Escape from L.A. Page #3

SNAKE PLISSKEN. A steel collar is clamped around his neck. Eight

lengths of chain stretch to eight armed guards who escort Plissken

down the ramp. Plissken is bruised, badly beaten and tortured, his

face a mess, but he doesn't seem to care. A line of battle-ready

cops stand with their guns aimed right at Plissken's head as he is

marched into camp. An army of camcorders move ahead of the Police

Anchor as he scampers along in front of PLISSKEN, interviewing

him.

POLICE ANCHOR:

Hello, Plissken. Welcome to L.A.

Celebrating cops cheer as Plissken is lead to...

A SIGN ABOVE A CONCRETE BUNKER - DEPORTATION CENTER

The bunker has one large opening, into which hundreds of deportees

march. Guards in towers monitor the condemned as they trudge out

of fenced-in containment areas, down walled corridors to the

bunker entrance.

The deportees are minorities, the poor, prostitutes, pimps,

thieves, adulterers, atheists - the Morally Guilty, outcasts of

society. Single mothers carry babies. Teenage runaways huddle

together. There are abortion doctors, drug dealers, pornographers,

the prisoners of a massive cultural war.

As Plissken is marched toward the entrance, a loudspeaker blares

out:

POLICE VOICE (V.O.)

You are now entering the Deportation

Center. You have been found guilty of

moral crimes against the United States of

America.

A great cheer goes up from the cops as the Police Anchor conducts

his interview...

POLICE ANCHOR:

S.D. Bob Plissken. Special Forces, Black

Light, Texas Thunder. Two Purple Hearts.

Youngest man ever decorated by the

President.

Plissken's face remains so impassive as to be almost blank.

INT. SODIUM VAPOR CORRIDOR - DEPORTATION CENTER - NIGHT

A glowing, vaporous-orange corridor. More cops gather to watch

Plissken as he is escorted into the bowels of the Deportation

Center.

POLICE ANCHOR:

You've been convicted of 27 moral crimes,

Plissken. The murder of an Internal

Revenue agent. The kidnapping of a bank

president. Gun fighting for profit. The

list goes on and on...

INT. CONCRETE HALLWAY - DEPORTATION CENTER - NIGHT

Deeper into the Deportation Center. Camera tracks along the

deportees, some bleeding, some wrapped in rags. Plissken, the

Police Anchor, camcorders and the armed escort move through the

dark, low concrete passageway.

POLICE ANCHOR:

You used to respect the law. Served your

country like no man before you. Role model

to a generation.

The Police Anchor leans in as close as he dares to Plissken's

face.

POLICE ANCHOR:

What happened to you, war hero? You were

the best we had.

STEEL-WALLED HALLWAY - DEPORTATION CENTER - NIGHT

Steel walls. Deeper into the Deportation Center. The deportees

here are in worse shape. Some appear to be dead. Plissken and his

entourage continue along, as the speaker echoes a pre-recorded

message...

POLICE VOICE (V.O.)

You are sentenced to permanent expulsion

beyond the borders of the U.S. You now

have the option to repent of your sins and

be electrocuted on the premises. If you

elect this option, notify the Cleric

Sergeant in your Processing Area.

Plissken and his entourage pass deportees kneeling and praying in

front of cloaked cleric cops, government holy men. Beyond, through

opened doorways, see Death Row deportees being strapped into

futuristic electric chairs.

POLICE ANCHOR:

The whole world's watching. Every good and

decent person who works and hard and

follows the rules. What would say to them?

Plissken's expression is blank.

POLICE ANCHOR:

What would you say to all of us who

believed in you, who looked up to you, who

thought you stood for right over wrong,

good over evil? Be my guest. What do you

have to say, Plissken?

PLISSKEN:

(beat)

Call me Snake.

The guards move Plissken through a doorway, and the huge steel

doors slam shut on the Police Anchor and the camcorders.

INT. CORRIDOR - PROCESSING AREA - NIGHT

Malloy, Brazen, and a 3rd man, tall, charismatic, grim, move

urgently along a corridor.

BRAZEN:

ComStat did a psychosearch on him. Used a

database of 5 million sociopathic

personalities. He hit the bottom of the

curve.

MALLOY:

Perfect for the mission. Nobody else can

pull it off - not an army, not a man.

BRAZEN:

Zero emotional developments. Total lack of

compassion. A highly developed

psychopathic instinct to survive.

3RD MAN

Let's get this over with.

INT. CONCRETE CELL - NIGHT

The cell door slams shut. Plissken turns around. Writ and leg

irons. He looks around.

In the concrete cell he sees a simple table with an overhead light

above it. A watch lies on the table. Plissken shuffles over, picks

up the watch, examines it.

The cell door opens. Malloy, Brazen, and the 3rd Man enter the

room unarmed. The door closes.

Malloy and Brazen move forward, to the edge of the light. The 3rd

Man stays back in the shadows by the door.

MALLOY:

How you doin' Plissken?

(no reply)

You like the watch?

PLISSKEN:

You a**holes didn't bring me here to give

me this for 20 years of dedicated service.

What'ya want?

Malloy looks back to the 3rd Man in the shadows...

3RD MAN

Get to it.

Malloy raises a control unit, pushes the button. The lights go

down and a computer-enhanced image appears on the wall...

INT. PROTOTYPE DEFENSE LAB - SURVEILLANCE CAMERA

From the point of view of a surveillance camera. The lab is huge.

Banks of processors, disk drives, test bays, prototype assembly

areas. High tech. A group of government officials is being given a

tour. Utopia, 17, the President's daughter is among them. Pretty,

virginal, she wears a "True Love Waits" button on her flowered

dress.

MALLOY:

At 1030 hours Wednesday, a group of

government officials began a tour of the

Livermore Defense Lab. The President's

daughter, Utopia, was among them.

Plissken continues to watch the image on the wall...

MALLOY:

An hour later, she boarded Air Force 3 to

Washington.

The 3rd Man reacts as the image in front of Plissken changes...

INT. MAIN CABIN OF 747 - CAMCORDER

From the point of view of a camcorder. Utopia stands inside the

main cabin of a plush, government 747. In one hand she holds a

black anodized box the size of a transistor radio with a button on

top. In the other, a machine gun.

UTOPIA:

(to the camcorder)

To the American people - it is time to

rise up and demand the surrender of the

President and his corrupt theocracy of

lies and terror.

MALLOY:

At 1140 hours, she hijacked the plane. We

scanned the videotape on VR. Check it out.

Inside the surveillance room the President stares grimly as Malloy

presses a button. Suddenly the image in front of Plissken spreads

out all around him. He is in a virtual reality re-creation.

INT. MAIN CABIN OF 747 - VIRTUAL REALITY

Plissken stands manacled in the main cabin. A group of secret

service men and congressmen watch as a flight attendance operates

a camcorder. He's videotaping Utopia as she rants into the camera.

She's pent up with such anxiety she's like a panther in a cage.

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