FIASCO

by

Francisco Silva

1390 Santa Alicia Ave.
Chula Vista, CA 91913
619/424-3350
email: paquito@cox.net
FADE IN:

A TELEVISION SCREEN

Pitch Black. A beat of dead silence...then the television comes ALIVE! The ABC LOGO cues in with the intro music and VOICE-OVER. 

				ANNOUNCER
		Think you've seen it all? Wait till you've
		seen the next...

A TITLE CARD transitions onscreen.

				ANNOUNCER (CONT'D)
		....Fiasco!

The screen cuts to highlights of the last few episodes, revealing a slideshow of a beautiful blonde: perfect eyes, graceful expressions, ripe red lips, soft body, and a devilish smile. A true goddess -- this is HELENA, the beauty and unaware victim of this reality drama.

				ANNOUNCER 
		Last week, we learned that she was going
		to get Tom engaged.

Now it cuts to a handsome stud: black haired, sharp features, will trimmed, brown eyes and a slight goatee -- TOM. The apparent lover boy, but is actually in part of the gag. 

				ANNOUNCER (CONT'D)
		Determined with the wit the Tortoise and 
		struck by an arrow strait from Cupid, 
		she'll do the unthinkable and propose...

A close-up on an ENGAGMENT RING: pearly silver, shinning like a charm.

				ANNOUNCER
		Will it succeed and lead to the sound of
			(wedding bells ring)
		--wedding bells in the chapel?
			(pause)
		Or will it foil and will be reduced to
				ANNOUNCER (CONT’D)
		muck?

The images get grittier and equally depressing as the lighter images from previously. Computer animations of things falling apart, etc. etc...

				ANNOUNCER (CONT'D)
		You better tune in next week next Monday
		to find out on the series finale of...

The screen whites out to the main logo...

				ANNOUNCER (CONT'D)
		FIASCO!

Fade out. A rapid cut to a promotion pick of Pepsi.

				VOICE
			(not announcer)
		Fiasco is brought to you by--

The screen completely kills over. 

There's a glare revealing an extended room. Strolling into view is a disgruntled OLD MAN: early sixties, saggy neck, gray hair, pale skin, nicely trimmed and looks displeased -- Studio Executive ROBERT SCORTIA.

				ROBERT
		A hundred thousand dollars spent...
			(pause, raising his voice)
		And you turn out this piece of shit!

The television screen begins to recede as a wood-brick wall builds from a PULL BACK.

							REVEAL:

INT. BOARDROOM - ABC STUDIOS - DAY

He looks towards a figure in the foreground: ALEX ROLLINS -- a twenty something year-old television Producer; a natural at his line of work, throbbing with ambition and intelligence. Good looking and a casual dresser; he's got style. He seems displeased as well, but displeased that the promo didn't impress or didn't go by what Scrotia had in mind.

				ALEX
		What are you talking about? It's perfect.

				SCORTIA
		It's nothing but slideshows and flashy
		titles. That's the problem.

				ALEX
		What are you saying?

He rises in dispute.

				ALEX (CONT'D)
		It's everything you wanted: a promotion
		that's low budget and hits the target
		audience right in the face. First, the
		low budget factor is a good one: we don't
		need to go up to drive up to Lucasfilm
		and get them to do something overly 
		elaborate and money gauging. Might as
		well save the time and do it here, in the
		editorial department and save a buck or
		two. Finally, we want to throw as many
		twists and turns to get our viewers to
		keep guessing what the finale is. What's
		the end have in hold for our beloved
		Helena. Is she gonna have a happy marriage
		and settle down somewhere in the mid-west
		or some other rustic setting that will
		bring the feeling of nostalgia.
			(pause, running thoughts for a
			better word)
		Not that - sentimentality! And we'll have
		that buttered-up picturesque ending to
		this story. 

A long beat progresses. SCORTIA nods silently and turns to another member in the party. 

				SCORTIA
		Let's hear what you're business partner
		has to say, Mr. Rollings.
			(pause)
		A thought, Mr. Alum?

FRANK ALUM is around the same age group as Alex. Early thirties, he still seems young but less enterprising as his partner in crime. His brown hair shines as a beam of light spears through the window curtain. 		

				FRANK
		I have to agree with Alex. It's cheap and
		you can do a lot with it. Plus it does
		leave the viewer in a confusing state.

Scortia however is not pleased with his response either, but Alex is optimistic and is behind his back. 

				SCORTIA
		I still say it's too short.

Alex rebels.

				ALEX
		Too short? People can process info from
		a screen in a snap! Thank you MTV!
			(snapping his finger)
		But you only register the greatness of
		this by only a few seconds. 

He's really crossed the line. Scortia now seems angered, with his face turning rose-red. 
	
				SCORTIA
			(eased, relaxed)
		Gentlemen, I fully understand your
		position on the subject, but here's where
		you fall apart. According to the contract,
		we own the name, the merchandise and all
		the rights. So technically, we own the
		damn thing. So it's either you do it again
		or you'll find yourselves at job 
		interviews.

Alex is about to jump him -- but Frank holds him down: relevant to an owner grappling his misbehaving pet. 
	
				FRANK
		Alex...its okay. Just do what he says.

The mood settles.
 
				SCORTIA
		Now, if you excuse me.

He finds it embarrassing and turns away, departing the room. The two begin to muster there paperwork, spread about the conference table. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. STUDIO LOT - ABC PREMISES - LATER 

TWO FIGURES in the foreground; Alex and Frank. The two walk alone, strolling against large sound stages. Alex continues to grumble...

				ALEX
		This is bullshit!
			(pause)
		That asshole shouldn't be in this business
		anyhow! All he cares is profit so he can
		still put his servants through shit he'll
		never bother to do himself.

				FRANK
		I think you're taking this too far Alex,
		just chill out. 

				ALEX
		Do you know how pissed Mike's gonna get
		when he finds out he needs edit the
		trailer again! 
			(pause)
		Took' him a day to string it up!

				FRANK
		I think you're overreacting, Alex.

				ALEX
		That sagging piece of shit!

Then -- Frank breaks the barrier, turning red in an instant.

				FRANK
			(louder; annoyed)
		Okay, he fucked us over! So deal 
		with it!
				FRANK (CONT’D)
		Don't take it like a little bitch!

The violence halts. No sound. No motion. All's frozen. Frank reverts to his sane state, and realizes he just blew up.

				FRANK
			(soft)
		Sorry, I kind of went overboard with
		the subject --

				ALEX
		No, no, no...
			(pause)
		You don't need to apologize. I just went
		the deep end with it. 
			(realizing)
		So Mike's gotta do it again?

				FRANK
		Yep. That's the biz, I guess.

				ALEX
		A true jungle. 
			(pause/ to Frank)
		Well, at least you tell him. I never want
		to be the bearer of bad news. Anyhow, I  
		still need to revise the script.

He breaths out. Frank lurches towards a SPEEDING COMMUTER SHUTTLE. 

				FRANK
		Hey!

It stops. 

				ALEX (CONT'D)
		See yah tomorrow then.

				FRANK
		So long. 
		
He boards the vehicle and it takes off.

FRANK'S POV
Alex's shrinking image. Then he clears from sight. 

BACK TO SCENE. 

The shuttle veers by a large poster on the sound stage wall. It reads: FIASCO, ONLY ON ABC CHANNEL 10.

							CUT TO:

INT. ALEX'S BEDROOM - LATER - NIGHT

Very comforting, with the necessities of home. His bed is a large mesa with the blanket trailing over. Here, spaced out with his shoes atop the bed sheets, Alex is typing away. 

His actions define restless. His eyes are frozen, moving back and forth. The screen: a box of text writes itself. The text is courier new, font twelve. 

His arm reaches for a cup of coffee sitting on a piece of furniture. He sips with room temperature drops of coffee trailing off the lid. Alex places it back and he goes back to work.

The PHONE RINGS with HIGH INTENSITY.

He picks it up.

				ALEX
		'Yellow?

				MIKE (O.S)
		I have to do the entire thing
		again! 

				ALEX 
			(still typing)
		I knew you would call.

				MIKE (O.S)
		Fucking Scortia.

				ALEX
		Hate his guts too.

He types. 
				MIKE (O.S)
		So what does he want me to do 
		with it?

				ALEX
		Make it longer I guess.

				MIKE (O.S)
		He didn't buy that MTV bullshit,
		didn't he?

				ALEX
		Not a word.

				MIKE (O.S)
		You should take my advice: stop 
		kissing ass and do whatever the hell
		you want! This show is the hottest
		thing in the country.
	
				ALEX
		Don't think I'm just one of his measly
		hosts that parasite eats inside out of.

				MIKE (O.S)
		The problem is that you listen to them
		so much! 

				ALEX
		Don't cross the line buddy, or you'll
		get your ass fired.

A beat. He continues to type. He begins to build speed as he waits.

				MIKE (O.S)
		Might as well.

				ALEX
		That's the biz.

				MIKE (O.S)
		Pure hell.

				ALEX
		See ya tomorrow.

				MIKE (O.S)
		I'm out!

The phone goes dead. Putting it aside, he speeds up in typing. Whole banks of paragraphs form. His pressing fingers make a rhythm.

The clock reads "twelve am".

Windows refract his image. It clashes with the racing kaleidoscope of flying colors: traffic. 

Finally, he stops. His body relaxes. He raises his fingers once more and starts typing a small body of words. They register onscreen. 

				ALEX
			(stomping his fingers on the
			key bank)
		And fade out...

On the screen: EXPOSITION.

				ALEX
		Now to the stage. Let's see how this
		modern tragedy play out.

On the screen: FADE OUT.

							DISSOLVE TO:

INT. TOM'S TRAILER - IN MALIBU - DAY

The script is now on Xerox paper, bonded with Chicago screws. A page is turned by Tom, wrapped in a navy-blue robe. A make-up artist does his face. Alex is aside, eager for a response.

				ALEX
		So?

Tom sighs; a bad sign.

				ALEX
		What?

A sigh hums out. 
				TOM
		It's fine. 

Relief stems out.

				TOM
		But...

But it’s short-lived.

				TOM
		...I have a problem with the last
		line.

Alex looks at it.

				ALEX
		I don't see anything wrong.

				TOM
		It's giving away the entire thing. It'll
		break the cover.

				ALEX
		That's what we want. Her entire
		perspective is fake! 

