Blade Page #12

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WHISTLER:

This used to be mine, you know. It's

been passed down through the

centuries, from one hunter to the

next --

Whistler extends the sword, sighting down the length of it. He takes

a few practice parries -- it's obvious he used to be quite skilled in

the art of swordsmanship.

KAREN:

Why do you hunt them?

WHISTLER:

Habit, mostly, just like this.

Whistler gestures with his cigarette. He finally stubs it out, his

wistful reverie vanishing like so much smoke.

WHISTLER:

I had a family once -- a wife, three

daughters. Then a drifter named Deacon

Frost came calling one evening --

KAREN:

He killed them?

WHISTLER:

Eventually. He toyed with them first.

He made me choose, do you understand?

Which order they would die in --

Karen stares at Whistler, horrified.

KAREN:

How did you escape?

WHISTLER:

I didn't. He was cruel enough to let

me live.

(slapping his brace)

Even gave me a souvenir to remember

him by.

Karen nods -- it's all falling into place for her now.

KAREN:

And now you're using Blade to exact

your revenge?

WHISTLER:

(pointedly)

Frost's bodycount keeps rising, and

I'm not getting any younger, am I?

Just then, we hear a SCREAM come from Blade's room, sounding more

like the cry of a beast than a man. Karen takes a step towards

Blade's room --

WHISTLER:

I wouldn't go in there if I were you.

It's best to leave him alone when he's

like this.

KAREN:

I'll take my chances.

INT. BLADE'S ROOM - NIGHT

Karen enters. It's dark, just a trace of moonlight.

KAREN:

Blade?

No answer. Then Karen SEES him -- crouched in the corner of the room

like some kind of nocturnal animal.

KAREN:

It's dark in here.

BLADE:

You get used to the darkness.

Karen takes a step towards him.

KAREN:

Whistler told me about your mother.

Blade clutches the silver locket in his hand. It swings back and

forth, like a pendulum.

BLADE:

I can't close my eyes without hearing

her scream.

KAREN:

Those aren't real memories. No one has

that kind of recall.

BLADE:

I do. I remember from day one. People

staring at me, sensing I was

different. Watching the fear grow in

their eyes, knowing in their hearts I

wasn't human.

KAREN:

If you're not human, then why do you

bleed like us?

I've seen vampire blood, you don't

have it running through your veins.

Blade looks at Karen, his lambent eyes glowing in the moonlight.

BLADE:

Just get out of here.

KAREN:

Blade --

Blade turns, his eyes glowing with preternatural fury.

BLADE:

I said, GET OUT!!!

Karen backs away, startled by Blade's vehemence. She exits, leaving

him alone with his demons. He holds up one of his empty serum

ampoules, crushing it in his fist.

FROST'S VOICE

Rise and shine, little wing.

EXT. THE BURNING GROUNDS - JUST BEFORE DAWN

FADE IN on Dragonetti, his face covered with a black condemned man's

hood --

Frost stands before him, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He's dressed

from head to toe in a black motorcycle suit -- boots, gloves, a

visored helmet tucked under one arm. Mercury and Quinn are standing

nearby, similarly attired.

We're on a stretch of rocky coastline, tucked away in a secluded

cove. Dragonetti has been stripped bare, chained like Prometheus to

an ancient standing stone.

DRAGONETTI:

(straining)

What is this? Where am I?!

Frost steps forward, pulling Dragonetti's hood off. Dragonetti stares

at his surroundings, horrified.

FROST:

When was the last time you stopped to

appreciate a sunrise, Dragonetti?

Three, four hundred years?

Frost checks his watch, then looks to the ocean. On the horizon, a

sliver of gold appears.

FROST:

How do you like that? Right on time.

DRAGONETTI:

(snarling)

The other elders will never let you

get away with this!

Just then, the TWELVE VAMPIRE ELDERS emerge behind Frost, forming a

circle around Dragonetti. All wear business suits, gloves, along with

high-tech "sun masks" to protect their faces from the light's lethal

rays.

They stare at Dragonetti like a silent jury. His face darkens, anger

rising -- but there's a desperation in his eyes now too. He speaks in

the secret tongue:

DRAGONETTI:

(subtitled)

Don't you see, you fools?! He'll

betray you too! He's planning on

invoking LaMagra himself!

The vampires just smile and shake their heads.

FROST:

The wheel turns, old fang. Guess you

just got a little too long in the

tooth.

Dragonetti's cries are cut short as Frost forces the aging vampire's

mouth open, ripping out his fangs with his bare hands. Dragonetti

GURGLES and SHRIEKS, sounding like a dying animal.

Frost turns to face the Twelve now, his eyes bright with victory. He

pulls on his motorcycle helmet, as do Mercury and Quinn.

Behind them, Dragonetti struggles furiously against his chains to no

avail as the first faint rays of daylight fall upon him, channeled

inward by the natural formation of the cove --

Dragonetti HOWLS, his skin beginning sizzle and smoke. Then he

catches fire like paper beneath a magnifying glass. He thrashes about

as his flesh starts to run from his body.

THE VAMPIRE ELDERS

watch, impassive, protected by their masks --

-- when suddenly, TWELVE FIGURES rise up behind them, clad in bike

helmets and black leather, just like Frost. The intruders grip each

of the Elders in a strangle hold, ripping their masks off.

FROST:

Dragonetti was right. You were fools

to trust me.

Frost flips down the visor of his helmet even as --

THE RED SUN:

rises in all its fiery glory.

One by one, the vampire Elder's heads catch fire, skullflesh sizzling

away -- burning down the line of them in successively building

intensity until all twelve EXPLODE in a conflagration of BLINDING

WHITE LIGHT.

Frost and his compatriots are blown off their feet by the sheer

intensity of the occult blast -- a blast which sends the skeletal

bodies of the Elders SLAMMING into the rock wall.

When it's over, Frost picks himself back up. We SEE that the only

thing left of Dragonetti and the others are --

THIRTEEN SHADOW SILHOUETTES

permanently etched onto the rock's surface, just like the bombing

victims of Hiroshima.

INT. WHISTLER'S WORKSHOP - DAY

Karen stands at a lab table with Whistler, preparing a number of

blood sample vials. They are surrounded by host of new medical

equipment -- from centrifuges to genetic sequencers and beyond.

Blade emerges from his room, looks to Karen. As if by silent

agreement, last night's words go unacknowledged. He straps on his

bandoleer of stakes, secures his scabbard.

WHISTLER:

Going somewhere?

BLADE:

China Town. I need more serum.

(re:
new equipment)

What's all this?

KAREN:

I made a trip to the hospital last

night, borrowed some equipment.

BLADE:

(sarcastic)

For your miracle cure?

WHISTLER:

She's been making real progress,

Blade.

(to Karen)

Show him --

Karen looks to Blade, who shrugs. She opens a refrigerator, removing

a syringe filled with blue fluid.

KAREN:

This is sodium citrate. It's an

anti-coagulant. We use it to treat

blood-clots sometimes. Vampire blood

is thinner than humans, though. Watch

what happens when I introduce some

into a sample --

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