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The Manchurian Candidate


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#1 Seph7

Seph7

    Co-founder & Long-time Liev Lover!

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Posted 21 October 2011 - 06:58 PM

THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE



By

Dean Georgaris



Based on the novel by Richard Condon and the screenplay by George Axelrod



Current revisions by Daniel Pyne, August 18, 2003



IN BLACK:

1 Restless bodies. Scuffing of feet. Somebody coughs.

MARCO'S VOICE

Approximately sixty four hundred hours before Desert Storm, we were on a routine recon inside Iraqi-controlled terrain, assessing troop strength for what Saddam Hussein promised to be the mother of all wars ... but turned out to be just a little warm up for the whomping he got a few years later.

FADE IN:



2 EXT. DESERT - NIGHT

PROWLING ACROSS undulating land dotted with BURNING OIL WELLS that give the vague impression of, well, hell. The inky sky is awash with stars.

ON THE CREST OF A DUNE

A U.S. ARMY BRADLEY FIGHTING VEHICLE and matching HUMMER sit, waiting.

KUWAIT, 1991

Muffled THUMP of rap music thrums from the Bradley, and low voices stray from the open doors of the Hummer.

MARCO (O.S.)

Why can't we go directly in ...

3 INT./EXT. THE HUMMER - NIGHT

A topographical MAP glows on the LCD screen of a laptop portable, faintly lighting the faces of CAPT. BEN MARCO and his big, gentle, French guide, LAURENT TOKAR.

MARCO

(pointing)

... this way --?

LAURENT

Yes, well -- I see the Captain enjoys the road less travelled.

Marco is seemingly unflappable, completely engaged by life.

MARCO

The Captain enjoys not dragging his ass down the highway for every Tom, Penis and Qadhafi to take a whack at.

Laurent swings his finger on the arc of approach.

LAURENT

Well. Of course it is very bad, here. And here. And here, here, here, here --

MARCO

Mines?

LAURENT

Tricky. Swedish-made.

MARCO

Dammit.

He refers to some satellite surveillance maps --

MARCO

Nobody at Command said anything about --

LAURENT

Exxon and Global Petroleum hired private contractors to do the work in '86, as part of their asset security program.

(beat)

Hired an Iraqi firm, in fact, who, now, well -- only they know where the little Nordic fuckers are planted.

MARCO

(turns away)

Sgt. Shaw!

No response.

And we RUSH TOWARD: A SOLDIER IN A LAWN CHAIR, face lifted to the heavens, sitting directly between the two armoured vehicles. This is SGT. RAYMOND PRENTISS SHAW, late twenties, haunted and aloof.

MARCO

(suddenly behind him)

Sergeant.

RAYMOND

Sir.

MARCO

Rolling in two minutes.

RAYMOND

Yes sir.

Beat.

MARCO

Everything okay?

RAYMOND

Yes, Captain. Everything's fine. Here.

(standing up)

I'll "rally" the troops.

4 INT. THE BRADLEY FIGHTING VEHICLE - NIGHT

MUSIC blares around eight soldiers, including wiseguy PFC. ED MAVOLE, crowded into space designed for four --

MAVOLE

Yo Melvin. You gonna play that hand, or hatch it?

-- CPL. AL MELVIN grunts, then they all look up, almost in unison, at Raymond when he swings open the back door. PFC. BOBBY BAKER, a slender man, barely eighteen, a driver, ejects a CD from the onboard stereo. Silence.

RAYMOND

We're moving out.

Beat. He shuts the door again.

5 EXT. THE BRADLEY - NIGHT

Raymond waits. Another beat. Then some LAUGHTER from inside the vehicle. He shifts his shoulders, walks back into the darkness.

6 OMITTED

7 OMITTED

8 INT. HUMMER - NIGHT - TRAVELLING

Marco, bug-like in night goggles, drives the infamous Highway of Death -- a macabre landscape of abandoned cars, trucks, minivans, shopping baskets, broken wooden pushcarts and festering fires; pots and pans and clothes and personal belongings are scattered out into the desert on either side of the road. Laurent rides shotgun. Raymond is in the back, facing forward, rifle at ease.

RAYMOND

Captain?

MARCO

Sergeant?

RAYMOND

Why don't I ever ride in the Bradley with the other enlisted personnel?

MARCO

(hesitates)

Maybe I enjoy your company, Sergeant.

RAYMOND

Sir, I don't want to be singled out for special treatment because of my mother's position --

MARCO

Too late for that, Shaw. As a charter member of the Lucky Sperm Club your benefits include unlimited suck-up from High-ranking Officers hoping to curry Congressional favor for their future career moves. But. If you want to ride in the Bradley, hey, I got no objections.

RAYMOND

(worried)

Trust me, sir, I don't wish to ride in the Bradley with the others, I'm just ...

(beat)

The men don't care for me very much.

MARCO

No, they don't. But. On the plus side, you don't really like them, either.

RAYMOND

That's absolutely correct, Captain.

MARCO

So. See? It, you know. Balances out.

LAURENT

-- Uh-oh.

Marco follows Laurent's gaze out the side window --

9NIGHT VISION GOGGLES: JUST OVER A DUNE

SOLDIERS ON CAMELS slip along like ghosts, pacing the Hummer, parallel at maybe fifty yards --

WHIP PAN

Through the driver's side window: more of the CAMEL CAVALRY tracks with them --

MARCO

Camels. You gotta be kidding me.

10 BACK TO - HUMMER - MARCO

glancing to his rear-view mirror --

11 IN THE MIRROR - ON THE ROAD BEHIND THEM:

Two dark trucks converge suddenly out of the darkness, on either side of the Bradley Fighting Vehicle -- They SLAM together in a pincer-wedge just in front of it, and the Bradley CRASHES into them -- climbs over them, off- balance, and SMASHES DOWN onto the roof of one of the trucks and is effectively low-bridged -- tracks spinning, unable to move -- DARK FIGURES scurry from the trucks 12 THE HUMMER -- skids around in a tight 180, stops, facing back at the helpless Bradley. Automatic weapons fire in bursts, bright, and ricochet harmlessly away -- IN THE HUMMER -- MARCO scrambles up out of his seat, pops the roof hatch and screams at Raymond --

MARCO

Take the wheel, Sergeant!

13 EXT. HUMMER - NIGHT

-- as Marco emerges to take the handles of the roof-mounted machine gun -- drops his NVGs back over his eyes and FIRES at the dispersing enemy figures around the Bradley --

14 INT. BRADLEY FIGHTING VEHICLE - NIGHT

Marco's cover fire RATTLES insanely off the armor --

MAVOLE BAKER

(screaming)(overlapping)

LOCK AND LOAD! LOCK ANDI CAN'T GET US OFF THIS

LOAD! TRUCK!

MELVIN

Quarter million dollars of U.S. Army hardware rat-fucked by a coupla used Toyotas.

He grabs a fire extinguisher and aims it at flames flaring from a console of instruments.

15 OMITTED

16 OMITTED

17 EXT. MARCO'S NIGHT VISION GOGGLES: THE DESERT

TRACER BULLETS. A lone enemy SOLDIER runs forward lugging a personal rocket launcher -- disappears behind a dune -- 18 MARCO -- coming off the machine gun, grabbing Raymond's rifle and rolling toward the back of the Hummer -- as he kicks out of the rear door --

MARCO

Shaw! Sniper with an RPG! DON'T STOP!

19 EXT. HUMMER - CONTINUOUS

-- Marco is firing before his feet touch the ground.

20 NIGHT VISION GOGGLES: THE DESERT

Rocket Launcher man does a face-plant in the sand.

21 THE BRADLEY -- its rear door HEAVES OPEN and our guys spill out, coughing, hacking, guns ready.

22 THE HUMMER - SAME TIME -- careens suddenly away, exposing a surprised Marco -- Raymond has lost control, fishtails into a deep trough -- the Hummer lurches onto its side, engine racing -- wheels spinning uselessly in air -- stalling --

MARCO

Oh Poop, Shaw –

23 ANOTHER ENEMY WITH A ROCKET LAUNCHER -- slides around an overturned trailer and FIRES:

24 OMITTED

25 THE ROCKET hits the Bradley Fighting Vehicle at a slant into its exposed belly, and the truck EXPLODES -- Marco's team scattering, pressing themselves into the sand, covering their heads --

A BOY'S VOICE

(amplified)

Were you scared?

THICK DARK SMOKE momentarily blankets the road. Silence.

FLASH FORWARD: A YOUNG BOY SCOUT - DAY

waiting for an answer, stares earnestly upward at:

FLASH FORWARD: MAJOR BEN MARCO - DAY

behind a podium, in his crisp dress uniform. His current self: older, tired. Lost for a moment.

MARCO

Scared?

(long beat)

You don't really have time to be scared.

Uneasy rustling of an o.s. audience. Somebody coughs. An air-conditioner KICKS IN, rumbling, becoming --

27 EXT. THE KUWAITI HIGHWAY - NIGHT - MARCO

raises his head. SEES: -- the Bradley, in flames. -- the Hummer, on its side in the ditch, headlights aglow -- -- shadows of enemy soldiers, retreating across the dunes.

-- MILITARY HELICOPTERS materializing out of the smoke and darkness ... circling ... NO SOUND --

MARCO (V.O.)

I couldn't hear anything, as I was temporarily deaf from the explosion of the Bradley ...-- SOLDIERS WITH GAS MASKS lean out of the open doors of the helicopters and drop GAS CANISTERS down on Marco's team.

IN SLOWING MOTION:

28 MARCO'S SQUAD -- the effect of the gas is immediate: Mavole collapses in his tracks. Melvin points a gun skyward and FIRES a burst that goes harmlessly wide of a helicopter.

Then he falls on his back. HEAVY, LUMINOUS, YELLOW-ORANGE VAPOR swirls across the battle -- WITH MARCO -- his shirt pulled up over his mouth and nose, he wheels to get away from the drifting gas, feet unsteady. Grabs a dazed Bobby Baker by the collar --

MARCO

I got your back, Baker. I got ...

-- and tries to pull him to safety ... knees buckling ... he looks up:

29 MARCO'S P.O.V. - THE HUMMER -- is no longer stalled on its side in the ditch, but improbably is righted again, back on four wheels and attacking. A vision of Raymond behind the machine gun, firing at the advancing enemy -- WITH MARCO -- trying to process this. Coughing. Fading.

30 OMITTED

FLASH FORWARD: MAJOR BEN MARCO

Behind the podium. Takes a sip of water, then:

MARCO

-- and with complete disregard for his own life and safety, Sgt. Shaw single-handedly engaged an entire company of the enemy --

FLASH FORWARD: MAJOR MARCO

Behind the podium, repeating himself:

MARCO

-- of the enemy --

32 EXT. KUWAITI TWO-LANE - NIGHT

The Hummer weaves through the wreckage, one of its tires WHIRLING IN FLAMES -- Raymond has the machine gun SPITTING BULLETS recklessly at the helicopters like a cartoon hero --

33 RESUME: MARCO

MARCO

(rote)

Sgt. Shaw repeatedly attacked from a mobile position, confounding the enemy --

34 EXT. KUWAITI TWO-LANE - NIGHT

One of the helicopters EXPLODES, the other spins away, trailing smoke and flames.

MARCO (V.O.)

-- neutralizing his aerial support --

RESUME: MARCO

Behind the podium.

MARCO

-- and finally dividing and defeating an overwhelmingly superior force.

36 INT. HIGH SCHOOL AUDITORIUM - CONTINUOUS

A Boy Scout luncheon banquet.

WASHINGTON D.C., NOW

A full chicken buffet table, banners, flags, and over one hundred SCOUTS, LEADERS and DADS, all looking somewhat attentively up at the guest speaker, U.S. Army Major Ben Marco.

MARCO

Like Edmonds in Korea, Holderman in Viet Nam, Raymond Shaw was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. I signed the recommendation myself.

A hand shoots up. Marco nods toward it.

ANOTHER SCOUT

Were you wounded?

MARCO

I was --

FB36 FLASH: MARCO ON THE KUWAITI TWO-LANE

Turning away from the overturned Humvee, and right into a head-high rifle-butt swung by the hands and arms of a gas mask-wearing figure.

RESUME - AUDITORIUM - MARCO

He blinks.

MARCO

-- injured. I fell, had a, uh, concussion -- lost focus -- Sgt. Shaw took command –

A disheveled man comes into the back of the room noisily,as:

SCOUT DAD

Did your unit sustain any casualties?

MARCO

Yes. Two. Two of my people were killed.

Silence. No more questions. The disheveled man (MELVIN) coughs. Marco pointedly ignores him.

MARCO

The Medal of Honor is the highest award to which any soldier can aspire. From the jungles of Iwo Jima to the desert of Kuwait, what these brave men I've talked about today did will never be forgotten. Since 1917, only 827 medals have been given to a total of more than 30 million Americans in arms. Only three have been awarded in the last 40 years. Who knows? Maybe someday one of you fine boys will earn one yourself in defense of this great nation.

A SCOUTMASTER, thin, bearded, stands up:

SCOUTMASTER

Major Marco, on behalf of Troops 484 and 488 -- just like to thank you, for coming to talk to us, about the Medal of Honor, and your interesting experiences in the Armed Services.

MARCO

Thanks for listening. My family has claimed the Army as a trade ever since a young gunnery officer who grew up with Hernando De Soto left Spain for a look at the upper Mississippi.

(beat)

My life is in service to my country.

MELVIN

You ever wish it'd been you?

MARCO

Excuse me?

MELVIN

Won the medal. Been the hero.

Something causes Marco to hesitate. Then, as if he'd rehearsed it:

MARCO

No, I'm just proud to have been there.

He sits down. Spattering of polite applause.

37 INT. H.S. AUDITORIUM ENTRANCE - LATER

The luncheon is breaking up. A couple of scouts chase each other through the clusters of men. Marco's leaving. Men stop him to shake his hand and thank him for coming.

MELVIN

Major Marco.

Marco turns, stares blankly into the eyes of the bedraggled-looking man, who half-salutes.

MELVIN

It's Al Melvin, Sir. Corporal Melvin. From your unit. Desert Storm.

Marco stares hard. Melvin looks like a homeless guy, his clothes rumpled, his fingernails stained and broken, his eyes wild with fatigue and paranoia.

MARCO

Melvin. Jesus -- how are you --

MELVIN

(intense)

I have these dreams, Major.

MARCO

Dreams.

MELVIN

Yeah. Kuwait. You and me. Mavole, and Baker. Raymond Shaw.

(beat)

See, I remember it happened the way you just said. And then I don't.

MARCO

Well, we had a pretty rough time over there, Al, it was hairy, and -- it was a long time ago, now. Memories shift.

MELVIN

Do you have dreams, sir?

MARCO

Everybody has dreams, Corporal --

MELVIN

Not these

Beat. Marco stares at him.

MARCO

No I don't.

Melvin's face falls, disappointed. Fumbling in his clothes, he finds a SPIRAL NOTEBOOK, dog-eared, and fat with newspaper clippings -- tries to press it into Marco's hands.

MELVIN

It's bad, sir. It's making me crazy. I write it down, every night, after I wake up, I try to get it all -- it doesn't always go together -- all of what I can remember, and --

MARCO

(gentle)

-- Al, you know, maybe you should be going to the VA and talking to a doctor, I mean if these dreams are really --

MELVIN

-- I've been to doctors!

The notebook DROPS BETWEEN THEM, and PAGES SCATTER on the floor. Both men go down to collect them --

MELVIN

I'm so stuck, sir. I mean -- I remember Shaw saving us, but it does not make sense -- it should have been you. And Shaw, he --

MARCO

Well, that's -- it's over and done. We've got to move on --

-- Marco rocks back on his heels as he stares down at a SKETCHY PORTRAIT OF AN ARABIC WOMAN whose face is covered with intricate designs -- Marco stares curiously, as if he recognizes her --

MELVIN

I can't get my hand around it. I thought maybe, if you had the dreams ...

MARCO

(shaken)

You need money --?

MELVIN

No. No sir.

Self-conscious (people are staring) Melvin shoves the notebook back inside his jacket.

MARCO

-- here --

Marco already digging for a crumpled twenty. Melvin wavesit off, backing away, suddenly pissed.

MELVIN

I don't need your money.

MARCO

Okay. Okay. Well, look, Al, I gotta --

MELVIN

Go.

MARCO

-- run, yeah. But.

(awkward)

It was great seeing you. And good luck to you.

Melvin just scowls sadly at Marco. Flash of glass, a door opens and closes, and Marco is gone.

38 EXT. H.S. PARKING LOT - DAY

Marco is motionless in his car, head resting against the steering wheel. He straightens up, with a thousand-yard stare. His hands are trembling. Slowly, he grips the steering wheel ... tighter and tighter ... until the trembling stops.

39INT. SUPERMARKET - CHECK-OUT COUNTER - NIGHT

A pretty CASHIER (ROSIE) empties Marco's basket: bottled water, three romance novels, a bottle of No-Doz, a bag of tomatoes and two dozen boxes of instant noodles.

40INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - CORRIDOR - NIGHT

Marco comes up the stairs with his groceries. An ELDERLY WOMAN sticks her head out from her apartment door:

WOMAN

-- Thirty seven.

Marco stops, looks at her blankly.

WOMAN

From the landing. Every week it gets longer. I'm worried about you.

He takes the romance novels out of his grocery bag and hands them to her.

MARCO

None of these involve slave traders or sheiks, Abby. I checked.

WOMAN

(blushes)

What do I owe you?

MARCO

(sad)

A smile.

She does.

41INT. MARCO'S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT

He enters, and a visible exhaustion overtakes him. He turns on the t.v., and sags to the sofa bed, drained.

BEHIND HIM - ON A BULLETIN BOARD:

yellowing newspaper clippings and wire photographs of Raymond Shaw. SENATOR'S SON SAVES UNIT IN KUWAIT. "LOST

PATROL" FOUND AFTER THREE DAYS IN DESERT; ALL BUT TWO

SURVIVE ORDEAL. SHAW RECEIVES NATION'S HIGHEST HONOR. GULF

HERO HONORED AT WHITE HOUSE DINNER. SHAW WINS N.Y.

CONGRESSIONAL SEAT; WILL BE YOUNGEST MEMBER OF HOUSE ...

Marco's not letting anything go.

TV41 ON THE TELEVISION

News coverage, the crowded floor of a political convention:

ROVING REPORTER

-- with public anxiety rekindled by the events of Bloody Friday, with the war on terror marching into yet another year, no end in sight --

MARCO

Yawns -- his eyelids flutter -- he shudders awake, digs in his grocery bag for the No Doz and shakes out half a dozen. Which he swallows dry.

ROVING REPORTER

-- the American people are looking for a new agenda -- but because this party remains deeply divided on so many issues, the choice of a vice presidential nominee may be the key unifying factor for the delegates of this convention in much the way Johnson helped Kennedy in 1960 ...Then he's up on his feet, moving to the kitchen through the small, cramped space overflowing with books, unopened boxes from Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.

42INT. MARCO'S APARTMENT - LATER

Marco sits at a clearing on the tiny kitchen table, eating instant noodles and trying to read Prizzi's Honor.

TV42VOICE/JORDAN

(on the t.v.)

We need to look inward -- attend to our own house -- the danger to our country is not from some terrorists at large -- terrorists we've helped engender with twenty years of failed foreign policy -- An open cabinet door behind Marco reveals ROWS AND ROWS OF

INSTANT NOODLES in the cupboard.

ON THE TELEVISION

News coverage, the crowded floor of a political convention. A poised, silvery, avuncular man, SENATOR THOMAS JORDAN (according to the title on the screen) on the podium:

JORDAN

-- no, the real danger is from suspending civil liberties, gutting the Bill of Rights, allowing our fear to destroy our democratic ideals --

43INT. HOTEL SUITE - NIGHT

The same speech continues, largely ignored by Congressman RAYMOND PRENTISS SHAW. Still intense and moody, the new Raymond Shaw's suit is expensive and crisp, his hair perfect. He's playing solitaire. And winning.

RAYMOND

(murmurs)

... I am not a professional politician. I am not a professional politician ...

TV43JORDAN (T.V.)

-- because once we start overturning our constitutional protections, our enemies have won.

RAYMOND

... I am ... a professional politician. Not.

KNOCKING on his door -- it opens, and Secret Service AGENT EVAN ANDERSON removes his key while SEN. ELEANOR SHAW, pretty and ageless, sweeps in -- closing the door on her aide (GILLESPIE) --

ELLIE

Raymond? Darling, what were you going to do, make me stand out there like room service?

-- soft curves conceal razor claws and titanium backbone -- she kisses her son on the lips, straightens his collar, his tie, lets her hands smooth his shirt to his chest for a little too long, and never stops talking:

ELLIE

I asked downstairs and Miss Freeman, your 'wrangler' -- helpful Ms. Freeman -- said you were up here practicing your speech. Honestly, I don't understand why you insist upon isolating yourself, people adore you, Raymond, they crave your company and yet here you are, holed up, as if you were some kind of emotionally challenged individual like your father instead of Raymond Prentiss Shaw, a handsome, intelligent, people-loving war hero with a great deal to offer to his party and his country.

RAYMOND

No.

ELLIE

No what? Baby, I haven't even asked you a question. Your hair is too flat. And that tie. The tie is wrong.

RAYMOND

No to the question you're going to ask. No to all the questions you pretend to want to ask --

ELLIE

(the tie)

Something a little less busy.

RAYMOND

-- and no you may not engage in your usual back-door political thuggery to shovel me onto the presidential ticket.

ELLIE

Oh. You're not interested? I thought you were. Did I miss my cue?

