Saint Fawkes
10-31-2007, 07:00 PM
If you recall, when I first joined I said that I mostly wrote scripts. Finally, I have lived up to that claim.
This is a short dramedy type-thing. It has some minor swearing and a crapload of shooting.
Formalities aside, continue on to part one of The Cleaners, complete with pretentious Roman numeral!
___________________________________________
Black screen.
GARY (V.O.): It’s never easy, ya know? It’s never easy.
Sound of a gun being loaded.
GARY (V.O.): Never. It never goes according to plan.
A laser sight comes on, illuminating the darkness enough to show the tip of a handgun barrel.
GARY (V.O.): Never once since Tucker and I got into this business has it gone according to plan.
The laser sight switches off again, and we hear footsteps moving farther away.
GARY (V.O.): Hell, after a point you just sorta stop trying.
Cut to: a door with a in an empty hallway with a men’s room sign on it. Gary Church is leaning on the wall by the door with his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed over his chest, waiting impatiently. He wears tuxedo, and he wears it well. His jet black hair is slicked back across his head. He’s decent looking, but in a plain, forgettable sort of way.
GARY (V.O.): To make the plans work, I mean.
The men’s room door opens, and Tucker O’Malley comes out. He wears a tux too, but he’s obviously not the fancy party type; his jacket is very loose and sloppy, and his bow tie is in his jacket pocket; he seems to have given up on it. He a bit taller than Gary, and much less sophisticated looking. His brown hair is curly and uncombed, and a slightly-later-than-five o’clock shadow adorns his jaw. He carries a long suitcase.
GARY: You ready to go?
TUCKER (grinning): Like you read about.
Gary sighs, obviously not content.
GARY: Okay, let’s go.
GARY (V.O.): You just sorta go with it.
The two of them leave the hallway with the bathroom in it and enter a crowded ball room.
TUCKER: Ya know somethin’, Gary?
GARY (annoyed): I actually know a few things, Tucker.
TUCKER: I hate places like this. How come we never get sent to smelly back alleys anymore?
GARY: Because we asked to stop being sent to smelly back alleys, remember?
As they talk, the two of them are heading toward the grand staircase at the back of the room.
TUCKER: Well yeah, but that was before I knew that leaving the smelly back alleys would mean we’d have to spend our weekends hanging around a bunch of guys who think they crap gold.
Gary rolls his eyes, disgusted.
GARY: Jesus Christ, would you at least try to pretend to be sophisticated?
TUCKER: Look, at least the guys in the smelly back alleys don’t get all sobby as soon as they see us. They’re in smelly back alleys, how much worse can their life get?
They reach the stairs on that note and start up toward the second floor, which is just as crowded.
The second floor is really more of a balcony that overlooks the first floor, but there’s large set of wooden double doors on the north wall of the second floor.
TUCKER: But these guys, I mean, damn! You hold up a fist and their ready to trade away their wife and kids. When did criminals get respectable?
GARY: Shut up.
TUCKER: No, seriously—
GARY: No, seriously, shut up. We’re here.
They’ve reached the top of the stairs and are facing the double doors. They glance briefly at each other and head through. There’s a pair of Secret Service-looking security guards (black suits, shades, wires, the works) on either side of the hallway. They start toward Gary and Tucker as the doors fall shut behind them.
1ST GUARD: Gentlemen, I’m going to have to ask you to—
Gary hits 1st Guard in the neck with the side of his hand, grabs his head, and slams his knee into his face. Tucker drops 2nd Guard with less subtly; he palms the man’s head and clubs it against the wall.
The two of them glance at each other again and then continue forward to the end of the hall, where there’s another set of double doors. Gary checks his watch and they speed up slightly.
Cut to: BOSSMAN’S OFFICE. The Bossman’s office has four more security guards in it, all holding Uzis. There’s a big window at the rear of the room. The Bossman himself is an incredibly obese man with blond hair, wearing a suit that doesn’t quite fit him. He’s on the phone, yelling in Spanish. The doors slam open.
Worms eye view as Tucker and Gary come in, both holding guns. Gary holds a GLOCK 17 handgun, silenced; Tucker, on the other hand, has an AMT AutoMag V with a laser sight below the barrel. The AutoMag is huge; the barrel is nearly a foot long, but Tucker seems able to wield it just fine in one hand. The two of them spray bullets indiscriminately until both their guns are empty. They quickly reload their guns and head toward the window at the far end of the room. As they walk on either side of the desk – Tucker going right, Gary going left – we can see that everyone in the room is dead. The four guards are on the floor and the Bossman is slumped in his chair.
Tucker sets his suitcase on the desk and opens it, removing a long sniper rifle. He smashes the butt of the rifle through the window and looks out.
Cut to: Tucker’s POV through the scope. As he zooms in, we see what this party is about: there’s a wedding reception going on in the backyard. Tucker is setting up a shot on the groom’s head.
