Death On Demand

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 22 of LEGS, the shit hits the fan when private eye Carrie Love and dominatrix/super-spy Felina Bella Donna turns the tables on demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer as he shoots his latest execution ...


INT. THE BAGGER'S CAR - NIGHT
He tosses the phone. Shoves in a CD.
The Sex Pistol’s ominous SUBMARINE
floods into the car. He CRANKS IT UP.

The madman cracks open
an amyl nitrate ampule.
INHALES it viciously.

Sings along at the top of his lungs.

THE BAGGER
'I’m on a submarine mission for you, baby.
I wanna go down on your watery love -- '

INT. KLAUS' STUDIO - NIGHT
The power is back on.
Carrie’s tied to the chair.

Jorel confers with Samms
at the control board.

JOREL
Can you lose a couple of the lights?
I'm fucking frying in this thing.
Now I know why priests always
look so serious and shit.
They're fucking dying.

Felina huddles with Klaus by the camera.

KLAUS
What a deliciously demented idea --
brilliant, fucking brilliant.
A streaming "Divorce Court"
for the information age.
Death on demand.
Felina, when you're good,
you're very good.

FELINA
And when I'm bad,
I fucking come for hours.
(to Samms)
Hey Triple-X --
can I borrow your phallic symbol?

SAMMS
If I can slip one in the chamber.

KLAUS
Enough witty repartee.
Give her the fucking gun.
And give me a light reading.

She grabs it.
Marches over to Carrie.
Kneels at her feet.

CARRIE
That's an awfully big assault weapon
you have there, Mrs. Peel.

FELINA
All the better to end your enslavement,
Miss Moneypenny.

She pulls out a knife.
Starts cutting the rope.

CARRIE
They're letting me go?

FELINA
You're gonna be in the movie.

CARRIE
What? I thought you were --

FELINA
I am. Just keep quiet.
And do what I say.

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT
A clock on the wall reads 10:50.

Jesus Valentine and Robert O'Henry
sit at their desks.

O'Henry works a crossword.
Valentine pours a cup of java.

O'HENRY
I need a nine-letter word for "spy"
that starts with the letter "o."

VALENTINE
I don't do that shit.
It's too much like a fucking test.

Valentine pulls out a flask.
Pours it in his coffee.

VALENTINE
I say we go over there.
He said he'd be back by ten.
It's almost eleven.

O'HENRY
I'm more concerned about
your little cocktail there, Valentine.
Can't wait ten minutes till you're off duty?

VALENTINE
Fuck you, man, it's Irish coffee.
(beat)
You should know, you're a fucking Mick.

O'HENRY
Don't fucking start with me,
you refried wetback.
Go flee across the border or somethin.’

They stare at each other with utter contempt.
Valentine downs his cup.
Gets up. Puts on his jacket.

VALENTINE
Well, I say there's an officer in trouble,
and he needs back up.

O'HENRY
He brought back up.

VALENTINE
Yeah, right --
the dysfunctional family picnic.
(goes to the door, turns)
You coming or what?

He shakes his head.
Valentine storms out.

O'Henry stares at the puzzle.
Thinks. Eureka.

O'HENRY
'Operative,' that's it -- operative!

INT. KLAUS' PRODUCTION STUDIO - NIGHT
Felina commands the stage, twin weapons aloft.

Bernie, still on the cross.
Now awake. Still gagged.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Somehow Felina had convinced Klaus
to let her direct the show.
I don’t know what she was planning --
but I had a funny feeling it wasn’t a chick flick.
(beat)
It was the role of my life. Literally.

KLAUS (O.C.)
Cue the ambiance!

Billows of fog start rolling in.

KLAUS (O.C.) (CONT'D)
I’m too sexy for the music!

Creepy, German synth-pop music bubbles up.

SAMMS (O.C.)
Speed!

KLAUS
And -- action! Take two!

Felina shoves a weapon against Keko’s temple.

FELINA
Detective Keko,
do you take Miss Love to be your ex-wife?
To honor and obey for the rest of eternity?
In death after life? For ever and ever?

Keko’s eyes bulge.
He thrashes against his restraints.

Samms pushes Klaus on the dolly tracks.

KLAUS
grins like the murderous child he is.

KLAUS
She's a natural.

Carrie approaches the crucifix.

FELINA
And do you, Carrie Love,
take Bernie Keko in unholy matrimony?
To go out in flames with him
to the very gates of Hell?

CARRIE
Do I have a choice?
(off Felina’s glare)
Alright, alright. I do.

FELINA
By the power invested in me,
I now condemn you to be sentenced to --

Pause.

FELINA
(whips gun toward Klaus)
Put your hands in the air, Speer.
There's been a little script revision.
(whips other gun at Samms)
You too, agent freak.

Klaus and Samms throw up their hands.
Jorel spins around.

JOREL
What the fuck?

FELINA
(to Carrie)
Here, kittie, kittie --
cover the evil prince.

She FLINGS a weapon to Carrie.

CARRIE
(CATCHES it)
For me? You shouldn't have.
(points it at Jorel)
On the floor, fat boy,
or I'll shoot a rabbit out of your pants.

He gets down.

KLAUS
Felina, have you flipped your lid?
What's going on? I thought we were partners!

CARRIE
Shut the fuck up, you fucking headhunter!
You killed her! And now I've got you!
(clicks the safety)
Yippee-kai-yay, motherfucker.

The lights flicker. Go out.

KLAUS (O.C.)
It would appear the playing field
is now level, my hysterical one.

CARRIE (O.C.)
Shut up! Just shut the fucking fuck up!

Twin ultra violet rays ILLUMINATE
Klaus and Samms.

ANGLE ON:

Felina. Sporting high-tech headgear.

FELINA
Never leave home without it.

CARRIE
Thanks for shedding a little light
on the subject, agent Bella Donna.

Carrie steps into the high beams.

CARRI
I'm really starting to groove
on this spy shit.

She aims her weapon at Klaus’ head.
CLICK-CLICK.

CARRIE
It's funny, I've never killed a man before --
but now I'm getting kinda wet.

FELINA
Carrie, no! We need him alive.

An insane MALE VOICE cackles in the dark.

MALE VOICE (O.C.)
And so do I.

A strobe FLASHES.
It's THE BAGGER.
With a rocket launcher.

And CINDY. Cradling a bazooka.

THE BAGGER
Nobody fucking move.

CINDY
Or we'll rock your world.

For Your Thighs Only

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 21 of LEGS, top level spooks at the Pentagon meet to decide what to do about demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer. They decide to send in 'The Bagger,' the world's most infamous hit man ... who we meet at his secret lair, making love to his 'girlfriend' ...


INT. PENTAGON - BRIEFING ROOM - NIGHT
A giant conference table. Filled with a vast
array of top-level SPOOKS.

BUREAU CHIEF
We have to get in there, now.
Send someone else.
We have to apprehend Speer in the act.

WHITE LAB COAT AGENT
I need him alive -- for research.

ANGRY AGENT
We can’t send Lazenby.
He’s in deep cover in Iran.

HIPSTER AGENT
What about MacNee?
Isn’t he done with that
waterboarding school in Fallujah?

WHITE LAB COAT AGENT
I suggest we send -- the Bagger.

ANGRY AGENT
The Bagger? Are you fucking kidding?

HIPSTER AGENT
Have you been sampling the evidence again, Moore?
The agency hasn’t used him since Kennedy.

ANGRY AGENT
He's a time bomb waiting to go off.
Unreliable. Volatile. Completely insane.
The Bagger is the most twisted psychopath
to ever get a security clearance.

BUREAU CHIEF
And your point is?

INT. THE BAGGER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
An achingly romantic Euro-croon over --

A small and dark lair.
A bare red light bulb glows from above.
Moonlight spills in through the blinds.

THE BAGGER (55), a tall, gangly,
preying mantis-like Ichabod Crane of a man.

Right now he’s making love
with a WOMAN in bed.

Under the covers.
Blonde hair spills over the pillow.

A phone RINGS once.
He stops moving.

THE BAGGER
Fuck me.

It RINGS again. Silence.

THE BAGGER
NO.

He WHIPS off the covers.
GRABS the phone.

We now see his lover.
An inflatable love doll.
Open mouth. Lipstick smeared.

THE BAGGER
What the fuck do you want?
Do you know what fucking TIME it is?
(beat)
Name three celebrities the
American public doesn't know
were assassinated?
(beat)
Fuck you! I'm retired, goddammit!
I'm having a nice quiet evening
here with my woman,
minding my own business --
and you have the nerve to ask me
to just forget everything?
You stripped me of --
(listens, gets excited)
Klaus Speer? That knucklehead.
I haven't seen him in years.
(beat)
I see. Just over the hill.
(beat)
I can do whatever the fuck I want,
as long as I bring him in alive?

