THE KILLER
Written by
Andrew Kevin Walker
Based upon the
graphic novel
by MATZ
Final Script w/ V.O.
Cherry Revised - 10/04/22
Salmon Revised - 03/24/22
Buff Revised - 03/10/22
Goldenrod Revised - 02/04/22
Green Revised - 01/17/22
Yellow Revised - 01/03/22
Pink Revised - 12/31/21
Blue Script 09/23/21
Renumbered - Revised White Script - 08/03/21
White Script - 03/08/21
FADE IN:
INT. PARIS OFFICE -- NIGHT
1 1
A large, dark, unfinished space. No one here.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE, BATHROOM -- NIGHT
2 2
No one in the dark, modern, albeit in-progress BATHROOM.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE, KITCHEN -- NIGHT
3 3
No one in the under-construction KITCHEN AREA.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE, COMMON AREA -- NIGHT
4 4
Not a soul amongst the dark CUBICLES, or in the adjoining
LOUNGE AREA, which hosts SAW HORSES, a BAND SAW, and
other CONSTRUCTION EQUIPMENT. Light TRAFFIC is HEARD
along with distant PEDESTRIAN VOICES through an open
WINDOW at the far end, as the glow of HEADLIGHTS casts
pale abstract patterns onto the ceiling. As if our eyes
are adjusting to the dark... we begin to see... this room
is not so em pty as it seemed. We can make out the FIGURE
of a MAN seated stark still to one side of the window...
Meet THE KILLER.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
It's amazing how physically
exhausting it can be to do
nothing. If you're unable to
endure boredom, this work is not
for you.
We see The Killer first mostly in silhouette.
He is seated erect in a straight backed, folding CHAIR,
close enough to the window to be abl e to peer out.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Paris awakens unlike any other
city. Slowly. Without the diesel
grind of Berlin or Damascus. Or
the incessant hum of Tokyo.
The Killer leans slightly forward so his unremarkable,
lately unshaven, 40-something face is cut by the shadow
of the sill from the bridge of his nose down.
Lights from below reflect in his eyes.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Popeye the Sailor probably said it
best... "I am what I am."
CONTINUED
2.
If you're paying strict attention, you might notice he
blinks only very occasionally, but who would notice that?
The Killer breathes, exhaling slowly through his nose.
He looks to his black FITBIT, TAPS from WATCH to HEART
MONITOR: which reads "45 bpm."
THE KILLER (V.O.)
It's not that I'm exceptional.
I'm just... apart.
He remains seated, motionless, watching. A heavy DROP
CLOTH hangs as make-shi ft window covering, and except for
it's slight undulating this is a still life.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I am The Stranger amongst you.
INT./EXT. POV: PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - NIGHT
5 5
The Killer has a vantage point on a GRANDIOSE APARTMENT
BUILDING across a small SQUARE.
CUT TO:
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE, COMMON AREA -- DAWN
6 6
DAWN SUNLIGHT is breaking on The Killer, who is where we
first saw him, looking out the brightening window.
INT/EXT. POV: PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - DAWN
7 7
We see a PICTURE WINDOW framed by the ornate façade of
that GRANDIOSE APARTMENT BUILDING across the SQUARE.
The window's CURTAINS are CLOSED.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE, COMMON AREA -- DAWN
8 8
After a moment, The Killer stands and stretches his arms
and shoulders. He tilts his head side to side to crack
his neck, stifling a yawn.
He's wearing LATEX GLOVES.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Consider yourself lucky if our
paths never cross.
The Killer crosses the large space.
DROP CLOTHS have been rolled aside to create a clear path
where he can walk on bare floor. (He wears flat soled,
SKETCHERS SNEAKERS. )
3.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE, KITCHEN - DAWN
9 9
Crossing the KITCHEN SPACE, The Killer goes to a SINK.
He takes a small, stainless steel DISK from his pocket.
As he opens it, we see...
...it is a COLLAPSIBLE DRINKING CUP.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Except, luck isn't real.
The gloved Killer runs the sink's FAUCET to fill the 6
ounce cup. He drinks, then shakes it over the sink a few
times to rid it of excess water. He collapses the cup,
pockets it, cros ses back.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Nor is karma. Or, sadly, justice.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE, COMMON AREA - WINDOW - DAWN
10 10
The Killer returns to the window, where he sits back at
his post.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
As much as I would like to pretend
these concepts exist...
The Killer bends to reach a medium-sized BACKPACK.
The PACK has some heft to it, although we don't see
inside. The Killer UNZIPS it on his lap.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
...they don't.
From the PACK, The Killer takes out a small, old-school
iPOD MINI with wired EAR PODS wrapped neatly around it.
He zips the PACK shut, slides it back.
The Killer unfurls the headphones.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
One is born.
Putting an EAR POD in his right ear, letting the other
dangle, The Killer thumbs the Mini, adjusts volume and
slides it into his breast pocket.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Lives their life.
CONTINUED
4.
The Killer resumes watching.
He seems neither bored nor particularly interested;
merely vigilantly sentinel.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
And eventually, one dies.
INT/EXT. POV: PARIS - TARGET WINDOW -- DAWN
11 11
The window's CURTAINS are still CLOSED. No sign of life.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
In the meantime...
CUT TO:
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - MORNING
12 12
The Killer moves to his window. He's peering down
through the narrow gap between window and drop-cloth, to
see without being seen.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
"Do what thou wilt shall be the
whole of the law." To quote...
someone; can't remember who.
He casts his gaze further downward.
EXT. POV:PARIS STREET - BELOW WINDOW - MORNING
13 13
A new day's begun on this somewhat touristy street of
SHOPS, small CAFES and BARS.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
140 million human beings are born
every year, give or take.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - MORNING
14 14
The Killer placidly observes.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Worldwide population is
approximately 7.8 billion.
EXT. POV:PARIS STREET -BELOW WINDOW -PATISSERIE- MORN
15 15
WAIT STAFF arrange TABLES and CHAIRS on the sidewalk
outside a BAR/PATISSERIE. A few VEHICLES pass.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Every second, 1.8 persons die.
5.
EXT. POV:PARIS STREET - BELOW WINDOW - BAR - MORNING
16 16
By the PATISSERIE entrance, a FEMALE BARTENDER crouches
to place a saucer of TUNA out for a hungry CAT, which she
pets.
EXT. POV:PARIS STREET - BELOW WINDOW-TARGET BUILDING-MORN
17 17
A DOORMAN stands before the GRANDIOSE APARTMENT
BUILDING'S ENTRANCE.
EXT. POV:PARIS STREET - BELOW WINDOW - MORNING
18 18
A TRAFFIC OFFICER strolls, looking at his PHONE.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
4.2 persons are born into that
same second.
EXT. POV:PARIS STREET - BELOW WINDOW - SHOPS - MORNING
19 19
A FEMALE SHOPKEEPER smokes and SWEEPS in front of her
SHOP. A LOCAL REALTOR, rolling up the SECURITY GATE of
his OFFICE, has stopped to chat with THE DOORMAN.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Nothing I've done will make any
dent in these metrics.
They exchange pleasantries.
CUT TO:
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE, COMMON AREA - MORNING
20 20
On an open area of bare floor, the Killer, still gloved,
does YOGA. He transitions...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Skepticism is often mistaken for
cynicism.
...to a PLANK POSE. He holds it, breathing evenly,
alternates lifting his legs behind, maintaining rigid,
exacting yoga form. He brings one bent knee forward...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Most people refuse to believe that
the Great Beyond is no more than a
cold, infinite void... but I
accept it.
CONTINUED
6.
...rises slowly, on one foot, to a BALANCING STICK POSE,
which he holds a moment before... he transitions, moving
with some fluidity... to a WARRIOR POSE.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Along with the freedom that comes
from acknowledging that truth.
Straightening, The Killer suddenly drops to begin doing
FINGERTIP PUSH-UPS, slowly...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
It occurs to me, that "the
moment," when it's time to act, is
not when my risk is greatest.
...with his eyes closed, and his BREATHING -- deeply IN
and OUT with each rise and fall of his body -- as much a
part of the exercise as the push-ups themselves.
Throughout, he doesn't break a sweat -- this isn't
strenuous exercise, it's disciplined fine tuning.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
The real problems arise in the
days, hours and minutes leading up
to the task, and the min utes,
hours and days after.
Eliminating risk comes down to
preparation, attention to detail,
redundancies... redundancies...
and redundancies.
CUT TO:
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - ENTRY - AFTERNOON
21 21
The Killer comes to the FRONT DOOR. He kneels to open a
leather TRAVEL BAG on the floor beside a MOTORCYCLE
HELMET with dark tinted VISOR.
A few pieces of folded CLOTHING are amongst the ORGANIZED
CONTENTS, including a BUCKET HAT and SUNGLASSES, both of
which The Killer takes and puts on. He next removes a
silenced GLOCK HANDGUN. From a side pocket...
...he gets a MONEY CLIP with a CREDIT CARD cl ipped
amongst EUROS. He unzips another compartment which holds
a NUMBER of (burner) PHONES. He takes one PHONE.
The Killer straightens, pockets the phone and money.
On his way to the door, he secures the Glock in his
waistband, under his shirt. He peeps out the PEEPHOLE.
He turns the doorknob, heading out.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
7.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Leave nothing for the elves, with
their tweezers, forensic baggies,
and DNA kits.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - PUBLIC HALLWAY- AFTERNOON
22 22
The Killer shuts the door, tests (it's got a KEYCARD
DEADBOLT above the knob) to make sure it's SECURE.
He glances at his Fitbit, walking briskly past...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
And avoid being seen. Which is
impossible in the 21st Century...
so at least avoid being
memorable.
The EMPTY SECURITY CAMERA MOUNT on the unpainted,
drywalled hallway wall. Skipping the ELEVATORS, he opts
for the stairs.
INT. PARIS OFFICE BUILDING - PUBLIC STAIRS - AFTERNOON
23 23
The Killer heads very quickly down the STAIRWELL.
INT. PARIS OFFICE BLDG - GROUND FLOOR LOBBY - AFTERNOON
24 24
Exiting the STAIRS, The Killer keeps up the pace, till he
abruptly slows to a casual stroll as he's passing...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Keep calm. Keep moving.
...in view of a SECURITY CAMERA mounted above.
EXT. PARIS OFFICE BLDG, ENTRANCE - AFTERNOON
25 25
The Killer steps out the FRONT DOOR, glances at his
Fitbit, keeps walking. As he does, he looks to...
...the ENTRANCE, across the square, of that GRANDIOSE
APARTMENT BUILDING. THE DOORMAN is there, arms crossed.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
The camo I'm wearing is based on a
German tourist I saw in London, a
while back.
EXT. PARIS OFFICE BLDG- STREET- PARKING AREA - AFTERNOON
26 26
The Killer's just another PEDESTRIAN headed for a small
KIOSK which is over-crowded with parked MOTORCYCLES,
SCOOTERS, BIKES and the like.
CONTINUED
8.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
No one really wants to interact
with a German tourist.
The Killer glances around -- as will often be his habit --
arriving at a shiny new VESPA parked curbside.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Parisians avoid them like the rest
of the world avoids street mimes.
He checks the PADLOCK on a KRYPTONITE CHAIN around the
Vespa. At the same time, he takes out an RF KEY. He
puts the key in the ignition, checks the BATTERY charge.
Satisfied, The Killer shuts the Vespa off.
He puts the key back in his pocket as he walks away.
PASSERS-BY pay him no real attention as he goes.
CUT TO:
EXT. PARIS STREET - MCDONALD'S- AFTERNOON
27 27
In a scenic and busy area the sidewalks full of TOURISTS,
SHOPPERS, BUSINESSMEN and WOMEN. The Killer walks
unremarkably along. He's bound for...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
There are fifteen hundred
McDonalds in France.
..a MCDONALD'S, where he offers his place in line to a
MOTHER and DAUGHTER who arrive just as he does.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
A good enough place to grab 10
grams of protein for a Euro;
alongside the 46 million people
they serve each week.
CUT TO:
EXT. PARIS - STREET - AFTERNOON
28 28
The Killer walks with BURNER PHONE to his ear, and a
McDonald's BAG at his side.
MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)
(from PHONE)
I assure you, he's in town.
(more)
CONTINUED
9.
MAN'S VOICE (V.O.) (CONT.)
I wish I could tell you the exact
moment he's going to show, but
according to every bit of
additional information I've been
able to get, he's expected. Best
I can do.
The Killer absorbs this.
MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)
(from PHONE)
Hello? Are you still there?
THE KILLER
(into PHONE)
It's been five days, so... I'll
give it today and tomorrow.
The Killer stops walking, near a street corner.
MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)
Fair enough. I needn't remind you:
if we don't meet our commitment...
THE KILLER
"We?"
MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)
Yes, frankly. "We" don't invoice
and "we" eat the expenses to date.
Just... call if the next 24 hours
pass uneventfully. Let's go from
there. Okay?
The Killer hangs up. In a seemingly practiced move, as
he lowers the hand holding the phone he DROPS the phone
to the street. Without looking down, he steps...
...CRUSHING IT under his heel. He SIDE-KICKS the broken
PIECES into the gutter as he walks away.
CUT TO:
EXT. PARIS ST - PARK - BENCH - TARGET BLDG -AFTERNOON
29 29
In the SMALL PARK not far from where his Vespa's chained,
The Killer is seated alone on an IRON BENCH.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
It's a dog eat dog world, to reuse
the apt cliché.
He unwraps two EGG MCMUFFINS beside two plastic BAGS of
APPLE SLICES.
CONTINUED
10.
The Killer disassembles his McMuffins, setting the
muffins into one WRAPPER, stacking the Canadian bacon and
disk-like eggs in the other.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Every man for himself. Kill or be
killed. Survival of the fittest.
He takes the apple slices, wraps the muffins in their
wrapper and in turn crumples them inside the carry-out
bag, as garbage.
Facing forward, the Killer eats what's salvaged; a
Ca nadian bacon sandwich with the two eggs for "bread."
Chews, swallows; consuming perfunctorily.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Isn't it all just human nature?
POV:
He's watching PEOPLE come and go. THE DOORMAN nods to
greet a RESIDENT.
ON THE PARK BENCH
Without moving his head, his eyes behind his sunglasses
take in everything and everyone.
POV:
A small CHILD plays, occasionally overseen by a NANNY ON
HER phone.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Of those who like to put their
faith in mankind's inherent
goodness, I have to ask...
A MAN in a SUIT with loose TIE is seated on a nearby
BENCH, head back, eyes shut, sunbathing.
An OLD MAN in a WHEELCHAIR is seated beside his NURSE.
The NURSE SMOKES a CIGARETTE.
ON THE PARK BENCH
The Killer tears a bag of apple slices with his teeth,
squeezes pieces into his mouth. Chews, chews, swal lows.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
...based on what exactly?
CONTINUED
11.
POV:
The OLD MAN, with TANK, OXYGEN TUBE and MASK, looks over.
CUT TO:
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - PUBLIC HALLWAY - AFTERNOON
30 30
The Killer finishes putting on GLOVES... takes out a
generic white KEYCARD, which he holds up to the door's
KEYCARD READER. There's a BEEP, and the DEADBOLT is
HEARD UNLOCKING.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I used to book a lot thru Airbnb.
Not anymore. Those Superhosts
love their nanny-cams.
The Killer enters.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Take comfort in the fact that 70
to 80 percent of wrongful
convictions are the di rect result
of eyewitness testimony.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - AFTERNOON
31 31
That TARGET WINDOW across the way remains curtained.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Still... only takes a few episodes
of DATELINE to know there are a
hundred ways to trip oneself up.
If you can think of a dozen of
them, you're a genius. I'm no
genius.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA -WINDOW -AFTERNOON
32 32
The Killer stands staring out his open window, arms at
his sides, one earbud in. He looks to the streets below.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Since the beginning of history,
the few have always exploited the
many.
12.
EXT. POV:PARIS ST - BELOW WINDOW - SHOPS - AFTERNOON
33 33
TOURISTS and BUSINESS PEOPLE walk the mid-day sidewalks.
Streets are semi-busy with TRAFFIC. People come and go
from SHOPS and APARTMENT BUILDINGS.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
This is the cornerstone of
civilization. The blood in the
mortar that binds all bricks.
EXT. POV:PARIS ST - BELOW WINDOW - SHOPS - AFTERNOON
34 34
At the cafe, COUPLES drink, smoke, SHOUT and LAUGH.
Many, with FOOD and DRINK before them, check PHONES.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Whatever it takes... make sure
you're one of the few, not one of
the many.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA -WINDOW -AFTERNOON
35 35
As The Killer raises it to his eye, we see he's holding a
rifle's SCOPE, which he uses to LOOK THROUGH...
EXT. POV:PARIS ST - BELOW WINDOW -SHOPS -AFTERNOON
36 36
POV THRU SCOPE:
At one cafe table, a BUSBOY clears dirty GLASSES and half-
full PLATES of FOOD into a PLASTIC TUB.
A DINER with COFFEE before him, adds three PACKETS OF
SUGAR to his cup, stirs.
At another table, FOLKS are all engrossed in TEXTING
here, scrolling INSTAGRAM there.
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - STRANGER WINDOW 1 -AFTERNOON
37 37
POV THRU SCOPE:
Thru one WINDOW: a WOMAN in a BATHROBE watches TV.
The TV's LIGHT plays on the WOMAN's face as her eyelids
and mouth droop. She's falling asleep.
EXT. POV:PARIS ST - BELOW WINDOW - SIDEWALK - AFTERNOON
38 38
POV THRU SCOPE:
A GUY exits the REALTY OFFICE, looking at a SPEC SHEET.
He bites at a HANGNAIL.
CONTINUED
13.
A WOMAN drags her crying DAUGHTER along behind her.
The little girl's hand in her mother's tight grasp.
They pass a well dressed MAN who's SHOUTING into his
PHONE; spittle flying from his angry lips.
EXT. POV:PARIS - BALCONY - AFTERNOON
39 39
POV THRU SCOPE:
On an adjacent BALCONY: the OLD MAN with OXYGEN TANK (we
saw earlier) is now shirtless, watching people below.
His OXYGEN MASK FOGS and UN-FOGS with each breath.
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS-WINDOW BELOW TARGET WINDOW - AFTERNOON
40 40
POV THRU SCOPE:
In a WINDOW below the TARGET WINDOW, the second hand
turns on a large, ANTIQUE CLOCK. Under the clock is a
large VASE brimming with DEAD FLOWERS, while, above...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
On Annie Oakley jobs, distance is
the only advantage.
INT./ EXT. POV:PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - AFTERNOON
41 41
POV THRU SCOPE:
...CURTAINS are still pulled in the target room.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Everything else... the popping
sound like fireworks; breaking of
glass; the screams... all
disadvantage.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA -WINDOW -AFTERNOON
42 42
The Killer lowers the SCOPE, still looking out.
CUT TO:
INT. PARIS OFFICE BUILDING - COMMON AREA - NIGHT
43 43
In his chair near the window, in darkness, with his
duffel open on the floor in front of him, The (always
GLOVED indoors) Killer takes out a CLOTH-wrapped OBJECT.
He unwraps the matte black BODY of a SNIPER RIFLE.
14.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - NIGHT
44 44
He next unwraps a CLOTH containing the BARREL and STOCK.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - NIGHT
45 45
The Killer is seated, staring blankly off as, in his lap,
he ASSEMBLES the SNIPER RIFLE; hands moving with
practiced precision... attaching STOCK to BODY... BARREL
to BODY... MAGAZINE to RECEIVER.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
When it comes to bystanders
getting involved -- everything
becomes a blur.
As The Killer secures the SCOPE in place, he looks down
to inspect the fully assembled, bolt action SNIPER RIFLE .
It's modern and deadly looking.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Combat veterans call this "tunnel
vision." I call it occupational
good-fortune.
An O.S. SOUND of KEYS on a KEYCHAIN is HEARD. The Killer
reacts, jerking his head to look, his eyes narrowing. He
sets his rifle aside on the floor, leaping to his feet.
He bounds across the room quickly and quietly as a BEEP
is HEARD at the DOOR, followed by DEADBOLT THUNK.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - ENTRY - COMMON AREA - NIGHT
46 46
At the DOOR, the KNOB turns. DOOR's OPENING.
The Killer slides on his knees, takes out his...
SILENCED GLOCK 43. He presses himself against the wall.
The DOOR SLOWLY opens, allowing a shaft of LIGHT into the
darkness. The Killer's on the hinge side, so he can see
the door opening, but can't see who it is yet.
The Killer holds his breath and slowly aims.
Whomever is about to enter is surely doomed.
T he unseen VISITOR tosses rubber-band BUNDLED MAIL onto
the floor inside the door.
The Killer waits, wary.
A long moment, then...
The door SHUTS with a PNEUMATIC HISS.
CONTINUED
15.
The Killer steps back.
He listens as a solid THUNK is HEARD from the DEADBOLT.
CUT TO:
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
47 47
The Killer's in his chair, looking out.
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - NIGHT
48 48
The watched WINDOW across the way remains dark.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
It's the idle hours that most
often lead a man to ruin.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
49 49
The Killer looks below.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
That's not Dylan Thomas, but it
ought to be.
EXT. POV:PARIS STREET - BELOW WINDOW - SIDEWALK -NIGHT
50 50
Few PEDESTRIANS and little TRAFFIC on the STREETS.
A POLICE CAR cruises thru, LIGHTS FLASHING, no siren.
At the BAR/PATISSERIE, there are fewer PATRONS.
THREE drunken MEN are DRINKING and SMOKING, carousing
loudly. Idle WAIT STAFF huddle nearby, bored.
EXT. POV:PARIS STREET - BELOW WINDOW - SIDEWALK -NIGHT
51 51
TWO WOMEN walk briskly along, heels clicking, arm in arm.
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - STRANGER WINDOWS 1 - NIGHT
52 52
In one WINDOW: TV GLOW shifts, but BATHROBE WOMAN's gone.
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - STRANGER WINDOW 2 - NIGHT
53 53
Thru a WINDOW: a very pale COUPLE makes out on a COUCH.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Somehow, jobs that are designed to
rattle a cage...
EXT. POV:PARIS STREET - BELOW WINDOW - SHOPS - NIGHT
54 54
FEMALE SHOPKEEPER and MALE REALTOR pass a cigarette
between them in front of their shuttered STOREFRONTS.
CONTINUED
16.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
...are always the most tedious.
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - STRANGER WINDOW 3 - NIGHT
55 55
In another WINDOW: a MAN, WOMAN, BOY and GIRL watch TV.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I've actually grown to appreciate
proximity work.
INT/EXT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA- WINDOW - NIGHT
56 56
FROM OUTSIDE:
The open UPPER FLOOR WINDOW, seen from outside, we can
just barely make out The Killer in the pale shaft of
light thru the CURTAIN.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Staged accidents. Gradual
poisonings. Anything requiring a
little creativity.
CUT TO:
EXT. POV:PARIS STREET - BELOW WINDOW - SHOPS - NIGHT
57 57
At the BAR/PATISSERIE, tables and chairs are gone. A
lone BUSBOY hoses down the sidewalk. A TAXI passes.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
When was my last nice, quiet
drowning? Seems like forever.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - HALLWAY -- NIGHT
58 58
In a lightless HALL, where the BATHROOM door is ajar, we
HEAR the O.S. SOUND of a TOILET FLUSHING. After a
moment, The Killer comes out, carrying a JUG of BLEACH.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - KITCHEN - NIGHT
59 59
The Killer brushes his teeth at the sink, using his
stainless steel, collapsible cup to rinse and spit. He
runs water over his TRAVEL TOOTHBRUSH, then folds it.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Gary Ridgeway, the Green River
Killer, murdered at least 49 women
over two decades. He couldn't
spell cat if you spotted him the A
and the T. But he was
conscientious.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
17.
