Men in Black Page #3

From over the rise, car engines WHINE in the distance and

headlights start to flash around them. Kay reaches into his

pocket and pulls out a tubular metallic device the size of a

pocket recorder. He checks his watch, figures in his head,

then dials an electronic counter on the side of the device

up to "08."

KAY:

This is called a "neuralyzer." A

gift from some friends from out of

town. The red eye here isolates and

measures the electronic impulses in

your brain. More specifically, the

ones for memory.

Behind him, six more MEN IN BLACK, all wearing black suits

and sunglasses, come over the hill. Kay barks a few orders

to them.

KAY:

Gimme a splay burn on the perimeter,

please; holes at 40, 60, and 80.

2ND INS AGENT

What in the hell is going on?!

KAY:

Exactly the right question. And the

answer lies right -- here. Pay

attention.

JANUS:

Who are you, really?

KAY:

Really? I'm just a figment of your

imagination.

He holds up the neuralyzer. The Agents peer closely at it.

Kay reaches into his pocket, puts on his own black sunglasses --

-- and pushes a button on the side of the neuralyzer. A

BLINDING FLASH a tenth of a second long sears the Agents'

eyeballs. They stare blankly.

KAY:

God, we're a gullible breed.

Behind him, TONGUES OF FIRE blast from a flame thrower held

by one of the Men in Black. Kay looks back at the INS Agents,

who are just coming around, as if awakening from a concussion.

KAY:

I mean it, fellas, you are lucky to

be alive after a blast like that.

The Agents look around, confused.

AGENT JANUS:

What -- blast?

Kay gestures behind him, where the Men in Black are now using

fire extinguishers to douse the flames they themselves

started.

KAY:

Underground gas vein, genius. You

guys need to exercise more caution

before discharging your firearms.

He jabs a finger into Janus' chest.

KAY:

Especially you.

Dee has moved away from them all and is sitting on a rock,

staring up at the night sky, his sunglasses dangling idly

from one hand. Kay steps away from the group and finds him.

He sits down next to him.

DEE:

I'm sorry. About... back there.

KAY:

Happens.

DEE:

Didn't used to.

He holds up his hands, which tremble with age.

DEE:

The spirit's willing, Kay, but the

rest of me...

He looks up, at the million stars shining overhead.

DEE:

They're beautiful, aren't they?

KAY:

What?

DEE:

The stars. We never just -- look.

Anymore.

(back to Kay)

I'll tell ya, Kay. I will miss the

chase.

Kay pulls his neuralyzer from his pocket and looks down at

it.

KAY:

No. You won't.

EXT. GRAND CENTRAL STATION - SOUTHERN EXPOSURE - NIGHT

A shot of the clock on the Station's stately southern

exposure. WE PAN DOWN TO...

A pair of feet running. They belong to a man we will know as

the PERPETRATOR. As we track with him, he SPEEDS UP and OUT

OF FRAME.

A new set of feet come into frame. These belong to JAMES

EDWARDS, a NYC COP in undercover street clothes. In the

BACKGROUND, about ten feet behind, are two other cops, trying

to keep up.

Edwards is a lot faster, though. He pulls out his badge that

hangs from a chain under his shirt.

EDWARDS:

Stop! NYPD!

He continues running, out of frame, and we stay on one of

the other COPS, overweight, who gives up the chase and drops

to his knees, heaving air.

COP:

All yours, Edwards!

The Cop fumbles in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes.

TRACK WITH EDWARDS AND THE PERP

As they run down the bridge that traverses Park Avenue in

the low Forties.

The Perp veers to the left and, seemingly oblivious to the

fact that it's a thirty-foot drop, he hurdles the guard rail,

and drops to Forty-first Street below.

EDWARDS is surprised by this maneuver, but doesn't waste a

second. He, too, hurdles the guard rail and lands on...

EXT. 41ST STREET AND PARK AVENUE - NIGHT

A DOUBLE-DECKER BUS, one of those cheesy sightseers that

hold up midtown traffic. The bus, of course, is completely

filled with JAPANESE TOURISTS, and it seems like every single

one of them has a video camera.

EDWARDS pushes through the crowd...

EDWARDS:

Grand Central Station off to your

left, folks...

With the bus still moving, he scrambles down the circular

stairs and runs out through the side door.

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