The stick-figure does
a little victory dance.
Then stops.

THE BAGGER
Oh, right. Let me see --
John Lennon -- Princess Diana --
and Sonny Bono.

He hangs up.
Looks at the doll affectionately.
Leans over.

Sticks his finger inside her.
Slowly pulls it out. Sucks it.

THE BAGGER
I'm sorry, baby.
Gotta go to work.
(takes her hand)
I'll be back before you know it.
Don't go anywhere, okay?
Keep the bed warm for me.

INT. CLUB CHERRY - NIGHT
David Bowie/T-Rex 70’s rock at an EAR-SHREDDING volume.
Very glam, very glitter. The packed club is jamming.

Smoke machines. Mirrored balls.
Go-go dancers on pillars.

Boys, girls and everything
in between writhe with abandon.

A COOL GUY and a HOT CHICK
twist and shake it.

The babe, (23), mod, waifish,
vibrates like a woman possessed.

THE CHICK
stops dancing.
Opens her eyes.
Pulls out her Blackberry.

CLOSE ON --
The LCD display.

"The geese are in flight.
Pack your lipstick. Love, Mom."

THE CHICK
yells something in the guy's ear.
Bolts for the door.

EXT. CLUB CHERRY - CONTINUOUS
She FLIES down the outside staircase.
Six-inch platforms CLATTER, BANG-BANG
on the metal steps.

ON THE SIDEWALK
she fingers a number on her cell.

EXT. MULLHOLLAND DRIVE - NIGHT
A candy-apple red ‘65 Ford Mustang
convertible stops at a light.
Music blares on the stereo.

IN THE CAR
is the Bagger. Singing along.
His phone rings. He answers it.

THE BAGGER
James?
(beat)
Or is it Cindy tonight?

He lights up a Gitanes.

THE BAGGER
Cindy -- nice.
What are you wearing?
Wait, don't tell me.
I like surprises.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT./EXT. CINDY'S MIATTA - CONTINUOUS
We recognize 'Cindy' as the hot chick
from the club. Surprise.

CINDY
I knew I shouldn't have
worn heels tonight.

THE BAGGER
The clock's running, girlie-girl,
no time to worry about that.
(sips from a flask)
You pack the trunk?

CINDY
Honey, my trunk is always packed --

Getting Medieval

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Hump Day. 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 20 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love and homicide cop Bernie Keko are being held captive by demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer. But Carrie has a trick up her sleeve, given to her by her sudden surprise ally, dominatrix Felina Bella Donna ...

INT. KLAUS' PRODUCTION STUDIO - NIGHT

ON THE CRUCIFIX
Keko slowly comes to. Feels pain.
Sees what they've done to him.
The kindling and wood at his feet.

KEKO
You've got to be the most fucked up
human being who ever walked the earth!

Klaus shoves a mag of film
into the camera.

KLAUS
Stop flirting with me.
I'm still not going to sleep with you.

KEKO
My precinct knows where I am,
they'll be here any minute --
let's talk, I can get you a deal --

KLAUS
What do you take me for,
a studio executive?
Mr. Samms, gag the bitch.
She's become quite tiresome.

KEKO
Don't you know what happens
when a cop gets killed?

Samms shoves a ball gag in Keko's mouth.

KLAUS
The audience award at Sundance.

JOREL
A distribution deal.

SAMMS
You shoot your load.

FELINA
slips a silver penlight-like object
in Carrie's hands.

CARRIE
You want my autograph?

FELINA
It's an assault weapon.
You click it like a pen.

They lock eyes.
Carrie is terrified.

FELINA
I know.
I've been trained to hide my fear.

CARRIE
I’ve been trained to wet my panties.

KLAUS
looks in the camera lens.

KLAUS
Let’s get jiggy for it.
Places please!

JOREL
appears on the platform,
in executioner's robes.

JOREL
(gravely, to Keko)
Pleased to meet you, the name's Death.
Care for a game of chess?

SAMMS
sits behind the board.
Punches a series of buttons.

An ethereal, Gothic chant pulsates.

SAMMS
We be getting medieval now.

KLAUS
looks into the lens. Adjusts it.

KLAUS
Light the tribal torch.

JOREL
ignites it.
Touches it to the kindling.

SAMMS
hears something. Cocks his head.

Touches his ear.
INT. PENTAGON - BRIEFING ROOM - NIGHT
A dozen FEDERAL AGENTS sit around
a huge conference table.

The BUREAU CHIEF barks into the speakerphone.

BUREAU CHIEF
That was a direct order! Answer me!

Static, silence.

BUREAU CHIEF
If you do not respond --
we’ll have no choice but to
terminate with extreme prejudice.

They stare at the speaker box.

SAMMS (O.C.)
(over static)
Hello? I can barely hear you --

ANGRY AGENT
Fucking freaky, perverted son-of-a-bitch.
We never should have put him back in the field.

Samms whispers into his wristwatch.

SAMMS
Could you repeat that?
You're breaking up on me.

INT. KLAUS’ PRODUCTION STUDIO - CONTINUOUS
Carrie watches the flames.
We see the fire in her eyes.

CARRIE (V.O.)
The walls were closing in on me.
I was watching lover number three about to die.
Broiled on the spit like a rotisserie chicken.
Coming soon to a theater near you.(beat)
Funny thing was -- I felt nothing.
I was in shock, in overdrive.
Phasers set to “stunned.”
(beat)
I had two choices.
I could completely lose it,
and have a raving lunatic
padded-cell breakdown --
(beat)
Or I could get my shit together.

She STRAINS against the ropes.
Urgggh. Argggh --

CARRIE (V.O.)
Like Linda Hamilton did at the beginning
of the third act of Terminator 2.

The bindings FLY APART.

CARRIE
Holy shit.

She LEAPS UP. Empowered.
Engulfed. Enraged.

CARRIE
Mother-Fucker!

Everyone turns, startled.
The lights GO OUT.

KLAUS (O.C.)
Nobody move! Felina, grab her.

FELINA (O.C.)
I've already got her.

JOREL (O.C.)
I told you we were using too much juice.

SAMMS (O.C.)
Hold on -- it’s just a fuse.
(stubs toe)
Ow! Shit!

Luc Besson, Eat Your Heart Out

Happy Tuesday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 19 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love and homicide dick Bernie Keko fall into the clutches of demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer in his Hollywood Hills mansion ...


INT. KLAUS' LIVING ROOM - DUSK
Klaus and Keko sit across
from each other sipping wine.

KLAUS
Laura Lang, yes,
I used her in a music video.
The Genitorturers, I think.
(thinks)
No. It was Die Cheerleader.
"Splatter."
(chuckles)
That was a good one.

KEKO
Can you remember
when you last saw her?

KLAUS
Last I heard she went back to London.
She had a little problem
getting off the horsie.

Keko is puzzled.
Klaus pantomimes shooting a syringe.

Felina arrives with Carrie.
Arms around her prize.

FELINA
Klaus, darling, look what I found.
(licks Carrie’s neck)
Mmmm, kibbles and bits,
kibbles and bits.

KEKO
Carrie, what the fuck is going on?

CARRIE
Bernie -- I, ah --

KLAUS
It would appear that she's
stumbled into the arms
of one the villains.

Felina cackles.
Keko reaches for his gun.

SAMMS (O.C.)
OFFICER! Put your HANDS IN THE AIR!
You're UNDER ARREST!

SAMMS
brandishes a pair of Uzis.
Jorel, a steadicam.

SAMMS
C'mon, motherfucker.
Gimmee a reason.

Keko raises his hands.

KEKO
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
What is this, Halloween?

FELINA
(SNAPS handcuffs on Carrie)
I've got the broad.

CARRIE
Hey!

KLAUS
Gentlemen, I'm so glad
you could join us.
(beat)
I always get so excited
on the first day
of principal photography.

KEKO
We know all about your
little home movies, Speer.
Back up is on the way.
You’ll never get away with this.

KLAUS
Mr. Samms, show him what
the director thinks of TALENT.

Samms FIRES a round
into Keko's thigh, BANG.

Keko falls to the floor.
YELPS in pain.
Presses his hands on the wound.

KEKO
You fucking SHOT me!

KLAUS
Get his weapon.
And the one in his boot.

Samms takes the guns.
Jorel comes in for a tight shot.

KLAUS
(to Felina)
And how is your sex object?

Felina reaches in Carrie's jacket.
Grabs her Glock.