				TOM
		But it still sounds fake.

				ALEX
		Fine -- use a one-liner!

The P.A (Production Assistant) appears from the door.

				P.A
		Ten minutes till we roll!

He splits.

				ALEX
		Better get to the monitors.

He rises, slipping his robe off, carelessly hitting the mirror. Just before completely departing from the chair, Tom grapples to him.

He looks. 

				TOM
		Alex.

				ALEX
		What?

				TOM	
		I've been meaning to talk to you.

				ALEX
		What?

				TOM
		It’s about. 
			(grueling over)
		Well, you know...

A beat. He waits patiently.

				TOM (CONT’D)
		...Typecasting.

				ALEX
			(rolling his eyes)
		Come on! Those are just jitters. You're
		on in nine! Let's haul ass!

				TOM
		Hope this doesn't cost the Emmy.

				ALEX
		You're a long way from that buddy!

They leave in a flash.

							CUT TO:

EXT. STREETS OF MALIBU - SEASIDE - DUSK

The two enter a set-up of trailers, scattered among parking spots. Wires wrung the pavement. Craft Servicemen clean their supplies.

The crew members are in a backlash of people talking and walking. The two split, heading towards different destinations. Alex heads for a trailer, the VIDEO ROOM. He disappears. 

Tom enters a residence: a seaside two-story home with a perfect lawn laced with wires running through the home. More members run around, carrying certain items.

							CUT TO:

INT. VIDEO ROOM - CONTINUING

The gang is all here: Alex seats himself next to Frank. Both seem like nervous wrecks.

				FRANK
		Great, you finally showed up!

				ALEX
		Don't be sarcastic. 
	
				FRANK
		Anyhow, the moment nears --

				VIDEO ASSISTANT
		Alright, five minutes people!

The other TECHIES work their magic, working on the panels, fixing up the cameras.

				FRANK
		Alright, give us some checks on the 
		cams.

A surge of keystrokes: the TECHIES play with the knobs as they close in and out from various cameras in positions. All have a desired angle on Helena -- awash in bright light.

				ALEX
		How do we look?

				VIDEO ASSISTANT
		Looking good. 

				ALEX
		Excellent.

				VIDEO ASSISTANT
		Four minutes!

Alex seems nervous, but determined. 

He waits the last moments...

Clocking their way down...

							CUT TO:

EXT. THE SUBURBS - DRIVEWAY - DAY

Cozy, affordable homes. Curved in geometric shapes. Perfect lawns. Kids are playing alongside. All seem cheerful and don't have a care in the world.

							CUT TO:

EXT. FRONT PORCH - ANONYMOUS RESIDENCE

PUSH IN towards a window: inside, a family scurries with the children holding dearly to snacks. They seat themselves, feeling comfortable upon a leather couch.

They face the flashing...

							CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM

...of a television screen. All seem frozen, with their eyes focused upon a common axis point. A series of commercials play onscreen, but they await the show to continue playing on. 

The microwave BUZZES with life.

Popcorn within is nearing its prime.

A long, loud PING...

The wide hatch swings open with a feminine arm grabbing the item inside and quickly closing it. 

The sound of fingers grabbing amounts of popcorn. Then, there’s a CRUNCHING.

							CUT TO:

INT. MALIBU RESIDENCE

Tom sits by the camera, overshadowed by bright lighting in the foreground. Helena sits alone, under a dense layer of makeup bleaching her face.

He seems nervous all well. Then he notices something, something wet. He looks -- the armpit portion of his shirt is slick with sweat. 

				TOM
		Great...
			(pause)
		Fucking terrific.

A CREW MEMBER comes by.

				CREW MEMBER
		Three minutes--
			(noticing his shirt)
		Whoa!

							CUT TO:

INT. VIDEO TRAILER

Frank and Alex look ever deeper into pandemonium.

				VIDEO ASSISTANT
		We got a problem.

				ALEX
		What?

He uses the toggle to reveal a macro angle -- on Tom’s WET SHIRT. All seem ready to panic.

				FRANK
		Shit!

				ALEX
		We got three minutes!	
			(pause, thinking)
		Does anyone have an extra shirt he...
				ALEX (CONT’D)
		...can borrow?

No one answers. Alex gives a bad impression and starts to strip his shirt off. Frank seems mystified by his course of action.

				FRANK
		What the fuck are you doing?!

				ALEX
		He needs a shirt.
			(pause)
		And mine’s is the only one that 
		fits! Plus I’m the only guy that 
		gets anything done around here.

Frank stays put, letting him carry out his plan. Then, he passes it to a CREW MEMBER. 

				ALEX
		Hurry up! Get it to him!

The CREW MEMBER runs in a flash.

				VOICE
		Two minutes!

							CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM - ANONYMOUS RESIDENCE - SAME

Awaiting the final moments before sundown. The great orange disk spears through the windows in bars. A half-liter of coke stands on the counter. Dirty cookie trays stacked atop each other in the sink. An eerie sensation is created through the water dripping.

							CUT TO:

INT. VIDEO TRAILER - CONTINUOUS

A sign of relief: Tom slipping on the shirt. Now Alex sits in his undershirt, but happy that it worked out in the end. 

Then, the countdown twines...
				VIDEO ASSISTANT
		In fifty seconds...
			(pause)
		Forty five...

							CUT TO:

INT. MALIBU RESIDENCE - CONTINUOUS

The Camera Operators target Helena in the foreground. Some zoom in and out of order. She seems comforting and pleasant to look at.

				VOICE
		Forty...
			(pause)
		Thirty-five...

							CUT TO:

TELEVISION SCREENS

All are on stand-by mode with nothing to trigger the recording. The dotted faces of Tom and Helena fill the sifting static. They’re faces are Polaroid in style.

				VOICE
		Thirty...

							CUT TO:

EXT. STREETS OF MALIBU

The Craft Servicemen sit by the television, watching vapid commercials. Each of them proposes a toast to one another. There bottles meet with a CLANG. The glare of urine-colored beer collides with the bottles.

				VOICE
		Twenty-five...
			(pause)
		Twenty...

Ice-cold beer runs down their throats. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. AIR ABOVE LOS ANGELES

The city enters the night: another era, another time. The sky scrappers are painted by columns of descending downward, into the abyssal trench. The sirens of police cars and civilians bark into the black. 

				VOICE
		Fifteen...
					
							CUT TO:

EXT. STREET IN SANTA MONICA - CONTINUOUS

A glowing blob peers through the window of a sea-side apartment. The sun finally descends into the deep with the sky an oblique pink.

				VOICE
		Ten...

							CUT TO:

INT. VIDEO TRAILER

On Alex and Frank’s face; an expression a boy on Christmas would give -- joyful and glad. Exactly what there experiencing. 

				VOICE
		Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four,
		three, two, one...cue titles!

A flip of the switch starts the title music. Images play across the screens of the previous episodes and such. Then, the monitor cuts to a crane shot of Helena. Then, Tom walks into the scene.

							CUT TO:

INT. RESIDENCE - SUBURBIA

A glow of baby blue hits the viewer’s faces. Onscreen, Tom gets comfortable, seated facing a different direction. It seems awkward. The cameras close in.

				HELENA
		Aren’t you gonna say hi?

				TOM
		But of course. 

His face looks odd, as if he’s making it all up. However, Helena’s buying it. She begins to blush.

							CUT TO:

INT. VIDEO TRAILER

Alex looks lost in confusion. On the page, the dialogue is completely different. He can only gape at what Tom’s doing. 

				ALEX
		What the hell is he doing?

				FRANK
		He’s improvising.

				ALEX
		Fuck.

				FRANK
		Wait...he might just pull it off.

His reassuring answer does little to soothe Alex, but he stays put. He slams the script atop the monitor.

				ALEX (O.S)
		We’ll see.

A clock lies in the foreground. It reads: six o’ five pm. Audio from the drama carries off, becoming faint.

							DISSOLVE TO:

INT. VIDEO TRAILER - HALF AN HOUR LATER 

The clock reads: six-thirty pm.

Alex’s mood seems a bit optimistic but not entirely jazzed of Tom’s performance. 

				FRANK
		So?

				ALEX
			(icy) 
		Fine.
			(pause)
		Prefer the scripted version.

				VIDEO ASSISTANT
		And we’re back. 

They twist towards the monitors: the last setup. They flash through the script and stops at the last page. The last setup; 45 - INT. RESIDENCE - MALIBU. He gulps, nervous but determined to face the reaction.

				ALEX
		It’s finally come to this.

The main title music quickly cuts to the scene. Frank remains vigil, keeping a quiet state.

				FRANK
		Close in.

A TECHIE plays with the toggles, like knobs on a radio controller. It corresponds with the closing shot of the couple. Focus intensifies. An intimidating shot.

							CUT TO:

INT. MALIBU RESIDENCE

All seem quiet and cool. Helena bites her lip, waiting for the right moment to strike. A beat. Then -- 

				HELENA
		Tom. 

				TOM
		Yah?

				HELENA
			(not facing him)
		I’m just been wondering, but you think
		we have a good relationship, right?
				TOM
		Never better.

				HELENA
		And I think so too.

				TOM	
		But of course.

He gives a fake expression. 

							CUT TO:

INT. VIDEO TRAILER - CONTINUOUS

Alex’s expression slowly transitions from a frown to a smile. He likes what’s coming off screen. 

				ALEX
		Jesus. It’s working.

A monitor has an angle on the two. Onscreen, they meet face-to-face -- an intense moment.

							CUT TO:

INT. MALIBU RESIDENCE

The mood gets lighter.

				HELENA
			(turning to him)
		But now, with all the dating and stuff
			(voice lightening)
		And I think we’re ready to take the next
		step in our relationship. 

She moves closer. Tom is mixed with aghast, totally unaware of her course of action. 

				HELENA
		Will you marry me?

							CUT TO:

INT. RESIDENCE - SUBURBIA - SAME

They’re eyes bugle with shock. Vigilant, the family waits to hear his answer. On the screen; Tom looks overwhelmed with her request, and responds.

				TOM
		No.

GASPS erupt. A surprising twist hits the viewers. They look ever mystified by the couple onscreen. 

							CUT TO:
INT. MALIBU RESIDENCE - CONTINUOUS

She looks stupefied and in a turbulence of emotions. She keeps her feelings deluded in her fake smile, attempting to keep a calm expression.

				HELENA
		Why not?

A beat.

