HAVOK
A SCREENPLAY
BY
LAWRENCE PETERS
FIRST DRAFT © DECEMBER 2002
Lawrence Peters
472 sanchez street
san francisco, CA 94114
415.863.4947
(dedicated to the spirit of Trevor Goddard)
SCENE 1Interior of well-appointed office. There are two MEN sitting in leather chairs.
HAVOK
You see, Mr. Braden, this will make you one of the best wardens this state has ever seen... you will have contributed to the Federal Prison System as a whole, and cleaned up your own back yard at the same time. You'll have lowered your operating costs, while removing some of the, ah, worst elements that...
WARDEN
Yes, Yes, I understand the proposal, Mr. Havok... I just don't understand how your new system will work--
HAVOK
-- that's just it. We need the worst of the worst to point out any flaws we'll have with the new prison. That's why I'm here.
HAVOK opens a folder on the desk, and spreads out some photos contained with it.
Quick flash on the screen of various hardcore pictures of prisoners, very mug shot like.
WARDEN
I'll need some time to think this over...
HAVOK
(rising from chair, leans out and offers his card)
Take all the time you need Warden. I'll be waiting for your reply. I can tell you now you won't regret it.
HAVOK smiles-
Camera click effect sharpens on smile and HAVOK's outstretched hand.
SCENE shift to:
DESERT TOWN
A small Special Forces Army Unit. We see the smiles ringing Havok and his squad, crouched at a wall near a wrecked building.
HARRIS
But I want the point, Sir.
HAVOK
You're a point-hog, Harris. Give it a rest.
MAN TWO
No, let him have it sir. Otherwise we'll be hearing it all this trip.
MAN THREE
At least it will shut him up for a while sir.
HAVOK
OK, OK, Bruce, ya got it. Never been with a squad that loved the sharp end so much.
He holds out his fist and Bruce taps it with his own.
MAN FOUR
You picked us, sir.
HAVOK
That I did. Best of the best. Like me. All city kids, all hungry, my Dogs.
With that all the men growl low.
HAVOK
(makes finger whirling motion)
Let's move it out.
They move down the street, slowly, carefully, stopping at any noise. The walls get narrower, and they move even more cautiously.
HAVOK
Something's wrong, I can feel it. Something here is not right.
The Men freeze.
From around Havok's neck, a ring suspended there breaks free and falls to the sand.
We see it shining there.
Havok bends to pick it up.
From all around them, little holes in the wall open up and machine guns poke through and fire.
In seconds, each in his moment of returning fire, his squad is cut down.
Havok straightens up, and doors open and a crew of the enemy surround him.
With the ring plainly seen in his outstretched hand, he shows it to them.
Havok smiles and stuffs his hands into his pockets.
Slow motion. Havok has his hands still in his coat on twin Beretta M9s and opens up, killing the men at his sides first, then the ones to the left and right in front of him. The leader, in the center in front of him, goes to pull his machinegun up to fire.
Havok clears both M9s and like a gangster in a film, and walking towards him, empties the rest of his ammo into the man, tearing his chest apart.
From below, in slow motion, we see an empty clips being dropped and new ones being fed in.
From the extreme right we see a flash. It is a cameraman, a photographer taking picture after picture.
Havok is down in a combat shooting crouch and his finger is tight on the triggers.
HAVOK
What the fuck?
PHOTOMAN
(holding up a card)
Hey, hey now, I'm the Press.
Havok shoots in a line in front of the photographer, a line leading up to him in the sand.
HAVOK
And I am an angel of death. These were my men. My Dogs.
One of the enemy twitches and without taking his eyes off the Photographer, Havok shoots him in the head.
HAVOK
Now speak slowly and distinctly. What-the-fuck-are-you-doing-here?
PHOTOMAN
I'm doing my job.
HAVOK
And I'm doing mine. This area is not secure.
He gestures at the dead men around him.
HAVOK
Doing. My. Job. Were you with Them?
PHOTOMAN
Like I said I was doing my job.
HAVOK
Job.