He fills his COLLAPSABLE CUP. Drinks. Shakes the empty
over the sink a few times to rid it of excess water. He
re-collapses the cup, pockets it and the toothbrush.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I've put in my 10,000 hours.
Beyond which I'm aided and abetted
by law enforcement fatigue. Sheer
caseload.
The Killer uses a small SPRAY BOTTLE of HAND SANITIZER,
spraying in a circle to cleanse the entire sink and drain
while the faucet's still running.
CUT TO:
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - BEDDING - NIGHT
60 60
The gloved Killer unfolds a long SHEET of thick PLASTIC
across a length of DRYWALL which has been laid upon two
big, STEEL TOOL CRATES on rollers.
Fully dressed, he lays lengthwise; his bed for the night.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Ted Williams batted .344 Lifetime.
I'd be batting a thousand except I
won't take credit for watching
someone drop dead of a coronary.
The only time nicotine, red meat
and marita l stress did the hard
part for me.
He interlocks fingers on his chest, eyes closed, then
remembers...
He TAPS his FITBIT.
Shuts his eyes.
CUT TO:
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE -COMMON AREA-BEDDING- LATER NIGHT
61 61
The Killer sleeps soundlessly.
Soon, a vibrato HUM is HEARD from his FITBIT.
The Killer stirs. He opens his eyes.
He grudgingly taps the silent alarm OFF.
Sucks a deep breath to gather himself, gets up.
He crosses to the window.
18.
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - NIGHT
62 62
The WINDOW across the way is still dark.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE- COMMON AREA-BEDDING - NIGHT
63 63
The Killer turns to his makeshift bed.
Lays back down on the thick plastic sheet.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Of the many lies told by the U.S.
military industrial complex, my
favorite is still their claim that
sleep deprivation didn't qualify
as torture.
He pushes a button on his Fitbit.
Settles in, fingers entwined. Closes his eyes.
CUT TO:
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE- COMMON AREA-BEDDING- LATER NIGHT
64 64
INSERT:
The FACE of The Killer's Fitbit: showing 1:59:58...
1:59:59... 2:00:00, and the Fitbit begins VIBRATING.
2:00:01... 2:00:02... 2:00:03...
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA-BEDDING - NIGHT
65 65
The Killer's eyes flit open.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Vigilance is essential. Even the
most disciplined mind can become
weary.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
66 66
The Killer comes to look...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Impatient. Hurried. Sloppy.
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - NIGHT
67 67
The WINDOW across the way is dark.
CUT TO:
19.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA- BEDDING- NIGHT
68 68
For a long moment, we look upon The Killer in repose as
he sleeps on the plastic, hands on his chest as before.
You'd be hard pressed to say he looks peaceful though.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - BEDDING - NIGHT
69 69
CU: His EYES, beneath his eyelids, dance herky-jerkily;
evidence of wildly active REM ACTIVITY.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE -COMMON AREA- BEDDING- NIGHT
70 70
The Fitbit begins its predicable VIBRATING.
The Killer awakens, turns the alarm off.
He sits up.
Holds his head in his hands.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
71 71
The Killer, somnolent, sits up - stretching his neck,
then freezes -- does a DOUBLE-TAKE:
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - NIGHT
72 72
The WINDOW across the way is LIT. A MAID's OPENING
CURTAINS... then a window; airing the place out.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
73 73
The Killer absorbs this, steps forward to look down.
INT/EXT. POV: PARIS STREET -- TARGET BUILDING - NIGHT
74 74
POV:
Below, from a LUXURY CAR, MEN with UMBRELLAS get out...
heading to target building's ENTRANCE. THE DOORMAN NOW
ATTENDS.
CUT TO:
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - BEDDING - NIGHT
75 75
The Killer tears off his left glove (leaves the right),
drops it on the plastic sheet.
He quickly and carefully begins refolding the sheet;
always inwardly to the middle, folding the glove within.
20.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - ENTRY - NIGHT
76 76
The Killer comes to kneel, opens his travel bag and
shoves the folded plastic sheet inside.
MOMENTS LATER:
The Killer puts on his jacket and places his travel bag
on the floor directly in front of the entry door,
balancing his helmet on top.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - ENTRY - LATER NIGHT
77 77
The Killer kneels, UNZIPPING his BACKPACK on the open
floor. He takes out a thick, BLACK Heatworx GLOVE which
he pulls onto his left hand; now black clad left-handed
and latex right-handed.
He leaves the bag splayed, handles to each side, unfurls
a TOWEL and lays it across.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
78 78
The Killer takes his iPOD from his folding chair.
He puts one POD into his ear.
The Killer reaches to take the SCOPE from where his RIFLE
sits in neatly arranged PIECES on the wide windowsill.
Remaining standing, he uses the scope...
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - TARGET WINDOW + ADJACENT - NIGHT
79 79
POV THRU SCOPE:
The Maid's straightening a LIVING ROOM where there's a
bit of RENAISSANCE FURNITURE, including a LOUNGE CHAIR,
SIDE TABLE and COUCH in front of a FIREPLACE and MANTLE.
THE WINDOW TO THE LEFT: seems to be an empty FOYER.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
80 80
The Killer places the scope down, sits and takes up his
iPod MINI. He quickly dials up MUSIC, HITS play...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I find music a useful distraction.
A focus tool. Keeps the inner
voice from wandering.
Time to go to work.
CONTINUED
21.
The Killer grabs components, begins ASSEMBLING them
without looking; fitting BODY and STOCK together...
INTERCUT- POV:PARIS TARGET WINDOW-ADJACENT WINDOWS- NIGHT
81 81
The DOOR to the foyer's OPENING. TWO thugs enter, in
SUITS and TIES; BODYGUARD ONE and BODYGUARD TWO.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
82 82
...The Killer fits the BARREL into the BODY...
INTERCUT- POV:PARIS TARGET WINDOW-ADJACENT WINDOWS- NIGHT
83 83
Bodyguard One and Two go from the FOYER into the LIVING
ROOM (where Maid's still at work), clearing the place to
make sure it's safe.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
84 84
...The Killer examines BULLETS in the MAGAZINE... fits
the MAG into the RECEIVER, slaps it in place...
INTERCUT- POV:PARIS TARGET WINDOW-ADJACENT WINDOWS- NIGHT
85 85
LIGHTS come ON in the far right WINDOW, seemingly a
BEDROOM with CURTAINS mostly closed, so Bodyguard One,
entering, can only be glimpsed thru the sliver of a view.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
86 86
...The Killer AFFIXES the rifle's SCOPE. Done. Ready.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
My "process" is purely functional.
Logistical. Narrowly focused, by
design.
He leans back in his chair, takes a small BOTTLE of
EYEDROPS from his pocket, uncaps it.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I'm not here to take sides. It's
not my place to formulate any
opinion.
Head back, he DRIPS eyedrops into both eyes.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
No one who can afford me needs to
waste time winning me to their
cause.
CONTINUED
22.
Capping and pocketing the eyedrops, The Killer levels his
weapon so that just the barrel and front of the scope
extend thru the curtain. He CHAMBERS a round.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I serve no God or country. I fly
no flag.
While peering thru, The Killer ADJUSTS the scope.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I'm effective because of one
simple fact: I don't give a fuck.
INT/EXT.-POV:PARIS TARGET WINDOW- ADJACENT WINDOWS- NIGHT
87 87
POV THRU SCOPE:
In the LIVING ROOM, Maid crosses right, towards the
bedroom, just as Bodyguard One and Bodyguard Two are
crossing left. The Killer pans left to follow the
Bodyguards... into the FOYER, where...
...a grey haired, OLDER GENTLEMAN in a SUIT enters the
flat, along with an attractive, DARK HAIRED WOMAN wearing
a sleek, BLACK DRESS and STILETTOS.
Dark Haired Woman carries a black VALISE, w hile the
Killer's CROSSHAIRS fixate on Older Gentleman...
...following him as he talks to Dark Haired Woman and the
Bodyguards, but... Older Gentleman steps beyond the
window frame. He's still partially seen, REFLECTED in a
large MIRROR, addressing his bodyguards.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
88 88
The Killer swallows, his breathing rapid. He sits back,
inhaling deeply. He looks to his Fitbit, TAPS it.
Fitbit's screen tells the tale: "104 bpm."
He takes a deep breath, holds it, then lets out a few
sharp exhalations thru his teeth -- attempting to calm.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
At this range, a subsonic round's
drop is not an issue. I'm just
looking for a pulse rate under 60
and a measured squeeze, so vintage
glass won't alter trajectory.
He checks at his Fitbit: "75 bpm."
CONTINUED
23.
He's back to it...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Stick to your plan.
INT/EXT. - POV: TARGET WINDOW - ADJACENT WINDOWS - NIGHT
89 89
POV THRU SCOPE:
The Killer's AIM follows Dark Haired Woman as she enters
the LIVING ROOM. She places her valise on a COFFEE TABLE
before the COUCH and LOUNGE CHAIR... SCOPE POV SWINGS
left: Older Gent's NOT in the MIRROR...
POV SWINGS back... Older Gent has left the FOYER and is
in the LIVING ROOM, stopping to plant a kiss on Dark
Haired Woman, who's opening her valise. Older Gent keeps
going righ t. Dark Haired Woman's case contains many
interesting items, but she takes out a CROP, which she
places on the table.
The Killer SWINGS RIGHT... to the BEDROOM curtain sliver.
Older Gent passes, partially seen. He's moving around;
looks like he's disrobing.
To the left... Dark Haired Woman heads right, passing the
Maid -- neither woman acknowledging the other. Maid
exits to somewhere deeper in t he flat. POV: SWINGS
RIGHT... to confirm Older Gentleman's still partly
visible in the BEDROOM, then POV... refocuses as a LIGHT
comes on in a SMALLER WINDOW, right of the LIVING ROOM.
That glass is pebbled; a BATHROOM WINDOW. Dark Haired
Woman's occupied in there. POV SHIFTS left... to the
LIVING ROOM, where Bodyguard Two follows the Maid's lead.
Bodyguard One places a DRINK beside the lounge chair,
then comes to the target window, now centered in The
Killer's CROSSHAIRS.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
90 90
The Killer's Fitbit reads: "78 bpm."
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Anticipate, don't improvise.
INT/EXT. - POV: TARGET WINDOW - ADJACENT WINDOWS - NIGHT
91 91
POV THRU SCOPE:
The Killer SWINGS AGAIN to... the BATHROOM WINDOW, still
lit, but past that... the BEDROOM WINDOW's sliver is
DARK. The Killer immediately resets, searching left...
CONTINUED
24.
In the LIVING ROOM, Bodyguard One exits. The KILLER'S
SCOPE discovers... someone's entering, partially in view,
wearing a BATHROBE. They're tantalizingly half-seen --
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
92 92
The Killer lifts his head, quickly rolls his neck forward
and back, side to side, then... back to it...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Trust no one. Never yield an
advantage.
INT/EXT. - POV: TARGET WINDOW - NIGHT
93 93
POV THRU SCOPE:
-- Until they cross to the chair: it's Older Gentleman,
in full view. He's bare-chested under the robe,
gesticulating while talking to someone we can't see.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
94 94
The Killer tenses, SUCKS AIR -- HOLDS HIS BREATH.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Fight only the battle you're being
paid to fight.
His thumb CLICKS the rifle's SAFETY OFF.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Forbid empathy. Empathy is
weakness. Weakness is
vulnerability.
His finger curls nearly imperceptibly on the TRIGGER.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Each and every step of the way,
ask yourself, what's in it for me?
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS TARGET WINDOW - NIGHT
95 95
POV THRU SCOPE:
Older Gent's still speaking. He takes up the drink
Bodyguard left him as he plops down in the lounge chair.
The Killer's CROSSHAIRS follow Older Gent's face while
he's sipping his cocktail.
25.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
96 96
CU: The Killer's RIGHT EYE -- lit by LIGHT passing thru
the scope -- TWITCHES.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
This is what it takes... what you
must commit yourself to...
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - NIGHT
97 97
THRU SCOPE POV:
Older Gent is perfectly dead-centered, but his eyes are
following someone when -- SUDDENLY a BLURRED FIGURE
COMPLETELY FILLS The Killer's SCOPE just as...
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
98 98
THE KILLER (V.O.)
...if you want to succeed.
Simple.
The Killer's finger SQUEEZES THE TRIGGER, firing.
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - NIGHT
99 99
POV THRU SCOPE:
Thru the target window: the half-naked, oblivious DARK
HAIRED WOMAN has crossed into the line of fire; she's
nearer to the now SHATTERING WINDOW -- her SHOULDER
EXPLODING her fracturing ARM WHIPLASHING as she's THROWN
by the bullet's IMPACT.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
100 100
The Killer gasps thru his teeth, still eyeing his scope.
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - NIGHT
101 101
POV THRU SCOPE:
The mortally wounded woman SLAMS the floor. Older Gent's
terrified, searching eyes are uncomprehending.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
102 102
The Killer works the bolt, RELOADING.
INT/EXT. POV:PARIS - TARGET WINDOW - NIGHT
103 103
POV THRU SCOPE:
CONTINUED
26.
A CURTAIN SWEEPS closed across the target window.
INT. PARIS OFFICE SPACE - COMMON AREA - WINDOW - NIGHT
104 104
The Killer lifts his head from the scope.
THE KILLER
Fuck.
He stands, lifting his rifle. He KICKS the FOLDING
CHAIR, which slides... across the floor.
He bends while crossing, picks up the SHELL CASING...
...and he hurriedly disassembles the rifle as he goes;
unscrewing the barrel with his Heatworx-gloved hand.
Astride the duffel bag, he drops casing and smoldering
rifle body, scope attached, onto the waiting towel. He
closes the towel over it all, begins ZIPPING the duffel.
The towel gets caught. He unzips... re-zips.
Hoisting the duffel bag by its shoulder strap, gun barrel
still held, The Killer strides across the room. He
stops, turns back... KICKS one rolled DROP CLOTH so it
unrolls back into place over the open floor.
He stashes his EARBUDS in his shirt, puts on his
motorcycle helmet. He grabs his travel bag, slinging it
across his back.
INT. PARIS OFFICE BUILDING - PUBLIC HALLWAY - NIGHT
105 105
The Killer exits the offices, glances down the empty
hall. He heads for the STAIRS, trying to remain calm.
INT. PARIS OFFICE BUILDING - PUBLIC STAIRS - NIGHT
106 106
The Killer, helmet on, strides down. He's got the rifle
barrel and silencer concealed along his forearm.
Further on, there's a SOUND from below in the stairwell.
The Killer halts, wary. He lets the barrel slide down,
till he holds it now by one end -- a heavy cudgel.
He peers down the center of the stairwell. Waits.
After a moment, he keeps going, heading downward.
27.
INT. PARIS OFFICE BLDG - GROUND FLOOR LOBBY - NIGHT
107 107
Exiting the STAIRWELL, and -- under the SECURITY CAM's
watchful eye -- the Killer slows in an attempt at a
stroll, so the journey to the FRONT DOOR becomes
interminable.
EXT. PARIS OFFICE BLDG STREET - PARKING AREA - NIGHT
108 108
The Killer shoves the doors, picking up the pace. On the
way to his waiting VESPA, he makes a slight detour past a
line of CONSTRUCTION DUMPSTERS.
The Killer pulls the folded plastic sheet and discards it
in one dumpster.
Amongst the other BIKES and CYCLES, The Killer takes a
knee. He uses his latexed hand to solve the PADLOCK.
He's having trouble, must take a breath, then thumbs the
combination. .. pulls the LOCK OPEN.
He gets on the Vespa, leaving the chain and lock hanging.
He takes out his key, uses it... but the cycle merely
SPUTTERS.
We can't see The Killer's face, but we can imagine.
He tries again, looks around. Again. The Vespa RUMBLES,
heading... into the empty night.
EXT. PARIS - STREETS - NIGHT
109 109
The Killer accelerates, swerving onto a SIDE STREET.
He reaches behind him, and with a flick of his wrist...
ANGLE ON:
...he tosses the silenced RIFLE BARREL, which SPARKS
across the asphalt and disappears down a SEWER GRATE.
CUT TO:
EXT. PARIS - STREETS - SACRE-COEUR - NIGHT
110 110
The Killer cruises, just at SPEED LIMIT, on STREETS in
the shadow of THE PANTHEON's hilltop grandeur.
CUT TO:
EXT. PARIS - STREETS - NORTH SUBURBS -- NIGHT
111 111
FOLLOW: The Killer navigating mostly empty thoroughfares.
Closed STOREFRONTS zip by.
Ahead, a green hued GARBAGE TRUCK lumbers.
CONTINUED
28.
The Killer reaches back with one hand...
He grips the weighty backpack by its handles.
Slowing, The Killer careens alongside the truck...
He FLINGS the weapon laden pack into the yawning back of
the truck. He ZOOMS past, motoring on.
CUT TO:
EXT. ROADSIDE, QUAI DE SEINE, SAINT-DENIS -- NIGHT
112 112
FOLLOW: The Killer, on his Vespa, turns his HEADLIGHT OUT
as he rides over the curb. He STOPS before a BRIDGE.
He turns the Vespa off, heels the kickstand, leaves the
KEY in the ignition, dismounts. With his back to the
occasional VEHICLE motoring by, he takes out the bottle
of HAND SANITIZER and SPRAYS the KEY, ignition and
handlebars thoroughly.
He walks, helmet on, to a railed STAIRWAY.
THE KI LLER (V.O.)
Well... this... this is new.
EXT. PARIS - CANAL DE SAINT-DENIS - NIGHT
113 113
The Killer walks a broad, graffitied WALKWAY bordering
the CANAL DE SAINT-DENIS. He takes his helmet off,
surveying the deserted surroundings across the WATERWAY.
He peels off his GLOVE, puts it into the helmet. As he
approaches a RAILING...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
W.W.J.W.B.D.? What Would John
Wilkes Booth Do?
...he DROPS the helmet into these deep waters.
The Killer walks on until something occurs to him.
He searches pockets... comes up with the office KEYCARD,
which he backhand-flings over the rail.
CUT TO:
EXT. PARIS - SUBURBS - GAS STATION - NIGHT
114 114
The Killer walks to a small, 24-HOUR GAS STATION.
He keeps his distance from the CASHIER WINDOW, where a
bored CASHIER reads a MAGAZINE.
29.
INT. GAS STATION BATHROOM - NIGHT
115 115
In this tiny BATHROOM, the shirtless Killer runs HOT
WATER at the SINK while scrubbing his sudsy hands and
forearms vigorously.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Nitro. This much atomized nitro --
might as well wash my eyes and
shave my tongue. Gotta get rid of
as much as possible.
He pumps more gritty PINK SOAP from the DISPENSER, works
his hands to clean underneath his fingernails. He bends
to splash water on his face and begins washing his hair,
neck and ears.
CUT TO:
EXT. PARIS - SUBURBS - GAS STATION - NIGHT
116 116
The Killer, in BUCKET HAT and SUNGLASSES, with TRAVEL
BAG, leaves the gas station behind.
As he hits the sidewalk, he raises his hand, signaling
O.S., gives a sharp, SHRILL WHISTLE.
CUT TO:
EXT. PARIS - CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT - NIGHT
117 117
A TAXI glides to the curb, STOPS, discarding The Killer.
As The Killer reaches the ENTRANCE, he takes out his HAND
SANITIZER and approaches a TRASH CAN. Standing close to
the receptacle, he surreptitiously removes the GLOCK from
his back waistband.
With both hands behind him, he SPRAYS hand sanitizer onto
the gun, flips the gun in his palm, SPRAYS again, then
TOSSES the Glock into the trash can.
CUT TO:
INT. CDG AIRPORT - AIR FRANCE TICKETING - NIGHT
118 118
The Killer accepts a BOARDING PASS from a KIOSK.
30.
INT. CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT, DEPARTURES - NIGHT
119 119
The Killer (in bucket hat) rises on an ESCALATOR to
DEPARTURES LEVEL. The place is mostly dead. A JANITOR
works a FLOOR POLISHER.
CUT TO:
INT. CDG AIRPORT - SECURITY - NIGHT
120 120
Airport's busy now. The Killer waits in a LINE of PEOPLE
wending to SECURITY. Looking ahead, he notices...
TWO SECURITY OFFICERS chat, drinking take-out COFFEE.
One of them holds the leash of a seated, bomb-sniffing,
GERMAN SHEPARD. The men are caught up in their
conversing, but the dog turns and...
...looks directly at The Killer.
The Killer faces forward, shuffles along as the line
advances. H e's next. A beat. The Killer glances at his
Fitbit. Another beat. The Killer turns and heads...
INT. CDG AIRPORT, PUBLIC RESTROOM -- NIGHT
121 121
On his way in, The Killer drops his FITBIT in the TRASH.
MOMENTS LATER:
At communal SINKS, The Killer's repeating roughly
scrubbing his hands and forearms with SOAP and HOT WATER.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
You've done what you can do.
Calm. Breath.
(to SELF IN MIRROR)
Hey.
FEMALE VOICE (V.O.)
(pre-lap)
Oh... don't you have quite a lot
of miles, Mr. Unger? Impressive.
CUT TO:
INT. CDG AIRPORT - AIR FRANCE LOUNGE - SUNRISE
122 122
INSERT: FEMALE GREETER'S HAND places a TICKET and
FREQUENT FLYER CARD on the counter; both in the name of
"FELIX UNGER."
A FEMALE GREETER smiles at The Killer as she hands his
black, PRIORITY PASS CARD back across her DESK.
CONTINUED
31.
FEMALE OPERATOR (V.O.)
(pre-lap)
Collect call from Mr. Unger. Will
you accept the charges?
DOLORES' VOICE (V.O.)
(pre-lap)
Yes, operator. We will.
INT. CDG AIRPORT - AIR FRANCE LOUNGE PHONE BOOTH- MORNING 123
123
In a GLASS BOOTH, The Killer's on a BURNER PHONE.
MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)
(from PHONE)
How could this happen? Help me to
understand. It's unprecedented,
especially for you.
THE KILLER
(into PHONE, flatly)
It happened.
MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)
Is that what you suggest I inform
the client? "It happened."
(pause, heard breathing)
This is a problem. Obviously,
it's a problem, to say the least.
I'll offer to make it right, as
soon as humanly possible. The
window of opportunity's closed
now, for who knows how long.
Makes this all the more difficult,
but I'll... I'll tell him we'll do
whatever necessary. Let me know
the moment you're all the way out.
(pause, breathing)
Jesus fucking Christ.
A HANG UP is HEARD; LINE goes DEAD. The Killer HANGS UP.
CUT TO:
INT. CDG AIRPORT - AIR FRANCE LOUNGE BATHROOM - MORNING
124 124
The Killer, REFLECTED in the MIRROR, uses a disposable
RAZOR to shave his lathered face.
CUT TO:
32.
INT. CDG AIRPORT - AIR FRANCE LOUNGE - MORNING
125 125
Many TRAVELERS now, getting FOOD and DRINK in the
KITCHENETTE. OTHERS sit charging and looking at PHONES
and LAPTOPS, or reading NEWSPAPERS. The Killer, in hat
and sunglasses, is seated in a plush CHAIR.
He just sits there, upright, feet flat on the floor,
hands across his lap, staring forward.
INT. AIRPLANE - PARIS FLIGHT - DAY
126 126
With the WHINING ENGINES HEARD, we find -- packed in
amongst the restless AWAKE and fitful ASLEEP -- The
Killer staring ahead from deep in the purgatory of COACH.
He's in an aisle seat, leaning slightly, noticing...
INT. POV: AIRPLANE - PARIS FLIGHT - DAY
127 127
As one FLIGHT ATTENDANT steps aside, there's a straight
view all the way up the aisle to BUSINESS CLASS... where
it seems a MAN in a slender blue SUIT and SUNGLASSES is
looking back this way.
