Wild Wild West Page #4

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ARTEMUS:

And it's not a fiddle, it's a

violin.

Jim angrily tosses luggage aside, scrambles to his feet

and sprints down the crowded platform -- but he'll never

catch the train.

As he slows angrily to a stop, he HEARS:

INVENTOR (O.S.)

Throttle, you damnable idiot!

More throttle!

The inventor is still browbeating his assistant as he

shows him how to operate the ROARING Nitro-Cycle.

INVENTOR:

Oh, get off, you useless nitwit!

Let me do it!

The inventor shoves the hapless man off the vehicle and

starts to climb on himself. But Jim rushes over.

JIM:

Excuse me. I need this.

And he leaps onto the machine.

INVENTOR:

What? Get off, sir! This is the

Nitro-Cycle! The only one of its

kind!

Jim fiddles with the controls.

JIM:

Is this how you do it?!

Jim twists the throttle and -- VAROOOM! Up the ramp he

sails! Right into the freight car. There's a brief pause.

Then the Nitro-Cycle blasts back out and takes off up the

platform. All the inventor can do is SCREAM:

INVENTOR:

Unhand my machine, you brigand!!

Jim wildly rockets along, managing just barely to steer

the amazingly fast machine around the startled, terrified

PEOPLE who gape at the incomprehensible contrivance ROARING

through their midst!

Jim tests the throttle and cranks it all the way open!

The Nitro-Cycle does a wheelie as FLAMES jet out its

exhaust!

He heads for the end of the platform -- a four foot drop!

He hangs on tight and goes airborne! The Nitro-Cycle

slams down, gravel flying, wobbling wildly. But he's

able to get it back under control.

EXT. RAILROAD YARD - DAY

With his eye on the Wanderer, Jim streaks down the tracks

leaving a cloud of blue smoke. The engine SCREAMS, way

overcranked.

INT. THE WANDERER - PARLOUR CAR - MOVING - DAY

Artemus, at his lab table, works on an invention -- a

derringer concealed in an ornate belt buckle. He hears

the peculiar ROAR of the Nitro-Cycle and glances outside.

ANGLE - ARTEMUS' P.O.V. OUT WINDOW

Suddenly Jim appears outside, zooming along on the

inexplicable contraption, keeping pace with the train!

He shoots Artemus a look -- "You're mine, buddy!"

EXT. THE WANDERER - OBSERVATION DECK - DAY

Jim's racing alongside the parlour car. He pulls his

feet up onto the seat. Then leaps across to the

observation deck, landing gracefully.

The Nitro-Cycle careens off and crashes into a field.

With a satisfied flourish, Jim yanks open the door to

find --

Artemus standing there with a big smile, offering a glass

of Chateau Margaux '68.

ARTEMUS:

Mr. West, I have underestimated

you.

Jim, out of breath, fixes him with a cool stare.

JIM:

A common mistake, Mr. Gordon.

He decides to accept the peace offering. Jim takes the

wine and leans close, deadly serious:

JIM:

But don't pull that again.

ARTEMUS:

Wouldn't dream of it.

EXT. EASTERN COUNTRYSIDE - THE WANDERER

THUNDERS across the bucolic farmland.

INT. THE WANDERER - PARLOUR CAR - MOVING - DAY

Jim is unpacking his few belongings. Artemus smokes a

cigar as he studies the files on the dead scientists.

ARTEMUS:

Eight scientists. Eight different

fields of endeavor. Hydraulics,

optics, ballistics...

JIM:

Put them all together and what do

we have?

ARTEMUS:

(speculating)

A giant... hydraulically operated

microscope... that explodes?

(shrugs)

Or maybe just someone who hates

scientists.

JIM:

Then why kidnap them? Why not

just kill them?

ARTEMUS:

"Ay, there's the rub." Take a

look at this file on Professor

Morton. Quite a brilliant fellow...

metallurgy.

But as Artemus hands the file to Jim -- CLICK -- a

concealed derringer springs out of his sleeve aimed right

at Jim. Artemus, embarrassed, quickly slides it back up

his sleeve and apologizes.

ARTEMUS:

Sorry. Didn't mean that. Just a

little device of mine...

JIM:

Wait a minute. Now I know where

I've heard of you. You're the

gadget guy.

ARTEMUS:

(indignant)

"Gadget guy?" While I may not be

in a league with these unfortunate

geniuses, I am, sir, in my own

humble way, a man of science.

Artemus proudly flings open a cabinet full of exotic

devices and weapons.

ARTEMUS:

My inventions... An arsenal for

fighting crime.

He pulls out a vest adorned with metal buttons.

ARTEMUS:

Attractive buttons, yes? But yank

one off, toss it, and poof! It

emits a cloud of sleeping gas.

JIM:

You need that real often?

ARTEMUS:

Always hoping.

(grabs another device)

Or this...

JIM:

No offense, but all I ever need...

(holds up his fists)

Are these...

(draws his gun)

And this.

ARTEMUS:

Good Lord, man. The world is

changing. And mark me, it is always

the criminal mind that is the first

to exploit modern invention. We,

as defenders of the right, must

keep pace!

JIM:

All right, if it'll make you happy,

I'll try that.

ARTEMUS:

Try what?

Jim indicates Artemus' sleeve-gun.

JIM:

Your little jack-in-the-box gun.

That might be useful.

ARTEMUS:

(hesitant)

Well... it's the only one I have.

It's gotten me out of quite a few

tight spots...

Then he gets an idea and hands Jim the belt buckle he was

working on.

ARTEMUS:

But here! It's yours. My latest

concept.

Jim is dubious, but takes the thing.

ARTEMUS:

Now slap the buckle like this.

He demonstrates. Jim tries it -- SPROING! A derringer

pops out, wiggles on its mount -- and promptly falls off,

CLATTERING to the floor.

JIM:

That should put us ahead of the

criminals.

ARTEMUS:

I'll work on it.

EXT. PROFESSOR MORTON'S LABORATORY - NIGHT

The remote laboratory sits beside a cornfield. A moving

lantern shines through the darkness carried by an old

WATCHMAN leading Jim and Artemus to the gate.

WATCHMAN:

That's the place. Professor

Morton's laboratory. Ever since

he went missing, I've kept it locked

up tight.

A single LIGHT goes on in the dark building.

JIM:

So, who's in there now?

INT. PROFESSOR MORTON'S LABORATORY - NIGHT

The door swings open and Jim and Artemus step into the

dimly-lit lab. Behind a lab table covered with a jumble

of equipment they spot someone moving about. Whoever he

is, he's MUTTERING crazily to himself.

They draw their guns and ease around the table to find --

a wild-eyed, unshaven man in filthy clothes squatting on

the floor. This is PROFESSOR THADDEUS MORTON. His shirt

is ripped open. Tools are scattered around him. He's

desperately trying to pry open a strange-looking metal

belt locked around his waist.

ARTEMUS:

Excuse me...

Morton looks up in terror and dives under the table.

MORTON:

No! No!

He scampers on all-fours out the other side of the table,

heading for the door. He runs into the watchman.

WATCHMAN:

Professor!

MORTON:

Help me! Help me! They're after

me again! They're after me!

Jim and Artemus glance at each other -- this is the

Professor?

JIM:

Professor Morton. We're here to

help you. We're Federal agents.

WATCHMAN:

The God's truth, Professor.

The wild-eyed Professor still isn't sure.

MORTON:

Badges! Badges!

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