Terminal Page #3

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dispose of f***ing liabilities.

What do you mean,

I've become a f***ing liability?

EMCEE:
It's Bunny!

[crowd cheering]

- Shut up.

- We all play the game.

[cheering continues]

Shut up. Look at her.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Here we go again

The ending's just the same

Yeah? I'll show you game.

Yeah, are you

the famous Bunny?

ANNIE:
How abrupt.

Well, I'm not here

for conversation or culture.

I'm here for information.

Maybe a filthy lap dance,

if I can get one.

Then you're in

the right place, Vincent.

How do you know my name?

Bottle blonde!

What the f***ing hell

are you doing here?

Girl's got to eat.

Is there somewhere

we can go and talk?

That depends.

Have you got something for me?

I was thinking more of

an envelope stuffed with money.

[whistles]

Now, I bet that's gonna buy me

a few filthy lap dances.

Probably a lot more than that.

Come and find out.

Both of you,

down the rabbit hole.

Curiouser and curiouser.

They're with me, boys.

VINCE:
We've been sent here...

we don't know why...

to see you, apparently.

You're supposed to

give us something,

though why you couldn't

have given it to us

at the pissin' cafe

is way beyond me.

Then we leave.

Sound like a plan?

So.

So?

Look, I'm just the middleman.

Think of me as

a half-naked waitress

delivering goods

from one anonymous party

to another anonymous party

for a fee.

Or slightly less anonymous

in your case, Vincent.

- What's the combination?

- No idea.

Well, what good's a briefcase

if we ain't got the combination?

No idea.

Huh. Doesn't even need

a combination.

Thank you, Miss Bunny.

We'll be on our way.

Hang on.

There's something different

about you, bottle blonde.

Besides my stocking suspenders,

plunging cleavage,

and full face

of harlot's makeup?

[laughs]

Yeah, yeah, besides that.

ALFRED:
Time to go, Vince.

No.

I want my lap dance first

before I go anywhere.

[gun c*cks]

I'm ready if you are.

I'll let the dog

see the rabbit.

Let's go, Vince.

Floor show's over.

Let me show you chaps

the quick way out, shall I?

I'm gonna get that filthy lap

dance off of you, bottle blonde,

one way or another.

Come back again soon, handsome.

VINCE:
Alfred?

I'll even show you my tail.

Don't bring him.

Wow.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

One sniff of a whore's perfume,

you think you're in love.

I mean wow.

[laughs]

She looked better

as a waitress.

Wow!

VINCE:
You really are a twat,

you know that?

[ding]

It's the waiting

that's doing me in.

Just, um...

sitting around,

waiting to stop breathing.

My mom went in a house fire.

No waiting around there,

I suppose.

- I'm sorry.

- No, you're not.

You are utterly self-involved

at the moment,

completely wrapped up

in yourself.

Steady on.

Just 'cause I'm on my way out

doesn't mean I've turned

into a complete bastard.

Why not?

It's your prerogative.

That is your hard-won

silver lining.

I don't follow.

Okay, well, think of it

this way.

It's moral carte blanche.

It's an open invitation

to anarchy.

You can spend

your last days on Earth

doing whatever you want.

Rape away.

Smite to your heart's content.

Pillage the precinct

till the gutters run red,

and none of it will matter

because you'll be dead

by Sunday.

So go nuts!

You know, dry roasted,

sniper in the clock tower nuts.

Did something happen to you

as a child?

Besides my mother dying in agony

in a blazing inferno?

Oh, I am so sorry.

That was...

Don't apologize.

Rub my nose in it.

Come on, pillage me!

Sorry. Was that a bit naughty?

What happened to your thumb?

Oh, that.

An exercise in self-control.

Ah. It went well then.

[chuckles]

Look, all I'm saying is

this seems like

a really good opportunity

to do whatever

the hell you want.

Well, what if I want to

mope around in all-night cafes,

feeling sorry for myself?

Then, frankly,

I might as well do you in now

and save myself from

your self-indulgent tripe.

[laughing, coughing]

Well...

Well, I would appreciate that.

Annie.

Bill.

That's not your locker!

You're going to give me

a f***ing heart attack!

It is a criminal offense

to interfere with

either municipal storage

or precinct property.

Any suspicious activity

must be reported

to the appropriate

authorities immediately.

Why don't you piss off,

old man?

Mind your own business.

Supervisor.

Night Supervisor.

Duties to include sweeping

of concourse and platform,

maintenance

and attendance of all...

Shut up!

Tell me something.

Do I look to you like

the sort of individual

that creeps into the station

in the dead of night,

breaks open a locker,

removes a suspicious-looking

briefcase,

and then lets

the f***ing cleaner...

sorry, night supervisor...

run off and tell tall tales

about it?

Do I not strike you

more as the sort of

highly motivated,

highly vicious individual

that would not kill

said night supervisor

and stuff him

into the f***ing locker?

Acceptable forms of payment

at the terminal are as follows:

cash, banker's drafts,

certified checks up to the

value of the return journey.

[laughing]

I like you. You're funny.

All right, all right,

I'll clear it.

- Oh.

- Mum's the word, Supe.

- Okay.

- [laughs]

- Oh!

- Ten, twenty, thirty.

We all right, son?

When rich villains

have need of poor ones,

poor ones make

what price they will.

Come again?

I want more money.

Yeah.

- Oh, yeah.

- [laughs]

You know, when rich villains

get pissed off

with poor ones

overcharging them,

they go round their house,

they burn it,

they murder their family.

Terminal Train Lines

thanks you for your business

and wishes you

a pleasant evening.

What a f***ing crook!

[whistle]

- Yo, you better give me your...

- F*** off!

I just wanted to know

the time, mate.

My bad.

Yeah, that's it,

f***ing walk on.

Yeah, yeah, you better run.

D*ckhead.

[laughing]

- Just for you.

- Thanks.

[door slams]

VINCE:
Evening, bottle blonde.

Hello, Prince Charming.

- Alfred.

- Vince.

You want to put her down, mate.

You don't know where she's been.

You'll catch something.

Duty calls.

Well, it was lovely

seeing you again, handsome.

Can't say the same

for you, Vincent.

You want to get your head

in the game, mate?

You're getting sloppy.

I'll see you around,

bottle blonde,

if I don't shoot you first.

Ooh.

Vince!

Bang.

Wanker.

[machines beeping]

This was in the briefcase.

Press play.

I'm gonna stretch my legs.

I am Mr. Franklin.

I have no doubt

you know who I am

and what my business is worth.

I have an offer, a contract.

I want you

to kill someone for me.

You will lie in wait

in the apartment

I have provided for you.

You will be on call

24 hours a day,

seven days a week,

until I contact you to...

execute.

Jesus.

Before you commence,

I require one of you to

attend a face-to-face meeting.

Only one.

I do not like crowds.

That is all.

F***ing perfect.

Evening, bottle blonde.

Out for a casual stroll?

[Annie whistles]

Well, for f***'s sake.

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