Strange Days Page #12

LENNY:

Fairly twisted logic, Max, even for

you.

(already over it)

Hey, at least you got a job!

(slaps him on the

back)

Watch her for me. Stay on her.

MAX:

I'm on her.

Lenny climbs the stairs to the MAIN FLOOR, pushing his way

through the crowd.

Vita, watching the backstage area leans over to Tran,

whispers in his ear. Tran makes a sign to Beemer, and he

stands to go after Lenny.

Mace, at the bar, sees the Tran-Vita-Beemer action, looks

around for Lenny. Can't find him. But figures there's

got to be only one reason Beemer's on the prowl: he's

looking for Lenny. She whips out her cellular.

CUT TO:
Beemer, grabbing Lenny in a painful come-along

hold and hustling him toward the back of the club.

Lenny's cellular rings.

LENNY:

Can I get that?

He reaches for his cellular, connects with...

MACE, over by the bar.

MACE:

Hey Lenny, where the hell are you, I

think Tran's got Beemer looking for

you.

BACK TO:
Lenny, as he's hustled out the rear door.

LENNY:

Thanks for the tip.

CUT TO:

EXT. ALLEY/RETINAL FETISH - NIGHT

Beemer shoves Lenny into the alley and shuts the door

behind him.

LENNY:

I recognize you. You're Wade

Beemer. Running back for the Rams,

am I right?

Beemer, who was about to go to work on Lenny, pauses.

BEEMER:

Yeah, that's right.

LENNY:

I saw you play, man. You were good.

Like a f***ing freight train I

remember saying. So what happened,

injuries or what?

BEEMER:

Bullshit politics.

LENNY:

It's always politics. Like this

thing we're in here, he's paying you

to tune me up, right? But I could

pay you more not to. See what I

mean? I could write you a check

right now--

BEEMER:

Come on, let's go, I got to get

back.

LENNY:

(pulling money out

of his pocket)

Okay cash! Logical. Here's

everything I have on me, what do you

say? How about a Rolex?

BEEMER:

(barely a glance at

it)

I already got a real one. Come on,

it won't be too bad. It's not

personal.

LENNY:

(taking off the

Armani carefully)

Just not the eyes.

Beemer swings.

CUT TO:

EXT. PARKING LOT/RETINAL FETISH - NIGHT

As Lenny approaches the car, moving painfully, dabbing at

a bloody nose. Mace looks at him pityingly.

LENNY:

They oughta get some lights back

there. A person could get killed

slipping on those stairs. Let's go.

CUT TO:
an eerie NIGHT VISION SHOT of Mace and Lenny

getting into the limo. Then we see: Spreg and Engelman,

the two street Hun cops. Watching.

CUT TO:

INT. MACE'S LIMO

Lenny slumps in the back seat.

MACE:

You're some piece of work, you know

that. Just calmly backstroking

around in the big toilet bowl, and

somehow you never let it touch you.

I mean, between Vice and this so-

called occupation you're in now, you

must've seen it all.

LENNY:

I have crawled through the gutter...

through every wrinkle in the human

brain.

MACE:

What I'm saying. But you still come

out this goofball romantic.

LENNY:

It is my sword and my shield, Macey.

Lenny finds the anonymous tape in his pocket. He looks a

it, puzzled.

MACE:

What's that? Present from Faith?

LENNY:

No idea.

He opens his briefcase, pops the tape into the deck, puts

the Squid rig on and closes his eyes. Maybe he can forget

about Faith a minute. He punches PLAY.

POV SEQUENCE:
the first thing we notice is that the POV is

distorted visually. The colors are de-saturated. Almost

black and white. Yet the detail is crisp and clear,

almost hyper-real.

WE ARE WALKING down a windowless hallway at a large hotel.

An apparently endless row of doors. The Wearer's glance

goes to the numbers on the doors from time to time.

We come to a particular door. There is a DO NOT DISTURB

sign on the door. The Wearer moves to the room next door.

Looks both ways. The corridor is empty.

LENNY:

It's a test pattern so far.

"Our" hands appear, quickly pulling on latex surgical

gloves. They look like male hands. The snapping of the

rubber is the only sound in the corridor. The POV hunches

down to the lock and we see the hands go to work with

lock-picking tools. Several seconds and the lock is very

professionally picked.

LENNY:

Alright, a little B&E action.

We enter the dark room, which is vacant. The drapes are

open and we see city lights. It is night. One gloved

hand picks up the guest directory and looks at it in the

moonlight coming in the window: the SUNSET SHERATON.

The Wearer drops the directory and the hands reappear

holding... a black ski-mask. He pulls it on, leaving the

subsequent POV seen through the eye-holes of the mask.

The Wearer now looks into a mirror on the dresser. He has

avoided his reflection up until now. We see a man,

dressed in a jogging suit and black fanny-pack, and of

course the ski-mask. Totally anonymous.

LENNY:

Hey, getting good. Solid suspense

build.

The Wearer crosses to the balcony door. Opens it quietly

and goes outside, moving to the wall dividing this room's

balcony from the one next door.

The Wearer climbs the railing and, six stories above the

pavement, slips around the wall, stepping down onto the

other balcony. We hug the wall, looking furtively into

the room. It is a suite. In the living room we see a

woman making herself a drink at the mini-bar. She

turns...

It is Iris. She is wearing a T-shirt and panties.

Probably ready for bed. She looks like she can't sleep.

Pours the Scotch shakily.

CUT TO LENNY, the streetlight washing across his face. He

gets suddenly serious with a flash of premonitory dread.

IN POV we see Iris go into the bedroom, out of sight. We

can hear the television on in there. Using a steel jimmy

the Wearer slips the latch on the balcony slider and

silently opens it, slipping inside.

We stalk quietly to the bedroom door, listening to her

movements. Water running in the bathroom. We come around

the door frame. Bedroom dark, bathed in TV glow. Iris in

the bathroom, washing her face with cold water.

We move toward her. Crossing the room as she reaches for

a towel. We are now only a couple of feet away. She

comes out of the bathroom, walking right past us, drying

her face. She lowers the towel, turning away... her eyes

whip back. Widening in terror.

She reacts with surprising speed, diving across the bed.

We go after her.

Her hand goes under the pillow and comes out with a small

automatic. She whips it around toward us but we grab it

and twist it away before she can fire. She smashes the

palm of her hand into our face and rolls off the bed,

lightning-fast.

We follow her as she scrambles up, running through the

bedroom door. Across the living room and down the short

hall to the front door. Closing rapidly on her as she

somehow gets the chain off the door and gets out into the

hall.

Slam! We tackle her against the far wall of the corridor.

Our right hand comes into view holding a small electric

stunner. ZAP! We nail her right in the back between the

shoulder blades.

She sags to the floor, gasping. We zap her again. The

Wearer's glance does a 180 both ways down the corridor...

nobody in sight. We clamp our hand over Iris' mouth and

drag her back into her room, locking the door.

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