				TOM
		I’m only an actor, not a lover.

				VOICE
		And cut!

Confetti RAINS DOWN as a banner gracefully unravels: FIASCO: THE SERIES FINALE! A GREAT TWELVE MONTHS OF LOVE AND SUCH!

Crew men enter the set, hugging and thanking one another. Tom is caught in the current, shaking the hands of anonymous crew men. 

However, 	Helena is anchored to her seat. Her frozen expression brings a odd feeling about her. Though in a suspended state, a small, miniscule tear rolls down her cheek, down her neck and finally at her shoulder.

							CUT TO:

INT. VIDEO TRAILER - SAME

Alex and Frank toast off a champagne bottle.

				ALEX
		That son of a bitch! He did it!

				FRANK
		How’s that for improving.

Both drink.

				ALEX
		Better see how she took it.

They split.

							CUT TO:

INT. MALIBU RESIDENCE

As the after-party clears, Alex and Frank enter with smiles. Searching and looking, they find an empty chair with a jacket cloaked over. 

				ALEX
		Where she go?

Tom passes by. Alex stops him.

				ALEX
		Tom.

				TOM
		What?

				ALEX
		Where’d she go?

He turns to the empty seat.

				TOM
		I don’t know.

Tom departs.

				FRANK
		She must have left home. 

				ALEX
		So much for her paycheck.
				FRANK
		Let’s haul it.

The Two depart, as cast members muster.

Styrofoam cups clash.

Cheering ensues. 

							CUT TO:
TELEVISION SCREEN

The end credits roll with footage of the previous episodes playing abroad. All the footage shows the two locked away in joy and seems not to have a care in the world. The focus is on Helena, whose smile brings an odd stroke to her evoking appearance. Then, it blacks out at the touch of the POWER BUTTON. 

							FADE TO:

EXT. L.A SKYLINE - TWO YEARS LATER - DAY

The city of angels: a fast-paced cosmopolitan. Smog clutters the view of the downtown skyscrapers as prodigal homes come into sight. A familiar tune is playing, a FRANK SINATRA ballad.

Music In; ??? By Frank Sinatra 

							REVEAL:

EXT. ALEX’S MANSION - POOLSIDE 

A glass cup sits on a stool: ice within glistens with a bleaching white. Swinging a bottle of liquor across, he pours into the cup. 

A clear, fizzy liquid slowly climbs. The bottle is placed beside, with the liquor simmering. Alex then grabs hold and takes a long drink. He puts it down -- revealing the same able and wholesome man.

His eyes are looking at a certain point -- a woman basking in the oven temperature heat, laid back on a lawn chair. She looks back. This is Jeanette. 

There eyes meet with pristine proximity. They smile. He takes a sip. Jeanette looks towards her right direction. Alex turns. 

In the distance, a gate creaks open. It is Frank, looking as firm and motionless as ever. However, he seems to be carrying baggage. He looks worried, almost scarred. He carries a briefcase.

He rises.
				ALEX
		Frank. Jeez, how long has it been? 
		Two years?

				FRANK
		I need to talk to you.

				ALEX
		What’s wrong.

His anxious expressions deepen his trouble.

				FRANK
		I can’t explain it--
			(biting his lip)
		I mean I can, but I can’t explain it
		out here. We need to be alone.

His eyes are locked on his. He slightly lurches back.

							CUT TO:

INT. BAR - MANSION - LATER - NIGHT 

Alex takes two beers out of a mini-refrigerator. It closes by the shifting in weight as he walks away. Seating himself, he begins his intake.

Frank nabs his and starts chugging down. Stopping, it’s half full; something is bothering him.

				ALEX
		Jesus, take it easy. This is strong,
		you know.

				FRANK
		Not as strong as scotch. 

				ALEX
			(crossing his fingers)
		So what’s the problem?

A beat. Looming down, he seems to be conjuring up thoughts. He then booms up. 

				FRANK
		I’ve been getting death threats. 

				ALEX
		Death threats?
			(pause)
		Doesn’t that sound a bit exaggerated?

				FRANK
		I’m telling the truth.

				ALEX
		I never said I didn’t believe you.

				FRANK
		Alright. It started out as hate mail,
		you know, basic complaints about my
		recent productions and such. But they
		got worse, and further than that, it
		got to where it is.

Alex stares at the briefcase.

				ALEX
		What’s in it?

				FRANK
		All of it.

He pops it open -- with a sea of letters flooding out. They spill across the table. Frank pulls out a certain letter. He passes it to Alex. He reads.

				ALEX
		Pure hate.

				FRANK
		Yah.

				ALEX
		Whoever wrote it is probably hates TV. 

				FRANK
		I came to a different conclusion.

A look of wonder ponders on his face. Frank gathers more and puts them aside. The blank sides of the letters have a red vertical or horizontal line. Like a puzzle, he arranges them in an order -- that strangely intertwine, forming out letters. Alex backs up to read what the message bears; “I WILL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

				FRANK
		You see -- they add up.

				ALEX
		How can someone be capable of something	
		this preposterous?

				FRANK
		I don’t know.

Alex wonders for a moment -- lost in thoughts. Then, he assumes to one conclusion, one that must be the absolute reason for such despicable writings. 

				ALEX
		Do you think it has something to do
		with Fiasco?

Frank turns. His eyes are fixed, struggling through frustration and such.

				FRANK
		Maybe...just maybe...

Alex thinks once more, realizing how ridiculous this sounds. He sits back down.

				ALEX
		Wait, it can’t be that! 
				(pause)
		Frank, don’t worry about it. Don’t stress
		about. And don’t think about it. 

Frank gives an idiot’s grin, feeling rejuvenated and calm and patient. He stops ranting.

				FRANK
		You’re right. Just forget about it.

				ALEX
		Think about something else. 
				(pause)
		Think about you wife. Think about Pam
		and the kids? Are they coming soon?
				
				FRANK
			(still recovering)
		Yah, in a week. We’re supposed to go
		to Venice. See the pier.

				ALEX
		That’s as family oriented as you can
		get. And like I said, don’t stress about
		this. Look at Lucas -- he’s made a 
		career out of these low-lives. 

				FRANK
		I don’t see what Star Wars has to do
		with me.

				ALEX
		That’s not important. Neither is this
		disturbing piece of work. So just go
		home and take five. I don’t know, just
		have fun or something. There’s a world
		outside that two-story home of yours
		that’s waiting for you to experience.

				FRANK
		Better get this out of the way.

He begins to collect the papers back into the briefcase as he preps to leave. In a flash, he’s done. Now, he approaches the door towards the driveway.

				ALEX
		See ya later.

				FRANK
		You too.
The door slams. Alex gets a magazine laying aside and starts to pick off on a specific article. He stops, gazing at two naked beer bottles. He sighs.

							CUT TO:

EXT. TOM’S RESIDENCE - SAME

Picturesque. A perfectly mowed lawn surrenders to garden sprinklers. Mist envelopes above the grass. Columns suspend the bridge above the porch. 

							CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM

A pile of various tabloids rest on the drawer. Aside, Tom is reading a screenplay. His eyes pan across a page, reading every slug, action line or dialogue. 

His door swings open, with a LOUD CREAK...

He looks: nothing revealing itself but billowing curtains caught in the prevailing wind. He veers back to where he left off. 

							CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM

Bright backlighting projects large shadows off surrounding plants. The light glares the large array of windows. They unveil nothing. Pitch black. 

The bedroom seems to connect to this spacious interior with Tom in the foreground. SMUGING wipes across the windows. It sounds damp, and wet. 

It catches the attention of Tom. Creeping out of bed, he walks across the wooden floor. He makes it across towards the corridor, facing a panel of light switches. 

He flips the first switch: exterior lighting comes to be. He then flips the seconds: he drops his jaw. Across the windows, blood is smeared across, spelling out a message, the ULTAMINTE ULTAMATUM; 
			SUFER!

Alongside the pool his dog lies. Even worse, his spots his German Sheppard’s carcass dissected with his intestines spilling from a slit through his belly. It has a blood-stained coat. 

A loud scream erupts from his mouth. Growing louder, it begins to intertwine with....

							CUT TO:

EXT. TOM’S RESIDENCE - LATER

...police sirens crying out. At least five or six cars are parked at the front. Officers mingle with paparazzi, always desperate for news and such. 

From the intersection, a Black BMW rockets into the area and crashes into the sidewalk.

Erupting from the door is Alex in a worried state. Making his way, he attracts PAPARAZZI. 

				PAPARAZZI
		It’s Alex Rollins! Longtime friend
		of Tom Weaver! 
			(pause)
		What’s up?
			(pause)
		Rape? Arson? Murder?
			(pause)
		You can’t hide forever with this load.

				ALEX
			(annoyed)
		Go fuck yourself!

He splits, with the Paparazzi stopping in his tracks.

							CUT TO:

EXT. PORCH

Police surround the space. Alex proceeds, but they muster up, creating a wall.

				POLICE OFFICER
		You can’t come in sir.

				ALEX
		I need to speak with Mr. Alum!

				POLICE OFFICER
		This is a Police investigation, 
		therefore I can’t let you in.

He tries to push through. 

				ALEX
		I’m a friend of his!

				POLICE OFFICER
		Doesn’t matter.

Tom bursts out the door and recognizes him.

				TOM
			(to the officers)
		Let him in. He’s okay.

				ALEX
		Thanks a lot.

He runs in, joining his side.

							CUT TO:

INT. THROUGH VARIOUS ROOMS

They walk through scenes of the police’s presence inside; taking samples, photographs, etc.

				TOM
		Thank god you came.

				ALEX
		What happened?

				TOM
		My dog’s been murdered.

				ALEX
		How bad.
A troubling beat perturbs...

				TOM
		I can’t describe it.

They make it too the scene of the crime...

							CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM - CONTINUED

Approaching the two is a FORENSIC INVESTIGATOR. His eyes look teeming with shock and awe.

				TOM
		How’s it look?

				INVESTIGATOR
		Big mess. Unlike anything I’ve seen in
		twenty-five years.

				ALEX
		It’s that bad?

				INVESTIGATOR
		Look for yourself.

							CUT TO:

EXT. POOLSIDE

Lights beam down on the carcass as men pick away at the flesh. Alex kneels in disgust with Tom looking away. He perches back towards his face. The persistent Investigator is aside. 

				ALEX
		Jesus.