FELINA
Disarmed.
(beat)
And completely disarming.

INT. PRODUCTION STUDIO - NIGHT
A surprisingly good castle dungeon set. Dry ice billows.
Moonlight shines through a barred window.


Keko is tied to a giant
wooden crucifix on a platform.
Tourniquet around his thigh.
Out cold.

Klaus adjusts the camera lens.

KLAUS
Luc Besson, eat your heart out.

Felina ties Carrie's wrists to a chair.

CARRIE
Some date you turned out to be.

FELINA
(under her breath)
Listen carefully, Carrie.
The dominatrix bit is a cover.
I'm an agent with CO-2,
a clandestine Interpol black ops unit.
We've been after this freak for years,
and now I've almost got him --
but I need your help.
(meaningfully)
Comprende?

Carrie’s stunned.
Turns her head. Huh?

FELINA
(whispered)
Don't get me wrong.
I still want to
fuck your brains out.

CARRIE
But --

FELINA
Shhh.
Time for my kittie cat
to be strong.

Carrie’s mind reels.
Eyes well up.
Her lip trembles.

Felina crouches.
Ties rope around her ankles.

FELINA
Just do exactly as I say,
and we’ll get out of this alive. Okay?

I Love The Smell Of Estrogen In The Morning

Greetings, crime kids. I bet you wondered where I went. Well, my hard drive started dying, so I had to get it replaced. Took FIVE DAYS. But the good news is my computer is as good as new, and now I can once again continue to provide you the best in hardboiled, pulp-noir entertainment. So -- 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 18 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love and homicide dick Bernie Keko sniff around demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer's Hollywood Hills estate, looking for clues ...


INT. KLAUS' MANSION - LIVING ROOM - DUSK

KEKO
I wonder what the mortgage
is on this place.

Carrie stares at a Helmut Newton --
an Amazon astride a naked model
on all fours wearing a saddle.

CARRIE
Now that’s what I call
'riding Western.'

KEKO
I prefer riding bareback.
(loud whisper)
There's a camera on us.
Keep smiling.

CARRIE
(quietly)
Where is it?
(loud)
I never knew putting your
feet in the stirrups
could look like so much fun.

KEKO
(whisper)
Above the doorway.
(loud)
She must be really
feeling her oats.

CARRIE
(loud)
I forgot how funny you were.
(whisper)
I'm gonna go powder my nose.
I'll be back in five.

ON A VIDEO MONITOR
in black and white.
Carrie slowly moves through the foyer.

EXT. KLAUS' GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
Felina's boots tap-tap-tap
down the spiral staircase.

Black vinyl glistens
in the moonlight.

INT. KLAUS' LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Klaus delivers the wine on a tray.
Elegantly demented.

KLAUS
I thought perhaps you
might change your mind.
It is, after all,
the cocktail hour.

He looks around,
sees Carrie's gone.

KEKO
(bad fake laugh)
She had to use the ladies’ room.
Takes forever. You know women.

KLAUS
(weird smile)
All too well.
She’s probably fascinated
with the bidet.

KEKO
(takes glass of wine)
What the fuck.
I'm almost off duty.

IN THE FOYER
Carrie walks into a darkened doorway.

INT. EXERCISE ROOM - CONTINUOUS
She gropes around in the dim light,
bumps into a Stairmaster.
A sultry voice purrs nearby.

VOICE (O.C.)
Hey there, sexy --
feel like a little cardio?

CARRIE
(jumps, startled)
FUCK.

The lights SNAP ON.
It's Felina.

FELINA
Did my little kittie
get lost on her way back
from the litter box?

CARRIE
Jesus Christ, you
scared the shit out of me.

Pause.

FELINA
Feels good, doesn't it.

EXT. POOL - PATIO - AT THAT MOMENT
Samms and Jorel march on the flagstones
in military fatigues. Faces blackened.
Armed to the gills.

SAMMS
I love the smell
of estrogen in the morning.
Smells like victory.

JOREL
Stop it, you're making me homesick.
My father loves Bobby Duvall.

INT. EXERCISE ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Felina strokes Carrie's cheek.
Inflamed. Transfixed.

FELINA
I've missed you.
You haven't called me.
(beat)
The milk went sour.

She kisses Carrie deeply.
Pulls away. Surveys the damage.

CARRIE
(heart pounding)
I've been -- working.

FELINA
(takes her hand)
Well, you know what they say.

She softly kisses it.
Carrie trembles.

CARRIE
Wh-what do they say?

FELINA
All work and no play
makes Jill a very horny girl --

Your Vice Is My Command

Happy Tuesday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 17 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love and homicide dick Bernie Keko enter the home of demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer to question him, not knowing they're walking into a trap ...


EXT. MAIN HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - NIGHT
Carrie and Keko in the doorway.
She opens her bomber jacket.
Adjusts the Glock in her belt.

Keko rings the bell.

CAMERA pulls back to reveal --
A video camera above them,
red light blinking.

CARRIE
That gold Jaguar is hers.

KEKO
Let me do the talking.
You're too emotionally involved.

CARRIE
What if he recognizes me?
It'll look suspicious if I don't --

The door opens.
It’s Klaus.
No sign of recognition.

KLAUS
Good evening.
How may I help you?
Did you get lost?
These hills can be very -- tricky.

KEKO
Are you Klaus Speer?

KLAUS
Last time I looked, yes.

KEKO
I'm detective Keko,
Santa Monica homicide.
(flashes badge, indicates Carrie)
This is my partner, Detective Love.
We'd like to ask you
a few routine questions.
Can we come in and
talk to you for a few minutes?

KLAUS
Of course, please, come in.
Anything to assist law enforcement.
I believe in good citizenship.

ON A VIDEO MONITOR
in black and white,
Carrie and Keko
stand in the foyer.

JOREL (O.C.)
It's the chick-dick
and the cop.

SAMMS (O.C.)
Two dicks
for the price of one.

Weapons CLICK-CLICK.
CLICK-CLICK.

INT. KLAUS' LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Museum furniture. Sexual art,
photography everywhere.

A view of the city below.
Carrie looks out the window.

KEKO
Nice -- place you got here.

KLAUS
It stirs the creative juices.
Please, have a seat,
make yourselves comfortable.
Can I get you something?
Coffee, tea,
a glass of wine perhaps?

KEKO
I'd love a glass of water, thanks.

CARRIE
I'd love a glass of wine. Please.

Klaus raises an eyebrow.
Keko glares at Carrie.

KLAUS
A woman after my own taste.
White or red?

CARRIE
White, please. Thank you.

KLAUS
(as he leaves)
Your vice is my command.

KEKO
A glass of wine, Carrie?
What the fuck do you
think you're --

CARRIE
Bernie, chill.
I'm just buying us
a little time.

A cork pops in the next room.

INT. KLAUS’ KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
Klaus pours wine.
Talks on his hands-free cell.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. PRODUCTION STUDIO - CONTINUOUS
Felina wears a headset.
Fixes her face.
Fresh red lips.

FELINA
But what about my
fiery love scene --
the Joan of Arc thing?

KLAUS
There's been a change of plan.
A new storyboard.
We're gonna do
JOHN of Arc instead.

FELINA
The cop?

KLAUS
We have to.
He knows something.

FELINA
But what about my screen kiss?
You promised.

KLAUS
Of course, of course.
You come down first,
play with your little mouse.
Have her say cheese for the camera.

FELINA
Meowww.

KLAUS
Tell the boys to make
their entrance in five minutes.
(beat)
We've made a better mousetrap --

Young, Nubile Women With Semi-Automatic Weapons

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. I trust you had a nice weak-end? 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 17 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love convinces her ex-husband, homicide detective Bernie Keko to let her come with him when he goes to question his prime suspect, demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer ...


INT. CITY MORGUE - DUSK
Keko paces the hallway.
Carrie leaves the ladies' room.

Ghostly. Red-eyed.
White t-shirt water-stained.

KEKO
Are you okay?
Can I get you some coffee?

CARRIE
Thanks, but that'll just
come right back up again.
Let's get the fuck out of here.
I need some air.
(starts walking)
I've been puking so much lately
you'd think I was pregnant.

EXT. CITY MORGUE - DUSK
Carrie breathes in the night air.
Coughs a smoker’s hack.

KEKO
Well, maybe you are.
When was you're last time
you had your --

CARRIE
Bernie.
I don't even own
a turkey baster.

They walk toward the car.

KEKO
That’s right, I forgot.
No tab A. Just slot B.

CARRIE
(stops in her tracks)
It just fucking kills you, doesn’t it.
Baby rooster pouts cause he’s
not allowed in the hen house.