INT. AIRPLANE - PARIS FLIGHT - DAY
128 128
This strikes The Killer as odd. He leans further.
INT. POV: AIRPLANE - PARIS FLIGHT - DAY
129 129
Slender-suited Business Man turns, gone from sight as he
faces forward. Until, he crosses his legs, revealing
garishly colorful, PLAID SOCKS. He waggles his foot.
INT. AIRPLANE - PARIS FLIGHT - DAY
130 130
The Killer leans back to sit up straight.
CUT TO:
INT. SOUTHEASTERN U.S. CITY - AIRPORT - JETWAY - DAY
131 131
ATTENDANTS say goodbyes as PASSENGERS exit the airplane:
nearly every person distracted by their PHONE, except...
...The Killer, walking purposefully up the carpeted
passageway. He makes his way through dawdlers.
CUT TO:
33.
INT. SOUTHEASTERN CITY - AIRPORT - CUSTOMS - DAY
132 132
The Killer waits in line, PASSPORT in hand, with all the
CUSTOMS WINDOWS ahead occupied by other TRAVELERS.
The Killer looks back, sees...
...BEHIND HIM in line, that Business Man, still wearing
SUNGLASSES, although he doesn't seem to be paying
attention to anyone.
CUT TO:
INT. SOUTHEASTERN CITY - AIRPORT/DEPARTURE GATE - DAY
133 133
The Killer stands, in the BOARDING AREA, watching...
Across the way, Slender-suited Business Man is seated in
a waiting area, looking at a MAGAZINE, his legs crossed --
his eye-catching PLAID SOCKS on proud display.
AGENT'S VOICE (V.O.)
"Attention passengers, Flight
1258, departing for Punta Cana.
We'll be boarding shortly. We are
offering complimentary travel
vouchers today to those few
passengers who might be willing to
take a later scheduled flight.
So, please speak to any gate agent
if..."
The Killer tilts his head, listening.
CUT TO:
INT. SOUTHEASTERN CITY - TICKETING - DAY
134 134
In the airport hustle and bustle, The Killer's at yet
another COUNTER, with a FEMALE AGENT before him.
INSERT: FEMALE AGENT'S HAND places a PLANE TICKET inside
a PASSPORT, each bearing the name "ARCHIBALD BUNKER,"
before offering them over the top of her SCREEN to O.S.
WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
(types on HER COMPUTER)
Thank you for agreeing to give up
your seat today, Mr. Bunker. This
entitles you to a r oom voucher
this evening and free drink tokens
for your flight tomorrow.
(hands over PAPERWORK)
(more)
CONTINUED
34.
WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) (CONT.)
WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) (CONT.)
You'll fly out first thing in the
morning. It is direct to Punta
Cana.
CUT TO:
INT. SOUTHEASTERN CITY - AIRPORT HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
135 135
THRU a 3RD FLOOR WINDOW: nothing like the view from an
airport hotel. TERMINALS, SKYWALKS and incoming TRAFFIC.
It's The Killer's POV, as he stands staring out.
An O.S. KNOCK on the door is HEARD. The Killer turns.
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
(thru the door)
Room service.
The Killer pulls the CURTAIN shut, crosses the small,
DARK ROOM to answer the door.
INT. SOUTHEASTERN CITY - AIRPORT HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
136 136
THE KILLER'S HANDS place a ROOM SERVICE TRAY on the DESK.
There's a thermal COFFEE POT, COFFEE CUP, plastic wrapped
GLASS of WATER, SILVERWARE including a STEAK KNIFE, and --
revealed as he lifts the METAL WARMING COVER -- a burnt
STEAK, shriveled POTATO, and dry SUCCOTASH.
INT. SOUTHEASTERN CITY - AIRPORT HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
137 137
The Killer (in BOXERS and T-SHIRT) walks to the latched
door, carrying the WARMING COVER and empty WATER GLASS.
He places the overturned metal cover on the floor against
the door, directly beneath the doorknob.
He places the upside-down glass on the top of the
doorknob, carefully... till it's perfectly balanced. If
the knob turns, the glass will fall to the lid below.
The Killer crosses, pulls th e BLANKET from the BED,
brings it along as he goes to the desk to take...
...the serrated STEAK KNIFE from the untouched meal.
He sits down in an ARMCHAIR against the far, opposite
wall, by the curtained window.
He places the steak knife on a SIDE TABLE, easily within
reach. He turns the table's small LAMP OFF.
He shuts his eyes.
CUT TO:
35.
EXT. SOUTHEASTERN CITY - AIRPORT HOTEL - DAWN
138 138
DAWN over the weirdly integrated airport HOTEL.
INT. SOUTHEASTERN CITY - AIRPORT HOTEL - HALL - MORNING
139 139
Long, empty HALL. A room DOOR OPENS.
The Killer sticks his head out, looks both ways.
CUT TO:
INT. PLANE AIR FRANCE - U.S. TO CARIBBEAN FLIGHT - DAY
140 140
Jet's boarding. Again from deep in COACH, mostly alone
amongst the earliest to board, The Killer has his head
cocked to watch from his aisle seat as PASSENGERS FILE IN
and stow CARRY-ON BAGS.
CUT TO:
EXT. CARIBBEAN ISLAND AERIAL APPROACH -- DAY
141 141
The descending POV approaches a Caribbean ISLAND...
banking over dense JUNGLE.
EXT. CARIBBEAN CITY AIRPORT - ITNL TERMINAL - DAY
142 142
The Killer (w/travel bag) exits a rusty TERMINAL.
INT. CARIBBEAN CITY AIRPORT- LONG TERM PARKING GARAGE-DAY 143
143
He walks to his rugged 4x4 JEEP, takes out KEYS.
INT/EXT. CARIBBEAN CITY AIRPORT - LONG TERM PARKING - DAY 144
144
The Killer exits PARKING. Roars off.
EXT. CARIBBEAN CITY - URBAN STREETS - ROUTE 1 - DAY
145 145
The Killer drives CITY OUTSKIRTS.
INT/EXT.JEEP-CARIBBEAN HIGHWAY-HELICOPER-SHOT HIGHWAY-DAY 146
146
The Killer continues, the city now far behind. The
highway is bordered by miles of verdant MOUNTAINS and
endless FARMS.
INT/EXT. CARIBBEAN COUNTRYSIDE - HIGHWAY/ DIRT ROAD - DAY 147
147
The Killer's jeep takes a sharp turn off the highway,
onto unpaved, dirt ROAD; into the COUNTRYSIDE.
36.
INT/EXT. CARIBBEAN COUNTRYSIDE - VILLAGE - DAY
148 148
The Killer moves through a grouping of ramshackle
BUILDINGS, including an "ENGINE" SHOP and a MARKET with
"COCA-COLA" SIGNS. LOCALS, mostly Afro-Caribbean, tread
the roadway and come and go from businesses.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT CARIBBEAN PROVINCE -RAINFORST- AFTERNOON
149 149
The jeep navigates dark JUNGLE, HEADLIGHTS coming ON.
INT/EXT CARIBBEAN PROVINCE -RAINFOREST -AFTERNOON
150 150
The Killer looks ahead to a wide, dirt ROADWAY...
SIGNS say "PRIVATE ROAD," and "NO TRESPASSING" in
Spanish, Creole, French, a few other languages.
ON THE DIRT ROAD:
The Killer takes this private road, journeying deeper
into the isolating RAINFOREST.
INT/EXT.CARIBBEAN -PRIVATE ROAD- GATE- AFTERNOON
151 151
The Jeep stops beside a keypad CALL BOX, with a closed
GATE ahead. The Killer leans to the keypad, but notices
something. He gets out, walks, seeing...
There are A DOZEN crushed CIGARETTE BUTTS in the dirt.
Enough for him. The Killer returns to his Jeep.
INT/EXT. JEEP-CARIBBEAN-PRIVATE ROAD-GATE-AFTERNOON
152 152
The Killer swipes open the GLOVE COMPARTMENT...
grabs a GLOCK from within.
INT/EXT.CARIBBEAN -PRIVATE ROAD- GATE- AFTERNOON
153 153
He runs, climbs the gate, running onward.
INT/EXT - CARIBBEAN - PRIVATE ROAD -CLEARING - AFTERNOON
154 154
The Killer enters a clearing on fairly sizable plot of
land. Ahead, his house is a jaw-dropper of modern
architecture, with coastal BEACH FRONT visible through a
break in the tree line beyond.
There's much floor-to-ceiling GLASS in the structure.
Yet despite darkening skies overhead, not one light on.
Also adding to The Killer's rising dread...
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
37.
...is the imprint of a partial BOOT PRINT left by someone
walking to the house.
CUT TO:
EXT. ESTATE HOUSE - REAR - AFTERNOON
155 155
The Killer, gun ready, circles around from the side of
the house, crouched to minimize the target area of his
body, watchful as he approaches. His lips peel from his
clenched teeth when he sees...
Wind-tossed CURTAINS.
INT. ESTATE HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - AFTERNOON
156 156
The Killer enters, gun first.
No sign of anyone in this OPEN LOUNGE-AREA, but the place
is TRASHED. LAMPS lie BROKEN. DRAWERS pulled and
tossed; CONTENTS strewn everywhere.
INT. ESTATE HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - AFTERNOON
157 157
The Killer moves stealthily forward, gun up.
INT. ESTATE HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON
158 158
As The Killer enters and crosses, wherever his eyes go
his gun likewise points as he rapidly clocks the also
wrecked LIVING ROOM -- no sign of anyone yet.
INT. ESTATE HOUSE - KITCHEN - AFTERNOON
159 159
He looks to BUTCHER KNIFES scattered on the floor with
the wood block KNIFE HOLDER that held them lying nearby.
The Killer backtracks, heads into a HALL..
INT. ESTATE HOUSE - HALLWAY - AFTERNOON
160 160
There's a BLOODY KNIFE on the floor.
There's SPLATTERED and SMEARED BLOOD up the hall.
The Killer rushes to the end of the hall.
INT. ESTATE HOUSE - BATHROOM - AFTERNOON
161 161
The condition of the BATHROOM tells of struggle. BLOOD
and the LIQUID contents of BROKEN PERFUME BOTTLES mingle
amongst SHARDS of BROKEN MIRROR on the floor.
There's a SMEAR of CRIMSON across the seat of the closed
toilet. The Killer lowers his gun... hesitating for the
merest moment as he reaches to...
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
38.
...sweep the closed SHOWER CURTAIN open.
The large SHOWER/TUB is empty.
Stepping back, with glass CRUNCHING underfoot, The Killer
only now notices that by the SINK...
...is a somewhat diminutive, unmistakably BAREFOOT,
FOOTPRINT in BLOOD on the COUNTERTOP.
The Killer looks up to the small, rectangular WINDOW
above the sink, which is open to the SOUND of JUNGLE.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT. JEEP-CARIBBEAN-PRIVATE RO AD-GATE-AFTERNOON
162 162
The Killer gets back to his Jeep, gun no longer raised.
At the open passenger door...
...he grabs a PHONE from the open glove compartment. He
turns the phone on. With his sweat-soaked features lit by
the dim SCREEN GLOW, he DIALS.
CUT TO:
EXT. (CARIBBEAN) LOCAL HOSPITAL - NIGHT
163 163
The Killer's Jeep arrives, screeches to a stop.
The Killer gets out and runs to the HOSPITAL entrance.
INT. HOSPITAL - PRIVATE ROOM - NIGHT
164 164
In this small room, with paint peeling on the walls, a
grim man, MARCUS, in his 30's, sits with his hands
clenched, at the BEDSIDE of MAGDALA, 34 - 40, who sleeps,
hooked to IVs and MONITORS.
The Killer comes to the doorway. Marcus stands, watching
as The Killer goes to stand beside Magdala.
BANDAGED Magdala is unconscious, with a TUBE up her nose.
THE KILLER
(under his breath)
No... no...
MARCUS
(fin gers to his lips,
whispering)
Don't let her hear your voice. She
needs sleep.
(quietly)
They're monitoring for internal
bleeding.
(more)
CONTINUED
39.
MARCUS (CONT.)
She just had a second transfusion,
and she's on heavy pain meds.
Marcus leads The Killer from the room.
INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - NIGHT
165 165
Marcus huddles with The Killer, speaking in hushed tones.
MARCUS
There were two of them.
She can describe them. It's not
like they were disguising
themselves. One.... was a woman.
THE KILLER
Take your time.
MARCUS
This wasn't a robbery. She told
me that... she... managed to...
THE KILLER
Marcus, breathe.
MARCUS
(emotional)
"There are worse things than what
they did to me," she kept telling
me. Can yo u imagine? Worse
things. She told me that during
the... assault... she stabbed the
man. Ran through a fucking plate
glass window and hid in the
jungle.
(pause)
They left in a green car, with a
light on top. Like a fucking
taxi, if you can believe it?
Marcus is distraught, wipes his hand across his face.
MARCUS
Look, she knows there are things
she can and cannot say, if anyone
comes asking. All th is time,
you've been very kind to my
sister, she loves you. I've
learned not to pry. This,
though...
THE KILLER
Marcus...
CONTINUED
40.
MARCUS
They came for you. And they
weren't about to leave a witness.
THE KILLER
Marcus, listen very carefully...
Marcus looks to The Killer, meets his gaze.
THE KILLER (CONT'D)
...you know me... and I promise --
I swear to you -- nothing like
this will ever be allowed to
happen again.
CUT TO:
INT. HOSPITAL - PRIVATE ROOM - NIGHT
166 166
Magdala's still sleeping, monitors quietly BEEPING.
The Killer is now in the vigil chair Marcus previously
occupied. A FEMALE DOCTOR comes to the doorway.
FEMALE DOCTOR
She is well enough to travel.
Later today, she'll be transported
to the private hospital in Punta
Cana, as arranged.
The Killer stands. He takes out a CASH, rips bills off
and offers them, waiting for Female Doctor to take the
mon ey. Female Doctor merely walks away. The Killer puts
the money back in his pocket, turns... seeing...
Magdala's awake. He goes to her. Magdala holds out her
hand, reaching to him, trying to sit up.
The Killer must gently keep her from rising; calming her.
THE KILLER
No... you mustn't try to...
MAGDALA
Are you... are you alright? Let
me look at you. I... I was so
afraid.
Her voice is weak, but she 's finding it.
MAGDALA
Afraid I might say something.
But I didn't.
(pause)
No matter what they said.
(more)
CONTINUED
41.
MAGDALA (CONT.)
No matter what he did. I didn't
tell them anything. Not about
you.
The Killer's features tighten at this.
MAGDALA
Nothing. You'd've been proud. I
was strong.
THE KILLER
You need to rest.
Magdala breathes in sharply as she lays back, pained.
Then, as if realizing the extent of her injuries, she
slowly raises a hand towards her battered features.
MAGDALA
How... how bad is it...?
The Killer gently inte rcepts her hand and lowers it while
he shakes his head ever so slightly.
MAGDALA
I'll see soon enough, eh?
Her eyelids grow heavy as she's fading.
MAGDALA
I have to tell you...
Tears well up and roll down her bruised cheek.
MAGDALA
There was a moment... I said to
myself, if I didn't live through
this; if I didn't survive... I'd
never see you again. I couldn't
bear that.
(quietly, eyes closing)
So, I di d. Somehow I did it.
Magdala eases back into unconsciousness. The Killer
lowers his head, gripping Magdala's hand more tightly.
EXT. ESTATE HOUSE, REAR GROUNDS - NIGHT
167 167
With his house behind and a SHOVEL over his shoulder, The
Killer, in T-SHIRT and TRACK SUIT PANTS, marches across
his property, heading toward JUNGLE.
42.
INT. KILLER'S ESTATE - JUNGLE - NIGHT - LATER
168 168
The Killer's digging near jungle's edge, uncovering a
square of shallowly buried PLYWOOD, which he works the
shovel at the edge of... prying it loose.
He tosses the shovel. He gets on his knees to get a good
grip... flips the wood aside. Beneath is a layer of
waxed, water-proofed CANVAS. The Killer pulls this back -
- revealing a small SAFE embedded in poured CONCRETE.
The Killer presses his HAND to the THUMB-PRINT ID PAD.
He twists the HANDLE, opening the safe.
INSIDE: are CREDIT CARDS, PASSPORTS and two GLOCK
HANDGUNS (each sealed in ZIP-LOCK BAGS), along with a few
other necessities. The Killer takes one Glock.
He tears the plastic, examines the gun, sets it aside.
He bends forward to take other items.
CUT TO:
INT. ESTATE HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - MORNING
169 169
The Killer enters, crossing. The place is work-in-
progress, but UNIFORMED HOUSEKEEPERS work; SCRUBBING the
FLOOR and replacing ITEMS on SHELVES. The Killer passes
TWO other HOUSEKEEPERS carrying out a rolled-up RUG.
INT. ESTATE HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - MORNING
170 170
The Killer enters the bedroom, which is still much as he
found it, though a UNIFORMED HOUSEKEEPER steam-CLEANS the
CURTAINS. The Killer takes a JACKET from the bed and a
(burner) SMART PHONE. He stows the GLOCK in his packed
TRAVEL BAG, which he ZIPS and shoulders.
INT. ESTATE HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - MORNING
171 171
The Killer crosses back thru the house, tying the jacket
around his waist. He exits towards his parked JEEP.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT. CARIBBEAN AIRPORT - ARRIVALS - DAY
172 172
Early-afternoon-busy at the MAIN TERMINAL.
The Killer's Jeep comes to cruise by ARRIVALS.
INT/EXT. JEEP - CARIBBEAN AIRPORT - ARRIVALS - DAY
173 173
OUT THE WINDSHIELD: passing the various AIRLINES'
passenger pick-ups...
CONTINUED
43.
The Killer eyes the TAXI ZONE ahead. TAXIS await, some
gathering up fares. One after the other; every TAXI he
passes is ORANGE with official YELLOW TRIANGLE EMBLEMS.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT. CARIBBEAN CITY - CITY STREETS - DAY
174 174
The Killer's Jeep moves thru heavy, mid-city TRAFFIC.
INT/EXT. JEEP - CARIBBEAN CITY - CITY STREETS - DAY
175 175
The Killer remains vigilant, looking all around as he
drives. He stops for a RED LIGHT. The CROSS TRAFFIC
ahead tells a familiar tale... ORANGE TAXI here... ORANGE
TAXI there... ORANGE TAXIS everywhere.
CUT TO:
EXT. CARIBBEAN CITY - CENTRAL PARK - AFTERNOON
176 176
The Killer walks amongst the CROWDS on the bustling
DOWNTOWN STREETS, crossing to a large PARK.
EXT. CARIBBEAN CITY - CENTRAL PARK - AFTERNOON
177 177
The Killer walks along a thoroughfare, where MANY ORANGE
TAXIS are parked in a line. When a YELLOW TAXI passes in
the street, The Killer turns to watch it pass.
The Killer crosses the park, heading for a central, domed
BANDSTAND, passing FOOD CART VENDORS, BLUE and WHITE
COLLAR WORKERS on break, and wandering TOURISTS.
At the bandstand, The Killer climbs the stairs.
From this higher vantage point, he looks to where...
A LINE of TAXIS waits on a side street.
Something catches his ear and he looks up.
A small, PRIVATE JET rumbles by in the sky.
CUT TO:
OMITTED
178 178
INT/EXT. SMALL CARIBBEAN AIRPORT - ROADWAY - RUNWAY - DAY 179
179
A medium-sized PUDDLE-JUMPER takes off from a RUNWAY,
soaring upwards as... The Killer's Jeep travels a
parallel ROADWAY on the other side of a CHAINLINK FENCE.
44.
INT/EXT. SMALL AIRPORT - TERMINAL - DAY
180 180
The Killer drives up to a relatively modest TERMINAL
BUILDING. The Killer IDLES and...
FROM THE JEEP:
...he looks across to the right hand side of the road,
where THREE TAXIS wait... each of them ORANGE.
The Killer stares, considering for a protracted moment.
He finally puts the car in gear and DRIVES OFF.
CUT TO:
OMITTED
181 181
INT/EXT. CARIBBEAN SEASIDE ROADWAY - DAY
182 182
The Killer's Jeep travels a ROADWAY along the CARIBBEAN
SEA, he's skirting the edge of a colorful but rough-
around-the-edges, seaside CITY.
EXT. TREE LINED ROAD - CARIBBEAN SEASIDE AIRPORT - DAY
183 183
Driving a tree-lined ROAD, The Killer's Jeep speeds
along, then brakes... STOPS.
The Killer leans forward. He stops, looking...
Ahead, at the tiny, seaside AIRPORT TERMINAL BUILDING,
with a single RUNWAY beyond, there are TWO crappy,
exhaust-spewing GREEN TAXIS parked, waiting, available.
Yes, GREEN, with "BESTTIME TAXI" and a PHONE NUMBER
stenciled on their doors.
CUT TO:
EXT. BESTTIME TAXI COMPANY - NIGHT
184 184
In a rough section of town, we find the dilapidated
"BESTTIME TAXI" OFFICE, with attached (closed) GARAGE and
GREEN TAXIS parked in front. Late night streets are
deserted, except...
The Killer approaches from up the block.
He wears a KNIT CAP, glances around as he nears the
office. He tries the DOOR. It's locked. He KNOCKS.
After a moment, SOMEONE pulls aside the BLINDS to look
out the WINDOW by the door.
CONTINUED
45.
Seems they're waving The Killer off, but The Killer makes
prayer hands, holds up a finger to show it will only take
a moment. BLINDS SHUT.
As The Killer turns to face the door, he takes a HANDGUN
from his pants pocket and pulls his cap -- oh, it's a SKI
MASK -- down over his face. The moment the door opens...
The Killer's forcing his way in. Shuts the door behind.
CUT TO:
INT. BESTTIME TAXI COMPANY - NIGHT
185 185
An unfortunate, male TAXI DISPATCHER lies on the floor,
on his side, BLINDFOLDED by a BANDANA, with his hands
(behind him) and ankles BOUND by ZIP-TIES.
Meanwhile, The gloved Killer, with ski mask pushed up to
his forehead, is on a STOOL behind the DISPATCH DESK,
sweating in the heat, typing on an old PC COMPUTER.
11:40AM 8/13
PICKUP: AEROPUERTO -
DROPOFF: AEROPUERTO - RTRI P
04:40 PM
The Killer's eyes devour.
CLOSE ON:
DRIVER: RODRIGUEZ, L.
ID344 _
IN THE OFFICE:
The Killer stands, reaches around to PULL the COMPUTER's
POWER CORD. SCREEN goes BLANK.
He looks to ragged 3-RING BINDERS on a SHELF...
takes down "CONDUCTORES."
Swiping thru the dog-eared PAGES of the binder...
The Killer finds a filled-out APPLICATION which h as a
COPY of the DRIVER'S LICENSE of "LEO RODRIGUEZ" stapled
to it. The license features a...
...PHOTO of young, ruggedly handsome LEO RODRIGUEZ.
IN THE OFFICE:
The Killer tears out this page, shuts the binder, puts it
back on the shelf where he found it.
CONTINUED
46.
He steps over the bound Dispatcher, about to leave... but
stops.
Remembering, The Killer heads -- stepping back over the
Dispatcher -- behind the counter to begin searching.
He opens and then tosses a CIGAR BOX upon finding only
RECEIPTS inside it. He starts yanking open DRAWERS...
...discovers the one under the computer is a CASH DRAWER.
Slim pickings, but The Killer grabs all the MONEY.
CUT TO:
INT . CARIBBEAN CITY - FEDEX OFFICE - MORNING
186 186
At the COUNTER, The Killer, in his typical outfit, takes
one FedEx OVERNIGHT ENVELOPE and a SHIPPING LABEL.
