The Crow

 

 

Screenplay by                             David J. Schow

                                                 John Shirley

 

Produced by                               Edward R. Pressman

                                                 Jeff Most

 

Directed by                                Alex Proyas

 

 

 

Cast List:

 

Brandon Lee                            Eric

Ernie Hudson                           Albrecht

Michael Wincott                                  Top Dollar

Rochelle Davis                         Sarah

Michael Berryman                   Skull Cowboy

John Polito                               Gideon

David Patrick Kelly                 T-Bird

Angel David                             Skank

 

 

FADE IN:

 

 

EXT. CEMETERY – LATE AFTERNOON

 

BOOM! A crack of lightning illuminates the silhouette of a perched crow large in the f.g.

 

 

TIGHT ANGLE – FRESH GRAVE

 

As a spade smooths the walls of a new double-decker plot.

 

DIMITRI (O.S.)

We're losing the light; let's pack it in.

 

 

ANGLE – DIMITRI AND ALEXI

 

TWO GRAVEDIGGERS. Scoop digger parked f.g. towering gothic-style church b.g. Rolls of astro turf. They look up toward the sky.

 

ALEXI

Snow, maybe?

 

DIMITRI

What, you gonna ski on this?

 

He indicates the mound of fresh dirt. Spits into the grave.

 

DIMITRI (CONT'D)

Come on, let's bag this. It's beer time.

 

Alexi nods and unfurls the tarp over the dirt.

 

 

 

LOW ANGLE TRACKING SHOT – FLOWERS ON GRAVES

 

As we MOVE alongside a pair of canvas-sided combat boots, as the wearer collects the most lively flowers from each grave in sequence.

 

 

TIGHT ANGLE – THE CROW

 

Cemetery DEFOCUSED b.g. Large, glossy-black, the bird follows the arc of movement in the previous shot. Ruffles its feathers as it begins to sprinkle rain.

 

 

ANGLE – ELLY – RESUMING HER MOTION

 

A dirty-blondish tenement KID of eleven, clad in a blend of cast-offs and hand-me-downs; her version of street punk chic. She totes a skateboard under one arm (itself a berserk Jackson Pollock chaos of band stickers, silver marker and graffiti, with day-glo wheels), and transfers her impromptu bouquet so she may unzip a flap and hike up a ragged hood against the rain. She stops to watch the grave diggers pack up and EXIT b.g.

 

ELLY

Guess the picnic got rained out.

 

She looks down off screen at...

 

 

ANGLE – SHELLY WEBSTER'S GRAVE

 

As Elly places the gathered flowers down. Almost reverent.

 

 

RESUME CROW ANGLE – ELLY BACKGROUND

 

As Elly takes a single white rose and places it atop the grave near Shelly Webster's.

 

 

ANGLE ON GRAVE – AS ELLY LEAVES

 

TILT UP from rose to the name: ERIC DRAVEN. Rain spatters the granite, darkening it.

 

 

EXTREME CLOSEUP – CROW'S EYE

 

It blinks in its alien way.

 

 

WITH THE CROW

 

As it takes wing from it's unseen perch. Lands stop Eric's headstone. It pecks tentatively at the top of the monument.

 

 

ANGLE – ELLY NEAR ERIC'S GRAVE

 

She hasn't gotten too far before she notices the bird.

 

ELLY

Oh, scary.

 

The bird blinks at her from the headstone.

 

ELLY

What are you, like, the night watchman?

 

Another blink from El Birdo.

 

 

CAMERA WITH ELLY – BOOMING BACK HIGH

 

As she exits the iron gates of the cemetery without looking back. Brutal building facades, like dead eyes, and bad alleyways, like hungry mouths, are gradually revealed as we continue PULLING BACK to unveil that the cemetery is smack in the middle of the city.

 

 

EXT. MAXI-DOGS – TWILIGHT – RAIN CONTINUES

 

CLOSEUP of a foot-long hot dog being drowned in mustard.

 

MICKEY (O.S.)

What this place needs is a good natural catastrophe. Earthquake, tornado...

 

 

ANGLE – ALBRECHT AND MICKEY

 

ALBRECHT is a black beat cop, 35, in a rain slicker.

 

MICKEY is the grease-aproned entrepreneur of MAXI DOGS, a steamy open-front fast foodery.

 

ALBRECHT

You gotta put the mustard underneath first.

 

MICKEY

Maybe a flood, like in the Bible.

 

ALBRECHT

Here, let me do it.

 

He grabs the dog from Mickey. Mickey puffs his cigar while he cooks. Albrecht methodically spreads a napkin and performs surgery on the hot dog, coating the bun with mustard, rolling the dog in the bun. Flashes Mickey a "gimme" look.

 

ALBRECHT

Come on... onion. Don't cheap out on me. Lotta onions.

 

 

MOVING ANGLE – AS ELLY SKATEBOARDS TOWARDS MAXI DOGS

 

MICKEY

Heyyy – it's the Elly monster.

 

ALBRECHT

How do you ride that thing on a wet street?

 

ELLY

Talent. Hi.

 

ALBRECHT

Care for a hot dog?

 

ELLY

You buying?

 

ALBRECHT

I'm buying.

 

Elly grabs the stool next to Albrecht. They've done this routine before.

 

ELLY

No onions though, okay?

 

ALBRECHT

(horror)

No onions?

 

ELLY

They make you fart.

 

Mickey laughs. Spots Elly a Coke.

 

MICKEY

What's goin' on, Elly?

 

ELLY

I went to see a friend of mine.

 

MICKEY

Well, how's your friend?

 

ELLY

She's still dead.

 

Albrecht and Mickey exchange a look re: Elly's matter-of-factness.

 

 

EXT. CEMETERY – NIGHT (RAIN)

 

Thunder KABOOMS off screen The crow pecks the top of the stone again and a chip of granite flies off, bang!

 

 

EXTREME CLOSE – THE HEADSTONE

 

As the crow pecks again and draws blood from the rock.

 

 

CLOSEUP – THE CROW

 

A dot of blood on its ebony beak.

 

 

LOW ANGLE – HEADSTONE

 

A thin, watery trickle of blood wanders from the top of the stone towards the earth. Rain does not interfere. Lightning plays in the rolling cloud cover, b.g.

 

 

RESUME THE CROW

 

As it takes off from the gravestone, into the rain.

 

 

CLOSEUP – THE BLOOD

 

It slowly fills the name Eric Draven into the rock.

 

 

 

CLOSEUP – FOOT TAPPER

 

A LOW ANGLE like the SHOT introducing Elly's boot. This time we see cowboy boots, leather chaps. The foot taps. Waiting.

 

 

MEDIUM ANGLE – THE FOOT TAPPER

 

As lightning strikes. Just enough for us to see a figure in a long duster and a cowboy hat.

 

 

RESUME ERIC'S HEADSTONE

 

DRAVEN fills with blood. Blood continues groundward.

 

 

NEW ANGLE – THE FOOT TAPPER

 

Turning to meet FRAME as the crow alights on his outstretched arm. This is the SKULL COWBOY. We glimpse the deathshead, beneath the brim of the cowboy hat.

 

 

RESUME ERIC'S GRAVE

 

As blood trickles into the turf at the base of the grave.

 

 

TIGHT ANGLE – THE CROW

 

Shaking off rain. Watching intently.

 

 

CLOSEUP – THE SKULL COWBOY'S FREE HAND

 

Black gloved. It walks a flat silver throwing knife across it's knuckles, like a quarter somersaulting.

 

 

RESUME ERIC'S GRAVE

 

The turf stirs beneath the white rose. Magically, a slim white parts the earth to grasp the rose.

 

 

SKULL COWBOY POV – ERIC'S GRAVE

 

As the figure of Eric Draven stands up from behind his own headstone.

 

 

LOW ANGLE (FROM GRAVE) – ERIC

 

Pale. Clad in cerements: cheap black burial suit, slit open in back. White shirt. A nothing tie. No shoes. Rain sluices mud from his upturned face. He looks to the sky. Lightning.

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE – FOLLOW ERIC

 

As he weaves to lean against a nearby tree. Looks off screen.

 

 

ERIC'S POV – THE SKULL COWBOY

 

Water-blurred, through the rain, standing with the crow perched on his arm like a hunting falcon. He releases it and it flies to the tree.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC

 

Watching this. Wipes mud from his eyes, tries to clear vision. The crow lights in the tree and they meet eye-to-eye. Eric looks back offscreen and we RACK to include the Skull Cowboy.

 

ERIC

What the hell are you?

 

SKULL COWBOY

Interested? Follow the crow.

 

NB. The Skull Cowboy speaks in nicely distorted, buzzlike charnal house whisper. Unsettling and hackle-raising.

 

Eric turns back to the bird, which takes wing in the rain, His eyes follow it. He looks back, disoriented, doubtful, but the Skull Cowboy is gone.

 

 

LOW DEEP ANGLE – THE CROW

 

Taking wing in the rain, showing the way.

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE – ERIC

 

Alone in the cemetery. After a moments hesitation, he lurches off, following the crow.

 

DISSOLVE TO:

 

 

EXT. ARCADE GAMES SUPPLY OFFICE – NIGHT – TO ESTABLISH:

 

A candy-flaked muscle T-bird is parked at the curb.

 

 

INT. ARCADE GAMES SUPPLY OFFICE – NIGHT

 

A MOVING SHOT during off screen lines. Past dead video and pinball devices. Pasta desk with an open briefcase, coffee cup, ashtray – someone was just there. Then past a WOMAN, trussed with duct tape to her office chair, gagged, hot fear in her darting eyes.

 

COMPLETE CAMERA MOVE to include SKANK, a blade-thin speed freak with pattern baldness, always loud, jittery, a manic dust puppy. And T-BIRD, an arrogant Arayan, brush-cut iron pumper, who is prepping an incendiary. He exhibits a small squeeze bottle of arson cocktail to Skank.

 

T-BIRD

Uncle T-Bird's 100-proof accelerator. I squirt you with this, you could jump in the Detroit river and burn all the way to the bottom.

 

 

INSERT A CLOSEUP

 

Of the bomb in his hands as he works. Silver canisters, an LED timer, wires.

 

T-BIRD (CONT'D)

You know, Lake Erie actually caught on fire once, from all the crap in it. Wish I coulda seen that.

 

He CLICKS a switch. PEEP. LED countdown blurs.

 

T-BIRD (CONT'D)

We're ready to rock.

 

Skank notices the captive woman's handbag on the floor. Picks it up. Looks through it for valuables.

 

SKANK

What about working girl?

 

INTERCUT the woman's increasingly horrified reactions.

 

T-BIRD

What about her?