RAYMOND

Of course I'm interested -- I wouldn't be here if I wasn't -- but not if it means attacking the reputation of a statesman like Thomas Jordan, which I'm sure was your plan. Let democracy run its course, mother. Let the people decide.

Now Ellie stares at him, mouth agape.

RAYMOND

What.

ELLIE

I'm sorry, for a second there I thought it was your father speaking – that dreaded Shaw blood rising -- and the stink of defeat made me nauseous.

RAYMOND

Mother --

ELLIE

And excuse me, when have I ever attacked the honorable Mr. Jordan, despite the shameful way his daughter misled you that summer at the shore.

RAYMOND

Mother, you chased her away --

ELLIE

If that's how you want to remember it.

RAYMOND

-- you ruined everything.

ELLIE

Honey, you're oversimplifying things somewhat -- but, yes, okay -- I promise, promise I will stay out of it. You have my word.

Raymond stares at her.

ELLIE

After all, you're young and you have plenty of party conventions ahead of you in which to discover, as your father did, that democracy is an elusive and imperfect science, and the meek do not happily inherit the earth, but simply get eaten by the alpha dogs, chewed up, digested and deposited on the carefully mown parkways of American politics. Raymond rolls his eyes. She ruffles his hair again, heads into the bedroom.

ELLIE (O.S.)

One day, you will, I'm sure, tearfully memorialize me in your acceptance speech. Don't you have a different tie in here? Your grandfather always let me pick his ties.

Raymond smooths his hair back down.

RAYMOND

I'm wearing the one I have on.

No response.

44CLOSE - CONVENTION PODIUM - NIGHT (TELEVISED VIDEO)

Raymond is speaking. His tie is different. So is he: now he exudes a telegenic warmth and vivacity, his manner confident, easy, open.

TV44RAYMOND

I've always said I am not a professional politician, although I hold, and have been held -- well, hugged -- in elected office –

(a winning smile:)

-- you all know my mother, Senator Eleanor Prentiss Shaw ...

A CHORUS of cheers, and appreciative laughter -- he's won them over already --

45INT. MARCO'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Marco, on the sofa, stares hard at the televised Raymond Shaw, as:

TV45RAYMOND/T.V.

... and some of you no doubt remember my father ... the late Senator John Shaw.

(he seems to want to say more, but doesn't)

I've been honored to serve my two terms in Congress. But I also grew up on the Hill. I've seen how the game is played by professionals –

Marco reaches for his steaming cup of coffee, his eyes never leaving the screen -- he just doesn't get this at all --

46INT. CONVENTION HALL - BACK STAGE

Ellie in the f.g., intently watching a monitor while, in the deep b.g., slightly out of focus, we can SEE Raymond speaking, and his convention audience beyond ...

TV46RAYMOND

-- how deals are struck, committees bullied, agendas bought and sold -- and, with apologies to my mother, I wish to remain an amateur. I believe democracy is not negotiable. We need to secure tomorrow, today.

Ellie shakes her head fondly, and begins to move away as CROWD ROARS --

47CONVENTION CENTER CORRIDOR, BACK STAGE - CONTINUOUS

TRACKING with Ellie and Gillespie and his two aides, and a posse of three other FORMIDABLE-LOOKING POLITICIANS through a hallway crowded with NETWORK CAMERA CREWS, STRAY DELEGATES, HIGH SCHOOL MARCHING BAND members and a complete DRILL TEAM in red-white-and-blue sequined leotards, as:

ELLIE

Bluffing?

GILLESPIE

That was the inference.

Raymond's speech echoes incoherently through the corridor.

ELLIE

They should be down on their fat white knees thanking me for saving this party from committing political seppuku.

CONGRESSMAN HEALY

You gave them every opportunity to do the right thing, Senator.

ELLIE

(glances at him)

No. I gave them one opportunity. And that was unusually generous of me.

She pushes through a door, and into --

48 INT. CONVENTION BACK ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Raymond's speech plays, low, on a television, and half a dozen DELEGATES and POWER PLAYERS with "Arthur For President" buttons grimly watch Ellie breeze in. Party Chairman VAUGHN UTLY anticipates her:

UTLY

The decision is final, Senator. Tom Jordan is on the ticket. We don't need your blessing, but we'd like it.

ELLIE

(smiling:)

Before we get started, I'm dying to know: which genius here hatched the scheme of pairing a Sound Bite from Nebraska with a relic who thinks keeping suicide bombers off our busses is unconstitutional?

UTLY

All the research indicates that an Arthur- Jordan ticket sits quite well with the American public and --

ELLIE

'Sits quite well' translates into how many votes?

SENATOR WELLS

Your son is largely unknown outside of New York. His public service, his Congressional record, while commendable, is --

ELLIE

My son is a war hero.

CONGRESSMAN FLORES

(cheerful)

Governor Arthur has agreed to consider Raymond for a cabinet post.

A cold silence. Ellie stands --

ELLIE

We didn't come here to have a discussion.

UTLY

ELLIE

Senator --(to her posse)

Did we come here to have a discussion?

SENATOR WELLS

Ellie, you don't have the votes to block this, or even push the nomination to a second ballot.

ELLIE

(ignores him)

Even running against this cut-and-fold vice president, with his party's record of abysmal failure at home and abroad, Arthur is still unelectable without help.

(cold, hard logic:)

Consider. The Governor is a corn-belt candidate who -- scratch and sniff -- looks and smells alot like the kind of liberal-labor-intellectual Dukakis was, but without, thank God, the helmet.

(beat)

Assume our intrepid Arthur can carry the Northeast, plus his home ground, and California. We're still dead in the South, and Southwest, where they win by landslides. The mid-central is a toss-up. Tom Jordan actually becomes a liability in Florida because of his

Castro-appeasement profile, and in the Carolinas, where he fumbles the military vote over his "terrorism isn't a war it's a social disease" nonsense.

The room is surreally silent. Ellie spins and moves like a televangelist, preaching to the frightened faithful.

ELLIE

You know this. Your own polls and surveys back me up.

(beat)

You're counting on Jordan to help you get he black vote, women, college kids – my gut instinct says he won't -- and Arthur holding the center -- where he's soft at best. And who's to say the President won't throw troops into another third-world skirmish, pushing his sidekick's approval ratings up into the eighties again, and the campaign off the front pages?

[size=2]UTLY[/size]

[size=2]We're confident this is a winning ticket, Ellie.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]What's your margin of error? Five points? Three?[/size]

[size=2] (beat)[/size]

[size=2]I can swing that, and you know it. I can swing seven away from you -- more than enough to split the party and --[/size]

[size=2]SENATOR WELLS[/size]

[size=2] (over her)[/size]

[size=2]-- and deny us the White House for four more years? No. Not even you would do that, Senator. You're bluffing.[/size]

[size=2]Ellie stares at them. OUTSIDE, SUDDENLY: the marching band begins playing "It's a Grand Old Flag," and hurries out onto the ROARING convention floor ...[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]America is facing the greatest test of its history, gentlemen. Not just from terrorist organizations both outside and within our borders, but from covert alliances of disaffected nations so terrified of winding up on our Poop list they believe the only way to protect themselves is to hit us with everything they can find before we get around to[/size][size=2] them. Am I the only one in this room paying attention to the NSA reports? We are on the brink of nuclear cataclysm, on our own soil, while our policies remain shackled by Jordan-style One Worlders who insist that human beings are essentially Good ... and that Power is something shameful, and Evil.[/size]

[size=2] (then)[/size]

[size=2]Make no mistake, the people of this great country are frightened. They know what's coming. They can feel it. And we can shovel them the same old Poop and call it sugar, or arm them, with a young, vibrant, populist congressman, a war hero with heart -- forged by enemy fire, in the desert, in the dark, when American lives hung in the balance.[/size]

[size=2]49 INT. CONVENTION FLOOR - NIGHT (VIDEO[/size]

[size=2]One of Ellie's back-room adversaries at the microphone, as balloons fall and the crowd CHEERS:[/size]

[size=2]TV49SENATOR WELLS[/size]

[size=2]-- proud to offer into nomination the name of the next vice president of these United States, RAYMOND SHAAAWWWWWW --![/size]

[size=2]Happy bedlam.[/size]

[size=2]50INT. MARCO'S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT[/size]

[size=2]The images on the television flicker across Marco, who stares with apparent disbelief at the coverage:[/size]

[size=2]TV50NEWSCASTER #1[/size]

[size=2]... a remarkable development --[/size]

[size=2]TV50A ON THE PODIUM - RAYMOND (VIDEO)[/size]

[size=2]Hands held high, linked with the presidential candidate, ROBERT ARTHUR who is clearly eclipsed by Raymond's youth, his heroic good looks, his natural charisma ...[/size]

[size=2]REPORTER #1[/size]

[size=2](from the convention floor)[/size]

[size=2]-- like a long shot catching the favorite on the back stretch of the Derby ...[/size]

[size=2]TV50B A STACCATO FLURRY OF IMAGES -- Raymond and his mother, news clips, still photos -- appear behind a MAJOR MEDIA ICON:[/size]

[size=2]MEDIA ICON[/size]

[size=2]Raymond Shaw bears the lineage of the fabled Prentiss family dynasty -- grandson of legendary industrialist and diplomat Tyler Prentiss, son of controversial Senator Eleanor Prentiss Shaw, who took over the seat vacated by her husband, the esteemed John Shaw, when he died tragically over twenty years ago.[/size]

[size=2]Marco taking it all in --[/size]

[size=2]MEDIA ICON[/size]

[size=2]For many, Raymond Prentiss Shaw is an enigma: millionaire Harvard honors student who enlists in the military –[/size]

[size=2]INTERCUT: NEWS FILE FOOTAGE of Raymond's personal history:[/size]

[size=2]MEDIA ICON[/size]

[size=2]-- refusing the officer's commission to which he was entitled. The Medal of Honor winner beloved by the men of the 'Lost Patrol' he saved from an enemy ambush, and then guided back across the open desert to safety --[/size]

[size=2]TV50CCPL. MELVIN IN 1992[/size]

[size=2](Gulf War news archive, after the squad was rescued)[/size]

[size=2]Sgt. Shaw? Hell, he's probably the kindest, bravest, warmest, most selfless[/size][size=2] human being I've ever known.[/size]

[size=2]Marco reacts to the image of Melvin from ten years ago: young, engaging, eyes alive -- Marco's lips move in sync with words of Melvin's statement ('bravest, warmest' 'selfless' 'ever known') -- as if he knows it by heart -- his mind shifting --[/size]

[size=2]MEDIA ICON[/size]

[size=2]The war hero who dedicated himself to public service after Desert Storm ...[/size]

[size=2]PUSH IN on Marco. His eyes distant, glazed -- tranced:[/size]

[size=2]MEDIA ICON[/size]

[size=2]... the revolutionary science of bio-genetics, which has, literally --[/size]

[size=2]51 PUSH IN ON THE TELEVISION: TIGHT - A RED SUPERTOMATO[/size]

[size=2]now commands the screen, plump and glistening in an olive- skinned hand decorated with intricate henna tattoos --[/size]

[size=2]WOMAN'S VOICE[/size]

[size=2]-- transformed the common garden tomato, through genome-level intervention, from that fragile, fickle, vulnerable fruit one must struggle to simply nurture to maturity -- -- the supertomato slowly bisects itself -- opening, oozing viscous red liquid -- revealing an inner structure far more suggestive of the human brain than any tomato we've ever seen before.[/size]

[size=2]WOMAN'S VOICE[/size]

[size=2]-- into a resilient, dependable, categorically superior individual in every conceivable way -- -- moving through[/size]

[size=2]52 MARCO'S DREAMSCAPE -- where the MYSTERIOUS ARABIC WOMAN from Melvin's drawings -- henna tattoos on her face, as well as her hands -- thick, blood-red pulp of the supertomato dripping between her fingers -- glides dreamily across intricate, sun-bleached tile work through a gathering of similarly clothed Arabic WOMEN. A few OLDER, ARABIC MEN are off to one side, expressionless, hands in pockets.[/size]

[size=2]MYSTERIOUS WOMAN[/size]

[size=2]-- strappingly resistant to parasite, disease, over-ripening and systemic failure -- while, at the same time, fiercely heat and water tolerant -- IMPRESSIONS of soldiers -- MEMBERS of Marco's squad – flak jackets and BDUs, rifles at ease, some squatting, some[/size]

[size=2]leaning against the wall ... Cpl. Al Melvin preternaturally engrossed in the presentation ... We hear a SANDSTORM raging outside, causing LONG DRAPERIES to FLUTTER and POP! like sails ... STRONG IMPRESSIONS of PFCs ED MAVOLE and BOBBY BAKER ...[/size]

[size=2]MYSTERIOUS WOMAN[/size]

[size=2]-- yet -- note the complexity of the frontal lobe -- nevertheless retaining a sweet, juicy plumpness reminiscent of the finest English Beefsteak or Italian Plum. IMPRESSIONS of the American Flag. IMPRESSIONS of SGT. RAYMOND SHAW -- he waits for the mysterious woman like an obedient schoolboy, dutifully holding his SERVICE REVOLVER in his hand.[/size]

[size=2]MYSTERIOUS WOMAN[/size]

[size=2]Those of you with ties to the Intelligence community may recall the CIA's misguided MK-ULTRA program, the KGB's Novichok research, and similar half- assed ventures in Great Britain and China -- under the lay term of 'mind control.'[/size]

[size=2]53 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]54 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]55 The Bedouin women begin to make a spooky trilling sound, their ZAGHAREET -- as the mysterious woman's voice starts to MORPH into a MAN'S VOICE:[/size]

[size=2]MYSTERIOUS WOMAN[/size]

[size=2]Street-corner schizophrenics with tin foil on their heads offer sad proof of the failure of those endeavors.[/size]

[size=2]She smiles, creepy, puts a hand on Raymond's shoulder --[/size]

[size=2]MYST. W./NOYLE'S VOICE[/size]

[size=2]I can assure you, this is a whole new ball game.[/size]

[size=2]SWERVE:[/size]

[size=2]MARCO -- is here, too -- his head wrapped in a bandage, he's wearing hospital greens. WIRES AND TUBES are rigged to his head, chest, arms and legs like some HIGH-TECH MARIONETTE ---- all coiling up into the shadows of the high ceiling, into thicker cables and tubes beneath which robotic BRACKET ARMS adjust, whirring softly, with his every movement ... he's drugged to the gills, jerking with spasms as low voltage electricity courses through his brain ...... and the women's shrill zaghareet PEAKS --[/size]

[size=2]NOYLE (O.S.)[/size]

[size=2]Captain Marco --[/size]

[size=2]DR. ATTICUS NOYLE[/size]

[size=2]the mysterious Arabic woman has become the sleek, Caucasian scientist, ATTICUS NOYLE, whose oddly accented English is flawless:[/size]

[size=2]NOYLE[/size]

[size=2]-- when you're rescued and returned with your patrol to command headquarters, what will be among the first duties you will undertake?[/size]

[size=2]56 ON MARCO all rigged up with his wires --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I'll recommend Sergeant Shaw for the Medal of Honor, ma'am. He saved our lives, terminated the enemy and led us across the desert to safety.[/size]

[size=2]Now the dreamscape visuals seem REAR-PROJECTED on luminous, rippling white fabric ... the Bedouin people, tomato/brain images, the mystery woman, appear as TWO-DIMENSIONAL FILMED[/size]

[size=2]IMAGES, flickering across draperies ...[/size]

[size=2]NOYLE[/size]

[size=2]Yes. Brilliant. But there were casualties?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]There are always casualties, ma'am.[/size]

[size=2]... the DREAM SOUNDS (wind, fabric, women chanting) emanate from audio speakers, the sandstorm's wind caused by huge, moveable FANS ...... IMPRESSION of an OLD MAN shaking a percussive gourd, mesmerizing ... ... IMPRESSIONS of the squad all rigged up like Marco, with tubes and wires ... Laurent glides behind them -- lab coat, SURGICAL GLOVES on his hands ...[/size]

[size=2]A collection of remote cameras on scaffolding and tripods BUZZ and WHIR as they swivel to follow him.[/size]

[size=2]NOYLE[/size]

[size=2]Here, then, are ten subject soldiers in a clinically-induced functional fugue state. Hyperdelusional that they've been bivouacked in a small caravansary to wait out a sandstorm.[/size]

[size=2]Marco blinks: sees the mysterious Arabic woman dressed in Noyle's simple suit.[/size]

[size=2]MYSTERIOUS WOMAN[/size]

[size=2] (smiles)[/size]

[size=2]A simple Pavlovian parlor trick.[/size]

[size=2]SNAPPING of fabric, the wind gets louder.[/size]

[size=2]57 MARCO -- looks around -- no more tubes or wires, and NOYLE is now a PROJECTED IMAGE on the fabric. The dreamscape is bending, smearing ... realities overlapping.[/size]

[size=2]PUSHING IN ON SPOOKY, HERKY-JERKY, STREAMING-VIDEO-STYLE[/size]

[size=2]NOYLE IMAGE:[/size]

[size=2]NOYLE[/size]

[size=2]Our Candidate's course of treatment will, of course, involve considerably more sophisticated intervention over a sustained time period, to ensure that a stable mechanism is irrevocably in place. We employ a kind of neurocellular conversion. Psychological abreaction through genomic repurposing.[/size]

[size=2] (then)[/size]

[size=2]"But Dr. Noyle, all the literature -- all the literature says you cannot make an[/size]

[size=2]individual act against his deepest moral nature -- or his own self interest."[/size]

[size=2] (beat)[/size]

[size=2]Hmmm. Let's see.[/size]

[size=2] (then)[/size]

[size=2]Sgt. Shaw. Ever killed anyone?[/size]

[size=2]IMPRESSIONS of RAYMOND -- hyper-alert – frighteningly engaged, and agreeable.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]No ma'am.[/size]

[size=2]NOYLE[/size]

[size=2]Not even in combat?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]No ma'am.[/size]

[size=2]NOYLE[/size]

[size=2]Brilliant. Casualty time.[/size]

[size=2]Raymond's wires and tubes float with him as he circles, pleasantly exchanging greetings with Marco --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Captain.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Sergeant.[/size]

[size=2]NOYLE[/size]

[size=2]Raymond. Suffocate Private Mavole.[/size]

[size=2]IMPRESSION of Raymond thrusting a plastic bag over Mavole's head --[/size]

[size=2]MAVOLE[/size]

[size=2]Whoawhoa -- wait -- wait a sec –[/size]

[size=2]-- Raymond's hands twist it TIGHTLY -- Mavole's limbs in turmoil, hands fluttering, his SHROUDED FACE suffocating in the translucent fog of the plastic bag -- PFC. BOBBY BAKER -- intent upon Raymond's killing of Mavole, gaze unwavering, untroubled -- SOUND of the zaghareet, peaking --[/size]

[size=2]NOYLE (O.S.)[/size]

[size=2]And at the instant he completes this, or any task, Raymond has already forgotten that he has ever been involved in it.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND SHAW -- all business -- focused and purposeful -- twists the bag even tighter -- the plastic bag steaming -- tubes break, spit liquid, blood -- wires SPARK – while Noyle floats through the b.g., a blur --[/size]

[size=2]58INT. MARCO'S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT[/size]

[size=2]Marco willing himself awake -- like a man shaking off death itself -- the t.v.'s a blurred reflection warped across the window glass behind him:[/size]

[size=2]TV58NEWSCASTER #2[/size]

[size=2](distant)[/size]

[size=2] ... Wisconsin makes it official. Raymond Shaw is the vice-presidential nominee ...[/size]

[size=2]59EXT. SERIES OF SHOTS - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Monuments, stark and cold. Capitol Hill. Supreme Court. The White House. The Lincoln Memorial ... the Pentagon.[/size]

[size=2]A60 EXT. WALTER REED ARMY HOSPITAL - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Establishing, as:[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD (O.S.)[/size]

[size=2]Taking your meds?[/size]

[size=2]60INT. WALTER REED HOSPITAL - ARMY SHRINK'S OFFICE - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Marco with LT. COL. HOWARD, a kindly but pedantic Army staff psychiatrist, referring to notes:[/size]

[size=2]MARCO (O.S.)[/size]

[size=2]Yes sir.[/size]

[size=2](beat)[/size]

[size=2]No sir.[/size]

[size=2]Beat. Howard looks up at Marco.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]The meds make me ... spongy. I float. I'm not sharp --[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]The meds help you sleep.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]When I sleep, I dream. I don't want to dream, sir.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]You're off your meds, sleep-deprived, you have an unexpected encounter with a member of your Gulf War recon team, Al Melvin, who mentions some dreams he's been having --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Dreams like mine.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2](ignores)[/size]

[size=2]-- and suddenly your own bad dreams come charging back. Made worse by your chronic fear of them. Add in all the recent campaign news about Congressman Shaw, which is obviously rekindling your feelings of guilt and jealousy --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]-- I'm not jealous of Raymond Shaw, sir.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]Okay. How did you feel when you heard the news from the convention?[/size]

[size=2]Marco shrugs.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]A shrug isn't a feeling.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I felt ... fine. No big deal.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]Fine.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yes.[/size]

[size=2](almost angry)[/size]

[size=2]Glad for him. He deserves it. Raymond Shaw is probably the kindest, bravest, warmest --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]-- most selfless human being-- most selfless human being I've ever ... you've ever known.[/size]

[size=2]Half a beat --[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]You're fucking with me, Major.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]No sir. I wouldn't do that, sir.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]What other conclusion can I draw?[/size]

[size=2]Marco says nothing. Holding back what he's thinking.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]Look, we've been over this a million times. Until you forgive yourself for what happened that night in Kuwait, the loss of your men -- for what you did, for what you didn't do ...[/size]