KEKO
(opens car door)
C'mon, get in.
I'll drive you home.

She stands, frozen. Angry.
Stubborn. Determined.

KEKO
Get in, your shirt's all wet,
you'll catch a cold.

INT. SQUAD CAR - CONTINUOUS
Carrie’s eyes scan the familiar equipment.
The radio. Blinking lights.
Nightstick. Shotgun.

She makes a decision.

CARRIE
(quietly)
I'm coming with you.

KEKO
You can't come with me on a --

CARRIE
Yes, I can.
And I'm going to.

KEKO
Carrie --

CARRIE
I found the suspects.
(beat)
I know the suspects.

They stare at each other.
He turns the ignition. Sighs.

KEKO
You said Queens Road?

EXT. PRIVATE ROAD ENTRANCE - DUSK
A steep, curved incline
high in the Hollywood Hills.

An elegant wrought iron sign
reads QUEENS ROAD. PRIVATE.

INT. KLAUS' PRODUCTION STUDIO - DUSK
The gang watches:
Klaus, the proud director.
Jorel takes notes.
Samms, mesmerized.
Felina, bored.

ON THE MONITOR
Megan's head in the sand.
Her eyes slowly open.

She looks around. Looks up.
Screams. A wave crashes.

IN THE STUDIO
Felina stands.
Goes to the door.

FELINA
If you're going to watch it again
I'm going outside for a fag.

She leaves.

JOREL
What got her bloomers in a bind?

SAMMS
You know women,
she's probably PMS-ing.

KLAUS
Well, there is a connection
between the moon, the tides,
and a woman's --

A doorbell rings.
Felina rushes back in.

FELINA
Guys, there's a big,
fat cop car out there.

KLAUS
Everyone remain calm.
There's no need to panic.
I'll go talk to the fuzz.
(beat)
Jorel, monitor us on the video,
put in a fresh tape.
Michael, prepare the TWAT arsenal.
We’ll do it in digital video.
(as he leaves)
Ach -- I just love improvisation.

Jorel picks up the steadicam.
Samms races into the back room.

FELINA
I'm afraid to even ask --
but just what the fuck
is the TWAT arsenal?

JOREL
It was a take-off
we did on SWAT.

Samms emerges --
armed to the teeth, Rambo-like.

SAMMS
There's just something about
young, nubile women
with semi-automatic weapons.

Dangerous Curves

Hey there, crime kids. Happy fucking FRIDAY. Are you ready for the WEAK-END? Then 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 16 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love meets with her ex-partner and ex-husband, homicide detective Bernie Keko, who asks her to identify Meg's dead body. Meanwhile, demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer watches the video he shot of her murder ...


EXT. PERRY'S BEACH CAFE - DAY
A burger stand at Santa Monica beach.
Keko sits at a table sipping coffee,
watching the flesh parade.

EXT. VENICE BEACH BIKE PATH - CONTINUOUS
Loud, catchy girrrl-punk.

Carrie skates like a bat out of hell to the music.
A demon vision in a barely-there bikini.
Dangerous curves, indeed.

Men pass her, do double-takes.
A BICYCLIST wipes out.

But she's oblivious.
On a mission from God.
Or someone.

UP AHEAD
a group of overweight TOURISTS
block the path.

CARRIE
(yells)

On your left!
Startled, confused, they each move
in different directions.

Carrie almost falls,
barely squeezes through.

CARRIE
(over her shoulder)
Touristas! Go back to Pepperidge Farm!

She continues north. Pumps harder.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Do you believe in karma?
Megan has fucking disappeared.
When I went to her house
this morning to apologize,
I found another fucking crime scene.
(beat)
Poor Bosco got it right between the eyes.
No disclaimer about animals
not being harmed on this beat.
And this is only the middle of act two.
(beat)
Lately I feel like the cops should
just put that yellow tape around my life.

CLOSE ON --
Carrie’s face.
A tear trickles down below her shades.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Please. You gotta forgive me --
I'm the hero, remember?
You're supposed to root for me.
Don’t give up on me yet.

EXT. PERRY'S BEACH CAFE - CONTINUOUS
Carrie glides onto the patio.
Spots Keko. Wheels over.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Good 'ol Bernie, still looks
ridiculous in plainclothes.
(beat)
I hope for his sake he's packing.
It's open season on my ex's.

She WHOOSHES up to his table.
Stops on a dime.

CARRIE
Good day, officer. This seat taken?

KEKO
Do you have a license for that bikini?
I might have to give you a citation.

CARRIE
For what? 'Reckless tan lines?'

She sits. Grabs his cup of coffee.
Takes a sip.

CARRIE
You don't mind, do you?

KEKO
I never did, did I.

Memories linger.
She blows her nose into a napkin.

CARRIE
Thanks for coming.
I'm sorry about the
scene at the station -- I was --

KEKO
(softly)
You don't need to explain,
Carrie, it's okay.
I mean, after all you've been through --

CARRIE
I shouldn't have brought her along.
(beat)
I'm sorry.

KEKO
Apology accepted.
(beat)
You should show your
soft side more often.
It's very appealing.

CARRIE
(blushes slightly)
Thanks.
(lights a cigarette)
Then as long as everyone
around me keeps dying,
I'll be fucking irresistible.

Keko takes a smoke.
She gives him a light.

CARRIE
I thought you quit.

Pause.

KEKO
You know, we still don't
have a positive I.D.
on the dead female at Point Dume.
It might not be her.

CARRIE
But she was a cop,
for chrissakes. They know her.

KEKO
It's not so easy -- they, uh --
cut off her hands -- and, uh --
her head.

Carrie JERKS, drops her cigarette
in Bernie’s coffee. Pssst.

KEKO
We were wondering if she
had any -- uh, you know --

CARRIE
Distinguishing marks.
You need my I.D.

KEKO
Yeah.
(beat)
I’m sorry.

She looks away.
Bites her lip.

CARRIE
Thanks -- but sorry
doesn't even begin to cover it.


INT. KLAUS' PRODUCTION STUDIO - DUSK
Klaus, Felina, Samms and Jorel
sit at a large conference table,
watching a big screen expectantly.

SAMMS
I love dailies.

KLAUS
But these are nightlies.

MONITOR POV:
Everyone is riveted.
Except Felina, pale, uneasy.

KLAUS
See the look on her face?
The unspeakable horror --
the helplessness.
She knows she is about to die.
(beat)
Beautiful. Just beautiful.

From Here To Depravity

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 15 of LEGS, demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer and his crew shoot their latest cinema verite of death at dawn at Malibu beach ...


EXT. BUNGALOW - NIGHT
A techno crime theme percolates over
shaky, hand-held footage of an
old bungalow behind the Venice boardwalk.

Jorel carries a steadicam on his shoulder.
Samms holds a strobe.

Klaus leads the way.
He slips on a pig snout half-mask,
which covers his eyes and nose.

KLAUS
(into the mike)
Tonight on our show,
a lovely officer of the law
will die a bizarre death
at the hand of a twisted filmmaker.
(dramatic pause)
What makes this murder even
more chilling, more unspeakable,
is that you’re going to see it
through the eyes of the killer.

They approach the door.
Klaus starts picking the lock.

INT. MEGAN'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Megan's crashed out.
A huge ROTTWEILER snores at her feet.

The bedroom door slowly opens.
Kinky crew shuffles in.

KLAUS
(whispers)
Shit.

The canine lets out a rumble.
Some poodle dream.

JOREL
Nice doggie --

The dog stirs. Wakes. Growls ominously.
The strobe flashes. Camera whirs.

Klaus pulls out a gun.
SHOOTS the dog -- THWAP. It YELPS.

Megan bolts upright.
Blinded by the lights.

MEGAN
Who's there?! What the fuck are you --

Klaus CHARGES the bed. JUMPS on her.
CRAMS a rag in her mouth.

She STRUGGLES violently.
Shakes. Then goes limp.

VIDEO POV

KLAUS
(big smile for the camera)
Coming up next, our fallen angel
takes flight to the beach --
where she has her last stand in the sand.

EXT. BEACH - DAWN
A secluded cove somewhere south of Malibu.
Sun is rising.

Dappled pink and grey streaks smear the sky.
Waves CRASH against the rocks in a spray of foam.

Megan is buried in the sand
up to her neck, gagged, eyes terrified.

A breaker POUNDS behind her,
then washes over her head.

She WHIPS her head back and forth.
Seaweed on her eyes.

Klaus shoots with the steadicam.
Samms holds a boom.

Jorel reflects the available light
with a white board.