He flips the envelope, peels the plastic STRIP to seal
the empty envelope.
INT. CARIBBEAN CITY - FEDEX OFFICE - MORNING
187 187
He's using a chained PEN to fill out the label:
CLOSE ON: The Killer writing "DOLORES R., SUITE 400."
CLOSE ON: The Killer writing in "230 CARONDELET ST."
CLOSE ON: The Killer CHECKING the BOX beside -- CIRCLING
also and underlining -- the words "SIGNATURE REQUIRED."
INT. CARIBBEAN CITY - FEDEX OFFICE - DAY
188 188
A FEMALE CLERK addresses The Killer, envelope held.
FEDEX CLERK
Okay. For that rate: this will be
delivered two days from now,
before end of business, Mr.
Madison. Thank you.
INSERT: FEMALE CLERK'S HAND picks up a CREDIT CARD from
the counter, holds it up to examine: "OSCAR MADISON."
She tears out and hands over the LABEL COPY to him.
INT/EXT. JEEP - BESTTIME TAXI COMPANY - MORNING
189 189
The Killer sits parked, watching.
CONTINUED
47.
THRU THE WINDSHIELD:
BESTTIME TAXI company, about halfway up the block, is
much the same as when we saw it last night, except the
GARAGE is wide open and TWO MECHANICS stand jawing.
A FEMALE DRIVER, carrying a CLIPBOARD, exits the office
and climbs into one of THREE GREEN TAXIS parked out
front. She starts it, DRIVES away.
IN THE JEEP:
The Killer just keeps watching.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT. JEEP - BESTTIME TAXI COMPANY - DAY
190 190
Garage is still open, with a GREEN TAXI sticking halfway
out. There are FOUR GREEN TAXIS lined up in front.
From up the block, LEO RODRIQUEZ, hair longer than in his
driver's license photo, walks, carrying a "vintage"
yellow Sony BOOMBOX/RADIO.
IN THE JEEP:
The Killer sees: Leo go into the office.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I blame you, "Leo..." for having
to bring work home.
The Killer waits, unblinking.
POV:
It takes a long moment, but Leo eventually emerges,
carrying a CLIPBOARD along with his boombox. He goes to
get behind the wheel of the first, green taxi.
IN THE JEEP:
The Killer puts on HAT and SUNGLASSES, starts his engine.
He watches as Leo's taxi sets in motion.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Stick to your plan.
The taxi passes to The Killer's left.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Anticipate; don't improvise.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
48.
The Killer puts his Jeep in gear to follow.
CUT TO:
OMITTED
191 191
OMITTED
192 192
EXT. TAXI STAND - AFTERNOON
193 193
Across from a HOTEL where LOCALS and TOURISTS seem to be
happily coexisting, Leo pulls forward slowly in a line of
cabs behind TWO waiting ORANGE TAXIS.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Trust no one. Never yield an
advantage. Fight only the battle
you're paid to fight.
The Killer arrives in a TAXI, across a small square.
The Killer gets out, tips his driver, then walks...
...crossing thru slow moving TRAFFIC.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Forbid empathy.
He's walking to THE TAXI STAND, where Leo's out of his
cab and leaning on it while lighting a CIGARETTE.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Empathy is weakness. Weakness is
vulnerability.
The Killer and Leo interact. Leo looks; noting he's
third in line, but fine -- he gets in while The Killer
climbs in back. Leo's taxi pulls into TRAFFIC.
CUT TO:
EXT. CARIBBEAN ROADWAY - CITY OUTSKIRT S - AFTERNOON
194 194
Leo's taxi heads out of town... merging onto sparsely
trafficked ROAD which bisects the portside traffic.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Each and every step of the way,
ask yourself, what's in it for me?
OMITTED
195 195
49.
INT. LEO'S TAXI (MOVING) - AFTERNOON
196 196
MUSIC plays from the BOOMBOX up front. The Killer,
seated in the middle of the rear seat, leans forward to
rap a knuckle on the open, yellowed SECURITY PARTITION.
Leo, driving, doesn't notice.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
This is what it takes...
The Killer takes out his silenced GLOCK -- uses it to TAP
on the partition, holds it there. This Leo hears,
turning the MUSIC DOWN while glancing over his shoulder.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
...what you must commit yourself
to, if you want to succeed.
Seeing the gun, Leo faces front; looking in the REARVIEW
MIRROR. The Killer gestures to look forward.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Simple.
OMITTED
197 197
OMITTED
198 198
INT. LEO'S TAXI (JUNGLE / ELEVADO -- MOVING) - AFTERNOON
199 199
The BOOMBOX still quietly plays MUSIC while a nervous Leo
navigates light traffic at the behest of The Killer.
LEO
Awwww shit man... I... I just came
on. Small change is all I got.
Leo's looking up to address the KILLER'S SUNGLASS-hidden
EYES in the REARVIEW MIRROR.
LEO
I'm gonna show you... okay?
Careful to be telegraphing, Leo digs a WALLET from his
jeans. He makes a show of holding it open with h is free
hand and offering; only SMALL BILLS inside.
LEO
...take it, man.
The Killer reaches thru to take the wallet.
CONTINUED
50.
LEO
There's a condom in there too.
What's mine is yours. Leave the
wallet if you're feeling generous.
What else...? Want my radio?
The Killer pockets the wallet, takes off his sunglasses.
THE KILLER
Tell me about your big fare, Leo,
three days ago.
IN THE REARVIEW: Leo's questioning eyes.
LEO
What? Three days? I --
The Killer CHAMBERS a ROUND, sits forward and presses the
gun against the back of Le o's skull. Leo shuts one eye,
keeping the other on the roadway.
LEO
Wait, wait, wait... don't, okay.
Wait. I-I tell you. The freak
and the lady, right? From the
little airport. That's who?
The Killer lowers his gun, sits back.
Leo, sweating, opens his eye, gathers himself.
LEO
I got them like, noon. I
remember, it was right before
lunch.
EXT. MID-JUNGLE - AFTERNOON
199A 199A
Leo's taxi keeps moving along in the gloom.
LEO
(from TAXI)
I'd been waiting around and there
was nothing. Slow day. Slow
week. I was about to split, when
one of those little jets came in.
So, I stay.
INT. LEO'S TAXI (IN JUNGLE -- MOVING) - AFTERNOON
199B 199B
LEO
And they come... two crazy-looking
güero. The lady, dressed business
woman style; in a suit... she
seemed alright.
(more)
CONTINUED
51.
LEO (CONT.)
But the guy with her -- should've
kept him on a chain. He was a
scary motherfucker.
The Killer sets his gun down on the seat beside him.
THE KILLER
Walk me through your time with
them, to the best of your
recollection.
LEO
No problem. I drove them, is all.
They were sight-seeing, I thought,
at first. Because they hadn't
given me an address. We're
supposed to get an address.
Roundtrip, was what th ey said.
Then, they told me: north on DR-1.
Then deep into the jungle, like...
forever.
With a sigh, Leo white knuckles the wheel, pondering.
LEO
They showed me on Google, and I
drove them. They wouldn't take
"no" for an answer. We got to a
gate, private property, and I was
told to wait.
He's staring out thru the windshield, troubled.
LEO
She and him were gone an hour,
maybe. Maybe more, I guess.
Alright?
EXT. MID-JUNGLE -- AFTERNOON
199C 199C
Further still, diffuse light passes over the vehicle.
Ahead, a massive BRIDGE spans above.
LEO
(from TAXI)
All I know is I was starving,
and... and I didn't care anymore
how much the meter was ticking. I
was going to leave them. I'm not
allowed to, but I almost did.
52.
INT. LEO'S TAXI (JUNGLE -- MOVING / ELEVADO ) - AFTERNOON 199D
199D
The merest frown from The Killer as he listens, looking
to watch the foliage passing outside.
LEO
They came back, the guy's leg was
bloody. They wanted me to take
them back to airport, so I did.
(to REARVIEW)
That was the end of it.
Leo glances to his CIGARETTE PACK, grabs them up.
LEO
(of CIGARETTES)
Mind if I...? Want one?
He shakes out a cigarette, pushes the CAR LIGHTER in.
LEO
Ask me anything. Any thing. I
don't know who they are. Don't
want to know. Don't want to know
who you are either, con todo
respeto.
The lighter POPS. Leo uses it, inhales deeply, exhales.
Leo slows the taxi to a STOP.
LEO
If they did you wrong somehow, I'm
sorry. I truly am. But I've got
nothing to do with anything,
except I happened to be first in
line. Because I didn't go to
lunch.
(glances back)
So, how about... I get out and I
leave the keys?
He turns the engine off, then removes the KEYS from the
ignition and throws them up on the dashboard.
LEO
I'll walk back to town, easy. You
take it all, man. It's yours.
How's that -- ?
In one motion, The Killer raises his gun -- FIRES...
53.
EXT. MID-JUNGLE / UNDER ELEVADO - AFTERNOON
200 200
The taxi's front windows are instantaneously covered in
BLOOD, BRAIN and SKULL FRAGMENTS. Gun smoke wafts. The
back door opens. The Killer steps out, pocketing the gun
while using a HANDKERCHIEF to wipe the inner door handle.
He elbows the door shut, wipes the outer handle. He goes
to open the front passenger door. We HEAR the MUSIC shut
OFF. The Killer takes the BOOMBOX, leaves that door
op en, walks, with the boombox under his arm, as we...
PAN to see The Killer's Jeep, half a block away.
CUT TO:
INT. CARIBBEAN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - DEPARTURES - DAY
201 201
The Killer enters the busy AIRPORT, TRAVEL BAG in hand.
INT. CARIBBEAN INTL. AIRPORT - TICKET COUNTER - SUNSET
202 202
INSERT : A TICKET PRINTER spits out an airline TICKET for
"HOWARD CUNNINGHAM," then a FEMALE HAND takes the ticket.
UNITED TICKET AGENT
And you're all set, Mr.
Cunningham. Have a pleasant trip.
INT. PLANE - NIGHT
203 203
In the darkened cabin, far back in COACH as always, The
Killer is seated in a window seat, staring into the void
of dead-of-night nothingness out the window.
EXT. MID-SOUTHERN U.S. AIRPORT - NIGHT
204 204
Amongst other bleary-eyed PASSENGERS exiting, The Killer,
with his TRAVEL BAG strapped across his back, strides
with purpose. He reaches a median, hails a TAXI...
CUT TO:
EXT. MID-SOUTHERN CITY - TRUCK RENTAL LOT - PRE-DAWN
205 205
That TAXICAB stops. The Killer gets out.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
New Orleans. Lovely, humid New
Orleans. A thousand restaurants.
One menu.
He walks through the rental yard, as the taxicab goes.
CONTINUED
54.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I do feel a certain nostalgia for
the place. Where good ol'
Professor Hodges convinced me to
quit studying the law and start
skirting it.
The Killer opens a white RENTAL VAN (with side door) and
speeds off.
OMITTED
206 206
OMITTED
207 207
EXT. RENTAL VAN - MID-S. CITY STORAGE FACILITY - DAWN
208 208
The Killer arrives at an unmanned SECURITY GATE. He
leans out to poke (using a NO-TOUCH KEYCHAIN TOOL) the
buttons on a mounted KEYPAD, which BEEPS. GATE OPENS.
EXT. RENTAL VAN - STORAGE FACILITY - DAWN
209 209
The Killer drives past ROW after ROW of STORAGE UNITS.
INT/EXT. RENTAL VAN - STORAGE FACILITY - DAWN
210 210
The Killer parks his rental van in front of a STORAGE
UNIT, gets out. This unit is sizable.
The Killer thumbs the COMBINATION on a PADLOCK, unlocks
it, starts on a SECOND LOCK.
INT. STORAGE UNIT - DAWN
211 211
The Killer enters, takes out his PHONE and turns on its
FLASHLIGHT. He shuts the door behind, so the flashlight
is the only light. At INDUSTRIAL SHELVES against one
wall, he tries an LED LANTERN, finds it dead.
Propping his phone on the shelf as a work light, The
Killer twists the bottom off the lantern, takes out four
D BATTERIES. He swaps these for fresh batteries, screws
the bottom on. He LI GHTS the lantern.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
There are more than 50 thousand
storage facilities in the U.S.
I have units in 6.
Holding the lantern by its handle, he walks to the center
of this mostly empty space the size of a small garage.
SHELVES along two walls hold CLEANING SUPPLIES and
various, sizable PLASTIC TUBS. There are many GARDEN
IMPLEMENTS and TOOLS hanging on a mounted RACK.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
55.
In one corner, sit STEEL DRUMS beside a WHEELBARROW.
Everything is neatly kept and arranged.
INT. STORAGE UNIT - DAWN
212 212
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I like to imagine, once I'm gone
and the automatic payments have
dried up, the episode of "Storage
Wars" where they cut the lock on
one of mine and get a look inside.
The Killer dials a COMBINATION on a medium sized,
portable DOCUMENT SAFE. Opens it, revealing a
GLOCK HANDGUN, AMMO and CASH inside.
He takes the Glock and money.
INT. STORAGE UNIT - DAWN
213 213
At one SHELF, The Killer grabs some ZIP-TIES from a
CONTAINER, pockets them. He takes down a BOX containing
several SETS of LICENSE PLATES, selects a PAIR, puts them
under his arm. On the next shelf, he finds large DECALS
of the UNIVERSAL SYMBOLS for 'CORROSIVE,' 'HAZARDOUS
MATERIALS' and 'MEDICAL WASTE.' He selects one with the
'RECYCLING' SYMBOL beside "FOR SHREDDING."
EXT. STORAGE UNIT - MORN ING
214 214
The Killer exits his unit, shuts the door.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT. RENTAL VAN - HOME DEPOT - LATER MORNING
215 215
TWO YOUNG DAY LABORERS hustle across the PARKING LOT from
a HARDWARE SUPER-STORE, each with a grip on one handle of
the quite large (and seemingly weighty), grey
SHREDDER/RECYCLING BIN they're WHEELING behind them.
Arriving at the open rear of the white van where The
Killer waits, Laborer One and Laborer Two stop, setting
the SHREDDER BIN straight. Laborer One happily accepts
CASH The Killer hands over while Two throws open the
bin's hinged lid... revealing OTHER PURCHASED ITEMS...
INT/EXT. RENTAL VAN - HOME DEPOT - MORNING
216 216
The Killer and Laborer One and Two load those OTHER ITEMS
into the back of the van: a medium-sized, plastic COOLER;
a somewhat unwieldy BOX containing a cordless FRAMING
GUN; a big, heavy BUCKET of QUIKRETE.
CUT TO:
56.
INT/EXT. RENTAL VAN - HODGES' OFFICE BLDG - MORNING
217 217
Amongst smaller, less impressive structures at DOWNTOWN's
outskirts, The Killer's van is parked on a corner.
IN THE VAN:
The Killer, in BASEBALL CAP, is behind the wheel,
observing the world.
THE KILLER'S POV:
WORKERS are coming and going, mostly coming, at a catty
corner, dark but plain, post-war OFFICE BUILDING.
IN THE VAN:
The Killer takes a BANANA from a 7-11 BAG on the
passenger seat, peels the ban ana entirely, puts the peel
back in the bag.
POV:
A city BUS stops at a BUS STOP across the street from the
office building and begins letting off RIDERS.
IN THE VAN:
The Killer, chewing the last of the banana, keeps looking
while he reaches to get a large BOTTLE of vanilla ENSURE
from the bag. He twists the BOTTLE open, gulps Ensure.
POV:
Amongst the dispersing RIDERS is a bespectacled, middle-
aged wo man, DOLORES, carrying her PURSE and a COMPUTER
BAG. She looks both ways, venturing into the crosswalk.
IN THE VAN:
The Killer lowers the bottle, observing Dolores.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Hello, Dolores. Miss me?
POV:
Dolores addresses a SECURITY CAMERA somewhere inside the
entry doors, it seems, pantomiming 'HELLO.'
THE KILLER (V.O.)
A CCTV and a 100-dollar, electric,
dead-latch lock.
(more)
(more)
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
57.
THE KILLER (V.O.) (CONT.)
Crappy 1980's solutions to 21st
Century problems.
Dolores is BUZZED in... disappears into the building.
IN THE VAN:
The Killer slumps, settling in, sips Ensure.
CUT TO:
EXT. MID-SOUTHERN CITY - HODGES' BLDG - AFTERNOON
218 218
Mid-day now. TRAFFIC is heavier. More PEDESTRIANS trek
the sidewalks. The white van is still parked.
INT/EXT. RENTAL VAN -HODGES' OFFICE BLDG- AFTERNOON
219 219
INSIDE THE VAN:
The Killer remains, now with an EARPOD in one ear, trying
to stay focused.
He leans slightly to check his right SIDE MIRROR.
He tilts his head, eyeballing his left SIDE MIRROR.
POV IN VAN SIDE MIRROR:
A FEDEX DELIVERY TRUCK is heading this direction.
INSIDE THE VAN:
The Killer removes his ear pod, gets out.
EXT. MID-SOUTHERN CITY - HODGES BLDG -STREET - AFTERNOON
220 220
The Killer goes to open the rear of the van as the FedEx
truck passes. The Killer grabs the grey bin (SHREDDING
stickered) by its handles, pulling it out.
ACROSS THE INTERSECTION:
The FedEx truck parks in the LOADING ZONE in front of the
dark but plain, post-war building. Its BLINKERS FLASH.
EXT. HODGES' OFFICE BLDG - AFTERNOON
221 221
The Killer starts across the intersection, wheeling his
shredder bin. He picks up the pace, while ahead...
CONTINUED
58.
A FedEx DELIVERY MAN, carrying ENVELOPES, stops at the
entrance where Dolores arrived. He's looking up and in
at the unseen SECURITY CAMERA, nodding. Door BUZZES. As
he pulls the door open and enters, he hears a shrill,
SHARP WHISTLE and "Hold the door."
The Killer's hustling, giving a wave.
Delivery Man HOLDS THE DOOR as The Killer and his
somewhat unwieldy bin arrive.
CUT TO:
INT. OFFICE BLDG - ELEVATOR - AFTERNOON
222 222
ELEVATOR's in motion. The Killer stands behind his bin.
Delivery Man's occupied scanning envelope BAR CODES into
his FedEx TRACKER.
The LIT button for "4" goes OUT. DING.
INT. OFFICE BUILDING -ELEVATOR- 4TH FLOOR- AFTERNOON
223 223
Elevator arrives, DOORS OPENING. The Killer guides his
shredder bin out and maneuvers to park it out of the way.
Delivery Man meanwhile is headed towards the end of the
hall, passing OFFICES.
The Killer occupies himself by nonchalantly taking out
GLOVES and slipping them on, watches over his shoulder...
Delivery Man arrives at the last OFFICE DOOR. The door
has in-laid, full-length SECURITY GLASS . "EDWARD HODGES,
INTERNATIONAL TRADE ATTORNEY" is PAINTED on the glass,
"BY APPOINTMENT ONLY." Delivery Man presses a DOORBELL,
looking in. He gets BUZZED in.
IN THE 4TH FLOOR HALL:
The Killer opens the bin and takes out a flat, plastic
TOOL CASE. He approaches the office door as it SHUTS.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
(in V.O. whisper)
1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7...
The Killer cautiously leans to look.
THR U THE GLASS: Delivery Man greets Dolores as she rises
from her DESK to one side of the wood paneled OUTER
OFFICE. Dolores accepts a FEDEX ENVELOPE. Delivery Man
has her sign the SCREEN of his TRACKER.
CONTINUED
59.
The Killer retreats a few steps, leans against the wall,
taking out his PHONE. He pretends to be engrossed in it.
Delivery Man exits the office, walks back to the
elevators, not noticing The Killer, who pockets his phone
as the DOOR is SWINGING shut but...
The Killer's already stepping up to...
...JAM his toe in at the last possible second.
INT. HODGES' OUTER OFFICE - AFTERNOON
224 224
Dolores is tearing the ENVELOPE open and looking confused
upon finding it empty. The Killer enters, shutting the
door behind. He puts down his case, takes out his GUN.
THE KILLER
Dolores.
Dolores turns to see him. Horrified.
The Killer retrieves his tool case and steps forward.
He motions with the Glock that Dolores should move from
behind her desk. She does so.
Stepping behind the desk himself, The Killer places his
case down flat. He takes Dolores' PHONE, puts it in his
poc ket. He pushes her LAPTOP shut, places it on top of
his case and picks both up. He motions for Dolores to
continue towards a large, closed WOODEN DOOR.
Dolores acquiesces, going to stand before it.
The Killer glances down to her work station, steps to...
...depress a SWITCH beneath the desk with his foot.
INT. HODGES' INNER OFFICE - AFTERNOON
225 225
A BUZZ is HEARD; a LOCK UNLATCHES. The wooden door is
pushed inwards as a contrite Dolores enters.
DOLORES
I'm... I'm sorry, sir...
In this large, also wood-paneled OFFICE, somewhat rough-
around-the-edges, 50-something EDWARD HODGES looks up in
annoyance from his LAPTOP at his big DESK.
HODGES
What is it, Dolores?
He sees The Killer following Dolores in, stunned.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
60.
HODGES
Good God.
The Killer aims at Hodges (whose voice we should
recognize as the VOICE OVER THE PHONE The Killer spoke
with earlier) and kicks the DOOR SHUT behind.
HODGES
What could you possibly be
thinking, coming here?
The Killer drops the tool case and Dolores' laptop on a
COUCH, gently places a hand on Dolores, guiding her.
HODGES
This is very unlike you, my
friend. Care to explain yourself?
Be cause I cannot...
The Killer brings fearful Dolores to Hodges, takes out
TWO ZIP-TIES, hands them to her. He points to Hodges'
hand resting on the arm of his wheeled DESK CHAIR.
HODGES
...Conceive of anything I have to
offer that could remotely be worth
the exposure on your part.
(of Dolores' hesitation)
Go ahead, dear; whatever he says.
Dolores reluctantly begins ZIP-TYING her boss's wrists to
the cha ir arms. Hodges tries to remain calm.
HODGES
(to The Killer)
Insanity. There's no other word
for this. Insanity. Surely you
can't be angry with me.
DOLORES
(to Hodges)
I'm so sorry. I opened the outer
door for FedEx...
HODGES
Dolores, I'm the one who's sorry.
I sincerely apologize.
The Killer yanks one tie to make it tighter, then brings
Dolores as he crosses. He opens a DOOR leading to a
sizable EX ECUTIVE WASHROOM, replete with SHOWER.
CONTINUED
61.
HODGES
(to The Killer)
There's clearly been some sort of
misunderstanding. I'd like to ask
you to take a breath. Think for a
minute.
INT. HODGES' BATHROOM - AFTERNOON
226 226
The Killer leads Dolores to the bathroom SINK.
HODGES (O.S.)
(calling after)
This will be resolved in a moment,
Dolores, I promise you. Once he
realizes the folly of his actions.
Dolores watches, tears welling, as The Killer proceeds to
zip-tie her wrist to the METAL TOWELBAR mounted, waist-
high, in front of the sink.
INT. HODGES' INNER OFFICE - AFTERNOON
227 227
The Killer reenters, shuts the bathroom door.
Now that they're alone in Hodges' office, The Killer and
Hodges turn their undivided attention to each other.
HODGES
You went home. How could you
have, realizing my hands would
be... ?
(glances down, flustered)
You had to have known -- you
must've -- that I'd have no say in
the matter going forward and
still, you went home.
THE KILLER
Who were they?
Hodges lo oks incredulous.
HODGES
Who were they? First of all: who
cares? I barely glanced at the
invoice. Which, if I may say, is
very much beside the point. The
consequences, when someone's wide
of the mark, are automatic.