[size=2]No reaction from Marco. The Lt. Colonel sighs.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]How's Public Affairs?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]It sucks, sir. I want to get back to Intelligence.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]Then for God's sake, Ben, go back on your meds. And stay on them, this time. Get some sleep. I'll see you in two weeks.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yes sir. Same time, same station.[/size]

[size=2]Marco starts to get up --[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]And stay the hell away from television.[/size]

[size=2]61 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]62 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]63 INT./EXT. D.C. BOTANICAL GARDENS - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Festive champagne brunch. Lush indoor foliage. The Capitol Dome visible in the b.g. Huge, graphic banners declaim the campaign slogan: SECURE TOMORROW and the ticket: ARTHUR-SHAW.[/size]

[size=2]An elegant ALL-WOMAN HARP ORCHESTRA plays new-age patriotic music, and a thick crowd of WEALTHY PARTY INNER CIRCLE members jostle between elegant food stations, or cue up for[/size][size=2] thirty seconds with presidential-hopeful Robert Arthur.[/size]

[size=2]MOVING WITH - MARCO[/size][size=2] who has two retired, old Illegitimate Generals in his company, stars gleaming on their shoulders. Marco's eyes scan the room; he's a man on a mission:[/size]

[size=2]GENERAL SLOAN[/size]

[size=2]No offense, Major, but it chaps my ass we gotta have a babysitter.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Sir, I'm just here to keep you from getting into fist-fights with the Navy guys.[/size]

[size=2]The old generals laugh, appreciate this. Marco stops -- eureka -- he's found his target:[/size]

[size=2]MARCO'S P.O.V. - ACROSS THE HUGE ROOM - RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]holding side-show vice-presidential court for some enamored young women and their banker husbands. SECRET SERVICE agents, including his everpresent Anderson, maintaining a[/size][size=2] careful perimeter.[/size]

[size=2]GENERAL WILSON (O.S.)[/size]

[size=2]Major Marco --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO AND THE GENERALS[/size]

[size=2]Marco forced to pull his gaze away from Raymond:[/size]

[size=2]GENERAL WILSON[/size]

[size=2]-- this Army of Two's gonna do some recon on the no host bar.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Right behind you, sirs.[/size]

[size=2]Whereupon[/size] [size=2]SENATOR ELEANOR SHAW [/size][size=2]powers through with Gillespie and a couple of our media FLAKS, giving them an earful:[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]-- billions of dollars, thousands of troops, sacrificed on behalf of a disastrous foreign policy which has only served to galvanize our enemies --[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]Excuse us please -- Whoa –[/size]

[size=2]FOR AN INSTANT Ellie and Marco lock eyes -- then the crowd swallows her again --[/size]

[size=2]GENERAL WILSON[/size]

[size=2]They oughta put up a crossing guard.[/size]

[size=2]GENERAL SLOAN[/size]

[size=2]Or rig her with an air horn.[/size]

[size=2]WITH RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]-- distractedly staring at a pretty young woman (JOCELYN JORDAN) near the entrance.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2](to the bankers and wives)[/size]

[size=2]I mean -- that's supposed to be the whole point of this great country, isn't it? That everybody matters. Not just the people at this party -- no offense – but the people who can't afford to be here.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2](arriving:)[/size]

[size=2]Raymond --[/size]

[size=2](to the couples)[/size]

[size=2]-- sorry to interrupt -- But she's not.[/size]

[size=2]Slipping her arm through his and steering him away...[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]You must learn not to let yourself get cornered by the bottom-feeders.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Including you?[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]I devour everything in my path, darling, top or bottom, you know that.[/size]

[size=2]...to join a lively group of corporate heavyweights. DAVID DONOVAN is a man possessed of a commanding presence, radiating charm, brilliance and stealth. J.B. (JAY) JOHNSTON is younger than the others, a three-sport letterman who graduated with distinction from Princeton and happily works until there's no one left in the office to give instructions to. MARK WHITING is gracious and warm.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]Hello Mark.[/size]

[size=2]Ellie greets Whiting with a fondness she reserves for old friends -- as a former Tyler Prentiss protégé, he now stands comfortably at the fertile crossroads where big industry[/size][size=2] meets big government, and profits soar.[/size]

[size=2]WHITING[/size]

[size=2]Eleanor! Congratulations, Raymond. Your grandad would be so goddamn proud of you.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Nice to see you Mark. Thanks.[/size]

[size=2]The following flows, overlapping, easy:[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]-- Raymond, this is J.B. Johnston, from Manchurian Global --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Yes, hi --[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]-- and David Donovan, their Managing Director.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]-- and co-chair of the U.S. International Policy Caucus.[/size]

[size=2]DONOVAN ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]One and the same.(teasing) They're desperate to be of service to you, Raymond.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Go away, mother. You've earned your fee.[/size]

[size=2]Raymond flashes a dazzling Kennedyesque smile, as the men chuckle appreciatively.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]The plucky idealist.[/size]

[size=2]Ellie glides off, unfazed. The men banter on:[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Gentlemen, how's business?[/size]

[size=2]WHITING[/size]

[size=2]Good, Raymond. Business is good.[/size]

[size=2]JOHNSTON[/size]

[size=2]Could always be better.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Careful. Any better, you'll be a monopoly.[/size]

[size=2]DONOVAN[/size]

[size=2]There's the challenge. Maximizing the market share and potential of a company.[/size]

[size=2]WHITING[/size]

[size=2]Or a country.[/size]

[size=2]Off their shared, collegial laughter --[/size]

[size=2]ACROSS THE ROOM - MARCO - MONETS LATER[/size]

[size=2]watches Raymond take his leave from the Manchurian Global guys -- while, at the bar, the generals have established their beachhead of Bloody Marys with a couple of younger men[/size]

[size=2]in NAVY WHITES:[/size]

[size=2]REAR ADMIRAL GLICK[/size]

[size=2]Every great civilization has been anchored by a great Navy.[/size]

[size=2]GENERAL SLOAN[/size]

[size=2]Bullshit. You guys are sea chum, ripe for some raghead with a rocket launcher to put a hole in your bucket.[/size]

[size=2]Marco laughs deliberately, trying to diffuse the tension.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2](low)[/size]

[size=2]If you can't behave yourselves, Generals, we're gonna spend the rest of the day watching the Orioles game back at the hotel.[/size]

[size=2]Whereupon Raymond parades past, with his Secret Service handlers, oblivious to Ben until he calls out.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Congressman -- Sergeant Shaw –[/size]

[size=2]Raymond turning, but not stopping --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Ben Marco.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I know.[/size]

[size=2](strange, dreamy)[/size]

[size=2]Hello Captain.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]It's Major, and --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2](As if it surprises him:)[/size]

[size=2]But he keeps walking --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I need to talk to you.-- okay.[/size]

[size=2]-- Marco frowns, watches Raymond weave through the crowd towards Jocie, at the entrance. Marco follows, passing: ELLIE AND JORDAN locked in fierce, low battle, off to one side, voices hard, rising out of the din:[/size]

[size=2]JORDAN[/size]

[size=2]-- the political extortion you committed in order to destroy my vice presidential[/size]

[size=2]bid so that --[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]Tom.[/size]

[size=2]JORDAN[/size]

[size=2]-- so that you might vicariously bask in reflected limelight from your son --[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2](overlapping)[/size]

[size=2]Tom, please, just because the party felt a younger, more dynamic man could help the ticket, I don't think it's fair for you to single me out and --[/size]

[size=2]JORDAN[/size]

[size=2]You know, I have such contempt for you, Eleanor, that when I think of you, I actually fear for this country. Raymond is nothing. A riddle. A wild card at worst. But you, you are the smiler who wraps her dagger in the cloak of the flag and waits for her chance to strike. Which I pray will never come.[/size]

[size=2]He wheels away --[/size]

[size=2]64 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]65 EXT. BOTANICAL GARDENS - ENTRANCE - MARCO[/size]

[size=2]has found Raymond with Jocie -- outside -- but hangs back -- overhearing Raymond's earnest and intense conversation with Jocie, who is slightly uncomfortable with this but trying to make light of it --[/size]

[size=2]JOCELYN[/size]

[size=2]... but Raymond, my God, it's been so many years -- I've been married and divorced --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I've changed too.[/size]

[size=2]JOCELYN[/size]

[size=2]That's not what I -- but, yes, it's great, really -- I see that you have -- congratulations --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]-- But my feelings haven't. Changed, I mean ...[/size]

[size=2]Jocie starts to say something, is at a loss for words --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]... I guess I've never stopped -- feeling -- wondering -- how it might have turned out, you know, between us, if --[/size]

[size=2]JOCELYN[/size]

[size=2] (overlapping)[/size]

[size=2]Raymond -- people can't rewrite their lives --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Jocie, I haven't even been with another girl since we ... stopped seeing each other -- doesn't that say something to you?[/size]

[size=2]JOCELYN[/size]

[size=2]That you must be just about the loneliest person on earth, and it breaks my heart.[/size]

[size=2]Raymond is staggered -- doesn't know what to say --[/size]

[size=2]JOCELYN[/size]

[size=2]I've got to go -- good luck with the campaign.[/size]

[size=2]She hurries to a waiting limo -- her father's already inside -- Raymond still wants to say something, he wants to stop her, but --[/size]

[size=2]
[/size]

[size=2]MARCO (O.S.)[/size]

[size=2]Sergeant Raymond Shaw –[/size]

[size=2]Raymond turns --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]What?[/size]

[size=2]Marco slides in front of him with a disarming grin.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I want to talk to you too.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]-- Not now.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]-- I know you're busy -- I just have to ask you –[/size]

[size=2]He starts to move away, but Marco grabs his arm --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I saw Al Melvin the other day -- remember Corporal Melvin?[/size]

[size=2]Raymond yanks his arm away --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Don't touch me.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Okay -- sorry -- but -- Melvin, he's extremely disturbed about what happened to us, on the recon patrol, back in Kuwait --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Don't ever touch me.[/size]

[size=2]Beat. Marco's eyebrows go up.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Sorry.[/size]

[size=2]Raymond's secret service agent, ANDERSON slips himself between him, smiling politely, easing Marco away:[/size]

[size=2]ANDERSON[/size]

[size=2]Tried the Pad Thai, Major? I'm told it rules.[/size]

[size=2]CLOSE - COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2]tense and unsmiling.[/size]

[size=2]COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2]What were you hoping he'd say?[/size]

[size=2]We are:[/size]

[size=2]66 INT. PENTAGON - CONFERENCE ROOM - MARCO[/size]

[size=2]is in a more formal setting -- Lt. Col. Howard is with COLONEL GARRET and an enlisted soldier, a WOMAN, taking notes --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I don't know, sir.[/size]

[size=2](cautious, now)[/size]

[size=2]It isn't so much what he said, or didn't say -- but his demeanor, his attitude. Sir, I overheard an exchange he --[/size]

[size=2]COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2](talks over this)[/size]

[size=2]I think you hoped Congressman Shaw would say, "yes, Major, I've had those same dreams. Tomatoes and sandstorms. You're not nuts, there's some crazy Poop going down here."[/size]

[size=2]Marco says nothing.[/size]

[size=2]COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2]Major, we've been down this road with you before, yes?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]No, sir, not this road, sir. But I hear what you're saying, and I want to do thisthrough the proper channels.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]Are you back on your meds?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Lt. Colonel Howard -- with respect -- I've had a dozen years of experts telling me I've got Gulf War Syndrome, or a stress disorder. Twelve years being a good soldier, denying what every nerve ending in my body tells me is more real than not. One dream, over and over. Not variations on a dream, the same one, night after night after night --[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]-- Your guilt and your jealousy require you to construct this ... elaborate fiction, so that you --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]No --[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]-- can avoid the truth.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]-- No sir. Something happened to us, in the desert, ten years ago. Not what we thought it was. And it happened on my watch.[/size]

[size=2]Beat.[/size]

[size=2]COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2]Have you contacted any other members of the unit besides Shaw and Melvin? Asked them about the dreams?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2](from notes he's made)[/size]

[size=2]Owens died of cancer in '97. Villalobos, a car crash. Atkins committed suicide. Jamison was at the Pentagon, 9-11, body never recovered. Wilson I'm still trying to track down.[/size]

[size=2]Garret and Howard trade looks.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Sir, I know I can't ask you to talk to Congressman Shaw, not yet, but Al Melvin, it's a phone call, a quick q&a -- look at his notebooks, hear what he's been dreaming -- and either he will support the credibility of what I'm saying, or he won't. And I'll shut up.[/size]

[size=2]COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2]And what is it you are saying, exactly, Major? That you misrepresented -- falsified -- what happened In Kuwait? About the Medal of Honor? In effect, committed perjury.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]If you just talk to Melvin --[/size]

[size=2]COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2](ignores)[/size]

[size=2]-- No, no, I'm sorry -- you're saying an entire squad of U.S. Army soldiers washypnotized into believing that Raymond Shaw deserved the Medal of Honor. And somehow you're the only one who knows the truth.[/size]

[size=2]Silence. Marco looks down at his hands.[/size]

[size=2]COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2]Major Marco. You will stay clear of Congressman Shaw.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yes sir.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]And you will resume your meds, Major. That is an order.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yes sir.[/size]

[size=2]Beat. Marco stands up, to leave, but --[/size]

[size=2]COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2]Major, do you ever take a step back and consider why you've remained at rank for all these years? Missed Bosnia, Afghanistan, Iraqi Freedom. While men of lesser promise and inferior talent have enjoyed the fruits of those campaigns and moved beyond you?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Every day, sir.[/size]


Posted Image

#2 Seph7

Seph7

    Co-founder & Long-time Liev Lover!

  • Global Admin
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Posted 21 October 2011 - 07:26 PM

67INT. STAGE - VICE-PRESIDENTIAL DEBATE (VIDEO)


FAVOR Raymond, at a podium, his VICE PRESIDENTIAL OPPONENT slightly out of focus at his identical podium in the near b.g., mid-rebuttal:

TV67V.P. OPPONENT


... there are still VRF terrorists in Sierra Leone, new terrorist alliances forming in many parts of Asia and South America -- we can't simply, suddenly relinquish our commitment to world leaders who have stood by us.

T.V. MODERATOR

Congressman Shaw -- your rebuttal?

68INT. MARCO'S APARTMENT - NIGHT


Marco on his phone, the t.v. blaring, under:

MARCO

(on the phone)

Hello, Victor? Marco. How's it goin'?

(listens)

Public affairs sucks, my friend. I miss you guys. Listen, favor: guy from my old unit, Melvin, Alfred R. -- I need an

MARCO (CONT'D)

address on him, I think he's here in D.C. ... yeah, go ahead.

Holding, Marco studies the image of Raymond.

TV68RAYMOND/T.V.


-- but meanwhile, somebody's grandmother, in a small American town, is standing in her kitchen -- she's got her medicine bottle in one hand, she's opening the refrigerator with the other. And she's thinking: I can pay for my medicine, or I can pay for my dinner. I can't do both. In America. In America, our mothers and grandmothers shouldn't have to worry about that.

VOICE on the other end of Marco's call, but he's slow to respond -- mesmerized by the "new" Raymond --

MARCO

(on the phone)

Yeah, yeah. I'm here ...

As he starts to write an address --

69OMITTED

70EXT. SKID ROW - WASHINGTON D.C. - NIGHT

RAYMOND (V.O.)

There are gaps in this country. Ugly chasms that we need to bridge ... THE SIDE OF A BUS with a HUGE SKIN of Gov. Arthur and Raymond Shaw and the ARTHUR/SHAW "SECURE TOMORROW" campaign icon -- it SLIDES away, revealing: MARCO -- crosses the street, walks along a row of dilapidated apartments --

RAYMOND (V.O.)

... the gap between rich and poor, between government and people ---- the area is desolate, depopulated, an economic wasteland. Under a crumbling awning and into

71INT. SKID ROW RESIDENTIAL HOTEL - LOBBY - NIGHT

Marco checks a room number he's written under an address on a scrap of paper.

TV71RAYMOND (T.V.)

-- between true security and the notion of feeling safe ...

A NIGHT CLERK sits behind bullet proof glass, watching the televised debates.

RAYMOND (T.V.)

... between what is real and what is not.

DESK CLERK

(about Raymond)

Dontcha love this guy?

72 INT. SKID ROW HOTEL CORRIDOR


At the far end of a long and gloomy hallway, we can see Marco arrive at the door to Melvin's room. He hesitates, then knocks --

MARCO

Al? Al Melvin, it's Marco ...

Nothing. He looks at his watch, turns, walks back down the narrow, high-ceilinged corridor -- haunting sounds of radios and televisions and broken conversations -- he disappears down the stairs --

73 INT. FANCY HOTEL CORRIDOR - NIGHT


Raymond comes down the brightly-lit, elegant hallway, tired, trailing Anderson and his SECRET SERVICE entourage.

RAYMOND

... The enemy is among us. The wolf is at the door ... the fox is in the henhouse ... the weasel is ... the weasel is ...

They take his room keycard from him, open the door --

74 INT. RAYMOND'S HOTEL SUITE - NIGHT74

Anderson and another AGENT move through the suite, securing it -- Raymond losing steam:

RAYMOND

The weasel is a weasel. Frog and Toad Are Friends.

-- returning to the door and handing Raymond his keycard.

The PHONE BEGINS TO RING --

ANDERSON

Sir, we'll be right outside.

RAYMOND

I know. Good night.

He closes the door after them. Breathes out. Glances at his watch. Then crosses to answer the phone:

RAYMOND

You have thirty seconds, Mother.

75 INTERCUT - ELLIE'S SENATE OFFICE - NIGHT

Ellie behind her desk.

ELLIE

Am I this predictable?

RAYMOND

You have no idea.

ELLIE

I'm calling to compliment you, Mr. Grumpy. I thought you were magnificent tonight. So do all the network campaign experts. "Presidential" was a word they used.

Raymond's second line flashes with another call.

ELLIE

This compassionate vigilance thing is working quite well for you. I might have to convert.

RAYMOND

I happen to believe in it.

ELLIE

Of course you do. Now Raymond --

RAYMOND

Goodnight, Mother.

ELLIE

Raymond –

Raymond punches a button and puts his mother on HOLD.

76 INT. ELLIE'S SENATE OFFICE - NIGHT


Ellie listens to the dead air of the other end of her call.

ELLIE

Raymond?

77 INT. RAYMOND'S HOTEL SUITE - NIGHT


Raymond stares --

THE PHONE

Mom on hold, flashing red light.The second call, light fluttering --

RAYMOND

punches the line, lifts the receiver --

RAYMOND

Yes?

VOICE ON THE PHONE

(British accent)

Sergeant Shaw?

RAYMOND

(irritably)

Who is this?

CLOSE on RAYMOND'S EAR --

VOICE ON THE PHONE

Sergeant Raymond Shaw?

Beat. Raymond's puzzled. Cocks his head, eyes searching the corners of the room. SOUND: a distant desert wind, building. Then:

RAYMOND

Yes ...?

CLOSE on RAYMOND'S EYE --

VOICE ON THE PHONE

Raymond Prentiss Shaw?

-- Raymond's senses appear to QUICKEN NOW, as the LIGHTING in the room changes, morphing somehow -- even as SOUNDS of steady percussion, and the zaghareet -- the wailing cry of

the Arab women -- rise out of the wind --

RAYMOND

(eyes alight)

Yes.

-- everything is brighter, sharper, more luminous – more etched than it was just moments ago --

VOICE ON THE PHONE

Listen:

(then)

Enter the bathroom, and go to the closet there.

WIDE - THE SUITE

Raymond moves with tremendous assurance across the living room and down the hallway and into the bathroom --

THE PHONE light flashing, Eleanor on HOLD -- stops --

78 INT. BATHROOM


Double sinks, walk-in shower, and a huge closet which Raymond opens to reveal --

79 INT. CLOSET


A THICK PANEL in the back wall just being unmoored – the RUSHING ROAR of a sandstorm and --

A MAN IN BLACK

steps through, gloves and soft-soled shoes. Raymond just watching as he places a small clam-shell video screen open on the counter -- we can SEE a B&W surveillance view of the CORRIDOR OUTSIDE RAYMOND'S ROOM, with Anderson sitting the night watch, reading. The man gestures Raymond through the closet passageway --

80 INT. A HUGE ROOM BESIDE RAYMOND'S SUITE - CONTINUOUS

-- where Raymond is met by TECHNICIANS in sterile gear, surgical gloves. He's entered some kind of portable, surreal operating theater, filled with monitoring device and computers ... a one-way video-conference camera is aimed at a big examination chair in one corner, surrounded by I.V. racks and more techno-medical equipment. The man who is obviously in charge here, starts a digital timer and turns to face Raymond. It's NOYLE.

NOYLE

Hello Raymond. Do you remember me?

RAYMOND

No sir.

NOYLE

Brilliant.

(to his group)

We have twenty minutes for our little check up from the neck up.

81 EXT. PAY PHONE - NIGHT

Marco on a public phone, across the street from Melvin's residential hotel. Shaken.

MARCO

My God. I'm sorry to hear that. When did it ...

(listens)

Yeah, I know. I know.

(deep breath)

Listen, Mrs. Wilson -- can you tell me if Nathan was ever -- preoccupied – with his experience in Kuwait? Did he ever mention dreams or nightmares ... about what happened ... the firefight, afterward ...

(beat)

-- uh-huh. Sure. No, I understand.

(beat)

Thank you for –

Dial tone. He hangs up. Exhales.

BLINK.

Marco listening to the phone on the other end of his call ring, and ring and ring. Dull HISS of the city.

BLINK.

Another call.