JOREL
It's getting light out.
We gotta get outta here
before the fucking joggers come by.

KLAUS
Before the climax?
What are you, a story analyst?

Another wave CRASHES on top of her.
Then rolls away.

Her neck SNAPS -- crack.
Goes limp. Eyes forever frozen.

KLAUS
Fade to black.

Klaus zooms in, circles around her.
Samms rushes over to Megan's lifeless head.
Takes out the gag.

KLAUS
What the fuck are you doing?
Get out of the shot!

SAMMS
I'm gonna resolve the character arc!

He pulls down his pants --
as another wave crashes down.

KLAUS
delighted, grins lewdly.

KLAUS
Maybe we call this one --
(beat)
"From Here to Depravity."

America's Bloodiest Home Videos

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Hump Day. 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 14 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love and her ex, patrolwoman Megan Paul hang out in Carrie's dive bar while she drowns her sorrows. To make matters worse, she then picks a fight with Meg, which ends disastrously ...


INT. DIVE BAR - NIGHT
An old, dirty, dimly lit dump in a Venice alley.
80’s hair metal plays on the juke.

Carrie and Megan sit
at the bar with cocktails.

LUPE, (40), the bartender,
a curvy fireplug
of Hispanic splendor,
watches a soccer game on a tiny TV.

CARRIE
Can I get another shot, Lupe?

The mix-mistress holds up a finger,
saying "just a minute."

MEGAN
How come we never came here?

CARRIE
I come here to drink.
Do a Garbo.
(beat)
Consider yourself on the list.

The Latin beauty pounds on the bar.

LUPE
(at the TV)
Puente, fuckin maricon!
Go back to fuckin' Havana, shit-head!
(calm, to Carrie)
Comin' right up, Legs.
What about your date?
Can I freshen your spritzer, hon?

MEGAN
(blushes)
I -- I'm okay, thanks.

Lupe pours a shot of Jagermeister,
slides it over.
Sets the bottle down on the bar.

CARRIE
(takes it, toasts)
Here's reaching up your skirt.

She slams it down. Shudders.

MEGAN
Carrie, I know you're upset,
but how are we gonna solve this case
if all you do is run to a bar
every time you get scared?

CARRIE
Gimmee a fucking break.
Laura's gone, dead.
I hired one of the killers --
then I fucked one of the killers --
then I saw one of
America's Bloodiest Home Videos.
(beat)
I think I have the right
to have a couple of cocktails.

MEGAN
I know, but I don't think
getting completely fucked
up is a way to --

CARRIE
And what if I don't care
what you think, huh?
You think I care what you think?
It's not like it was, Meg,
we're just working together.

Ouch. That hurt. Megan stands.
Slides on her jacket.

CARRIE
Oh, so now you're gonna split, huh?
That's okay, go ahead, leave,
I'll be fine by myself.
I'm a big girl, and I'll be
just fine by myself.

MEGAN
I'm outta here.
Gonna leave the big girl
alone with her bottle.
(beat)
All of a sudden
I feel like a need a shower.

CARRIE
Then why are you still here?

MEGAN
It's called love,
you fucking drunk!
Ever heard of it?
You might wanna check it out sometime!

CARRIE
(screams)
What the fuck did you just --

MEGAN
Shut up, Carrie, just shut up!
I'm sick of your fucking drama!
(points at the bottle)
You've made your choice.
I hope the two of you are happy.

She whirls around.
Marches toward the door.

CARRIE
(over her shoulder)
I've known all along
that you still wanna fuck me.

Megan stops. Cocks her head.
The bar is riveted.

MEGAN
I know Laura’s big secret.
Some dyke you turned out to be.
(beat)
I actually thought you had changed.
I felt sorry for you.
Funny. Now I don't.

And she's gone.
A RED-FACED DRUNK claps.

Carrie shoots him a look.
He drops his head.

The jukebox dies out.
The crowd cheers softly on the TV.

Carrie takes a sip of beer.
Pours another shot.

The juke click-click-clicks.
The romantic, overwrought 80's classic
ABC’s THE LOOK OF LOVE starts playing.

Lupe looks at Carrie.
Smeary eyes. Not going to cry.

LUPE
Hey, honey, are you okay?

CARRIE
This was -- our song, Lupe.
Our song.

LUPE
How could I forget?
I used to have to hose down
the booth after the two of you.

Carrie tries to smile. Can't.

CARRIE
You're Catholic, right?

LUPE
(nods)
Bless me father for I have fucked.

CARRIE
So is this how I'm supposed to
pay for my sins?
(lurches, clutches stomach)
I'll be right back,
I don't feel so --

She leaps off her stool.
Races to the head.

INT. BAR BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
A small, crusty, vile latrine.
Carrie RETCHES violently into the bowl.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I know what you're thinking.
God, I thought she was so cool.
Now I'm not so sure.

She SPITS in the sink.
Cups water into her mouth. Rinses.

CARRIE (V.O.)(CONT'D)
I might be a lot of things.
But I'm usually willing to admit
when I've fucked up.

IN THE MIRROR
she splashes her face.
Looks at herself. What a mess.

CARRIE (V.O.)
And tonight I really fucked up.
(beat)
Big time --

Bloody Veg-O-Matic

Happy Tuesday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In chapter 13 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love and undercover cop Megan Paul go meet with Carrie's client Michael Samms, unaware that he's part of demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer's crew, and make a grisly discovery ...


EXT./INT. FREEWAY - CARRIE’S CAR - NIGHT
A swingin’ techno remix of a jazz standard propels --
Carrie and Megan, flying up the 405
in the silver Porsche.

The seats littered with fast food containers.

MEGAN
(eating french fries)
You're not even a little nervous?
What if he’s the killer?

CARRIE
(holds up her burger)
Ever see a Bengal tiger play with an animal
he's wounded right before she eats it?

She shoves it in her mouth.
GROWLS.

Megan does a take.
Looks in her food bag.

MEGAN
Good thing we got extra napkins.

INT. SAMMS' LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
The stereo plays Wagner at a deafening volume.

Samms sits on the couch.
Piggy eyes glued to the screen.

AT THE FRONT DOOR
the music thunders from within.
Carrie rings the bell.

MEGAN
It’s nine-o-clock.

CARRIE
What’s up with the opera?
Where’s Paulie Walnuts?

IN THE LIVING ROOM
Samms, in a daze. Licks his lips.
Sips his wine.

AT THE FRONT DOOR
Carrie pushes it again.

CARRIE
He can't hear it with that
fucking Brunhilda shit going on.

IN THE LIVING ROOM
fat fingers work the remote.

ON TV
blood splatters the Wheel of Misfortune.

THE FRONT DOOR
swings open. The girls tip-toe in.

IN THE LIVING ROOM
Samms is oblivious. Engrossed.
Carrie creeps up behind him.

CARRIE
MICHAEL.

SAMMS
Fuck!

He JUMPS. Sees the women.
PUNCHES off the TV. The music.

CARRIE
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,
barge in on you like that,
but your music was so loud --

MEGAN
And your door was open. Sorry.

SAMMS
That's okay.
(beat)
Man, you scared the shit out of me.

MEGAN
That looked like a pretty nasty
horror movie you were watching.

SAMMS
Yeah, it’s pretty -- nasty.
(beat)
Please, have a seat,
make yourselves at home.
I've gotta make a quick phone call,
and I'll be right back.
Can I get you a beer or something?

MEGAN
I'm fine, thank you.

CARRIE
I'd kill for a beer.

Megan shoots her a look.

SAMMS
Comin’ right up.

He leaves.
Carrie turns on the VCR.

CARRIE
(whispers)
Holy shit.

MEGAN
Hey, isn't he the guy we saw at the --

Carrie grabs Megan’s arm. Shushes her.
Motions to stay there.
Creeps toward the kitchen.

AT THE DOOR
Carrie listens to Samms on the phone.

SAMMS (O.C.)
She brought Daisy Do-Right.
(beat)
Yeah, they’re in my living room right now.
I told you she knew something.

She darts over to Megan.
Pulls her toward the front door.

CARRIE
(loud whisper)
We gotta get the fuck outta here.

IN SAMMS' BEDROOM
he sticks the handgun in his waistband.
Buttons his jacket.

EXT. DRIVEWAY - CONTINUOUS
Tires SCREECH.
The Porsche ROARS down the driveway.

Turns onto the street.
Peels rubber. Backfires -- BANG.

IN SAMMS' BEDROOM
he hears the car.
Bolts for the door.

SAMMS
Goddammit!

INT. CARRIE'S CAR - CONTINUOUS

MEGAN
What's going on?
What happened?
What did you hear?