However regrettable, they are an
obligation to client and calling.
CONTINUED
62.
At the couch, The Killer sits, takes up the molded
plastic tool case, which he opens.
HODGES
I was forced to be make amends by
a very angry, very powerful man --
never in my wildest imagination
did I think you'd actually go
home... not in a million years.
The Killer takes out his NAIL GUN and BATTERY PACK. He
slaps the battery into the gun's hilt. Hodges swallows,
but he's not the type to let anyon e see him sweat.
Still seated, The Killer closes Hodges' laptop, puts
Dolores' laptop on top, aligns the nail gun against where
the hard drives reside, and presses in quick succession --
PSST-THUNK PSST-THUNK PSST-THUNK -- so THREE long NAILS
impale them together.
HODGES
Why would you -- ? That's just...
childish. The good news is, it's
not too late. Even now, this
entire debacle can be salvaged.
But only if you disappear. Which
is what I assumed you'd've already
done.
The Killer stands and crosses, bringing the nail gun.
HODGES
You've got more money than you can
ever spend. Thanks in no small
part to me, so, why aren't you
already on the other side of the
globe, under any number of
aliases, spending it?
The Killer stands before Hodges' desk.
HODGES
You don't believe me; don't feel
you can trust me. Fine. I've
brought that on myself. But after
all these years -- having built
this from the ground up -- I
thought we had a relationship.
He swaps the nail gun to his left hand.
CONTINUED
63.
THE KILLER
I know you have back-up records
here, Eddie, on me, everyone; the
whole shebang...
The Killer starts around the desk.
THE KILLER
...because you'd never put it on
the cloud, any more than you'd
trust it outside these four walls.
HODGES
There's nothing like that.
Everything was on those two
laptops. And now... it's not.
The Killer stands over the lawyer, his unwavering gaze
fixed upon Hodges .
HODGES
Who do you think you're trying to
intimidate? It wouldn't make any
sense for you to pull that
trigger. There's no upside.
Okay, despite his resolute defiance, Hodges is sweating.
HODGES
The only logical choice for you is
to turn around, right now, and
walk out that door. Embrace your
next life. I wish you well.
The Killer lowers the gun and brings the nail gun up
against Hodges' chest -- P SST-THUNK PSST-THUNK PSST-THUNK
-- fires THREE nails. Hodges sucks in a long GASP.
Hodges' eyes go wide with terror as he rears up in the
chair and his tied hands claw air. Pinning his shirt to
his chest are the THREE tiny HEADS of the NAILS sunken
deeply in nearly bloodless puncture wounds.
Hodges WHEEZES, struggling to breathe, as The emotionless
Killer places the nail gun down on the desk.
THE KILLER
You'll drown, slowly... and I'll
dispose of you...
The Killer picks up Hodges phone.
CONTINUED
64.
THE KILLER
...so while a few fragments of
your side hustle may be left to
puzzle over...
Hodges' bulging eyes watch as The Killer, turning the
PHONE ON, holds the phone up for Hodges to see...
THE KILLER
...since you'll have completely
vanished, the trail ends where it
began...
CLOSE-UP:
ON THE PHONE: The Killer's finger brings up the
"Emergency Call" window and KEYPAD.
THE KILLER
...unless:
CLOSE-UP:
ON TH E PHONE: The Killer keys in "911."
IN HODGES' OFFICE
The Killer places the phone at the edge of the desk, near
Hodges, with "911" on the bright screen ready and waiting
-- if only someone would press the GREEN BUTTON to dial.
Hodges pitches back and forth, sucking air as best he
can. His mouth works horribly, wordlessly.
The Killer takes a step back, raising his arms and
turning his head; makes a sho w of looking around.
THE KILLER
I need the information Edward, and
you're running out of time.
Hodges grunts and WHEEZES, his eyes locked on "911" --
bobbing his head in desperation at the phone.
The Killer, seeing Hodges teetering, moves around the
desk, coming to tip everything off the DESK's BLOTTER and
to grab a COPY of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL.
The Killer begins a grotesque pantomime, crossing to
g esture towards several PAINTINGS on the wall. While
giving Hodges a questioning look, he looks behind one
painting. Finding nothing, he moves on... goes to throw
open the DOORS of a LIQUOR CABINET, gives a "?" SHRUG.
CONTINUED
65.
Hodges watches, beginning to GURGLE, shakes his head.
The Killer goes to put a hand over FILE CABINETS, looking
for Hodges to clue him in while moving his hand over one
after another -- like a game of "Colder Warmer Hotter."
Hodges shakes his head desperately, "no no no." He
cranes his neck and NODS insistently to across the room.
The Killer crosses to stand before FOUR long SHELVES full
of LAW CAS EBOOKS, LAW ENCYCLOPEDIAS and STATUTE TOMES.
Hodges, whose breathing grows wetter by the moment, makes
a big show of nodding his head up and down, "yes yes."
The Killer looks up at all those many books. Looks back
to Hodges, points to the books to the left, points to
books to the right, again looks questioningly.
Hodges has had enough. He jerks frantically forwards in
his chair, wheeling it a bit w hile turning the seat. He
begins THRUSTING all his weight forward, repeatedly --
his zip-tied hand grasping all the while for the PHONE...
that "911" tantalizingly close, but out of reach.
The desk chair TOPPLES...
Hodges HITS the floor hard, on his side.
Hodges, with both hands still zipped to the chair, is
feebly stuck there, eyes closed, a GURGLING fish out of
water. The Killer kneels beside, opening the NEWSPAPER
beneath Hodges' head as Hodges chokes up BLOODY SPITTLE.
The Killer next positions the NEWSPAPER beneath Hodges'
waist, under Hodges' urine-soaked haunches.
HODGES
(chok ing)
I... never... liked you.
The Killer rises, looking down to inspect his work.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Three, 9-gauge nails. Early
middle-aged non-smoker. About a
hundred and eighty pounds. Should
last... six, seven minutes...
Hodges is still breathing, but quite shallowly.
The Killer picks up Hodges' phone. Turns it OFF.
He puts it in his pocket as he steps over Hodges.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
66.
Coming to stand before the BOOKSHELVES, The Killer gives
a daunted sigh. CRACKS a few gloved KNUCKLES. He goes
to take out the far right BOOK from the bottom shelf;
begins his search there.
He opens the book, FANS the pages, replaces it. He takes
the next book to the left, fans it, replaces it. Same
with the next book left; searching every single book.
The Killer pauses, looking over his shoulder.
On the floor where he fell, Hodges lies motionless.
His open eyes are dull and lifeless.
DOLORES (O.S.)
Thompson Reuter's Eleventh
Edition!
The Killer reacts... s cans the shelves -- pulls the
Thompson book and finds a hidden NICHE CARVED OUT in the
book's pages. Therein resides a small LEDGER.
The Killer pries out the LEDGER, regards it.
OMITTED
228 228
OMITTED
229 229
OMITTED
230 230
OMITTED
231 231
INT. HODGES INNER OFFICE - AFTERNOON
231A 231A
The Killer wheels the shredder bin from the lobby into
Hodge's office.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Stick to the plan. Anticipate;
don't improvise.
INT. HODGES' OFFICE - AFTERNOON
232 232
The Killer closes the DOOR BLINDS. Flicks OFF LIGHTS.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Fight only the battle you're paid
to fight.
INT. HODGES' BATHROOM - EVENING
233 233
The DOOR OPENS and The Killer enters.
CONTINUED
67.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Trust no one.
Zip-tied Dolores leaning back against the SINK.
Her mascara has run, but she's all cried out.
The Killer notices the MEDICINE CABINET MIRROR ajar.
He reaches to take a PILL BOTTLE from Dolores' fist,
which she allows without struggle. He reads it:
"HODGES, EDWARD
ALPRAZOLAM
generic for
XANAX .25mg"
The Killer shakes the bottle, hears a few pills rattling.
He tosses it into the sink.
DOLORES
I'd beg... if I thought it would
do any good.
She looks to The Killer, who gives nothing; to which
Dolores lowers her head, swallows, regrouping.
DOLORES
I have the names you're looking
for... I know who "they" were...
(pause)
But, before I give them to you,
I... I want something in return...
(pause)
I know what you're capable of --
how you can make things seem.
(swallowing)
I'll give you the names you're
looking for, but I can't just
disappear. My children -- need my
life insurance... I'll trust you,
but promise me you won't leave
things looking... the wrong way.
Please.
The Killer waits.
DOLORES
I don't make the kind of money you
and Edwar d do. Not by a long
shot. But I have people who...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Forbid empathy.
CONTINUED
68.
DOLORES
I... I guess I am begging.
She swallows misery, struggling to maintain composure.
The Killer's expression still betrays nothing.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Empathy is weakness. Weakness is
vulnerability.
The Killer reaches down and cuts Dolores' zip-ties.
CUT TO:
INT. HODGES OFFICE - NIGHT
233A 233A
The Killer comes out of bathroom with Dolores trailing.
She sees Hodges lying bound and lifeless. She faints.
INT. HODGES' INNER OFFICE - NIGHT
234 234
The Killer opens the bin and tips it over onto the floor,
so the wide opening roughly faces Hodges' body.
QUICK CUT MONTAGE:
-The Killer wraps Hodges' head in newspaper like a
fishmonger.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Each and every step of the way,
ask yourself, what's in it for me?
-He uses a MULTI-TOOL to SNIP Hodges' left hand free.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
This is what it takes...
-He PUSHES Hodges' heavy corpse, head first, into the
mouth of the grey bin.
END MONTAGE
INT. HODGES' INNER OFFICE - NIGHT
235 235
The Killer lifts the nail gun from the desk.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
...what you must commit yourself
to...
CONTINUED
69.
He goes to drop them into the open, uprighted bin, where
we may catch a glimpse of the SOLES of Hodges' SHOES
before The Killer goes to...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
...if you want to succeed.
...collect the TWO impaled LAPTOPS from Hodges' desk.
These he TOSSES in, one after another, along with the
book and ledgers.
MOMENTS LATER:
The Killer flips the shredder bin's LID SHUT.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Simple.
OMITTED
236 236
OMITTED
237 237
INT. HODGES' OFFICE BLDG - ELEVATOR - NIGHT
238 238
DOORS OPEN. The Killer backs the grey bin into the empty
elevator. Dolores follows. She hits the "L" BUTTON and
watches as the DOORS CLOSE. The elevator descends. She
and The Killer stand stiffly. A DING is HEARD. They
both look up to see...
The ELEVATOR's STOPPING on "2."
The DOORS OPEN. A BUSINESS MAN and WOMAN, looking at
their PHONES, barely glance up at Dolores and The Killer
as they edg e past the big bin, squeezing in.
Dolores watches them. The leery Killer keeps his head
down, watching peripherally. DOORS CLOSE. ELEVATOR goes
DOWN. Business Man and Woman are "liking" and scrolling
on their devices.
BUSINESS MAN
(scoffs, off-handedly)
Need help getting rid of that
body?
DOLORES
(forced)
Ha. Hilarious.
CUT TO:
70.
EXT. HODGES OFFICE BUILDING - STREET - NIGHT
239 239
Man and Woman exit, walking away. The Killer backs out
with the grey bin. Dolores brings up the rear.
A few VEHICLES pass, but there's not much after hours
activity otherwise, as The Killer and Dolores cross
toward his white, rental van.
CUT TO:
INT. RENTAL VAN - MID-SOUTHERN CITY STREETS - NIGHT
240 240
There's only the SOUND of WHEELS on ASPHALT as The Killer
drives. Dolores is the passenger, her eyes heavy-lidded,
at least partly because of the Xanax. She looks down...
...at her HAND zip-tied to the dashboard's GRAB HANDLE.
Dolores' puffy eyes return to staring forward.
The Killer's staring forward. This is how they remain,
in silence, for a protracted moment.
CUT TO:
EXT. DOLORES' HOUSE - NIG HT
241 241
In a nice enough SUBURB, the white van PARKS. HEADLIGHTS
go OUT. A MAN walks his DOG, passing in the other
direction. After a moment, The Killer pulls forward into
the driveway of... Dolores' HOUSE.
The Killer gets out, leaving Dolores, who we briefly
glimpse. The Killer strides up the WALKWAY to the FRONT
PORCH. At the FRONT DOOR, he uses KEYS to enter. As
soon as he's in, the shadowy FIGURE of DOLORES can be
seen making every effort to YANK her tied hand free. All
the while, the home's WINDOWS remain DARK as Dolores
struggles, alas in vain... until the SOUND of the
automatic GARAGE DOOR is HEARD. The GARAGE DOOR rises,
bare bulb shining from inside as The Killer emerges,
returning. Dolores, in SILHOUETTE, gives up, slumping
forward. The Killer gets in, starts the van, pulls into
the garage, beside Dolores' CAR.
DOLORES (V.O.)
(pre-lap)
Start date of your employment, in
Paris...
CUT TO:
71.
INT. DOLORES' HOUSE, OFFICE - NIGHT
242 242
Dolores is seated on the BED, hands on her knees with
fingers spread, eyes staring off; slightly out-of-it.
DOLORES
... was November 28th. So, go to
"N."
The Killer, at Dolores' particle board SECTIONAL DESK and
incongruously surrounded by her framed FAMILY PHOTOS, is
seated facing Dolores, with a big, open-circular, large-
format ROLODEX on his knee, which he starts spinning.
DOLORES
Under "N," in nu merical order,
find... eleven twenty-eight. One
one two eight, and...
The Killer does so his fingers flicking through the
ROLODEX CARDS behind the "N" TAB. All the many cards are
covered in myriad, different colored HANDWRITTEN
NOTATIONS, with some TYPED INFO and cross-outs and
scribbled additions.
DOLORES
You'll recognize the address.
The Killer stops at one CARD, takes it out to examine:
11-28* 3 Rue du Grev
acct. CH-2315 Paris, France
697846111 *unanticipated overage
CH-2315a
889300295
560211453
DOLORES
Because of... what occurred,
there's an addendum at the bottom.
Should be two wire transfer
routing numbers, for the sub-
contractors you're interested in.
What's the first?
THE KILLER
(reading from CARD)
Eight, eight , nine--
CONTINUED
72.
DOLORES
"E."
(gestures, WIGGLING
her fingers)
Numerically again.
(PROPS NOTE - Dolores files many cards numerically,
NUMBERS at the top NOT spelled out, but still under the
letter each first number starts with -- "E" for 8, in
this example. There would also be an alphabetical section
before or after the numerical sections, under each tab,
with names and other coded words - all creating a
glorious, indecipherable-mess-only-Dolores-can-
understand... and, since she files a lot of stuff by wire
transfer routing numbers, there will likely be more cards
under O,T,F,S, E and N than under others, thank you!)
The Killer places the CARD on the corner of the desk,
searches the ROLODEX to "E,"... finds:
889300295 560211453
acct. CH-2315a /per E.H. acct. CH-3215a /per E.H.
M.C.W. H.T.
5 Union Avenue 2234 Coastal Bypass
Beacon, NY 12508 St. Petersburg, FL 33703
He plucks the TWO CARDS, glances up.
Dolores seems barely able to keep her eyes open.
The Killer looks back down at the first card... turns it
over, to find more masculine HANDWRITING:
paid in full
Claybourne, H
450 E. Wallace Ave./ PH
Chicago, IL 60654
THE KILLER
Claybourne?
Without turning, Dolores' eyes look over matter of fact.
DOLORES
The client.
The Killer absorbs this. He extracts this ROLODEX CARD.
His hand closes over the CARD on the desk as he stands.
Pocketing the TWO CARDS, The Killer looks to Dolores.
She's looking to him. He motions for her to come.
CONTINUED
73.
Dolores gets to her feet. She walks to The Killer.
INT. DOLORES' HOUSE - 2ND FLOOR HALL - NIGHT
243 243
The Killer steps aside, gesturing for Dolores to go thru
the doorway. She does, leading the way into a DARK HALL.
Her own expression has come to match The Killer's
emotionless example.
The Killer follows behind.
It is a slow walk down a relatively short hallway.
INT. DOLORES' HOUSE - 2ND FLOOR LANDING - NIGHT
244 244
As Dolores nears the STAIRWELL.
...The Killer is upon her -- reaching to TWIST Dolores'
head violently. The SNAP of her neck is actually
audible, or was it our imagination? Nevertheless...
The Killer throws his hands open, releasing Dolores so
suddenly that she teeters upright a moment, impossibly; a
marionette with cut stings, then...
Her body goes headlong down the stairs in a sickening,
somersa ulting TUMBLE of flopping limbs, snapping bones
and skin-splitting impacts.
She SLAMS to a halt in a bent, broken heap below. It's
scant solace that she was dead before the fall began.
CUT TO:
EXT. MID-SOUTHERN CITY - STORAGE FACILITY -- NIGHT
245 245
The Killer, in his van, leans out to NO-TOUCH-TOOL-poke
buttons on the mounted KEYPAD, which BEEPS. GATE RISES.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
"Clean up," without fail, is labor
intensive. To say the least.
INT. STORAGE UNIT - NIGHT
246 246
By the shadowy LIGHT of surrounding LED LANTERNS on the
floor, The Killer wheels the large grey bin containing
Hodges' corpse to beside the QUIKRETE bucket and cooler
at the center of a large, PLASTIC DROPCLOTH laid out.
The Killer crosses to the SHELVES. Takes some zip-ties.
He goes to grab a UTILITY TUB propped near the industrial
DRUMS, slides that over to beside the QUIKRETE.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
74.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Don't want a puzzle solved?
Remove a piece or two. Scatter
the rest.
At other SHELVES, he drags down, from amongst a few other
pieces of LUGGAGE, a large, hard-walled FOOTLOCKER.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
What's the expression? Measure
twice, cut once.
He steps to his TOOL RACK. Takes down a long-handled
TROWEL, and lastly... a large, jagged-toothed SAW.
CUT TO:
INT. MID-SOUTHERN HWY - RENTAL VAN - NIGHT
247 247
The Killer drives, attentive to the HIGHWAY before him.
IN THE BACK OF THE VAN:
A HANDTRUCK and a few flat MOVING BOXES are bungie-corded
to the wall. There are three items at the center of the
van: the COOLER, the FOOTLOCKER, and a SHOVEL.
CUT TO:
EXT. RENTAL VAN - FERRY TERMINAL - DECK - NIGHT
248 248
The Killer's van pulls in behind THREE VEHICLES already
waiting at the FERRY TERMINAL.
FERRY CREWMEN and CREWWOMEN in YELLOW VESTS wave them on.
The Killer follows as the vehicles pull onto the deck,
where they tandem park, close along the right RAIL.
EXT. BAY - FERRY (UNDERWAY) - NIGHT
249 249
The FERRY churns across the mouth of the BAY.
EXT. BAY - FERRY (UNDERWAY) - NIGHT
250 250
Some PASSENGERS are on the bow, watching waves crash in
foredeck FLOOD LIGHTS, chatting with DECK CREW.
Mid-ship, where the white van is situated in relative
darkness between empty CARS, the van's right hand SIDE
DOOR SLIDES OPEN. The Killer gets out, holding the
heavy cooler by its handle. He looks around.
CONTINUED
75.
He goes to lean his elbows on the railing, with the
cooler in his hands over the rail, looking to the water.
He glances around once more... lets the cooler drop.
Climbing back in thru the van's side door, The Killer
turns back, takes out a PHONE and TOSSES it over the rail
into the water. He SLIDES the door SHUT.
CUT TO:
OMITTED
251 251
EXT. RENTAL VAN - HIGHWAY - NIGHT
252 252
The Killer's van travels at speed limit, on relatively
desolate roadway.
CUT TO:
EXT. RENTAL VAN - BENEATH HIGHWAY - DAWN
253 253
O.S. VEHICLES ZOOM overhead. The Killer's van, dark,
sits in shadow between a raised FREEWAY's huge PILLARS.
A nearby TREELINE is alive with the SOUNDS of WILDLIFE.
EXT. SOUTHERN-CITY WILDERNESS - DAWN
254 254
HIGHWAY VEHICLES are only faintly HEARD here. The Killer
drags the FOOTLOCKER past a dirt MOUND to a fresh HOLE.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Even I have to occasionally remind
myself... the only life-path is
the one behind you.
He unceremoniously topples the footlocker in.
The Killer goes to get his SHOVEL.
CUT TO:
EXT. MOTEL 6 - DAY
255 255
CHILDREN SCREAM and SPLASH, supervised with varying
patience by PARENTS.
ON THE SECOND FLOOR:
A MAID rolls her CART by one DOOR where...
A "DO NOT DISTURB" SIGN hangs off the doorknob.
76.
INT. MOTEL 6 ROOM - DAY
256 256
On the BEDSIDE TABLE, beside The Killer's collapsible,
metal CUP and MULTI-TOOL key chained to his NO-TOUCH-
TOOL, an ALARM CLOCK reads: 2:33 PM.
Sunlight flares around closed CURTAINS. The Killer
sleeps on his back. His arms out of the sheet, at his
sides. No pillows. Those are stacked on the other BED
beside his travel bag and tomorrow's CLOTHES.
He sleeps deeply, despite the boisterous O.S. SHRIE KING,
his eyes busily REMing back and forth under his eyelids.
The Fitbit on his wrist READS an unusual "101 bpm."
CUT TO:
EXT. RENTAL VAN - INTERSTATE - NIGHT
257 257
The Killer's van rumbles on, only WHITE DOTTED LINES
ahead and dimly lit FOLIAGE on the periphery.
IN THE VAN - IN MOTION:
Behind the wheel, The Killer reaches to take a peeled,
HARD BOILED EGG from the paper Starbucks BAG on the
passenger seat. He puts it in his mouth, chews. He
reaches to get another EGG. He swallows. Puts the 2nd
in his mouth, chews.
He takes a Venti STARBUCKS COFFEE from th e center DRINK
HOLDER, washing down his "supper," keeping his eyes on
the road the whole time.
CUT TO:
EXT. FREEWAY - DEEP-SOUTH CITY - NIGHT
258 258
The Killer drives his rental van south, deep in Southern
flatlands, with CITYSCAPE to the east and ocean beyond.
OMITTED
259 259
OMITTED
260 260
INT/EXT. RENTAL VAN - CAR WASH - NIGHT
261 261
In the bay of a SELF-SERVE CAR WASH, with the van's rear
and side doors open, The Killer climbs into the back,
dragging the WASHER GUN and trailing HOSE which he whips
to gain slack. He pulls the trigger, unleashing the
WATER SPRAY -- BLASTING the van clean from inside out.
CONTINUED
77.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Cleanliness... right up there next
to Godliness, I'm told.
EXT. DEEP-SOUTH AIRPORT - TRUCK RENTAL LOT - NIGHT
262 262
Beneath SIGNAGE, The Killer's van enters the LOT.
CUT TO:
EXT. DEEP-SOUTH CITY - AIRPORT CAR RENTAL KIOSK- PRE-DAWN 263
263
A JUMBO JET rages overhead, coming in for a landing.
The Killer NO-TOUCH-signs an E-CONTRACT on the SCREEN of
a COMPUTER TABLET a male RENTAL AGENT holds out to him.
INSERT: THE KILLER'S HAND signs on a TABLET SCREEN for
the CAR RENTAL AGREEMENT for "REUBEN KINCAID."
OMITTED
264 264
EXT. RENTAL CAR - NEIGHBORHOOD - BRUTE'S HOUSE - MORNING 264A
264A
The Killer, in BUCKET HAT and SUNGLASSES, cruises by
luckless STREETS of wanting HOMES and a huge, rusting,
multi-legged WATER TOWER.
INSERT: THE KILLER'S hand, resting on the steering wheel,
holds the 3 ROLODEX CARDS: examining the top card which
features THE BRUTE'S ADDRESS ("H.T."), then THE KILLER
places the cards in a DRINK HOLDER below his mounted
PHONE which features a GPS ROUTE in ST. PETER SBURG.