 

SKANK

I say we leave her here to fry, man.

 

T-Bird looks casually at the woman. Smiles hideously.

 

T-BIRD

No. Let's take her with us.

 

 

ANGLE – THE WOMAN

 

Her eyes bug in a terrified NO!

 

 

EXT. STREET – MOVING – NIGHT

 

As the T-Bird fishtails wildly around the corner and eats street.

 

 

INT. T-BIRD – TRAVELLING – NIGHT

 

TB drives. One eye on his digital watch (doing an equally fast countdown). Skank wrestles their captive, the woman, in the back seat.

 

TB

(pissed off)

Skank, shut her the fuck up!

 

Skank punches her and she sags. Then he looks forward.

 

SKANK

Whoaaa – T-Bird, red light, red light!

 

 

EXT. STREET CORNER NEAR MAXI-DOGS – NIGHT

 

As the T-Bird slews wide, cutting sidewalk, scattering nightwalkers, immediately attracting everybody's attention.

 

 

ANGLE – ALBRECHT – AT MAXI-DOGS

 

Reacting, with a mouthful.

 

ALBRECHT

Goddammit.

 

Mickey grabs the counter phone instantly.

 

MICKEY

Call it in?

 

Albrecht is off and running for the corner already.

 

ALBRECHT

Yeah, do it!

(to Elly)

Stay right there!

 

 

HOLD ON MICKEY

 

He points at Albrecht's hot dog. Yecch.

 

MICKEY

(yelling after)

You want I should save this for you?

 

 

EXT. MOUTH OF ALLEY ACROSS FROM CEMETERY – NIGHT

 

The car slides to a nose-down panic stop.

 

SKANK (O.S.)

Dump her, man, dump her!

 

The woman comes tumbling from the car, which blasts off with a war hoop from the guys inside.

 

 

ANGLE – CORNER – ON ALBRECHT

 

Gun out, hauling ass on wet pavement. Aims at the departing car. Gives it up. Still too far away. Pedestrians in the way.

 

 

ANGLE – THE WOMAN

 

Hurting, cut, bleeding, tottering toward the dumpster. Duct tape stuck to her face but cut away around her mouth. With her as she falls into the alley darkness... straight into the arms of

 

 

CLOSE TWO-SHOT – ERIC AND THE WOMAN

 

Their eyes lock. Eric stiffens with his first FLASH.

 

NB: Eric's flashes of past memory are conditioned by the nature of things with which he makes physical contact. Hints and fragments in fierce, super-saturated COLOR. Puzzle pieces he must assemble. Each flash keynoted by a BLOWBACK NOISE and accompanied by a degree of pain. It hurts to remember.

 

 

FLASH: INT. T-BIRD – WOMAN'S STRUGGLE

 

The faces of Skank and T-Bird are murky, ephemeral, their voices hideous, distorted echoes. A knife snaps open. We see the blade. Blood. Skank hits her, pow! and –

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE – ERIC AND WOMAN

 

An airborne crow POV spiraling up and away from them.

 

MATCH WITH:

 

 

ANGLE – THE CROW

 

Perched on a fire escape, high above, watching and waiting.

 

 

ANGLE – RESUMING ERIC AND WOMAN

 

She fades. He lets her drop away, horrified. And staggers back into the cover of the alley. Her blood is on his hands.

 

 

ANGLE – ALBRECHT RUNNING

 

Skidding in, spotting the woman. Kneeling to her.

 

ALBRECHT

Here now! You're gonna be okay! Can you understand me? I'm a police officer...

 

The woman is no longer in pain. Deathly calm now.

 

WOMAN

He touched me and it stopped. The pain.

 

ALBRECHT

What did you say?

 

WOMAN

I saw a ghost...

 

Her eyes roll back and she dies in Albrecht's arms.

 

ALBRECHT

Oh no... don't go, darlin', you stay with me, now... shit!

 

 

HIGH ANGLE CROW POV – THE ALLEY

 

BOOMING BACK from Albrecht, the woman, onlookers, as police units screech up to assist.

 

 

EXT. ALLEY BEHIND ARCADES GAMES SUPPLY HOUSE – ON ERIC – NIGHT

 

Eric in lurching flight, panting. Stops and steadies against the wall across from the backside of Arcade Games.

 

 

ANGLE – THE CROW (FLYING)

 

Circling, then lighting on the fire escape above Eric.

 

 

BACK WINDOWS OF ARCADE GAMES – ("CROWVISION")

 

"CROWVISION" is what the crow "gives" Eric to see. Visually distinct and immediately identifiable.

 

 

ERIC'S POV – BACK WINDOWS OF ARCADE GAMES

 

Which he's already seen through the crow's eyes.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC

 

Looking up at the crow. Disoriented. Doesn't understand. Suddenly he cottons, and covers his eyes just in time to shield from:

 

 

ANGLE – BACK OF ARCADE GAMES

 

The rear windows EXPLODING outward in a spray of fire and debris.

 

 

ANGLE – WITH ERIC

 

He reels back, crashes into a dumpster. Falls.

 

 

ANGLE – THE CROW

 

Landing on the dumpsters edge near a pair of discarded combat boots in the trash. Flames.

 

 

LOW ANGLE – ERIC

 

The blood from his hands mars his burial shirt. He tears the shirt away, leaving his tie absurdly intact. Wipes his face with his shirt. Discards it. Stops, held by his discovery –

 

 

PUSH IN ON ERIC

 

As his fingers explore the five puckered bullet punctures in his chest. Almost a circle. Comically, he feels his back foe exit wounds. Then hauls himself upright, coming level with the crow. His glance at the bird is almost accusatory.

 

 

ANGLE – THE CROW

 

Inscrutable. We should get the idea that some silent communication is taking place.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC'S FEET

 

Bare, muddied, frozen.

 

TILT to Eric. His gaze moves from the crow to the boots in the trash. He grabs them, pushes them onto his bare feet. His eyes catch the firelight. Distant off screen: SIRENS.

 

ERIC

Fire. In the rain.

 

DISSOLVE TO:

 

 

INT. CLUB TRASH – NIGHT

 

We are now within the neon techno-depths of Club Trash. The background music is hard, savage, primal: a doom-laden Radio Werewolf band rules. Cabaret Blitzkrieg, packed with Death-to-Yup trendazoids. We'll see more of this circus later. Right now the BACKGROUND SOUND is our biggest clue to the flavor of this establishment since we are –

 

 

TIGHT CLOSEUP A FRAMED 8X10

 

Thinly filmed in dust, mounted among dozens of other band shots. Visible among the posed members of a group called Diabolique is Eric, wielding guitar on the club stage. ND BLUR as people CROSS FRAME.

 

GRANGE, 45-50, powerful, a seasoned assassin, cruel but loyal. His facade remains stony as he leads three other men briskly down the corridor: NGO NWA, 50ish, clad Chinese gangster style – white topcoat, white scarf, tinted shades – and two body guards supplying a power perimeter around him, lean, dark-haired Asian killers who would gladly die for Ngo Nwa, which they will in just a minute.

 

They have just passed the Diabolique 8X10. Ngo Nwa's gloved fingers, in passing, leave little skid tracks in the dust that clear the eyes of Eric in the photo.

 

As the foursome reaches the DOOR, Grange turns doubtfully – suspiciously – to Nwa.

 

NGO NWA

He will see me... unannounced.

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE – THE DOOR

 

As Grange keys in the enter code the door hisses open. Without a word, Nwa passes inside and the door is pulled shut in Grange's face by the Bodyguards, who post themselves to either side.

 

 

INT. LAO'S NIGHTCLUB OFFICE – NIGHT

 

The door CLOSES and the BACKGROUND NOISE is GONE. Through a large window (mirrored on the club side) all sorts of activity is visible through automatic mini-blinds. A fly-vision bank of 12 TV monitors is hot with surveillance.

 

LAO, a painfully clean-cut, Armani-clad Asian, impeccable, almost dashing, but the dynamic here is crystal clear: Nwa is the King: Lao, the dark prince in this hierarchy.

 

At the desk, Lao is startled from his contemplation of a tiny, perfect rat skeleton by Ngo Nwa's unheralded entry. The desktop is bare except for and Arcane Vietnamese fighting knife, half a meter long with an ideogrammed blade, dramatically positioned beneath an Artemide lamp. Lao rises and feigns servility.

 

NB: The following exchange will play FAST, and entirely in VIETNAMESE.

 

LAO

(formal greeting)

 

NWA

(dismissiveness, contempt, then chastizing anger as:)

 

Nwa INDICATES the blade with some ridicule.

 

LAO

(phony assuagement)

 

NWA

(knows it's bullshit)

 

Lao turns, staring out the blinds, fighting for control. Deep breath. He turns back to his "master." Nwa gestures broadly at the opulent office, indicating that Lao should be grateful, but is somehow errant

 

NWA

(respect is required)

 

LAO

(begrudging agreement)

 

Lao sees the blade. An idea. He lifts it reverently, bears it the Nwa hilt-first in both hands, as if bestowing a thing of immeasurable worth.

 

NGO NWA

(why give me this?)

 

Nonetheless, Nwa accepts the blade. It gleams. Hypnotic. Even Nwa has to admire it. Turns it so the blade is pointed at his sternum. His attitude indicates Lao is too far away to do anything untoward.

 

LAO

(sinister punchline)

 

Lao spins through the air and HEEL-KICKS the blade THROUGH Nwa's chest, pinning him to the door. It's over so fast the gasp of astonishment never escapes Nwa. Lao is much more than merely treacherous, he is extremely capable.

 

LAO

(in perfect English)

When I spoke of an offering, I didn't mean an offering to you.

 

 

INT. CORRIDOR – NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)

 

Grange, standing out of arm's reach in the corridor, kills both Bodyguards with a double headshot as they turn in greeting as the door OPENS.

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE – CORRIDOR – LAO, GRANGE, AND CORPSES

 

Lao exchanges a look with his right arm; Grange nods affirmatively.

 

GRANGE

You gonna smoke his bones now, or however it is you do it?

 

Lao smiles indulgently. He wipes the blood from the blade on the jacket of his ex-lord. Lao now bows to no one.

 

 

EXT. FIRE ESCAPE – ANOTHER ALLEY – NIGHT

 

Eric, wearing the combat boots, climbs as the crow leads him. Up. He jams his hand on a rusty wedge of metal. Ouch.

 

 

CLOSEUP – ERIC'S PALM

 

Blood flows from the gash. He vises his fist shut.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE

 

Eye-to-eye with the crow. Opens his hand.

 

 

CLOSEUP – ERIC'S PALM

 

The blood flows back into the wound, which closes itself, leaving another scar.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC

 

Vising the rail. Speaks to the night. Almost a mantra.