MARCO (O.S.)

... no, Mr. Villalobos, I'm just -- Army's got me running statistics on stress disorders, I'm trying to gather information on my old squad members ... yes sir --

A84 INT. NOYLE'S HIDDEN HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT


Raymond sits in a chair, rigged up with wires and tubes (much like he was ten years ago) -- a TRANSLUCENT BOX around his face overlaid with a METRIC GRID, his head held motionless by a semi-circular BRACE, curved calibration offering precise positioning for a MICRO-DRILL that Noyle moves into place -- and then a long, tiny drill bit WHIRS DOWN through STERILE LATEX stretched very tight across Raymond's head -- -- and plunges precisely and effortlessly through Raymond's skull, then STOPS -- he has no reaction, feels nothing -- LCD screens -- show a VIRTUAL MAP OF RAYMOND'S BRAIN, in a full range of primary colors -- sections morphing as thoughts and memories race through his mind, as

MINISCULE, INTERWOVEN WIRES -- are threaded down through the HOLLOW core of the surgical drill, deep into Raymond's brain. Noyle plays to one of the cameras:

NOYLE

No decay, no slippage. Everything appears to be in flawless working condition.

(then)

Raymond can you remember the deaths of Mavole and Baker?

RAYMOND

Yes.

The LCD SCREENS show activity in areas of Raymond's brain.

NOYLE

Describe it.

84 INT. SKID ROW RESIDENTIAL HOTEL - NIGHT


Marco knocking at Melvin's door again.

MARCO

... Al? You in there?

Still nothing. He checks the hallway, takes an Army utility knife from his pocket and forces the lock --

85 INT. MELVIN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT


The light switch doesn't work. Click, click. Eerie shudder of neon from the sign on the building, shapes crowd the room, claustrophobic ... ... Marco has a PENLIGHT -- he turns it on, sweeps in front of him with its weak beam: THE ROOM -- stacked floor to ceiling with old newspapers, magazines, and HUNDREDS AND HUNDREDS OF NOTEBOOKS, covering nearly every available surface. Marco picks up a notebook. Moves to a desk and sits. Opens the book --

86 OMITTED


87 OMITTED


88 BEAM OF THE PENLIGHT aimed down at pages filled with CRUDE DRAWINGS OF BRAINS/TOMATOES -- number-gibberish (cross-sections, size and weight parameters, and growth sequences)

-- AMERICAN FLAGS --

-- in the margins, many attempts to capture likenesses of DR. NOYLE AND THE MYSTERIOUS ARABIC WOMAN, repeatedly crossed out, never right.

FB88 FLASH: DREAMSCAPE


Noyle turning toward us, eyes bright --

RESUME - MARCO

-- under the headline WHAT HAPPENED, extremely small, cramped handwriting that goes on for pages -- "The recon ends without incident, and we are heading back to forward command..."

RAYMOND (V.O.)

(fades up:)

... we're heading back to forward command. The night is clear. Stars but no moon --

Marco closes the book, opens another journal. Same drawings. Same title page. Same cramped writing, that begins exactly the same way --

89TIGHT - RAYMOND (STREAMING VIDEO)89

The video feed from Noyle's hidden hotel room cameras, digital, herky-jerky:

TV89RAYMOND (VIDEO)

-- We're engaged unexpectedly by ground forces with helicopter support. In the ensuing firefight, Bobby Baker gets himself separated to the left. Mavole goes after him ...

90INT. MELVIN'S ROOM - NIGHT


Marco reading these same words, which Melvin has scrawled in his journals:

RAYMOND (V.O.)

... An incoming mortar shell kills both of them instantly, before I am able to --

FB90 FLASH CUT: A GIANT MONITOR

Marco's whole squad, staring at a digital screen animation of Raymond's one-man military fire-fight -- a CGI Hummer with a flaming tire, Raymond heroically spewing machine gun fire at the enemy, exactly as we've seen it in Marco's retelling:

THE TEAM

(reciting together:)

-- instantly before Sergeant Shaw is able to locate and eliminate the source of the ordnance ...

FB90A SHOCK CUT: REFLECTED IN A MIRROR - MARCO


Strapped to a chair back in the dreamscape, head back, his mouth pried open and a hypodermic needle plunged deep up into his palette -- thin electrode wires splayed across his face and neck -- Noyle's just behind him --

TAPED VOICE

(distant, foreign, precise:)

... locate and eliminate the source of --

BLINK.

91INT. MELVIN'S ROOM - MARCO


flips compulsively ahead through the notebook, lit by the harsh beam of the penlight. Endless, repetitive writing. FEVERISHLY RENDERED IMPRESSIONS of the dreamscape, medical apparatus, choppers, guns -- MORE and MORE images of Raymond Shaw -- of Raymond strangling Mavole ---- and A DRAWING OF A MAN WHO MIGHT BE MARCO, unfinished, uncertain except for the eyes -- Marco with a GUN in his hand --

FB91 FLASH: BOBBY BAKER

-- as a bullet hole is punched in his forehead – FALLING AWAY -- with a look of astonishment on his face – blood just beginning to seep from the wound --

RESUME - MELVIN'S ROOM - MARCO

he drops the notebook like it's on fire --

TIGHT - ON THE FLOOR - THE NOTEBOOK

-- SKETCHES of Bobby Baker with a bullet hole in his forehead --

MARCO

-- topples the chair as he stands up -- and then:

THE BARE, OVERHEAD LIGHTBULB IN THE ROOM

shudders to life -- dies -- glows again -- brighter -- AND

NOW MARCO SEES:

THE WALLS OF MELVIN'S APARTMENT are COVERED with DRAWINGS and SCRAWLINGS and newspaper clippings and patterns made with paper plates and empty Noodle containers -- the crazy patterns of the tiles from Noyle's dream lab -- it's as if Marco has entered the mind of a mad man -- everything from the notebooks, and more, much more -- dominated by tormented, repeated images of Raymond Shaw ---- Marco is stunned -- PUSHING IN -- as a painstakingly rendered DRAWING OF RAYMOND SHAW fills the screen: wild-eyed with SNAKES writhing out of his head, Medusa-like, EVOKING THE WIRES AND TUBES FROM

MARCO'S NIGHTMARE DREAMSCAPE --

92TIGHT - NOYLE (VIDEO STREAMING)


Pixels blown out and distorted, streaming insanely – Noyle stares right into camera, intent:

TV92NOYLE


Questions?

SCREAM OF A TRAIN.

93INT. BULLET TRAIN TO NEW YORK - DAY

Marco sits at a window, eyes closed, head pressed to the glass, the world just a blur beyond him. He opens his eyes,

SEES:

LAURENT TOKAR

sitting down across from him. Smiling.

LAURENT

(French accent)

Is this seat taken?

SKIP

94INT. BULLET TRAIN TO NEW YORK - DAY

Marco opens his eyes -- head pressed to a window, the world a blur beyond him -- SEES:

Nothing. An empty seat opposite him. Laurent was a dream. Marco looks around, self-conscious, and --

THROUGH THE SEATS - A WOMAN'S FACE

staring back at him. Not enough to tell much more than she's pretty. Marco looks away, out the window. Then back. She's gone. Another dream?

WOMAN'S VOICE (ROSIE)

Maryland's a beautiful state.

Marco jumps -- looks. The pretty woman is sitting down opposite him, folding and pushing aside a newspaper with the headline: WHITE HOUSE INSISTS WAR ON TERROR IS STILL WINNABLE. COST OF PERUVIAN CAMPAIGN HITS $100 BILLION.

Below the fold: ANGRY MOB KILLS MUSLIM STUDENT AT YALE.

MARCO

This is Delaware.

ROSIE

I know. But, Maryland, it's a beautiful state anyway.

He's staring at her, trying to figure out --

ROSIE

Paper or plastic.

MARCO

What?

ROSIE

From the grocery store. You were wondering where, we, you know – and right at the check-out stand, "paper or plastic," that's me. I see you all the time. Bennett Marco. Checks from the First National Bank, and you always put your spare change into the March of Dimes thing.

(beat)

Romance novels, instant noodles, No-Doz and tomatoes.

(Marco frowns)

Anyway, I'm on vacation, holiday in the City and so forth, I saw you sitting here ... I thought, okay, girl -- it's now or never.

Beat.

ROSIE

You headed to New York City?

MARCO

Yeah.

ROSIE

Business?

MARCO

No. Guy I knew ... in the Army. He's in politics now. We've kinda lost touch.

(awkward beat, then)

What's your name?

ROSIE

Eugenie.

MARCO

'Scuse me?

ROSIE

Yeah. Crazy French pronunciation and all.

MARCO

It's pretty.

ROSIE

Thanks.

MARCO

I guess your friends call you Jenny.

ROSIE

Not yet they haven't, thank God. But you can call me Jenny.

MARCO

What do your friends call you?

ROSIE

Rosie. My full name is Eugenie Rose. I've always liked the Rosie part better. Eugenie is, well, fragile.

MARCO

Still. When I asked you your name, you said it was Eugenie.

ROSIE

Yeah. Well. Maybe 'cause I was feeling fragile. At the time.

Beat. Their eyes lock. Marco blinks –

FB94 FLASH: PFC. BOBBY BAKER -- stares back at him from where Rosie was sitting. Bullet hole in his forehead and a small, lost smile. Reaching out to him --

BLINK.

ROSIE -- as before. Slight look of puzzlement, because -- MARCO -- is on his feet, rattled, moving out to the aisle --

MARCO

Excuse me.

-- and LURCHING toward the back of the train, nearly losing his balance as he goes through the sliding doors.

95INT. TRAIN CORRIDOR - AS BEFORE


-- Marco catches himself, hands against the bulkhead wall near the bathroom. Another PASSENGER squeezes past him, headed in the opposite direction. Marco tries the bathroom door. Locked. OCCUPIED.

Marco reaches into his pocket for a plastic vial of medicine. Tries to shake one of the TINY PILLS OUT, but -- A BURLY PASSENGER in the bathroom emerges and the door SMACKS Marco hard across the back -- -- THE PILLS scatter onto the floor --

MARCO

OW dammit --

BIG MAN

Sorry. I didn't know you

MARCO

It's okay.It's okay. were –

-- Marco's DOWN ON HIS KNEES, struggling to gather the pills together and put them back in the plastic vial. The big man goes.

ROSIE

sinks down next to him. Calm. Deftly plucking the pills from the floor.

ROSIE

My mother would tell you to wash these.

Marco looks up at her blankly. She takes the vial, caps it, gives it back.

ROSIE

I didn't mean to upset you.

MARCO

It's not you, it's me. I'm not – my head --

(gestures uselessly)

-- nothing's ...

(stares at her)

I wish I smoked.

ROSIE

It's way overrated.

They stare at each other. Then:

MARCO

Rosie, I'm gonna go in here, wash my face, take my pill, and get myself together.

Marco ducks into the bathroom and shuts the door.

96INT. TRAIN MEN'S ROOM - DAY

Marco cups water in his hands and smears it on his face, wiping it away with a paper towel. He comes up looking in the mirror, avoiding his own gaze as --

IN THE MIRROR: THE DOOR OPENS

and a man comes partway in -- now it's Dr. Noyle. Marco pivots -- no Noyle. The door is shut, locked. He's all alone. Losing his mind.

97INT. TRAIN CORRIDOR - ROSIE

Lost in thought. Faint smile. She puts her hand flat against the door, then turns and heads back to her seat.

98INT. TRAIN MEN'S ROOM - MARCO

Turns to the mirror again ... and again SEES Dr. Noyle behind him, smiling:

NOYLE

Hello Captain. Do you remember me?

KNOCKING at the door, a pass-key rattling in it --

99INT. TRAIN CORRIDOR - MARCO

emerges from the bathroom to find an irritated CONDUCTOR now awkwardly trying to extract his key from the door, and Rosie waiting.

CONDUCTOR ROSIE

Are you okay, sir? Ben?

MARCO

... Yeah.

ROSIE

Jesus. You've been in here twenty minutes. I thought you'd fallen off.

Marco stares at Rosie. Twenty minutes? The train SHUDDERS to a halt --

100 INT. PENN STATION - DAY

Marco comes up the escalator, into a SEA OF COMMUTERS. Momentarily lost. Rosie is behind him, a moment later with her bag, and --

ROSIE

I'm gonna get a cab, you want me to drop you somewhere?

MARCO

No. I'm okay, thanks.

ROSIE

Your friend gonna meet you here?

MARCO

No.

Beat.

ROSIE

El Dorado 59970.

(off Marco's frown)

My cell phone, in case you -- you know. I like to say it the old way -- can you remember the number, or should I write it on your chest with a sharpie?

MARCO

(small smile)

I'll remember.

Beat.

ROSIE

You're sweating.

MARCO

What?

Marco feels his shirt -- soaked. Long beat. She reaches out and feels his forehead. No fever. Sizing him up.

ROSIE

Listen. You got a place to go and get freshened up?

101 INT. ROSIE'S COUSIN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Rosie lets Marco in. It's incredibly cramped, everything in one room, window facing a brick wall, lots of play posters.

ROSIE

-- It's my cousin's apartment. She's in Cleveland with the road company of 'Mamma Mia.' There's ... a view of the park ... if you go out on the fire escape and kinda ... tilt your head ...

Marco puts down the suitcases and waits in the middle of the room while Rosie takes off her coat, turns on some lights.

ROSIE

I'm nervous. I'm sorry. I yak when I get nervous.

MARCO

Me, I get quiet.

Another awkward beat. She stands there. Studying him.

ROSIE

You okay?

MARCO

Dreams, I've been having these –

Catches himself. That's just how Melvin said it.

ROSIE

Is that what happened on the train?

MARCO

Sort of.

Beat.

MARCO

I could be dreaming you.

ROSIE

What if you are?

MARCO

You'd be the best dream I've had in a long time, Rosie.

Beat. Rosie smiles at him.

ROSIE

If that's a line, Ben Marco, it kinda worked.

102 INT. BATHROOM - SHOWER - MARCO


The water cascades down on him. He feels around on his back where the door on the train whacked him -- feels something on his shoulder -- a bump -- CAMERA CURLS around as he twists, contorts, can't see it, but feels it and --

ROSIE'S VOICE

(distant)

Ben?

TIGHT - MARCO'S HAND

turning off the shower, hard --

103 RESUME - ROSIE'S COUSIN'S APARTMENT

She's sitting, watching the closed bathroom door. No noise from the shower.

ROSIE

Earth to Ben -- how're you doing in there?

104 INT. BATHROOM - MARCO

hyper, rummaging through the vanity, searching for -- pair of cuticle scissors, tweezers, anything sharp -- a little basket of sample perfumes CRASHES into the sink --

ROSIE (O.S.)

(KNOCKING loudly)

Ben, what's going on -- are you okay --?

Marco finds a razor blade -- twisting it clumsily in his fingers to reach the slight bump on his back he can only barely see in the mirror --

105 INTERCUT - ROSIE - OUTSIDE THE DOOR

-- Rosie's KNOCKING HARDER, NOW.

ROSIE

Ben, I need you to open this door. Okay? Just for a sec.

(beat)

You're scaring me. Ben --?

106 INT. BATHROOM - MARCO

He SLASHES at the lump. Blood blossoms. SLASHES again, oblivious to pain.

ROSIE

BEN MARCO!?

PUSH IN as Ben presses the blade sharply down into his skin ... cutting a slit through which the blunt edge of AN EXTREMELY TINY OBLONG THING appears, like a grain of rice. It slides out into Ben's bloody fingers.

107 Rosie's PUSHING against the door, trying to force it open.

108 MARCO


puts his trembling hand under the faucet, grips the thing between two fingers, turns on the water --

109 THE DOOR - ROSIE

breaks in -- sees the BLOOD smeared down Marco's back --

ROSIE

Oh Jesus.

-- and the razor in his hand -- she pushes him away --

MARCO

-- loses his grip on the oblong thing before he can even get a good look at it, and it goes into the sink --

MARCO

Poop. Oh no NO ...

-- and down the drain -- Marco twists the faucet off, and

DIVES TO FLOOR LEVEL - UNDER THE SINK where he puts both hands on the fittings of the u-joint trap and struggles to get them loose -- succeeding finally, water spewing everywhere -- -- the trap falls to the floor, disgorging soap chips, slimy hairballs and pipe corrosion and water ... but not the thing he wants. It's --

MARCO

-- Gone. Poop.

MARCO -- rests his head on the cool tile, eyes far away. Defeated. Rosie crouches next to him. A little scared. She blots the blood from his back with the towel, and then presses her ice pack against it.

MARCO

Tell me you saw that.

Rosie just stares at him.

MARCO

(hollow)

You didn't. You didn't see it.

ROSIE

See what?

Marco closes his eyes.

MARCO

Proof.

ROSIE

Of what?

MARCO

My sanity.

110 EXT. ISOLATED WAREHOUSE - ON THE HUDSON RIVER - DAY

Stark building with a huge parking lot and only one car parked in it. A CAB pulls through the open gate, stops. Marco gets out.

DELP (V.O.)

Implant delusions. Number three on the paranoid top ten list.

111 INT. WAREHOUSE STAIRWAY - DAY

Ben and RICHARD DELP ascend at a good clip. Delp wears a lab coat, trappings of a medical researcher:

MARCO

This wasn't a delusion.

DELP

That's what they all say, Marco.

(then)

Some wicked Poop got sprayed on you guys during Desert Storm. Besides all the depleted uranium, I mean ...

He stops, unlocks a door, and they go --

112 INT. DELP'S RESEARCH LAB - SKY BOOTH - DAY

A narrow, glassed-in space with a cluster of monitoring equipment against the wall of darkened windows. Fluorescent lights flicker on, revealing a CAVERNOUS SPACE BELOW, in which an intricate MAZE of CAGES contains unhappy, SCREAMING research MONKEYS with Orwellian stainless-steel hardware and antennae bolted to their bisected skulls. Strange SOUNDS and various LIGHTING EFFECTS emerge from the different sections.

DELP

... I personally know of a coupla Rangers who swear that they see only in tertiary colors now --

MARCO

-- Delp.

DELP

-- and can pick up sports talk radio in their cortical block if they get too close to a Con-Ed transformer.

MARCO

-- Delp. It's not GWS.

Delp has known Marco too long, and too well, not to take him seriously.

DELP

[size=2]A dozen years ago, the Army did this tiny implantable I.D. thing -- you could imbed it under the skin, then scan it like a bar code for medical emergency information, blood-type, DNA. Pentagon ordered up half a million, and stuck about five thousand experimentally into high-risk soldiers and infantry. But the scanners proved skittish and field hospitals hated 'em, so the whole deal got eighty-sixed and forgotten.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]The Army never put one in me.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]That you know of, man.That you know of.[/size]

[size=2](then)[/size]

[size=2]How'd you find me?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO (V.O.)[/size]

[size=2]I looked under Mad Scientists in the yellow pages -- there was a full page ad.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]Ha ha.[/size]

[size=2]Marco stares down into a big pit. Among the racks of equipment are two primate-sized stainless-steel beds with restraints and I.V. trees waiting.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]You seriously believe somebody's messed with your mother board.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]What are you studying here, Delp?[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]Fear.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]For the Agency?[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]Nah, CIA cut me loose in '97 during the Macedonian debacle. Now I got this little grant from Wal-Mart.[/size]

[size=2]Wal-Mart? Fear? Marco looks at the monkeys. Doesn't want to know any more. He shifts his gaze back to Delp. Studies him. Then:[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Look, Delp. My experiences during the war, in Kuwait ... feel dreamlike to me. And my dreams? About what happened? Feel as real as you and me, here, right now.[/size]

[size=2] Delp just waits.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]It's like ... I feel like somewhere along the line, I've been ... brainwashed. Or[/size][size=2] something. You know? All scrambled up.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]We've all been brainwashed, Marco. Religion, advertising, television. Politics. We accept what's normal because we're told it's normal and we crave normalcy. Hell, look at the[/size]

[size=2]Germans under Hitler. Disco, in the seventies.[/size]

[size=2](beat)[/size]

[size=2]And if you're really worried about somebody imbedding electric probes and computer chips in your brain to make you do things -- it's horseshit, man. Turns out Pavlov had it right from the get go. Dogs and all. A little ECT and sleep deprivation will do the trick for a[/size][size=2] fraction of the price. Ask the Uzbeks. And you would remember it.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]What about my dreams?[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2](shrugs)[/size]

[size=2]What if all this is the fucking dream and you're still back in Kuwait?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]You're not helping me.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]I am. You're not helping yourself. Reality is consensual, man. You just gotta prove it up. Or play it out.[/size]

[size=2]113 OMITTED
[/size]


[size=2]114 OMITTED
[/size]


[size=2]115 NEWS FOOTAGE - AIRPORT ARRIVAL (VIDEO)
[/size]


[size=2]TV115 Raymond emerges from a private jet, waves to a crowd of supporters behind a chain link fence --[/size]

[size=2]116 EXT. TETERBORO AIRPORT - TARMAC - CHARTER ARRIVALS - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Same. Raymond, his handlers, his Secret Service escort walk a gauntlet of news cameras, REPORTERS lob questions from behind a barrier:[/size]

[size=2]REPORTER #2[/size]

[size=2]Congressman Shaw! Why do you and Gov. Arthur oppose deploying troops in Indonesia?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]We can't clean up the world with dirty hands.[/size]


[size=2]MOVING WITH - MARCO[/size][size=2] as he keeps pace with Raymond, walking, moving behind the reporters, weaving through the crowd.[/size]

[size=2]REPORTER #2REPORTER #3[/size]