				INVESTIGATOR
		Jesus indeed. 

				ALEX
		What could have been the motive?

				INVESTATOR
		I’d say it’s a terror tactic.

				TOM
		A terror-what?

				INVESTIGATOR
		Terror-tactic.
			(pause)
		Back in my first tour in ‘Nam, we had
		a lot of run-ins with these things. 
		They were intended to demoralize our
		Boys in green. One of the key elements
		to how we lost the war against guys
		running around in sandals. 

				TOM
		So you suppose it’s from a crazed 
		fan?

				INVESTIGATOR
		Oh no. They don’t go this far. 
			(pause)
		Whoever did this wants you dead.

A sign of unrest registers on Tom’s face. 

				TOM
		Thanks for the info.

				INVESTIGATOR 
		Just doing my job.

He wanders away. 

							CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM - ALEX’S - DAY 

Frank sits across the table. He seems to be a nervous wreck: hasn’t changed his clothes, hasn’t raised a leverage to shave or anything else. His shirt is half-buttoned, with his clean chest slightly exposed.

				ALEX
		You’re a fucking wreck.

				FRANK
		No shit.

				ALEX
		What’s wrong with you, man?

				FRANK
		Someone’s trying to kill me.

				ALEX
		I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.

				FRANK
		It’s a bitch.

He drinks some coffee. His hand shakes with the mug chattering when placed back on the table. Alex looks a little disturbed.

				ALEX
		Any suspects?

Frank slams his hands onto the table.

				FRANK
		Goddammit! It’s her! Not some fucking
		lunatic fan! It’s Helena!

				ALEX
		Helena.

He comes to realize he’s true -- it all makes sense now. His swinging eyes look towards him, but still a bit skeptic.

				ALEX
		It can't be her.
	
				FRANK
		Then where do you think she's been in
		two years? Getting her hair done?!

				ALEX
		It can't be...

In an instant, the PHONE RINGS. Both peer at it with suspicious thought, unaware of who the caller is. They keep their proximity far from it. 

				FRANK
		Who is it?

He walks up. He presses a button labeled "CALLER ID" and it turns up as 'RESTRICTED'

				ALEX
		Says restricted.

A beat.

				FRANK
		Answer it.

He picks it up. 

				ALEX
		Hello?

				VOICE (MALE) (O.S) 
		You want answers?

His expression turns to grime.

				ALEX
		What do you want?

He looks to Frank. He expects something to mutter out of his mouth: nothing yet. 

				VOICE
		I want to help you. 

				ALEX
		Wait...

				VOICE
		Shut up and listen to me -- there's a
		folder. A manila folder to be exact on
		the forth level of the parking structure
		at Universal Studios.

				ALEX
		Thanks. 
			(curious)
		Who are you?

							CUT TO:

INT. UNDISCLOSED DWELLING - SAME

Darkness: the Caller's face is masked in natural darkness with only his mouth in the light. Adjacent is the phone with Alex's voice speaking out.

				VOICE
		All in good time.

He puts the phone down. The mouth swings out of frame, leading to conclude he's seating on an office chair. 

On a console, a head-lamp spears down a B&W image of a young couple in a wooded background. Both look happy, at their prime. 

The woman seems familiar to Helena -- her younger self. The Caller hand gets a hold of the photo and crushes it.

							SMASH CUT TO:

INT./EXT. ALEX'S BMW - LATER

ALEX'S POV

The rival Universal/NBC building swings by. Throbbing with illumination the name stands out perched atop, reaching out in a black sky.

BACK TO SCENE.

Overhead street lights play across the windshield. The two are at the front. Frank looks a bit relaxed are extremely tired.

Alex however are rigorous to find this mystery folder. However, he seems a bit nervous. 

				ALEX
		I get off here right?

				FRANK
		Yeah. Take a left.

The steering wheel twists to the direction of a road sign. It reads:

		PARKING LOT
	
		NEXT EXIT

							CUT TO:

INT./EXT. FOURTH FLOOR - PARKING STRUCTURE

Reminiscent to a crypt: darkness residing. Two ghostly lights sift through the black -- the front of Alex's car. The wheels stop with a rubbery whine. The lights stay on for a moment with their intensity beginning to fade in obscurity.

							CUT TO:
INT. FRONT - BMW

A twist of the key kills the engine. The gauges fall to zero. Alex puts the stick on a different setting.

							CUT TO:

INT./EXT. PARKING STRUCTURE - CONTINUOUS

The doors open with the two erupting.

Both take a good look at each other, then head for the rear end of the car.

							CUT TO:

INT. TRUNK - BMW

Briefly, Alex takes out two flashlights and slams the trunk shut. 

							CUT TO:

INT./EXT. PARKING STRUCTURE - SAME

Both click to life. The two begin to search the entire area. They head in different directions and begin to grow apart. 

Alex pans his light across all that crosses paths with him. He illuminates the concrete floor and booms up to the columns with certain characters from an array of Universal films. 

The one that startles him is the T-REX from JURRASIC PARK. He comes to realize his folly.

He purges on.

Frank is doing neither as well. Search back and forth; his actions seem more like reactions to something waiting to jump out.

He reaches the ridge of the structure looking three stories down. He shivers, not of the cold but of his phobia. He back peddles and turns -- with him jumping back with Alex facing dead on.

				ALEX
		Oh, sorry.

				FRANK
			(getting back up)
		No need.

He's now upright.

				FRANK
		You found anything?

				ALEX
		No.
			(pause)
		You?

				FRANK
		I haven't found shit.

				ALEX
		Probably just prank caller.

				FRANK
		So we came out here just for
		no--

He steps down, with something padding his shoe -- he's found something. Both tilt their flashlights to reveal a manila folder, just how the caller prescribed it as: bulgy epicenter, clear texture, etc. 

Alex picks it up. A message is scribed atop:

		READ THIS IN PRIVATE
		
		- A FRIEND

He abides.

				FRANK
		Let’s see if it’s legit.

Alex nods. He opens it revealing a B&W PHOTO of Helena. His eyes bulge with terror.

							CUT TO:

INT. MANSION - LATER

The clock reads “11:58pm”. Across the room, endless numbers of papers cover the table. All are reports, evetns and police records. Among all of this is the two. Alex has a look which seems like he’s uncovered what connects the dots.

				FRANK
		...Police records, medical history,
		account numbers...

				ALEX
		Jesus...

The paper reads: Patient sofures from a form of mental instability. Prescribe numerous drugs. Patient is prone to self-mutilation.

				FRANK
		She’s fucked in the head.

				ALEX
		How could someone be so messed up?

A NEWSPAPER SCRAP is uncovered from the pile.

				FRANK
		Alex, take a look!

He veers to the paper. It reads on: Teenaged lover found half-alive in auto. Victim of Helena Manson, who’s now under monitoring at a nearby mental hospital. 

				ALEX
		Teenager found half-alive.

He looks closer to the clipping. It reads on with the type of pain inflicted, “was beaten to a bloody pulp”.

				ALEX
		To a bloody pulp...

Realization hits Frank in the face. 

				FRANK
		Jesus Christ. It makes sense now.

				ALEX
		What do you mean?

				FRANK
		She’s going after everyone.

				ALEX
		Involved with Fiasco?

				FRANK
		Precisely. And if I’m right, were on
		the top of her list.

				ALEX
		Just after that show?

				FRANK
		You don’t get it! She can’t tell
		what’s real and fake! She thought
		she was actually in love!
			(a beat)
		And when we let the secret out, she
		could not cope with it.

				ALEX
			(concluding)
		Then that means, she’ll go for...

				FRANK
		...Tom. And that’s why she threatened
		him last. Because we are like blocks 
		in her way.
			(a beat)
		And she’ll plow through them.

Tension increases. Adrenaline rushing. A monster on the loose; this is what they now face.

				ALEX
		Then, nobody’s safe then.

				FRANK
		Exactly.

				ALEX
		Then, the first on her list...is 
		Scortia!

				FRANK
		Why him?

				ALEX
		He gave us the greenlight to do the
		project, which provoked this entire 
		situation!

				FRANK
		You’re right.

Frank leaps to his feat and races for the phone. He gets ahold of it and dials away. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. SCORTIA RESIDENCE - SAME

The luxurious dwellings of the rich. Ferrari parked in the driveway. Noise filters out...

							CUT TO:

INT. SCORTIA'S LIVING ROOM

Onscreen, the everyday events of tinsletown play. Laid out, Scortia watches with a smirk. He looks tired. He reaches for a glass of liquor on the table.

He tanks in a mouthful, and sighs...

							CUT TO:

INT. ENTRANCE 

The phone rings. Onscreen, it reads ROLLINS. A curtain of black ascends. The phone jack is sliced through by succors. A small spark bolts. The umbilical cord is cut. The phone registers the sudden independence.

The screen on the phone dies out...

							CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM - ALEX'S

The both in despair...

				FRANK
		He's not answering!

Alex in confusion.

				ALEX
			(thinking)
		Dammit...
			(hits a thought)
		Let's get to the car!

They snap to the front door. The phone dangles in the air with the door exiting in the foreground.

It slams. 

							CUT TO:

INT. LAUNDRY MAT

The MAID tends to bundles of dirty clothing. Performing, she tosses handfuls into the washing machine. Bleach-filtered water floods. 

Near her feet, a shadow looms over. She doesn't seem to notice. The shadow continues. She senses that she's not alone. A blade shines. She turns. Her eyes cock. 

The blade swishes through the air. It cuts through her neck. An inlet seeps out. Blood spills over some untended clothing, leaving a permanent crimson stain. 

The body topples. Seeing her appearance, she drags the short stature corpse towards an occupying device, the DRYER. A trail of blood fallows...

							CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM

He grows suspicious. His eyes swing to the doorway. It’s vacant. Scortia rises from the sofa with his drink in place, remaining half-full. Its curved shape catches him leaving in the foreground.

							CUT TO:

INT. STAIRWELL/ENTRANCE

HIS POV

Down he goes. Arrays of pictures surf by. He’s now at the last step. 

BACK TO SCENE.

Scortia makes landfall. Looking, he finds nothing putting on airs. He makes it for the kitchen and...

							CUT TO:

INT. KITCHEN

...finds the water running from the faucet. Looks displeased by the Maid's lack of attention. He turns it off and beats on. 

							CUT TO:

INT. HALLWAY

Doors seem bolted shut. Dozens zoom by. Scortia continues. He finds the end.

