides menacingly down the hallway towards the bathroom. “This is for Bravo unit Bitch”, the ensuing fight is brutal, loud, but quick. The children wake, race down the hall to investigate the commotion, Jo places the dead Isabella into the bath-bomb coloured water, props her head up with a towel, a tired babysitter taking a well-earned soak.

The children bound down the hall, Jo meets them at the doorway of the bathroom, ushers them out, as not to wake the sleeping Isabella. Back to bed they go, this time Mum gets to tuck them in, kisses for both, lights off. Jo stumbles back down the hallway, into the bathroom, past a resting Isabella, into the shower, the warm water cascades down on Jo as she crumples to the shower floor, exhausted, in tears, an overworked mother, crying alone in the shower.

Flashback, courtroom, we see a younger Jo Rose, in army fatigues, standing before a Military Judge. The Judge brings the gavel down hard. “Sergeant Jo Rose. Pursuant to Section 892, Article 92, of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, you are hereby dishonourably discharged, effective immediately.”

Jo’s face -- stoic. Her heart -- racing. The Judge continues, “For the crime of disobeying a direct order and endangering the lives of your Unit, resulting in the death of all but one. You have violated our code and brought shame to the Ranger Core. Jo remains emotionless.