 

ERIC

"My kitten walks on velvet feet, and makes no sound at all. And in the doorway nightly sits to watch the darkness fall. I think he loves the lady night..."

(to Crow)

Am I alive? Am I dead? Something else? Something in between?

 

 

CLOSEUP – THE CROW

 

Inscrutable. No answer here.

 

 

RESUME ERIC

 

Almost bemused. Steadier. A hint of friendliness.

 

ERIC

Thanks for sharing that.

 

 

ETC. GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP – NIGHT

 

As the T-Bird grumbles op park curbside. Menacing.

 

 

INT. GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP – NIGHT

 

A junkyard of loot and dusty discards. Junkie thievings and other people's stereos. Behind a wire-meshed security counter GIDEON reads a racing form, chain-smoking throughout the scene. He is pear-shaped, stubbled, unkempt. Food on his shirt. JINGLE of doorbells. Gideon lowers his paper to reveal Skank and T-Bird on approach.

 

GIDEON

Ahhh, Jesus, the creatures of the night, here they come. Tweedledum and Tweedledummer.

 

Skank riles.

 

SKANK

Hey, blow me, fat boy!

 

Just as quick, Gideon cocks and levels a Magnum at Skank.

 

GIDEON

Blow yourself, bigmouth.

 

T-BIRD

(interposing)

Whoa, hey, whoa.

(hands up)

Business.

 

He lifts a small carton onto the counter.

 

GIDEON

Whatcha got?

 

 

NEW ANGLE – COUNTER

 

Transaction time. T-Bird passes items through the screen slot and Gideon gives each one cursory, doubtful inspection.

 

T-BIRD

Coupla more rings... 24k.

 

GIDEON

18k. Crap.

 

T-BIRD

... necklace... pearls...

 

GIDEON

Nineteen bucks at Sears. Fake,

 

T-BIRD

Leather purse...

 

He hands though the bag rested from the woman.

 

GIDEON

What's this – a little, ah, bloodstain, right?

(doesn't matter)

Fifty bucks for the box, and I'm doin' you a –

 

T-BIRD

Yeah, I know, fatso. Do us all a favor. Make Top Dollar smile.

 

SKANK

You wouldn't want Top Dollar not to smile.

 

Mention of Top Dollar clams Gideon efficiently up. He hands over the cash to T-Bird with a grimace.

 

 

EXT. ROOFTOP – ON ERIC – NIGHT

 

Eric stares upward at the crow as it drops like a bomber from the night sky, flying past him, skimming the roof, leading him on. Eric exhales, shrugs, feeling mocked by the bird.

 

ERIC

All right.

 

And he takes off on a run. Only to stumble and fall. But the falls turns into a TUMBLING ROLL that lands Eric back on his feet still moving. He looks back as if to ask: "Did I do that?" and runs out of the frame.

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE – PICKING UP ERIC ON THE RUN.

 

As he squints towards the crow and does his best to keep up. TRACK WITH HIM to the edge of the roof, heavily misted in rain.

 

He jumps a negligible gap to the next lower roof. The next roof-top is a one-story jump down. Eric clears the jump with a WOOF of air. Keeping his eyes on the flying crow; gaining strength. His next leap is more like a broad-jump. Athletic.

 

 

FAST MOVING ANGLE – THE CROW

 

Keeping airborne, keeping ahead.

 

 

MOVING ANGLE – ERIC

 

Eyes confidently on the sky as he arches out into space...

 

 

UP ANGLE FROM STREET – BUILDINGS

 

As Eric is seen to jump across the gap at least three stories up where there is no connecting building.

 

 

CLOSE ANGLE – TARGET BUILDING LEDGE

 

As Eric smashes into it, just missing, hinging at the waist, grabbing for purchase, suddenly panicked, gravity pulling him downward.

 

 

ANGLE – AT ERIC FROM PHONE CABLE BRACKET

 

Eric falls but manages to grab the bracket one-handed. He hangs for another deadly moment, then slowly, to his own astonishment, executes a one-handed pull-up that will save his ass.

 

ERIC

Gotcha.

 

He completes the pull-up, bringing his chin level with the ledge. As he reaches for it with his other hand the bracket rips from the wall and Eric plummets, with a howl of defeat.

 

 

UP ANGLE FROM STREET – ERIC'S DOWNFALL

 

It's a looooooong way down.

 

 

ANGLE – ALLEYWAY

 

As Eric lands and splits a trash can in two. A beat as we wonder if any bones are left unpulped. PUSH IN as Eric rolls from facedown to his back.

 

 

TIGHT SHOT – ERIC'S FACE

 

As he completes the roll, gasping, amazed he's still in one piece.

 

 

ANGLE – TRASHCAN – ON THE CROW

 

It flies easily down to inspect Eric as he slowly sits up, examining his hands. Frustrated and pissed off.

 

ERIC

Thanks.

 

 

CLOSEUP – THE CROW

 

Not "your welcome", but other-worldly patience. It waits.

 

 

RESUME ERIC

 

ERIC (CONT'D)

Where're we going next – the sewer?

 

 

EXT. ROOFTOP – NIGHT

 

Still, dark silence until Eric lands from ABOVE FRAME, feline. The crow lands simultaneously b.g., perched near a roof access door with a shaded, dim-yellow bulb.

 

 

CLOSEUP – THE CROW

 

It just blinks at him.

 

 

INT. ABANDONED STAIRWELL – NIGHT

 

As Eric yanks open the rusty rooftop door from the outside and sweeps down the steps in a swirl of night mist.

 

 

ANGLE – FOOT OF STAIRS

 

Trash and detritus all around, clogging the arteries of the building, which is old, unoccupied, forsaken. The crow lights on a scarred banister knob. Eric's footsteps come down into frame.

 

 

ANGLE ON LOFT DOOR – INCLUDE ERIC

 

A year ago this door was sealed with police barricade tape... which now sags, faded.

 

A sticker across the jam notifies potential trespassers that this is – was – a crime scene. Eric slows, stops, his hand on the banister.

 

 

ANGLE – THE CROW

 

As is wafts ahead of Eric, arriving at the door first.

 

 

ANGLE ON ERIC, THE DOOR, THE CROW

 

Eric has had enough.

 

ERIC

Are we finished yet?

 

 

CLOSEUP – ERIC'S HAND ON BANISTER

 

Sliding along, as he speaks, until it hits a cigarette burn.

 

 

PUSH IN ON ERIC – TIGHT

 

Stiffening as he suffers his second –

 

 

FLASH: IMAGES AND DIALOG ARE NOT LINKED

 

A rapidfire MONTAGE set in the loft, a year earlier (it is decorated for Halloween).

 

The broken door. The stairwell is filled with cops and cop noise; lab guys bustle. Albrecht is there, making notes as a DETECTIVE steps over to him.

 

ALBRECHT

Victim's name is Shelly Webster. The guy who got tossed is, uh...

(checks his notebook)

 

Albrecht grinds out his smoke on the banister.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

RESUME ERIC ON THE STAIRS.

 

He sits down hard, hurting from the flash. His eyes seek the crow. He completes Albrecht's line:

 

ERIC

"Draven, Eric."

 

 

EXT. THE PIT – NIGHT

 

LOW DOLLY of Elly's little combat boots moving toward the entryway of the pit. MUSIC gradually UP LOUDER off screen as she nears.

 

 

ANGLE – ELLY IN DOORWAY

 

Luridly-lit. A grown-up's place. A burly BOUNCER appraises her, his tone jokey. He knows Elly.

 

BOUNCER

Hey! You got any ID?

 

ELLY

Very funny. Ha. Ha. Oh my, sides.

 

The Bouncer jerks a thumb. Go on in.

 

 

INT. THE PIT – NIGHT

 

A grungy sawdust-floored shot-and-beer joint packed tight with urban BURNOUTS rushing to drink their lives away. Hammering MUSIC and rude whorehouse lighting. Each predator straining to be badder than the next.

 

TRACK THROUGH this maze at Elly's eye level until we reach DARLA, waitressing her heart out, the drug mileage on her obvious.

 

ELLY

Mom?

 

DARLA

I told you you're not supposed to come in here.

 

ELLY

(a quick lie)

I lost my key.

 

Disgustedly – goddamn kids – Darla fishes up a key and slaps it into Elly's hand.

 

FUNBOY (O.S.)

Hey, Darla – before we die of old age, how about it?

 

DARLA

(to Elly)

Out. Now. I gotta work.

 

RACK PAST Darla and MOVE IN CLOSE on a corner table – where sit Funboy, Skank, T-Bird and a black, vested muscle gypsy, TIN-TIN.

 

 

INT. LOFT – NIGHT

 

As Eric shoves the door open from the outside. The lock, popped from the frame, spins on the wooden floor. The barrier tape whisps and dust roils. Dark, chilly, damp. A rat's nest of disuse.

 

 

PULL BACK THROUGH THE BROKEN PICTURE WINDOW

 

As Eric enters. Glass blown out. Shards poking. Jagged.

 

 

NEW ANGLE – AS ERIC WALKS IN

 

He scans the loft. Sees reflecting golden eyes near the floor.

 

 

ERIC'S POV – FLOOR NEAR WINDOW

 

A white, long-haired cat walks into a pool of night light.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC AND THE CAT

 

He kneels. Extends his hand. The cat nears; likes Eric.

 

 

CLOSEUP – ERIC'S HAND

 

As the cat makes contact. Sudden white jolt – a FLASH.

 

 

FLASH: WE HEAR ERIC STRUMMING HIS STRAT OFF SCREEN

 

We see what he saw: Shelly, holding the cat.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

UP ANGLE – ERIC

 

Wincing. Recovering from the flash. He purposefully gathers the cat into his arms and braces for more, harder, stronger...

 

 

FLASH: A MAN AND A WOMAN

 

Make love on a big bed amidst a hundred points of candlelight. Shelly and Eric, once upon a time.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

REVERSE ANGLE FROM BEDROOM DOOR – ON ERIC

 

As the cat, dropped, hits the floor and scrambles out of the way.

 

 

CLOSEUP – ERIC

 

Vising his head, teary-eyed, his nose bleeding.

 

ERIC

No! Don't look! No! No!

 

He whirls unexpectedly and punches his fist completely through the masonry wall.

 

 

FLASH: ERIC AND SHELLY IN A MOCK WALTZ

 

He spins her and they collapse on the bed.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC

 

Slowly pulling his arm out of the wall.

 

ERIC

(whispering)

Stop it.

 

His eyes roll up and he slumps the length of the door frame like a drowning man.

 

 

ANGLE – GABRIEL

 

Watching Eric. He hits with an offscreen THUD.

