Friday, August 12, 2011
Take Me To The Dark Side
Hey there, crime kids. Happy fucking FRIDAY. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.
In Chapter 32 of LEGS, we reach the exciting conclusion of our story, where private eye Carrie Love and super-spy Felina Bella Donna KICK ASS ...
EXT. CLUB FUCK - ROOF - NIGHT
A military HELICOPTER hovers over the roof.
COMMANDOS fly down on cables like lethal puppets in black.
EXT. CLUB FUCK - FRONT ENTRANCE - CONTINUOUS
Dozens of FEDERAL AGENTS and SWAT COPS
prepare for battle behind blockades, shields, assault vehicles.
JOSH TOTT, the HIPSTER AGENT,
shouts into a bullhorn.
Klaus Speer, this is the FBI!
We have the building surrounded!
Come out with your hands up
and no one will get hurt!
I repeat -- this is the FBI!
Everyone please exit the premises IMMEDIATELY!
INSIDE THE CLUB
the music dies. Floodlights snap on.
The crowd freezes, in shock.
They panic, SCREAM. Stampede for the exits.
OUTSIDE THE CLUB
a tidal wave of leather, chrome and rubber rushes out.
IN THE STUDIO
the Bagger raises his wrists, Christ-like.
I haven’t had this much fun
since brunch at Jeff Dahmer’s place.
And, fast as a whip -- so fast we almost can’t see it --
38 Specials FLY OUT from his cuffs -- SLAP into his palms.
Bullets RIP into Valentine and O'Henry, who hit the ground.
The assassin kicks their bodies out. He SLAMS the door.
Speer and the Bagger face off, weapons drawn.
Klaus’ face is now distorted. Swollen. Darker.
It would appear to be a checkmate.
That's stalemate, you fucking immigrant.
One of Klaus' ears falls off. Hits the floor.
He touches his hand to his head, looks at it.
Sees the blood.
Jesus, that's disgusting. Talk about a swelled head --
you look like that guy in "Scanners."
I warn you -- if your head explodes,
you better not fucking get any of it on me.
Carrie giggles. Riding the wave of toxic pleasure.
Hey look, it's Vincent Van Gogh.
Hey, Vinnie -- can you lend me an ear?
Carrie, don’t provoke him!
Shut up! All of you!
looks at Felina. Gives the slightest of winks.
Fellas. I thought we were gonna have a party.
We got two guys, two girls -- really good drugs --
narrows his eyes. Thinks a moment.
Is that door secure?
Secure? It’s a bunker, a fallout shelter, bag-man.
They're gonna have to fucking drop the big one to get in here.
They lower their guns. Look at the women.
Go ahead, shut the bitch up.
Be the star of your own porno.
The Bagger smiles, loosens his belt.
Rape and pillage time.
Klaus goes to the camera.
The Bagger leers at Carrie.
THE BAGGER (CONT'D)
I'm gonna do you first -- you got bigger cans.
Fuck me, killer. Take me to the dark side.
zooms in. Focuses.
unbuckles his trousers.
That’s the idea, you fucking whore.
I’m gonna come -- and you’re gonna go.
Carrie eyes focus. A glimmer of fire.
She concentrates, and --
CLOSE ON --
The toe of her boot. A shiny steel blade FLIES OUT.
She JAMS it in the Bagger's crotch. He SCREAMS in pain.
Take THAT, mystery date from hell.
You’ve been voted OFF the island.
He doubles over, looks at Carrie, in shock.
She works her tongue, takes aim --
and SPITS her chemical weapon in his mouth. Gulp.
A little something to end your plague,
you fucking jack-off.
SHOUTING MALE VOICE (O.C.)
A battering ram POUNDS on the door. It BUCKLES.
A tear gas canister FLIES down from an air shaft --
Hits the floor, starts BILLOWING SMOKE.
Felina RIPS her hands free from the cuffs.
How the hell did you do that?
She pulls out a tiny saw, starts on Carrie's cuffs.
pulls out a grenade. Smiles at Carrie and Felina.
Not so fast, women in peril -- time for a little plot twist.
Go ahead -- rock me, Amadeus.
He pulls the pin. Shakes his head.
Stupid bitch. Falco was Austrian.
An earth-shattering EXPLOSION rocks the studio.
