Blade II Page #16

Blade drops into the sewer line. The area is claustrophobic,

damp. There are torn pieces of insulation hanging from the

ceiling, saturated and dripping with blood.

Blade crouch-walks further in. We hear WIND. He shines his

FLASHLIGHT. A portion of the brick wall looks like it's been

clawed open.

NYSSA:

(calling down)

Everything okay?

Blade retreats back to the drain-pipe, pulling himself back

up. We HOLD for a beat, then drift up to the blood-saturated

strips of insulation. SOMEONE is crouched in the shadows

there, clinging to the ceiling upside down.

It's NOMAK, red-eyes shining in the darkness.

CUT TO:

INT. DAMASKINO'S LAIR - BATHHOUSE - DAY

We are in a previously unseen portion of Damaskino's vast

bedroom. An elegantly tiled pool area has been partitioned

off by a series of latticed screens. In the counterpoint to

this are a series of muted monitors tuned to the pulse of the

world -- CNN, MSNBC, C-SPAN, etc.

Damaskinos sits in a robe, finishing a meal, his eyes

flicking over the monitors -- tracking current events, market

fluctuations. We get the sense that the man is a true

polymath. That he owes his five thousand-plus years of

existence to resourcefulness rather than luck.

Stevens enters, waiting to be acknowledged.

DAMASKINOS:

(vampire dialect; subtitled)

Yes?

STEVENS:

(vampire dialect; subtitled)

They've made contact with the Reapers.

DAMASKINOS:

(vampire dialect; subtitled)

Any casualties?

STEVENS:

(vampire dialect; subtitled)

Two so far.

Unconcerned, Damaskinos slices into a piece of raw meat.

DAMASKINOS:

(reverting to English)

An inevitability, I suppose. Nyssa was

not among them, I trust.

STEVENS:

No. This is a dangerous game, you're

playing, Damaskinos.

DAMASKINOS:

Any game worthy of being played is. One

must be patient. In this way, I have

outlived my enemies. All of them.

Damaskinos steps beyond the screens now, into the pool area --

and although we can't see the water from this angle, we can

see patterns of ruby light flickering off the tiled walls.

Stevens follows, uncomfortable.

STEVENS:

Blade's too volatile. You're not going

to be able to keep manipulating him --

Damaskinos steps into the steaming liquid, which we now see

is BLOOD. His robe spreads out, floating on the surface.

DAMASKINOS:

You worry too much, Stevens. I have

assurance from our friend inside that

events are unfolding as scripted.

STEVENS:

As scripted? You've already lost two of

your own. How many more are you willing

to sacrifice?

Damaskinos sinks until he's waist-deep in the crimson fluid.

DAMASKINOS:

As many as it takes.

(pointing)

Do you see that jar over there?

Stevens looks to a shelf where a gold and crystal Coptic jar

rests. A HUMAN HEART floats within.

DAMASKINOS (CONT'D)

It contains my human heart --

(touching a pale scar on his

chest)

Something I relinquished a long time

ago. Only a fool would appeal to it

now.

CUT TO:

INT. SCUD'S WORKSHOP - CELL - NIGHT

The dying Reaper has now been chained inside the cell. It

WHEEZES and MOANS, clearly in agony. Blade and Nyssa stand

watch. Blade grips the Reaper beneath its jaw, turning its

face towards us.

BLADE:

Recognize him?

NYSSA:

(nodding)

From the surveillance footage in the

bloodbank. He was one of the guard's

Nomak attacked.

BLADE:

Which means he turned about seventy-two

hours ago.

NYSSA:

Right. So why is he dying? He doesn't

appear to have any broken bones, no

entry wounds of any kind -- what's

killing him?

BLADE:

Time.

Blade nicks the Reaper's carotid artery with a knife. CLEAR

SERUM oozes out, no red blood cells at all.

BLADE (CONT'D)

No hemoglobin left.

Their metabolisms are too fast. They

burn out. That's why they're having to

feed so often. Their systems are self

destructing.

NYSSA:

If that's true, what about Nomak? He's

been alive longer than the others.

BLADE:

Nomak's different. He's the carrier.

(shaking his head)

There's something driving him beyond the

Thirst. Something we're missing.

As they watch, the Reaper shakes through its final death

throes, then grows still, the nictomembranes over its eyes

slowly sliding down.

MOMENTS LATER - A SERIES OF ISOLATED CLOSE-UPS

A pair of GLOVED HANDS spreads apart the Reaper's eyelids.

In response, the protective nictomembrane slides mechanically

down over the pupil.

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