Smokin' Aces Page #28

MARGIE:

Oh you silly-sil! Never mind,

Grandma'll get it!

Margie marches off and Warren immediately rushes over to the

tub, placing himself directly over the inert Elmore and

assuming a martial arts stance. He opens his mouth to speak

and the ice cream sandwich tumbles out, landing in the tub.

WARREN:

(barking out)

Bow to your opponent!

Warren bows before he squares up and begins methodically

delivering a "Kata" of punches and kicks... violently and

expertly snapped within millimeters of Elmore's face. Elmore,

helpless to raise his arms or defend himself, stares in horror

as the boy, his glasses beginning to fog and drip with

perspiration, works himself into a furious lather.

ELMORE:

(trying to speak)

Pl-- kid, st-- stop...

Elmore holds up his stump of a hand,pinky wagging in pathetic

plea -- no use -- Warren is in a state of unhinged, near-

animal frenzy -- his eyes wild, a small, yet prominent

erection beginning to poke through his karate gee...

Margie returns to the bathroom, scolds her grandson. He

squares up on her, feigning a blow to her face. She clouts

him, hard backhand, big flabby arms restraining him,

hauling him out of the bathroom. He bleats like a butchered

sheep.

Elmore, left alone, stark naked, shaking -- he turns his

head, gazing into the other room -- a newscast plays on the

television:
A Reporter, lakeside, via live feed... standing

in the same parking lot where Deeks and Dupree were killed.

CUT TO:

TELEVISION SCREEN

We slowly DOLLY BACK, revealing a different room.

REPORTER (ON SCREEN)

-- the two men slain here earlier

today as authorities speculate as to

the apparent disappearance of a third.

The names of the victims are being

withheld, pending notification of

family members, but Action Seven has

learned that one of the deceased,

identified as Jack Dupree --

INT. HOTEL ROOM -- BLACKJACK INN -- SAME

Rupert Reed, sh*t-faced off belts of straight scotch, a stack

of shot-glasses on his chest, gaped-jawed at the television.

REPORTER:

-- was a resident of Las Vegas, Nevada --

Reed lurches up, going for the phone, shot-glasses scattering,

scotch bottle upending, bouncing off the bed.

REED:

(to himself, dialing)

...holy sh*t, sh*t, sh*t...

CUT TO:

TELEVISION SCREEN

We slowly DOLLY IN now.

REPORTER:

We've also learned that Mr. Dupree

was employed as a process server and

bondsman for Draygo Bail Bonds and

may have been in this area on a

fugitive apprehension --

INT. GAMBLER'S RAMBLE HOTEL -- SAME

Victor Padiche, playing solitaire, one card frozen in his

hand as he watches the news.

PADICHE:

...uh oh...

REPORTER:

A rental vehicle, registered in Mr.

Dupree's name, has been recovered in

the parking lot of the nearby Nomad

Hotel & Casino...

CUT TO:

INT. NOMAD HOTEL & CASINO -- PARKING STRUCTURE -- DAY

Agent Messner arrives, flanked by shotgun-toting Sheriff's

deputies, local cops and Bureau field agents. They deploy,

cordoning off the scene, taking control.

WE SEE Hugo and Doc Gill, ducking down, Hugo still has the

phone to his ear. As they approach a rear stairwell with a

door that reads:
"AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY: PENTHOUSE LEVEL"

two FEDS descend, chaining and bolting the door.

HUGO:

Sh*t... answer the f***ing phone.

CUT TO:

INT. NOMAD HOTEL -- PENTHOUSE -- SAME

The phone is still ringing as Soot, Browning 9mm at his side,

stalks the voices coming from the master bedroom

CUT TO:

INT. MASTER BEDROOM -- SAME

Ivy, fingers brushing his gun grip, stares Israel down.

SIR IVY:

Y'ain't never had to wash another

man's blood off, dig it out

y'fingernails... Y'had us for that.

Y'ain't ever made a real beef on

y'own, sh*t as light in the ass as

you are, I'll bet you ain't ever

made anything more than a f***'n

fist your whole life.

(beat)

So if you think I'mma let your lil'

punk-ass, with the dirt I've done

for you, in the eleventh hour, sell

me off like some f***ing field n*gger,

hand me up to the Feds like y'last

chip, then you done gone straight

out-your-motherfucking MIND!

ISRAEL:

(nodding to phone)

That's Mecklen. The deal's closing.

I can pick that phone up and I can

work this out.

(beat, for effect)

You'll walk with me.

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