[size=2]What about your mother's Is your mother helping or allegation that a nuclear hurting your campaign? attack on this country from a secret alliance of rogue states is certain within two years?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Guys, I gave up a long time ago trying to second guess my mother. I'm just surprised the rest of you haven't.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Do you ever dream about Kuwait?[/size]

[size=2]Heads turning to find Marco, folder under his arm – strange looks -- Secret Service poised to react, but Raymond slows, looks -- sees Marco. A cloud passing over his features:[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I can never remember my dreams.[/size]

[size=2]MORE QUESTIONS lobbed out, overlapping, but Raymond ignores them. Marco pushes through as Raymond assures Anderson:[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]-- it's okay. I know him, it's okay.[/size]

[size=2]117 INT. LIMOUSINE - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Raymond and Marco in the back seat facing forward. Anderson and campaign handler MIRELLA FREEMAN sit facing them, talking low, on a cell phone, as:[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I saw Mavole's Mom and Dad in St. Louis. I still visit them -- and Baker's mom -- when I can. Do you keep up with anybody from the unit besides Al Melvin?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I don't keep up with Al Melvin. He found me.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Why did you ask me about Kuwait?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2](pleasantly:)[/size]

[size=2]I didn't. I asked you about your dreams. At the fundraiser -- why did you say you needed to talk to me?[/size]

[size=2]MIRELLA[/size]

[size=2](covers the phone)[/size]

[size=2]Mr. Shaw, excuse me -- they want to know if you'll do an interview with Larry King at six.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]No.[/size]

[size=2](to Marco)[/size]

[size=2]What do you want from me, Captain?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Major. Forty minutes of your time.[/size]

[size=2]MIRELLA[/size]

[size=2]No to the interview, or no to six?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]He wants to talk about my mother. No.[/size]

[size=2] He looks at Marco --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Private time.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Well, we've got about five minutes, right now. And this is as private as it gets for me anymore, so ...[/size]

[size=2] Beat. He waits. Anderson staring at Marco.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]There are these dreams that ... some of the men in our unit have been having.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Including you?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]It's a question of what actually happened the night our patrol was attacked --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]That's easy.[/size]

[size=2](almost automatic)[/size]

[size=2]RPG incoming. Mortar fire, we're ambushed. Total chaos. I can't locate Baker or Mavole. You're knocked unconscious -- I find you and pull you to safety and then --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2](cuts him off)[/size]

[size=2]-- Yeah, that's how I remember it, too.[/size]

[size=2](beat)[/size]

[size=2]But I dream something else.[/size]

[size=2]The limo pulls to a curb --[/size]

[size=2]118 EXT. ARTHUR/SHAW N.Y. CAMPAIGN OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON[/size]

[size=2]Through the windows SEE a crowded clutter of desks, phone volunteers, stacks of pamphlets. A giant SECURE TOMORROW logo looms above, flanked by beaming likenesses of Robert Arthur and Raymond Shaw. Anderson comes out and opens the limo door for Raymond. Marco struggles out behind him:[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Am I in your dreams?[/size][size=2] [/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yeah.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Doing what?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2](evasive)[/size]

[size=2]-- You know.[/size]

[size=2]Raymond steps just outside the entrance to his office.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Saving everybody?[/size]

[size=2]PEDESTRIANS pass between them on the crowded sidewalk.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]It's more complicated than that.[/size]

[size=2]Marco reaches into his folder, pulls out one of Melvin's notebooks --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]People just don't have the same dreams accidentally --[/size]

[size=2](holds out the notebook)[/size]

[size=2]-- Melvin made drawings, he wrote down what he dreamed, this is one of his notebooks -- it's all in here.[/size]

[size=2]-- and Raymond's staring at the notebook without taking it, the way Marco once did with Melvin. Anderson and Mirella -- the staffers in the office -- are all staring at Marco the same way the Boy Scouts once stared at Melvin.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I don't have dreams, Captain.[/size]

[size=2](then, gently:)[/size]

[size=2]Maybe you should ... see somebody – talk to somebody who specializes in this kind[/size] of thing --

[size=2][/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I've been to doctors.[/size]

[size=2]... which is exactly what Melvin said to him.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Okay. Okay, I'm sorry.[/size]

[size=2]Marco nods again, numb, makes a vague resigned gesture.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I'm not crazy, Shaw.[/size]

[size=2]He jams the notebook back into his folder, starts to walk away.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2](calls after)[/size]

[size=2]Captain --[/size]

[size=2](then)[/size]

[size=2]-- Major.[/size]

[size=2](then)[/size]

[size=2]Ben.[/size]

[size=2]Marco stops, turns.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Are you hungry?[/size]

[size=2]119 INT. RAYMOND'S PRIVATE OFFICE - CAMPAIGN HQ - DUSK
[/size]


[size=2]Huge posters featuring Raymond's face, emblazoned with SECURE TOMORROW, stacked against the wall. A desk covered with papers and enough take-out Chinese food for ten people,[/size][size=2] and Raymond sits behind it, nursing a glass of wine, and pointedly ignoring Melvin's notebook, while:[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I kill Mavole?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]It's a dream --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]No.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]-- could mean something else.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]No.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]-- could be I'm just supposed to think you did.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]-- I killed the enemy. I didn't know them, either. So it was okay. And, anyway, I remember what we did in Kuwait, I remember it perfectly. But now that you mention it, I don't remember doing it ... exactly.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Maybe you didn't.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]NO. What a thought.[/size]

[size=2]Now he picks up the dream book. Marco watches. Raymond flips through the pages for a moment, dismissively. Then stops at something Melvin has drawn. Frowns. Raises his[/size][size=2] eyebrows. Closes it, sets it down:[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Life is so bizarre, isn't it? This absurd campaign, the sordid world of politics, my whole public life and persona -- sometimes, occasionally, for an instant, the fog clears and I look and I think, what am I doing? I mean, what the Love am I doing? Posing and grinning like a goddamn sock puppet, shaking hands with total strangers who must be blind if[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND (CONT'D)[/size]

[size=2]they can't see what I am, at the core. What my mother has made me.[/size]

[size=2]Raymond looks steadily at Marco ... who nods, interested:[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]A Prentiss. Ferociously, a Prentiss -- but not a Shaw, God forbid -- I was molded by cold hard hands, every detail of my existence preordained. Can you even imagine, Ben, how it would feel never to have a say in what your life would be? I was twenty years old before[/size]

[size=2]I had a friend -- no, worse, a girlfriend -- well, almost -- but, yes, a friend, or I thought so -- outside my mother's circle of approved encounters -- and it didn't -- she wouldn't – precipitating my one act of rebellion, storming off and enlisting --[/size]

[size=2](grimaces)[/size]

[size=2]-- in the Army. Which, ironically, only served ultimately to pad my gilded Prentiss resume. You know: "fluent in five languages, Phi Beta Kappa, Congressional Medal of Honor, blah blah blah."[/size]

[size=2](beat)[/size]

[size=2]And after the war I came back to her. And the family legacy. This. Mother calls it, "fulfilling my Manifest Prentiss Destiny."[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Why did you come back, Raymond? What happened?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]What?[/size]

[size=2]Seeming startled, Raymond's reverie is broken. His eyes harden as he refocuses on Marco.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Weren't you listening? Mother happened.[/size]

[size=2](then)[/size]

[size=2]You know, the truth is, I hate it. I've always despised it.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2](lost)[/size]

[size=2]Which?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]The medal. The cloying adulation of the little people. Your pitiful jealousy --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Who said I was jealous?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I don't have the dreams, Ben.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]How can you not remember saving the unit?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I do. I said I did.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]You said you don't remember doing it.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Ha ha, don't mix me up, I'm tired, and -- Fine. It's like this. It's as if I know what will happen, Ben, but I never get to the part where I feel that it actually did happen. But I think that's probably perfectly normal.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Did you ever talk to anybody about this little discrepancy?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]What? No. Who would I ask? My old Army "buddies," who love and adore me for saving their pathetically unimportant -- present company excluded -- asses?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]No. You ask Army Intelligence.[/size]

[size=2](getting excited)[/size]

[size=2]Look, we can go together, tomorrow. You tell them what you just told me, everything you do remember, what you don't "exactly" remember, about Kuwait, let 'em run some tests on you --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I'm sure the press would have a field day with that.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Raymond. They put an implant in me. I found it yesterday. Maybe they put one in you.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2](horrified)[/size]

[size=2]Nobody's put anything in me.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Great. Let's prove it. We can go get an x-ray -- we can check it right now –[/size]

[size=2]Marco moves toward him, Raymond backs away --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I want to be supportive of you, Ben, I do, but --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Just check your back, Raymond --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]-- this can wait until after the election.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]What are you afraid of? See if there's a bump.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]You should leave. This is not, this is not --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]-- just check --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2](without checking)[/size]

[size=2]There's nothing there![/size]

[size=2]Marco LUNGES at Raymond -- they fall, together, over the desk, onto the floor -- Chinese food scattering.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Somebody was in your head, with big steel-toe boots, a couple of cable cutters and[/size][size=2] a chainsaw, and they went to town! Neurons got wasted, circuits rewired, brain cells obliterated –[/size]

[size=2]KNOCKING at the door:[/size]

[size=2]ANDERSON (O.S.)[/size]

[size=2]Congressman Shaw?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]-- you don't even know what they did! You don't -- you can't CONCEIVE what they did to you -- and you're worried about some lame-ass reporters!?[/size]

[size=2]-- where Marco (stronger, better-trained) wraps Raymond in a headlock, RIPS Raymond's shirt from the shoulder --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]If I'm wrong they can put me the Love away --[/size]

[size=2]ANDERSON (O.S.)[/size]

[size=2]-- are you okay?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Ben --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]-- there -- there's -- something –[/size]

[size=2]INSISTENT KNOCKING at the door. Marco CLAWS AT THE SKIN on RAYMOND'S BACK -- sinks his teeth in -- -- Raymond shakes him off, and MARCO slams into the wall. The office door BANGS open -- Anderson and other agents SWARM Marco -- there's blood smeared on Marco's mouth, his jaws are clenched --[/size]

[size=2]ANDERSON[/size]

[size=2](disbelief)[/size]

[size=2]He bit him.[/size]

[size=2](at Raymond)[/size]

[size=2]Sir, did he bite you?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]No.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO -- shoved to the floor -- twisted -- handcuffed -- blood SMEARING across the carpet -- his eyes wild with adrenaline and fear -- RAYMOND -- his hand goes to his back -- his eyes LOCK with Marco's for an instant -- then Marco is hustled out the door.[/size]

[size=2]ANDERSON[/size]

[size=2]Sir --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2][/size]

[size=2]NOTHING HAPPENED![/size]

[size=2]Horrified campaign workers crane necks to see inside. Mute with shock, Raymond pulls his hand away from his back. Hides the blood.[/size]

[size=2]120OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]A121 EXT. MANHATTAN - STATUE OF LIBERTY - DAY[/size]

[size=2]The giant lady is gilded by sunlight, virgin and unapproachable.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE (V.O.)[/size]

[size=2]You want to help him?[/size]

[size=2]121 INT. ELEGANT MANHATTAN RESTAURANT - PRIVATE ROOM - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Raymond and Ellie. Through the wavy glass we see a crowded dining room, the ever-present Secret Service.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]No. That'd be political suicide. Of course not. I want you to help him.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]I can't even imagine why.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Because I feel sorry for him. Because I said I would.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]What should we do? Make him a General?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Mother. Look. My campaign people are getting a restraining order, he's going on all the security watch-lists -- but I won't lock him up. I'm not pressing charges.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]What?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]It's complicated -- I don't know. It's just complicated and I don't want to talk about it, I want to get back to the campaign and focus on --[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]You don't actually believe his story?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]No. But he does. And he's a fine soldier and ... my friend. And if his slim hold on sanity requires that I tolerate his delusions until he can get help, I'll do it. It doesn't diminish me. And I'm not afraid of him.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]This is why voters love you. Your humanity and everything. I've never projected humanity.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Yes I think telling people you want to "round up all the towel heads and throw them in a deep pit" probably tips your hand.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2](laughs)[/size]

[size=2]That was a joke, you dreadful boy.[/size]

[size=2]A BUSBOY delivers Ellie her meal: a thick steak stuffed with viscous grey -- off Raymond's disgust:[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]Carpetbag steak.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Stuffed. With oysters?[/size]

[size=2]She starts to cut meat into child-like, bite-sized pieces and put them on a side plate, for Raymond.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]The steak part is mostly for you. Doesn't it look yummy?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]My God. In the world's literature of food could there possibly be a more vulgar dish?[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]And eating it is an absolute sexual experience. Try some.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Promise me that you'll help him.[/size]

[size=2]Ellie stops, sighs, puts her fork down and reaches for the oversized-satchel that doubles as her briefcase and purse.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]Oh, Raymond, how much do you really know about your friend?[/size]

[size=2]Ellie finds two thick files and plops them down, as punctuation, in front of Raymond.[/size]

[size=2]122 EXT. FEDERAL BUILDING (MANHATTAN) - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Establishing --[/size]

[size=2]PHOTOGRAPHS - SCENE PHOTOS - AL MELVIN'S DEAD BODY[/size]

[size=2]being pulled from the chilly waters of the Potomac. Some clinical AUTOPSY glossies.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO (V.O.)[/size]

[size=2]Al Melvin ...[/size]

[size=2]123 INT. FEDERAL BUILDING - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
[/size]


[size=2]Marco stares, troubled and sad, at bleak photographs of Al Melvin's bloated, waterlogged corpse.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I went to talk to him. But he wasn't there.[/size]

[size=2]Across from him are three impatient FBI AGENTS (RAMIREZ, GOLDRING and JONAS). Ramirez has the notebook Marco took from Melvin's. Goldring pushes a tiny digital tape recorder[/size]

[size=2]closer to Marco:[/size]

[size=2]AGENT GOLDRING[/size]

[size=2]Talk about what?[/size]

[size=2]Marco hesitates -- looks to Lt. Col. Howard, who sits grimly, off the one side, with Col. Garret.[/size]

[size=2]AGENT GOLDRING[/size]

[size=2]Dreams?[/size]

[size=2]A lone woman, SPECIAL AGENT VOLK, sits in a distant corner on a folding chair. She's implacable, staring intently at Marco. Ramirez holds up the notebook -- a page of crazy[/size][size=2] drawings and text.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yeah, there are hundreds more of those in his apartment. Did your people check out[/size][size=2] his place --?[/size]

[size=2]AGENT JONAS[/size]

[size=2]Colonel Garret kindly showed us the file on you, Marco, you're the Poop: Special Forces. Rangers. Delta.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I wanted to talk to Corporal Melvin about some unanswered questions involving our[/size][size=2] reconnaissance mission in Kuwait, back in '91 --[/size]

[size=2]AGENT JONAS[/size]

[size=2](talks over him)[/size]

[size=2]And he wasn't there, so, what – you thought it'd be okay to break in and wait[/size][size=2] for him?[/size]

[size=2]Marco carefully, respectfully stacks the photographs of Melvin and turns them over. Exchanges a glance with the female agent.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2] (at Howard)[/size]

[size=2]I know this game. Will you explain to them that I know this game?[/size]

[size=2]AGENT RAMIREZ[/size]

[size=2]Oh right. Army Intelligence. Isn't that an oxymoron?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yeah. Kinda like 'special agent.'[/size]

[size=2]COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2]Cut it out, Major.[/size]

[size=2]AGENT GOLDRING[/size]

[size=2]What's your obsession with Raymond Shaw?[/size]

[size=2]AGENT RAMIREZ[/size]

[size=2]Man of his dreams.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Listen, you might want to advise your ME to check for an implant in Corporal[/size]

[size=2]Melvin's back -- under the skin, just shy of the scapula, left side ... if he's not[/size]

[size=2]looking for it, he won't find it.Implant. The Feds just stare at him. Like he's nuts.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I didn't have anything to do with Corporal Melvin's death.[/size]

[size=2]AGENT JONAS[/size]

[size=2]Yeah, well, that's your opinion, but judging from your file here, apparently you don't know your Poop from your oatmeal, my friend –[/size]

[size=2]Marco snaps, spins out of his chair and lunges at Jonas -- Lt. Col. Howard and the other agents step between the two men -- pull them apart --[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2] (re: Jonas)[/size]

[size=2]Get this man out of here.[/size]

[size=2]AGENT JONAS[/size]

[size=2] (taunting Marco)[/size]

[size=2]Go ahead, nutball. Try it.[/size]

[size=2]Marco PUNCHES the agent so hard it knocks him down to the floor between the other two.[/size]

[size=2]AGENT JONAS[/size]

[size=2]-- He hit me! Love![/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]He said I could.[/size]

[size=2]Colonel Garret shoves Marco back into a chair, stays in the middle of the fracas, while --[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]Okay, OKAY --! That's enough. Gentlemen, I need a moment with Major Marco. Now.[/size]

[size=2]The Federal Agents retreat with their bloodied-nose, cold- cocked colleague, door slamming behind them.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE (V.O.)[/size]

[size=2]Evidently this has been going on for years ...[/size]

[size=2]Only Agent Volk remains, unmoved by what just occurred. CLOSE ON - MARCO, catching his breath.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE (V.O.)[/size]

[size=2]... Sad little Tin Soldier.[/size]

[size=2]124 INT. ELEGANT RESTAURANT - PRIVATE ROOM - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Ellie eats, while Raymond flips through Marco's extensive file: cross-agency surveillance, Army psychological profiling, FBI updates. Repeated buzzwords like: "mentally unstable," "obsessed with Raymond Shaw," "delusional," "borderline functional," "acute stress disorder ..."[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]Isn't it disgraceful the way troubled individuals are allowed to simply walk around with the rest of us until something horrible happens? Another failure of the HMOs. I'm thinking of sponsoring a bill, with Senator Friedman of Rhode Island --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]-- I don't care.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]Well, imagine how terrified your people were yesterday when Major Marco showed up at the airport and you invited him – my God, invited him -- to tag along. Knowing what they knew.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I know him. I served under him. He was a good man.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]That's what the neighbors always say about serial killers.[/size]

[size=2]Raymond stares at an old PHOTOGRAPH OF MARCO: curled up in a fetal position, on a V.A. hospital bed.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2](sighs)[/size]

[size=2]Perhaps we could arrange a promotion to a less stressful posting. Somewhere tropical.[/size]

[size=2]125 INT. FEDERAL BUILDING - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Marco with Howard, who's visibly upset. He likes Marco, it breaks his heart to watch him unravelling like this. Agent Volk remains in her chair, on the other side of the room:[/size]

[size=2]The door opens, and Col. Garret comes in, with Agent Goldring, who gives Marco back his personal effects, and:[/size]

[size=2]AGENT GOLDRING[/size]

[size=2]Goodbye.[/size]

[size=2](to Marco)[/size]

[size=2]Get out of here.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]He's free to go?[/size]

[size=2]AGENT GOLDRING[/size]

[size=2]Shaw won't press charges, and he's got juice with important friends. It's today's daily double.[/size]

[size=2]Agent Volk closes her notebook and moves past Goldring as he picks up the tape recorder. She glances at Howard, and leaves the room.[/size]

[size=2]COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2]Someone from Senator Eleanor Shaw's office called and intervened on your behalf.[/size]

[size=2]A beat. Marco, trying to process all this:[/size]

[size=2]COLONEL GARRET[/size]

[size=2]Major, you have reached the terminal end of the Army's patience. You're relieved of duty, effective immediately.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]There's a young neurologist at Walter Reed. Zahn. He's had considerable success with GWS -- I want you to get your affairs in order and report to him[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD (CONT'D)[/size]

[size=2]for evaluation and treatment first thing Monday morning.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Sir, I know all about Dr. Zahn. Remember? He's that guy who --[/size]

[size=2](catches himself)[/size]

[size=2]Sir. Yes sir.[/size]

[size=2](beat)[/size]

[size=2]I'm sorry.[/size]

[size=2]LT. COL. HOWARD[/size]

[size=2]Me too, Ben.[/size]

[size=2]126 OMITTED
[/size]


[size=2]127 SERIES OF X-RAYS[/size]

[size=2]micro-circuitry, neat as a pin --[/size]

[size=2]DELP'S VOICE[/size]

[size=2]I thought you said you lost this.[/size]

[size=2]TIGHT - THROUGH A STEREOSCOPIC MICROSCOPE - THE IMPLANT[/size]

[size=2]falls into focus, smooth and etched with integrated circuits as intricate and beautiful as a henna tattoo ...[/size]

[size=2]MARCO'S VOICE[/size]

[size=2]I found it again.[/size]

[size=2]128 INT. DELP'S LAB - SKYBOOTH - NIGHT[/size]

[size=2]Delp looks up from the microscope, at Marco.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]These are not supposed to exist, man. These are only theoretical.[/size]

[size=2] -- leaves the statement hanging --[/size]

[size=2]129 INT. DELP'S LAB - MAIN FLOOR - MOMENTS LATER[/size]

[size=2]Delp freaked and hyper, gathering wires and whatnot from shelves -- a veritable armload, as:[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]You sure you want to do this man?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yes.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]-- because I don't.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I'll owe you one.[/size]

[size=2]Delp rounds a corner -- monkeys scrambling around their cages as he comes to the clearing where MARCO sits on one of the experimental gurneys, using a pen to write on his arm.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]No. I'll still owe you for getting my sorry ass out of Albania.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]-- Talk to me about the implant.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]Manchurian Global. Heard of 'em?[/size]

[size=2](off Marco:)[/size]