INT. RENTAL CAR (IN MOTION) - MORNING
264B 264B
The Killer surveys his surroundings, glances down at...
CLOSE-UP: H.T.
2234 Coastal Bypass
St. Petersburg, FL 33703
IN THE CAR:
He turns his attention back to passing homes.
EXT. RENTAL CAR - NEIGHBORHOOD - BRUTE'S HOUSE - MORNING 264C
264C
DEEPER IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD:
The Killer drives by...
CONTINUED
78.
A single story, CORNER HOUSE, surrounded by CHAINLINK
FENCE. TWO MUSCLE CARS and a slick CYCLE out front.
There's no one in the weedy FRONT YARD, but...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Florida. The Sunshine State.
...as The Killer turns the corner, looking without being
conspicuous, it's a different story in the SIDE YARD.
TWO gangster-wannabes hang out with a muscular, shirtless
freak in GYM SHORTS we'll call T HE BRUTE.
The three men are jawing, VAPING WEED and taking turns on
a free WEIGHT BENCH in the yard. If he wasn't fenced in,
the crazed MASTIFF following and BARKING after The
Killer's Cruze would probably give chase.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Where else can you find so many
like-minded individuals? Outside
a penitentiary, I mean.
Luckily, it's only the huge dog paying the car any
attention as The Killer dr ives by.
EXT. RENTAL CAR - NEIGHBORHOOD - BRUTE'S HOUSE - MORNING 264D
264D
The Killer slows, pulls to stop.
IN THE CAR:
The Killer rolls down his window, watching in his left
SIDE MIRROR as he reaches to adjust it with his pinkie.
IN THE MIRROR: Mastiff retreats, having lost interest,
the three yoked pals carouse. It's The Brute's turn, and
he's repeatedly chest-pressing a stacked BARBELL.
Finishing, The sweaty Brute leaps to his feet, roaring at
his compatriots, laughing m aniacally. He's a bulked-up,
tatted-up personification of 'roid rage.
The Killer turns, leaning out to look back...
THE KILLER'S MIRROR POV:
The Brute sucks on a proffered VAPE PEN and expels a
mushroom cloud. We notice his bare, right leg... where
he has a beginning-to-heal, jaggedly, perhaps-self-
STITCHED WOUND on his outer thigh. A stab wound.
CONTINUED
79.
IN THE CAR:
The Killer faces forward, stares ahead, considering.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Hope they're not planning a
sleepover.
He pulls away. Drives on.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
First things first.
FADE TO BLACK
CUT TO:
INT. DEEP-SOUTH CITY - SUPERMARKET - DAY
265 265
The Killer wheels a SHOPPING CART to EXPRESS CHECKOUT,
placing his few ITEMS onto the moving CONVEYOR.
ANGLE ON:
FEMALE CASHIER passes each over the SCANNER: a plastic
KITCHEN FUNNEL... a kitchen DISH TOWEL... a package of
"UNISOM SLEEP GELS"... a pack of "SOMINEX" TABLETS... A
40oz. BOTTLE of "OLDE ENGLISH 800"... a pack of "ZzzQUIL"
TABLETS... shrink-wrapped POUND of GROUND BEEF.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT. RE NTAL CAR - BRUTE HOUSE - AFTERNOON
266 266
The Killer's Cruze is parked with a cheap SUNSHADE
propped in the windshield, but the shade's askew.
INSIDE THE CRUZE:
The Killer, in SUNGLASSES, is slumped low, peering...
THE KILLER'S POV:
...past the askew shade, which allows a view of The
Brute's house, up the block. The cars and motorcycle are
still parked there.
IN THE CRUZE:
The Killer sweats in the heat, patient.
CUT TO:
80.
INT/EXT. RENTAL CAR - BRUTE HOUSE - DUSK
267 267
Sun's fallen low. The Brute and two Thug Pals come out
the front door, crossing the yard. Mastiff follows.
Thug One gets behind the wheel of one car as The Brute
gets in the passenger side. Thug Two hops on the cycle.
Mastiff's left, barking after them.
IN THE CRUZE:
The Killer pulls down the cardboard shade, starts the
engine, watches THRU THE WINDSHIELD: as the car and cycle
head off. He follo ws.
CUT TO:
EXT. CASINO PARKING LOT - NIGHT
268 268
The Brute and Two Thugs, amped, in their GOLD CHAINS and
Ed Hardy-esque DUDS, stride three abreast from the busy
PARKING LOT towards a neon adorned CASINO ENTRANCE.
Not far away, The Killer's Cruze stops at the end of an
aisle. The Killer watches the three, then...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Maybe a mandatory 30-day waiting
period for the purchase of
creatine's not a bad idea.
Drives away, leaving them.
CUT TO :
EXT. BRUTE HOUSE - NIGHT
269 269
A TEEN COUPLE, vaping, strolls where The Killer's vanilla
rental car is slowing, paying the vehicle no mind.
INT/EXT. RENTAL CAR - BRUTE HOUSE - NIGHT
270 270
IN THE CRUZE:
The Killer sits in darkness, about where he was parked
previously, watching The Brute's house. No activity.
THE KILLER
So, here you are. Vigilant.
(glancing at FITBIT)
Narrowly focused.
(more)
CONTINUED
81.
THE KILLER (CONT.)
How's the whole, "I don't give a
fuck?" going?
UP THE STREET:
HEADLIGHTS swing 'round the corner. It's Thug One's car,
roaring up to The Brute's and predictably SCREECHING to a
halt. The Brute climbs from the car.
After a profanity-laced farewell between Thug and The
Brute, and an obligatory, tires-smoking U-TURN, the car
races off. The Brute walks towards his house.
Mastiff runs across the yard t o greet The Brute,
following when ignored. The Brute, stumbling, goes in.
IN THE CRUZE:
The Killer takes the CAR KEY from the ignition, stashes
it under the driver's side VISOR.
He looks at his Fitbit.
It's "3:12 AM."
He takes out his GLOCK, checks it. Pockets it.
He TAPS his Fitbit.
"118 bpm."
He frowns. He sits back, closes his eyes.
He breathes in... exhales. Breathes in. Out. In. Out.
He check s...
"116 bpm."
Disgusted with himself, he pulls the Fitbit off, hangs it
on the REARVIEW MIRROR. Gets out.
INT/EXT. RENTAL CAR - BRUTE HOUSE - NIGHT
271 271
The bucket-hatted Killer reaches to grab SOMETHING small
wrapped in PLASTIC, and he also gets the 40oz. BEER
BOTTLE, wrapped in a PAPER BAG.
He nudges the door shut, adjusts his hat, starts up the
block. He glances around, taking his time, on a
leisurely stroll towards The Brute's.
EXT. BRUTE HOUSE - SIDE YARD - NIGHT
272 272
As The Killer nears, crossing the street, Mastiff starts
barking.
CONTINUED
82.
The Killer continues, with beer bottle under his arm,
unwrapping what he's got in the plastic. He heads along
the home's side lot as Mastiff growls and follows on the
other side of that fence.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
This'll have to be a best guess,
based on the average pit bull
weighing 45 to 55 pounds. Up
close, she actually looks bigger.
The Killer's close enough to...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Caution: cont ains Diphenhydramine.
Do not take if you're allergic to
Diphenhydramine. Immediately
contact your veterinarian if you
experience vomiting, diarrhea...
or excessive fur loss.
...casually TOSS what he's unwrapped over.
IN THE YARD:
3 sizable MEATBALLS land on the lawn. Mastiff shuts up
long enough to come sniff. He begins gobbling.
ON THE STREET:
The Killer walks on, bending to place the bagged beer
bottle by the GATE to The Brute's yard, keeps going.
The Killer crosses to the other side of the street. In
shadows beneath a tree, The Killer sits down on the curb.
He puts on GLOVES.
Mastiff, finished eating, restlessly patrols his turf.
Adjusting the gloves, The Killer cracks his neck.
In the yard, Mastiff wanders off.
Elbows rested on his knees, The Killer watches the house.
CUT TO:
OMITTED
273 273
83.
EXT. BRUTE HOUSE - NIGHT
274 274
The Brute's house is dark, except FRONT PORCH LIGHT's ON.
Front and side yard seem empty; no sign of Mastiff.
ACROSS THE STREET
The Killer rises from where he's been seated.
He walks towards The Brute's house.
He passes the brown-bagged bottle as he opens the fence
gate and enters the yard. He takes out his gun, stalking
warily towards the house.
OMITTED
275 275
OMITTED
276 276
EXT. BRUTE HOUSE - BACK PORCH - NIGHT
277 277
The Killer approaches the REAR PORCH.
Walking up the STAIRS, he halts...
Mastiff lies asleep, SNORING heavily.
Stepping around, The Killer goes to crouch at the REAR
DOOR. He peeks in thru the dark WINDOW. He takes out a
KEY, inserts it in the DEADBOLT.
It's a BUMP KEY, with a tiny RUBBER WASHER around its
neck. By applying gentle turning pressure while using
the butt of his gun to carefully TAP the head of the key,
he's able to -- TURN the KEY, UNLOCKING the deadbolt.
INT. BRUTE HOUSE - NIGHT
278 278
The moment of truth: as The Killer quietly enters,
pocketing the bump key, raising his weapon. He leaves
the DOOR OPEN behind him as he walks up a dark HALLWAY.
He checks each room as he proceeds... a LAUNDRY ROOM with
old WASHER and DRYER to his left... open entryway to
dark, empty, filthy KITCHEN to his right, with big
BUTCHER BLOCK ISLAND at center.
Moving on. He carefully steps around a few em pty BEER
BOTTLES on the floor. A FLOORBOARD CREAKS underfoot,
giving The Killer pause. He listens. He proceeds.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Stick to your plan.
CONTINUED
84.
The hall widens to an ENTRY HALL, FRONT DOOR ahead...
the large LIVING ROOM is thru a broad entryway to the
right... to the left is a DOOR that's ajar. The whole
place is like a sparsely furnished frat house.
He goes to the door to the left, pushes it inward...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Anticipate; don't improvise.
INT. BRUTE HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT
279 279
The Killer steps in, gun up. He finds a very unwelcome
sight: the BED is empty, covers tossed aside. This is a
problem. The Killer takes a step, looking...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Trust no one.
He can see -- thru an open DOORWAY and thru the adjoining
BATHROOM and thru another open DOORWAY -- back the whole
length of house to the washer and dryer. This is a
fucking problem. He quickly backtracks...
INT . BRUTE HOUSE - HALLWAY - NIGHT
280 280
The Killer emerges from the bedroom, aiming the way he
came...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Fight only the battle you're paid
to fight.
...a fraction of a second too late as The hulking Brute's
already CHARGING headlong from the gloom...
The Brute COLLIDES into The Killer like a freight train,
shoving The Killer's gun hand up by the wrist while
KNOCKING The Killer off his feet...
The Killer's SLAMMED brutally bac kwards against the
living room threshold and sent SPRAWLING to the hardwood
floor. (His HAT's knocked off, unsurprisingly.)
His dropped gun bounces into the room.
The Brute, in SWEATPANTS and MUSCLE SHIRT, strides to the
FRONT DOOR, twisting the DEADBOLT with a happy leer.
THE BRUTE
You picked the wrong house,
motherfucker.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
85.
The Brute fingers-WHISTLES shrilly while THROWING the
front door wide, so it slams the wall.
THE BRUTE
(to the open doorway)
Rip him up!
He's pointing towards The Killer, but he's speaking only
to the empty front porch, much to his confused chagrin.
The shaken Killer crawls towards where his gun ended up.
At the front door, The Brute leans out, dumbfounded.
THE BRUTE
Where the -- ?
He wheels, SHOVING the F RONT DOOR SHUT, looking...
INT. BRUTE HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
281 281
As The Killer's reaching out for his gun, The Brute
arrives to deliver a GUT KICK.
The Brute picks up the gun. The Killer tries to rise.
The Brute steps to -- KICK The Killer in the ribs.
The Killer falls onto his back, sucking air.
THE BRUTE
Remember...
The Brute EJECTS the BULLET from the gun's chamber.
THE BRUTE
...you brought this on yourself,
cunt.
He pops the CARTRIDGE, throws the gun to the corne r.
THE BRUTE
Anyone usually sees me coming...
He rapidly pushes the BULLETS out of the cartridge...
THE BRUTE
...they don't cross the street.
...one by one to the floor.
He tosses the empty cartridge over by the gun, advancing.
THE BRUTE
They move to another area code.
CONTINUED
86.
The Killer's prone, on his knees, gripping the overladen
COFFEE TABLE in an effort to get up as the Brute SHOVES
the coffee table aside, FLIPPING it -- sends MAGAZINES,
ASHTRAYS and empty BEER BOTTLES flying.
The Killer, on hands and knees, is still trying to rise.
The Brute takes a big step and...
...as he's KICKING -- The Killer drops his shoulder and
twists his upper body; manages to deflect t he kick while
SWEEPING The Brute's other leg out with his arm...
The Brute THUDS hard; flat on his back.
The Killer scrambles atop The Brute, begins PUNCHING him
in the face. The Brute BASHES his fist across the side
of The Killer's head, KNOCKING him off.
Both men get unsteadily to their feet, already breathing
hard from adrenaline excess. They size each other up
while taking a moment to regain th eir footing and senses.
The Brute, wiping at his bloody nose, seems more
bewildered than hurt, and a dim recognition is dawning.
THE BRUTE
Is that... is that you, Mr. Third
World? Is you, isn't it...?
The Killer's trying to clear his head, inhaling thru
bloodied teeth. We've never seen him angry; we've not
seem him much of anything before, but he's angry now.
The Brute moves in, pugilistic. He and The Killer
circle. The 'roided-up Brute throws sharp, MMA-style
PUNCHES; he's the cinderblock fisted aggressor.
The lighter-on-his-feet Killer evades; backing away,
blocking, waiting for openings as he counter-STRIKES.
The Killer bends to grab up a stainless steel FORK from
beside an aluminum TV DINNER TIN on the floor.
He wields the meager utensil.
The Brute laughs.
The Brute keeps up his flat -footed onslaught, seeking a
knock-out, but The Killer's like a lightning fast cobra
up against a grizzly bear -- deftly STABBING (and
withdrawing) the fork into The Brute's extending, ramrod
arms -- stabbing ONCE... TWICE...
The grunting Brute wheels, SWINGING.
...THRICE: The Brute gets forked in the triceps.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
87.
The Brute, holding his arm, regroups, angry.
He charges. The Killer dodges... ducks -- gets HAMMERED
in the back of the neck, but he's already STABBING low...
As The Killer falls...
The Brute CRIES OUT.
The fork is left sticking straight out of The Brute's
right thigh. Agonized, The Brute reaches down to tear
open his sweatpants, revealing that the fork has found
its mark; having been thrust dir ectly and deeply into his
crookedly-stitched, bleeding-anew stab wound.
The Killer rises, dazed but pleased. Looks around.
The Brute's trembling hand extracts and drops the fork.
The Killer jumps to rip down the cheap, black-out
CURTAINS over one barred WINDOW. He yanks the 5-foot,
metal CURTAIN ROD from curtain loops, disentangling it.
Not a moment too soon, as The Brute's upon him...
The Killer PAR RIES with the blunt rod, JABBING...
avoiding The Brute's graspings. The Brute wants hands-on
combat, his frustration and rage building.
The Killer continuously STRIKES...
The Brute blocks with his meaty hands and forearms.
The Killer leaps onto and over the SOFA, with The Brute
in pursuit, content to spar and retreat.
The Killer switches to SLASHING at and BASHING The
Brute's shins and knees, work ing the lower extremities.
A STAB to the side of The Brute's knee fells him.
As The Brute gets to his feet, a THWACK directly to that
gory thigh wound sends him back down.
The Killer SWINGS the length of the curtain rod across
the small of The Brute's back, then brings the rod over
from behind in a double-handed stranglehold.
The Brute fights to prevent the rod from crushing his
windpipe, jumping up, backpedaling...
He CRUSHES The Killer between himself and the now
FRACTURING, wall-mounted TELEVISION. The Brute bends...
FLIPS The Killer over and off...
It's The Killer's turn to SLAM hardwood.
The Brute's kept ahold of the rod, which he bends against
his raised knee till it SNAPS. He throws the pieces.
CONTINUED
88.
The Brute grabs The stunned Killer, lifts him bodily.
Looks like it just might be the grizzly's day after all,
as The Brute THROWS The Killer a fair distance...
The Killer CRASHES into the STEREO SYSTEM, destroying
TURNTABLE, SPEAKERS and VINYL LPs. He collapses to the
floor, nearly-insensate.
He tries to crawl.
The Brute's happy now, gleeful even, coming to stand
literally astride The Killer. H e pushes The Killer with
his foot, turning him over onto his back.
The Brute drops to his knees, places his hands around The
Killer's neck and starts to squeeze.
This startles The Killer fully awake. With the veins in
his neck bulging beneath The Brute's whitening fingers,
The Killer attempts to break the grip. Can't.
The Killer tries desperately to push The Brute off...
tries to grasp the Brute' s own thick neck... tries to
gouge The Brute's protectively-upturned face. The Brute
releases one hand -- PUNCHES The Killer, then...
...reestablishes his vice-like grip on The Killer's
throat. Seems likely this will be over soon.
Except, while his left hand continues its futile
retaliation, The Killer's right hand (still clad, as is
the left, in reddened-by-blood glove), goes to the floor
to begi n frantically reaching around in an effort to find
something -- anything -- to fight back with.
There's nothing within grasp though, except for... a
Budweiser BOTTLE CAP, which The Killer's fingers grab.
The Killer's trying to breath. Failing.
His right hand presses the bottle cap between forefinger
and thumb... squeezing it; managing to slowly BEND it.
Bursting capillaries redden The Killer's wide ey es.
His right hand manages to FOLD the BOTTLE CAP in half, so
its suddenly got two rather pointy ends.
Just then -- as The Killer's verging on unconsciousness,
and The drooling Brute's grinning victoriously -- The
Killer's right hand shoots up...
...SHOVING the sharp bottle cap in The Brute's left ear.
CONTINUED
89.
The Brute recoils as if thrown back by an explosion,
HOWLING, holding his ear. He scrabbles away.
The Killer gasps for air, clutching his throat.
He crawls in the other direction.
The Brute gets up, falls. Gets up. Clawing at his
bloody, punctured ear, he looks to where The Killer lies.
THE BRUTE
Fuck this, you fuck! Fuck this.
He lumbers unevenly out into the hall -- stricken by
vertigo; his ea rdrum burst -- stumbling to his bedroom.
On the living room floor, The still hurting Killer looks
over his shoulder to see The Brute's gone.
The Killer scrambles to the corner where The Brute
scattered the disassembled weapon. He finds and takes up
his gun. He collects the empty cartridge.
The Killer picks up one of the bullets and tries, with
shaky hands, to fit it back into the cartridge.
Acro ss the room, The unsteady Brute returns, with blood
running down from his ear. He brandishes an AUTOMATIC
HANDGUN in one hand and sizable REVOLVER in the other.
The Killer looks up to see this just as...
He manages to insert the lone bullet into the cartridge.
Too little too late, The Killer DIVES...
The Brute rapid-FIRES the auto -- BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The Killer disappears behind a section of the SOFA as
CHUNKS of it are being BLOWN AWAY.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The apoplectic Brute casts aside the
automatic, stumbles forward, switching the REVOLVER to
that hand. He attempts to level it...
The Killer's already on his feet, running...
The Brute, his aim thrown by imbalance, nonetheless FIRES
-- BANG! BANG! The Killer LEAPS head-first thru the
kitchen PASS-THRU.
INT. BRUTE HOUSE - KITCHEN - NI GHT
282 282
BULLETS SPLINTER the pass-thru CABINETS. With SHATTERING
GLASSES and BOTTLES CRASHING down in his wake, The Killer
TUMBLES to the linoleum floor.
CONTINUED
90.
The Brute KICKS the kitchen's DOOR OPEN, aiming, his
stagger-inducing vertigo be damned...
The Killer takes cover behind the kitchen island as --
BANG! -- SPLITTING BUTCHER BLOCK absorbs a THUDDING SLUG.
The cowering Killer manages to SHOVE the cartridge into
his gun. He primes the weapon.
The Brute's coming around, seeking a clear shot.
The Killer springs, momentarily out in the open...
The Brute's got him dead to rights, except...
The Killer throws the hulking, old-school REFRIGERATOR's
DOOR open between himself and the next BANG! BANG! BANG!
The Killer springs up, aiming from behind the fridge door
-- FIRING his one and only shot.
A RED HOLE APPEARS in The Brute's forehead.
His eyes roll to white. He collapses.
CUT TO:
INT. BRUTE HOUSE - LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT
283 283
The wrecked, empty room is quiet. Sofa's SMOLDERING.
The Killer enters from the kitchen, enervated. He looks
around a moment, seems uncertain. He crosses.
He picks up his bucket hat.
INT. BRUTE HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT
284 284
The Killer returns, stepping over The Brute's body.
He goes to the refrigerator, opens the upper FREEZER
door, looks in. He takes out a BAG of FROZEN CORN. He
presses the bag to his face.
INT. BRUTE HOUSE - HALLWAY - NIGHT
285 285
The Killer starts towards the back door. A low O.S.
GROWLING is HEARD.
The Killer stops in his tracks, dropping the bag of corn.
Thru the back door, Mastiff comes to stand in view on the
porch, fully awake, SNARLING.
The Killer runs up the hall.
Mastiff bolts after him.
Mastiff's fast, closing the gap...
Snapping at The Killer's heels.
91.
INT. BRUTE HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT
286 286
The Killer ducks into The Brute's bedroom, SLAMMING the
DOOR behind; just barely shutting Mastiff out.
The beast can be HEARD CLAWING, barking.
FOLLOW: as The Killer keeps moving, heading...
Thru the BATHROOM, towards the back of the house...
Thru into that LAUNDRY ROOM, where...
INT. BRUTE HOUSE - HALLWAY - NIGHT
287 287
He's certainly free and clear now, but as he glances over
his shoulder to where Mastiff's still raging at the
bedroom door...
The Killer's foot SLIPS on the bag of frozen corn.
He FLOPS hard to the floor.
Mastiff immediately takes off towards him.
The Killer scrambles... trying to regain his footing.
The gnashing, hard charging Mastiff nearly upon him.
EXT. BRUTE HOUSE - BACK PORCH - NIGHT
288 288
The Killer makes it out, pulling the DOOR SHUT in
Mastiff's face. Another close call. Mastiff's BARKING
furiously. The beaten and bloody Killer falls.
He tries to rise, but staggers. He goes unsteadily to
his knees. He finds he must sit there a moment, his head
held in his hands, breathing; trying to regain himself.
He lifts his head, gets to his feet.
He walks, shakily, down the porch stairs.
INT. BRUTE'S HOUSE - HALLWAY - NIGHT
288A 288A
Mastiff gives a last angry exhalation, then turns to go
charging towards the front of the house.
INT. BRUTE'S HOUSE, ENTRYWAY - NIGHT
288B 288B
Mastiff runs headlong, literally -- into the door-length
WINDOW of the FRONT DOOR...CRASHES thru SHATTERING GLASS.
EXT. BRUTE'S HOUSE, BACK PORCH - NIGHT
288C 288C
The Killer's limping towards the gate.
Mastiff appears from around the house, in a last ditch
effort sprint...
CONTINUED
92.
The Killer disbelieving... picks up the pace.
He pushes thru the gate and closes it, going to his knees
just as Mastiff arrives, thwarted, frothing.
The Killer picks himself up again.
