The Crow Page #4

grabbing for purchase, suddenly panicked, gravity pulling him

downward.

ANGLE - AT ERIC FROM PHONE CABLE BRACKET

Eric falls but manages to grab

the bracket one-handed. He hangs

for another deadly moment, then slowly,

to his own astonishment,

executes a one-handed pull-up that will save his

ass.

ERIC:

Gotcha.

He completes the pull-up, bringing his chin level

with the

ledge. As he reaches for it with his other hand the bracket

rips from the wall and Eric plummets, with a howl of defeat.

UP ANGLE:

FROM STREET - ERIC'S DOWNFALL

It's a looooooong way down.

ANGLE -

ALLEYWAY:

as Eric lands and splits a trash can in two. A beat as we

wonder

if any bones are left unpulped. PUSH IN as Eric rolls from

facedown to his back.

TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE

as he completes the

roll, gasping, amazed he's still in one

piece.

ANGLE - TRASHCAN - ON

THE CROW:

It flies easily down to inspect Eric as he slowly sits up,

examining his hands. Frustrated and pissed off.

ERIC:

Thanks.

CLOSE-UP - THE CROW

Not "your welcome", but other-worldly patience. It

waits.

RESUME ERIC:

ERIC (CONT'D)

Where're we going next -- the

sewer?

EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT

Still, dark silence until Eric lands from

ABOVE FRAME, feline.

The crow lands simultaneously b.g., perched near a

roof access

door with a shaded, dim-yellow bulb.

CLOSE-UP - THE CROW

It

just blinks at him.

INT. ABANDONED STAIRWELL - NIGHT

as Eric yanks

open the rusty rooftop door from the outside and

sweeps down the steps in

a swirl of night mist

ANGLE - FOOT OF STAIRS

Trash and detritus all

around, clogging the arteries of the

building, which is old, unoccupied,

forsaken. The crow lights

on a scarred banister knob. Eric's footsteps

come down into frame.

ANGLE ON LOFT DOOR - INCLUDE ERIC

A year ago this

door was sealed with police barricade tape...

which now sags, faded.

A:

sticker across the jam notifies potential trespassers that

this is -- was

-- a crime scene. Eric slows, stops, his hand

on the banister.

ANGLE -

THE CROW:

as is wafts ahead of Eric, arriving at the door first.

ANGLE:

ON ERIC, THE DOOR, THE CROW

Eric has had enough.

ERIC:

Are we

finished yet?

CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S HAND ON BANISTER

sliding along, as he

speaks, until it hits a cigarette burn.

PUSH IN ON ERIC - TIGHT

stiffening as he suffers his second --

FLASH:
IMAGES and DIALOG are not

linked. A rapidfire MONTAGE set

in the loft, a year earlier (it is

decorated for Halloween).

The broken door. The stairwell is filled with

cops and cop

noise; lab guys bustle. Albrecht is there, making notes as

a

DETECTIVE steps over to him.

ALBRECHT:

Victim's name is Shelly

Webster.

The guy who got tossed is, uh ...--

(checks his notebook)

Albrecht grinds out his smoke on the banister.

FLASH ENDS.

RESUME:

ERIC ON THE STAIRS.

He sits down hard, hurting from the flash. His eyes

seek the

crow. He completes Albrecht's line:

ERIC:

"Draven, Eric."

EXT. THE PIT - NIGHT

LOW DOLLY of Elly's little combat boots moving

toward the

entryway of the pit. MUSIC gradually UP LOUDER O.s. as she

nears.

ANGLE - ELLY IN DOORWAY

Luridly-lit. A grown-up's place. A

burly BOUNCER appraises

her, his tone jokey. He knows Elly.

BOUNCER:

Hey! You got any ID?

ELLY:

Very funny. Ha. Ha. Oh my,

sides.

The

Bouncer jerks a thumb. Go on in.

INT. THE PIT - NIGHT

A grungy

sawdust-floored shot-and-beer joint packed tight

with urban BURNOUTS

rushing to drink their lives away. Hammering

MUSIC and rude whorehouse

lighting. Each predator straining to

be badder than the next.

TRACK:

THROUGH this maze at Elly's eye level until we reach

DARLA, waitressing

her heart out, the drug mileage on her

obvious.

