Face\Off Page #10

Walton turns his steely gaze on DOBBS.

WALTON:

That's two strikes, Dobbs.

One more -- you know

where you're going.

The veiled threat dampens Dobbs's rage.

WALTON (cont'd)

Back to your "suites,"

-- or no dinner.

POLLUX waits as ARCHER drops into the line of cons.

ARCHER:

Hey, bro ...

POLLUX:

You're not my brother.

(eyes dissecting Archer)

The brother I knew would

never have been caught by

that dumb f*** Archer.

(then ... grinning)

At least tell me the bomb

is still going off.

ARCHER:

They haven't found it

yet -- Listen, Pollux ...

WALTON:

Shut up!

Walton jabs Archer with the shock-stick -- Archer drops as

Pollux moves on -- finally chancing a concerned look back at

his "brother" -- being abused by the Guards.

INT. ARCHER'S CELL -- NIGHT

Archer sits in the tiny, steel framed cell. Isolated,

lonely, he realizes how easy it would be to go insane here.

He stares out the skylight -- at the evening sky above.

EXT. HOAG INSTITUTE -- NIGHT

An insanely starry night. Van Gogh's night. The night he

cut off his ear, anyway.

INT. INTENSIVE CARE UNIT -- NIGHT

CASTOR'S body lies inert. His life-support machines

flatlining. Until the EEG SPIKES. Once -- twice -- three

times. Brain wave activity increases -- and stabilizes.

The fingers on CASTOR'S hand begin to move. Then his fist

clenches -- hard. CASTOR'S head is swathed in gauze. But

his EYES pop open.

Reflexively, CASTOR wrenches from the bed -- tearing out the

tubes and wires that tether him to life-support. He goes

down -- in agony -- groaning.

He struggles to his feet -- staggering through the lab --

haphazardly upending equipment as he goes to the window.

OUTSIDE:
He sees the lights of San Francisco across the

Bay. Much closer -- is UC Berkeley's Campanile tower.

Castor's hand grips a wall-mounted phone. He dials.

CASTOR:

Lars ... it's me ... well,

believe it! Somewhere

in f***ing Berkeley ...

(shuffles some papers)

The "Hoag Institute." Just

get the f*** over here. And

bring me a double cappuccino,

'cause Jesus, do I have the

mother of all hangovers ...

What? ... Yeah, low-fat.

He hangs up -- then catches the reflection of his bandaged

FACE in the window. He quickly unwraps the gauze.

THE DISCARDED BANDAGES fall at his feet ... we don't see

what Castor sees -- but we hear him SCREAM.

INT. HOAG'S PRIVATE OFFICE -- NIGHT

HOAG removes his scrubs, then washes up -- the work-day over.

His wife BRIDGET enters with dinner.

Taking a bite, he HEARS something. Listening, he calms down

until -- the door BLOWS OPEN. Castor's bodyguard LARS

storms in -- the weapon trained on the terrified couple.

INT. CORRIDOR -- NIGHT

Lars manhandles Hoag and his wife through the lab doors.

INT. LAB -- NIGHT

At the COMPUTER STATION -- LUNT is at a retrieval terminal,

scrolling through endless pages of data ... absorbing it all

-- including the video log of Archer's surgery.

HOAG:

Who are you? What

do you want?

Lars shoves Hoag into the towering figure of ...

A MAN WITHOUT A FACE

Through shadows, we GLIMPSE at raw muscle, cartilage and

bone. The man takes a sip of cappuccino ... then grimaces.

CASTOR:

I want my face.

INT. "POPULATION" -- PRISON -- DAY

Exercise hour. ARCHER tosses up an air-ball to the jeers of

the other inmates. He heads toward POLLUX who lies on the

infield astroturf, staring upward.

ARCHER:

Pollux ...

POLLUX:

Shut up.

POLLUX seems totally focused on the sky above -- a BIRD

swoops over the skylight and disappears.

POLLUX (cont'd)

There it goes again --

a bearded bellbird!

ARCHER:

So?

POLLUX:

So? The procnias averano is

a South American bird. The

flight here was only three

hours! And yesterday a

European swallow flew by!

Where the f*** are we?

ARCHER shrugs. POLLUX lights a cigarette and passes it.

Afraid of blowing his cover, Archer takes a drag -- gags.

POLLUX (cont'd)

What's gotten into you?

ARCHER:

What do you mean?

POLLUX:

You shoot hoops like a

chick, you smoke like a

wuss, and -- I don't know

-- you're different.

ARCHER takes a second drag and holds it -- then exhales

right in POLLUX'S face.

ARCHER:

I was in a coma, Pollux.

I still feel like sh*t.

POLLUX:

Let me have a look.

He sticks his finger under ARCHER'S eye and pulls down like

a vet examining a sick dog. ARCHER pushes him off.

ARCHER:

Do you know what it is

to be in a coma? It

fucks up everything --

including your memory!

I can't even tell you why

Dobbs jumped me yesterday!

POLLUX:

You porked his wife the

day he was arrested. How

could you forget that?

ARCHER:

I don't know. Everything's

jumbled -- so you're going

to have to help me fill in

a few blanks.

POLLUX:

A few blanks? Like what?

Rate this script:5.0 / 2 votes