PHOTOMAN
I cover the truth.
HAVOK
Truth. Truth. Those men these assholes just ambushed were more truth than you'll ever see with that thing. The truth might set you free, but I... oh fuck it. I'm tired. I'm done with all this. I'm going home.
HAVOK turns and walks away, back to his men... he kneels next to Harris, and takes his hand. His head hangs. He is done.
CUT TO:
CITY STREET
We see HAVOK on a windy rainy street, a newspaper in his hand, with the picture of him blowing away the leader in a spray of bullets. Some lurid headline. Below are pictures of the men in his squad, and we see him smile at them as his lips read off their names, his fingers touching the grainy newspaper pictures, one by one. With a finger he touches their faces. We then see him ball it up and throw it in a garbage pail, and pull his jacket tight around him...
SCENE 2
OUTSIDE THE PRISON GATES
HAVOK gets into waiting limo.
DRIVER looks back in mirror and smiles as HAVOK gets in.
HAVOK smiles back.
HAVOK
Looks like another fish hooked, Harry. He has his doubts, but who could resist me? Getting rid of your biggest problems and looking good doing it? He's not that dumb... he'll go for it.
DRIVER
So where next?
HAVOK
(looks at watch)
We could be in Texas in a few hours... Let's go for number four on our list.
(Opens folder)
Some real doozys in Texas... must be the climate.
DRIVER
You really think this is going to work, Boss?
HAVOK
Sure, why not? And if it doesn't, what will we have lost? A couple of crazies that shouldn't even still be on the planet, some money and a little time. A noble cause has no end, Harry.
DRIVER
Hey, Boss, that's good. Who said that?
HAVOK
I did, Harry. Now drive the fucking car to Texas, I've still got more shopping to do.
SCENE 3
INTERIOR of limo
Close up on DRIVER in front seat, then:
Sort of quick photo clicking edit, back, back to DRIVER, in desert camo, a side shot of him driving a HumVee in some unnamed desert.
He is sawing at the wheel, and from the front window we can see various obstacles veer in and out of his vision through the dust.
The dust clears and he sees HAVOK, hand out to stop him, and he hits the brakes hard.
Side shot of him almost hitting HAVOK, stopping inches from him.
HAVOK walks over to DRIVER's door. Bullets ricochet around them.
HAVOK
Afternoon, Sergeant.
DRIVER
Sir.
HAVOK
What's your situation?
DRIVER looks around HumVee, where there is seen the remains of his torn up crew
DRIVER
Trying to get back home, Sir. Ambushed.
HAVOK
Trade you a ride for that gunner's spot.
DRIVER
(sees gunner is quite dead)
Sure, Sir. Hop on in.
HAVOK
(looks around)
Much obliged, Driver. Must be my luck is turning around today. My crew's probably pushing yours on the steps to the Pearly Gates right now.
DRIVER
(smiles through the blood and grime)
Saint Peter’s got his hands full then. Let's not join them, Sir.
HAVOK
Yes, Driver, let's rock.
They pull away. HAVOK takes the .50 caliber, and starts to clear a path through the streets.
He sees a man stand up, RPG in hand, taking aim.
He pulls the trigger to the .50, but it clicks empty.
Coming out through the top of the hole, he flicks to DRIVER's door, opens and pulls him out and they both roll to the ground as the RPG round splits the HumVee.
In combat stance, HAVOK pulls M-9 and puts a round through the RPG guy's forehead.
Incredibly, at the corner is a taxi cab, motor idling, music coming from the interior. He pulls DRIVER up and they run towards it. He opens the door, and pushes DRIVER into the back seat, then hops in too.
TAXI DRIVER
No, no, no. No, no-
HAVOK
(leans forward and sees the cabbie's license, and puts a round through the cabbie's picture, then one through the radio, which mumbles down)
Drive, or the next one's for you.
Cab leaps off.
HAVOK
(looks at DRIVER)
Learned to do that in New York.
DRIVER
Rough place?
HAVOK
Hard to get a cab. Sometimes it's murder.