ELLY:

Mom --?

DARLA:

I told you you're not supposed

to come in here.

ELLY:

(a

quick lie)

I lost my key.

Disgustedly -- goddamn kids -- Darla fishes

up a key and slaps

it into Elly's hand.

FUNBOY (O.S.)

Hey, Darla --

before we die of old

age, how about it --?

DARLA:

(to Elly)

Out. Now. I gotta work.

RACK PAST Darla and MOVE IN CLOSE on a corner

table -- where sit

Funboy, Skank, T-Bird and a black, vested muscle

gypsy, TIN-TIN.

INT. LOFT - NIGHT

As Eric shoves the door open from

the outside. The lock, popped

from the frame, spins on the wooden floor.

The barrier tape

whisps and dust roils. Dark, chilly, damp. A rat's

nest of

disuse.

PULL BACK THROUGH THE BROKEN PICTURE WINDOW

as Eric

enters. Glass blown out. Shards poking. Jagged.

NEW ANGLE - AS ERIC

WALKS IN:

He scans the loft. Sees reflecting golden eyes near the floor.

ERIC'S POV - FLOOR NEAR WINDOW

A white, long-haired cat walks into a

pool of night light.

ANGLE - ERIC AND THE CAT

He kneels. Extends his

hand. The cat nears; likes Eric.

CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S HAND.

as the cat

makes contact. Sudden white jolt - a FLASH.

FLASH:
we HEAR Eric

strumming his Strat o.s. We see what he

saw:
Shelly, holding the cat.

FLASH ENDS.

UP ANGLE - ERIC

Wincing. Recovering from the flash. He

purposefully gathers

the cat into his arms and braces for more, harder,

stronger...

FLASH:
A MAN and a WOMAN make love on a big bed amidst a

hundred

points of candlelight. Shelly and Eric, once upon a time.

FLASH ENDS.

REVERSE ANGLE FROM BEDROOM DOOR - ON ERIC

as the cat,

dropped, hits the floor and scrambles out of the way.

CLOSE-UP - ERIC

vising his head, teary-eyed, his nose bleeding.

ERIC:

No! Don't look!

No! No!

He whirls unexpectedly and punches his fist completely through

the masonry wall.

FLASH:
Eric and Shelly in a mock waltz. He spins her

and they

collapse on the bed.

FLASH ENDS.

ANGLE - ERIC

slowly

pulling his arm out of the wall.

ERIC:

(whispering)

Stop it.

His eyes roll up and he slumps the length of the door frame like

a

drowning man.

ANGLE - GABRIEL

watching Eric. He hits with an o.s.

THUD.

INT. THE PIT - ON FUNBOY'S TABLE - NIGHT

As a gloved hand sets

up four bullets next to four shots.

FUNBOY (O.S.)

Let's have some

fun.

Funboy pops the bullet, like a contact capsule and washes it down.

T-Bird turns to Tin-Tin, the new guy.

T-BIRD

You first.

TIN-TIN

You're outta your f***in' mind.

Into it, almost jazzed, Tin-Tin downs

his bullet and shot, and

T-Bird does likewise. Points to Skank.

T-BIRD

No. I'm not the lunatic. He is.

Skank riles, pulls a huge Auto

Mag and sticks it in T-Bird's

face, cocking.

SKANK:

F*** you, T-Bird.

Just as lightning fast, T-Bird has his own gun out and jammed

right under

Skank's jawbone. He makes a kissy face.

T-BIRD

I love you too, you

madman.

They all crack up laughing like ax murderers. Skank drinks,

Tin-Tin spot checks the satchell from Top Dollar's. Darla

delivers more

shots and funboy feels her ass.

FUNBOY:

Hey, pussycat.

INT. LOFT -

DOWN ANGLE (CROW POV) - ERIC ON FLOOR

He's awake. Pushes himself up.

REVERSE ANGLE - THE CROW

Is perched in a dead light fixture, monitoring

Eric.

ANGLE - ERIC ON FLOOR

He's awake. Pushes himself up. Realizes

he is in the center of a

faint chalk outline on the hardwood floor. He

reaches to touch

the dark stain of old blood.

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