Hellboy Page #8

Manning and Broom walk through the mess. A crew is cleaning

up. The dead guards are carried out.

MANNING:

Every time the media get a look at

him, they come to me. I'm running

out of lies, Trevor.

BROOM:

I thought you liked being on TV.

MANNING:

I do.

(beat)

How many escapes? This year alone:

five!

BROOM:

Tom -- he's our guest, not a prisoner.

MANNING:

Your "guest" happens to be six foot

five, bright red, and is government

funded.

BROOM:

He's just going through a phase --

Manning moistens and lights a fine cigar, using a kitchen

match.

MANNING:

A "phase"? What do you think this

is, "The Brady Bunch?" These... freaks --

ABE SAPIEN listens while pacing the exhibition hall, palm

open.

MANNING:

(lowers his voice,

tense)

These freaks, Trevor, they give me

the creeps. And I'm not the only

one. You're up for review. You and

your petting zoo.

BROOM:

I know where to find him. I'll get

him back.

Manning watches as Abe finds a sharp dagger embedded in the

floor.

MANNING:

Hey, fishstick -- don't touch anything --

Abe silences him.

ABE:

I need to touch it to "see"...

MANNING:

See what??

ABE:

The past, the future, whatever this

object holds.

MANNING:

(eyes Broom)

Is he serious??

ABE:

Don't worry about fingerprints. I

never had any.

Abe holds the dagger in his hand, turns to Broom.

ABE:

They were over here, Professor.

MANNING:

Oooh!! Who was here? Nixon? Houdini?

You mind sharing your mystic insights?

Broom examines the dagger: a RAGNAROK symbol crowns the hilt.

The dragon and swastika.

BROOM:

Show me, Abe... show me.

He solemnly extends his hand. As soon as Abe takes it, the

room...

MORPHS TO:

INT. "MAGIK EXHIBIT" HALL - FLASHBACK

Hours earlier:
the place is intact. Both ABE and BROOM witness

spectrally as --

A GUARD CHECKS AN ALARM MONITORING UNIT. HEARING A ticking

sound, he shines his light into a dark corner: no one's there.

But after the guard moves on, a spidery form emerges from

the pool of shadows on the floor.

It's KROENEN, encased in shiny BLACK LATEX from head to toe.

On his chest, a close-fitting harness comprised of softly

ticking gears.

He approaches a glass case which holds an ancient WOODEN

STATUE of an Eastern Orthodox SAINT.

Then, on the glass, a reflection: ILSA.

ILSA:

Move.

She uses her hammer to destroy the glass case.

The ALARM shrieks. Warning lights come on.

Kroenen pulls out a double-ended BLADE. It spins, like a

giant bone saw, slicing across the statue.

No apparent damage until: CRACKKKKK!!! a diagonal line appears

and the top half falls.

KROENEN reaches for a small crank embedded in his chest and

winds himself up.

Ilsa reaches into a hollow portion in the wooden statue and

removes a large reliquary jar containing Golden sand.

Six guards hurry in. They point their flashlights and guns

at Kroenen.

GUARD 1

You! Don't move! Hands up!

Kroenen starts shaking, as if in a seizure and readies two

TWIN BLADES.

bullet tears into Kroenen's arm, spewing forth an explosion

of dust. He turns. The guards shoot again. Kroenen maneuvers

the steel, deflecting the bullets which --

-- ricochet wildly -- and finally hit three of the guards.

They fall silently to the floor.

Kroenen dispatches two more in a flurry of knives.

The last guard raises his gun.

GUARD 6

Don't --

Something is clearly stopping him. His hand breaks, twisted

by an unseen force!!

The flesh on his neck pushes upwards, held by an invisible

force. He starts floating in mid-air.

The blinking lights of arriving police cars tint the windows

red and amber. They outline a figure formerly submerged in

shadows. GRIGORY. He gestures with both hands, as if holding

an imaginary doll.

His arm muscles twitch under his skin, shifting, changing,

gaining strength.

With a quick gesture Grigory twists the lower and upper parts

of the guard's body in opposite directions.

With a wet CRUNCH, the guard's shadow on the wall goes limp.

Grigory looks at Ilsa.

GRIGORY:

Ready the welcome, my love --

Ilsa opens the reliquary jar and pours a circle of sand onto

the floor.

GRIGORY:

Salt. Gathered from the tears of a

thousand martyrs. Restraining the

essence of Sammael, the hell hound,

the seed of destruction.

Grigory slices the air with his open hand, creating fleeting

glyphs... and a small BLACK flame dances on his open palm.

He deposits it in mid-air, at the center of the circle.

Then, the sand begins to move, like liquid mercury. Lines

fuse into a pile. It melts and bubbles, growing and foaming.

Bones are formed, tendons and ligaments join together,

GROWING, GROWING, INTO SAMMAEL.

It roars!!!

CUT TO:

OMIT:

INT. MACHEN LIBRARY - NIGHT

Abe snaps out of it. Broom is pale. He steps away, wincing,

enduring a bolt of pain in his side. Abe holds him. Motions

for the others to stay back.

He extends his open palm and "feels" the air near the old

man's back.

ABE:

Professor..? You -- are very sick --

BROOM:

I don't want Hellboy to know --

Broom turns around, gently pushes Abe's hand away.

BROOM:

Sixty years ago Abe, they tried to

destroy the world. And they are back --

in my lifetime, they are back. To

finish the job.

CUT TO:

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - NIGHT

A small nighttime Halloween celebration. Lanterns hanging

from the trees, couples drinking and listening to Pop music

on picnic tables.

On a bench, A YOUNG GUY pulls out a cold SIX PACK of beer

and passionately kisses his GIRLFRIEND. As he shuts his eyes,

a bright, red tail neatly snatches the six-pack.

Behind the bench, HELLBOY smiles.

EXT. BELLAMIE MENTAL HOSPITAL - NIGHT

Dry leaves fly up in a gust of wind. A small army of EMERGENCY

VEHICLES roars down the deserted streets, right past a...

...brick 1940's HOSPITAL, behind a high wall topped with

barbed wire. The mesh-covered windows are decorated with

paper skeletons and jack-o'-lanterns. A topiary garden

surrounds the building.

Watching from atop the wall is HELLBOY. One sleeve of his

overcoat is soaked in blood. He keeps an eye on the SECOND

FLOOR windows. Hanging from his tail: THE SIX PACK OF BEER.

INT. BELLAMIE MENTAL CORRIDOR - NIGHT

DOCTOR MARSH, a female psychiatrist, moves down a line

patients, distributing pills.

Behind her, a lithe young woman in a patient's gown carries

the medicine tray. This is LIZ SHERMAN, age 26, her pale

skin contrasting with her raven-black hair and piercing dark

eyes. A scar mars her forehead. Three thick rubber bands

circle her wrist.

Near a window, a Down's Syndrome PATIENT senses something.

DOWN'S PATIENT

(pointing)

There's a big red guy down there!

DOCTOR MARSH:

(readying more pills)

That's fine, darling, Santa's not

here for another month.

DOWN'S PATIENT

Not Santa. Big and red. With gold

eyes. And he has beer!

Hearing this, Liz stops. She closes her eyes, tugs at one of

the rubber bands on her wrist and lets it snap against her

skin. She winces and peers out the window. The garden below

seems empty.

EXT. BELLAMIE MENTAL HOSPITAL - GARDEN AREA - NIGHT

Liz steps out a side door into the hospital garden. Hanging

from her neck:
an old POLAROID CAMERA. She follows a trail

of blood to a large, thorny bush. As she circles it...

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