CARRIE
That was no
Nightmare on Elm Street, Meg.
That was real.

MEGAN
That was real?
How could you --

CARRIE
I'll tell you how.
The human smoothee
in the bloody veg-o-matic --
(beat)
Was my client's wife.

INT. KLAUS' LAND ROVER - NIGHT
Klaus drives in the Hollywood Hills.
Barks into his cell.

KLAUS
You fucking idiot!
You left the room to call me?
Didn't you realize a P.I.
and a cop are going to snoop around?
(beat)
I don't pay you to think, fuck-head.
Now we have to shoot right away.
You’ve messed it all up, you prick.
Now I have to shoot on fucking DV.
I wanted to shoot this on 35 millimeter.
My customers pay for production value.
(beat)
Jorel's on his way.
You have the cop's address at the beach?
(beat)
Funny you should ask.
I'm thinking reality show.
(beat)
What do you think of --
'World’s Wildest Executions?'

The Wheel Of Misfortune

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. 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 12 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love goes to the shooting range to blow off some steam. Meanwhile, demented German snuff filmmaker is also shooting something. A murder. On film. In some ungodly 'game show.'


INT. FIRING RANGE - DAY
A racy, infectious, acid-jazz detective theme.
Rows of stalls face targets -- some bulls-eyes,
others silhouettes of crooks with weapons.

GUNSHOTS pierce the air.

Carrie assumes the position.
Aims her 9mm Glock with both hands.
PUMPS a shot.

CLOSE ON --
A bullet ZINGS through the crotch
of a male silhouette.

CARRIE
shoves in another clip.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Whenever I need to blow off some steam,
vent my anger -- or just feel
the adrenaline rush of cold blue steel,
I head over here and blow off a few rounds.

She resumes her stance.

CLOSE ON --
Six rapid shots RIP the target --
forming a perfect circle around the crotch.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Don't get me wrong, I don't hate men.
Just the kind that would cut off a woman's head.
No chick would ever do that.

CARRIE
reloads again.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Notwithstanding Lorena Bobbit.

An off-duty COP walks by,
eyes her appreciatively.

COP
Nice cluster, Legs.
Lookin' good today.

She eyes him warily.
Pumps a fusillade of bullets.

CLOSE ON --
A smiley face of holes on the target's head.

Pause.

CARRIE (V.O.)
So many men.
(beat)
So few bullets in a gun.

EXT. KLAUS’ ESTATE - NIGHT
A Hollywood Hills compound.
The main house juts out on a cliff
into the sky like a dare.
Life on the edge.

EXT. GARAGE - NIGHT
An elegant garage by the pool.
Upstairs windows blacked out.

ON THE SECOND FLOOR
is a brightly lit soundstage.
A familiar looking set.

The “Wheel of Misfortune.”
Just like the one on TV.

But this game is a little different.

Tied to the wheel is SHARON SAMMS (23),
a blue-eyed, bottle-blonde
scoop of vanilla perfection.
Naked. Eager. Excited.

Klaus sits nearby on a dolly
shooting in Panavision.

We hear cheerful game-show music,
then laughter, applause --
and then, in unison --

CANNED AUDIENCE (O.C.)
Wheel -- of -- Misfortune!

Felina stands near the puzzle board
in a blonde wig, white vinyl and an opaque mask.
She smiles. Waves at the camera.

Jorel’s at the podium.
Resplendent in white face.

A natty Hugo Boss ensemble.
He looks into the camera, grins broadly.

JOREL
Hello, America! Welcome back to the game!
(reads off a card)
So Sharon, it says here you’re an actress.
Have you been in anything we might have seen?

SHARON
Well -- I just did an infomercial for
Chuck Orleans’ anal bead colonic --
but I’m hopin’ that being on “The Wheel”
will get me noticed in Hollywood.

JOREL
(chuckles to himself)
Oh, this’ll get you noticed.
(loudly)
Alright -- let’s play the game!

FELINA
gestures at the puzzle board.
It reads “D_E, D_E, MY LOVELY."

SHARON
looks at the phrase. Thinks. Nope.

SHARON
I guess I’m gonna have to take a spin, Pat.
I need to buy a vowel, I think.

JOREL
Thatta-girl. Hold onto your 401k --

He grabs the wheel -- and SPINS it.
Sharon goes FLYING AROUND like a pinwheel.

SHARON
Hey, that's too fast!

Samms rushes in, flushed. Out of breath.

KLAUS
Where the fuck have you been?
We’ve already started.
Push the fucking dolly.

SAMMS
Fucking traffic on the 405.
You think I wanted to miss this?

SHARON
goes round and round.
The wheel slows, slows,
the tab flick-flicking on dollar amounts --
until it lands on --

YOU LOSE.

SHARON
Shit.

JOREL
I’m sorry, Sharon. You lose.
(to Felina)
Well, I guess everyone can’t be a winner.
Right, Vanna?

FELINA
(brightly)
You know what they say, Pat --
it’s not whether you win or lose,
but if you get to live.

She places two letter "I's" on the board.
The puzzle now spells "DIE, DIE, MY LOVELY."

JOREL
And you were so close.
(to the camera)
Well, that’s it until next time.
(to Sharon)
Ready for your final spin?

SAMMS
pushes the dolly, trips.
Knocks over an apple box.

KLAUS
(hisses)
Watch it, asshole -- we’re rolling.

SHARON
(sees Samms)
Michael! What are you doing here?

SAMMS
'Till death do us part, babe.

Felina fastens a ball gag
around Sharon's neck --

SHARON
Hey, what are you doing?

And shoves the ball in her mouth.

FELINA
It's time for the lighting round, Pat!
Let 'er rip!

Jorel PUNCHES a remote.
The wheel starts SPINNING. Fast.

A circular plexiglass wall
starts rising up around it.

CANNED AUDIENCE (O.C.)
Wheel -- of -- Misfortune!

A ceiling fan with sharp,
steel blades starts to descend.

Sharon STRUGGLES WILDLY
against her restraints.

FELINA
(smiles, waves)
Thanks for tuning in!
See you next time!

CAMERA POV
The blades reach the lip
of what is now a glass cylinder.

A giant, evil cuisinart --
about to make a "Sharon-shake."

ANGLE ON:

KLAUS
shoots the action, mesmerized.

SAMMS
stares, lust in his eyes.
Rubs his crotch.

THE CYLINDER
is SPLATTERED with blood.

KLAUS
Cut, print -- that's a take.

Samms lights up a smoke.
Smiles at Klaus.

SAMMS
Wife-us interruptus.

KLAUS
And no alimony payments.

Hook, Line and Stinker

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 11 of LEGS, after private eye Carrie Love discovers who the culprits are who killed her lover, she heads to a local dive to drown her sorrows. Meanwhile, demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer and dominatrix Felina Bella Donna plot their next move ...


INT. BAR - DAY
Chez Jay, a trendy beach dive.
Old. Dark. Dank.

The jukebox softly plays
an old, Sinatra-like classic.

Carrie and Megan sit at the bar
with a couple of DRUNKS.

The BARTENDER watches a
Mexican soap opera with the sound off.

CARRIE
(to the bartender)
Can I get a Corona
and two shots of Cuervo?

He nods.

MEGAN
A Diet Coke, please.
(to Carrie)
Isn't it a little early in the day
for a shot and a beer?

CARRIE
"Will Success Spoil Laura Lang."

MEGAN
All porn films have
stupid names like that.
It’s a takeoff on that
old Jayne Mansfield flick.

The bartender serves them.
Carrie smiles grimly.

She salts her wrist, licks it.
Does a shot. Then another.

Bites a lemon wedge.
SLAPS the bar.
Closes her eyes.

CARRIE
Two more, please.

He pours them.
Fascinated. Concerned.

MEGAN
Don't you think you should
slow it down a little bit?

CARRIE
(downs one)
Pretty fucking funny, huh.
(downs the other)
Who knew snuff films
had wrap parties?

MEGAN
Snuff films?
What are you talking about?

The bartender lifts the bottle
like a question.

Carrie nods. He pours.

CARRIE
Just to refresh your memory --
Jayne Mansfield was decapitated
in a car accident.
And the crew? My new client,
the dominatrix I fucked last night,
her Gestapo friend, some fuck-head
named after Superman’s father,
whoever the fuck he is --
and the "special guest star"
is my headless lover?
(downs the shot)
Do I need to draw you a
fucking picture?

EXT. CAFÉ MED RESTAURANT - DAY
A sultry bossa nova drum-and-bass
simmers in the background.

The swanky bistro on Sunset Boulevard
is bustling at lunchtime.

