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Men in Black Page #9
- PG-13
- Year:
- 1997
- 98 min
- 1,476 Views
One chair is empty.
ZED:
You're late. Sit down.
Edwards takes the remaining chair. The elevator doors slide
shut. Zed continues addressing the Recruits.
ZED:
My name is Zed. You're all here
because you're the best of the best.
Marines, Navy SEALS, Army Rangers...
NYPD.
They all turn and regard Edwards a little smugly. He gives
it back.
ZED:
And we're looking for one of you.
Just one. What will follow is a series
of simple tests designed to quantify
motor skills, hand-eye coordination,
concentration, stamina -- I see we
have a question.
Edwards's hand is, indeed, up.
EDWARDS:
Why, uh -- I'm sorry, it's just no
one really asked this, but -- why,
exactly, are we doing this?
Silence. Then one of the young recruits eagerly raises his
hand. Zed calls on him.
ZED:
Son?
AMBITIOUS RECRUIT
(loud and formal)
Jake Jensen, West Point, graduate
with honors. We're here because you're
looking for the best of the best of
the best, sir!
Edwards tries to stifle a laugh, but can't.
ZED:
What's so funny, Edwards?
EDWARDS:
I -- I don't know, sir. This guy.
"Best of the best of the best of the
best of the --"
(realizing nobody is
with him on this)
It just struck me as --
(totally serious)
Humorous. Sir.
Short pause. Then Zed continues.
ZED:
Okay. Let's get going.
INT. MIB BUILDING - INTERVIEW ROOM - LATER - DAY
The recruits scribble away at the written test. It's a thick
document --
reasoning skills, general knowledge, diagrams. The RECRUITS
seem to be really powering through it, filling in answer
after answer.
But no desks have been provided for them, and they're all
still in their chairs, writing uncomfortably on their thighs
or knees.
EDWARDS is really struggling. He writes two words on one
answer, then decides to erase it. The lack of a writing
surface is driving him crazy; his pencil even TEARS through
the page.
He looks up. In the middle of the tile floor, there is an
unused table.
Edwards gets up, goes to it, grabs hold --
-- and drags it, SCREECHING DEAFENINGLY, back to his chair.
Everybody looks up, wincing at the horrible sound that fills
the room.
Edwards sits back down, now writing on the table. That's
better.
Zed raises an eyebrow. He stares at Edwards, then looks up,
toward a smoked glass window. Behind the dark glass, a FIGURE
stands, staring, unemotional.
CUT TO:
INT. MIB BUILDING - SHOOTING GALLERY - DAY
SEVEN WEAPONS rest on a table in the middle of an otherwise
empty, triangular room. The SEVEN RECRUITS stand in front of
the table.
There's an odd moment -- where everyone sort of looks around:
at each other, at the blank walls...
EDWARDS:
Anyone, uh... any of you guys know
what we're doing here?
MARINE:
(clipped, unquestioning)
Looking for the best of the best of
the best.
EDWARDS:
(can't help but smile)
Well, yeah, I know, but...
And then... suddenly --
The two far walls pull apart. The whole room pulsates and
the air is suddenly filled with a bewildering swirl of
stroboscopic images, both human and alien. Everywhere is
color, light and movement -- a holographic mass of strange
shapes and characters moving simultaneously.
The Recruits lunge for the weapons, snapping them up and
taking aim. SIX SHOTS are fired at once. And then, a second
later, a SEVENTH SHOT is fired. Everyone sort of looks at
Edwards, who puts his gun down last.
There's an awkward silence. Then the door opens. Light pours
in, and ZED with it. Even the highly competitive cadets can't
help but feel some sympathy as Zed walks straight to Edwards.
ZED:
The hell happened?
EDWARDS:
Hesitated, sir.
Zed looks into the gallery. Most obvious in the frozen tableau
of creatures is a lunging, snarling beast, which has three
bullet holes in its chest. Next to it is a massively deformed
humanoid creature with a large hook for a head, which also
has three holes in it. In the back corner of the gallery,
there is a single bullet hole in a pretty eight-year-old
girl.
ZED:
May I ask why you felt little Tiffany
deserved to die?
EDWARDS:
She was the only one who actually
seemed dangerous. At the time.
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