[size=2]Private equity fund, specializes in military support services and weapons research ... including a certain Army implant project that went belly-up in the early 90s.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]You said the Army implants were for medical emergency data.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]The ones they publicized were. But, oh man, there was a parallel project of all kinds of scary implantable Poop the Clinton watchdogs finally freaked out over, and closed down.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]How do you know all this?[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]Cuz they funded me to make some of their scary Poop.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]What does it do?[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]I don't know. I don't want to know. You don't want to know -- Poop -- it's out of you, and you're still alive. That's the good news.[/size]

[size=2](off his arm)[/size]

[size=2]What are you doing?[/size]

[size=2]INTERCUT - MARCO'S FOREARM[/size]

[size=2]He's scrawling words on his palm, with a ballpoint pen:[/size]

[size=2]ROSIE. RAYMOND SHAW. MANCHURIAN-GLOBAL ...[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Back-up in case this makes me forget some stuff I want to remember.[/size]

[size=2]DELP [/size][size=2]eases Marco back on the gurney, deftly puts some I.V. taps into his arms. Marco's legs hang over the edge.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]These are built for monkeys, so bear with me, man.[/size]

[size=2]SERIES OF SHOTS[/size]

[size=2]He's putting thread-thin electrodes INTO Marco's head, just beneath the skin.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]I'm putting you on a cocktail of methohexitol to take the edge off.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Edge off what?[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]'Getting clarity.' Or whatever you want to call it -- ECT not being the precise science that, say, leeching is.[/size]

[size=2]Wires snake across the floor to the ECT [Electro-Convulsive Therapy] unit.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]You don't think this is going to work.[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]It's the desperation move, man. But, hey. There is a school of thought, says a victim of induced abreaction – or ultra-paradoxical brain activity, if you're at all correct about what happened to you -- can have it effectively dispersed by electroshock. Unscrambled.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]-- But?[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]But the legions of naysayers will tell you that if the initial work's done correctly -- if the brain's been not just washed, but dry-cleaned –[/size]

[size=2]Takes out a bite-guard and puts it in Marco's mouth:[/size]

[size=2]DELP[/size]

[size=2]-- fuhgetaboutit. No sale.[/size]

[size=2](then)[/size]

[size=2]Try to relax, okay?[/size]

[size=2]Throws the switch, sending electric current through Marco's head -- -- Marco's body ARCHES off the table and he goes into seizure --[/size]

[size=2]IMAGES FADE IN AND OUT:[/size]

[size=2]FB129 -- a man in a gas mask JAMS his rifle butt down. FADE OUT.[/size]

[size=2]FBA129-- black-clad soldiers swarm Marco's team. FADE OUT.[/size]

[size=2]FBB129-- inside of a helicopter, grey light fluttering -- Laurent, gas mask down, confers with a pilot. FADE OUT.[/size]

[size=2]FBC129-- jetting low across dark water as dawn breaks. FADE OUT.[/size]

[size=2]FBD129-- impression of an abandoned village --[/size]

[size=2]FBE129-- an abandoned beach [/size]

[size=2]FBF129-- ruins of an ancient caravansary --[/size]

[size=2]FBG129-- float DOWN on the upturned face of NOYLE. FADE OUT. [/size]

[size=2]FBH129-- Marco's HEAD SLAMMED DOWN, hard surface, a gun-like ELECTRIC IMPLANT device FIRES its package into the skin near Marco's shoulder-blade. FADE OUT.[/size]

[size=2]FBI129-- impressions of Melvin, Baker, Mavole, drugged, wired up. FADE OUT.[/size]

[size=2]FBJ129-- Raymond releasing Mavole's throat --[/size]

[size=2]FBK129-- Bobby Baker, bloody hole in his forehead, falling away --[/size]

[size=2]FBL129-- the crazy pattern of the tile --[/size]

[size=2]FBM129-- and Marco running, RUSHING FORWARD -- toward daylight, past other platoon members, wires and I.V. tubes snaking upward, watching animated Raymond Shaw hero footage on a plasma screen, patriotic music BLARING.[/size]

[size=2]FBN129-- breaking outside, a glimpse of the azure sea waiting there -- -- but DOWN, TACKLED ... FADE OUT[/size]

[size=2]FBO129-- stumbling from helicopters into a rotor-torn sandstorm -- the dust clearing to reveal ... weary, dazed, exhausted soldiers in the middle of nowhere, under an[/size][size=2] angry sun ... ... the SCREEN BLOOMS WHITE, and completely empty -- like an Arabian desert --[/size]

[size=2]130 EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Marco opens his eyes to the glare of a crisp autumn sun, surreal colors: blue sky, shimmering green, the skyline. His head is in Rosie's lap, he lies curled in the grass.[/size]

[size=2]A banana-yellow motorized model plane buzzes in tight circles overhead.[/size]

[size=2]Rosie's talking, but Ben can't hear her. Just the buzzing. She stops, looks at him.[/size]

[size=2]ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]Blank again?[/size]

[size=2]Marco tries to say something, his mouth is dry.[/size]

[size=2]ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]He said this would happen.[/size]

[size=2]Marco stares, trying to orient himself. His arm comes up to shade his eyes -- nothing written on it.[/size] [size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Who?[/size]

[size=2]ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]Your friend.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I don't remember a friend. Nothing.[/size]

[size=2]ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]Kind of like a computer system crash -- your brain goes down, then you boot up again, but you lose all your RAM.[/size]

[size=2](hesitates)[/size]

[size=2]Do you remember me?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2](after a beat)[/size]

[size=2]Eugenie Rose.[/size][size=2] [/size]

[size=2]Rosie smiles. Marco closes his eyes again and --[/size]

[size=2]SCREEN GOES BLACK.[/size]

[size=2]Silence. Two beats. Then the SOUND OF A TELEVISION fades up:[/size]

[size=2]TV130NEWSCASTER #3[/size]

[size=2]U.S. planes bombed selected sites in Guinea today, acting on intelligence that the African nation's military regime had secretly resumed its chemical weapons program ...[/size]

[size=2]131TIGHT - A TELEVISION (VIDEO)[/size]

[size=2]131ACampaign footage of Raymond Shaw visiting schools in the Binner city, Arthur riding horses in Wyoming, the two men meeting with business leaders in Chicago.[/size]

[size=2]TV131NEWSCASTER #4[/size]

[size=2]... latest USA Today polls indicate a "secure tomorrow" for Gov. Robert Arthur and Congressman Raymond Shaw. The duo holds a commanding lead, entering the last two weeks of the campaign ...[/size]
Posted Image

#3 Seph7

Seph7

    Co-founder & Long-time Liev Lover!

  • Global Admin
  • 2,398 posts
  • LocationNorth West, UK

Posted 21 October 2011 - 07:43 PM

132INT. ROSIE'S COUSIN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Marco wakes up, still in a bed. Alone. The room bathed in blue light from the small television where the news drones.

TV132 OMITTED

Rosie comes out of the bathroom, wearing a long New York Rangers jersey, bare-legged, barefoot, hair wet from a shower. Beautiful.

MARCO

It's Wednesday.

ROSIE

Yes.

MARCO

Central Park was Monday. I came home Friday.

ROSIE

(smiles)

That's right.

A long beat. Marco stares at the t.v. as she sits on the edge of the bed, rubs her hair with a towel.

MARCO

How did I get here?

ROSIE

You called me.

MARCO

El Dorado 59970.

(beat)

I remembered.

(beat)

I remember, and I didn't dream.

ROSIE

It's been weird, talking to you. Knowing that you could fall asleep with your eyes open and wake up and have forgotten the whole conversation. I hope to God that part's over.

MARCO

What'd we talk about?

ROSIE

(vague)

Stuff.

(then)

You said you "loved" me. Not to scare you. Out of nowhere, but more than once.

MARCO

I remember that.

Beat. She smiles. She leans in, kisses him lightly.

ROSIE

Liar.

MARCO

What else did we talk about?

Rosie opens her mouth --

SCREEN GOES BLACK.

Two beats of silence, then --

133 INT. ROSIE'S COUSIN'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAWN

Marco wakes up. Clear headed. Calm. Rosie is asleep beside him on the bed. The television is off.

134 INT. BATHROOM - DAWN

Marco drinks water from the faucet, wipes his mouth. Stares at himself in the mirror -- he looks like death warmed over. Starts to smile ... ... but his eyes stray up to the half-open mirror of the vanity -- reflecting, behind him, the bathroom wall: towel racks, wall paper, a high VENT ... with a FAINT RED LED glowing INSIDE.

JUMP CUT: MARCO

Standing on the edge of the tub, stretched out, face pressed up to the vent, trying to see inside --

SUBJECTIVE: MARCO (B&W) - THROUGH THE VENT

Looking back at Marco, peering in. Slightly warped by the lens. Freaking out.

RESUME - MARCO

He can just make out the shadow of a TINY VIDEO CAMERA, wires snaking back into the ducting, micro-lens adjusting automatically to focus.

He slips off the tub, nearly falls, catches himself --

135 INT. ROSIE'S COUSIN'S APARTMENT - DAWN

Marco taping newspapers over all the heating vents --

INT. ROSIE'S COUSIN'S APARTMENT - DAWN

Marco going through cupboard, drawers, closets, looking for ... what, exactly? He doesn't know. His world is caving in. He pivots, looks at Rosie, still sleeping.

INT. ROSIE'S COUSIN'S APARTMENT - DAWN

Rosie's purse is dumped out on the table, and now Marco's going through her suitcase.

He's dressed, now, even has his coat on. Pulling out her clothing, discovering, at the bottom:

FILE FOLDERS, NOTES, REPORTS

Much of the same material that Eleanor Shaw showed Raymond. Incriminating stuff about Marco, timetables, surveillance photographs, psychiatric evaluations and

AUDIO TAPES

Microcassettes, neatly labelled with dates and hours ...

INTERCUT - SUBJECTIVE: SAME (B&W) - SURVEILLANCE

ROSIE

Ben?

Rosie, rolling off the bed, sleepy, crossing to where Marco is gathering the files --

ROSIE

What are you ... oh God.

Sees the hard look on Marco's face. Newspapers over all the vents. Opens her mouth to explain but Marco SWINGS HARD, and hits her -- she partially blocks it with her forearm -- backhands her onto the floor --

MARCO

You're part of it.

-- then he's moving, out the door --

ROSIE

Don't --

She leaps at him -- SHOVES him hard into the wall, and when he whirls to shake her off, slips down and uses his weight and momentum to toss Marco crashing halfway back across the room. Now she's between him and the door.

ROSIE

Don't do this, Ben. It's not what you think.

MARCO

How can you know what I think?

He tries to get past her again --

THEY FIGHT

Rosie can't beat him, but she's extremely skilled -- Marco gets stung twice by hard rights -- but whirls, all-defense, an improvised rope-a-dope that gives him the opening he needs -- -- he SMACKS Rosie sharply, stunning her -- and as she rocks backward he flies out the door --

ROSIE

BEN!

136 EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - DAWN

Marco bursts out of the doorway, into the grey light of morning, and runs, the files fluttering under his arm.

137 OMITTED

138 INT. SKYBOOTH OF DELP'S LAB - DAY

A CARETAKER rattling keys impatiently behind him, Marco stands looking down into the pit of the abandoned lab. Delp and the monkeys are gone. Empty cages and unplugged equipment are all that remain of Delp and his fear project. The utter quiet is deafening.

139 EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Marco moving, head down, eyes everywhere -- anybody could be following him. Anybody could be watching him. Anybody could be part of this. PRELAP sound of a tape fast-forwarding and:

ROSIE'S VOICE

(audio surveillance tape)

You said you "loved" me ...

140 EXT. NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY - ESTABLISHING

141 TIGHT - A MICROFICHE SCREEN


scrolling old newspapers in a BLUR.

ROSIE'S VOICE

... Not to scare you. Out of nowhere, but more than once.

MARCO'S VOICE

I remember.

WHIR of rewinding audio --

142 INT. NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY - DEEP IN THE STACKS - DAY

Marco deep in research, at a small table covered with books and paper -- a crazy man's kind of chaos. The file he stole from Rosie's is disemboweled across the desktop. A library tape machine plays one of the surveillance tapes he's stolen from Rosie's:

MARCO'S VOICE

(bleeding through earphones)

What else did we talk about?

INTERCUT - MICROFICHE

stories flip past ...

ROSIE'S VOICE

Raymond Shaw. And about what happened to you, after you were captured. Black helicopters, secret laboratories, mind drugs, mad scientists, shock-torture ...

MARCO'S VOICE

You don't believe any of it.

ROSIE'S VOICE

It's crazy. It sounds crazy.

MARCO'S VOICE

-- maybe that's what they want. Maybe that's what they want.

INTERCUT - TAPE MACHINE

143 Marco pops out one tape, pushes in another. WHIR of the tape rewinding again, then:

MARCO'S VOICE

-- I watched Raymond Shaw kill someone. I watched him kill Private Eddie Mavole. Like it was nothing.

FB143 FLASHBACK: ROSIE'S APARTMENT

Marco, on the bed, numb.

MARCO

And I think they made me kill someone too. One of my people. Kid named Bobby Baker.

Rosie puts her arms around him --

ROSIE

Or they want you to think that you did.

-- Marco doesn't react -- WHIR of audio fast-forward --

144 RESUME - LIBRARY

Marco takes his thumb off the shuttle button and --

MARCO'S VOICE

... We were all hooked up to IV tubes and wires and equipment -- heart monitors, head monitors, electroshock -- and a lot of stuff I've never seen before ... ... Finding, finally, an inside page of the SCIENCE & TECHNOLOGY section of the Times, with the headline:

MANCHURIAN HOPES NEW IMPLANTS SAVE LIVES

... and a p.r. PHOTO of Managing Director David R. Donovan, smiling, flanked by a TEAM OF SCIENTISTS. The caption only mentions Donovan by name -- in the picture his hand is extended, he's got a tiny implant device cupped in his palm.

ROSIE'S VOICE

Did he have a name?

MARCO'S VOICE

What?

Marco stares at the photograph.

PANNING TIGHT - ACROSS THE SCIENTISTS

in the b.g. of the photograph.HOLDING on one, half-hidden, just slightly out of focus.

It's Noyle.

ROSIE'S VOICE

The doctor, Ben -- what was his name? Can you remember?

A long beat. Marco racks his memory. Then --

MARCO

Noyle. They called him Dr. Noyle.

PUSH in until Noyle is just a mass of pixels --

CRASH:

145 TIGHT - COMPUTER STATION - ANOTHER SECTION OF THE LIBRARY

A Google search. Marco types the name: NOYLE.

INTERCUT - COMPUTER SCREEN

A GOVERNMENT website:

SOUTH AFRICAN TRUTH AND RECONCILIATION COMMITTEE

Thumbnail photos of "25 SCIENTISTS ACCUSED OF HUMAN

EXPERIMENTATION ON POLITICAL PRISONERS."

SCROLLING DOWN ... UNTIL a photo of Atticus Noyle is center- screen. Smiling out at us.

CLICK: HEADLINES -- "Capetown U. Scientist Expelled: Alleged CIA Ties" -- "Genome Researcher Sought for Questioning by The Hague" -- ON MARCO -- energized by what he's seeing -- CLICK: SLIDE OVER NOYLE'S FACE -- key words like "genetic memory enhancement," "behavioral modification" ... a QUICKTIME VIDEO that Marco activates, and --

146 IN STREAMING VIDEO: NOYLE

His sanitized, early sales pitch, all digitized and degraded -- an old web interview:

NOYLE

... we really can reinvent ourselves, you know, by the remapping of the human genome. Strengthen character, enhance personality, not unlike tummy tucks and breast augmentation. Generate extraordinary abilities in math, music, athletics. Tweak the sympathy gene, boost self-confidence --

CLOSE - ON MARCO

staring, excited -- the freak from his nightmares is real --

NOYLE (O.S.)

(streaming audio)

-- broaden the very parameters of memory, to offset the ravages of dementia – or virtually liberate an individual from the limitations imposed by damaging previous

experiences -- literally freeing them from the burden of their past ...

147 EXT. PENN STATION - DAY

Raining, hard. Marco hurrying toward the station entrance, his research jammed under his arm, and in a grocery bag he's found somewhere. Collides with a guy in a suit. Papers go everywhere -- Marco YELLS at the guy and scrambles to pick up his documents, shoving people out of the way --

FREEZE FRAME.

SERIES OF STILL SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS - SAME

Marco scrambling to get his stuff back together. He looks like a crazy street person.

CRASH:

148 EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. - CAPITOL HILL - DUSK

A sun throws yellow across the Mall, and the Senate Office buildings are ribboned with shadows.

149 INT. SENATOR JORDAN'S OFFICE - DUSK

Jordan behind his desk, staring at a white business card while a high-strung AIDE leans in, talking low:

AIDE

I called the Pentagon. They told me he's on medical leave.

The calling card is Marco's, from Army Intelligence. Jordan flips it over. Marco has scrawled "DO YOU STILL WANT TO BE VICE PRESIDENT?"

AIDE

Secret Service, they've got him on a couple of their watch and observe lists. Through a gap in the doorway, Jordan can SEE Marco sitting in his outer office, bag of evidence at his feet, hunched forward, staring at the floor.

AIDE

I guess there's been some trouble with this guy, involving Congressman Shaw.

At the mention of the Shaw name, Jordan looks up --

150 INT. SMALL CONFERENCE ROOM - DUSK

Jordan sits behind the table, all of Marco's documents and evidence arranged tidily in front of him in meager piles, Marco pacing, watching as Jordan finishes examining a thick Atticus Noyle computer print out.

JORDAN

Nobody will believe this.

MARCO

Nobody believed Watergate.

He sits down, opposite Jordan.

MARCO

Or Oklahoma City, or the World Trade Center. You wouldn't have believed Oswald before Kennedy got shot.

JORDAN

On the advisory board of Manchurian- Global, should they ever publish a list -- which they won't -- you would find former Presidents, deposed Kings, retired Prime Ministers, Ayatollahs, African War-Lords, fallen Communist Dictators and an assortment of the Fucking Rich, who are distinguished from the merely Filthy Rich by factors of billions.

He puts the Noyle file down, pushes everything away.

JORDAN

You bring me rumors and conjecture.

MARCO

I started with nightmares, sir. Rumors and conjecture are a giant leap forward.

JORDAN

Nightmares you've interpreted, using as primary resources a) your spotty memory, B) the internet -- sacred sanctuary of idiots and nutters -- and c) random faces and coincidences, and evidence you chewed out of a man's back -- all neatly stitched together with the common thread of a powerful, well-connected private equity fund -- who will plead ignorance, and be shocked, shocked, to learn what

JORDAN (CONT'D)

some of their subsidiary partners are engaged in.

MARCO

Sir, I don't give a rat's ass about Manchurian Global! That's not why I'm here!

(beat)

I can't touch them, I get that, I'm not stupid, sir.

A cold silence. Marco stares at Jordan.

MARCO

I just want to try and stop this one thing -- this Raymond Shaw bomb -- from going off.

Jordan nods again, slightly. Lost in thought.

MARCO

And I'd be lying if I told you I hadn't factored in huge that you've got a vested personal, political, and patriotic interest in how this shakes out.

CRASH:

151OMITTED

A152 OMITTED

152EXT. ELEANOR'S VIRGINIA MANSION - NIGHT

A limousine pulls up in front, followed by a car full of Secret Service. Anderson floats out and opens the door for Raymond ...

153INT. PRENTISS MANSION - NIGHT

An argument in progress as Raymond shrugs off his overcoat into the hands of a SERVANT.

The low murmur of Jordan's voice, then INCREDULOUS LAUGHTER:

ELLIE (O.S.)

Lies. Fabrications. Fiction. You've been waiting to do this to me for, what, twenty years? Get out.

JORDAN (O.S.)

No, I'll wait until Raymond gets here and we can all --

ELLIE (O.S.)

Get out of my house.

Raymond proceeds down the hallway to --

154 INT. STUDY - CONTINUOUS


Raymond entering, closing the door behind him as Ellie throws documents across the room at Jordan:

ELLIE

The man is insane, Tom -- full-blown schizophrenia -- he's been stalking Raymond -- if you dare to use this –

Now they see Raymond, under the imposing Andrew Wyeth painting of Tyler Prentiss that dominates one whole wall of the study, and Ellie stops.

ELLIE

(to Raymond)

Your bipolar buddy has been sharing his dreams with Senator Jordan.

JORDAN

Hello Raymond.

Raymond smiles -- it's terrifying -- the fragile, forced, frigid smile of a man in pain.

RAYMOND

Hello Senator. How's Jocie?

Jordan picks up a picture of Noyle and smoothes it onto the desk for Raymond to see, as:

ELLIE

Can we please not go down that road?

JORDAN

Do you recognize this man?

RAYMOND

No.

JORDAN

His name is Atticus Noyle. He is a South African physician, neuropsychiatric scientist and mercenary -- someone our CIA trained for covert mind warfare against the Soviets in Aghanistan -- someone who has sold technology to and done research for terrorist groups, and rogue states. Major Marco claims that this man --

ELLIE JORDAN

-- brainwashed you –-- In his dreams.

RAYMOND

Sir, Ben Marco is sick. Delusional.

JORDAN

Nevertheless he's pulled from his mad hat some remarkably lucid connections between his dreams of your exploits in Kuwait, and this Dr. Noyle, and the private equity fund Manchurian Global –

Raymond frowns, looks from Jordan to Ellie.

JORDAN

-- your mother's primary political benefactor for the past fifteen years.

ELLIE

Christ, Tom. They contribute to half the Senate, for God's sake.

Silence.

RAYMOND

I don't understand.

JORDAN

At the time of Desert Storm, Dr. Atticus Noyle was working under a research grant from Manchurian Global. Your mother's friend.

The color suddenly drains out of Ellie's face.

RAYMOND

What?

