The Game Page #13

It's the HARLEQUIN in the chair, with a GLOSSY B+W PHOTO

between its teeth. Nicholas pulls out the picture...

A POLICE PHOTO of NICHOLAS' FATHER, his body sprawled.

It's stamped "PROPERTY SFPD" in red.

There's a NOTE papere-clipped behind:

"Like my father before me, I choose eternal sleep." At the

bottom, a RED SIGNATURE ARROW affixed, "Please Sign Here."

Suddenly, ALL LIGHTS SURGE TO LIFE, icy and ghoulish -- each

and every bulb replaced by BLACK LIGHT...

Nicholas pivots slowly, taking in the horror...

The wrecked den is covered in FLUORESCENT SPRAY-PAINT

GRAFFITI:
"WELCOME HOME" "F*** YOU" "NICHOLAS VAN

COCKSUCKER" "SUCK IT" "C.R.S. RULES" "HAVING FUN, RICH

BOY?" Everywhere. Across windows, paintings and curtains.

The ceiling is covered in "MOMMA'S BOY" and OBSCENITIES.

Scaffolding's been left behind. Used SPRAY CANS on the

splattered Oriental rug. A PAINT/AIR COMPRESSOR.

NICHOLAS:

... f***ers...

INT. VAN ORTON MANSION, MASTER BEDROOM -- NIGHT

A glowing ANARCHY SYMBOL sprayed across the door which is

throw open by Nicholas as he enters.

It's all BLACK LIT here too. GRAFFITIED and DESTROYED.

"HELTER SKELTER: in jolting letters. Nicholas backs out...

INT. VAN ORTON MANSION, VARIOUS ROOMS -- NIGHT

FOLLOW:
Nicholas down the hall and around corners, BLACK

LIGHTS above, walls covered in CURSES and MULTI-COLORED

SQUIGGLES. Like a bad trip thru the Bat-Cave...

DOWN STAIRS:

Past OTHER ROOMS likewise awash in vibrant slurs...

THRU THE KITCHEN

Now also revealed as ruined. Nicholas goes out the door...

EXT. VAN ORTON MANSION, BACKYARD -- NIGHT

Nicholas runs to the GUEST HOUSE.

INT. VAN ORTON GUEST HOUSE, FOYER -- NIGHT

BANGING on the FRONT DOOR. Ilsa comes to look thru the

peephole, opens the door to a breathless Nicholas.

ILSA:

Mr. Van Orton... ?

NICHOLAS:

Ilsa... you're alright?

ILSA:

Yes. What do you mean? What's wrong?

NICHOLAS:

Did the alarm go off? The house...

they... you didn't see... ?

ILSA:

I don't know what you're talking

about. What's happened?

NICHOLAS:

There's been a break in. Lock this

door and stay here. Don't move a

muscle.

Nicholas runs back toward the house.

ILSA:

Be careful!

EXT. VAN ORTON MANSION, BACKYARD -- NIGHT

Crossing the lawn, Nicholas pulls out his cellular phone,

dialing as he runs, takes out his gun.

911 OPERATOR (v.o.)

(from cellular)

Nine-one-one, emergency...

NICHOLAS:

(into cellular)

I need the police. There's been a

break-in at my home...

911 OPERATOR (v.o.)

(from cellular)

Okay, sir. Stay on the line and give

me your address...

INT. VAN ORTON MANSION, KITCHEN -- NIGHT

Nicholas enters, still on the phone, locking the door,

beginning to punch the security code into the ALARM KEYPAD.

NICHOLAS:

(into cellular)

Twenty-two Moore Street. At the

corner of Moore and Buchanan.

911 OPERATOR (v.o.)

Now, sir, you said it was a

break-in...

NICHOLAS:

Yes...

911 OPERATOR (v.o.)

Are you sure they're gone... ?

As Nicholas finishes the security code, the KEYPAD BEEPS,

and Nicholas straightens, worried.

911 OPERATOR (v.o.)

... are you sure there's not still

someone somewhere in the house?

NICHOLAS:

I... don't think so.

And with the DYING HUMMMMMMMM of POWER FAILING, all the

BLACK LIGHTS GO OUT. Nicholas raises his gun...

NICHOLAS:

Oh God...

