Blade II Page #3

Blade kills the engine on his own bike and dismounts. Rush

is pathetically trying to drag his broken body to safety.

Blade approaches, placing his boot heel on the back of Rush's

neck, forcing his face against the asphalt. He unholsters

his MACH, pointing it at the vampire's bleeding head.

Blade's opening line:

BLADE:

Tell me where he his now and I'll

consider you a loose end.

CUT TO:

EXT. MOO-COW CREAMERY - MILK FACTORY - NIGHT

CLOSE ON a peeling wall mural -- smiling 30s cartoon cow

winking at us, licking her chops. The logo reads: "TASTY".

Blade's matte-black Charger RUMBLES into view and parks in

front of the abandoned milk factory. Blade steps out,

heaving an equipment sack onto his shoulder.

INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

THREE LACONIC VAMPIRE TOUGHS are playing poker at a card

table, dealing out novelty nudie cards. We hear a NOISE.

One of the vampires approaches a reinforced door. He slides

open a viewing slot and peers through. Nobody outside. The

vampire turns back to his poker buddies, shrugging --

VAMPIRE:

Nobody's th--

Before the vampire can even finish his sentence, Blade's

SWORD punches straight through the door into his chest. He

gasps and turns to ash as the sword disengages back out

through the door and --

CRASH! The door explodes open, sending clouds of burning

vampire embers every which way. In walks Blade, grinning

wickedly, MACH ready --

As the other two vampires rise - POW! A silver hollow-point

hits the first one in the neck. POW! Another hollow-point

takes out the second. The vampires drop, turning to ash.

Blade holsters his MACH, striding through vampire ash piles.

The place is eerily quiet here, in stark contrast to the

mayhem of the last few minutes. Just the steady, low-pitched

HUM of machinery.

Blade starts forward. Up ahead, a FAINT GLOW is emitting

from behind an area that's been sectioned off with canvas

tarps. Blade sweeps one of the tarps aside --

THREE LARGE TANKS

are hidden inside. The first two are empty. A MAN is

suspended within the third, bobbing weightlessly in a sea of

red plasma. His long, gray hair floats about his face,

shrouding his weathered features. We're not sure if he's

sleeping or dead.

BLADE:

Old man, old man, what've they done to

you --

Whistler's ace drifts around into view. Blade shakes his

head in sadness. He looks about for a way to extract

Whistler, doesn't see any obvious means, then --

CRASH! Blade kicks through the glass. Blood and fluids

flood out around him as Whistler's limp body tumbles partly

down, but he's still suspended by the wires and medical

leads. Blade unsheathes his sword, severing the wires --

Whistler falls into his arms. Blade cradles him, then -- the

gunsmith's eyes abruptly snap open, flooding with rage.

Blade staggers back as the HOWLING horror that used to be his

mentor wraps his hands around Blade's throat, forcing him to

the ground. Whistler ROARS, revealing a set of jagged fangs.

WHISTLER:

Why didn't you finish me off?!?! I told

you --

Whistler SLAMS the back of Blade's head against the concrete

floor again and again, punctuating his words with each SLAM --

WHISTLER (CONT'D)

-- TO -- F***ING -- FINISH -- ME -- OFF!

Blade knees Whistler in the balls. Whistler lets go, cupping

his groin as Blade heaves him aside.

Blade strips off his gauntlets. Whistler springs at him

again. Blade sinks his fist deep in Whistler's stomach. As

Whistler doubles over, Blade twists Whistler's hands behind

his back, cuffing his wrists together with a pair of titanium

manacles.

Blade pulls a restraint hood from his equipment bag and

quickly slips it over Whistler's head, cinching it tight.

Another beat. Whistler doesn't stir. He's down for the

count. Blade pauses a moment, catching his breath as he

leans on Whistler's still form. He's exhausted.

BLADE:

Come on, Whistler.

He rises, heaving Whistler's body over his shoulder.

BLADE (CONT'D)

Let's go home.

EXT. THE CITY - NIGHT

Blade's battered Charger knifes through the snow-dusted urban

blight like a shadow. Boarded up businesses, tent cities,

doorways bombed with graffiti throwups -- wherever this

godforsaken Gomorrah is, it's definitely a notch down on the

misery scale from the city Blade used to call home.

Up ahead, the sprawl levels out, giving way to an ice-bound

harbor wreathed in fog.

INT. BLADE'S CHARGER - NIGHT

Blade drives on, inured to the sqaulor. He made peace with

the darkness a long time ago.

EXT. SHIPYARD - NIGHT

The Charger weaves its way through a maze of scrap metal and

rusty shipping containers, homing in on a sprawling warehouse

that's been cordoned off by cyclone fencing and razor wire.

Utlra-violent floodlights illuminate the area, while security

cameras keep a watchful eye.

INT. WAREHOUSE - INDUSTRIAL ELEVATOR - NIGHT

More UV lights flicker on. We're in a massive loading

elevator/platform which HUMS as it ascends, eventually

reaching its destination with a BOOMING CLANG. The doors at

the rear glide open. Blade guides the Charger out.

INT. SCUD'S WORKSHOP - NIGHT

Santa's workshop by way of Soldier of Fortune. Industrial

equipment is strewn everywhere. Mills, old furnaces, gutted

vehicles, an ad hoc surgical theater. We also notice the big

rig which Scud had been piloting. Because of various leaking

overhead pipes, the floor is slick with a sheen of water.

Blade kills his Charger, looking around as he climbs out.

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