JORDAN

Rogue scientists. Mind control. Manchurian Global. Your mother. You. Connect the dots, Raymond. Possibly, your mother's blind to them, because they pay their way --

ELLIE

Possibly the Senator's motives are colored by his desperation to get himself back on the presidential ticket now that the heavy lifting is done --

RAYMOND

(unravelling)

I don't -- I don't --

JORDAN

It's not about me. As far as I'm concerned, this should never come out -- it would shred what little remains of the fabric of our public trust -- think of the nation --

RAYMOND

I don't have the dreams.

ELLIE

He can't prove anything.

JORDAN

Everything you stand for is upside down! If this were to come out, true or no, it

would be catastrophic for the campaign.

(beat, a threat?)

And it will come out.

RAYMOND

What are you saying?

Silence. The question hangs there.

RAYMOND

What do I do?

JORDAN

You withdraw. You bow out gracefully. Personal reasons. An obscure illness. Yield your spot on the ticket, go into seclusion …

He glances coolly at Ellie --

JORDAN

... and then surrender yourself to federal authorities who can help you address the damage that may have been inflicted on you.

-- and walks out. Raymond and Eleanor have hardly moved. Sound of the front door opening, closing.

RAYMOND

I feel sick. Christ. What have you done to me?

ELLIE

Raymond, remember when --

RAYMOND

NO, never mind -- don't bother. Don't lie. Don't say anything. No more lies.

There are actual tears in Ellie's eyes. Raymond just stares at her, coldly.

RAYMOND

I can promise you that whatever you've done, I will undo it.

ELLIE

I know -- I know, baby --

RAYMOND

I never want to see you or speak to you again --

ELLIE

Raymond --

RAYMOND

-- I mean it this time.

Raymond heads for the door --

ELLIE

Sergeant Shaw –

Raymond slows -- curious to be addressed like this -- sound of the desert wind rises --

ELLIE

-- Sergeant Raymond Shaw –

He's turning -- the room coming alive -- light shifting, intensifying -- that terrible vividness -- and the wall of the zaghareet ...

EXTREMELY CLOSE ON - ELLIE

ELLIE

Raymond Prentiss Shaw --

(sad)

Listen:

CRASH:

155 INT. UNION STATION - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAWN

Marco jolts awake, as if from a bad dream, startled -- cramped on a bench, just another rumpled, weary traveler -- early morning commuters gliding past him like a fog.

156 EXT. CHESAPEAKE BAY - JORDAN'S HOUSE - DAWN

A lacy fog rising from the reeds on the shoreline as the Senator drags his kayak from under the pilings of a pristine, clapboard cottage to the edge of the water.

157 INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - DAWN

The house is beautiful, everything perfect. FLOAT through FINDNG Jocie in a back bedroom, waking slowly in a huge bed, rolling to look out the window and watch her father, in his kayak, paddling away ...

158 INT. UNION STATION - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAWN

Marco grabs a coffee from off a Starbucks counter, picks up his bag and heads toward the New York City line platform, to catch his train --

159 EXT. CHESAPEAKE BAY - JORDAN'S KAYAK - DAY

The Senator rows with confidence, his bow cuts the glassy surface of the bay, fog ripples away from him, dreamy. Up ahead, he can see the ghost of his house. And a figure on the shoreline.

JORDAN

Who's that?

RAYMOND

It's me, sir.

JORDAN

stops paddling, and lets the kayak drift in. He's breaking hard, sweat glistening on his face.

RAYMOND

sloshes down into the water, wades out waist-deep --

JORDAN

Wait. Oh, don't do that, I can --

RAYMOND

I came to apologize, sir.

JORDAN

-- the water must be freezing. What are you doing? Raymond. Don't bother, I can --

Raymond catches the bow of the kayak, turns it.

RAYMOND

I'm sorry.

JORDAN

I am too. But, your mother must –

With one motion, Raymond RIPS the two-blade paddle out of Jordan's hand, and FLIPS the boat over --

RAYMOND

I'm sorry, sir.

-- Jordan goes under, legs trapped in the kayak --

160 UNDER THE WATER - JORDAN

flailing -- trying to get out of the kayak, incapacitated by the cold water --

161 INT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - DAWN

Jocie wanders, sleepy, into the main room, pulling on a hooded sweatshirt -- and SEES, THROUGH THE BAY WINDOWS: -- her father's upended kayak. -- a figure in the water, as if trying to save him --

162 EXT. JORDAN'S HOUSE - DAWN

Jocie sprints down toward the water, screaming --

JOCELYN

DADDY!

-- Raymond turns and sees her running toward him. For a moment time stands still -- Jocie trying to process Raymond Shaw in the water with her father, and Raymond trying to process, through the curtain of his fractured consciousness, Jocelyn Jordan.

JOCELYN leaps into the water, thinking she'll help with a rescue. The cold hits her like a sledgehammer -- followed by the realization Raymond's trying to drown her father --

JOCELYN

Raymond, what are you doing?! No! Stop it! Stop --!

She tries to shove Raymond away from the boat, but RAYMOND turns, grabs her by the hood of her sweatshirt -- -- and whipsaws her out into the deeper water, shoving her under it.

Jocelyn's hands claw at him, but he's stronger, and the water has no effect on him. She thrashes wildly ... and he looks down at her through the water, hair flowing, utterly beautiful ... as if in a dream.

RAYMOND

(far away)

Shhhhhhhh.

Jocelyn weakens ... succumbs ... her body floats away.

163NEWS COVERAGE - LATER - SAME DAY (VIDEO)

TVA163Cold tapestry of images behind the MAJOR MEDIA ICON: police, paramedics, bodies pulled from the water, Jordan's empty house.

TV163MEDIA ICON

... the five-term Senator -- and recent front-runner for his party's vice presidential nomination -- appears to have accidentally drowned when his kayak overturned near his Chesapeake Bay home. Police say his daughter, Jocelyn, 35, may have been trying to rescue Jordan when she was, herself, overcome by the icy water ...

164CAMPAIGN COVERAGE

an impromptu stand-up with visibly-shaken presidential candidate Arthur outside ARTHUR-SHAW campaign headquarters:

TV164ARTHUR

Horrible, horrible thing. Senator Jordan was a statesman of the highest integrity.

(fighting emotions)

Tom Jordan was a friend. A damn fine man. A great American.

165INT. PENN STATION - MANHATTAN - MARCO

staring numbly at the news report on a little portable t.v. in a NEWS KIOSK --

166INT. CAMPAIGN RALLY - DAY

SLOWING MOTION: the world a blur around Raymond as he walks a gauntlet of reporters shouting questions: about policy, about Jordan. Expressionless, he just keeps walking, but his lips move -- -- "tragedy" -- "senseless" -- "great loss" --

167EXT. GROUNDS OF ELLIE'S MANSION - DAY

Donovan walking beside Senator Eleanor Prentiss Shaw. Whiting just behind them.

DONOVAN

You trusted us to bring your son back to you, and we deliver. We trusted you with our technology -- and now you turn him into a common hit man.

ELLIE

Oh, don't lecture me --

DONOVAN

You didn't even ask us. You needed to ask.

ELLIE

Tom Jordan was going to destroy everything we've worked toward, and every one of us along with it, and you want me to call a meeting?

WHITING

David, if Jordan had gone public --

DONOVAN

In any endeavor, there are key players and role players, and Raymond -- or you, or me, for that matter -- I'm sorry – we are role players, with fixed values and fixed agendas, that get weighed against other factors.

Ellie stops, looks at him.

ELLIE

Bullshit.

(then)

You can tell yourself that as you go to bed tonight, David, and I hope it helps you wake up tomorrow with a clean conscience -- but we are talking about my son and the future of this country.

(beat)

My father, Tyler Prentiss, never asked. He just did what needed to be done.

168 INT. ROSIE'S COUSIN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT


Rosie asleep. PUSH IN RAPIDLY ... then a HAND comes down hard and efficiently against her throat -- -- she wakes up, fighting for air --

MARCO

(a whisper)

How does the President die?

He sits on top of her, pinning her arms down. She struggles to say something. Marco shakes his head.

MARCO

When. Where. How.

He releases her throat, and she gasps for air --

MARCO

I'm gonna stop this. We'll go to the Feds. You and me. And tell them a story.

ROSIE

Who'll -- believe --

MARCO

I don't know. I don't care any more. It's all I have.

Rosie bucks -- gets a hand free -- SLUGS, Marco, and they tumble off the bed in a tangle of blankets and limbs -- ROSIE comes up holding a 9 mm revolver to Marco's forehead.

ROSIE

I am the Feds.

She coughs. Marco stares at her, dumbfounded.

ROSIE

We've been watching you, trying to sort this out. I mean, it's either you're telling it straight and we've all got something big-time to worry about, or you're crazy and dangerous -- either way we've had to keep you on a short leash, 'cuz if we lock you up we'll never know.

(beat)

And we can't tell anybody because we don't know how deep this river runs.

(beat)

If there is a river.

(off his expression)

You got away from me.

MARCO

Raymond Shaw murdered Senator Jordan and his daughter.

ROSIE

(shaking her head)

Oh Ben. The thing is? I want to believe you. God help me, Ben, I do.

MARCO

-- he's a time bomb, ticking --

ROSIE

Everybody else wants you junked up on Thorazine and just not a problem any more.

MARCO

I am clearer on this than I've ever been. It's rich guys, funding bad science, to put a sleeper in the White House --

ROSIE

Listen to yourself. You're a poster boy for paranoid fantasies.

Beat. Silence, broken only by their breathing.

MARCO

I screwed up. Jordan was my trump card, and I screwed it up.

(then)

Either help me, or shoot me, Rosie. There's no middle ground anymore.

He gets up -- Rosie's not going to shoot him --

SMASH CUT TO:

169 NOYLE

frowning --

NOYLE

Raymond -- Raymond --

TURN:

DREAMSCAPE - AS BEFORE

Raymond hands a service revolver past Noyle, to MARCO -- who primes it, aims --

NOYLE (O.S.)

Captain Marco, would you please shoot Private Baker so we can move on?

-- MARCO SHOOTS BAKER IN THE FOREHEAD --

170 INT. LIMOUSINE - MORNING

RAYMOND

Aaaahhhhhhh --!

Raymond awakens with a startled about, face flushed, sweating. Terrified --

MIRELLA/ANDERSON

Aaaahhhhhh --!

-- Raymond finds himself in the back seat of his limo, his campaign aide Mirella, her assistant, and Anderson, all startled and shouting too --

MIRELLA

You okay?

RAYMOND

Yeah. Yes. Bad dream.

ANDERSON

We've arrived, Congressman.

Raymond sits up.

RAYMOND

Okay.

171 EXT. P.S. 16 - WESTCHESTER - DAY

Raymond emerges to cameras and fanfare -- it's election day, and he's going to vote.

Anderson and other agents clear a path up the steps into the ELEMENTARY SCHOOL VOTING SITE. Reporters shout questions that Raymond just answers with his professional smile.

[size=2]172 INT. P.S. 16 - GYMNASIUM - DAY[/size]

[size=2]A temporary polling place. Flags, tables, not too crowded. VOTERS stepping out of the way. POLL VOLUNTEERS pressing in to shake hands and wish Raymond Shaw good luck. And ROSIE on the edge. She badges Anderson, and talks to him. He nods, moves over and talks quietly to Raymond as Raymond signs his name in the voter registration log. Then lets Rosie guide him to a booth on the end --[/size]

[size=2]173 INT. VOTING BOOTH - RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]pulls the giant lever, the curtains close, finds -- A NOTE -- folded, taped to the machine. RAYMOND -- opens it, reads it.[/size]

[size=2]VOTING BOOTH - MOMENTS LATER[/size][size=2] [/size][size=2]the curtain opens and Raymond steps out, smiling again. Cameras flash, video crews wave boom mikes, expecting a sound bite:[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I was on the fence when I walked in there ... but then I saw my name on the ballot[/size] and I knew what I had to do.


[size=2]Laughter. He whispers to a poll volunteer, and she points him down a hallway --[/size]

[size=2]174 INT. P.S. 16 - CORRIDOR[/size]

[size=2]Raymond, Rosie and his Secret Service detail -- Rosie leads them to a doorway, holds it open for Raymond, but puts her hand lightly on Anderson's chest when he starts to go in to sweep the room --[/size]

[size=2]ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]It's clean.[/size]

[size=2]175 INT. P.S. 16 - SPECIAL ED. ROOM - DAY
[/size]


[size=2]Small, and private. Raymond turns on the light. Marco is in the corner, waiting. His Noyle File in one hand.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]How's your back?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]It hurts.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I'm sorry.[/size]

[size=2]Raymond locks the door, turns, takes in the room: tiny chairs and tables, walls covered with kids' drawings, and nearly every object in the room named and labelled with 3x5[/size][size=2] cards.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I've been having the dreams, Ben.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]That's good.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Good? They're inside my head. They got inside, the way you said they would --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]We'll get 'em out.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]They're all ... twisted together -- and I dream things, terrible things, that can't[/size][size=2] possibly have happened. I'm gone, Ben -- I'm losing it --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]No -- you could have had me locked up -- and you didn't. That's a sign.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Of what?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]That they don't control everything. We can fight it. I mean -- I'm still out here because you decided I should be -- which means there's a part they can't get to, deep inside -- the part where the truth is, and they can't touch us there. That's what we need to tap into, Raymond, that's the part where, you and me, we're gonna take them out.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Jocie's dead.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I know.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]-- and the Senator.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yeah.[/size]

[size=2] Beat.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Did I do it?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I think so, yeah.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I don't remember. I don't remember it.[/size]

[size=2]Raymond looks up at Ben.Emotionless. Uncomprehending.[/size]

[size=2]176 INTERCUT - CORRIDOR - ROSIE AND ANDERSON[/size]

[size=2]down the hallway, standing sentinel. Anderson checks his watch, glances uncomfortably back at the door -- then at Rosie, who just stares him down.[/size]

[size=2]177 RESUME - SPECIAL ED. ROOM - RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Tears run down his face, but his voice is normal, he stays expressionless. He rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I'm all inside-out.[/size]

[size=2] KNOCKING on the door.[/size]

[size=2]ANDERSON (O.S.)[/size]

[size=2]Mr. Shaw?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Just a minute.[/size]

[size=2] Raymond's cell phone RINGS.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]All I've ever done is what I was supposed to do. What I was told to do --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Raymond -- focus --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]-- What others want me to do.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Did they tell you what they want you to do, Ray? We gotta know what's gonna happen, we gotta know when's it gonna happen -- you can help me do this --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]You don't think they saw this coming? You don't think they factored you in?[/size]

[size=2](matter of fact)[/size]

[size=2]I need to die, Ben.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]What? No -- no, man, they've got big plans for you --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I'm the enemy, Major Marco, and the only way to stop me is to kill me. I thought you were smarter than this.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I can get the Feds, the police. Come on, Ray -- fight it --[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Are we friends?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Raymond, you gotta work with me here –[/size]

[size=2]Raymond takes the ringing phone from his inside pocket, and checks the number of who's calling.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I want to believe we're friends.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Raymond, stay focused. The irrefutable fact is that Jocie was a mistake, and we're gonna make 'em pay for it.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]I dream you, Ben. You kill Private Baker.[/size]

[size=2](into the phone, pleasant:)[/size]

[size=2]Hello?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]What are you talking about?[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2](into the phone)[/size]

[size=2]Yes mother.[/size]

[size=2] A class BELL RINGS --[/size]

[size=2]178 INTERCUT - CORRIDOR - DAY[/size]

[size=2]Students flood the hallway -- Laurent Tokar walks right past Rosie and Anderson, heading toward the special ed room --[/size]

[size=2]179 RESUME - THE SPECIAL ED ROOM[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Hang up.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2](into the phone)[/size]

[size=2]Yes, he's right here.[/size]

[size=2]Raymond extends the phone to Marco.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]She wants you.[/size]

[size=2]Marco hesitates. Me? But takes the receiver --[/size]

[size=2]180 INTERCUT - ELLIE'S PLAZA HOTEL SUITE - MORNING[/size]

[size=2]on the phone in her lavish room:[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]Is this Major Marco?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yes it is, Senator.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]-- Major Bennett Marco –[/size]

[size=2]Marco reacting quizzically -- sound of the distant windstorm building --[/size]

[size=2]EXTREME CLOSE UP - MARCO - HIS EAR -- at the phone:[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yeah ...?[/size]

[size=2]MARCO'S EYES flicker to Raymond's eyes --[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]Bennett Ezekiel Marco –[/size]

[size=2]-- Marco's senses are quickening -- the light literally changing around him -- that terrible LUMINOSITY -- as -- SOUND of fabric, in the wind -- the SANDSTORM RAGING --[/size]

[size=2]Marco's eyes shining now, hyper-alert -- a warrior's eyes --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Yes.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]-- Listen:[/size]

[size=2]CRASH:[/size]

[size=2]181 INT. P.S. 16 - CORRIDOR - MOMENTS LATER[/size]

[size=2]The happy chaos of screaming kids. Raymond emerges, smiling. Surrounded immediately by Anderson and his secret service detail, and escorted out of the building. ROSIE fights through the throng of students -- -- to the office door. Now it's locked. She bangs on it -- KICKS it open --[/size]

[size=2]182 INT. SPECIAL ED. OFFICE - DAY - ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]Empty. Marco gone. The Noyle File lies open -- and empty -- on the floor. She rushes through a connecting door --[/size]

[size=2]183 INT. AUDITORIUM - CONTINUOUS[/size]

[size=2]-- third-grade students loud, happy, rehearsing a patriotic "Abe Lincoln" election day skit -- no Marco here -- she's lost him --[/size]

[size=2]184INT. SPECIAL ED. OFFICE – CONTINUOUS[/size]

[size=2]Rosie comes back through, out into the hallway and stands, in the river of children -- she's lost Ben --[/size]

[size=2]185EXT. P.S. 16 - FRONT STEPS - DAY (VIDEO)[/size]

[size=2]TVA185News footage of Raymond emerging from voting, waving, and heading back to his car --[/size]

[size=2]TV185NEWSCASTER #6[/size]

[size=2]Candidates made ritual trips to the voting booths today ...[/size]

[size=2]186EXT. ANOTHER POLLING PLACE (VIDEO)[/size]

[size=2]TVA186SIMILAR footage of Arthur emerging, waving to the cameras.[/size]

[size=2]TV186NEWSCASTER #6[/size]

[size=2]... Governor Arthur, casting his ballot in North Platte, will spend election night in the Big Apple, with running-mate Raymond Shaw ...[/size]

[size=2]PULL SLOWLY BACK:[/size]

[size=2]187EXT. THE PLAZA - LATE AFTERNOON[/size]

[size=2]SWOOPING ACROSS on an entrance jammed with cabs and limousines ... then RISE UP -- -- to the WINDOW of a suite high above the street, where sunlight still lingers on the glass, shimmering gold, and PUSH IN --[/size]

[size=2]188INT. PLAZA HOTEL SUITE - LATE AFTERNOON[/size]

[size=2]TV188 A beautiful suit laid out on the king-size bed ... shoes ... the television ON, but silent: network election night coverage ... numbers flashing. Arthur/Shaw are exit poll[/size][size=2] winners in Alabama, Florida, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York ...[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE (V.O.)[/size]

[size=2]The bullet will pass over your shoulder, just missing your head on the way to its[/size][size=2] target ...[/size]

[size=2]189INT. BEDROOM - LATE AFTERNOON[/size]

[size=2]where Raymond sits, stripped to the waist, watching the mirror as his mother looms over him, in a beautiful Chinese silk dress, combing his damp hair.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]... because, of course, the assassin --the deranged, obsessed, tragically[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE (CONT'D)[/size]

[size=2]paranoid, lone gunman -- is trying to kill you.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]The Major is an excellent marksman.[/size]

[size=2]She touches his bare shoulder, leaves her hand there.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]But what will happen to him?[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2](gentle)[/size]

[size=2]The assassin always dies, baby. It's necessary for the national healing.[/size]

[size=2]She takes his shirt off a hanger, he stands up, and she starts to dress him --[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]I'm sure you will never entirely comprehend this, darling, and I know, the way you are right now, this is like trying to have a whimpered conversation with someone on a distant star ... but it must be said, Raymond -- I did this for you -- so that you could have what I could not, what your father didn't want -- what your grandfather dared to dream[/size] possible

[size=2][/size]

[size=2]She runs her hands through his hair. Tears fill her eyes.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]-- when you ran away to join the Army, after that girl, after Jocie -- when you swore you'd never speak to me again, I felt your father's shadow pass across us, and I couldn't let him run you the way he ruined himself.[/size]

[size=2](beat)[/size]

[size=2]That's when Mark Whiting came to me with talk of extraordinary scientific breakthroughs ... Attitude adjustment ... Reconciliation ... Greatness. So I let them take you, and change you. Not too much. Not so much that you'd notice. Just enough to bring you back to me.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Yes, mother.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]And look what you have, now! Look how far we've come! It's working, darling -- they think they own you, but they are very, very wrong. You're not something they can buy and sell, Raymond, not for[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE (CONT'D)[/size]

[size=2]any price -- we're one, and there'll be no stopping us now, will there? We're going to save this country in the hour of its greatest need.[/size]

[size=2]Raymond is dazzled by Eddie's radiance.[/size]

[size=2]RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Yes, mother.[/size]

[size=2]She straightens his tie. Her hands caress her son's shoulders.[/size]

[size=2]ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]How much you look like my father, now -- you have his hands, and you hold your head in the same proud way. And when you smile it's like I'm a little girl again, and --[/size]

[size=2](impulsively kisses him)[/size]

[size=2]When you smile -- when you smile –[/size]