Trendy patrons sit at cafe tables,
el fresco.

A cell phone rings.
Everyone grabs theirs, checks it.

EXT. CAFE TABLE - CONTINUOUS
Klaus and Felina sit eating salads.
Very glam.

FELINA
(on her cell phone)
Do I need to draw you a fucking picture?
(beat, listens)
Listen, Sultan, I don't care how much --
(beat, angry)
No!

She snaps it shut.

KLAUS
He really wants you
to eat dog shit?

FELINA
From his royal Doberman.
And he keeps upping the price.

She takes out a cigarette case.
Lights up a red Sherman's.

FELINA (CONT'D)
And you wonder why I want to
take down my shingle.

KLAUS
What a shame.
I always wanted to shoot in Brunei.

Pause.

FELINA
I still don't understand
how you can get away with
selling snuff films on the net.
What's gonna stop the Feds
from tracking your location?

KLAUS
They’re not snuff films --
you need to think as if
there were no box.
They’re programming. Product. Content.
The ultimate reality show --
fulfilling the American public’s
craving for the worst of humanity.
(beat)
And as for the Feds --
they’ll never find me.
My domain uses a split-mirror server.
Anyone who tracks the website
gets reflected back onto a
shitload of addresses across the country.
It looks like I'm at a thousand places at once.

FELINA
How diabolical.
(beat)
Don’t tell me. German technology?

KLAUS
Is there any other?
(beat)
So -- you ready for the matinee?

INT. CARRIE'S KITCHEN - DAY
A lush, feminine trip-hop beat
on the mini-stereo.

Carrie pours a cup of coffee,
cigarette dangling from her lip,
phone cradled against her chin.

CARRIE
Samms, we gotta talk --
I gotta lead. A big one.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. SAMMS' BATHROOM - DAY
Samms sits on the toilet on the phone.
His business hits the water. PLOP.

SAMMS
(nervous)
Really? What'd you find?

CARRIE
I never discuss a case over the wire.
Can you come over?

SAMMS
I can't, I gotta be here,
I'm expecting a messenger.
Can you come here, say around nine?

CARRIE
I'm there, with bells.

He flushes the toilet.

INT. CARRIE'S KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

CARRIE
Freak. I think he was taking a shit.

MEGAN
Ew.
(beat)
Did he buy it?

CARRIE
Hook, line and stinker.

INT. SAMMS' BEDROOM - DAY
Samms screws a silencer
onto a chrome 357 Magnum.

SAMMS
(on the phone)
She knows something.
You said she was a fuck-up.
(beat)
Don’t worry. We’ll fuck her up.

Basic Instinct

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 10 of LEGS, on the way to police headquarters, patrolwoman Megan Paul reads private eye Carrie Love the riot act after learning that she slept with dominatrix Felina Bella Donna. We then meet Carrie's ex-husband, homicide dick Bernie Keko, who then also gets in her face ...


EXT. SANTA MONICA - MAIN STREET - DAY
The Porsche cruises into a
cluster of municipal buildings.

CARRIE (V.O.)
The tricky thing about female ex's
is that they get just as jealous
as when you were together.
(beat)
What the fuck was I thinking?
'Felina Bella Donna.'
Sounds like a fucking
Stevie Nicks album.

They pull up in front of Police Headquarters.

IN THE CAR

MEGAN
You slept with her?
You fucking slept with her?
She could be a suspect, Carrie.

CARRIE
What the fuck do you care?
And besides -- I figured --
since she's a player --
she might know --

MEGAN
Laura's body isn't even fucking cold yet.
I thought she was the love of --

CARRIE
(screams)
She was! Okay? Alright?
She was! Okay?!

She loses it, breaks down,
sobbing. Megan comforts her.

MEGAN
Shhhh, it's okay, it's okay,
I'm sorry, baby, shhh --

CARRIE
Please don't hate me.
I got carried away.
It was so nice not to have to
face my empty bed.

MEGAN
Don't remind me.

INT. POLICE SQUAD ROOM - DAY
The cheap, shitty, standard-issue
institutional decay.

Carrie and Megan sit across from
homicide detective BERNIE KEKO (35),
a greasy Mickey Rourke type.

Bitter. Full of swagger. Venom.
And at this moment --
sizing up his ex-wife.

KEKO
Still with the short skirts I see.

She uncrosses -- then recrosses her legs.
Taunting.

CARRIE
Can't help it.
It's my basic instinct.

KEKO
I'm sorry, Care.
I wish there was something I could --

CARRIE
Please don't call me 'Care,' Bernie,
that was a long time ago.
(goes in for the kill)
What the fuck was I thinking?
It's not like you ever lost
someone special.

MEGAN
Carrie, chill out.

Carrie lights up, blows a smoke ring.
It hangs in the air.

KEKO
There's no smoking.

She stands. Sits on his desk.
Gets in his face.

CARRIE
Go ahead. Cuff me.
(beat, off his silence)
You're still a fucking jellyfish,
aren't you?
(to Megan)
All of a sudden I need some air.
It’s awfully -- stuffy in here.
(goes to the door)
I'll be out in the car.
You try your luck.

She splits. Silence.
Keko grimaces at Megan.

KEKO
I have nothing to say to you.

MEGAN
Listen, I know you don't like me,
and I'm not even gonna try to
reason with your homophobia,
but I suggest you start getting
used to seeing these baby blues.

KEKO
Oh yeah? And why might that be?

MEGAN
You didn't hear about my
transfer to homicide?

INT. CARRIE'S PORSCHE - CONTINUOUS
Carrie punches the gas,
tears out of the parking lot.

MEGAN
He gave it to me, Carrie.
They have a lead.

CARRIE
(pounds the wheel)
Yes.
(off Megan's silence)
So? C'mon, tell me.

MEGAN
(pulls out piece of paper)
They found an invitation
to the Fetish Ball at the crime scene.
He gave me a photocopy.

CARRIE
Great. That only narrows it down
to about five-hundred perverts.

MEGAN
Pretty fancy stuff, engraved.
On the back is a hand-written
guest list for a wrap party.
It's only five perverts.

CARRIE
Now we're talking turkey.
Who's on the list?
What's the movie?

Meg quickly scans the list.
Gasps silently.

CARRIE
You're scaring me, Meg.

She reads off the paper,
hands trembling.

MEGAN
Klaus Speer, Felina Bella Donna,
Michael Samms, Jorel Amin, and --
special surprise guest --

CARRIE
Gimmee that!

She SNATCHES the paper
Out of Megan's hands, reads it.

CARRIE
NO!

Feeding Time

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Hump Day. 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 9 of LEGS, dominatrix Felina Bella Donna has spirited private eye Carrie Love away to her secret lair, where they make passionate, cruel, kinky love.


INT. FELINA'S KITCHEN - NIGHT
Carrie laps milk from a bowl
on the floor. Looks up, shy.

Felina fastens a collar around her neck,
strokes her hair.

Attaches a studded leather leash.
Stands up. Pulls it taught.

FELINA
That's a good little kittie-cat.

CARRIE
Meow.

FELINA
Do you know what happens to
good little kitties
who finish their milk?

CARRIE
Meow?

FELINA
They get rewarded.
Get their fur stroked.

She jerks the leash,
almost too hard.

FELINA
Here, kittie-kittie --

Carrie gets up. Stands before her.
Inflamed.

Felina reaches out,
gently grasps Carrie’s collar.
Pulls her prize close.

CARRIE
(barely audible)
Mmm-meow.

FELINA
Look what the cat dragged in.
(hands on Carrie’s breasts)
I think it’s feeding time.

And their lips meet.
A soft, electric spark --
which bursts into flame.

The women go at it, roughly.
Needy. Hungry.

Felina backs Carrie up against the fridge, BANG.
Carrie raises her arms, grabs the handles.

Felina reaches under,
goes up Carrie’s skirt, when --
The double-size doors FLY OPEN, WHOOSH --

and FOOD CONTAINERS SPRAY OUT,
CRASHING DOWN.

The women HIT THE FLOOR,
start pawing each other.

Desert nomads who found the oasis.
Drinking. Feeding.

INT. FELINA'S BEDROOM - DAWN
A sultry jazz swoon, like Miles.
Sketches of Spain.

The rising sun casts a glow
in Felina's boudoir.

Lush, very feminine.
And totally trashed.

Pillows, blankets, sheets,
food, wine glasses.
The debris of passion.

The women lie on the floor
next to a broken table lamp,
Felina's face buried in
Carrie's chest, snuggling.

