The Monster Squad

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FADE IN:

EXT. SEATONVILLE HARBOR - NIGHT

The brackish waters of a modest commercial marina, with rows

of contract fishing and cargo trawlers hugging the concrete

strip of the waterfront and warehouse blocks. Fog hangs low

over the water. All's quiet on the night watch, save for the

dinging of buoys and slow churn of the tides.

INT. HARBORMASTER'S OFFICE

.

The cluttered office of the Harbormaster, manned by a single

operator:
a night watchman in his late fifties. Hokey

nautical memorabilia hugs the walls, a coffee pot brews, and

the watchman reads from a dog-eared paperback while seated

before several security monitors.

.

NIGHT WATCHMAN:

(singsong)

My father's a poor missionary… he

saves pretty women from sin…

The silhouette of a man moves across the monitors, unnoticed

by the sentry; pacing from one screen to the next, along the

perimeter fence.

NIGHT WATCHMAN:

(still singing)

… he'll save you a blonde for five

dollars… Lord, how the money rolls

in.

The sentry flips a page, not noticing as the intruder

nonchalantly LEAPS over the twelve-foot high fence without

missing a step, vanishing from the security cameras' view.

CUT TO:

2.

EXT. SEATONVILLE HARBOR

Leather dress shoes touch down on the corrugated steel roof

of a warehouse, as the intruder is revealed: CHARLES RUEGER,

somewhere in his forties, bespectacled, his expression

haunted. Dressed in a threadbare overcoat and the dirty,

ripped trappings of what was once a three-piece suit

underneath. He stoops into a crouch and checks his watch:

it's 11:
58.

INT. HARBORMASTER'S OFFICE

Click. An old digital clock atop the sentry's desk ticks over

to 11:
59. The night watchman stirs his coffee, setting the

mug down and returning to his reading. He flips another page,

glancing upward at a faint rattling sound; his expression

registers confusion as he realizes that it's the SPOON,

vibrating against the ceramic coffee cup.

EXT. SEATONVILLE HARBOR

Rueger stands, peering out into the foggy waters. From

somewhere in the distance, a low, throbbing HUM can be heard;

growing louder, coming closer.

.

INT. HARBORMASTER'S OFFICE

The sentry fishes around beneath piles of paperwork and

through the drawers of his desk, looking for the source of

the sound. Beyond the office's windows and over the quiet

sprawl of the marina, a hazy GLOW has appeared on the

horizon, buried in the fog and centered by two large red

lights. The sentry glances up, squinting outward.

EXT. SEATONVILLE HARBOR

Rueger stands at the harbor's edge, his body rigid with

tension. The ephemeral glow and steady thrumming sound slice

through the night air as the source emerges from the fog…

3.

INT. HARBORMASTER'S OFFICE

… the sentry sees it as Rueger does, his expression

contorting in horror. It's a MASSIVE MERCHANT FREIGHTER with

Cyrillic lettering on the bow. Flames flicker behind the

portholes and on the deck, its engines bellowing as it steams

ahead on a crash course with the docks. The sentry makes a

clumsy lunge for the phone, but it's too late.

EXT. SEATONVILLE HARBOR

A moment of deathly silence, and then: impact. Timbers

explode, smaller ships are scattered and capsized by the wake

churned out by the huge ship. It shanks into the concrete

waterfront, ripping through steel, bending the massive frame

of a loading crane as though it were made of matchsticks. The

echoes of the violent arrival taper off, as does the sounds

of breaking glass and falling metal. Once again, all is

quiet.

Rueger looks on in disbelief from his rooftop perch. He

moves; a series of cautious steps and superhuman agility, as

he leaps onto the broken neck of the crane and scales it to

the deck of the hulking ship.

EXT. SHIP'S DECK

The freighter's main deck has been shattered, unlashed cargo

and open flames everywhere. Rueger picks his way through the

debris, cautiously approaching the sprawled shape of a BODY.

He turns it over with his foot: the sailor's neck has been

torn open, the man's face contorted into an expression of

raw, frozen TERROR. As Rueger recoils slightly, a frantic

pair of hands abruptly SEIZES him. A survivor. The sailor

babbles in Russian, as Rueger struggles against him.

.

RUEGER:

Where is he?! For God's sake…

The man breaks away with a rough shove, knocking Rueger to

the ground and running for one of the open hatches to the

hold.

4.

The sailor staggers down the steps and into the murky

darkness. Rueger fights to his feet as the sound of panicked

screaming emerges from the stairwell; it peaks, and is cut

off sharply by a horrible gurgling sound.

Rueger's breathing quickens. Footsteps. From the smoke and

flames emerges a tall, elegant form: swarthy and lean,

dressed in an archaic ensemble of hooded cloak and a sleek,

military-style tunic and slacks. KAZIGLU BEY. His long black

hair pulled into an ornamental topknot, bloodied hands

adorned in exotic silver rings. His black eyes find Rueger

cowering amidst the devastation, and the gap between the men

is sheared in a single, predatory leap.

Bey's fingers close around Rueger's throat. Holding him in

place as his free hand tears Rueger's shirt open, revealing a

ragged mark carved into the skin there: a crude rendition of

a dragon wrapped around a crusader's cross. Bey releases his

grip, as Rueger shrinks back in fear.

KAZIGLU:

The Ruegermarka. You heed its call.

RUEGER:

As commanded… I'm Ch… Charles

Rueger.

KAZIGLU:

You know my face, Charles?

RUEGER:

I do.

KAZIGLU:

And you've prepared for my arrival.

RUEGER:

Yes, I h… have him. Somewhere safe.

The sound of approaching SIRENS can be heard in the distance.

Kaziglu moves to the lip of the ship's deck, taking in the

view of the city before him: sleepy lights, tucked into the

crescent of a Pacific Northwest mountain range. He smiles.

5.

RUEGER:

They're coming, Master… we should

go.

.

KAZIGLU:

Yes. For now.

The fog has begun to thin, revealing the devastated

waterfront. The full moon burns overhead.

CUT TO:

EXT. SEATONVILLE HIGHSCHOOL - DAY

Morning has risen over the laconic city's highschool: an

efficient, box-like brick and mortar structure, its lawn

carpeted in shed autumn leaves. In the distance, a plume of

thick smoke rips across the blue of the sky, the aftermath of

the waterfront carnage.

INT. SEATONVILLE HIGHSCHOOL - DAY

Two pairs of feet march quickly down an empty corridor:

modest blue pumps worn by a redheaded woman in her thirties,

MRS. GILMAN, and a pair of ratty black Converse sneakers worn

by LIAM CROSS, a sullen-faced boy of fourteen. Upon reaching

the principal's office, Mrs. Gilman indicates an empty SEAT

with a sharp gesture. Liam seats himself slouching.

Mrs. Gilman disappears into the office's main door. A beat.

When she emerges, it's with a worn-looking man with an

unkempt beard, a pie-bald-and-ponytail hairstyle, and a

flannel shirt... the school's resident guidance counselor,

MR. COMBS. He takes one look at Liam, and sighs.

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