Pointing it into the dark kitchen, hand trembling.

911 OPERATOR (v.o.)

Hello? Are you still there?

Behind, a DARK FIGURE outside rises against the kitchen door

window, POUNDING FRANTICALLY! Nicholas leaps and spins,

CRYING OUT in terror, dropoping the gun...

The gun bounces across the linoleum.

It's CONRAD at the kitchen door, haggard and scared, his

pale face pressed against the glass, pointing frantically.

CONRAD:

Meet me out front!

Conrad ducks away, moving on.

CUT TO:

EXT. CITY STREETS -- NIGHT

The Bentley takes a corner fast, heading downhill, moving

from residential to mostly urban...

INSIDE THE BENTLEY

Nicholas drives. Conrad looks back over his shoulder, a man

on the run, dark circles under his eyes.

NICHOLAS:

Tell me where we're going.

CONRAD:

Just drive, man.

(slumps low)

It's f***ing nuts!

NICHOLAS:

What's this all about, Connie?

CONRAD:

Shhhhhhh. Wait... wait...

Conrad flips the sunshade, looks behind it, feels the fabric

of the roof and the seam of the door.

He grips the interior LIGHT, breaks it open, pulling the

bulb and wires.

NICHOLAS:

What are you doing?

CONRAD:

They're methodical. They're nothing

if they're not that.

NICHOLAS:

Who?

CONRAD:

C.R.S. Who do you think? Jesus H.,

thank your lucky charms. To think

what I almost got you into.

NICHOLAS:

(miserable)

Yeah, almost...

CONRAD:

You dodged a bullet.

NICHOLAS:

How do you mean, exactly?

CONRAD:

They f*** you and they f*** you and

they f*** you. And then, just when

you think it's done, that's when

the real f***ing begins.

NICHOLAS:

Slow down, take a breath...

CONRAD:

It doesn't stop, Nick. I paid the

bill, I gave 'em their money, but it

all started again. They won't leave

me alone...

NICHOLAS:

What have they been doing to you?

CONRAD:

Everything. I'm a goddamn

human-pinata...

NICHOLAS:

Calm down. Why would they keep

playing after you paid?

CONRAD:

You think I know? I paid them more

to make it stop.

BOOM! -- the wheel jerks in Nicholas' hand, TIRES SCREAM...

CONRAD:

What the hell... !?

ON THE STREET:

A TIRE'S BLOWN OUT. Riding the rim, the car jerks over...

INSIDE THE BENTLEY

Nicholas stops at the curb. Conrad's turned in his seat.

CONRAD:

It's them. They did this.

NICHOLAS:

It's a flat tire. That's all.

CONRAD:

How do you know?

NICHOLAS:

We're going to figure this out. Get

a grip on yourself.

CONRAD:

Okay... okay.

Conrad faces forward. Nicholas gets out to look at the

wheel, using his cellular, then returns to the open window.

NICHOLAS:

The phone's dead.

CONRAD:

Really?

NICHOLAS:

Do you know how to change a tire?

CONRAD:

No. Do you?

(off Nicholas' frown)

Can't be too hard, can it? I don't

think we should be here out in the

open like this.

Nicholas rubs his temples, looks all around, frustrated.

NICHOLAS:

Check the glove box... might be

another battery there.

Conrad OPENS the glove compartment: KEYS SPILL OUT. At

least fifty, silver and gold, all stamped "C.R.S."

Conrad's breath catches in his throat. He looks to

Nicholas, afraid. Nicholas leans closer...

NICHOLAS:

How did those... ?

CONRAD:

You're part of it...

NICHOLAS:

What? Connie...

Conrad climbs out, pointing across the roof of the car...

CONRAD:

No! You're one of them. Of course,

it makes perfect sense!

NICHOLAS:

No, it doesn't! Those keys were put

there. I didn't even know...

CONRAD:

You're behind this, aren't you? You

and your sick friends. Well, make it

stop!

NICHOLAS:

Listen to yourself. Why would I do

anything like what you're describing?

CONRAD:

Because you hate me. Because you had

to be here, when mom died. Because

you had to do it alone.

(near tears)

Well, don't you think if I'd known...

I'd've been here too. I'd have been

here...

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