American Sniper Page #6

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CLOSE ON CHRIS:

He winces, sickened, and struggling to swallow the little

piece of him that just died.

GOAT (OC)

-F*** that was gnarly.

CHRIS SCOPE POV:

MOTHER flees down sidewalk, robes aflutter. CROSS-HAIRS

lead her. BAM. It pocks wall behind her. A round ejects.

CROSS-HAIRS swing forward, leads her more. BAM. She runs

into scope, reaches center, meets bullet. A red mist.

GOAT (OC)

Sh*t yeah. Evil b*tch!

COMMANDING OFFICER (OS)

Nice shooting, Tex. Helluva call.

(03.18.14) 31.

COMPANY COMMANDER (OS)

Roger that. Good lookin’ out Navy.

GOAT:

You hear that?

He nudges Chris, trying to get a celebration out of him-

CHRIS:

Get the f*** off me.

This is the reality of war. Not like he anticipated.

CLOSE ON CHRIS:

Breath racing. Bleeding sweat. Trying to process his

disgust. Trying to inject some purpose, mumbling:

Protect the Marines. Protect the Marines. Protect...

Clouds crawl over Chris like ghosts, swirling feverishly

as HOURS SLIDE BY. His face takes on a preternatural

blankness as he begins to slip into the shadows of self.

Suddenly-- clouds halt, pupils flare, chest inflates.

49 EXT. ELIZABETH STREET - SAME 49

Sun flares as MARC LEE advances alongside 1ST PLATOON

MARINES (40 men) when-- A SHOT SOUNDS. A BODY TUMBLES out

of the sky and lands in their midst with a meaty thud.

1ST MARINE #1

-F***, man! What the hell-

The Marines duck for cover then look to the sky-

1ST MARINE #2

-Where’d it come from?

MARC LEE:

That’s your overwatch, Einstein. You can

thank him later. Keep moving.

Marines slowly return to standing, glancing up at

surrounding structures trying to spot their protector.

50 INT. WINDOW - LATE AFTERNOON 50

Chris lays atop a baby crib. A scrim hangs in front of

him. Sunlight burns through it, casting a thousand

pinpricks of light across his face. SUN MARCHES ACROSS

the sky and pixels twist over his cataleptic shape.

(03.18.14) 32.

Suddenly-- sun halts, chest inflates, eyes flare.

51 INT. STREET - SAME 51

A CAR SPEEDS toward 1ST PLATOON. MARINES open fire with

the feeble POP-POP of M4s. The car still coming--

A SNIPER SHOT BOOMS across the sky like thunder. The

windshield spiders, blood splattered, and the car stops.

As Marines search rooftops for him-- THE CAR EXPLODES.

52 INT. LOOTED ROOM, ELIZABETH STREET - EVENING 52

CHRIS plants a loop-hole charge at the base of the wall

and steps around the corner to trigger the charge.

CUT BETWEEN:

INT. HALLWAY, DOWN ELIZABETH STREET - SAME

Black robes draw across mosaic tiles as “PHANTOM SNIPER”

slips down a hallway. A Dragunov Sniper Rifle over

shoulder, he hears the loop-hole charge detonate nearby

and turns, entering a tiled washroom to his left.

This is “MUSTAFA”.

LOOTED ROOM / CHRIS

CHRIS lays his kit in front of the blast-hole: gun, flag,

Bible. Packs a dip, elbows meet cement, eye meets glass-

WASHROOM / MUSTAFA

MUSTAFA lays in front of a mortar-hole. In a leather

satchel:
ammo, oil, cell phones. His eye meets glass--

LOOTED ROOM:

CHRIS finds his stillness. The instant he does-- SHADOWS

CREEP over him and night swallows the room.

53 EXT. ELIZABETH STREET - NIGHT 53

A palm tree burns like a candle over Fallujah. Below it,

head-lamps dance chaotic as VIPER TEAM MARINES exit a

house spray-painting “X” on the gate.

(03.18.14) 33.

MARINE VIPER #1

--hot as Bigfoot’s ballsack over here.

(knocks on next gate)

Derka, derka, derka....

