X-Men Page #4

EXT. CABIN IN THE SNOW COVERED WILDERNESS - DAY

Smoke curling from the chimney, warm light emanating from

the window.

A well-worn pick-up truck parked axles deep in the snow,

the back filled with a cord of cut wood. A hand painted

scrawl on the door reads:

Firewood for Sales

A slope, just behind the cabin leading to a frozen lake.

PUSH IN SLOWLY TOWARDS THE CABIN. Ten beers sit cooling

in the snow outside the door. We hear LED ZEPPELINíS

ìBLACK DOG.î

INT. CABIN - DAY

Music thunders, quite a contrast to the surroundings. A

cosy little abode, showing signs of neglect, as though

decorated with a gentler touch that passed not too long

ago.

A large shelf replete with books. An electric mix from

Sun Tsuís The Art of War to Mark Twainís The Adventures

of Huckleberry Finn.

A fire burns in the fireplace. On the mantle sit a few

old black and white photos of a slightly younger Logan

posing with a group of HARD-CASE MILITARY TYPES in a

heavily wooded area. We can not tell if they are true

Military or simply mercenaries.

In the wall above the mantle, a sketch of a beautiful

woman.

And finally we come to the occupant of the house, sitting

at the only table in the center of the room. His back is

to us. His hair is coarse and black, sprouting wildly

from his head. He is LOGAN. We will come to know him

well. As well as we can.

Despite the loud, pounding music, he is working with the

meticulousness of a watch maker. At the same time, he

smokes a thick cigar. A tall bottle of beer on the floor

next to his chair. A SINGLE, SILVER DOG TAG hangs from

his neck from a battered chain. As we get closer, we

look over his shoulder and see what he is working on so

intensely.

Pencil rubs against paper furiously. He is sketching,

what we cannot see. But he is definitely caught up in

his own minds eye.

HIS HEAD SUDDENLY TURNS. He listens to something we

cannot begin to hear. A momentary pause, and he goes

back to sketching.

Just as he seems to be settling back into the details

again.

WHACK:

He reaches over and shuts off the music coming from the

box beside him. He listens.

He stands, turning around slowly in a circle. He drops

the sketch pad on the chair.

Only the crackle of logs in the fire.

LOGANíS P.O.V.

We follow his gaze around the room. Past the fire which

sounds suddenly like a blazing inferno, past the clock

which ticks as loud as clapping hands, past the simmering

tea-kettle which hisses like a seething cauldron.

Finally, he glances at the cigar which we hear crackling

nearly as loud as the fire.

Loganís senses are amplified many times more then ours,

he walks to the door.

E.C.U.

His nostrils flare.

He raises his fist beside his face. For a moment, it

seems as if he is just chinking. Then -- SHOOK - THREE

STEELY CLAWS some nine inches long, emerge inexplicably

from the skin just above Loganís knuckles.

Logan barley turns his head before.

BOOM:

THE WINDOW EXPLODES, letting in freezing wind and

billowing snow.

Logan is hit from behind.

The attack is so ferocious that we are unable to make out

the attacker. Whatever it is, it is HUGE. We can hear

it snarling and see flashes of its claws as it slams

Logan back.

EXT. CABIN - DAY

The front door SMASHES OPEN. The two combatants roll

madly down the hill obscured by flying snow.

Finally, we see Logan separate from his attacker and

CRASH THROUGH THE ICE of the frozen lake.

E.C.U. - A MASSIVE CLAW-LIKE HAND lifts into frame the

SHINING DOG TAG hanging from it. The tagís chain slides

off and too the ground.

UNDER ICE:

Logan struggles, already short of breath.

As he struggles -- water starts to fill his lungs. His

skin goes pale. He is drowning.

EXT. ABOVE ICE - DAY

We hear an angry grunt as the thing starts to hunt for

Logan. It stalks across the ice, searching. We catch a

glimpse of shoulder, a CLAWED FOOT, a MANE OF HAIR.

UNDER ICE:

Loganís struggle has decreased somewhat as his strength

wanes.

CRACK:

The ice above Logan shatters as a clawed hand reaches

through.

EXT. ABOVE ICE - DAY

A violent YANK. The ice gives way to the soaked and half-

frozen Logan.

The creature picks Logan up by his face, CUTTING DEEPLY

into his cheek, and holds him up like a rag doll. The

two are face to face. This is called SABRETOOTH. The

reasons are obvious.

Teeth like said animal and catís eyes to match.

A mutant, certainly a member of a class remote in the

extreme.

And then it speaks.

SABRETOOTH:

Itís not gonna be that easy.

Logan, half-drowned, opens his eyes and looks right at

Sabretooth as though heís going to say something.

Instead, a LUNG-FULL OF WATER comes shooting out.

With that, Sabretooth ROARS, as he hoists Logan up and

throws him. Logan flies nearly ten yards. He lands head

first.

Sabretooth skulks over to him.

With the sound of Sabretoothís breathing comes the rising

of the wind...

Snow from the ground begins to swirl in the bitter cold

air.

Sabretooth is nearly upon Logan now and the wind rises

further, until he must shield his eyes from the bitter

icy air.

As he approaches, we see a fresh cut on Loganís face

HEALING BEFORE OUR VERY EYES, leaving not so much as a

scratch.

THEN:

A SUDDEN FLASH OF LIGHT

Lightning. No. Lightning is not red.

Sabretooth looks around, puzzled, then down at Loganís

motionless body. Then to his feet where a hole in the

ice sprouts bubbling water.

The wind blows so violently now that he nearly misses two

figures standing only a few yards away - mere silhouettes

in the icy haze.

A closer look tells us it is a man and a woman, THEY WEAR

STRANGE UNIFORMS of form-fitting material - the man wears

a reflective visor that hides his eyes. The womanís face

is care revealing dark skin, penetrating eyes and unusual

white hair.

ANOTHER FLASH - one that seems to come from the manís

visor itself. An intense beam of red light.

Sabretooth looks down and sees the ice at his feet has

broken away.

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