EXT. CLUB FUCK - BACK ALLEY - NIGHT
A dumpster rattles. The lid slowly opens.
Carrie starts to crawl out. She's a battered mess.
A beam of light flashes on her. It's JOSH TOTT.
Holy shit. Are you alright, Miss?
She slips over the edge. Hits the ground.
Yeah, I guess so -- nothing seems to be broken.
Carrie squints at the agent, his jacket.
You're FBI? How OLD are you?
A hell of a lot younger than YOU.
A standoff. The defensive -- and the damaged.
Hey, I'm sorry, okay?
I almost bit the dust back there.
Makes a girl a little cranky.
I want you to stay here, okay?
Don't move. I'm gonna go get a medic.
He turns to go.
Hey, can I ask you a question?
You guys worked with CO2 on this thing, right?
I'm afraid that's classified information.
I know that. Hold on a sec.
This thing is killing me.
She slowly, heavily, unzips the front of her cat suit,
revealing her glistening cleavage in a black lace bra.
God, does that feel good.
The agent takes in the view. Starts to thaw.
I was working with agent Bella Donna.
Do you know her? Have you seen her?
You mean 'the kitten with a whip?'
The one and only.
She split. She was in a big hurry --
said something about taking a trip somewhere.
Stay put. I'll be right back.
He leaves. Carrie looks like she's going to collapse.
A light drizzle starts to fall. She starts walking.
INT. ASTON MARTIN - NIGHT
The rain softly hits the roof.
Carrie blows her nose.
I crack my first real case,
and everybody I want to celebrate with
is either dead or gone.
The cheese stands alone.
With no crackers.
Sorry I don’t have a happy ending for you.
I bet a test audience would hate this part.
Can’t market the downer ending in the multiplex.
The chick sort of gets the bad guys --
but she doesn’t get the girl.
(a bitter laugh)
And it’s a girl.
Like that’s gonna play in Peoria.
She opens the glove compartment.
Takes out a flask.
CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Our conflicted heroine bottoms out.
Spirals down into a black hole of
depression, self-loathing, self-destruction.
McKenzie Phillips can play me in the Lifetime movie.
Carrie listens to the rain.
Coming down hard now.
She takes a long pull of her savior.
Pushes back burning tears.
Someone POUND-POUNDS on the driver's side window.
FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Hey! What are you doing in there?
Carrie rolls down the window.
It’s FELINA. Holy shit.
Felina? You --
There you are.
I've been looking all over for you.
You're kidding, right?
Hold on a sec, I'm getting fucking soaked.
She races around the car. Jumps in.
SLAMS the door.
Real London weather out there.
Don't miss it.
I, uh -- was, uh --
Hey. You've been crying.
Carrie opens her mouth. Nothing.
Oh my god. Did you think I left?
They said you were going on a trip.
(leans over, strokes her hair)
Well, I am. I got five weeks
vacation time coming to me.
And I hear you've got this
smashing little bachelorette pad at the beach.
Silence. Total swoon.
And they kiss. Passionately.
Totally devour each other.
This is it, folks. The real thing.
Felina's knee hits a button on the dashboard.
The roof FLIES OFF.
THE CAMERA pushes up above the car,
the women going at it.
Carrie’s elbow SMACKS a panel on the steering wheel.
Clouds of smoke BILLOW OUT from the tailpipes.
A crowd gathers. FBI. SWAT. CLUB KIDS. A NEWS CREW.
Felina’s got Carrie on her back on the front seat.
No one else in the world.
Carrie’s boot CRACKS against the gear shift.
Knives CHING-CHING from the hubcaps.
The crowd BURSTS into applause.
THE CAMERA pushes higher, higher --
and a shield POPS UP from the trunk.
Machine guns FLIP OUT,
and the crowd SCREAMS, starts RUNNING.
CLOSE ON --
The car’s glove box.
Carrie GRABS IT for dear life.
God, yes -- rule Britannia.
In a throw of passion,
her wrist SLAPS a round black button.
ROBOTIC FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Ejection seat engaged. Good-bye.
Carrie and Felina exchange horrified looks.
The speaker box CRACKLES.
ROBOTIC FEMALE VOICE (CONT'D)
Activation terminated due to
short circuit from -- dampness.
And then, for the first time in my life --
Getting laid saved my ass.