Cut to: side shot of Tucker aiming out the window. Gary is next to him, watching with binoculars.
TUCKER: I’ve got a shot.
GARY: Wait till they say the vows.
TUCKER: Is the altar wired?
GARY: No.
Tucker looks away from the scope to stare at Gary.
TUCKER (patronizingly): Then how will we know when they say the vows?
GARY: He’ll kiss her, dumbass.
Pause.
TUCKER: Oh. Yeah.
Cut to: the altar. The priest is going over the vows almost mechanically; he’s obviously done this many times before.
PRIEST: …‘til death do you part?
The groom has a passing resemblance to the Bossman, though he’s much better looking.
BRIDE: I do.
PRIEST: You may kiss the bride.
Cut to: Tucker’s POV through scope, watching the groom kiss the bride. His crosshair is on the groom’s temple.
TUCKER: They’re done.
GARY: Hold on, wait for—
Cut to: side shot of Tucker aiming out the window while Gary watches through the binoculars. Gary winces as Tucker fires. The gunshot echoes around the huge yard. Far away, the bride screams in horror.
GARY: Man, that’s just wrong.
Tucker glances irritatedly at Gary.
TUCKER: What’re you, my mother?
Gary sighs resignedly as Tucker loads his rifle into the suitcase and closes it up.
GARY: Let’s go.
The two men head out of the Bossman’s office. As they walk down the hall, 2nd Guard is starting to wake up. Tucker absent mindedly steps on his face as they pass. They holster their guns (that’s why Tucker’s jacket is so loose; so that he can carry his huge pistol without it being visible) and open the doors, heading back down the stairs into the party, which is clearing out very quickly. They stop at the last step, glance over the panicked crowd, look at each other, Tucker smiles.
GARY (V.O.): Someone once said improvisation is the spice of life.
TUCKER (screaming exaggeratedly): OH GOD WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!
He runs through the crowd, screaming nonsensically as he shoves toward the main door. Gary rolls his eyes and follows in Tucker’s wake.
GARY (V.O.): If I ever meet that jackass I’m gonna shoot him in the face.
Cut to: long shot of the parking lot (NIGHT) outside the MANSION everybody is running out of; the Bossman, apparently, is pretty well off. Tucker is laughing as he and Gary climb into their rental car, Tucker driving. He backs quickly out of their parking spot and turns the car.
TUCKER (O.S., still chuckling): Oh man…
GARY (O.S., exasperated): You are a sick, sick man.
The car drives away. The screen fades to black as the noise of the engine fades in the distance.
___________________________________________
That's not the end, I'll post the next part soon enough.
This is a short dramedy type-thing. It has some minor swearing and a crapload of shooting.
Formalities aside, continue on to part one of The Cleaners, complete with pretentious Roman numeral!
___________________________________________
Black screen.
GARY (V.O.): It’s never easy, ya know? It’s never easy.
Sound of a gun being loaded.
GARY (V.O.): Never. It never goes according to plan.
A laser sight comes on, illuminating the darkness enough to show the tip of a handgun barrel.
GARY (V.O.): Never once since Tucker and I got into this business has it gone according to plan.
The laser sight switches off again, and we hear footsteps moving farther away.
GARY (V.O.): Hell, after a point you just sorta stop trying.
Cut to: a door with a in an empty hallway with a men’s room sign on it. Gary Church is leaning on the wall by the door with his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed over his chest, waiting impatiently. He wears tuxedo, and he wears it well. His jet black hair is slicked back across his head. He’s decent looking, but in a plain, forgettable sort of way.
GARY (V.O.): To make the plans work, I mean.
The men’s room door opens, and Tucker O’Malley comes out. He wears a tux too, but he’s obviously not the fancy party type; his jacket is very loose and sloppy, and his bow tie is in his jacket pocket; he seems to have given up on it. He a bit taller than Gary, and much less sophisticated looking. His brown hair is curly and uncombed, and a slightly-later-than-five o’clock shadow adorns his jaw. He carries a long suitcase.
GARY: You ready to go?
TUCKER (grinning): Like you read about.
Gary sighs, obviously not content.
GARY: Okay, let’s go.
GARY (V.O.): You just sorta go with it.
The two of them leave the hallway with the bathroom in it and enter a crowded ball room.
TUCKER: Ya know somethin’, Gary?
GARY (annoyed): I actually know a few things, Tucker.
TUCKER: I hate places like this. How come we never get sent to smelly back alleys anymore?
GARY: Because we asked to stop being sent to smelly back alleys, remember?
As they talk, the two of them are heading toward the grand staircase at the back of the room.
TUCKER: Well yeah, but that was before I knew that leaving the smelly back alleys would mean we’d have to spend our weekends hanging around a bunch of guys who think they crap gold.
Gary rolls his eyes, disgusted.
GARY: Jesus Christ, would you at least try to pretend to be sophisticated?
TUCKER: Look, at least the guys in the smelly back alleys don’t get all sobby as soon as they see us. They’re in smelly back alleys, how much worse can their life get?