							CUT TO:

INT. LAUNDRY MAT - CONTINUOUS

His eyes bulge with terror. He finds the gory scene. Blood spread all over. Then, smoke sifts over. He looks. The dryer is acting erratically, with alarms going off and such.

Reacting fast, he's off his feet to the dyer. Twisting the knob, it kills. He opens the bulkhead and smoke ambushes. 

Clearing he looks -- the MAID'S face: hideously bleached with dried blood running from her nose. Her eyes are blank.

Pulling back, something jabs his spinal cord and he falls back. The knife digs through his flesh, coming out of his abs. 

He starts gurgling in blood. Looking mystified and drugged, he looks. A silhouette stands atop, in the outline of a WOMAN...

				SCORTIA
			You....

He drops his head. The body’s warmth fading. His limbs twitching...then they go solitary.

She walks across the corpse. Water seeps from the laundry machine, running down. 

In her hand a box of matches. She takes one out. Zipping the side, it ignites. A beat. She flicks it into the air.

On the floor, the watery mixture continues to run. The detergent itself sits on a shelf. Its warning label exposed:

			FLAMABLE

Back on the floor, the match splashes and sets UPROAR of FLAMES! It ripples across the floor. Scortia's corpse is caught in the flames. Running up the trail of water, it runs into the epicenter and triggers.

The hatch BLOWS OPEN! It flies out of place and hits the ceiling. It falls back, tumbling. The flames sprinkle outwards. 

Across his body, his clothes begin to burn into nothing. Then it goes to his flesh. 

It starts to blacken. 

His black shoes are alive with bubbles pulsing.

His entire body is aflame.

Smoke puffs.

							CUT TO:
INT. HALLWAY

Smoke seeps under the door to the laundry mat. Rising. Mirrors fog in the heat. The mist floats up to sprinklers, TRIGGERING rainfall.

							CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM

The television kills. The silhouette veers across towards a stereo. Aside is a CD player. She opens a drawer and begins to search for an album.

She finds one and places it atop. Closes the drawer and opens it. Removing the disk, she presses the open button on the panel simultaneously.

She inserts it, and the CD player consumes. She then goes through a series of numbers, until stopping on one. Sweet music queues in. 

Music In: “Strangers in the Night”, by Frank Sinatra.

The shadow floats away, and begins to dance to the sound of an age-old crooner.

				FRANK
		STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT...
		EXTANGING GLANCES...
		WONDERING IN THE NIGHT...
		WHAT WHERE THE CHANCES...

It plows through the stereo. The volume turns up.

							CUT TO:

EXT. FRONT - SCORTIA’S RESIDENCE

A garbage can sits near the driveway. A beam of white spears it down. Then a CAR RAMS it, driving the trash out of place. 

Alex and Frank explode from the car making their way to the front door. Attempts at opening the door prove fruitless and it comes to bolting themselves towards it. The combined force releases the door from its hinges. 

							CUT TO:

INT. ENTRANCE 

They burst inside. They’re ambushed by a smoke cloud and make their way towards the hallway. Alex stops, pivoting towards the stairs. Frank gets a hold of him by his shoulder. 

				FRANK
		What are you doing?

He’s still firmly gripped to him.

				ALEX
		I’ll take care of her. Find 
		Scortia.

They split. Alex runs across the flight of stairs. Frank enters the ominous mist.

							CUT TO:
INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

Running through a smoldering room, he finds all destroyed. The door to the laundry mat however is unscathed and he enters.

							CUT TO:

INT. LAUNDRY MAT

It teams with flames. All set afire, and Frank drops his jaw, looking at what’s left of Scortia. 

				FRANK
		Jesus...

He pulls back and runs off.

							CUT TO:

INT. CORRIDOR - SECOND FLOOR

Behind a pillar, Alex creeps towards noises behind. The moment is spoiled, and he jumps upfront -- finding nothing. He looks to the left; the window is open with the wind blowing through the curtain.

				FRANK
		Alex!

He runs towards him. Alex looks uneasy. Their expressions counteract.

				ALEX
		She’s gone. 

				FRANK
		So what are we suppose to do now?

They catch the cry of a POLICE SIREN. Alex registers thinking. And his face turns pale.

				ALEX
		We can’t let the police get into this.

				FRANK
		Then what the hell are we suppose...
				FRANK (CONT’D) 
		...to do?

				ALEX
		I don’t know. I don’t feel safe 
		anymore.

				FRANK
		This shit is gonna get out pretty
		fucking soon!

				ALEX
		What the fuck do you want me to
		about it!

The siren draws closer.

				ALEX
		We need to take off.

In grief, Frank abides and they sound off, down the stairs and to the entrance. 

They quickly disappear. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. FREEWAY - MIDNIGHT

An ocean of cars, riding the currents made of tarmac. Sirens perpetuate. The BMW is lost at sea. Within, Alex is behind the wheel, seeming tired and ready to sleep at anytime. 

							CUT TO:

INT. BMW - CONTINUOUS

Frank also looks haggard and pulled too-far. Remaining quiet, he yawns. The radio plays on.

				BROADCASTER (O.S)
		According to the Beverly Hills
		Police department, they have found the
		body of Tom Scortia, who was the chief 				executive at ABC. He was responsible for 			last year’s hit, FIASCO which also 
				BROADCASTER (CONT’D)
		...stirred a bit of controversy due
		to the fact that its star, Helena
		Manson disappeared from the public. 
		More to come...

He turns the knob, causing the noise to fade. He looks towards Frank -- turning his head over. He’s fallen prey to the sandman. 

				ALEX
		Don’t sleep yet.

Frank reveals to be quite awake. 

				FRANK
			(half-asleep)
		Than what else do I have the comfort
		of?

				ALEX
		Staying awake. We can’t go back to
		my place. We need to get to a motel
		or somewhere safe.

				FRANK
		They’ re all over the place, so 
		finding one won’t be a burden.

A car siren speeds by.

				ALEX
		That doesn’t matter now! We’ve got
		to contact Tom. Tell him to stay low.

				FRANK
		What are gonna tell Jeanette? She
		needs to know. 

Alex eyes Frank through the mirror atop. Their eyes spear towards each other with intensity. 

				ALEX
		I know.

							CUT TO:

EXT. MOTEL - SANTA MONICA

A hole in the wall type of place. Neon lights perched atop to attract guests. Below, the two make their way to the entrance. They curve between parked cars.

							CUT TO:

EXT./INT. ENTRANCE

They stop facing a MAN within in dim light.

				MAN
			(welcoming)
		How you doing?

				ALEX
		We need a room. 

				FRANK
			(cutting off)
		With a kitchen.

The Man looks mystified.

				ALEX
		We’re not gay.

A sign of relief registers. He carries on with the buttons on the cash register. Motorized sounds buzz in response to his fingers. 

				MAN
		How long?

				ALEX
		All weekend.

He gets his wallet and picks out money. He slides it through a slot and the man collects it. Putting it through the cash register, he hands him the change along with the key to the room.
				ALEX
		Thanks.

They start off --

				MAN
		Wait!

He catches his attention.

				ALEX
		What?

				MAN
		For an extra twenty I could hook you
		up with cable porn.

Alex cocks an eye, feeling awkward.

				ALEX
		No thanks. 

He splits. 

							CUT TO:

INT. ROOM SIX - MOTEL - LATER

The bathroom is exposed with the lights off. Signs of a shower are present. Adjacent is the actual room. 

Alex lies on a bed on his cellular. Jeanette is speaking; a frequent chatter of one’s distorted voice. 

Frank is on the other mattress, dead asleep. The television is on, but no one bothers watching. It’s on CNN, with then news of Scortia’s death already hitting the air waves. Alex can only peer at the footage of Scortia’s corpse being rolled away via ambulance. 

				ALEX
			(into phone)
		You need to get out of town.
			(listening)
		Don’t argue. Just do what I say. It 				just isn’t safe out here. 
			(listening)
		I don’t know, go somewhere, 
		anywhere but Los Angeles county.
			(listening)
		Monterey? Your Mom lives up there.
		Just stay up there as long as...
				ALEX (CONT’D)
		...possible. 
			(listening)
		Three days the most. And I can’t be
		sure that it’ll be this long.
			(listening)
		Alright then, night sweet-heart.

He concludes.

Alex looks over towards a small notepad with something scribbled on:

		TOM (crossed out)

		HOME

He gets a hold of it and crosses out ‘HOME’. Placing it back, he lies down and relaxes. Slowly, he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

							SMASH CUT TO:

INT. TOM’S BEDROOM - SAME

The phone comes alive, scaring him as he jumps out of place. Reaching for the phone, he thinks for the worse. Closing in, he strikes and yanks it towards his face. He looks nervous, almost terrified.

				TOM
		Hello?

				AGENT (O.S)
		Tom! I’ve been trying to get a hold of
		you all day man!

He lets out a bank of air, feeling relieved. 

				TOM
		Thank god...
				(pause)
		What’s up?

				AGENT (O.S)
		Well, I heard about what happened to
		Scortia and thinking where Alex is and...
				AGENT (CONT’D)
		...his pal Frank been up to. Might if
		you tell me where they are?

His face registers suspicion.

				TOM
		Why do you want to know?

							CUT TO:

INT. AGENT’S OFFICE - SAME

The phone cord stretches into the air. A hand ready with a pen is seated atop some paper on a desk. 

				AGENT
		I want to know their safe. And that
		falls under my jurisdiction.

A beat.

				TOM (O.S)
		You do have a point...okay then.

The pen readies.

				TOM (O.S)
		Its 243-3357.

It scribes away, moving left to right and so forth. Tom’s distorted voice fails to choke under static. He continues to recite.

				TOM (O.S)
		Got it? 

				AGENT
		Yeah.

				TOM (O.S)
		You don’t need the area code?

Something odd blips -- the style of handwriting is somewhat graceful, as if it were the writing of a WOMAN -- it’s her. To the phone is a VOICE CHANGER.

				HELENA
		No. And thanks --

She hangs up as he continues to speak. With the phone down, her hands insert into gloves and she rips the message off and into her pocket.

In the foreground, something STRUGGLES. It comes into clarity; the REAL AGENT tied up and laced with his own belt. He appears helpless and continues to squirm in the restraints. 