 

 

INT. THE PIT – ON FUNBOY'S TABLE – NIGHT

 

As a gloved hand sets up four bullets next to four shots.

 

FUNBOY (O.S.)

Let's have some fun.

 

Funboy pops the bullet, like a contact capsule and washes it down. T-Bird turns to Tin-Tin, the new guy.

 

T-BIRD

You first.

 

TIN-TIN

You're outta your fuckin' mind.

 

Into it, almost jazzed, Tin-Tin downs his bullet and shot, and T-Bird does likewise. Points to Skank.

 

T-BIRD

No. I'm not the lunatic. He is.

 

Skank riles, pulls a huge Auto Mag and sticks it in T-Bird's face, cocking.

 

SKANK

Fuck you, T-Bird.

 

Just as lightning fast, T-Bird has his own gun out and jammed right under Skank's jawbone. He makes a kissy face.

 

T-BIRD

I love you too, you madman.

 

They all crack up laughing like ax murderers. Skank drinks, Tin-Tin spot checks the satchell from Top Dollar's. Darla delivers more shots and Funboy feels her ass.

 

FUNBOY

Hey, pussycat.

 

 

INT. LOFT – DOWN ANGLE (CROW POV) – ERIC ON FLOOR

 

He's awake. Pushes himself up.

 

 

REVERSE ANGLE – THE CROW

 

Is perched in a dead light fixture, monitoring Eric.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC ON FLOOR

 

He's awake. Pushes himself up. Realizes he is in the center of a faint chalk outline on the hardwood floor. He reaches to touch the dark stain of old blood.

 

 

FLASH: SHELLEY SPILLS INTO FRAME

 

Mouth bloodied. T-Bird instantly on top of her, rough.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

ANGLE – WITH ERIC

 

As he abandons the outline and staggers to the window... where he cuts open his hand on jags of glass.

 

 

FLASH: ERIC HELD FIRM

 

In the grasp of T-Bird and Funboy, one arm each. Five bloody bullet holes in Eric's chest.

 

The thugs 1-2-3 and hurl Eric backwards through the window, which shatters.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC AT THE WINDOW

 

Reeling backward, same trajectory as in the Flash, but toward the floor, in SLOW MOTION. Overloaded. Blacking out.

 

 

AS ERIC FALLS – INTERCUT MONTAGE

 

A jumble of good/bad images from the loft: Tin-Tin embedding a page of paper in the loft wall with a throwing knife... Shelly's face as she lights a candle... a POPPING champagne cork... the echoing CANNONADE of the shots that killed Eric... Skank backhanding Shelly... Shelly blowing bubbles from a clawfoot tub full of suds... Eric catching Funboy's first slug high in the chest...

 

 

NEW ANGLE

 

Of the glass in the window blowing out as T-Bird and Funboy through Eric through...

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC'S REAL TIME FALL

 

He plummets to BLACK OUT FRAME. THUMP. Out cold.

 

 

INT. PIT – RESUMING FUNBOY'S TABLE – NIGHT

 

Funboy contemplates his drink as the previous scene reverbs.

 

FUNBOY

More fun than a torture chamber.

 

Tin-Tin's pocket pager goes BEEP and startles them all. Skank nearly shoots it, jumpy. Tin-Tin pulls back on a black leather trenchcoat after clicking off the pager.

 

TIN-TIN

I hate this goddamn thing...

 

 

ANGLE – DARLA

 

Watching them from a distance as Tin exits.

 

 

INT. LOFT – FLOOR LEVEL – NIGHT

 

An enormous cockroach trundles past, large in FRAME. RACK to show Eric lying on floor b.g. as his eyes pop open. A flurry of dark motion as the crow flies past frame.

 

 

ANGLE – THE CROW

 

Having snatched the bug in it's beak. Eats it.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC

 

Rising from the floor. Careful. Stealthy. Watches his fireplace.

 

ERIC

We have company.

 

 

ANGLE ON FIREPLACE

 

Huge. Marble. Cold. Eric's paper mache masks of Comedy and Tragedy still hang there. The Skull Cowboy steps out of the dark and into the vague blue light. Shadowy as ever.

 

SKULL COWBOY

Having fun yet? No?

(beat)

I'll give you a hint. Remember whatshername?

 

ERIC

Shelly?

 

SKULL COWBOY

Miss her?

 

ERIC

Yes.

 

SKULL COWBOY

Kill the men who killed you both, and the Day of the Dead will be your reunion.

 

The Skull Cowboy prestidigitates a flat throwing knife(like Tin-Tin's). Eric's gaze follow it closely.

 

SKULL COWBOY (CONT'D)

You must use your eyes.

 

He points to the crow.

 

 

ANGLE – THE COMING KNIFE – ("CROWVISION")

 

Weirdly distorted, a shared vision between Eric and the crow.

 

 

TIGHT ON ERIC

 

As he DUCKS out of the path of the knife he sees through the bird's eyes. He rolls.

 

 

ON THE CROW

 

It hops out of the way as the knife embeds in the wall. Eric's ROLL finishes him up nearby.

 

ERIC

Goddammit.

 

He grabs for the knife as if to use it on the Skull Cowboy, but the knife causes an unexpected painful FLASH.

 

 

FLASH: ERIC BOUNCING OFF THE BEDROOM DOORFRAME

 

Tin-Tin's knife stuck in his shoulder.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

RESUME ERIC

 

Vising his head with his hands, in pain. Too much pain.

 

SKULL COWBOY

Get it?

 

ERIC

Leave me alone!

 

He looks up, the Skull Cowboy is still there.

 

SKULL COWBOY

(contempt)

Do something about it.

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE – ERIC AND THE SKULL COWBOY

 

A horrible beat between them. The Eric runs full tilt across the room, bounding to the open window and then leaping.

 

 

ANGLE – SKULL COWBOY

 

As close to surprise as he gets. Steps out to watch as –

 

 

ANGLE ON WINDOW – ERIC

 

FLIES feet first out into space.

 

 

CLOSEUP – BRICKWORK ABOVE WINDOWFRAME

 

Eric's fingers smash into grip the tiny mortared gaps!

 

 

EXT. LOFT BUILDING – UP ANGLE FROM STREET – NIGHT

 

High above, Eric's feet shoot out the window, knocking loose stray shards that fall toward frame. He swings into an upside-down pose, impossibly holding himself rigid against the building's side, face down. by his quarter-inch finger grip.

 

 

CLOSEUP – ERIC

 

Every muscle rigid, quivering with tension. Hold. Then he relaxes, and swings back inside.

 

 

INT. LOFT – AT WINDOW, PICKING UP ERIC – NIGHT

 

He arches, flips, to land on his feet. The Skull Cowboy is gone. No knife either. The crow watches. Off screen "meow".

 

 

ANGLE – WITH ERIC AS HE TURNS TO SEE THE CAT

 

ERIC

I guess I'm not ready to leave... just yet.

 

He picks up the cat – wary of flashes, which don't come this time – and returns to the window. Feeling safer.

 

ERIC (CONT'D)

The last time we saw each other, I didn't do so well.

(holds cat up)

Huh, Gabriel?

 

He moves to the fireplace. With his free hand, lifts the Tragedy mask off its hook. Puzzles it, fact-to-mask.

 

ERIC (CONT'D)

I bet you need some cat food... right?

 

 

EXT. STREET – NIGHT – ESTABLISHING

 

Eric walking, the Tragedy mask hanging from his hip. An occasional PEDESTRIAN passes without comment, brutalized by the city. Eric, more confident, smells the night's bouquet.

 

 

EXT. ALLEY – NIGHT ("CROWVISION")

 

Two men around a trashcan fire. We should recognize Tin-Tin by his black leather trench coat. A wonderfully rude Rap tune, "Got a White Woman Tied Up in My Closet, Gonna Jab Her With a Stick,"

 

RAZZLES background.

 

 

EXT. STREET – RESUMING ERIC – NIGHT

 

As Eric reacts to what the crow has just seen. Slows. Stops. And directs his attention toward the mouth of the alley.

 

 

EXT. ALLEY – TIGHT ON TIN-TIN – NIGHT

 

He pulls the nickel plated revolver from the satchel. FOLLOW as he hands it across to RATSO, who removes the suitcase-sized boom box (the source of the music) from his shoulder to accept. Ratso is a feral skull-head; street trash.

 

TIN-TIN

Three hundred and your a gunslinger.

 

 

HIGH ANGLE – TIN-TIN and RATSO

 

As the crow is still watching, yet perched. A brief shove-and-standoff. The gun deal has gone bad.

 

RATSO

Please, Tin-Tin, you know I'm good for the money, man, I promise, Leslie put me up to it, please, man, don't –

(choking scream)

 

Tin-Tin has just up-rammed a throwing knife into Ratso.

 

TIN-TIN

Ratty – shut the fuck up.

 

Tin-Tin lifts Ratso on the knife, gutting him. Ratso goes slack, deader'n hell. Tin-Tin reaches around to click OFF the boom box... then let's Ratso`s corpse fall.

 

ERIC (O.S.)

Another satisfied customer?

 

 

TIGHT ANGLE – TIN-TIN

 

Galvanized by the surprise voice. He automatically draw a fresh knife from the bandolero of knives across his chest inside the coat. Can't yet track the source of the voice.

 

TIN-TIN

Who the hell is that?

(beat, venomous)

Come on out man, I won't hurt you.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC IN ALLEY

 

He steps out from behind another flaming trashcan. Wearing a long black scarf and the Tragedy mask.

 

ERIC

Hello, Tin-Tin.

 

 

ANGLE ON TIN-TIN – AS HE RISES (FROM RATSO)

 

Trying to process what he sees. And cover. And buy time.

 

TIN-TIN

Little early from trick-or-treat, homie.

(re: Ratso)

This dick trying to bushwack me.

 

ERIC

Murderer.

 

Tin-Tin blows out a breath. No bluff. Time to kill again.

 

TIN-TIN

Guess you got that goddamn right.

 

He shrugs. The shrug becomes the launch of a knife.

 

 

TIGHT SHOT – MOVING – ERIC

 

His black-gloved hand slaps away the incoming knife and inch from his nose. It CLATTERS. Eric continues striding toward Tin-Tin.

 

ERIC

Try harder. Try again.

 

 

SHIFTING ANGLE – ERIC NEARS TIN-TIN

 

As Tin-Tin throws another knife. Eric closing in. He claps hand together, immobilizing the next knife. Opens his hands, almost an "oops" gesture. Keeps on coming.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC AND TIN-TIN

 

As they meet. Tin-Tin attempts a roundhouse. Eric blocks it and smashes Tin-Tin into the alley wall.