He takes up and unwraps the waiting beer bottle, which is
now filled with GASOLINE, one must presume, since it's
sporting a DISH TOWEL fuse.
Mastiff barks and rages beyond the chainlink, watching as
The Killer takes out a LIGHTER to LIGHT the fuse.
INT. BRUTE HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
289 289
Mastiff's BARKING and distant SIRENS are HEARD. A WINDOW
SHATTERS as Molotov cocktail HELLFIRE EXPLODES thru...
...sending a napalm-like FIREBALL far into the room.
FLAMES wash across the floor, engulfing FURNITURE.
EXT. BRUTE HOUSE - NIGHT
290 290
The Killer walks away. Behind, Mastiff gives voice to
impotent rage as FLAMES and SMOKE billow from the home.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
(beaten-up, wearily)
This is what it takes. What you
must commit yourself to. If you
want to succeed.
(pause, weakly)
Simple.
CUT TO:
INT. DEEP-SOUTH CITY AIRPORT - LOUNGE - MORNING
291 291
GENTLEMAN GREETER'S HAND accepts from THE KILLER'S HAND a
FREQUENT FLYER CARD with "LOU GRANT" on it, holds the
card to look at it, and then holds it out to return it.
LOUNGE GREETER
Welcome, Mr. Grant. We'll let you
know as soon as your flight begins
boarding.
(TYPING, brightly)
Homeward bound, I hope.
Lounge Greeter glances up... his smile dropping.
The Killer, bearing BRUISES, BLACK EYE, and swollen FACE
and LIP, accepts his cards back.
CONTINUED
93.
THE KILLER
Not just yet.
INT. DEEP-SOUTH CITY AIRPORT - LOUNGE - SHOWER - MORNING
292 292
Inside the SHOWER's frosted-glass, The naked Killer is
seated on the tile floor, head down, bruised arms crossed
over his knees, letting COLD WATER rain upon him.
INT. AIRPLANE - SOUTH TO NY - IN FLIGHT - DAY
293 293
The Killer can be found in a WINDOW SEAT near the back of
all-seats-full COACH. In BUCKET HAT and SUNGLASSES, he
is uncharacteristically head-back-and-mouth-agape ASLEEP.
CUT TO:
INT. NYC - GRAND CENTRAL TERMINAL - DAY
294 294
Amongst the rush hour THRONG of HUMANS hurrying every
which way in the massive TERMINAL... we find just another
minuscule, anonymous drone in the ant hill: The Killer
striding along, with his TRAVEL BAG over his shoulder.
We nearly lose him in the CROWD, but there he goes...
...heading into the PASSAGEWAY to the SUBWAY tunnels.
INT. AMTRAK TRAIN - MOVING - AFTERNOON
295 295
Once again found amongst the distracted, The Killer's in
another WINDOW SEAT, watching GREEN COUNTRYSIDE zip by.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Upstate New York. Stone's throw
from the city that never sleeps.
Not far off the beaten path. What
are you doing... living amongst
the normies?
CUT TO:
EXT. UPSTATE, NY - AMTRAK TRAIN STATION - AFTERNOON
296 296
The Killer and a FEW OTHERS detrain.
EXT. UPSTATE, NY - ENTERPRISE RENTAL - EVENING
297 297
A middle-aged, disinterested FEMALE RENTAL AGENT hands
The Killer a car rental FOLIO and CAR KEY.
CONTINUED
94.
MIDDLE-AGED AGENT
(flatly)
On behalf of Enterprise, Mr.
Malone, have a safe driving day.
CUT TO:
EXT. UPSTATE, NY - EXPERT HOUSE, WEALTHY AREA - DAY
298 298
A grey MITSUBISHI MIRAGE waits on an attractive and
quiet, upscale street of TOWN HOUSES.
INT/EXT. NY RENTAL CAR - EXPERT HOUSE - DAY
299 299
INSERT: THE KILLER'S HAND plucks from a slot in the car's
VENT one ROLODEX CARD, holds it to study: the CARD
showing THE EXPERT'S ADDRESS...
M.C.W.
5 Union Avenue
Beacon, NY 12508
...then puts it back.
IN THE CAR
The Killer puts the card aside.
He sits back, biding time once again...
Observing SINGLE-FAMILY HOMES on this street.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
For an active practitioner,
bedroom-community-adjacent... it's
an unusual choice.
Watching one in particular...
POV THRU THE WINDSHIELD:
...a stately MID-CENTURY about halfway up the block.
CUT TO:
EXT. UPSTATE, NY - EXPERT HOUSE, WEALTHY AREA - NIGHT
300 300
The grey MITSUBISHI MIRAGE still waits in the dark on the
attractive and quiet, upscale street.
INT/EXT. NY RENTAL CAR - EXPERT HOUSE - NIGHT
301 301
The Killer sits, biding his time.
CONTINUED
95.
POV THRU THE WINDSHIELD:
...where a LIGHT is ON in the PICTURE WINDOW of the MID-
CENTURY halfway up the block.
EXT. UPSTATE NY - EXPERT HOUSE - NIGHT
302 302
A SHADOW moves, then the LIGHT goes OUT.
INT/EXT. NY RENTAL CAR - EXPERT HOUSE - NIGHT
303 303
The Killer's attentive.
POV THRU WINDSHIELD:
The PORCH LIGHT comes ON, shining brightly. The FRONT
DOOR opens and a statuesque WOMAN emerges.
IN THE CAR
The Killer sits up, fixated.
INT/EXT. UPSTATE NY - EXPERT HOUSE - NIGHT
304 304
The woman, who we'll call THE EXPERT, walks to the
DRIVEWAY. She's pretty far away, so we can't get a very
good look as she climbs into a pristine, cream colored
CADILLAC, which she STARTS.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Leo told me she looked like a Q-
tip. He wasn't far off.
INT/EXT. NY RENTAL CAR - EXPERT HOUSE - NIGHT
305 305
The Killer watches the sedan pull out and head away. He
lets its REAR LIGHTS grow tiny before he STARTS his car.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT. NY RENTAL CAR - IN MOTION - NIGHT
306 306
POV THRU WINDSHIELD:
The Killer follows the cream Cadillac.
RED LIGHT ahead. The Cadillac stops as... The Killer
pulls over, to slowly approach from the left.
IN THE MITSUBISHI
The Killer's looking while...
LOWERING the FRONT PASSENGER SIDE WINDOW.
CONTINUED
96.
He reaches to a silenced-GLOCK on the passenger seat.
POV THRU OPEN SIDE WINDOW:
The Killer inches alongside without overtaking, so The
Expert's profile gradually comes into relief -- she is
absolutely striking in appearance, with a shock of hair,
pale skin and sharp-set jawline.
IN THE MITSUBISHI
The Killer takes her in a moment.
His hand comes off the Glock.
POV THRU OPEN SIDE WINDOW:
The SIDE WINDOW r ises, CLOSING. The traffic LIGHT TURNS
GREEN. The unsuspecting Expert drives on.
CUT TO:
EXT. NY RENTAL CAR - UPSTATE STREETS - RESTAURANT - NIGHT 307
307
On not-too-busy streets of this quaint-cool town, the
Cadillac crosses a short BRIDGE, pulls alongside the
industrial BRICK FACADE of a RESTAURANT, to a VALET.
BEHIND:
The Killer pulls his Mitsubishi over, gliding curbside
MID-BRIDGE.
AHEAD:
A VALET opens her door. The Expert climbs out.
As she walks to the ENTRANCE, she gives the slightest nod
to those who greet her and vie to hold DOORS for her.
IN THE MIRAGE:
The Killer watches. Checks his MIRRORS, lets a CAR pass.
INT/EXT NY RENTAL CAR - RESTAURANT - CREEK - NIGHT
308 308
The Killer gets out and walks to stand near a RAILING. A
raging CREEK ROARS below. The front of the restaurant is
all CURTAINS, so...
The Killer backtracks.
97.
EXT. CREEK RESTAURANT - NIGHT
309 309
A few VEHICLES come and go at a nearby HOTEL. A COUPLE
strolls past The Killer, but it seems like he's just
enjoying the scenery. He moves to look into picture
windows that ring the restaurant.
INT/EXT. POV:CREEK RESTAURANT - NIGHT
310 310
POV:
The Expert can be seen seated, alone, at a lushly
upholstered BANQUETTE.
She's fawned over by a MAITRE D'. A WAITER pours WATER.
CUT TO:
EXT. MAIN STREET - RESTAURANT - NIGHT
311 311
FOLLOW: The Killer as he crosses the bridge, with the
SOUND of RUSHING WATER below...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Alright. It's common knowledge,
when a female is found slain, the
prime suspect is always the
husband or boyfriend. Especially
if she hasn't been sexually
assaulted before death, or after.
Beyond the restaurant ENTRANCE, he walks past the VALET.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Well... maybe not common
knowledge.
The Killer stops at a SECOND DOOR. VOICES of a busy
KITCHEN are HEARD.
CUT TO:
INT. RESTAURANT - DINING ROOM - NIGHT
312 312
At her table, which already has several incredible PLATES
of FOOD, a WAITER drops off more DISHES. The Expert
distractedly watches him.
Amongst crossing WAIT STAFF, TWO MEN at a TABLE drink
GLASSES of WINE while their empty PLATES are taken.
A few empty tables away, a dressed-in-Sunday-best FAMILY
gathers themselves and their belongings.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
98.
At another, TWO COUPLES chat amicably over COFFEE.
The Expert looks down to get her CLUTCH. She's about to
open it when... a HAND gently takes it from her grasp.
It's The Killer, arriving to take a seat, much to her
astonishment.
THE EXPERT
Pardon me, what do you think
you're -- ?
The Killer slides towards her while he's...
...showing her his GUN, out of view of others.
The Expert's eyes flick to see this.
The Expert fixes her gaze, the embers of anger dimming to
shocked realization; as if by not looking at him she may
somehow deny what's occurring.
The Killer keeps his eyes on her while his right hand
places a NAPKIN over the gun between them.
The Expert lets herself now take in The Killer's
features, everything perfectly, chillingly clear to her.
The Killer reaches across to take The Expert's WATER
GLASS and sip from it, surveying the room to make sure no
one's paying undue attention.
He puts the glass down, opens The Expert's purse.
The Expert watches, clenching her jaw, but... she's at
his mercy. The Killer takes a SLEEK PISTOL from the
purse, pockets it. He slides the purse back to her.
The Expert swallows, blinks. She shakes her head to
herself, giving a hollow laugh.
THE EXPER T
I'd been so good for so long.
Suddenly, my deepest regret is not
having Haagen-Dazs with every
meal.
She glances to the KITCHEN DOOR -- in the direction The
Killer came from -- as STAFF pass thru it.
A HANDSOME WAITER comes to the table.
HANDSOME WAITER
May I bring a menu?
CONTINUED
99.
The Expert looks at Handsome Waiter, looks to The Killer.
She's at a loss. Handsome Waiter just waits amicably.
THE EXPERT
(to The Killer)
You won't mind if I have a drink?
The Killer gives the slightest shake of his head.
THE EXPERT
(to Handsome Waiter)
No menu, Carl. A flight of
whiskeys, though. And... my
bottle, while you're at it.
HANDSOME WAITER
My pleasure.
Handsome Waiter takes his leave.
THE EXP ERT
By a "drink," of course I mean
"many."
She looks around, still in woeful shock.
THE EXPERT
Here's where I'm supposed to ask
how you found me, but... does it
matter?
She looks to The Killer, studying him; searching his
reactions, or lack thereof.
THE EXPERT
Tell me Hodges is dead, at least.
Give me that? Tell me he went
painfully.
(of the FOOD)
Help yourself, by the way. The
chef sends out anything he
imagines I'd like.
Though, I doubt I'll manage much
more of an appetite.
She moves a PLATE of beautifully prepared STEAK TARTARE
towards The Killer, one of the several aesthetically
pleasing DISHES she's barely touched.
THE EXPERT
It's one of their signature
dishes. You won't find better,
even in the city.
(more)
CONTINUED
100.
THE EXPERT (CONT.)
You'd be very impolite to refuse
to join my last supper.
She picks up one of her FORKS, slides her arm across the
table and holds the fork out to The Killer.
THE EXPERT
Afraid it's tainted?
The Expert waggles the still proffered fork.
Relenting, The Killer picks up his own FORK.
He dutifully samples, chews.
The Expert sits back, observing him.
THE EXPERT
I'm assuming you've also paid a
visit to a certa in... over-
adrenalized Floridian.
(pause)
No great loss there.
The Killer's just watching.
Handsome Waiter brings a BOTTLE of BOURBON, with TWO
stacked SHOT GLASSES and a BOWL of ICE.
HANDSOME WAITER
Here we are.
THE EXPERT
Quick, wasn't that?
Another WAITER comes to deliver a WOODEN PLANK with THREE
SMALL GLASSES of WHISKEY (each LABELED) lined up on it.
HANDSOME WAITER
(of the WHISKEY FLIGHT)
May I describe the selection?
THE EXPERT
By the time you finished, they'd
already be gone.
HANDSOME WAITER
Cheers.
He goes. The Expert takes up the 1st glass. She knocks
that shot back, savors it briefly.
THE EXPERT
Don't tell me you won't imbibe
either?
(more)
CONTINUED
101.
THE EXPERT (CONT.)
THE EXPERT (CONT.)
(off his stare, wryly)
Of course you won't. Christ.
She places the empty glass in its spot on the plank.
THE EXPERT
For what it's worth... I never
would have involved your female
friend. What happened to her, I
had nothing to...
(pause)
I objected to his methods, and
told him so. But you've seen for
yourself how receptive he...
(pause)
You get a name. You get an
address. Nothing personal. We've
all h ad to work through the
occasional civilian who's stood
between eyes and the prize.
(sighing, pause)
I still prefer the pretense that
there's some... code of conduct,
even amongst butchers.
She's studying The Killer all the while.
THE EXPERT
A true samurai can spot another
from a great distance. You and
I... we're practicing tongue and
groove carpentry. While everyone
else uses sledgehammers to drive
30-penny nails. I know you hear
me. I know you're listening.
She looks out the PARTONS in the restaurant.
THE EXPERT
Can't pretend anymore, either. We
share that too. Once you've been
the wolf... you can't rejoin the
herd.
She picks up the 2nd glass of the flight.
THE EXPERT
Here's to us.
She CLINKS the 2nd glass against the empty, then throws
back the 2nd. She puts 2nd glass back on the plank.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
102.
THE EXPERT
When I started... I was surprised
by what I was capable of. How
easy it was. Shockingly. And
yet... I assured myself there were
things I simply would not...?
Lines I swore never to cross.
The Killer glances to her, looks away. She noticed.
THE EXPERT
Money was motivation. Which, once
there was enough, could be used to
buy another life. Another lie we
told ourselves.
The Killer is doin g something we've rarely seen him do,
which is stare off, seemingly lost in some contemplation.
THE EXPERT
When, for example, was the last
time you bothered wondering why
someone in your sights was so
thoroughly despised?
THE KILLER
Less you know the better.
The Killer does hear her in there.
THE EXPERT
One man's cruelty is another man's
pragmatism; blah, blah, blah.
(pause, clears
her throat)
A hu nter goes into the woods...
and spies an enormous grizzly --
biggest he's ever seen.
The Killer looks, raising an eyebrow. She just goes on.
THE EXPERT
The hunter raises his rifle and
fires. The bear falls. The
hunter gives chase, but to his
surprise, he finds no blood, no
broken twigs. The bear's nowhere
to be found. Suddenly... from
behind, the grizzly throws a
massive arm around the hunter an d
explains: "You took your shot.
You missed. So, now I either
feast, or... I sodomize you.
(more)
CONTINUED
103.
THE EXPERT (CONT.)
The choice is yours." Naturally
the hunter chooses life. Next
day, the hunter returns to the
woods. He's brought a much more
powerful rifle. The hunter sees
this bear in the distance. Aims,
fires, and charges headlong to
where the grizzly was felled...
only, again, he finds: no bear.
The hunter's in disbelief, when
the grizzly appears beside him
saying: "You know the deal."
Indignity ensues. The following
day, the hunter treks back into
the forest, armed with a bazooka.
He spots the grizzly, lines him in
his crosshairs and fires. The
recoil of the bazooka knocks the
hunter backwards. When the smoke
clears and the hunter's regained
his senses, he finds the grizzly
standing over him, his arms
crossed. And the bear squints:
"You're not really out here for
the hunting, are you?"
The Killer can't help something resembling a smile.
The Expert, pleased, picks up the 3rd shot.
The Killer watches her drink. She tilts her head back;
letting herself feel the effects.
THE EXPERT
You could have made this hit-and-
run; a car-jacking gone wrong.
Could have been I slipped on the
ice, easily. Instead... here you
are. If I were to scream, well...
I'd still end up dead. And you'd
make it out, most likely. But not
clean, you wouldn't.
She's watching for him to...
THE EXPERT
So, why...? Why did you take such
a risk?
THE KILLER
Conversation?
THE EXPERT
I'm flattered, but... no. No,
you're here because...
CONTINUED
104.
...for him to... take the bait.
THE EXPERT
...you couldn't help yourself.
The Killer looks to her. She meets his gaze.
The Killer's unblinking eyes watch her.
She smiles smugly at him.
THE EXPERT
You expected you'd sit looking at
me tonight and be nothing but
reassured.
(pause)
Like you were so certain, one
recent day...? When you
shouldered your weapon...
(pause)
...and somehow... missed.
The Killer se ems, at long last, disquieted.
She reaches to place the two stacked shot glasses side by
side. She opens the bottle... pours into both glasses.
THE EXPERT
One doesn't choose our line of
work without giving "the end" due
consideration.
(pause)
So, how's it possible, having
prepared myself for this moment...
I somehow fooled myself into
believing it would never arrive?
She's shaking her head sadly at thi s.
She reaches to place one glass in front of The Killer.
THE EXPERT
Allow me to share an intuition.
Since, sooner or later, it'll be
you sitting where I am now.
The Expert drops an ICE CUBE in the other glass, in front
of her, and it overflows a bit.
THE EXPERT
My advice to you: believe it.
With that, The Expert, allows herself to lift the last
shot. She drinks. She places the shot glass upside down
on the table just as Handsome Waiter returns.
CONTINUED
105.
HANDSOME WAITER
How are we?
THE EXPERT
We're done. Thanks.
(waves a hand)
Take everything.
HANDSOME WAITER
Excellent.
He starts collecting entrée dishes.
The Killer takes the shot in front of him and drinks --
throwing it back.
THE EXPERT
They don't happen to have any ice
cream back there, do they, Carl?
HANDSOME WAITER
Oh. Were you... interested in
seeing a dessert menu?
THE EXPERT
No. No... that's alright.
A BUSBOY and RUNNER arrive to assist Handsome Waiter,
clearing plates from the miserable couple before them.
CUT TO:
EXT. MAIN STREET - RESTAURANT - NIGHT
313 313
From a FIXED VANTAGE POINT: we look back across the
bridge as The Expert and The Killer head this direction
from the restaurant. The Killer walks just behind her,
keeping his hand in his pocket, close but not too close.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Stick to the plan. Anticipate;
don't improvise. Trust no --
THE EXPERT
Are we there yet?
The Expert's a little unsteady, carrying a TAKE-OUT BAG.
THE EXPERT
(glancin g back)
No? Further along, then...?
They're now crossing the bridge. The Killer keeps her a
CONTINUED
106.
few paces ahead still, keeping an eye on her.
THE EXPERT
Last minutes... spent aware that
they're actually last minutes...
I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.
As they reach the gap between fencing and bridge rail,
The Expert abruptly stops and wheels. The Killer halts.
THE EXPERT
Who -- come to think of it -- at
this moment, is you.
The Killer points to the gap, which The Expert regards.
The Expert has no recourse. TOSSING the leftovers over
her shoulder, she heads into the gap, down an embankment
towards the SOUND OF RUSHING WATER. The Killer glances
quickly around, follows her.
EXT. CREEKBED - NIGHT
314 314
Walking a narrow DIRT PATH to the lower CREEKBANK, The
Expert looks back at The Killer, who nods her onward.
The Killer is keeping The Expert a few paces ahead of
him. She moves slowly along the edge of the CREEK. From
the dark, she looks up and across to...
...the warm GLOW from the restaurant LIGHTS above them.
She raises her voice back over her shoulder to him.
THE EXPERT
You'll remember our co nversation.
You will.
She trips up a bit on the rocky, uneven footing.
The Killer still has his hand in his pocket.
THE EXPERT
When your time does arrive... it
won't be your life flashing before
your eyes -- it'll be mine.
(laughs)
I suppose it'll be the closest I
can hope to come to haunting you.
The Expert gives a CRY as she TRIPS, falling forward to
her hands and knees. The Killer stops.
CONTINUED
107.
With an exasperated exhalation, The Expert straightens,
kneeled, and thrusts her right arm back without looking.
THE EXPERT
Help a girl up, won't you?
Her right hand is extended, reaching...
The Expert turns to look as The Killer moves forward.
Instead of offering his hand, The Killer's pulling his
gun and --POOF -- SHOOTS The Expert in the temple,
sending her down in bent heap; instantly dead.
The Kill er steps up, ROLLS The Expert's corpse over on
the pebbled creek bank...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Trust no one.
...to see that The Expert held a deadly-looking, open
SWITCHBLADE, in her left hand.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
This is what it takes... if you
want to succeed.
The Killer takes out his HANDKERCHIEF, uses it take and
examine the switchblade. He closes the switchblade, then
TOSSES it away. The Killer looks down, noticing...
The Expert's blouse has lost a button and pulled open,
exposing her lacy BRA.
The Killer kneels, reaches to...
Close The Expert's blouse.
The Killer rises, looking upon The Expert's body for a
moment. Then, he walks, back the way they came.
CUT TO:
INSERT -- CLOSE-UP:
315 315
ON PHONE SCREEN: the benday dot IMAGE of a handsome,
smiling, 30-something HENDERSON CLAYBOURNE, from an old
NEWSPAPER ARTICLE about "ENTREPRENEURIAL SPIRIT."
INT. PLANE - NY TO MIDWEST - IN FLIGHT - NIGHT
316 316
In COACH, like most EVERYONE around him, The Killer has
his head down and his face lit by SCREEN GLOW. He sips
from his collapsible CUP.
CONTINUED
108.
INSERT: THE KILLER'S HAND places his PHONE on the TRAY
TABLE, beside where his THREE ROLODEX CARDS are... the
TOP CARD featuring HENDERSON CLAYBOURNE's INFORMATION.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Risky, this one. Considering how
cops tend to match their effort in
direct proportion to the victim's
net worth.
ON HIS PHONE: beneath the GOOGLE IMAGE search of
"henderson claybourne," The Killer SCROLLS... to VARIOUS
other PHOTOS of HENDERSON: posing with various WOMEN
before FUNDRAISER SPONSOR BANNERS... wielding SCISSORS at
a HOSPITAL RIBBON CUTTING... featured in a "TECH BOOM
GURU" COVER from "FAST COMPANY." Plenty of 30, 40 and 50-
something Claybourne successful and philanthropic.
The Killer brings up ONE ARTICLE...
"CLAYBOURNE PAYS RECORD SUM FOR CHI-TOWN PENTHOUSE."
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Fuck it.
CUT TO:
OMITTED
317 317
OMITTED
318 318
EXT. WELL-TO-DO CHICAGO NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY
319 319
The Killer exits Starbucks, sipping a COFFEE.
He looks up noticing...
Across the street from a secure PARKING GARAGE, a
MERCEDES SEDAN pulls out. It waits for cross traffic.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
The thing about real wealth: the
more you've got, the harder it is
to fade into the wallpaper.
POV:
The Killer glances down at the CARD he holds.
CLOSE ON:
Claybourne, HENDERSON
450 E. Wallace Ave./ PH
Chicago, IL 60654
CONTINUED
109.