Walking up, Helena looms over and introduces a pair of scissors to his face. His thoughts, ‘what are you gonna do with that’? He starts to shiver.

Cowering, he can only watch as his eyelids have also been tapped to his hair. He observes: she starts to cut through his shirt, reducing good looking attire into strips of cloth. 

She’s now to his outer shirt, with his face looking more and more somber. Cutting a rectangle, she exposes his naked skin with his NIPPLES out in the open.

His eyes bulge. Now he cowers more than ever. Struggling. Nothing breaks free. Then, the scissors slice through the skin, with the projection appearing to peel off. Blood gauges. He shrieks. Cowering in pain, she dislodges it and tosses it off onto the carpet. He sheds a tear.

Like a mother, Helena puts her finger to his mouth and shushes him. He continues to cry, no longer expelling tear drops. 

Now to his other one; it cuts deep into its rooting revealing veins with blood seeping out of his wounds. She throws it off as well. 

He begins to quiet down, still tearing. She walks away -- a sign of mercy.

HIS POV

Feeling calm and finally over it, he looks to her direction, finding the light turning on and she comes strolling out holding a PAPER SHREDDER. 

BACK TO SCENE.

No mercy at all. Placing it in front of him, she plugs it in and finds one of his dismembered nipples. She flips the ‘ON’ switch and DROPS IT. Through METAL TEETH, it shreds into mere pieces of flesh.

He starts to babble, though he’s not fully understood by his murderess. Pulling him up, he starts a crescendo, building up his cries.

Wearing a TIE, she gets a hold of it and places him on his back, with the tie on the opposite side of his neck and she pulls it towards the teeth -- and SUDDENLY THEY ACTIVATE.

The tie feeds into the mouth of the beast, with his retracting towards it. Still crying, he observes her in the side, smiling. 

Now he’s up to his neck. The pull of the SHREDDER draws him ever closer, to the point of CHOCKING HIM. Gasping for air, it tightens and suddenly his eyes change red. Still gasping, the leather tie begins to cut through his skin. Blood gauges.

Now at the acme, it tugs through and his neck is ripped apart. Blood sprays in all directions; it trails down his shirt, down his fingers, and down the side of the machine. 

His extensions cease convulsing. His head remains stable, and suddenly rolls off the edge of the paper shredder. His mouth remains taped. She rips it off. His mouth: an ENTERNAL SCREAM.

						SMASH CUT TO:

INT. ALEX’S ROOM - SAME

He evokes an animal’s cry. Panting, he seems delirious, coming out of some bad dream. He looks around, and finds all in order. He feels settled...then the CELLULAR RINGS.

His eyes swing to it, appearing nervous and unaware. Alex creeps towards it and answers the call. Onscreen, it says ‘RESTRICTED’.

He gulps.

				ALEX
		Hello?

				VOICE
		Hello again.

				ALEX
		What the hell do you want!

				VOICE
		To help you. So you won’t repeat the
		same mistake that I did.

				ALEX
		What does Helena have to do with you?

				VOICE
		You think I’m just an anonymous tipster.
		No. I made a fucking mistake that almost
		got me killed, and you’re heading up my
		alley.

				ALEX
		You had a relationship with her?

				VOICE
		Like I said, all in good time.

He jumps to the conclusion, he’ll hang up. As it settles, he snaps in a loud voice.

				ALEX
		Don’t hang up on me dammit! I want to
		meet you. I want to know it all. 

				VOICE
		Alright then. I won’t give you the
		exact location, but here’s a hint:
		Heather O’Rourke.

The phone kills over. The Caller leaves Alex with his jaw dropped. He hurries to Frank, dead asleep.

				ALEX
		Wake up!

Frank stumbles out of bed, half asleep. 

				FRANK
			(groggy)
		What?

				ALEX
		It’s from that caller. 

				FRANK
		What about him?

				ALEX
		Were gonna meet him tonight.

Alex marches away, landing atop his mattress. He slides his feet into his shoes and begins to tie. 

				FRANK
		Where?

				ALEX
		Never said. All he mentioned was
		something about Heather O’Rourke.

A light bulb triggers in Frank’s head.

				FRANK
		That’s genius!

Alex laces the shoestrings in a snap. Frank shoots off towards the table. 

				ALEX
		Why? Who’s Heather O’Rourke?!

He stops.

				FRANK
		Heather O’Rourke was that child
		star who played Carol Anne.

				ALEX
		Doesn’t ring a bell...

Frank sighs...

				FRANK
		The girl from Poltergeist!

His eyes open with realization.

				ALEX
		Her?!

				FRANK
		Yes. Her!

				ALEX
		My god...you said she was a child
		star. Wouldn’t that mean she’s still
		alive?

				FRANK
		No. Didn’t they teach you this at
		USC?! She died from some liver 
		disease or some shit like that!

				ALEX
		Then where’s she buried?

				FRANK
		Same place where Marilyn Monroe
		was...

Another blip of realization hits him.

				ALEX
			(softly)
		Westwood Cemetery.

Both eye each other. Then, Alex picks off the car key from the drawer.

							CUT TO:

EXT./INT. BMW - EARLY MORNING

Neon lights in various colors race across the window. On the clock, it reads ‘3:42 am’. Frank is asleep once more, with a stolen pillow cushioning his head.

Alex however remains tireless, able-minded and set on his goal as ever. Racing the traffic, he enters an exit, taking a turn leftward.

				ALEX
		Hope this is for real.

							CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - WESTWOOD - MOMENTS LATER

The BMW pulls up to a parking spot. The engine kills over. The TWO escape and begin to walk towards a pathway. Continuing, they eventually lead up to an entrance poll:

	WESTWOOD CEMETARY

				FRANK
		This is the place.

				ALEX
		Let's get inside.

The two enter...

							CUT TO:

EXT. CEMETARY 

They walk over a pathway of cement. The bordering portions of grass are tagged with gravestones. An eerie mist fills the bottom. The ground is lost in a foggy abyss. 

Frank walks ahead, trying to warm himself in the early morning cold. Alex stays behind. Frank gets to the neck of the path, facing a...

							CUT TO:

EXT. MOSULEAM

A pristine, pearly white. Long, mystifying corridors rowed with plaques, a gallery of the dead. Gold lettering stenciled to them. Alex begins walking past, and stops at one. He reads;

		HEATHER O'ROURKE

Below is a ghostly image of her hand-drawn photograph. Aside, a few charms to comfort the dead. Alex looks straight towards her face.

				VOICE
		That could’ve been Drew Barrymore. 

He looks towards the other end. 

First the mist...then a SILLOUHETTE comes into order. Lean. Bipedal. It comes CLOSER; a MAN in his late twenties. He appears attired with used clothing. He lights a cigarette -- he is the CALLER

				ALEX
		I don’t get it.

				CALLER
		The point is that without my
		assistance, you’ll end up like her
		...dead.

Their hearts sink.

				FRANK
		So why do want to help us?

				CALLER
		So you won’t repeat the same mistake
		that I did.

A beat. 

				ALEX
		Tell us everything you know about
		Helena.

The Caller exhales a breath of smoke.

				CALLER
		You read the file, so that’s taken...
				CALLER (CONT’D)
		...care of. 

				ALEX
		But what are we dealing with. There
		was nothing but files about something
		when she was in high school. 

The Caller freezes. He remembers the past, his wounds coveted by this face. Alex’s eyes deepen with sharpness -- he knows who he is.

				ALEX
		You’re...that kid.

				CALLER
		I’m lucky I survived being hit by a
		softball bat. 

				FRANK
		That was ten years ago.

				CALLER
		After so, the police went up to Helena
		and put her with a Psychiatrist. It
		started to work out well, but after a
		year, the good doctor put a gun to his
		head and pulled the trigger. He knew
		how corrupt and dangerous she could be.
		He was absolutely horrified. 

				FRANK
		She’s like a leach.

				ALEX
		Like what?

				FRANK
		A leach. She latches onto you and					never stops sucking.

				CALLER
		Pretty much.

				ALEX
		Can’t we just stick her in a loony
		bin or something?
				CALLER
		You don’t fucking get it, don’t you?
		Once you’ve fallen into some sort of
		relationship with her, she’ll never
		leave you or cheat on you. And once
		you say that you want to break up or
		some other buttered up shit, she’ll
		never accept it! Period! Then she’ll
		never make sure you’ll never leaver
		her, by gutting you down in some
		horrific way. She never stops. She
		never learned to lose. 

				ALEX
		But now, her recent course of action,
		child’s play compared to anything
		else she did? 

				CALLER
		Not even close. Analyze it; you got
		her to be America’s sweetheart,
		bigger than Aniston or anyone else. 
		You set her up -- she never suspected
		a thing. Then, here’s where you fall
		- you basically did what all reality
		shows do; play with you. Lied! Punk’d!
		Whatever you call it, you broke her
		sense of reality. And breaking a
		Psychopath’s, we’ll you’re getting
		very bad results. 

				ALEX
		So if she keep on killing?

				CALLER
		You’re friend just said the answer
 		seconds ago. A leach. She’ll continue
		until the finale -- everything has a
		big finish; your family. There cattle
		on the way to the slaughter house.

				ALEX
		Have you ever went to the police about
		this?

The Caller hunches.
 
				CALLER
		They’ve looked into it, but all they
		get is her acting as some sobbing
		blonde that said I had my way with her.

				FRANK
		You went to prison.

				CALLER
		Three years. It was hell. Surrounded
		by guys from just about every gang in
		this county ready to riot when it calls
		for it. I was stuck in the middle of
		all this. 

				ALEX
		Is that it?

				CALLER
		You can say so.

He looks to the sky. Dawn is approaching.

				CALLER
		And I have to take off. You two, I
		suggest you forget you’re past and 
		start living off the grid. 

				ALEX
		Will we ever see you?

				CALLER
		That is something that is up to God to
		decide. 

He departs. Alex and Frank are bewildered by this knowledge. Both stand alone, gawking.

Frank sighs. Alex looks upwards, feeling a sense of authority. His expression intensifies. 

				ALEX
		We need to get to Tom.

				FRANK
		He’s probably already at the hotel.

				ALEX
		But no lesser from ending up six
		feet under! So we need to nail this
		bitch before she does. 

				FRANK
		Well then.

							CUT TO:

EXT. SUNSET BULEVARD - LATER - DAY

Palm trees in the air. The street leads to the infamous road sign:

		SUNSET BULEVARD

The BMW steers through mild traffic.
	