 

ERIC

A year ago. Halloween. A man and a woman. In a loft. You helped to murder them.

 

TIN-TIN

Last Halloween, eh? Yeah...

(beat)

Yeah, I remember. I fucked her too, I think.

 

ERIC

You cut her. You raped her.

(rage)

You watched!

 

TIN-TIN

Hey, I got my rocks off, so fuck you in the ass, man.

 

They're face-to-face now, sweaty and tense. Eric peels off the Tragedy mask.

 

ERIC

I want you to tell me a story, Tin-Tin.

 

TIN-TIN

I don't know you...

 

But, as Eric bears down on Tin-Tin, Tin begins to recognize him. Fear. Sweat.

 

For the first time, Tin-Tin starts to loose control.

 

TIN-TIN (CONT'D)

Holy shit... you're dead, man...

 

 

EXTREME CLOSEUP – ERIC

 

ERIC

Victims. Aren't we all.

 

 

INT. LOFT – NIGHT

 

TIGHT ANGLE – TABLETOP

 

As Eric's hands place Ratso's boom box on the table and click on suitable weird background MUSIC.

 

 

ANGLE – FLOOR LEVEL

 

Eric's boots pass frame. An open can of cat food CLANKS down big in foreground as Eric walks background obviously wearing Tin-Tin's trenchcoat. Gabriel noses into to frame to eat from the can.

 

 

INT. LOFT, BEDROOM – NIGHT (LATER)

 

Shelly's vanity. Dusty, disused. The mirror spiderwebbed with cracks but still hanging precariously in its frame. Eric is seated, his image crazily split into many. He pulls on a long-sleeved, tight-knit, black shirt.

 

WIDEN ANGLE to reveal the loft now lit with dozens of candle stubs. Placed all around. Ceremonial and weird.

 

 

CLOSEUP – ERIC

 

ERIC

Halloween is coming. The Day of the Dead...

 

In the mirror, multi Eric's. He touches the glass, tightening up as he realizes he's in for another –

 

 

FLASH: SHELLY

 

Sleeping on her divan, a year ago, wakes as Eric (O.S.) says "Boo". She cracks an eye open.

 

SHELLY

Your scary quotient needs work.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE – ERIC AT VANITY

 

Considering old cosmetics. Everything he touches will hurt him. But he's ready to eat this pain. He grabs a lipstick.

 

 

FLASH: SHELLY

 

At the vanity in happier times

 

SHELLY

I think red's my color, don't you?

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

RESUME ERIC

 

Wincing. He drops the lipstick on the floor. Grabs a hairbrush.

 

 

FLASH: ERIC

 

Smashes into the street after his death-fall, trailing broken glass.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

NEW ANGLE – ERIC AT VANITY

 

Later. He's wearing white pancake makeup on his cheeks. Shaky.

 

 

FLASH: ERIC

 

Sucks up Funboy's gunshots in the chest. 1-2-3-4.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

RESUMING ERIC AT VANITY

 

His face a crazy warpaint maze of white streaks, not blended yet. He looks at his own reflection. In one cracked, triangular facet of the mirror is not a multiple of his face, but the Skull Cowboy. Just one.

 

SKULL COWBOY

Glad to see you're finally with the program.

 

ERIC

Bugger off to the graveyard, skull-face, I'm busy.

 

SKULL COWBOY

You work for the dead. Forget that, and you can forget it all.

 

The Cowboy tips his hat and isn't there. Eric sees the crow perched on the edge of the mirror now.

 

ERIC

Forget this.

 

He smears the streaks until his face is uniformly grave-wave white.

 

 

ANGLE – GABRIEL THE CAT

 

Coming in to sniff around the clutter at the foot of the vanity. Eric looks down towards him... and toward the lipstick he dropped.

 

 

CLOSEUP – ERIC'S HAND

 

As it glides down to pick up the lipstick. CONTACT, and –

 

 

FLASH: ERIC

 

Smashed on the street, T-Bird's car background, upside down in Eric's POV as he rolls over and blood courses from both corners of his mouth, a definite foreshadow of the "Crow" face.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

RESUMING ERIC AT VANITY – TIGHT

 

ERIC

She always red red was her color.

 

 

EXTREME CLOSE – THE MIRROR

 

We see only a reflected corner of Eric's mouth as he duplicates the blood trail in red lipstick, making one one half of a crow harlequin smile.

 

 

EXT. LOFT BUILDING – LATER – NIGHT

 

A MEDIUM SHOT as lightning strikes; a storm brews.

 

 

EXT. LOFT – LATER – NIGHT

 

CLOSEUP – ERIC'S BOOTS

 

Crossing the floor. Tin-Tin's knife slotted to the bucklework.

 

 

CLOSEUP – VANITY

 

Eric's hands discard a hairbrush there. He moves off.

 

 

CLOSEUP – GABRIEL

 

Looking up off screen, watching his master stalk around with purpose.

 

Thunder rumbles long off screen.

 

 

ANGLE – AT ERIC IN WINDOW FROM OUTSIDE

 

The storm boils. Eric framed in broken window.

 

 

CLOSER ANGLE – ERIC IN WINDOW

 

Eric all in black, Firm-wrapped. Tight-wired. The trenchcoat flutters, cloak-like. His shadowy face framed by the upturned collar, his hair punkish and spiky.

 

 

SIDE ANGLE – ERIC

 

As he moves forward in the light. The crow lights on his shoulder.

 

ERIC

All right, bad guys...

 

 

FRONT VIEW – ERIC

 

Full crow regalia. Face makeup streamlined. Eric's eyes flash.

 

ERIC

(in drawn out yell)

Here I commme!

 

PULL BACK swiftly, vertiginously, as Eric swan dives from the window, his voice a howl.

 

 

UP ANGLE FROM STREET – ERIC'S FALL

 

Coat, wing-like. MATCH his dive yell with offscreen crow SCREECH.

 

SLOW MOTION as Eric fills the frame and we –

 

DISSOLVE TO:

 

 

EXT. ALLEY – WHERE TIN-TIN GOT IT – NIGHT

 

Cop lights bounce, competing with the trash fires. Albrecht and several other UNIFORMS assess the double-death scene. A detective, TORRES tries to appear in charge.

 

TORRES

Couldn't have happened to a nicer couple.

 

 

ANGLE – ALBRECHT AND TORRES OVER DEAD TIN-TIN

 

Tin-Tin frozen in deathshock, all of his knives sticking out of him. Dead Ratso, background, where he fell.

 

ALBRECHT

Sure it coulda. Funboy's not here, neither is T-Bird – none of Top Dollar's number ones.

 

TORRES

You know, you sure got a hard-on for a guy that's guilty of zip on paper. Top Dollar runs Showtime; what's the matter, don't you like adult entertainment?

 

ALBRECHT

This sack of shit is called Tin-Tin.

 

TORRES

Don't any of your little pals have real, grown up names?

 

ALBRECHT

He was a runner for Top Dollar. Just muscle.

 

TORRES

Was.

 

ALBRECHT

(sigh)

This isn't Top Dollar's style anyway. This was somebody else. Somebody new.

 

Albrecht lights a fresh smoke. Torres waves the smoke away.

 

TORRES

And you're gonna tell me who.

 

ALBRECHT

Who ever made that.

 

Albrecht points. CAMERA FOLLOWS to wall behind Tin-Tin. A crow silhouette has been daubed in blood there, now dry.

 

TORRES

What in the hell... do you call that?

 

ALBRECHT

I call it blood, Detective. If you want, you can call it graffiti.

 

 

INT. GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP – NIGHT

 

CLOSEUP of Gideon's thick fingers shuffling grimy currency. Some scratchy 1920's TUNE plays throughout background, like a broadcast from another time and place.

 

 

TIGHTER ANGLE – GIDEON

 

Looking up at a metallic SOUND, off screen. Irritated.

 

GIDEON

Piss off, we're closed.

 

As the outside security gate rattles, Gideon draws his magnum and approaches the front door.

 

GIDEON

Fucking creatures of the night; they never goddamn learn.

 

Sudden surprise as he sees the silhouette of the gate SCREE back against the frosted glass of the front door.

 

GIDEON (CONT'D)

HEY!!

 

And he hustles to close up the distance between himself and the door, gun up. Before he can touch the door, the crowbar comes rocketing through the glass, pegging Gideon in the forehead and knocking him flat on his ass. He loses the pistol. Eric walks through the door, causing the fractured glass to disintegrate around him. He disclaims, thespian.

 

ERIC

"Suddenly I heard a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door."

(pause)

You heard me rapping, right?

 

 

LOW ANGLE – GIDEON ON THE FLOOR

 

Reacting to Eric's weird appearance and looking for his gun.

 

GIDEON

Oh, bullshit! You're trespassing asshole, you're breakin' and enterin' and you just bought me a fucking door!

 

During Gideon's rant, Eric brushes glass cubes from his shoulders, nonplussed. Now he flings Gideon across the room.

 

Gideon crashes into the counter cage. As Eric advances on him:

 

ERIC

I'm looking for something in an engagement ring. Gold.

 

As Eric comes up behind him, Gideon reaches through the open cage door and pulls a big combat knife from beneath the counter.

 

GIDEON

You're looking for a coroner,shit-for-brains!

 

And he tries to nail Eric with the knife.

 

 

NEW ANGLE – BEHIND GIDEON – AS GIDEON SWINGS

 

No Eric behind him. TILT to reveal Eric hanging off the cage above Gideon. Eric slams the cage door against Gideon's head. Drops down like a spider and collects the knife.

 

ERIC

I repeat: a gold engagement ring. It was pawned here, a year ago, by another gentleman whose name, I believe was... "T-Bird"?

 

 

IN TIGHT ON ERIC AND GIDEON

 

Eric twists Gideon's sail-like shirt and Gideon turns bright red.

 

ERIC (CONT'D)

Cute nickname, don't you think?

 

GIDEON

(gasping)

I ain't got no fuckin' ring.

 

ERIC

Wrong answer.

 

Eric nails Gideon's hand to the counter top. Gideon howls!

 

GIDEON

All's I got is in a box! Behind the counter!

 

Eric jumps through the cage door. Gideon's eyes bug as he sees his own pierced hand, immobilized.

 

 

ANGLE – ON ERIC BEHIND THE COUNTER

 

Scans the shelves. Rows of boxed ammo. Kerosene tins. A shotgun. Knives and assorted knuckle duster curios. And the ring box.

 

 

CLOSEUP – THE RING BOX IN ERIC'S HAND

 

Dozens of gold rings. Eric's fingers sift through them.

 

 

TIGHTER ON ERIC

 

He brings each ring to his face.

 

INTERCUT with Gideon's feeble struggles and invective, off screen.

