Blade II Page #4
BLADE:
Scud!
Blade's voice ECHOES throughout the cavernous room.
SCUD (O.S.)
Lock up your daughters, people --
ANGLE ON SCUD:
A handlebar moustached, weed-sucking stoner. Thrift-store
chic, wearing a Jimmy Walker "Dyn-O-Mite!" T-shirt.
SCUD (CONT'D)
The Dark Knight returns.
Scud is lowering himself down from the ceiling on a rope and
pulley system where he'd been suspended in a safety harness,
doing some kind of electrical wiring job. He reaches the
floor and unclips himself. We notice he's wearing a surfer's
charm around his neck that's been strung with vampire fangs.
Scud pulls a half-smoked roach from behind his ear, using a
lighter in the shape of a woman's torso to fire up. The
flame jets from a hole in one of her tits. He takes a
Spicoli-sized hit and offers the roach to Blade.
SCUD (CONT'D)
Little toke of the smokage, B?
Blade slaps it from his hand.
BLADE:
Knock it off. We've got work to do.
Blade opens the trunk. Scud joins him.
WHISTLER:
is inside. Blade unfastens the hood, slipping it off.
Immediately, Whistler sits up, LUNGING at Blade!
SCUD:
F*** me!
Blade gets Whistler in a headlock, choking him as he drags
him out of the trunk. It's like trying to wrestle a rabid
pit bull. He looks to Scud, annoyed.
BLADE:
You going to stand there crapping your
pants or are you going to help me?!
Scud steps forward, tentative. Together, he and Blade drag
Whistler kicking and SCREAMING across the workshop, forcing
him into a small, cell-like room.
INT. SCUD'S WORKSHOP - CELL - NIGHT
WHAP! Blade throws Whistler onto the concrete floor, pinning
him as Scud quickly slips a series of chains around him which
have been secured to the wall. The opposite wall is covered
by a series of steel shutters. As Whistler continues to
thrash, Blade affixes a muzzle to the older man's mouth.
SCUD:
You got something in mind, Blade?
BLADE:
Ultra-rapid detox. They use it on
heroin addicts, make 'em go cold-turkey
in one night.
Blade pulls out a pneumatic syringe, plunging an ampoule of
amber-colored fluid into the bottle mount.
BLADE (CONT'D)
Gonna try and OD Whistler on a
retroviral cure.
SCUD:
I don't know about this, man --
Blade injects Whistler with the syringe. Whistler HOWLS in
pain, nearly throwing Blade and Scud off him.
BLADE:
(to Scud)
Get back!!!
Scud scurries away. Whistler's struggles have taken an even
more violent turn. Blade beats him back down.
Finally, Blade steps on Whistler's neck, pinning his head as
he draws a shotgun from a holster beneath his armpit. He
shoves it in Whistler's SNARLING FACE.
BLADE (CONT'D)
If there's anything of you left in
there, Whistler, listen up now. Come
morning, those shutters are going up.
Either you'll be cured, or you'll fry.
Blade raises his foot from Whistler's neck, quickly backing
out the door. Whistler THROWS himself at Blade, nearly
tearing the chains from the wall as --
INT. SCUD'S WORKSHOP - NIGHT
BOOM! Blade slams the cell door closed. The door is heavy
steel. Nevertheless, Whistler kicks against it, threatening
to tear it off its hinges. Blade throws a heavy cross-bar
over the door. Then he steps back, joining Scud.
WHUMP!WHUMP!WHUMP! Whistler hammers the door again and again
and again. But the crossbar holds. Blade glances at Scud,
who's looking winded and shaken by the ordeal.
BLADE:
It's going to be a long night.
Scud nods and exits. Blade drags a chair across the floor,
setting it in front of the door. He sits down, shotgun
resting across his knees, holding vigil. And off that grim,
stoic image we --
CUT TO:
EXT. CITY DUMP - DAY (20 YEARS AGO)
Daylight bleaches the image, almost whiting it out. A WINO
sifts through refuse, collecting bottles. Three MUTTS are
tethered to his side with rope. He reaches for a bottle,
cuts himself on a piece of glass. As he inspects his wound,
his dogs GROWL. The Wino looks up --
A BLACK KID (14) is standing atop a mountain of refuse --
wiry and intense, perched there like a predator. The Wino
glances at his wrist again, the blood, then back up at the
black kid. Unnerved, the Wino starts to back away, then
turns -- BUMPING right into the black kid, who has moved
beside him with uncanny speed. (NOTE: this all happens
within a single, continuous shot.)
The boy SLAMS the Wino against the trestle wall and SNARLS,
baring FANGS. And just as he's about to tear the man's
throat out --
A HAND reaches in from off-screen, pulling the boy back.
It's WHISTLER, twenty years younger and spryer, with a head
Whistler throws the boy into the light, forcing him onto the
ground. He shoves a .45 against the boy's face and is just
about to pull the trigger when he stops, NOTICING overhead
sun reflected in the boy's eyes. Whistler looks up and SEES
the sun at high noon, then glances back at the boy in
understanding. He smiles.
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"Blade II" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 22 Dec. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/blade_ii_652>.
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