MARINE VIPERS laugh, bowling into a courtyard.

CHRIS SCOPE POV (N/V)

Glowing green hue. CROSS-HAIRS track the Marines entry,

sweep the street and push toward the rooftop, when-

A SHOT SOUNDS. A MARINE FALLS in a 2nd story window.

MARINE VIPER #4 (OS)

(over radio)

--F***! Man down! It came through the

window--

CROSS-HAIRS whip across rooftops, on a swivel.

CHRIS (OC)

That was sniper fire. Shooter is on our

side of Elizabeth street. Over.

MARINE VIPER CO (OS)

Negative. East side of Elizabeth is

locked-down. Over.

Viper Marines drag the soldier out. In the phosphorous

green glow, we watch his body tremor as he dies.

SFX:
CHRIS’ ELEVATED HEARTBEAT pounds over scene as-

WASHROOM:

MUSTAFA flees down the hall. A fluttering shadow in

darkness, except for the reflective swoosh on his Nikes.

LOOTED ROOM:

Chris lays on the gun, brow pinched with onus, silence

like a scream. This happened on my watch.

CHRIS SCOPE POV (N/V)

CROSS-HAIRS TRACK across the city-scape. TIME LAPSES and

the world (in scope) SPEEDS UP. Humvees and tanks streak

past, lights blur, trees blow in choppy havoc, then--

TIME SLOWS to a crawl as CROSS-HAIRS FIND A MALE hurrying

into a alley, pulling sh*t from a pack. We zero-in and--

a flame flickers. The male is smoking opium.

(03.18.14) 34.

CROSS-HAIRS drift off him and TIME SPEEDS UP, dogs eat a

rotting body by the roadside, vicious in fast motion. TWO

WOMEN wobble down the road with buckets, wind whips

roadside grass into a tizzy and WE HALT ON-

CROSS-HAIRS ON A PERFECT CIRCLE in the grass, a rifle-

barrel? Stay on it. In stillness it finds context; a

RUSTY PIPE. TIME SPEEDS FORWARD, TWO BOYS zip by on a

Vespa, OLD MEN frantically bow to mecca on rooftops.

Clouds boil across dawn sky. His eye never leaves glass.

MARC LEE:

Smells like piss in here.

(no response)

You covered our ass out there, man.

Appreciate it. Those were ballsy shots.

CHRIS KYLE:

And they were clean. Right?

MARC LEE:

Hell yeah, they were.

CHRIS:

(finally looks up)

That sniper walked right up our ass.

MARC LEE:

I chewed out our security detail. It

won’t happen again.

CHRIS:

My shooter statements are on the dresser.

Marc Lee picks up a stack of YELLOW PAPERS on the desk.

MARC LEE:

Six?

CHRIS:

Should be eight. Two got dragged off.

(off Marc)

Something wrong?

MARC LEE:

No... but you got more kills than the

rest of the snipers combined.

Chris rubs red “shooter’s strawberries” from his elbows.

CHRIS:

They still got one of our guys.

(03.18.14) 35.

MARC LEE:

You can’t shoot what you can’t see.

Marc’s eyes land on piss-stained cement where Chris lay;

this f***er didn’t take his eye off the glass all night.

54 EXT. CAMP FALLUJAH -FORWARD OPERATING BASE(FOB)- EVENING 54

Behind miles of wire, a twenty-acre BASE CAMP. Aluminum

trailers, shithouses and tent farms. A Humvee pulls past--

55 INT. CHARLIE COMPANY BARRACKS, CAMP FALLUJAH - NIGHT 55

Chris steps in, letting the air-conditioning blow down on

him. Cots, lockers and cruise-boxes line the room.

Biggles reads a PUNISHER graphic novel, doesn’t look up.

BIGGLES:

Heard you got your dick wet.

CHRIS:

Where is everybody?

BIGGLES:

We’re just picking our d*cks here,

training those f***ing haji soldiers.

CHRIS:

Why ain’t you out there?

BIGGLES:

I got the shits. Marc Lee said you were

on f***in fire out there.

CHRIS:

(shedding gear)

You still read comic books?

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