Logan Page #9

PIERCE (CONT’D)

You know, I read about you when I

was a kid. You tracked that crazy

gilled mutey fishy motherfuck, what

was his name, Wave?

(flutters his metal digits)

Tracked him halfway ‘cross the

Atlantic they said. And you was

underwater. Inside a sub. And you

found him anyway. Sh*t. That’s a

gift. That’s trackin’!

CALIBAN:

I'm sorry. I believe you're

thinking of someone else.

Pierce grins. SUDDENLY STRIKES Caliban with his metal hand.

PIERCE:

'I'm not mistaken, you used to work

for my team, for the good guys. You

were helping round up all the old

mutes.

Caliban says nothing. Pierce picks up Laura's ball.

PIERCE (CONT'D)

What changed? 'You got religion?

Pierce slides Laura's RED SLICKER onto the table.

PIERCE (CONT'D)

Gonna need you to help the good

guys one more time, and track one

more special for me.

CALIBAN:

I will not. I will not help you.

Pierce turns toward the blacked out kitchen window.

Starts to peel at the tar paper.

PIERCE:

Of course that’s what you’d say.

But then I got this theory that

people don't really change.

Pierce suddenly pulls the tar paper, RELEASING A SHARD OF

BRIGHT SUNLIGHT. Caliban cries out, tries to turn away.

PIERCE (CONT’D)

Beware the light, Caliban. I bet

that's what your Mommy said every

day when you was a kid.

Final Shooting - 8/23/2016 41.

CALIBAN:

Please-

PIERCE:

Beware the light.

Two Reavers force his face into the bright light. The

mutant’s eyes open. It burns.

PIERCE (CONT’D)

Let’s not bring out the worst in

each other. The girl’s not worth

it. She’s not a natural f***-up

like you. She's a business mistake.

R & D gone bad. There's liability.

They can't have things with patents

running around hurting people. So

we need to get her off board before

she hurts anybody else, someone you

care about maybe.

Pierce nods to his men and they put the hood back over

Caliban’s head and haul him out, crying.

WHISPERED VOICE (V.O.)

...My name is Gabriela Lopez.

CLOSE ON -- A PHONE, GABRIELA’S PHONE

ON THE SCREEN WE SEE-- A SHAKY SELFIE OF GABRIELA in a Mexico

City apartment. She looks healthier but grim.

GABRIELA:

I am a nurse and for ten years I

have worked at Transigen research

in Mexico City.

On screen, we are moving through corridors of a high end

research facility. See flashes of Gabriela in reflections in

glass, in a nurse’s uniform, recording surreptitious video.

GABRIELA (CONT'D)

Transigen is a owned by an American

company. And they pay better than

any Mexican hospital.

A SHAKY SHOT -- CLOSE ON letterhead from a memo -- ALKALI.

GABRIELA (CONT’D)

What I am about to show you is

illegal in the U.S. and Canada--

CLOSE ON -- A NEW SELFIE OF GABRIELA, now in a stockroom.

Final Shooting - 8/23/2016 42.

GABRIELA (CONT'D)

--and that is why they came here.

CUT TO -- A BRIGHTLY LIT WARD. A SLOPPY PAN ACROSS A GROUP OF

DRUGGED CHILDREN (ages 5-15) as they are prodded into kennel-

like enclosures decorated with tattered stuffed animals.

GABRIELA (CONT’D)

These children were born in this

building. They were born here and

they have never left. Never seen

the sun or ocean, the rain or snow

or any of God’s creatures.

Sleeping mats on tile floors with exposed drains and hoses.

Armed guards, some missing limbs, perhaps recognizable as

Reavers, juxtaposed against the cheerful sound of musak. This

place is a cross between a Children’s hospital and a kennel.

GABRIELA (CONT’D)

They have no birth certificates, no

names beside the ones we have given

them. They were raised in the

bellies of Mexican girls.

Grainy photos flip past, A BLOOD SPRAYED BIRTHING ROOM.

GABRIELA (CONT’D)

--girls no one can find anymore.

Images of test tubes. Vials of liquids. Electron microscopes.

GABRIELA (CONT’D)

Their fathers were semillas

gen.tica, special seeds in bottles.

VIDEO OF A BIRTHDAY PARTY IN THE WARD.

The children (5 years old) singing in Spanish over a birthday

cake with the Mexican staff. They are suddenly interrupted by

A RED HAIRED MAN IN A LAB COAT.

NEW SHOT-- the Red Haired MAN -- corridor

Surreptitiously recorded as he chastises the Mexican staff.

We pick up snatches of words.

RED HAIRED MAN:

We don’t bring them cake, Maria. We

do not dress them up for Halloween.

We do not call them baby or kiss

boo boos. They’re part of a study.

Do not think of them as children.

Think of them as things.

(MORE)

Final Shooting - 8/23/2016 43.

RED HAIRED MAN (CONT'D)

They have patents and copyrights.

Like this-(

throws a stapler)

Comprende?

NOW WE SEE-- SHAKY VIDEO OF TWO KIDS FIGHTING IN A PADDED

ROOM. A lab technician injects one with something and that

one starts beating the other, exhibiting tremendous strength.

A staff member screams in Spanish and tries to break it up.

AN ALARM SOUNDS. THE BOY IS HIT WITH TEASERS.

GABRIELA:

They told us they were part of a

pharmaceutical study.

NEW SHOT-- THE CAMERA NOW EXPLORES A ROOM THAT LOOKS LIKE A

GUN RANGE, WITH PADS AND HACKED UP DUMMIES. A kid fires an

automatic weapon with brutal accuracy.

NEW SHOT-- Children spar with MEN IN BODY ARMOR (REAVERS).

Special Ops combat skills in 8 year old bodies.

CAMERA PANS TO-- AN OBSERVATION WINDOW HIGH ABOVE THE FLOOR.

THE RED HAIRED MAN, 40, watches, expressionless.

GABRIELA (CONT’D)

But of course, that was a lie.

CLOSE ON -- A SELFIE OF GABRIELA at her apartment.

GABRIELA (CONT’D)

They thought we were too poor and

stupid to understand. We are poor,

but we are not stupid. I knew what

they were doing.

She holds up SEVERAL YELLOWED NEWSPAPER ARTICLES about XMEN.

And then several XMEN comic books.

GABRIELA (CONT’D)

When I was a child, I learned

English from these.

REVERSE TO REVEAL WE ARE--

INT./EXT. LIMO -- TRUCK STOP - TEXAS HIGHWAY - MORNING

Logan and Charles in the back, rapt, watching the video on

Gabriela’s phone, propped on the coffee table. Logan hands

Charles some pills and, after seeing him pop them in his

mouth, turn back to the video.

Final Shooting - 8/23/2016 44.

GABRIELA (ON PHONE)

This is business. They are making

soldiers. Weapons X. These are

babies of mutantes muerta.

The video suddenly stops. Screen goes BLACK.

CHARLES:

Is there more? Play it.

Logan puts on his reading glasses, picks up the phone, trying

to get it to play again. As he does this, Charles spits out

his pills and drops them in the seat crevice.

LOGAN:

Battery’s dead. We need a plug.

CHARLES:

How far is it?

(off Logan’s confusion)

To North Dakota.

LOGAN:

Charles.

CHARLES:

You took that woman’s money. You

told her you would take the child

there.

Logan stares out the open door at--

LAURA, sitting solemnly in one of those “Bucking Bronco”

rides as it bounces and plays a repeating fanfare.

LOGAN:

What is she?

CHARLES:

She’s your daughter, Logan.

(off his glare)

Alkali had your genetic code.

LOGAN:

Not just mine.

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