 

ERIC

No... no... no... no...

 

He tosses each rejected ring over his shoulder. Until:

 

 

CLOSEUP – THE RING IN ERIC'S HAND

 

Obliterated by a stab of brilliant white light –

 

 

FLASH: SHELLY'S FACE

 

A perfect vision...

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

RESUMING ERIC

 

He closes his fist tightly around the ring. A moment of decision. Then he draws the shotgun from beneath the counter. Uses the butt to knock the knife free of Gideon's hand. It goes spinning across the countertop. Eric shucks the shotgun and rams it into Gideon's nose as the big man slumps to the floor.

 

ERIC

Tin-Tin confided in me, before he ran out of breath. You have one chance to live.

 

GIDEON

No fucking way. He'll kill me.

 

ERIC

Who would waste time killing you... besides me?

 

Gideon sweats, pants, contemplates the hole in his hand.

 

GIDEON

(cowed)

Top Dollar.

 

ERIC

Another jolly nickname?

 

GIDEON

You want those assholes, you want Top Dollar.

 

ERIC

T-Bird?

 

GIDEON

Like the car. He hangs out with Skank. that little ass-hair, and they hang at the Pit – hell, Funboy lives there. Ask Top Dollar.

 

ERIC

A whole club of pirates, with pirate names...

 

Eric seems to go berserk, SMASHING and PUNCTURING cans of flammables and powder while Gideon flinches, nursing his holed hand. Blows just miss Gideon's head. Soon he's cowering.

 

 

LOW ANGLE – ERIC

 

Looking down at Gideon in revulsion.

 

ERIC

You feed off the living.

 

SMASH! As another tin ceases to exist next to Gideon. Then Eric is gone, past him without further word, ignoring him entirely. As he exits, shotgun shouldered, he pauses to admire a white Fender Strat hanging among the pawnables. He reaches for it.

 

 

ON GIDEON

 

As he summons some last minute budget bravery.

 

GIDEON

You walk outta here Top Dollar will erase your ass! Top Dollar owns the fucking street here and you can't dick with me, you son-of-a-bitch!

 

 

RESUME ERIC – FRAMED IN DOORWAY

 

The guitar now bowslung across his back, the shotgun leveled at Gideon's position.

 

ERIC

One chance to live. Take it.

 

 

MOVE IN TIGHT ON GIDEON

 

As he realizes what Eric means. Hauls ass and bangs through the rear door with a bleat of terror.

 

 

ANGLE – RESUMING ERIC IN DOOR

 

As he cuts loose with the shotgun.

 

 

EXT. GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP – NIGHT

 

As seen from across the street. Eric silhouetted, unmoving as the whole store front blows hellaciously out around him, raining glass and debris. Stirring his hair. Eric is the black eye of the fireball.

 

 

LOW ANGLE – FRONT OF PAWN SHOP – EMPHASIZE ERIC

 

Lit by flames and residual explosions. He hurls the shotgun into the inferno. Casually brushes flaming/smoking detritus from his own clothes.

 

ALBRECHT (O.S.)

Don't move! I said don't move.

 

 

NEW ANGLE – ERIC

 

As he turns slowly, to see Albrecht, out of reach, gun drawn. Eric's attitude lightens; Albrecht is not the threat here.

 

ERIC

I thought the police always said "freeze".

 

Albrecht divides his attention, jumpy, between the odd sight of Eric (guitar on his back), and the raging instant inferno of Gideon's.

 

ALBRECHT

I'm the police and I say don't move, Snow White. You're under arrest; I don't care what else is wrong with you! You move and you're dead.

 

Eric has begun to pace towards Albrecht. Palms up. A gesture of submission. Albrecht's battle calm begins to waiver.

 

ERIC

And I say I'm dead... and I move.

 

ALBRECHT

No further. I'm serious.

 

Eric bows, bringing his forehead in line with the gun's muzzle.

 

ERIC

Then shoot, if you will.

 

 

TIGHT ANGLE – ALBRECHT

 

He gives it up. Can't shoot. This is too weird for him.

 

ALBRECHT

Are you nuts, walking into a gun?

 

 

NEW ANGLE – LESS THREATENING – ERIC AND ALBRECHT

 

ERIC

You must listen carefully: the Fire Department will be here soon. There is an injured man in the alley who needs assistance.

(meaningfully)

As Shelly Webster once needed your assistance, and as you are shortly going to need my assistance.

 

Albrecht gestures casually, almost comically, with his pointed gun. Background, the crow lands on a fire escape to monitor them.

 

ALBRECHT

You wanna run that back for me one time?

 

SIRENS near, off screen Eric listens to them, to the night.

 

ERIC

Listen: Top Dollar. He "owns the street here." He will "erase my ass."

 

ALBRECHT

You don't say.

 

ERIC

I know Top Dollar has turned your streets into his hell.

 

ALBRECHT

Fucking A, my friend.

 

ERIC

The others are called Skank, T-Bird. Street names. Funboy.

(beat)

Watch me, office Albrecht.

 

Eric lifts a chunk of glass from the sidewalk. Slow and easy. Albrecht doesn't completely trust him. Up comes the gun.

 

ALBRECHT

Watch it...

 

Eric slices open his palm. Blood flows. To his fingertips.

 

 

NEW ANGLE – ERIC AND ALBRECHT

 

As Eric quickly daubs a crow silhouette in blood on the wall... then exhibits the gashed hand to Albrecht.

 

 

CLOSEUP – ERIC'S HAND

 

As the blood retreats and the wound seals itself up.

 

 

TIGHT ON ALBRECHT

 

And the silhouette. Mouth hangs.

 

ALBRECHT

You're the one who did Tin-Tin...

 

PULL BACK FAST to reveal Eric is gone from the frame. Albrecht does a quick 180. No Eric. Flashbars from incoming units begin to bounce red and blue off his face.

 

ALBRECHT (CONT'D)

Great. Good night. Guy shows up looking like a mime from hell.

(beat)

Least he didn't do that "walking against the wind" shit; I hate that.

 

 

EXT. SHOWTIME – NIGHT – TO ESTABLISH

 

A night-owl pornucopia. T-Bird enters beneath a garish theater marquee. The 2-bill: "RUMP ROMP with BUTTBUSTERS II"

 

 

INT. SHOWTIME LOBBY – NIGHT

 

T-Bird approaches the snack bar. Wet, breathy mating NOISES from the auditorium throughout, offscreen Looking supremely bored, the counterman, DICKEY BIRD, thumbs a porn tabloid. So what.

 

DICKEY BIRD

T-Bird. Thrill me.

 

T-BIRD

Business.

 

T-bird heads left through s steal door that Dickie buzzes open for him.

 

 

INT. SHOWTIME AUDITORIUM (BACKSTAGE) – NIGHT

 

T-Bird walks past dust-covered boxy black speakers as we glimpse Lance and Angelique making history in reverse, on the back of the movie screen: Oratoria as good as porn films can make it.

 

PORN QUEEN (O.S.)

I don't know how to describe how I feel, Lance – so restless –

 

PORN KING (O.S.)

You're my Moon Queen, Angelique.

 

PORN QUEEN (O.S.)

Oooh – I want you're rocket right now in my Sea of Tranquility – Lance –

 

 

ANGLE – CATWALK STAIRS

 

As T-Bird approaches, the movie sounds dwindle offscreen He ascends the skinny metal stairway two steps at a time.

 

 

ANGLE – STEEL FACED DOOR AT TOP OF STAIRS

 

As T-Bird nears it, a viewplate SNAPS open to asses him. By the time he reaches the top, the door unbolts to admit him.

 

 

INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR – NIGHT

 

As T-Bird enters. The room is organized around a long meeting table and flavored with a taste of everything illegal: drug paraphernalia, weapons.

 

Across the table are a couple of Sentries like the one that admits T-Bird to the room. TRACK PAST them to a lank-haired silhouette as he turns away from a windowshade, backlit by Showtime's exterior neon.

 

This is TOP DOLLAR. Who looks like a Johnny Winter acid casualty but is deadly cold, definitely the man in charge.

 

TOP DOLLAR

Wild fucking night. I hear our pal Tin-Tin got himself very dead.

 

T-BIRD

And Gideon's just burned all the down to the foundation.

 

Top's eyebrows go up. Oh really?

 

T-BIRD (CONT'D)

I didn't have nothin to do with that.

 

TOP DOLLAR

Bet that pisses you off, right?

 

T-BIRD

Top, what the fuck is going on tonight?

 

TOP DOLLAR

Stay normal, T. Cops'll be all hotwired and aggressive. No combat moves until I check this out.

 

 

EXT. STREET – NIGHT – ("CROWVISION") HIGH ANGLE

 

Taking in the street, the Pit, and a little girl seated on an abandoned car.

 

 

ANGLE – STREET LEVEL – ON ELLY.

 

Seated on the looted wheelless car, playing with a small doll.

 

 

CLOSER ANGLE – ON ELLY

 

She doesn't notice someone is watching her yet.

 

 

TIGHT ON DOLL, THEN ELLY

 

She looks up off screen at Eric, who is still out of the frame.

 

ELLY

What are you supposed to be? A clown?

 

 

CLOSEUP – ERIC

 

He smiles for what seems to be the first time. Warm, even past his crow makeup.

 

ERIC

Sometimes.

 

He glances back and logs the location of the Pit for later, not in a big hurry just now. Turns back to Elly.

 

 

WIDE ANGLE – ERIC AND ELLY

 

ELLY

You look like a rock star without a job.

 

ERIC

I dabble. May I?

 

He indicates the car hood, a "seat" next to Elly from which he may observe the Pit.

 

ELLY

If you're not some kinda child molester.

 

Eric looks behind himself. Who, me? Genuinely amused. He shakes his head no and sits down next to Elly.

 

 

INT. CLUB TRASH – NIGHT

 

The music POUNDS and smoke is everywhere, like incense.

 

INTERCUTS of the clientele, retro, robotic, clove cigarettes and rubber clothing; fetish casual wear.

 

 

ANGLE – TOP DOLLAR

 

Right in the center of the noise, looking downscale and dirty in this milieu.

 

 

ANGLE – ANOTHER CUSTOMER

 

Passing Top, appraising him, finding him as boring as life itself. Undertaker chic, she stares at Top.

 

TOP DOLLAR

I thought Halloween was tomorrow night.

 

An Oriental bodyguard passes him in foreground, motioning to follow.

 

 

INT. LAO'S NIGHTCLUB OFFICE – NIGHT

 

Lao watches club activity on his flybank of TVs. When Top Dollar shows up at the office door two Sentries try to bar his passage. He shoves through.

