Human Target Page #2

Chance grabs the rifle, cycles the chamber expertly, and aims

it at Hollis. But Hollis has just finished arming the vest.

CHANCE (CONT’D)

You don’t wanna go out like this, do you?

(CONTINUED)

Human Target - Steinberg Network Revisions 1/23/09 6.

CONTINUED:
(2)

A tense moment of stalemate. Then-

HOLLIS:

No... So I’m going outside. And when I

get close enough to Lydecker...

(re:
the detonator)

I’m going to finish what I started.

(starts towards the door...)

You can stand there and say whatever you

want... That I’m about to do a terrible

thing. That I can still get out of this.

But it won’t change anything. This is

going to happen.

On Chance, calm and cold. As Hollis nears the door-

CHANCE:

Hey... What’d I tell you?

(Hollis turns to face him)

No threats.

--and CHANCE SHOOTS HOLLIS, SQUARE IN THE CHEST.

CUT TO:

EXT. OFFICE BUILDING PARKING LOT - DAY

The Police Negotiator is arguing with his CHIEF, as-

BOOOM!!!!! THE THIRD FLOOR EXPLODES, shattering windows...

Smoke billows out, as glass and debris rain down on us...

FADE TO BLACK:

THE SOUND OF A DOOR CREAKING OPEN... And then, FOOTSTEPS...

CHYRON:
FOUR WEEKS LATER...

The footsteps continue as we-

FADE IN:

INT. DARK CORRIDOR - DAY

--to a shadowy, lamp-lit hallway. We follow SHOES as they

walk down the hall, finally stopping in front of an apartment

door. The door is unlocked (3 locks), and we enter into-

CUT TO:

INT. CHANCE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Modest. A strange variety of art from around the world.

Museum quality pieces sitting beside garbage movie posters...

(CONTINUED)

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CONTINUED:

No real unifying sensibility to any of it. Clothes strewn

about, dishes piled by the sink. The place is in complete

disarray. We get the sense that it’s always that way.

As we enter, we get a look at the owner of the feet from the

hallway. Black, early 40s. ˙He flips through some junk mail

on the table, including A FED EX BOX. Separate from the mail,

he sees an unmarked envelope. Lifts it open, and sees a

bundle of cash inside. This, as a humongous ROTTWEILER greets

him. When the Man speaks, it’s with a British accent...

MAN:

Hello Carmine... How’s your buddy today?

CHANCE (O.S.)

Completely immortal...

Chance emerges from the other room. His shirt is off, and we

see the damage from the explosion. Scratches on his face; a

noticeable limp; a large bandage on his chest... Behind him,

a DOCTOR emerges from the other room as well.

DOCTOR:

Hello, Winston.

Meet WINSTON, Chance’s business partner, and trusted friend.

WINSTON:

Doc. Didn’t think I’d see him on his

feet for weeks.

DOCTOR:

I’m as surprised as anyone, considering

the shape he was in.

Chance sits, and the dog jumps up licking his face. As the

Doctor goes to leave, he pulls Winston aside-

DOCTOR (CONT’D)

That wound is still opening up whenever

it feels like it. It’ll heal, but... He

needs to take it easy. No kidding.

Beat. Winston nods. But as Doc reaches for the envelope of

cash, Winston puts his hand down on it defensively. The Doc

gives Winston a look... Really?

DOCTOR (CONT’D)

Been keeping my mouth shut for 10 years.

You really think I need to hear the rules

again?

Almost immediately, Winston feels a little silly. He lets go

of the envelope. The Doc takes it.

(CONTINUED)

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CONTINUED:
(2)

DOCTOR (CONT’D)

Winston, is everything alright?

WINSTON:

Yeah... Thanks for your help.

Doc lingers a beat, before exiting.

CHANCE:

You came to check on me?

WINSTON:

Who do you think’s been feeding that

beast all this time you’ve been laid up?

CHANCE:

Figured maybe he finally got a hold of

the mailman and had just been eating him.

Winston inspects the Fed Ex box on the table.

WINSTON:

I see Lydecker finally sent payment...

Winston unpacks the box to produce a WHISKEY BOTTLE. He

looks at it, puzzled. Holds it up to Chance.

WINSTON (CONT’D)

Whiskey...?

CHANCE:

It’s not whiskey. It’s 30 year old

Yamazaki. It’s a $900 bottle of scotch.

(off Winston’s look)

Hey, that stuff’s not easy to find...

WINSTON:

When I suggested we might keep

transactions quiet by bartering instead

of cash, I assumed you understood I

meant, ‘bartering for things of value’.

(re:
a canvas by the table)

This is a Degas. It has great value.

(re:
the whiskey)

This is a slow Tuesday night for you.

CHANCE:

(re:
the scotch)

Ken Lydecker is a good guy who was in a

bad spot. I figured he could use a break.

(re:
the Degas)

That guy... I didn’t much like that guy.

(CONTINUED)

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CONTINUED:
(3)

WINSTON:

(beat)

Alright, setting aside for the moment

your stunning disregard for our solvency,

there’s a bigger conversation I’ve been

putting off...

(then)

There are a finite number of times you

can cause a mess of that magnitude and

still have clients show up at our door.

CHANCE:

Don’t start... I told you, it was the

only way to stop the guy from killing

Lydecker, along with dozens of bystanders.

WINSTON:

I understand that. What I can’t figure

out is why it got that far. Why not

challenge him at the outset? You said he

hadn’t armed the vest yet, why not disarm

him cleanly before he did?

CHANCE:

What do you think, I let it get that far

because I thought it’d be fun?

WINSTON:

I don’t know, mate, you tell me.

CHANCE:

Come on-- I controlled the situation.

WINSTON:

The building explo-

CHANCE:

--exploded, I know, I was there.

(then)

I waited because I felt Lydecker was in

no immediate danger. I let it play out

until I had an angle. When the bomb

went, I got distance, gave myself cover.

I was in control the whole time.

A beat, Winston unable to take that at face value, but

unready to push the issue. Yet. He nods, gets up to leave.

CHANCE (CONT’D)

Where are you headed?

WINSTON:

Peale has a referral he wants me to see.

(CONTINUED)

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CONTINUED:
(4)

CHANCE:

I can come.

WINSTON:

No you can’t. Shop stays closed while

you recover. No discussion.

CHANCE:

Hey... Thanks for worrying. But really,

there’s nothing to worry about.

Off Winston, hoping that’s true. He exits.

CUT TO:

INT. CHANCE’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Chance and Winston’s non-descript office. Could belong to

any small business in LA. Seated across from Winston is

STEPHANIE DOBBS (35, sophisticated-sexy) and her husband

JAMES (40s). In the corner is PEALE, a local cop.

STEPHANIE:

It was about a week ago. I get in the car

to go to work, and it won’t start. Two

hours later, I’m at the dealership, and

the mechanic comes out with this look on

his face... He says the good news is my

battery’s dead. The bad news is he found 8

ounces of Primasheet 2000 under the hood-

WINSTON:

Plastic explosive.

STEPHANIE:

Had the car started...

WINSTON:

Lucky battery.

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