They reach the stairs on that note and start up toward the second floor, which is just as crowded.
The second floor is really more of a balcony that overlooks the first floor, but there’s large set of wooden double doors on the north wall of the second floor.
TUCKER: But these guys, I mean, damn! You hold up a fist and their ready to trade away their wife and kids. When did criminals get respectable?
GARY: Shut up.
TUCKER: No, seriously—
GARY: No, seriously, shut up. We’re here.
They’ve reached the top of the stairs and are facing the double doors. They glance briefly at each other and head through. There’s a pair of Secret Service-looking security guards (black suits, shades, wires, the works) on either side of the hallway. They start toward Gary and Tucker as the doors fall shut behind them.
1ST GUARD: Gentlemen, I’m going to have to ask you to—
Gary hits 1st Guard in the neck with the side of his hand, grabs his head, and slams his knee into his face. Tucker drops 2nd Guard with less subtly; he palms the man’s head and clubs it against the wall.
The two of them glance at each other again and then continue forward to the end of the hall, where there’s another set of double doors. Gary checks his watch and they speed up slightly.
Cut to: BOSSMAN’S OFFICE. The Bossman’s office has four more security guards in it, all holding Uzis. There’s a big window at the rear of the room. The Bossman himself is an incredibly obese man with blond hair, wearing a suit that doesn’t quite fit him. He’s on the phone, yelling in Spanish. The doors slam open.
Worms eye view as Tucker and Gary come in, both holding guns. Gary holds a GLOCK 17 handgun, silenced; Tucker, on the other hand, has an AMT AutoMag V with a laser sight below the barrel. The AutoMag is huge; the barrel is nearly a foot long, but Tucker seems able to wield it just fine in one hand. The two of them spray bullets indiscriminately until both their guns are empty. They quickly reload their guns and head toward the window at the far end of the room. As they walk on either side of the desk – Tucker going right, Gary going left – we can see that everyone in the room is dead. The four guards are on the floor and the Bossman is slumped in his chair.
Tucker sets his suitcase on the desk and opens it, removing a long sniper rifle. He smashes the butt of the rifle through the window and looks out.
Cut to: Tucker’s POV through the scope. As he zooms in, we see what this party is about: there’s a wedding reception going on in the backyard. Tucker is setting up a shot on the groom’s head.
Cut to: side shot of Tucker aiming out the window. Gary is next to him, watching with binoculars.
TUCKER: I’ve got a shot.
GARY: Wait till they say the vows.
TUCKER: Is the altar wired?
GARY: No.
Tucker looks away from the scope to stare at Gary.
TUCKER (patronizingly): Then how will we know when they say the vows?
GARY: He’ll kiss her, dumbass.
Pause.
TUCKER: Oh. Yeah.
Cut to: the altar. The priest is going over the vows almost mechanically; he’s obviously done this many times before.
PRIEST: …‘til death do you part?
The groom has a passing resemblance to the Bossman, though he’s much better looking.
BRIDE: I do.
PRIEST: You may kiss the bride.
Cut to: Tucker’s POV through scope, watching the groom kiss the bride. His crosshair is on the groom’s temple.
TUCKER: They’re done.
GARY: Hold on, wait for—
Cut to: side shot of Tucker aiming out the window while Gary watches through the binoculars. Gary winces as Tucker fires. The gunshot echoes around the huge yard. Far away, the bride screams in horror.
GARY: Man, that’s just wrong.
Tucker glances irritatedly at Gary.
TUCKER: What’re you, my mother?
Gary sighs resignedly as Tucker loads his rifle into the suitcase and closes it up.
GARY: Let’s go.
The two men head out of the Bossman’s office. As they walk down the hall, 2nd Guard is starting to wake up. Tucker absent mindedly steps on his face as they pass. They holster their guns (that’s why Tucker’s jacket is so loose; so that he can carry his huge pistol without it being visible) and open the doors, heading back down the stairs into the party, which is clearing out very quickly. They stop at the last step, glance over the panicked crowd, look at each other, Tucker smiles.
GARY (V.O.): Someone once said improvisation is the spice of life.
TUCKER (screaming exaggeratedly): OH GOD WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!
He runs through the crowd, screaming nonsensically as he shoves toward the main door. Gary rolls his eyes and follows in Tucker’s wake.
GARY (V.O.): If I ever meet that jackass I’m gonna shoot him in the face.
Cut to: long shot of the parking lot (NIGHT) outside the MANSION everybody is running out of; the Bossman, apparently, is pretty well off. Tucker is laughing as he and Gary climb into their rental car, Tucker driving. He backs quickly out of their parking spot and turns the car.
TUCKER (O.S., still chuckling): Oh man…
GARY (O.S., exasperated): You are a sick, sick man.
The car drives away. The screen fades to black as the noise of the engine fades in the distance.
___________________________________________
That's not the end, I'll post the next part soon enough.