 

TOP DOLLAR

Get outta my way, you mooks.

 

Lao's demeanor indicates that they should not kill Top.

 

LAO

An unexpected pleasure.

 

TOP DOLLAR

Bad news. Alot of action on the streets tonight, and nobody bothered to clear it with me. Tin-Tin got himself whacked.

 

LAO

Who got himself what?

 

TOP DOLLAR

One of mine. And it wasn't a standard hit.

 

LAO

I had heard something like this.

(beat)

Describe it for me. The "hit".

 

TOP DOLLAR

I was wondering if you could tell me anything... about a wildcat operative.

 

LAO

I know of no one.

(beat)

But even if there is, I am sure it is nothing outside your capacity to deal with?

 

TOP DOLLAR

Anybody violates my turf – our turf – I'll rip out there heart and show it to 'em.

 

LAO

To be sure. Now tell how your friend died.

 

 

INT. PRECINCT HOUSE – NIGHT

 

ANNABELLA, a comfortable large, spider-in-the-web deskworker, sits typing at a terminal. Miked headphone in one ear, police scanner chatter off screen. She blows and pops a pink bubble of gum.

 

ALBRECHT (O.S.)

Annie?

 

 

ANGLE – ANNABELLA AND ALBRECHT

 

Albrecht enters frame from across her countertop.

 

ANNABELLA

Whatever it is, the answer's no, Eddie. I'm too busy tonight.

 

ALBRECHT

Annie, I need a file.

 

There is a desperate edge to Albrecht's voice.

 

ANNABELLA

Speak up.

(beat; her guard up)

Clear it with the Captain if you need a file.

 

ALBRECHT

This is special, darlin'. Please?

 

Annabella eyes Albrecht doubtfully. Fatalistic sigh.

 

ANNABELLA

Just don't tell me you "owe me one." What file?

 

ALBRECHT

Double homicide. A year ago. Las Halloween.

 

 

EXT. STREET NEAR THE PIT – ERIC AND ELLY – NIGHT

 

Still hanging by the car, a bit more familiar with each other now. A low-slung mirror-windowed LIMOUSINE hisses past them and curbs across the street from the Pit.

 

ELLY

My mom works over there. I'm waiting for her, but she's probably with him, right now.

 

ERIC

Who?

 

ELLY

Mister Funboy.

 

ERIC

Mister Funboy lives there?

 

 

TWO SHOT – ELLY AND ERIC – (PIT BACKGROUND)

 

ELLY

He has a room, upstairs. I don't like him very much.

 

Elly is not happy about this. In the background we see Grange get out of the car, heading to the Pit, and notice in passing a guy with the white face talking to the little girl down on the block.

 

ELLY (CONT'D)

Can you play that thing or do you just carry it around everywhere?

 

Elly indicates the guitar strapped to Eric' back.

 

ERIC

I can pick out a tune now and again.

 

ELLY

Can you play "Teddy Bears' Picnic?"

(re: doll)

It used to be her favorite.

 

ERIC

Does she have a name?

 

ELLY

No name. You sure ask a lot of questions.

 

Elly HANDS the doll to Eric and he experiences a wholly unexpected flash.

 

 

FLASH: ELLY AND SHELLY

 

Sitting as Shelly's vanity, goofing with makeup, test-driving lipstick, the doll visible on the vanity.

 

FLASH ENDS

 

 

RESUME ERIC – AS THE DOLL DROPS FROM HIS HAND

 

Pain is trying to fight it's way out of Eric in surges.

 

ELLY (O.S.)

(smart alec)

Hel-lo? Earth to anybody...?

 

Eric snaps out of it. Elly retrieves the doll.

 

ELLY (CONT'D)

Do you feel okay.

 

ERIC

No.

 

ELLY

You gotta go now, I bet.

 

ERIC

I have to go.

 

Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits.

 

 

INT. PIT – NIGHT – WITH GRANGE

 

As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed. To the bouncer:

 

GRANGE

Top Dollar?

 

BOUNCE

Never heard of him.

 

GRANGE

Funboy?

 

BOUNCER

Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin' Darla. Pay for your own beer and they'll prob'ly be down before you can drink it.

 

 

INT. PRECINCT HOUSE – OFFICE – NIGHT

 

CLOSEUP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands. Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife.

 

 

ANGLE – ALBRECHT AT DESK

 

Flipping through the file. Smoking.

 

 

ANGLE – THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND

 

Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft building. The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face.

 

As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at Club Trash.

 

A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle of all this research, startling Albrecht.

 

 

ANGLE – ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM

 

ANNABELLA

Don't thank me. Your ass is already in enough trouble for this shit.

 

ALBRECHT

I knew that.

 

Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the light.

 

 

CLOSEUP DOCUMENT

 

Torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin.

 

It reads: "We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court Apartments..."

 

ALBRECHT

Another nice white girl with a cause. Like a big KICK ME sign.

 

Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face.

 

ALBRECHT (CONT'D)

Shelly Webster. And her nice white boyfriend, Eric Draven.

 

With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make-up, like the blood.

 

ANNABELLA

Your last little wild goose chase got you busted back to the Beat Patrol, just like in a bad detective story, Eddie. Are we doing the wildgoose thing again?

 

UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo.

 

ALBRECHT

Could be.

 

ANNABELLA

You gonna wind up working at a school crosswalk. that doughnut's chocolate you, know.

 

PUSH IN on the doctored photo. It's Eric. It's the Crow.

 

PUSH IN on Albrecht.

 

ALBRECHT

Well, hello there...chocolate,

 

ANNABELLA

Don't thank me.

 

ALBRECHT

Thanks, babe.

 

 

INT. THE PIT (REAR) – ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE – NIGHT

 

Climbing. The crow perched on his shoulder. Not in a hurry.

 

ERIC

It's a Raymond Chandler evening and the pavements are all wet, And I'm lurking in the shadows, for it hasn't happened...

 

 

TIGHT CLOSEUP – ERIC

 

Impish. Clown killer.

 

ERIC (CONT'D)

... yet.

 

 

INT. THE PIT – NIGHT

 

Grange at a table. Smoking and waiting. No beer. His back protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a good overview of the room.

 

 

INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM – NIGHT

 

CLOSEUP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard.

 

 

EXT. THE PIT (REAR) – FIRE ESCAPE – RESUMING ERIC – NIGHT

 

Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing.

 

 

INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM – NIGHT

 

A hypodermic needle rises into frame. A nicotined fingernail flicks bubbles in the syringe. FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up. Both are naked in a shabby bed. Bare lightbulb above.

 

DARLA

Ooh, baby – gimme all of it.

 

 

CLOSEUP – THE NEEDLE

 

As the plunger depresses.

 

 

ANGLE – ON THE WINDOW

 

As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill, scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends. Funboy pulls a giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire.

 

DARLA

It's a big fucking bird...

 

She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing. Funboy giggles. Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the sheets at his side.

 

FUNBOY

It's a squab. Here bird, Here, birdie...

 

 

NEW ANGLE – DARLA AND FUNBOY

 

Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the bird's position, the guitar bowslung.

 

ERIC

Here Funboy.

 

Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle. The needle flies and lands at Eric's feet. Empty. Funboy struggles to maintain against his high.

 

FUNBOY

Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do that, man. I nearly had a fucking heart attack.

 

DARLA

Fun – look at that guy...

 

FUNBOY

It's just the dope, don't worry

 

DARLA

Fun, he's not going away; he's scaring the piss outta me!

 

FUNBOY

Not me.

 

Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers. Suddenly he seems totally focused.

 

FUNBOY (CONT'D)

Time for you to take your bird and leave, freako.

 

Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet punctures. This gives Funboy pause.

 

ERIC

Take your shot funboy. You got me, dead bang.

 

Funboy tilts the gun off target. Grins as Eric flat handedly past his chest, indicating where to shoot.

 

FUNBOY

You are seriously fucked up, man. Just look at yourself.

 

In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart.

 

FUNBOY (CONT'D)

BANG! He shoots, he scores!

 

Then his expression drags a little bit.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC

 

Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest.

 

ERIC

Bull's eye. Good shot.

 

 

ANGLE – DARLA

 

Who starts scrambling to get out. Grabbing clothes on the floor around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands.

 

ERIC

Stay.

 

Eric twists her arm.

 

 

CLOSEUP – DARLA'S FOREARM

 

Where we may clearly see the needle tracks.

 

 

UP ANGLE – ERIC

 

ERIC

Morphine is bad for you.

 

He holds her arm captive. Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's, Blood trail. The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor. Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious. She slumps.

 

 

ANGLE – ON FUNBOY – GAWPING

 

FUNBOY

How the hell did you do that?

 

ERIC

Magic.

 

Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar.

 

FUNBOY

Either die or do a solo.

 

Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing. He can't seem to make it tie off fast enough. He turns his attention back to Funboy. But his strength is mysteriously ebbing.

 

ERIC

Neither.

 

FUNBOY

Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself.

 

Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the gun. Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric relentlessly.

 

FUNBOY

I hate trespassers!

(whack!)

I hate prowlers!

(whack!)

I hate peeping toms!

(whack!)

And right now I hate you!

 

 

ANGLE – WALL NEAR BATHROOM

 

As Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing. Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it.

 

FUNBOY

Ahh, the hell with it, I still got five shots left.

 

In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the crunching of bones. Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back across the bed.

 

FUNBOY

Owwwaaaa – fuck me! Look what you did to my sheets, you lame piece'a shit! AAAAaa! Goddd!

 

ERIC

Does it hurt?

 

FUNBOY

Does it hurt?! You dead-ass, clown-faced fuck, of course it fucking hurts! What the shit are you gonna do about this?!

 

Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampoule of morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already inserted.

 

ERIC

I have some pain killer right here.

 

And he fills the syringe all the way.

 

 

ANGLE ON FUNBOY

 

As he begins to see the light. He can't get away. Growing terror.

 

FUNBOY

No, wait, no WAIT, that's too much, man, that's like overkill, nobody can take that much, you're wasting it !

 

ERIC

Your pain ends now.

 

And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse.

 

Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in the corner, shock-traumatized. On off screen COUGH, and Eric opens his eyes.

 

The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat.

 

SKULL COWBOY

Howdy

(beat)

You look a mess. Like an ole cooter dog.

 

 

TIGHT SHOT – ERIC'S FACE

 

Streaked with – mostly – his own blood.

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE – THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC

 

SKULL COWBOY

Getting a little ambitious and extracurricular, aren't we?

 

ERIC

Go away.

 

SKULL COWBOY

You need to learn to mind your own business or you'll never get where you think you're going.

 

ERIC

Shut up.

 

SKULL COWBOY

Maybe I was wrong about you.

