The Crow Page #5

FLASH:
Shelly spills into

frame, mouth bloodied. T-Bird

instantly on top of her, rough.

FLASH:

ENDS.

ANGLE - WITH ERIC

as he abandons the outline and staggers to the

window... where

he cuts open his hand on jags of glass.

FLASH:
Eric

held firm in the grasp of T-Bird and Funboy, one

arm each. Five bloody

bullet holes in Eric's chest.

The thugs 1-2-3 and hurl Eric backwards

through the window,

which shatters.

FLASH ENDS.

ANGLE - ERIC AT THE

WINDOW:

Reeling backward, same trajectory as in the Flash, but toward

the

floor, in SLO-MO. Overloaded. Blacking out.

AS ERIC FALLS - INTERCUT

MONTAGE:

A jumble of good/bad images from the loft: Tin-Tin embedding a

page of paper in the loft wall with a throwing knife...

Shelly's face as

she lights a candle... a POPPING champagne

cork... the echoing CANNONADE

of the shots that killed Eric...

Skank backhanding Shelly... Shelly

blowing bubbles from a

clawfoot tub full of suds... Eric catching

Funboy's first slug

high in the chest... NEW ANGLE of the glass in the

window

blowing out as T-Bird and Funboy through Eric through...

ANGLE -

ERIC'S REAL TIME FALL

He plummets to BLACK OUT FRAME. THUMP. Out cold.

INT. PIT - RESUMING FUNBOY'S TABLE - NIGHT

Funboy contemplates his drink

as the previous scene reverbs.

FUNBOY:

More fun than a torture

chamber.

Tin-Tin's pocket pager goes BEEP and startles them all. Skank

nearly shoots it, jumpy. Tin-Tin pulls back on a black leather

trenchcoat after clicking off the pager.

TIN-TIN

I hate this goddamn

thing...

ANGLE - DARLA watching them from a distance as Tin exits.

INT. LOFT - FLOOR LEVEL - NIGHT

An enormous cockroach trundles past,

large in FRAME. RACK to

show Eric lying on floor b.g. as his eyes pop

open. A flurry of

dark motion as the crow flies past frame.

ANGLE --

THE CROW -- Having snatched the bug in it's beak. Eats

it.

ANGLE - ERIC

rising from the floor. Careful. Stealthy. Watches his fireplace.

ERIC:

We have company.

ANGLE ON FIREPLACE

Huge. Marble. COld. Eric's

paper mache masks of Comedy and

Tragedy still hang there. The Skull

Cowboy steps out of the

dark and into the vague blue light. Shadowy as

ever.

SKULL COWBOY:

Having fun yet? No?

(beat)

I'll give you a

hint. Remember

whatshername?

ERIC:

Shelly?

SKULL COWBOY:

Miss

her?

ERIC:

Yes.

SKULL COWBOY:

Kill the men who killed you both,

and the Day of the Dead will be

your reunion.

The Skull Cowboy

prestidigitates a flat throwing knife(like Tin-

Tin's). Eric's gaze

follow it closely.

SKULL COWBOY (CONT'D)

You must use your eyes.

He

points to the crow.

ANGLE - THE COMING KNIFE - ("CROWVISION")

Weirdly

distorted, a shared vision between Eric and the crow.

TIGHT ON ERIC:

As

he DUCKS out of the path of the knife he sees through the

bird's eyes.

He rolls.

ON THE CROW:

It hops out of the way as the knife embeds in the

wall. Eric's

ROLL finishes him up nearby.

ERIC:

Goddammit.

He grabs

for the knife as if to use it on the Skull Cowboy, but

the knife causes

an unexpected painful FLASH.

FLASH:
Eric bouncing off the bedroom

doorframe, Tin-Tin's knife

stuck in his shoulder.

FLASH ENDS.

RESUME:

ERIC:

vising his head with his hands, in pain. Too much pain.

SKULL:

COWBOY:

Get it?

ERIC:

Leave me alone -- !

He looks up, the Skull

Cowboy is still there.

SKULL COWBOY:

(contempt)

Do something

about it.

ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND THE SKULL COWBOY.

