The Crow Page #7

INT.

GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP - NIGHT

CLOSE-UP of Gideon's thick fingers shuffling

grimy currency.

Some scratchy 1920's TUNE plays throughout b.g., like a

broadcast

from another time and place.

TIGHTER ANGLE - GIDEON

looking

up at a metallic SOUND, o.s. Irritated.

GIDEON:

Piss off, we're

closed.

As the outside security gate rattles, Gideon draws his magnum

and approaches the front door.

GIDEON:

F***ing creatures of the night;

they never goddamn learn.

Sudden surprise as he sees the silhouette of

the gate SCREE back

against the frosted glass of the front door.

GIDEON (CONT'D)

HEY!!

And he hustles to close up the distance between

himself and the

door, gun up. Before he can touch the door, the crowbar

comes

rocketing through the glass, pegging Gideon in the forehead and

knocking him flat on his ass. He loses the pistol.

Eric walks through

the door, causing the fractured glass to

disintegrate around him. He

disclaims, thespian.

ERIC:

"Suddenly I heard a tapping, as of

someone

gently rapping, rapping at

my chamber door."

(pause)

You heard me

rapping, right?

LOW ANGLE - GIDEON ON THE FLOOR

reacting to Eric's

weird appearance and looking for his gun.

GIDEON:

Oh, bullshit!

You're trespassing

a**hole, you're breakin'

and enterin' and you just

bought me a

f***ing door!

During Gideon's rant, Eric brushes glass

cubes from his

shoulders, nonplussed. Now he flings Gideon across the

room.

Gideon crashes into the counter cage. As Eric advances on him:

ERIC:

I'm looking for something in an

engagement ring. Gold.

As Eric

comes up behind him, Gideon reaches through the open

cage door and pulls

a big combat knife from beneath the counter.

GIDEON:

You're looking

for a coroner,sh*t-

for-brains!

And he tries to nail Eric with the

knife.

NEW ANGLE - BEHIND GIDEON - AS GIDEON SWINGS

No Eric behind him.

TILT to reveal Eric hanging off the cage

above Gideon. Eric slams the

cage door against Gideon's head.

Drops down like a spider and collects

the knife.

ERIC:

I repeat:
a gold engagement ring.

It was pawned

here, a year ago, by

another gentleman whose name, I

believe was...

"T-Bird"?

IN TIGHT ON ERIC AND GIDEON

Eric twists Gideon's sail-like

shirt and Gideon turns bright red.

ERIC (CONT'D)

Cute nickname, don't

you think?

GIDEON:

(gasping)

I ain't got no f***in' ring.

ERIC:

Wrong answer.

Eric nails Gideon's hand to the counter top. Gideon

howls!

GIDEON:

All's I got is in a box! Behind

the counter!

Eric

jumps through the cage door. Gideon's eyes bug as he sees

his own

pierced hand, immobilized.

ANGLE - ON ERIC BEHIND THE COUNTER

scans the

shelves. Rows of boxed ammo. Kerosene tins. A shotgun.

Knives and

assorted knuckle duster curios. And the ring box.

CLOSE-UP - THE RING

BOX IN ERIC'S HAND.

Dozens of gold rings. Eric's fingers sift through

them.

TIGHTER ON ERIC:

He brings each ring to his face. INTERCUT with

Gideon's feeble

struggles and invective, o.s.

ERIC:

No... no... no...

no...

He tosses each rejected ring over his shoulder. Until:

CLOSE-UP

- THE RING IN ERIC'S HAND

Obliterated by a stab of brilliant white light

--

FLASH:
Shelly's face. A perfect vision...

FLASH ENDS.

RESUMING:

ERIC:

He closes his fist tightly around the ring. A moment of

decision.

Then he draws the shotgun from beneath the counter.

Uses the butt to

knock the knife free of Gideon's hand. It goes

spinning across the

countertop. Eric shucks the shotgun and

rams it into Gideon's nose as

the big man slumps to the floor.

