Toxic Rage Page #3
- Year:
- 2023
- 249 Views
JILL:
(sighs deeply, voice trembling)
"We can't keep doing this, Bobby. These bills... it's just too much."
BOBBY:
(whispering, voice weak)
"I'm sorry, mom."
JILL:
"It's not your fault, sweetheart. We'll figure it out."
EXT. JILL'S PARENT'S HOUSE - MORNING
Joey stands beside his SUV, its interior cluttered with fast-food wrappers, a makeshift bed, and notes on Senator Grayson and RegalCorp. The cold morning air carries the sound of distant birds. Joey touches the lesions on his arm, pain evident in his eyes.
JILL:
(from the porch)
"Joey! Where are you going today?"
JOEY:
(forcing a smile)
"Job interviews. Don't worry. Things will change soon."
JILL:
"And at night?"
JOEY:
(pauses, then quietly)
"I... just need some time, Jill."
JILL:
(teary-eyed)
"Bobby needs you. I need you. You're staying in the SUV, aren't you?"
JOEY:
(looking away)
"I can't risk getting you sick. Not after everything."
INT. LIBRARY - AFTERNOON
Joey sits at a computer, scrolling through articles related to the train wreck. He comes across Senator Grayson’s ties with RegalCorp, a chill running down his spine. The dim lighting, combined with the soft hum of air conditioning and distant whispers, intensifies the tension.
INT. KITCHEN - EVENING
The aroma of chicken soup fills the air, a temporary relief from the constant stress. Jill's parents sit at the table, exchanging worried glances. Jill holds a medicine bottle, the bitter taste evident in her face.
JILL'S MOM
"You need to get him to tell you what he's doing, Jill."
JILL:
(frustrated)
"I've tried, mom! He's so... distant. But I trust him. He's doing it for us."
JILL'S DAD
"That train wreck... it's destroyed so many lives. Including Joey’s."
JILL:
"He’s just looking for answers."
EXT. INDUSTRIAL AREA - NIGHT
Joey, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, sneaks into a RegalCorp facility. The distant clang of metal and the scent of chemicals assaults his senses. He retrieves documents, photographs them, his heart pounding loudly.
INT. SUV - NIGHT
Joey sits in the dim light, examining the photographs. The taste of stale coffee from a thermos cup lingers on his lips. Suddenly, a bright light shines on his SUV. A loud knock makes him jump.
VOICE:
(menacing)
"Looking for something, Joey?"
JOEY:
(gulps)
"Justice."
Bobby lies on the bed, monitors beeping softly. Jill, eyes swollen, holds his hand. The sterile scent of the hospital is overpowering.
JILL:
"You'll get better, Bobby. We're fighting this."
BOBBY:
(softly)
"I know, mom. Where's dad?"
JILL:
(teary-eyed)
"Finding a way to make them pay."
A cozy atmosphere permeates the scene with the aroma of brewing coffee and fresh pastries. The murmurs of patrons, the clinking of cups, creates a soft backdrop.
JOEY, rugged and intense, sits across from GREG MIRANDA, a middle-aged journalist with a hardened edge—both men wear the subtle marks of past incarcerations. Joey's eyes burn with emotion; Greg's are sharp, analytical.
GREG:
So, let me get this straight. You, fresh out of prison,
contact an old friend, me—a journalist who served
time for protecting his sources. You want my help to
investigate Senator Grayson and RegalCorp Industries?
JOEY:
(jaw clenched)
That's right. Rumors are swirling, Greg. They say
they're using the recent disaster to snatch up land,
capitalizing on our town's desperation.
GREG:
Why should I believe these whispers? What's your
angle, Joey?
Joey inhales deeply, the scent of coffee pulling him momentarily into a memory.
JOEY:
You know my history, Greg. The hell I've been through.
I won't watch corrupt politicians and businesses rip
apart our town for their greed.
GREG:
(intense)
Talk to me about that past. Let me hear it from you.
JOEY:
(voice shaking)
Both my parents... lung cancer. Victims of tobacco.
The government—supposed guardians—let big tobacco
companies profit off their addiction, off their deaths.
GREG:
(softening)
So, it's personal. This fight.
JOEY:
(fierce)
Damn right. I won't let them tear our town apart,
erase our future, or silence our voices.
GREG:
(pausing, contemplative)
Alright. I get it, Joey. I'm with you. We'll dive in,
expose the truth. But understand, we're stepping
into deep waters.
JOEY:
(defiant smile)
Always been a swimmer, Greg, especially when the
stakes are high.
Their hands meet, sealing the pact. The weight of the mission palpable between them.
CUT TO:
INT. GREG'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Greg sits in front of a computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. Multiple monitors display financial records and emails. The room is dark, lit only by the glow of the screens. Joey sits adjacent to him, his eyes fixed on the monitor. Papers and coffee cups are strewn around the room.
GREG:
(Muttering)
I've got something.
JOEY:
(Leaning in, anxious)
What did you find?
GREG:
(Pauses, looking visibly angered yet vindicated)
RegalCorp owns vacant properties in the disaster area. They're exploiting the situation, just like you suspected.
JOEY:
(Pounding his fist softly on the table)
But it's not enough. We need hard evidence.
CUT TO:
INT. GREG'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Greg locks eyes with Joey, his fingers pausing over the keyboard.
GREG:
We need to get into their system. Find damning documents, emails, the works.
JOEY:
I know someone who can help us break in.
CUT TO:
EXT. REGALCORP BUILDING - NIGHT
Joey and Jason, a skilled hacker, stand near the entrance of the imposing RegalCorp building. The night is cold; both men are visibly on edge. They put on black gloves and pull out lock-picking tools.
JOEY:
Are you ready?
JASON:
Let's do this.
CUT TO:
INT. REGALCORP BUILDING, HALLWAY - NIGHT
Joey and Jason swiftly pick the lock to the front door and move inside. The soft glow of emergency exit signs fills the space. They move quickly and silently, avoiding security cameras. Jason pulls out a small device and deactivates the nearest camera.
JASON:
(Stopping near a door labeled 'Server Room')
This is it.
CUT TO:
INT. REGALCORP BUILDING, SERVER ROOM - NIGHT
Jason picks the lock to the server room and swings the door open. He sits at a computer inside. Joey stands guard near the door, visibly tense. Jason's fingers dance on the keyboard. A progress bar on the screen starts to fill.
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"Toxic Rage" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/toxic_rage_27258>.
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