A horrible beat

between them. The Eric runs full tilt across

the room, bounding to the

open window and then leaping.

ANGLE - SKULL COWBOY

as close to surprise

as he gets. Steps out to watch as --

ANGLE ON WINDOW - ERIC

FLIES feet

first out into space.

CLOSE-UP - BRICKWORK ABOVE WINDOWFRAME

Eric's

fingers smash into grip the tiny mortared gaps!

EXT. LOFT BUILDING - UP

ANGLE FROM STREET - NIGHT

High above, Eric's feet shoot out the window,

knocking loose

stray shards that fall toward frame. He swings into an

upside-

down pose, impossibly holding himself rigid against the

building's side, face down. by his quarter-inch finger grip.

CLOSE-UP -

ERIC:

Every muscle rigid, quivering with tension. Hold. Then he

relaxes, and swings back inside.

INT. LOFT - AT WINDOW, PICKING UP ERIC

- NIGHT

He arches, flips, to land on his feet. The Skull Cowboy is

gone. No knife either. The crow watches. O.S. "meow".

ANGLE - WITH

ERIC AS HE TURNS TO SEE THE CAT

ERIC:

I guess I'm not ready to

leave...

just yet.

He picks up the cat -- wary of flashes, which don't

come this

time -- and returns to the window. Feeling safer.

ERIC:

(CONT'D)

The last time we saw each other,

I didn't do so well.

(holds cat up)

Huh, Gabriel?

He moves to the fireplace. With his free

hand, lifts the

Tragedy mask off its hook. Puzzles it, fact-to-mask.

ERIC (CONT'D)

I bet you need some cat food...

right?

EXT. STREET -

NIGHT -ESTABLISHING:

Eric walking, the Tragedy mask hanging from his

hip. An

occasional PEDESTRIAN passes without comment, brutalized

by the

city. Eric, more confident, smells the night's bouquet.

EXT. ALLEY -

NIGHT ("CROWVISION")

Two men around a trashcan fire. We should

recognize Tin-Tin by

his black leather trench coat. A wonderfully rude

Rap tune, "Got

a White WOman Tied Up In My Closet, Gonna Jab Her With A

Stick,"

RAZZLES b.g.

EXT. STREET - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT

As Eric

reacts to what the crow has just seen. Slows. Stops.

And directs his

attention toward the mouth of the alley.

EXT. ALLEY - TIGHT ON TIN-TIN

- NIGHT

He pulls the nickel plated revolver from the satchel. FOLLOW as

he hands it across to RATSO, who removes the suitcase-sized boom

box

(the source of the music) from his shoulder to accept.

Ratso is a feral

skull-head; street trash.

TIN-TIN

Three hundred and your a

gunslinger.

HIGH ANGLE - TIN-TIN and RATSO

As the crow is still

watching, yet perched. A brief

shove-and-standoff. The gun deal has

gone bad.

RATSO:

Please, TIn-Tin, you know I'm good

for the money,

man, I promise,

Leslie put me up to it, please,

man, don't --

(choking scream)

Tin-Tin has just up-rammed a throwing knife into Ratso.

TIN-TIN

Ratty -- shut the f*** up.

Tin-Tin lifts Ratso on the knife,

gutting him. Ratso goes

slack, deader'n hell. Tin-Tin reaches around to

click OFF

the boom box... then let's Ratso`s corpse fall.

ERIC (O.S.)

Another satisfied customer?

TIGHT ANGLE - TIN-TIN

galvanized by the

surprise voice. He automatically draw a

fresh knife from the bandolero

of knives across his chest inside

the coat. Can't yet track the source

of the voice.

TIN-TIN

Who the hell is that?

(beat, venomous)

Come on out man, I won't hurt

you.

ANGLE - ERIC IN ALLEY

He steps out

from behind another flaming trashcan. Wearing a

long black scarf and

the Tragedy mask.

ERIC:

Hello, Tin-Tin.

ANGLE ON TIN-TIN - AS HE

RISES (FROM RATSO)

trying to process what he sees. And cover. And buy

time.

TIN-TIN

Little early from trick-or-treat,

homie.

(re:

Ratso)

This dick trying to bushwack me.

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