ERIC:

Tin-Tin confided in me, before

he

ran out of breath. You have one

chance to live.

GIDEON:

No

f***ing way. He'll kill me.

ERIC:

Who would waste time killing you...

besides me?

Gideon sweats, pants, contemplates the hole in his hand.

GIDEON:

(cowed)

Top Dollar.

ERIC:

Another jolly nickname?

GIDEON:

You want those a**holes, you want

Top Dollar.

ERIC:

T-Bird?

GIDEON:

Like the car. He hangs out with

Skank. that little ass-hair,

and

they hang at the Pit -- hell,

Funboy lives there. Ask Top

Dollar.

ERIC:

A whole club of pirates, with

pirate names...

Eric seems to go

berserk, SMASHING and PUNCTURING cans of

flammables and powder while

Gideon flinches, nursing his holed

hand. Blows just miss Gideon's head.

Soon he's cowering.

LOW ANGLE - ERIC

Looking down at Gideon in

revulsion.

ERIC:

You feed off the living.

SMASH! as another tin

ceases to exist next to Gideon. Then

Eric is gone, past him without

further word, ignoring him

entirely. As he exits, shotgun shouldered, he

pauses to admire

a white Fender Strat hanging among the pawnables. He

reaches

for it.

ON GIDEON:

As he summons some last minute budget

bravery.

GIDEON:

You walk outta here Top Dollar

will erase your ass!

Top Dollar

owns the f***ing street here and

you can't dick with me, you

son of

a b*tch!

RESUME ERIC - FRAMED IN DOORWAY

The guitar now

bowslung across his back, the shotgun levelled at

Gideon's position.

ERIC:

One chance to live. Take it.

MOVE IN TIGHT ON GIDEON

as he

realizes what Eric means. Hauls ass and bangs through the

rear door with

a bleat of terror.

ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC IN DOOR

as he cuts loose

with the shotgun.

EXT. GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP - NIGHT

as seen from across

the street. Eric silhouetted, unmoving as

the whole store front blows

hellaciously out around him, raining

glass and debris. Stirring his

hair. Eric is the black eye of

the fireball.

LOW ANGLE - FRONT OF PAWN

SHOP - EMPHASIZE ERIC

lit by flames and residual explosions. He hurls

the shotgun

into the inferno. Casually brushes flaming/smoking detritus

from his own clothes.

ALBRECHT (O.S.)

Don't move! I said don't move.

NEW ANGLE - ERIC

as he turns slowly, to see Albrecht, out of reach, gun

drawn.

Eric's attitude lightens; Albrecht is not the threat here.

ERIC:

I thought the police always said

"freeze:
.

Albrecht divides his

attention, jumpy, between the odd sight of

Eric (guitar on his back), and

the raging instant inferno of

Gideon's.

ALBRECHT:

I'm the police and

I say don't

move, Snow White. You're under

arrest; I don't care what

else is

wrong with you! You move and

you're dead.

Eric has begun to

pace towards Albrecht. Palms up. A gesture of

submission. Albrecht's

battle calm begins to waiver.

ERIC:

And I say I'm dead... and I move.

ALBRECHT:

No further. I'm serious.

Eric bows, bringing his forehead in

line with the gun's muzzle.

ERIC:

Then shoot, if you will.

TIGHT:

ANGLE - ALBRECHT

He gives it up. Can't shoot. This is too weird for

him.

ALBRECHT:

Are you nuts, walking into a gun?

NEW ANGLE - LESS

THREATENING - ERIC AND ALBRECHT

ERIC:

You must listen carefully: the

Fire Department will be here soon.

There is an injured man in the

alley who needs assistance.

(meaningfully)

As Shelly Webster once

needed your

assistance, and as you are shortly

going to need my

assistance.

Albrecht gestures casually, almost comically, with his

pointed

gun. B.g., the crow lands on a fire escape to monitor them.

ALBRECHT:

You wanna run that back for me one

time?

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