							CUT TO:

INT. BMW

Alex appears cynical. Not the laid-back person from before; nothing registering on his face. Frank appears a bit shaken, still in grief of Scortia.

				ALEX
		You’ve got a gun?

				FRANK
		Why’s that?
			(noticing what he is going
			to do with it; eyes bulging)
		No...it can’t come to this.

				ALEX
		We need to put her out.

				FRANK
		There has to be another way.

				ALEX
		There’s nothing else that’s capable
		of taking her out.

Frank quiets -- he knows what the consequence of this will lead to.

				FRANK
		You know what’s going to happen if
		you do this.

				ALEX
		I know.

				FRANK
		But we’ll have to lose everything. 
		My kids. My wife! And what about 
		Jeanette?

				ALEX
		I can take that chance.

				FRANK
		We can never go back!

A beat. Alex eyes him.

				ALEX
		I’m willing to take that chance.

He eyes swing back, looking dead center at the road ahead. Both remain quiet. 

				FRANK
		You don't know what you're getting
		into.

				ALEX
		Neither do you.

Beat. At the side mirror, the image of SPEEDING VEHICLE propels towards them. Alex sees it. He turns the wheel.

				FRANK
		What the hell are you doing?

				ALEX
		We've got someone on our tail.

Suddenly, the car begins to squirm across the streets.

							CUT TO:

EXT. INTERSECTION 

The BMW flies across the tarmac pursued by BLACK CAR. A small red flashlight tops the roof -- a police vehicle. 

							CUT TO:

INT. BMW

Alex grips the wheel, twirling left and forth. The speedometer climbs. Frank begins to sweat rapidly, feeling that there business has been discovered by the Police.

Then, he losses sight of the windshield resulting in a near collision. Alex reacts in a flash. The stop of the car shutters the interior.

							CUT TO:

EXT. STREET CORNER

A Mercedes is merely inches from the bumper.  The DRIVER appears angered and flips him off. In an instant, he shoots towards the street.

The duo expel from the doors. Frank appears flustered, noiseless.

Alex however, looks angered -- he's been through a lot. Grazing the back of his head, he notices the car from previously has stopped a couple of feet away. 

He now looks alerted. From the car, a WELL TRIMMED MAN steps out. He appears slick and eyes blocked by sunglasses. He approaches with a prose.
				MAN
		Mr. Rollins?

				ALEX
		Yes?

He comes to a distance. From his pocket a wallet and unveils a Police I.D.

				MAN
		Ryan Anderson, LAPD. Would you
		come down to the station?

				ALEX
		Why's that?

				MAN
		For questioning.

				ALEX
		For what?

				MAN
		Accordingly, you were colleagues
		with Mr. Scortia? 

				ALEX
		Hardly. But yes.

				MAN
		Well that places you under suspicion
		of murder. Now may we proceed?

							CUT TO:

EXT. MOTEL - IN SANTA MONICA

Tom expels from his car. Walking towards the entrance, he finds a vacant slot -- no one at the register. He stops at the glass, looking around.

							CUT TO:

INT. ENTRANCE

The chair is out of place. Tom begins knocking against the glass sheet. No one comes to light.
				TOM
			(muffled)
		Hello?
			(knocks)
		Anybody?

He departs. A red tint trails from the register, and down below THE OWNER’S CORPSE. His neck wove with the PHONE LINE. His eyes are red. Blood runs down his shirt, down to his jeans. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. MOTEL

Making his way towards the stair case, a FLY BUZZES through the air. The fly passes the building towards the back, where the GARBAGE BIN sits. 

The fly moves across the rim and into the interior where DISPOSED BAGS rest. Colonies of maggots scour the bags, unleashing a horrendous aroma.

One of the bags is open, unveiling a SLAUGHTERED PIG’S SNORT. Flies enter the nostrils. 

							CUT TO:

INT./EXT. THRESHOLD - ROOM SIX

The door is partially open. Tom creeps in. For a moment, he’s enveloped in pitch black. He rushes in the darkness. Then, he finds a switch and flips.

To his disgust, the entire room has been repainted with blood. Messages span the walls. Rants of death and torment. 

The aroma is all too bearing, and he expels from the room, in disgust. 

							CUT TO:

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - LATER

Dim-lit. It’s eerie and succumbing. Smoke stems from a cigarette. A COP yields it, taking in another breath. He appears cool, and suspicious.

Across, two sets of feet sit -- Frank and Alex. They appear paranoid and uncomfortable. Across the room is another COP. 

It’s dead silent. 

				COP 
		And that's it? 

				ALEX
			(icy)
		Yah. The whole nine yards.

The Cops look at each other and return to them.

				COP
		Did you murder Robert Scortia?

				ALEX
			(annoyed)
		I just spent two hours asking yes
		and no questions and how many
		fucking times can I tell that I 
		didn't murder anybody!

				COP
		Exploding at an authority figure is
		unnecessary. 

				FRANK
		Look, we answered what you wanted
		to hear, and where just clueless
		about what happened. 

A beat. He's met a point. The Cop looks to the other -- he nods in response.

				COP
		Okay then, thanks for coming and
		agreeing to our interrogation.

They arise from their chairs.

							CUT TO:

EXT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - DUSK

They expel from the doorway.

				ALEX
		We need to get in contact with
		Tom.
	
				FRANK
		Didn't you call him?

				ALEX
		I told him to go the motel.

RINGING. It generates from Frank's pocket. He picks out his cellular. He yanks it towards his ear.

				FRANK
			(into cell)
		Hello?
			(listens)
		Yah.
			(listens)
		Yah.

He passes it to Alex.

				ALEX
		Yah?
	
							CUT TO:

INT. CAR - IN MOTION

Tom makes his way through LA.

				TOM
		Helena struck.

INTERCUT - PHONE SEQUENCE

				ALEX
		What?

				TOM
		We need to meet up.

				ALEX
		Where?
			
				TOM
		How about Burbank?

				ALEX
		Wow! Wait up. Pull up somewhere...
				ALEX (CONT’D)
		...and wait for us to call back. 

				TOM
		Got it.

Tom clicks off and parks the car into a driveway. Through the windshield, a GUNSHOP is present. 

END INTERCUT SEQUENCE.

							CUT TO:

INT. CALLER’S DENIZEN - SAME

The Caller is at bay, watching a Star Trek episode play on a miniscule television set. Kirk is seen battling Spock as the tension of two long standing friend’s battle over a common goal - survival.

From the doorway, light stems through. A column of black covers the stream. 

He doesn’t notice it. The stream grows, with the shadow entering the home. A foot steps over the tiling. It’s fixed towards him.

He then notices it, but doesn’t react. A silhouette stands far along. He tries to blend into the sofa, but proves worthless. 

				CALLER
		So you’ve come to finish the job?
			(beat)
		About time. 

The shadow draws closer. Something reflects off a large blade; an AXE.

His pulse grows faster. 

				CALLER
		Better make it quick. 

It stands over, an arching figure. Its arms fold back, like a batter taking a prose -- to swing.

				CALLER
		I always loved you.

No mercy as the full force of clunky metal swooshes through the air space. SPLAT! Blood goes gushing, hitting the television screen blinding all but a pair of eyes, looking in nothing.

							CUT TO:

INT. TOM’S CAR - IN THE FREEWAY 

He’s at the wheel, swerving through traffic. 

In the backseat, a recently purchased SHOTGUN lays across the leather seating. 

From the mirror, he looks back -- at a BOX of AMMO. He pears at the sight. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - SAME

Alex’s BMW in a current of cars. 

							CUT TO:

INT. BMW - CONTINUOUS

				FRANK
		What do we do know?

				ALEX
		I don’t know. After what that guy
		said -- we’re screwed either way.
		
Frank dawdles on the dashboard.

				FRANK
		Tom.

				ALEX
		Let’s hope he’s doing better than
		us. 

Alex begins to laugh, yet nothing is funny about this.

				ALEX
		I never thought I’d end up in one
		of these...a scandal.

				FRANK
		Standard practice, I guess. 

				ALEX
		Better get used to living on the grid.

The cellular RINGS.

They don’t make eye contact, but swing there eyes back and forth. Frank picks it up, and puts it to his ear.

				FRANK
		Hello?

				PAM (O.S)
		Hi honey. 

A gasp of relief erupts from his mouth.

				FRANK
			(relieved)
		It’s so good to hear from you again.

				PAM (O.S)
		Why’s that?
		
				FRANK
			(lying)
		Work.

				PAM (O.S)
		Sure puts you out. 
			(pause)
		Anyway, I’m taking the kids to Venice
		They want to go to the Promenade. 

He closes his eyes in stress -- he’s carrying a lot of mental baggage.

				FRANK
		You do that.

				PAM (O.S)
		Bye.

She clicks out. 

				FRANK
		So where were we?

				ALEX
			(intensely)
		Finding a way to end this fiasco!

							CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - VENICE - CONTINUOUS

Pam, blurry at best, wipes past as she steers the Family Sedan into the direction of the Promenade. As her expanse grows, an arm extends out; Helena. 

In her hand, the CALLER’S CELLULAR. On the screen, the promenade reduced to pixels. She presses, and a picture appears. 

She goes through a menu, onto the text message. She sends it to; Frank cell.

She presses “send”.

							CUT TO: 

INT. CAR - CONTINOUS

The cellular rings, once more. Franks gets a hold of it and opens the screen. It says: Restricted. 

				FRANK
		It’s that guy. He text-messaged me.

He presses. On the screen, text: Remember this? He cocks an eye. A photo is attached and he opens it up. 

Alex takes a look and suddenly his stern expression fades. He’s completely enveloped in horror. In the picture: the promenade and his Wife’s car in the foreground. 

				FRANK
		That bitch...

				ALEX
		She found out. 

				FRANK
			(panicky)
		We got to get to Venice! 

Alex dawdles in the air, trying to find his illustrious keys and finally spots them. Picking them out, he jabs it into the ignition and turns. The ENGINE ROARS with FURY.

							CUT TO:

EXT. FREEWAY - DUSK

The sun’s radiance fades as the lights of moving vehicles take on the burden. Alex’s car races through the current of headlights.

							CUT TO:

INT. ALEX’S CAR - TRAVELLING - CONTINUOUS

Alex surfs through the traffic. Frank gets on the phone; he’s talking to Tom.