[size=2]Raymond moves to her -- their embrace is all consuming --[/size]

[size=2]190 INT. REGENT WALL STREET - GRAND BALLROOM - DUSK[/size]

[size=2]A DIZZYING OVERHEAD SHOT, slowly twisting: campaign volunteers milling through empty chairs, dozens of t.v. monitors glow with early election coverage, a STAGE BAND warming up, bass thumping, the room festooned with "SECURE TOMORROW" banners, and -- TWO VAST FLOOR-TO-CEILING, VIRTUAL WALL-TO-WALL SCREENS, specially installed for the occasion, define the entire east and west walls of the ballroom. They glow pure blue, as if[/size][size=2] waiting --[/size]

[size=2]191 INT. DISUSED PROJECTION BOOTH - HIGH ABOVE THE FLOOR[/size]

[size=2]A LAMINATED ALL-ACCESS SECURITY BADGE dangles from Anderson's neck as he pushes the last screw back into a cooling vent along the wall.[/size]

[size=2]192 INT. SERVICE CORRIDOR[/size]

[size=2]Anderson emerges as another SECRET SERVICE AGENT comes down the hallway --[/size]

[size=2]ANDERSON[/size]

[size=2]All clear.[/size]

[size=2] He closes the lighting room door.[/size] [size=2]193 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]194 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]195 INT. GRAND BALLROOM - ON THE GIANT SCREEN, ABOVE THE STAGE[/size]

[size=2]remote-cam images of the empty stage and podium blink to life, enormous, finding focus, and --[/size]

[size=2]AT THE BACK OF THE BALLROOM - ENGINEERING CONSOLE[/size]

[size=2]a DIRECTOR and a team of TECH GUYS murmur in headsets, commanding a matrix of monitors, control panels and mixing boards. ON ALL THE SCREENS: different views of the empty stage, from various cameras.[/size]

[size=2]196 ANOTHER ALL-ACCESS SECURITY BADGE[/size]

[size=2]just like Anderson's. PAN UP: MARCO -- resplendent in dress uniform, hair trimmed, a man[/size][size=2] reborn. He looks so rejuvenated, for a moment even we don't recognize him.[/size]

[size=2]INT. SERVICE HALLWAY - MARCO[/size]

[size=2]steps over television cables and power lines, follows their drunken path to the end of a narrow corridor --[/size]

[size=2]UNLIT CORRIDOR[/size]

[size=2]Marco slips in and out of darkness. Passing no one. NOISE echoing insanely from the ballroom.[/size]

[size=2]197 INT. DISUSED PROJECTION BOOTH[/size]

[size=2]Marco enters, closes the door. Takes his coat off and folds it neatly and puts it on the floor. FOLLOW HIM as he stoops to find a HIGH-TECH METAL CASE hidden in the air vent ...[/size]

[size=2] ... he opens it, revealing a disassembled SNIPER RIFLE, stereo RANGEFINDER EYEPIECE, live rounds, sandbag, tripod and a SIDEARM ... ... he turns toward the back of a MASSIVE WALL-GRID of LIGHT FIXTURES facing outward to the auditorium, hot with RED- WHITE-AND-BLUE radiance. He walks to the grid and peers through it --[/size]

[size=2]PUSH OUT:[/size]

[size=2]198 INT. BALLROOM - STAGE - A PROCESSION OF CAMPAIGN WORKERS[/size]

[size=2]walks out of the back of the stage, a VIDEO A.D. with a headset leading them, backpedaling, barking instructions lost in the general din. They all hold big, hand-printed NAME CARDS: Gov. Arthur's aide, TATUM (GQ dreadlocks) clowns around with his "Pres. Arthur" placard. Other p.a.'s and assistants hold: "First Lady Arthur", "Arthur Kids", "Friends of Bob". Mirella Freeman has her "V.P. Shaw"; Gillespie, trying to look[/size][size=2] amused (but not very) his "Sen. Shaw/Veep's Mom" sign.[/size]

[size=2]BACK OF THE ROOM - ENGINEERING CONSOLE[/size]

[size=2]The Director speaks into his headset, his voice broadcast over the house speakers:[/size]

[size=2]DIRECTOR[/size]

[size=2]Okay. Crowd cheering. Much elation.[/size]

[size=2]The president moves to his mark --[/size]

[size=2]CRASH:[/size]

[size=2]199OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]200OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]201OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]202OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]203OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]204OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]205OMITTED [/size]

[size=2]206FLURRY OF IMAGES (VIDEO)[/size]

[size=2]Overlapping news reports:[/size]

[size=2]TV206NEWSCASTERS (#7/#8/#9)[/size]

[size=2]CBS/ABC/CNN/FOX project Robert Arthur and Raymond Shaw to be the next President and[/size]

[size=2]Vice President of/have won the presidential election/have been elected by a landslide --[/size]

[size=2]207INT. REGENT WALL STREET BALLROOM - NIGHT[/size]

[size=2]Bedlam. Packed now with celebrants. CONFETTI rains down, the CHEERING overpowers even the rock and roll band as it strikes up a post-punk rendition of "Yankee Doodle."[/size]

[size=2]208INT. SECURITY COMMAND CENTER - NIGHT[/size]

[size=2]TWO DOZEN MONITORS show different angles of the entrance, corridors, security lanes, but – ROSIE is off to one side with a couple other Feds and a SECURITY GUY, reviewing the entry tapes from earlier -- ON THE SURVEILLANCE MONITOR people whoosh through gates in digitized triple time --[/size]

[size=2]ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]Stop.[/size]

[size=2]-- there's Marco. The image slows. Marco moves herky-jerky through the security station, stop-action. Rosie pretends she's interested in somebody else -- then:[/size]

[size=2]ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]No …[/size]

[size=2]The tape resumes triple-time --[/size]

[size=2]209 INT. PROJECTION BOOTH – MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Deliberately hand-feeding live rounds of ammo into his rifle[/size]

[size=2]-- CLICK, CLICK, CLICK --[/size]

[size=2]-- he's ready.[/size]

[size=2]CRASH:[/size]

[size=2]210 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]211 INT. REGENT WALL STREET BALLROOM - ON THE STAGE211[/size]

[size=2]Arthur and Shaw and their entourage explode victorious from the back, just like in the rehearsal. ICONIC SAMPLING of "regular Americans" in full-dress uniform accompany the[/size][size=2] winners: a soldier, a sailor, a fireman, a marine, a policeman, a fighter pilot, everybody waving, smiling. THE CROWD -- ecstatic.[/size]

[size=2]ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]A tiny island of worry in a sea of celebration. The huge light grids ripple with patriotic bunting effects. She scans the crowd, the perimeter, the balconies ...[/size]

[size=2]ON THE GIANT SCREEN, BEHIND THE STAGE[/size][size=2] an ENORMOUS close-up of Arthur -- THE TWO COLOSSAL WALL-TO-WALL SCREENS are alive with soaring, IMAX-style postcard footage of Americana: Monument Valley, Pike's Peak, Columbia River, golden waving fields of wheat -- city skylines -- perfect beaches -- majestic off-shore oil rigs -- galloping herds of buffalo -- the breathtaking grandeur of American nature, American achievements --[/size]

[size=2]INTERCUT - MONITORS[/size]

[size=2]Various angles on-stage of Arthur, his wife, his family, close and loose --[/size]

[size=2]212 THROUGH MARCO'S SCOPE - SAME TIME[/size]

[size=2]Crosshairs finding, locking on Arthur -- who is waving, and slowing to shake on-stage supports' hands --[/size]

[size=2]213 BALLROOM FLOOR - ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]staring up at the left-side lighting grid ... where she thinks she saw movement. As it blinks OFF, and then ON again in a different pattern, there's the SILHOUETTE of[/size][size=2] something. A figure behind the grid.Marco? She's sure of it -- -- and she's moving, pushing her way toward an exit, pulling a tiny walkie-talkie from her pocket and yelling into it --[/size]

[size=2]214 THROUGH MARCO'S SCOPE:[/size]

[size=2]Rock-steady on Arthur and his hundred-watt smile, as he now separates from the procession and moves to his center stage mark -- just like in the rehearsal. The crowd begins to CHANT.[/size]

[size=2]215 ON THE STAGE - RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]Calm and focused. Smiling.His mother leans close, whispers something --[/size]

[size=2]216 INT. SERVICE HALLWAY - BEHIND THE BALLROOM - NIGHT[/size]

[size=2]Rosie joined in stride by Feds from the command center -- SOUND of the celebration booms through the building --[/size]

[size=2]217 INT. STAIRWELL[/size]

[size=2]Rosie leads the way, two steps at a time, pulling her gun from her holster and checking the clip --[/size]

[size=2]218 MARCO'S EYE[/size]

[size=2]clear and unwavering -- his pupil tightening as --[/size]

[size=2]219 THROUGH MARCO'S SCOPE[/size]

[size=2]Arthur turns to Raymond and gestures --[/size]

[size=2]220 ON THE STAGE - ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]Her eyes shining as Raymond steps forward -- the ROAR of the crowd --[/size]

[size=2]221 INT. PROJECTION BOOTH - MARCO[/size]

[size=2]He slips his finger through the trigger guard --[/size]

[size=2]222 THROUGH MARCO'S SCOPE[/size]

[size=2]Cross-hairs on Arthur. But a DARK BLUR suddenly passes in front of Arthur, momentarily ECLIPSING Marco's view --[/size]

[size=2]223 INT. BALLROOM - ENGINEERING CONSOLE - SAME TIME[/size]

[size=2]A few of the camera monitors have empty frames, waiting for Raymond to arrive, but --[/size]

[size=2]DIRECTOR[/size]

[size=2]Dammit, Shaw missed his first position --[/size]

[size=2](then)[/size]

[size=2]Find him -- go with him --[/size]

[size=2]ON THE STAGE - SAME TIME[/size]

[size=2]Raymond has joined Arthur center-stage, instead of moving to the rehearsed first mark --[/size]

[size=2]224 INT. PROJECTION BOOTH - MARCO[/size]

[size=2]his finger motionless inside the trigger guard --[/size]

[size=2]225 THROUGH THE SCOPE: ARTHUR AND RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]But Raymond is blocking Arthur now --[/size]

[size=2]226 CLOSE ON - MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Frowning. Raymond has made Marco's shot impossible -- kill Arthur, and he kills Raymond too.[/size]

[size=2]227 INT. PROJECTION BOOTH - MARCO[/size]

[size=2]coming off the eyepiece of the scope.[/size]

[size=2]FB227 OMITTED FB[/size]

[size=2]228 He wipes sweat out of his eyes. Blinks.[/size]

[size=2]229 ON STAGE - ELLIE - SAME TIME[/size]

[size=2]Appalled at Raymond's departure from the plan.[/size]

[size=2]230 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]231 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]FB231 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]232 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]233 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]234 ON THE GIANT SCREEN, ABOVE THE STAGE[/size]

[size=2]A sprawling hero shot of MT. RUSHMORE, featuring the traditional quartet, plus stony CGI additions of PRESIDENT- ELECT ARTHUR, and RAYMOND PRENTISS SHAW.[/size]

[size=2]BALLROOM - ENGINEERING CONSOLE[/size]

[size=2]DIRECTOR[/size]

[size=2]Now music –[/size]

[size=2]MUSIC starts: that lush, full orchestral rendition of "Here Comes the Sun" that sweeps through the ballroom.[/size]

[size=2]ABOVE THE BALLROOM - LIGHTING GRIDS[/size]

[size=2]change to rippling American Flags --[/size]

[size=2]235INT. BALLROOM - SAME TIME[/size]

[size=2]Music swelling, the room exploding with color and celebration, lights flaring, side walls alive with iconic American images -- The raucous crowd starting to CLAP in rhythm – people CROONING along with the song's chorus, as -- ON STAGE - A JUBILATION TABLEAU people waving, hugging dancing -- more super-insiders joining the throng onstage, shaking hands, high-fiving -- RAYMOND PRENTISS SHAW waving, staring up into the lights ... searching. Finds the spot he's been looking for --[/size]

[size=2]A236 PROJECTION BOOTH - MARCO[/size]

[size=2]raising his gun again.[/size]

[size=2]B236 RESUME - STAGE - RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]turns and smiles at his mother. Moves toward her --[/size]

[size=2]INTERCUT - VARIOUS MONITORS - SAME TIME[/size]

[size=2]-- Ellie, stunned -- painfully aware that the eyes of the world are on her -- and Raymond moving, taking his mother's hands -- inviting her to dance.[/size]

[size=2]C236 PROJECTION BOOTH - MARCO[/size]

[size=2]places his eye to the scope --[/size]

[size=2]D236 THROUGH MARCO'S SCOPE - ARTHUR[/size]

[size=2]Marco finds him -- adjusts the crosshairs --[/size]

[size=2]236INT. SERVICE HALLWAY - SAME TIME[/size]

[size=2]Rosie and the Feds sprint toward Marco's projection booth --[/size]

[size=2]237ON STAGE - RAYMOND AND ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]as Ellie surrenders to the moment, and enters Raymond's arms -- what else can she do? -- this is her son, her dream is halfway there ... and the President can die another day.[/size]

[size=2]They swirl off to the music --[/size]

[size=2]238THROUGH MARCO'S SCOPE - ARTHUR[/size]

[size=2]perfectly centered in Marco's sights, but then -- -- Raymond and Ellie glide in front of Marco's target -- lingering in Marco's eyeline, Raymond stares up into the scope -- eyes trusting, urging, as if he's saying: now -- -- then ARTHUR IS ALONE AGAIN, in the center of the crosshairs, waving and grinning at the ROARING CROWD like a man who's just been elected President, but -- -- MARCO's crosshairs SWING OVER, finding RAYMOND AND ELLIE[/size][size=2] again --[/size]

[size=2]239STAGE - ON ELLIE - SAME TIME[/size]

[size=2]looking into Raymond's eyes ... follows his gaze up into the dazzling glare of the stage lights -- first shadow of doubt crawling across her --[/size]

[size=2]240THROUGH THE SCOPE - ELLIE AND RAYMOND[/size]

[size=2]They're right in Marco's cross-hairs.[/size]

[size=2]A241 MARCOA[/size]

[size=2]Committed. Almost serene.[/size]

[size=2]241ELLIE[/size]

[size=2]Eyes wide -- realizing too late --[/size]

[size=2]242INTERCUT - MARCO[/size]

[size=2]Pulls the trigger. BAM BAM BAM. Raymond and his mother are kicked back into the horrified[/size][size=2] celebrants on the stage -- -- the same bullets ripping through both of them -- -- toppling together, dead before they hit the ground --[/size]

[size=2]243INT. PROJECTION BOOTH - SAME TIME[/size]

[size=2]The Feds KICK the door in --[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]calmly putting a clip into the handgun from his kit -- starting to raise it --[/size]

[size=2]ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]BEN!!![/size]

[size=2]She shoots him.[/size]

[size=2]244WIDE - THE BALLROOM - NIGHT[/size]

[size=2]BALLOONS cascade down on a nearly black-and-white tableau of pandemonium and chaos, against the soaring wall-to-wall images of America's greatness displayed on the IMAX screens. Screaming and shouting. President-elect Arthur vanishing in a phalanx of Secret Service. VIDEO CREWS pressing in on the stage, morbidly curious ... ... and a strange clearing around the bodies of Raymond and Eleanor Shaw, crumpled and bloody ... ... still locked in their embrace.[/size]

[size=2]A245 INTERCUT - IMPRESSIONS OF NEWS FOOTAGE - ON A MONITOR[/size]

[size=2]TVA245Crowds pressed to the Regent rear entrance -- frantic cops clearing the way for BODY BAGS emerging on stretchers, one, two ... three -- this third one guided and fiercely attended by Rosie through the confusion -- shoved into a waiting morgue truck ... WE ARE:[/size]

[size=2]245INT. A HUGE OFFICE SOMEWHERE – NIGHT[/size]

[size=2]TV245 Donovan stands in front of a massive flat-screen television watching the mayhem at the Regent Wall Street ballroom.[/size]

[size=2]PULL BACK TO REVEAL: a numb collection of horrified Manchurian Global executive office employees, watching in silence ... a visibly shaken Whiting, ashen-faced, head in his hands, eyes red with tears, and Johnston, stunned, pacing --[/size]

[size=2]JOHNSTON[/size]

[size=2]Jesus. Jesus H. Christ ... Jesus H. Christ ...[/size]

[size=2]TIGHTEN ON DONOVAN. Expressionless, except for a cryptic frown. He raises his arm and uses a remote to kill the picture.[/size]

[size=2]SCREEN GOES BLACK.[/size]

[size=2]246 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]247 OMITTED[/size]

[size=2]248 A VIDEO STILL FRAME MATERIALIZES[/size]

[size=2]flickering on. The SECURITY FOOTAGE of Marco entering the Regent Wall Street hotel. His face turned away.[/size]

[size=2]FLIP.[/size]

[size=2]ANOTHER FRAME[/size]

[size=2]Marco turning toward us. His FACE becoming artificially highlighted, digitized -- MORPHED. ZOOM IN as his features BEGIN TO CHANGE. Non-descript. New features emerging.[/size]

[size=2]Caucasian. Not Marco. CLICKING of a keyboard, and -- ROSIE'S REFLECTION -- becomes visible across the screen of THE VIDEO MONITOR on which the security footage flickers.[/size]

[size=2]We are:[/size]

[size=2]249 INT. VIDEO CGI BOOTH[/size]

[size=2]Where an ENGINEER works keyboard and mouse, digitally altering the footage of Marco is Rosie watches, intently, from just behind him. Further back in the same room ... another senior FEDERAL AGENT, Special Agent VOLK, from Marco's interrogation ... and Colonel Garret leans against the far wall, arms folded, expressionless.[/size]

[size=2]MEDIA ICON (V.O.)[/size]

[size=2](fading up)[/size]

[size=2]... the FBI today released security footage of the assassin of Raymond and Eleanor Prentiss Shaw entering the hotel two hours before the fatal shooting ...[/size]

[size=2]The Engineer finishes what he's doing, resets the tape and now it begins to PLAY again, IN REAL TIME -- and we watch a white man in uniform go through security, as:[/size]

[size=2]250NETWORK NEWSCAST (VIDEO)[/size]

[size=2]The footage we've just seen playing behind:[/size]

[size=2]TV250MEDIA ICON[/size]

[size=2]... Authorities say that they have no further information about the identity of the gunman, except that he was a white male, perhaps 30 years of age, and not a member of the armed forces.[/size]

[size=2] (then)[/size]

[size=2]The tragic deaths of the incumbent vice president and his Senator mother mark the end of a family dynasty that has dominated American politics for more than fifty years. The mother and the son, polar opposites on myriad issues, nevertheless managed to promise a "one plus one equals ten" kind of equation to many Americans; the hopeful, heady notion[/size][size=2] that these two somehow comprised a united vision of stunning, almost revolutionary[/size][size=2] breadth and depth ... a combined potential far greater than its parts ... [/size]

[size=2]PUSH PAST her, TIGHTEN IN on the image of the lone gunman and the image explodes into pixels accompanied by -- -- the rising SOUND of the BLADES OF A HELICOPTER, under:[/size]

[size=2]MEDIA ICON[/size]

[size=2]... President-elect Arthur has vowed to bring to justice whatever nation – or nations -- are responsible. Still reeling from the recent tragic loss of Senator Thomas Jordan, Congress has already announced a fresh investigation into Jordan's death, in an effort to[/size][size=2] learn if it is in any way related to ...[/size]

[size=2]251EXT. OCEAN - DAY[/size]

[size=2]WE ARE JETTING LOW and impossibly fast across whitecapped azure water, toward crumbled ruins of a long-abandoned village on an empty beach -- we remember it vividly from[/size]

[size=2]Marco's memory -- arriving to slowly SPIN and hover over the remnants of an ancient caravansary:[/size]

[size=2]252EXT. DESERT ISLAND BEACHFRONT - ARABIAN SEA - DAY[/size]

[size=2]HIGH ANGLE, DOWN on Marco, moving across the intricate, sun-bleached tile work we remember from Noyle's lab.[/size]

[size=2]Dissipated trace of a scaffolding superstructure inside crumbling ruins ...[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]You don't develop a technology like that and waste it on two guys.[/size]

[size=2]He looks to Rosie, who stands in an archway. There are SOLDIERS here, with weapons -- could be here to guard Marco. Could be here to protect him.[/size]

[size=2]ROSIE[/size]

[size=2]We know that.[/size]

[size=2]Marco looks past her, to the water, which stretches out from here, as if to forever.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I remember running.[/size]

[size=2]His arm is in a simple sling. He moves like a man who's been shot, and not quite recovered -- moves past Rosie, out of the broken-down ruins ...[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I had to get out where the sky was.[/size]

[size=2]... Rosie motions the soldiers to stay back, follows him by herself ...[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I had to get to the water.[/size]

[size=2]PULL BACK as they walk down the beach to the sea. A few tumble-down buildings are all that remains of an ancient seaside town.[/size]

[size=2]MARCO[/size]

[size=2]I thought: if I can just get to the water, everything will be okay.[/size]

[size=2]Marco approaches the water's edge, staring out at the uncertain horizon. Nothing but water as far as the eye can see. PULL BACK. And back. And back ...[/size]

[size=2]FADE OUT.[/size]
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#4 Astrid

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Posted 03 February 2012 - 07:38 PM

It seems they kept it very close in the film...

#5 Regina

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Posted 27 July 2012 - 11:04 AM

Whoaaaaa! Thank you for the script! This is essential to my TMC fanfics! <3
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Democracy is non-negotiable.

#6 Seph7

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Posted 27 July 2012 - 11:54 AM

Welcome!! I found it by accident!!

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