THE KILLER'S POV:
Takes in the Mercedes' vanity LICENSE PLATE, "CLYBORN."
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Of course... vanity plates don't
help.
ON THE STREET
The Mercedes cruises around the block.
The Killer walks, following on foot.
EXT. CONDO SKYSCRAPER - ENTRANCE SIDE - MORNING
319A 319A
The Killer arrives curbside to watch - the idling sedan
waits, but not long - as the revolving door spits out a
distinguished looking, 60-something HENDERSON CLAYBOURNE.
He's wearing a TRACK SUIT and carrying a "BALI-QUINOX"
GYM BAG, making a beeline for the Mercedes.
The Killer focused as...
Claybourne is in the car before the apologetic DRIVER is
able to get the door. Claybourne trundles in. The
Driver hurriedly jumps behind the wheel. DRIVES OFF.
The Killer takes out his PHONE.
Discards his cup in a GARBAGE CAN, types...
CLOSE UP:
ON HIS PHONE:"BALI-QUINOX" in the "search" BOX of GOOGLE
MAPS. He thumb-taps one; the nearest "BALI-QUINOX."
CUT TO:
EXT. CONDO SKYSCRAPER - GARAGE SIDE - MORNING
320 320
The Killer returns to the PARKING STRUCTURE. A CAR
exits. The Killer assesses the RAMP.
He wanders up into the dark garage.
INT. GARAGE - STAIRWELL - MORNING
321 321
The Killer looks around. No cameras. He casually winds
his way up the ramp - his eyes finding a DOUBLE SECURITY
DOOR with a plastic KEY CARD READER. The Killer moves to
inspect - noting the make and model...
OMITTED
322 322
110.
EXT. CONDO SKYSCRAPER - SIDEWALK - GARAGE SIDE - MORNING
323 323
The Killer emerges from the ramp, exiting the GARAGE.
He takes out his PHONE.
He quickly types, bring up a WEBSITE...
IN CLOSE UP:
..."AMAZON.COM."
OMITTED
324 324
EXT. MIDWESTERN CITY, "BALI-QUINOX" GYM - MORNING
324A 324A
The Killer arrives. He spots the "BALI-QUINOX" logo...
...where a few GYM FOLKS come and go from the COMPLEX.
The Killer sees...
POV:
The Mercedes sedan is parked in a yellow LOADING ZONE.
DRIVER inside. Its BLINKERS BLINK. Its EXHAUST puffs.
ON THE STREET
Reassured, The Killer walks on...
THE KILLER (V.O.)
I don't think this guy's Mossad.
I know he ain't Mensa.
...striding right past the Mercedes, w here THE DRIVER'S
reading a NEWSPAPER.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Good luck with the "Wordle."
EXT. MIDWESTERN CITY - GYM, RECEPTION -- MORNING
324B 324B
The Killer takes in the upscale scene. Mostly young and
somewhat healthy MEN and WOMEN crisscross in WORK-OUT
GEAR. A JANITOR, as-nattily-clad-as-you-can-get-in-
COVERALLS, moves past, pushing a modest CART.
The Killer goes to GUEST RECEPTION, where lovely and
handsome GREETERS assist MEMBERS. There's a COUNTER with
TOUCH SCREENS awaiting. The Killer uses the conductive
RUBBER TIP of his NO-TO UCH-TOOL on one SCREEN...
CONTINUED
111.
...pressing "TRIAL MEMBERSHIP."
CUT TO:
EXT. MIDWESTERN CITY - CITY NATIONAL BANK - DAY
324C 324C
Financial District. The Killer, in his HAT and
SUNGLASSES, walks... into "CITY NATIONAL."
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Loose ends can't be left to
dangle. Farewell, North America.
Nice knowing ya.
INT. MIDWESTERN CITY - CITY NATL BANK - MGR OFFICE - DAY 324D
324D
The Killer, HAT in hand literally, waits in a CHAIR, an
untouched TRAY of DANISH and FRENCH PRESS POT of COFFEE
before him on the DESK of a bespectacled, FEMALE MANAGER
typing on her COMPUTER.
INSERT: THE KILLER'S HAND puts a PEN to PAPERWORK made
out in the name "GEORGE JEFFERSON," writes INITIALS "G J"
in two spots, before signing: "GEORGE JEFFERSON."
CITY NATL MANAGER
And... dotting that "I," and if I
might just get you crossing that
"T"...
(finishes TYPING)
Your accounts with us are
officially closed, with everything
transferred to your Caribbean
account.
The Killer rises. Manager stands as well, smiling.
CITY NATL MANAGER
I do hope we may be of service
again in the near future, Mr.
Jefferson. May I mention, our
wealth management advisors would
be more than happy to discuss our
more "select" investment
opportunities.
She extends her hand. The Killer gives a limp handshake.
C UT TO:
OMITTED
325 325
112.
EXT. MIDWESTERN CITY, BENEATH OVERPASS -- EVENING
326 326
Between massive ROADWAY COLUMNS, a DUDE in a BEARS BEANIE
and mismatched SPORTSCOAT and SLACKS heads down a
decrepit, twisting STAIRCASE, The Killer following.
EXT. BENEATH OVERPASS, EMPTY LOT -- EVENING
327 327
AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS, THE SALESMAN'S SUV is parked
nearby in this trash strewn, no man's land.
THE SALESMAN uses KEYS at the SUV lift-gate.
THE SALESMAN
Sticks sometimes. You gotta...
jiggle it.
The Killer watches. The Salesman steps back, raising the
lift-gate to reveal an AMERICAN FLAG spread out across
the SUV's rear interior.
THE SALESMAN
Our democracy at work.
He throws the flag back: unveil ing various GUNS laid out.
Mostly HANDGUNS, but also a couple of RIFLES.
THE SALESMAN
Browning. Smith & Wesson. Colt.
If you don't see what you want, I
can get it.
The Killer steps up to study the selection.
His eyes survey the various REVOLVERS and AUTOMATICS.
THE SALESMAN
What's your pleasure? A twenty-
two? Which, you know, won't do
much more than make the other
guy's ears ring. Maybe a gut -
ripper thirty-eight, or...?
(pointing)
There's always the Desert Eagle,
if you're looking for something
relatively portable to drop an
elk. She's a beauty.
The Killer takes up a GLOCK, pops the CLIP, flicks the
STOP, pulls back the SLIDE; confirms it's empty.
He blows into it, examines.
THE SALESMAN
Man knows his way around the Glock
sub-compacts.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
113.
He reconfigures the gun, replaces it. Picks up another
GLOCK, feels its weight. The Salesman watches, takes off
his hat and scratches his rubber-banded man bun.
He takes a SILENCER from his pocket, which makes The
Salesman's eyebrows rise.
THE SALESMAN
And brings his own patato. Niice.
He screws it onto the barrel of the small auto.
The Salesman pulls his beanie back on.
THE SALESMAN
(gesturing to GU NS)
Listen, Slim, here's what I can
do. Because I like you. Buy one,
and the second gun -- same price
or less -- is half-off.
He turns and extends his arm to hold up the silencer-
adorned Glock, aiming into surrounding darkness --
looking down the gun's sights.
THE KILLER
This is plenty.
CUT TO:
OMITTED
328 328
OMITTED
329 329
OMITTED
330 330
EXT. MIDWESTERN CITY, SIDE STREET/AMAZON LOCKERS- MORNING 331
331
Barely light out. The Killer strides towards a WALL of
YELLOW LOCKERS, with their familiar AMAZON SIGNAGE.
He uses his No-Touch-Tool to PUNCH in a CODE.
He crouches at LOCKER "13," opens it.
Takes out a small AMAZON BOX.
The Killer rips the box open... examines what he ordered:
a handheld RFID CARD DUPLICATOR, looking like some sort
of cheap, weird stud-finder, packaged along with a few
blank KEY FOBS and RFID CARDS.
CUT TO:
OMITTED
332 332
114.
OMITTED
333 333
OMITTED
334 334
OMITTED
335 335
INT. MIDWESTERN CITY - "BALI-QUINOX" GYM - RECEPTION -
336 336
MORNING
The Killer brings up and shows a QR CODE on his PHONE to
the athletic FEMALE GREETER at the FRONT DESK.
INSERT: On FEMALE GREETER'S COMPUTER SCREEN: there's an
IMAGE of a DRIVER'S LICENSE for "ROBERT HARTLEY" with THE
KILLER'S PICTURE on it, beside "ROBERT HARTLEY"
MEMBERSHIP INFO.
FEMALE GREETER
(SCANS code, reading)
Welcome, Mr. ...HARTLEY. Your
first time with us, I see. Have
an excellent workout .
INT. GYM -- MORNING
336A 336A
The Killer, still in street clothes and carrying his
JACKET, walks thru. His eyes search the room.
Amongst the rows of seemingly endless TREADMILLS and
STATIONARY BIKES, the Janitor's crossing.
The Killer tracks him.
Janitor's stopping to collect crumpled PAPER CUPS around
a WATER COOLER. He says hello to some MEMBERS, but seems
pretty checked-out.
What's of particular interest to The Killer...
...is the zip-line clipped ORANGE KEYCARD on Janitor's
belt, beside the laden KEYCHAIN hooked to it.
INT. GYM - MEN'S BATHROOM/SHOWERS -- MORNING
336B 336B
A few MEMBERS exit. Janitor enters with his CART.
The Killer follows, then crosses to a far SINK.
Pretending to wash his hands, The Killer watches in the
MIRROR as Janitor begins CLEANING at a middle SINK.
The Killer wipes his hands on a TOWEL, tosses it, makes
his move... heading back and approaching the Janitor from
behind. The Killer passes close enough to...
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
115.
...grab the ORANGE KEYCARD, pulling it away on Janitor's
zip-cord just far enough to...
IN CLOSE UP:
...TWIST the keycard, SNAPPING it free.
IN THE BATHROOM
The Killer feigns surprise, pretending the JACKET he's
carrying has snagged the zip-cord.
THE KILLER
Oh -- sorry...
Janitor glances over his shoulder as the zip-cord zips
back in place, now empty. The Killer backs away, holds
his jacket up with an a pologetic smile, keeps going.
JANITOR
No problem. Yeah.
Janitor goes about his business, unaware.
CUT TO:
INT. GYM - LOCKER RM - MORNING
337 337
The Killer enters...
MEN are dressing, undressing, heading for the SHOWERS.
In one AISLE, The Killer spots Claybourne.
The Killer sits on a BENCH, keeping his distance. At an
OPEN LOCKER, Claybourne is attended to by his MALE
TRAINER as Claybourne sheds his TRACK SUIT, in GYM
CLOTHES and SNEAKERS underneath. Claybourne's Trainer
folds the suit, places it in the locker.
Trainer hands over a WATER BOTTLE from the gym bag, puts
the bag in the locker. Claybourne's already heading
out... passing behind The Killer, who looks as...
...Trainer shuts the locker, goes to follow Claybourne.
The Killer faces forward. Gathers himself. Stands.
CUT TO:
INT. GYM - LOCKER RM - MORNING
337A 337A
The Killer holds the purloined KEYCARD to the KEYCARD
READER of Claybourne's locker which... UNLOCKS.
CONTINUED
116.
The Killer grabs Claybourne's KEYCHAIN with KEYCARD
attached. SLAMS the locker.
INT. GYM - COFFEE CAFE AREA - MORNING
338 338
Amongst other MEMBERS, The Killer is seated in a CAFE
that looks out into the vast GYM:
BEYOND:
...Claybourne's TREADMILLING, perspiring.
Trainer gives encouragement and motivation.
IN THE CAFE
Working at a side-table in the lounge, The Killer takes
his newly acquired RFID CARD DUPLICATOR from his pocket
and inserts Claybourne's KEYCARD into a slot.
He presses "READ." "BUSY" glows YELLOW.
BEYOND:
Cl aybourne speaks to Trainer. Trainer offers a TOWEL,
which Claybourne accepts and uses to daub his face.
IN THE CAFE
The Killer takes a blank RFID KEYCARD from his pocket,
puts it between his teeth as he watches.
The duplicator LIGHTS. "PASS." The Killer removes
Claybourne's keycard and keychain. He shoves the blank
KEYCARD in the duplicator's slot.
Hits the "WRITE" BUTTON.
He awaits the result. S eems to take forever.
The duplicator's "PASS" light goes GREEN.
CUT TO:
INT. GYM - LOCKER RM - MORNING
339 339
The Killer opens Claybourne's locker, throws Claybourne's
KEYCHAIN with KEYCARD in. Elbow-SLAMS the locker shut.
INT. GYM - RECEPTION -- MORNING
339A 339A
The Killer walks to the exit. On his way, unnoticed by
busy GREETERS, he places the ORANGE KEYCARD on the edge
of the reception DESK, walking onward, not looking back.
CUT TO:
117.
EXT. CONDO SKYSCRAPER - GARAGE RAMP - NIGHT
340 340
GARAGE DOOR's open as a DELIVERY DRIVER exits.
The Killer arrives, walks into the GARAGE.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Who needs a Trojan Horse when
you've got Postmates? 'Cause
everything's air-tight, till the
billionaire wants Thai delivered.
INT. GARAGE - 3RD FLOOR - NIGHT
341 341
The Killer retraces his earlier route, up the ramp.
ANGLE ON:
He steps into CLOSE-UP, pressing a KEYCARD against the
SECURITY DOOR's grey plastic reader -- BOOP.
INT. GARAGE - ELEVATOR - NIGHT
342 342
The Killer steps inside, holds his KEYCARD to the READER
on the elevator PANEL. A quiet DING acknowledges.
The Killer's NO-TOUCH-TOOL hits "PH." BUTTON LIGHTS UP.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Once I see his eyes, I'll have a
pretty good idea how this is gonna
go.
CUT TO:
INT. CONDO SKYSCRAPER PENTHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
343 343
Entering from a long HALLWAY, The Killer walks to stand,
silenced GUN held outstretched...
...a vast, multi-storied PENTHOUSE before him. Enormous
WINDOWS look to a glittering CITYSCAPE. At the center of
it all, is an unmanned, MAGAZINE and NEWSPAPER littered
STANDING DESK with several KEYBOARDS before an array of
FLAT SCREENS crazily alive with colorful day-trader
MARKET INFO and NATIONAL NEWS.
T he Killer walks calmly through this space, attentive.
Across the room, Claybourne comes padding in through a
gleaming KITCHENETTE. He's wearing a big KNIT CARDIGAN
and RETRO CONCERT TEE. He speaks into a BLUETOOTH
EARPIECE, carries an open CARTON of SOY MILK.
CONTINUED
118.
CLAYBOURNE
(into BLUETOOTH HEADSET)
There must be some applicable tax
burden offset, and I simply expect
to see heaven and earth moving...
(brief pause)
...hey...hey, if it doesn't work
out, believe me, I'm not going to
be disappointed in you, I'll be
disappointed in me, and everyone
involved for not having replaced
you sooner.
Claybourne halts, startled to as he sees The Killer.
He does a bewildered double take.
CLAYBOURNE
(to The Killer)
Who the fuck? How did you...?
The Killer doesn't brandish his gun, just aims it at him.
CLAYBOURNE
Okay. I...I...
(into EARPIECE)
I'll call you back,
Marvin... umm...gotta call back,
Mar... I am fucking hanging up.
Claybourne presses his earpiece's BUTTON to hang up.
CLAYBOURNE
(gesturing to GUN)
Didn't notice the.. ah, at first.
I'm all ears.
(points at his EARPIECE )
I'm--you see; so you don't...
With forefinger and thumb, he makes a show of slowly
reaching to take the EARPIECE out. He throws it away,
holds his hands up, awkwardly.
CLAYBOURNE
Security building, eh? Christmas
Bonus'll be light this year.
I... uh... I...
(glancing around)
Don't keep cash here. But I can
have some delivered. Depending on
what amount we're talking about,
what kind of currency you'r e--
The Killer's shaking his head.
CONTINUED
119.
CLAYBOURNE
No? Okay. Well... then, what is
it exactly I can do for you?
The Killer nods towards a SEATING AREA.
Claybourne sits on the L-shaped COUCH.
CLAYBOURNE
Whatever you need... I'm confident
we can work it out; we put our
heads together.
The Killer stands across from him. He motions with his
weapon for Claybourne to lower his hands.
THE KILLER
I came to show you how easily one
might get to you, Mr.
Claybourne... and to ask...
(pointedly)
...do you and I have a problem?
CLAYBOURNE
Do... we... what? A problem? Of
course not. No. You and I... we
have no problem whatsoever. Not
in the slightest.
(pause, admitting doubt)
Am I... supposed to know who you
are. Because, I apologize -- and
my memory for names and faces
isn't what it used to be -- but
I... don't believe we've met.
The Killer ta kes out his PHONE with his free hand,
unlocks it, thumb-types. Then he steps forward, holds up
his phone. Claybourne squints at the GOOGLE MAPS IMAGE.
CLAYBOURNE
(of the MAP on the PHONE)
Alright. It's...there's an
address. "3 Rue du Grev" -- I...
I'm still not...
Then Claybourne realizes.
CLAYBOURNE
Oh. Oh, wait... that...
(looks from the PHONE to
the Killer's face)
You.
Uh oh.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
120.
CLAYBOURNE
I didn't realize, but I'm up to
speed. Please, hear me out. To
answer your question, we have no
problem. I harbor no ill will
about anything that may have
happened. Or NOT happened. Hah.
Let me make that crystal clear.
Right after the, uh, incident, I
received a phone call. I was told
that things had... gone south. My
response was, actually, "Well,
nobody's perfect." Now on that
same call, I did, I admit, inquire
as to what is normally done in
these circumstances and they, he,
the lawyer fella, Hedges suggested
that in This Very Rare Case, I
might wish to arrange for
insurance, to prevent any
"blowback."
The Killer takes this in.
CLAYBOURNE
I remember thinking, "Why in the
world is this liability mine?" I
mean, you have to please
understand, this entire enter.. I
was very new to this kind of
thing, this was an investment that
didn't pay out, I bled a little
ink, so yeah, selfishly, I didn't
want any..."blowback", so
eventually we agreed that for an
additional hundred and fifty K,
the, uh, trail, could be
"scrubbed." That was literally
all I was told; "clean up on aisle
three", HIS words, not MINE, and
so I double-checked to make sure
there was enough in escr ow, and I
never thought about it again,
until...
(indicates this moment)
What I'm trying to say here and I
can't express this strongly
enough: I have NO issue with you.
Zero. Far as I'm concerned: We.
Are. Good.
The Killer ponders, gun still leveled at Claybourne.
CONTINUED
121.
THE KILLER
I'm curious... how is it that I
walked into your home in the
middle of the night with a
silenced pistol... and you had no
idea why I might be here?
Claybourne considers for a beat. With the merest shake
of his head, he looks to The Killer, raises his hands
palms up, giving a slow, sheepish, at-a-loss SHRUG.
The Killer lowers the gun. He turns and crosses back the
way he came, pocketing the weapon. Claybourne, remaining
seated, is watching him go.
The Killer stops. He remains facing away.
Claybourne's eyes are anxiously on The Killer.
THE KILLER
If there is a next time...
The Killer turns back, looking to Claybourne.
THE KILLER
...it may be a radioactive speck
on the lip of your favorite mug --
a slow death, mind you; from
painful, facial necrosis... or a
misstep into an empty express
elevator shaft... or an electrical
fire while asleep, but...
(pause)
...I do promise, I'll come up with
something appropriate.
With that, The Killer is gone.
CUT TO:
INT. CONDO SKYSCRAPER - ELEVATOR - NIGHT
343A 343A
THE KILLER'S HAND takes from his pocket the THREE ROLODEX
CARDS, holds them before him... TEARS the CARDS in HALF.
EXT. CONDO SKYSCRAPER - STREETS - NIGHT
344 344
The Killer exits from the PARKING RAMP, shuts it. We
watch him walking away. Far up the street, a hulking,
noisy STREET CLEANER lumbers slowly along in the opposite
direction, its circular, spinning WIRE BRUSHES kicking
dust and a fine mist of water in the vehicle's wake. As
he goes, The Killer takes his PHONE from his pocket.
CONTINUED
CONTINUED
122.
Just as the street cleaner's getting closer, he casually
CHUCKS his phone (and Rolodex cards) into the street; in
the vehicle's path. The street cleaner gobbles the phone
up. The Killer keeps walking.
CUT TO:
INT. KILLER'S ESTATE HOUSE, KITCHEN -CLOSE-UPS - LATE DAY 345
345
IN DELICATE CLOSE-UPS:
-The Killer uses a PARING KNIFE to artfully cut a long,
thin, curling SLIVER of LEMON PEEL from a LEMON.
-He slides forward the handle of a COFFEE GRINDER,
releasing finely ground COFFEE into a PORTAFILTER.
-He takes up a gleaming, SILVER TAMPER, which he uses to
firmly tamp the COFFEE flat in the PORTAFILTER.
-He fits the PORTAFILTER to the ESPRESSO MACHINE's GROUP
HEAD and twists to secure it in place.
-A narrow, steady STREAM of CARAMEL COLORED COFFEE pours
down from the mouth of the PORTAFILTER, filling a SMALL,
flawless white ESPRESSO CUP on the DRIP TRAY.
-The Killer places the CUP on its SAUCER, then balances
the LEMON PEEL SLIVER on the cup's lip so it rests
partially on the coffee's surface.
INT. ESTATE HOUSE, KITCHEN -- LATE DAY
346 346
The Killer places this perfect ESPRESSO ROMANO on a
SERVING TRAY, beside a folded CLOTH NAPKIN and several
small COOKIES on a WHITE DISH. He lifts the tray.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
The need to feel... secure. It's
a slippery slope.
The Killer (in SHORTS, short-sleeved-BUTTON DOWN and
SUNGLASSES) crosses the lovely, spotless KITCHEN.
INT. ESTATE HOUSE, LIVING ROOM -- LATE DAY
347 347
The Killer carries the tray thru. This room, like the
rest of the breathtaking home, is entirely restored.
EXT. ESTATE HOUSE, BACK YARD-POOL/BEACH AREA -- LATE DAY
348 348
The Killer crosses from the house...
Heading for a grouping of LOUNGE FURNITURE which faces
the BEACH, not far beyond, and stunning SKIES.
CONTINUED
123.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Fate... is a placebo. The only
life path... the one behind you.
AT THE LOUNGE AREA
Magdala, in a CHAISE, looks up as The Killer places the
serving tray on a TABLE. She's in LOUNGE WEAR, a LONG
ROBE, and still some BANDAGES. As she smiles at The
Killer -- accepting the espresso he offers -- the large
SUNGLASSES she wears can't hide the swollen and
discolored, albeit healing, co ndition of her face.
The Killer sits in the ocean-facing CHAIR beside
Magdala's. He observes as Magdala, watching waves
advance and retreat, sips the dainty coffee.
The Killer sits back, faces front; takes in the view.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
If, in the brief time we're all
given, you can't accept this...
well, maybe you're not one of the
few.
He keeps peering seaward, wearing his usual expression of
em pty resolve. The sun glints off his sunglasses.
He takes off his sunglasses, keeps staring forward.
It's very hard not to notice, as he's staring for the
longest moment, that he does not blink -- not once.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
Maybe you're just like me...
Until, finally, with sunny skies reflected in those
steadfast, impossibly-UNBLINKING EYES, The Killer's RIGHT
EYE trembles, TWITCHING sharply.
THE KILLER (V.O.)
...one of the many.
Here we leave The Killer and Magdala, peacefully
together, facing a vision of a seemingly perfect world; a
flawless line of wide, sandy beach, beyond which the
slightly curvin g horizon line of sun-dappled water meets
azure skies of blindingly white clouds.
THE END
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