				FRANK
		...meet us at the Promenade. That’s
		where she’s due. 

				TOM (O.S)
		Okay. See ya in a few.

He clicks off. 

				FRANK
			(to Alex)
		How far are we?
				ALEX
		About twenty minutes.
			(pause)
		On what ride would your kids be on?

He turns in response. A CHILD’S SCREAM overlaps.

							CUT TO:

EXT. THE PROMENADE - NIGHT

A YOUNGSTER screams; his lips thick in melted ice-cream. As quickly, he’s forced away by the grip of his mother as they descend into a muster of people. 

Overhead, the FERRIS WHEEL turns. It’s a collage of colors. The occupants are silhouetted, backlit by the intertwining primary colors. 

PAM and her two children stroll across the pier: the illustrious Frank’s family. The kids are boys, one’s SEVEN, and the other’s FOURTEEN. Pam is somewhere lodged in her forties. 

A rumble emits from the seven-year old. He looks up to her and tugs on her sleeve. 

				CHILD 
		Mommy. 

				PAM
			(warm, gentle)
		What is it, sweety?

				CHILD
		I’m hungry.

				OTHER CHILD
			(rebellious tone)
		We already ate.

				CHILD
		But I didn’t finish the whole
		burger.

				OTHER CHILD
		Big deal.
				PAM
		Knock it of, son.

The fourteen-year old rolls his eyes. 

				PAM
		Ask away. 

				CHILD
		Something small.

				PAM
		How’s desert sound?

				CHILD
			(enthusiastically)
		Great.

				OTHER CHILD
		I’d go for sundae.

				PAM
		There you go. 

				CHILD
		Let’s ride the Ferris wheel after.
		
				PAM 
		Sounds like a plan.

They head on to the nearest eatery. As the amassing crowd disperses, a slender figure stands out; Helena. She turns her poise towards the Ferris wheel.

							CUT TO:

EXT. PARKING LOT - NEAR THE BEACH

Tom steps from his car, and opens the backdoor. He gets a hold of the shotgun and cocks it. 

Streams of light beam on his back and he quickly jerks back. It’s Alex and company.

He puts it down.

The lights kill over. The two step out. And travel towards him. Alas, the trio is united.

				TOM
		It’s a small world after all.

He notices the shotgun
	
				FRANK
			(re: the weapon)
		That’s a bit large, you think.

				TOM
		She’s got to go either way. 
			(cocks the gun)		
		Let’s move out. 

They depart. Marching across the tarmac, they approach the mouth of the pier. All are cool and unchanged in tension. Suddenly, the SHRIEK of a CAR skidding -- AND TOM BUCKLES IN!

A car rams into his stomach, as he flies back, landing a few feet. He lies on the pavement, still and quivering. Alex runs to him.

As for Frank, he goes to the DRIVER, whose expression is that of utter mistake. 

				FRANK
		The fuck’s wrong with you!

				DRIVER
		It was an accident, man!

				FRANK
		You could’ve looked!

				DRIVER
		The guy had a gun! 

				FRANK
			(to himself)
		Shit!

He marches up to the individual, who cuddles back into his car and quickly veers his way into the street, and disappearing.

Tom rolls over. His face is a deep pink. He spits out blood as he tries to talk. Alex holds his head, as he tries to prevent further blood loss. Alex turns away in disgust, but learns to deal with the sight. 

				TOM
			(trying to add humor to
			water down the situation)
		Well I’m spent.

				ALEX
		You’ll live. 

				TOM
		Get that bitch. 

The words ignite something in his mind. His eyes becoming piercing as if they were able to delve into one self’s soul. He rises, and marches up the wooden step, with the rest of the pier overhead.

							CUT TO:

EXT. PROMENADE - CONTINUOUS

The Child drops his discarded sundae into the black abyss of a trash can. And joins his mother’s side and they make there way to the Ferris wheel.

Alex rushes through people, muttering vulgarity in response of his brash actions. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. FERRIS WHEEL - CASHIER BOOTH

The CASHIER lies on the floor, with a SCREW-DRIVER through his eye ball. His fingers are in a prose. A foot kicks the corpse aside, carelessly. 

At the booth, Helena is incognito, with large-lens SUNGLASSSES blocking her eyes. 

				HELENA
		Welcome to the Ferris wheel.

				PAM 
		These two please.

She booms down, and gives a smile. The Child smiles back. Helena jerks back to her.
				HELENA
		Anything for these adorable 
		angels. 

The fourteen-year old gives a look; it’s obviously some corny put-on. 

She types across the cash register and a bill prints out. She opens the gate, and the two run to the compartment. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. PROMENADE - CONTINUOUS

Through the traffic of people, Alex spots the beast and her soon-to-be slaughtered flock. He races into a mob of tourists and trudges.

							CUT TO:

EXT. FERRIS WHEEL

A button turns GREEN. A THRUMMING NOISE ERUPTS...And the wheel begins to turn, cycling and gaining speed. 

The brothers rise, spread about in their compartment. Helena smiles. She turns a knob. The speed increases in response. The thrumming grows louder.

Rotation after rotation, the two seem to have fun. There arms are free, extending into the black of night. The other riders have mixed reactions. 

Pam appears not to worry. As long as her children are having fun, she’s having fun. Far ahead, Alex materializes nearby.

He rushes towards her, swerving through the always opposing frolicking tourists. 

Helena spots him. They make eye contact. She turns the knob. The speed grows. Signs of unrest register on the kid’s face; they want to get off now. 

No mercy. No mercy at all; she turns it further. A KLAXON ERUPTS, a warning. Pam now looks scared, and jumps at her, with the intensity of a lioness protecting her cubs.  

As quickly as she attacks, Helena SLINGS out a KNIFE nearly slitting her throat.

				HELENA
		Don’t take another step.
 
It’s a tense moment. Sweat trickles down her cheek. 

				HELENA (CONT’D)
		So much about motherhood...

Helena backs away, eaten up by the secluding dark. The Lioness is tamed. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. PARKING LOT - SAME

Tom catches the ambulance SIREN; there is hope for him after all. He grins, still gauging out blood.

				TOM
		I’m gonna make it, you hear that
		Frank...

He turns; nothing but open air. Tom looks to the Promenade, but the cloak of night proves to be an opposition. Also missing is the SHOTGUN, and the AMMO. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. FEERIS WHEEL - CONTINOUS

Alex appears. He finds the Pam, cuddled near the railing. He kneels to her side.

				PAM
		Alex...
			(sobbing)
		Am I a bad mother or what? 

				ALEX
		Don’t listen to whatever the fuck
		she said...
				ALEX (CONT’D)
		I’m getting your kids back. 

The words rejuvenate her. 

Above, the children are a pale white. The ride has become a coffin. The others who are lumbering in certain compartments fall under the ailment the brothers currently suffer from. 

Suddenly SPARKS FLY! 

The brothers are brought to ever more macabre as flames erupt. They cuddle with each other, the fourteen year-old vigilant, the seven year-old can only rest on his chest. Their hands grip one another.

Below, Alex struggles to gain control. Then he finds the master control and switches it off. The EAR-DRUMMING WHINE of the wheel DIES DOWN. 

And the compartments make landfall, and Alex confronts to reclaim the children. The brothers run to Pam, shedding TEARS, gripping them with tremendous love and strength; a true matriarch. 

He turns towards the opposite direction, where he spots Helena walking away. He makes a break for it. 

							CUT TO:
EXT. PROMENADE - CONTINUOUS

The klaxons have disrupted the repetitive actions of the tourists and have thrown them into a full scale mob. Alex struggles through the thick groups of people, as he scales up the pier towards the end. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. EDGE - PROMENADE - CONTINUOUS

The aroma of raw fish vexes his nose, but he doesn’t make a note of it. He’s focused on finding her, and she APPEARS flying from the fish nets. 

She yields a BLADE and cuts deep into his leg. He falls to his knees, screaming in pain. 

				HELENA
		Hoped you’d like it. 

She mounts it off. In her moment, Alex grabs her forearm and he pulls her off her feet. Bending her fingers back, she cries in agony and bites into Alex’s arm. He screams. The bite is so deep; blood begins to bleed through the bite marks. 

Now they turn over. Both of them fight each other off, hitting and scratching against one another. They get ever more rigorous, as they begin to bleed. 

A SILVER GLARE emits from her pocket. Alex catches sight of it and tries to sustain her from getting the blade. They turn over once more, and Alex gets his hands onto Helena. He begins to squeeze.

Under the crushing force, she struggles to breath. Her limbs fiddling, attempting to loosen his grip, but it proves fruitless. 

Then her face freezes. Her many shallow breaths begin to stop. And her twitching hands begin to relax. She ceases BREATHING. She’s gone. Her eyes remain fixed on him. Alex arises, and turns. It’s over. He releases a LONG and RELAXING BREATH, but a hand grips behind him.

He turns. In an instant, Helena shoots up and jumps towards him, letting out her BLOOD-CRY. Then, BOOM!  A bullet RIPS THROUGH her CHEST, and blood erupts. Another GUNSHOT and it punctures the left lung. 

She struggles to remain standing up. She gurgles in her own BLOOD as she gives an innocent face and falls over the railing. The SPLASHING accompanies. 

Alex gawks at the sight and turns to the SHOTGUN BEARER; FRANK. He stands alone. The wind brushing as smoke blooms from the barrel. 

							CUT TO:

EXT. UNDERWATER - CONTINUOUS

Her corpse falls gracefully through the depths. Falling from grace, she descends to Hades. 

						DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. EDGE - SAME

Frank and Alex are seated beside. Both seem accomplished and find it quite empty, not as gratified as once prescribed as. 

				FRANK
		So what do we do now?

				ALEX
		You’ve got a family. I’ve got no
		one. 

				FRANK
		You think you can get back in touch
		with Jeanette? 

				ALEX
		By the time she hears about this she’ll 			think this was an affair. 

				FRANK
		Not an affair...a fiasco. 

				ALEX
		True.

They catch the SOUND of POLICE SIRENS. 

				FRANK
		I guess it’s time we made the
		National Inquirer.

				ALEX
		I believe so. 

Both of them get on their feet and begin to stroll away. Once reaching a considerable amount of feet, they face the police line, blocking their only way to the beach. The LIGHTS emanating from the police vehicles become OVERLY BRIGHT, and INTERTWINE. 

FADE OUT. 

THE END