 

The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is a little shake of his skull-head.

 

Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her. She's really confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer.

 

ERIC

Your daughter is out there, on the street, waiting for you.

 

She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there.

 

ERIC

Go. Now.

 

Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without a glance back at Funboy.

 

Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door, stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with Funboy. The Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy.

 

 

INT. THE PIT – NIGHT

 

As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door behind Grange and FLEES the Pit.

 

BOUNCER

Hey, g'night, Darla.

(to Grange)

That there is Darla.

 

GRANGE

Funboy?

 

Bartender indicates UP with his thumb. Grange moves to the fire stairs door.

 

 

INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM – NIGHT

 

Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes when he sees:

 

 

GRANGE POV – FUNBOY

 

Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart.

 

 

RESUME GRANGE

 

Eyes darting, drawn to –

 

 

GRANGE'S POV – THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY

 

A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's blood. A thin outline, drippy.

 

 

RESUME GRANGE

 

Whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on –

 

 

ANGLE – GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW

 

The crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill, guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him. He winks, holds a finger to his lips – sshh –and jumps out into the night.

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE – GRANGE

 

He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless expression on his face as we –

 

CUT TO:

 

 

INT. PRECINCT FOYER – NIGHT

 

Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to the late-working Annabella en route.

 

 

EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE – NIGHT

 

Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him, cat silent, matching pace.

 

NB: Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair.

 

ERIC

Freeze.

 

Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun.

 

ALBRECHT

Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man!

 

Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down. Eric waits.

 

ALBRECHT (CONT'D)

I told you cops don't say "freeze".

 

He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers.

 

ALBRECHT (CONT'D)

You, my friend, are dead. I saw your body. You got buried.

 

ERIC

I saw it, too.

 

Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric stands there. We realize he is hesitant about touching the file.

 

ERIC (CONT'D)

Walk with me.

 

As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk.

 

 

ANOTHER ANGLE – ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET

 

ALBRECHT

You died, man. I can't believe it but here you are. Last year, you and your girlfriend –

 

ERIC

I need you to tell me what you remember. What happened to us?

 

ALBRECHT

You went out the window. She was beaten and raped. She died in the hospital.

 

They stop. Eric didn't know this. Fixes Albrecht with a look.

 

ALBRECHT (CONT'D)

Hey, you asked, man.

(beat)

She held on for thirty hours in intensive care. Hemorrhage, trauma. He body just finally gave it up.

(beat; regret)

I saw it and couldn't do jack for her.

 

Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines. Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes.

 

 

TIGHT ON ERIC – ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL

 

We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the Flash.

 

 

NEW ANGLE – ERIC AND ALBRECHT

 

And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own head. His crow face slacked in realized horror.

 

ALBRECHT

You okay, man? I mean, what just happened.

 

ERIC

The venom of bad memories. You were there; you saw her. I saw you seeing her.

 

Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette.

 

ALBRECHT

You gotta understand – I was hoping she'd talk, give me a lead, a clue, something to work with. But she only said one thing to me before she died.

 

Eric lowers his head, penitent.

 

ERIC

My name.

 

ALBRECHT

(fizzles)

I'm sorry as hell, man.

 

ERIC

Thirty hours. A day of life, plus change...

 

 

TIGHT TWO-SHOT – ALBRECHT AND ERIC

 

Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single contemplative puff from it.

 

ERIC

Halloween is coming, soon. You will have Top Dollar if you watch for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night.

 

ALBRECHT

I should be trying to stop you.

 

Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette.

 

ERIC

Thank you. For giving a damn.

 

ALBRECHT

My pleasure.

 

ERIC

Don't smoke these.

 

As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and simultaneously ducks out of frame.

 

 

ANGLE – ALBRECHT TURNS

 

To see a blank building wall. Fire escape. Darkness. No Eric. He does a full 360 degree turn. Eric is gone again.

 

ALBRECHT

Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that.

 

 

MOVING ANGLE – FROM BUS ROOF

 

Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves away from Albrecht's position.

 

 

INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE – NIGHT

 

Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to him.

 

GRANGE

The son-of-a-bitch winked at me. Then he jumped. Three stories.

 

Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's tale.

 

LAO

Did you see an animal of any kind? Did you see a bird?

 

GRANGE

(puzzled)

No. I saw a guitar.

(beat; irritated)

This isn't some rock-n-roller you forgot to pay, is it?

(beat)

There was a drawing on the wall that looked like a bird. In blood.

 

Lao's expression is one of sublime content.

 

LAO

Good.

 

GRANGE

It could've been a chicken...

 

 

EXT. LIQUOR STORE – NIGHT – ("CROWVISION")

 

A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the store as two figures – T-Bird and Skank – approach on the store side.

 

SKANK

I wish to hell I had torched Gideon's, that fat fuck.

 

T-BIRD

I wish to hell I knew who it was that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo doll last night.

 

 

ANGLE – CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK – STREET LEVEL

 

They stop walking. Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross themselves. Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment. T-Bird indicates the liquor store.

 

T-BIRD

We need some smokes and some road beers.

 

SKANK

Got it.

 

Skank hustles toward the store. T-Bird crosses to the car.

 

 

ANGLE – T-BIRD – THROUGH CAR WINDOWS

 

WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it. Behind him, two 12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank, one wearing a long duster.

 

 

INT. LIQUOR STORE – NIGHT

 

As the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine rack. East Indian CLERK. Two boys fight video game wars in the corner. Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends.

 

 

EXT. STREET / INT. CAR – LOWER ANGLE – NIGHT

 

As T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees:

 

 

INSERT – REARVIEW MIRROR

 

Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light.

 

 

ANGLE – T-BIRD

 

He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear.

 

T-BIRD

What the fuck are you supposed to be, man?!

 

INSERTS: Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him.

 

ERIC

I'm your passenger. You drive. And stop talking.

 

 

TIGHT ANGLE – T-BIRD'S HANDS

 

On ignition key and gearshift, making ready. As ordered.

 

 

INT. LIQUOR STORE – ON SKANK AT COUNTER – NIGHT

 

He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and glasspacks grumbling. Skank moves, BRISTLING.

 

SKANK

What's all this happy horseshit?

 

And the car peels out maniacally! Skank tries to pursue – but the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store.

 

AXEL

Alright, alright, alright – everybody be cool and stay exactly where you are.

 

Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a gigantic Auto Mag.

 

CHOPPER

Whooooa, cowboy! Cool gun.

 

Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.

 

 

INT. T-BIRD – TRAVELING FAST – NIGHT

 

Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed.

 

ERIC (O.S.)

Faster, T-Bird. Faster. You're a hell of a wheelman; you know you can drive faster.

 

 

ANGLE – ERIC AND T-BIRD

 

Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him. Eyes locked on T-Bird. T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway.

 

T-BIRD

You call it, blood – you got the gun. You just tell me where you want to go.

 

Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver as he says this. He's nervous and needs to hold the road.

 

ERIC

That's good. We're going someplace you've never been before.

 

 

EXT. STREET – HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD – NIGHT

 

As the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking wake of litter. PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way.

 

 

INT. POLICE CRUISER – NIGHT

 

Parked in an alley, facing the street. Two cops work on large styro cups of steaming coffee. MJ (driver) and SPEEG.

 

MJ

Smells like rain.

 

SPEEG

Smells like a septic tank. You got that cream stuff?

 

MJ

In the bag.

 

Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag.

 

SPEEG

I hate this cream stuff. They can't even call it cream, legally.

 

They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety.

 

MJ

What in the crap?

 

MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff.

 

SPEEG

Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit!

 

 

EXT. STREET – ON ALLEY – NIGHT

 

As the cruiser roars out to give chase.

 

 

INT. T-BIRD – TRAVELLING FAST – NIGHT

 

Eric lends the chase car a backward look.

 

ERIC

You caught one. Drive faster.

 

T-BIRD

Man, you gonna get us killed dead and I don't even know what you want!

 

Eric cocks T-Bird's pistol and levels it at his face.

 

ERIC

I want you to stop talking. And drive. Drive faster.

 

Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips for the gun. Sunglasses. A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to T-Bird). Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's tape. What Eric needs.

 

 

ANGLE – T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR

 

As he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit,

 

ERIC (CONT'D)

You're very popular. Thought you could handle this thing.

 

T-Bird macho calcifies. He's going to win.

 

T-BIRD

To hell with you.

 

ERIC

(wry)

Naturally.

 

 

INSERT – SPEEDOMETER

 

Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark.

 

 

EXT. CITY STREETS – VARIOUS ANGLES – THE CHASE – NIGHT

 

A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the city.

 

 

EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET – NIGHT

 

All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame. The lead cop tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning. It clips a light pole. Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit.

 

 

INT. POLICE CRUISER – ON SPEEG AND MJ – TRAVELING – NIGHT

 

As MJ stands on the brakes. Collision imminent. They howl.

 

 

EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET – NIGHT

 

As MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car.

 

 

EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD – NIGHT

 

The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt.

 

 

INT. T-BIRD – ON ERIC AND T-BIRD – NIGHT

 

T-bird respirating like a jackhammer. Eric holds stoic.

 

T-BIRD

So what – you gonna rape me now?

 

ERIC

Time for your reward, T. Payback with interest earned.

 

Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll.

 

 

EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD – NIGHT

 

A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk.

 

 

ERIC'S POV – THE TRUNK

 

Loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia.

 

 

INT. T-BIRD – FAVOR T-BIRD – NIGHT

 

SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the pedal. Mummified into his seat. Hands taped to the wheel. Throat taped hard against the headrest.

 

The car is now in gear, idling.

 

 

ANGLE – ON ERIC FROM WINDOW

 

He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap. T-Bird squirms. No go. Eric reaches in with a bungie cord.

 

ERIC

A little restrictive? Good.

(chilling)

You held her down and raped her. You were the first. She burned while you were inside of her.

(re: bomb)

What's the lag on this? About twenty seconds, would you say?

 

T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized. Can't even budge the wheel.

 

ERIC (CONT'D)

I've comrades in hell, T-bird. Give them my best.

 

Eric activates the timer. Yanks up hard on the bungie cord.

 

 

INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL

 

The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the pedal.

 

 

ANGLE – ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE

 

Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move. The car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a football field. Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the clip.

 

INTERCUTS: As the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs bullets from the clip, one by one.

 

 

INT. T-BIRD – TRAVELING FAST – NIGHT

 

T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH!

 

 

CLOSEUP – THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND

 

Thumbing out the final bullet.

 

 

EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD – RESUMING ERIC – NIGHT

 

ERIC

All gone.

 

 

ANGLE – T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE

 

Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water. It hits. Sinks. Weird fl