| An Excerpt of the Screenplay 4th Draft WGA# 544260 WRITTEN BY: ROBERT F. STEWART II & DARIN KUHLMANN PROPERTY/COPYRIGHT OF: DARIN KUHLMANN & ROBERT F. STEWART II CONTACT: Robert Stewart, Producer [email protected] FADE UP EXT. CENTCOM SUNSET The setting sun's last rays dance on the low mountains, plunging the valley floor into premature twilight shadow. The sheer dimensions of the cityscape and skyline are awe-inspiring. Miles and miles of seething neon structure stretch in every direction. Massive satellite dishes and gritty towers that stand 100 to 200 stories tall. Helo-pad structures punch upward into the sky every few miles, each one covered by groups of ships that look vaguely like predatorial insects. The architecture of these giant structures is vaguely crustacean and lined with crenellated jet-black tubes of mechanical viscera. In the center of the valley we see one building that stands above all else. A five hundred story obelisk of terrifying proportions; black, gray, chrome, and yellow; colors laced through the structure with the intricacy of a living thing. Airborne above the sprawl, we fly� FLYING VIEW TITLES THROUGH ATMOSPHERE OF CENTCOM CITY STREETS TITLES FLY TO� TITLES ATMOSPHERE NETSEC SECURITY FORCES MOVING INTO ATTACK POSITIONS ALONG CRAMPED STREETS, AND ALLEYS. A BOOTED FOOT SPLASHES THROUGH POTHOLE. RIPPLE� FLASH! MAIN TITLE psychotrope BACK GROUND DISSOLVES INTO INT. FUTURE BAR EVENING MAIN TITLE FADES This bar is a dive. Definitely not an "in-crowd" joint. Bruising young cruisers, shadow types and party freaks are lured to its trough not to drink and be seen, but to handle business. People die down here, and to stay alive these people know how to keep to the shadows. This �Bar� exists in the middle of the lowest levels of CENTCOM. An area called UNDERDOWN. The sign on the wall reveals the name of the place: UNDERDOWN CAF�. Low volume Sitar music, and dim lights. A skinny, old Asian man, named WU PANG is serving drinks at the long, dented chrome bar. The Camera drifts towards the back booth, beside an out of order videophone and a bathroom with no door. Jack's booth. And here he sits: JACK TRAMMET, long dark hair, pulled into a top knot, two input sockets on the right side of his neck just below his ear, 30-35 years of age and tattooed down the right side of his good-looking, but lived in face. WU PANG serves Jack steaming hot coffee, as a Para-Military type is seating himself on the other side of Jack�s booth. The man outweighs Jack by forty pounds. Muscular, crewcut, and nervous. This is KREIG. With a sidelong glance, Kreig slides a black box across the table to Jack. CUT TO EXT. BAR-NETSEC SECURITY FORCES MOVING INTO POSITION CUT TO INT. BAR-SAME Jack opens the box and takes a quick look. He passes a small device over the box. The device displays a series of small lights that strobe red several times before turning to green. The box is then snapped closed and disappears into Jack's clothes. JACK Good Deal. Jack looks to his right. One area of the chrome half wall is suspiciously clean� and polished. In the semi-blurred reflection, we see Kreig is drawing a weapon. JACK Let me ask you something. (Beat) (Picking up coffee) You ever think about just quitting this shit? Without waiting for a reply, Jack dashes the man in the face with scalding coffee and simultaneously dives into the floor. Kreig screams, eyes closed, and fires, three times, ripping holes in Jack's now vacant seat. This is where time...slows...down. SLOW MOTION Patrons scrambling for anything to hide behind. The old Asian dives behind the bar. Kreig is shaking with rage - rising from the booth half-blind and scalded, he fires- narrowly missing Jack who is scrambling over the bar. The front windows explode inward as armored NETSEC troops fire smoke canister's into the bar. The door is kicked open and the troops move in. Jack is now over the bar and through the door. Kreig fires again (eyes open) blowing a portion of the doorframe away before giving chase. END SLOW MOTION Dazed and injured, Kreig is not graceful or quick. Bouncing down a hall, and crashing through the door into� EXT.ALLEYWAY Jack's gone. Gunfire bellows inside the building. KREIG (Winded) Goddamn! NETSEC arrives in the doorway. KREIG (To NETSEC troops) I thought you were covering all the exits! NEW ANGLE Down the alley - boots on pavement - steam rising through the grates. Out of the steam... Tall, beautiful, and black clad, MAJOR STROM appears with her personal troops. Cold is the only accurate word for her gaze. Cold and blue, like frozen steel. She scans the grating before turning her attention to Kreig. MAJOR STROM I deal out discipline in this unit Kreig. (beat) You were supposed to wound him � then interrogation could be expediently handled, before he was allowed to get back to the gutter. You have failed my Department and the Quintana Corporation as well. She's close to Kreig now, calm as a prowling tiger. KREIG Major- One swift gut punch and Kreig is retching on his knees. MAJOR STROM You had your shot at redemption- you blew it. Mr. Quintana does not like spies...At all. She takes an assault weapon from a nearby soldier. MAJOR STROM Look at me. Kreig looks up, gasping, and she blasts him into the hereafter. MAJOR STROM looks down the alley. SERGEANT Major, I can put four scarabs in the air right now and we've got a two sector radius locked down if you want to sweep the area. MAJOR STROM Oh no, Sergeant... (Tossing weapon back to soldier) I want him to dive deep, (Looking down at grates) �hook, line, and sinker. (Walking away) Mop up and get the hell out of here ASAP. Strom heads back down the alley. QUINTANA (V.O.) Good evening Major... MAJOR STROM stops at attention. MAJOR STROM Good evening, Mr. Quintana. MAJOR STROM executes a �right face� to look into a narrow dark side alley between two buildings that line the path. A faint glowing holograph stands in the gloom like the ghost of Christmas past. The holo steps out into the alley. It is the Major�s employer, Damian Quintana, CEO of the Quintana Corporation. QUINTANA I just wanted to commend you on a job well done. MAJOR STROM Thank you, sir. QUINTANA No chance they will find the alarm. MAJOR STROM No sir, It looks like an open invitation to raid TECHNOPOLIS and the core data - it will be irresistible. (Cont.) QUINTANA Very good, Major. Be sure to send a qualified team to Mr. Kreig's section at the tower. I will transmit the information to your station shortly. Those individuals TECHNOPOLIS has rated as potential co-conspirators are to be removed, with prejudice if necessary. MAJOR STROM Yes Sir. QUINTANA Goodnight, Major. MAJOR STROM Goodnight, Sir. |
| psychotrope |
| Real power is terrifying. |
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