Carrie strokes Felina's hair.
Looks out into space.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Not to get to metaphysical or anything,
but I’ve never gotten the whole Jesus thing.
I mean, he basically committed suicide, right?
So what the fuck does that
have to do with my sins?
Some new age carpenter finds out
his crew is going to off him
because they’re scared of his serenity --
and he just blindly walks into their trap?
Pretty pointless, if you ask me.
Thanks, fella -- have a great afterlife.
Watch out for that second coming.
(beat)
I mean, what the fuck does that have to do
with what gets me wet.
Why I was so easily seduced --
when I’m supposed to be in mourning.

Felina stirs. Looks up at Carrie.

FELINA
(groggy)
Mmmm. Is it morning?

EXT. SANTA MONICA - OCEAN AVENUE - DAY
Ventures-like jangly surf guitar.
Carrie’s vintage Porsche flies through
a tunnel of palm trees.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - CONTINUOUS
The car pulls in front of a posh,
glistening condo high rise.

Carrie pulls out her cell phone.
Punches a number.

CARRIE
The eagle has landed.
You ready to roll?
(listens)
Lock and load me, babe.

The DOORMAN walks over.

DOORMAN
Nice car. That's a -- 356c?

CARRIE
356b.

DOORMAN
What is it, a ‘61?

CARRIE
It’s a ‘62.

Megan appears, cool in black.
She slides into the coupe.

CARRIE
Hello, officer.
You make me feel like
doing something a little illegal.

MEGAN
Careful, detective,
or I'll have to cite you for soliciting.

They kiss. The doorman stares.

MEGAN
(to the doorman)
Hey, Roger. Lovely day, huh?
(to Carrie)
Whattya say we blow this yuppie habitat.

CARRIE
Solid. Let's go catch some bad guys --

You Look Good In Rubber

Happy Tuesday, crime slicksters. I assume you all had a nice holiday weak-end. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 8 of LEGS, private detective Carrie Love and policewoman Megan Paul go undercover at Club Fuck, where Carrie becomes immediately smitten with dominatrix Felina Bella Donna ... while demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer watches ...


INT. CLUB FUCK - CONTINUOUS
Deliciously naughty club music, VERY LOUD.
A seedy, cozy, dark, dank den of depravity.
Monitors and screens show porn loops,
cartoons, psychedelic images.

The dance floor, a joyous,
sweaty mess of beauty, perversity.

Carrie and Megan scope out the scene at the bar.

CARRIE
(to the bartender)
Can I get a Cadillac Margarita?
(to Megan)
Whatcha want, doll? It's on me.

MEGAN
Cheap champagne, please.
I’m feelin’ kinda sleazy
all of a sudden.

CARRIE
That's my little peace officer.
(to the bartender)
And a split of champagne please.

Carrie squeezes Megan's ass,
laughs huskily.

MEGAN
Hey, hands off the merchandise.
Just 'cause we're in Rome doesn't mean --

CARRIE
Come on, babe, go with the flow.
We're undercover.

INT. CLUB FUCK - ANOTHER ROOM - CONTINUOUS
A FAT MAN dressed only in shoes and socks,
a third sock on his organ,
kneels at Felina's feet.

Klaus watches, snickers.

FAT MAN
Please, mistress,
I've been a very, very bad boy.
I need to be punished.

FELINA
You fat, disgusting piece of shit.
I only do men for money.

FAT MAN
Yes, mistress, I'm a fat,
disgusting piece of shit.

FELINA
(to Klaus)
I can't even insult this retard,
it'll turn him on.
(to fat man)
Back to your cesspool, you fat fuck.

She pushes his face with a flourish.
Turns to Klaus.

KLAUS
That was so funny.
What a disgusting little turd.

FELINA
I'm sick of these fucking tourists.
Let's go check out the playroom.

INT. CLUB FUCK - DANCE FLOOR - CONTINUOUS
Carrie and Megan weave their way
through the packed club.

MEGAN
Just remember, this is not a date.

CARRIE
Come on, I just wanted
to get you in the mood.
(soaking it in, delighted)
Follow me.

INT. CLUB FUCK - PLAYROOM - CONTINUOUS
A perverse, trashy siren song
undulates in the dark haze.

Plain brick walls and a
scattering of tables and chairs.

The crowd mingles, sip drinks,
like any cocktail party.

A YOUNG GIRL in panties and bra
stands on a small platform
tied to a cross with
dozens of intricate white cords.

Felina CRACKS a cat o' nine tails
across the girl's pale, bare skin.
She quivers with astonished pleasure.

CARRIE AND MEGAN
watch. Carrie, wistful.
Megan, disbelieving.

MEGAN
Nice crowd. Where's Rocky Horror?
I feel like I'm in a Roger Corman movie.

CARRIE
Hey, art imitates sex.
Welcome to the other side.

FELINA
delicately flogs the girl on the crotch.
The innocent gasps. She leans in,
gently kisses her on the mouth.

MEGAN
I like this part.

CARRIE
(sees something)
Shit, there's my client. Fuck.
(pulls out a pair of masks)
Here, put this on.

They put them on.

MEGAN
I feel like Catwoman.

CARRIE
I feel like getting another drink.
Come on. We'll come back.

MEGAN
Lead the way, mistress.

CARRIE
Don't tempt me.

INT. CLUB FUCK - FRONT BAR - CONTINUOUS
Our detectives sit at the bar with fresh cocktails.
Carrie licks salt off the rim. Takes a long sip.

MEGAN
I gotta say,
you can still put it away.

CARRIE
I'm a private dick --
comes with the territory.

Klaus oozes up alongside Carrie.

KLAUS
Well, what that a coincidence.
I'm a public dick.

CARRIE
(eyes him coolly)
Sorry, this dick is only work-related.
(beat, lights a smoke)
No offense.

KLAUS
No offense taken.
I like your style.
You're sharp, quick.
And you look good in rubber.

CARRIE
I like to think so.
(beat)
I kinda like your friend
back there in the playroom.
Strong. Agile. Commanding.

Felina appears beside Klaus,
leans on his shoulder.

KLAUS
Your ears must be burning,
Mistress Bella Donna.
It seems this masked woman
quite fancies you.

CARRIE
Pleased to meet you,
Mistress Bella Donna.
The name's Cat.

FELINA
Please, call me Felina.

They shake.

FELINA
Such a cute little kittie-cat.

Carrie blushes deeply, cheeks burning.

KLAUS
Perhaps you should take her
back to your place
for a saucer of milk.

FELINA
I just might.

CARRIE
Actually, I'm here to, uh --

Felina licks her finger.
Rubs her nipple through the latex.

FELINA
Don't tell me
you're lactose intolerant --

Take Me To My Double-Banger

Hey there, crime kids. Happy FRIDAY. So we're on the eve of the July 4th weekend. A time when we celebrate the birth of our country. What better way to kick off the celebration than taking another 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 7 of LEGS, dominatrix Felina Bella Donna attends to her 'clients,' but gets interrupted by demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer, who arrives with a most unusual invite. Meanwhile private eye Carrie Love and her ex Megan Paul go 'undercover' at Club Fuck ...


INT. FELINA'S LOFT - DUNGEON - DAY
A state-of-the-art-directed dungeon.
Felina snaps on a rubber glove.

Marches over to KENDRICK (30),
preppy-blonde, tied to the wall, whimpering.
Humiliated, wearing a maid’s uniform.

FELINA
Stop crying, you disgusting
little faggot piece of shit.
(beat)
I'd hate to see you miss that
big board meeting this afternoon.
You don't want the boys at the
Fist National Bank to know
what you do on your lunch hour, do you?

KENDRICK
No, Mistress -- I mean, yes, Mistress.

She CRACKS him in the nuts
with her riding crop.

KENDRICK (CONT'D)
Uh!
(beat)
Thank you, mistress.

FELINA
You should be thrilled.
I've never checked your prostate.

Felina lubricates the glove.
The doorbell rings.

FELINA (CONT'D)
Hold that thought.
I'll be right back.

She marches off, arm aloft
like a doctor going to the OR.

INT. PLAYROOM - DAY
A little girl's playroom.
Lots of lace, ruffles, toys.

Three adult MEN (40’s) sit on the floor
dressed as Catholic school girls,
busily coloring with crayons.

Felina stomps into the room.

FELINA
Have my little girls colored
some pretty pictures for their mistress?

The "girls" run up to her excitedly,
show their drawings.

MALE LITTLE GIRL 1
Look, Mistress -- I did a bunny!

MALE LITTLE GIRL 2
Look at mine, I did a choo-choo train!

MALE LITTLE GIRL 3
Me, me -- look! I did Barney!

FELINA
(examining them)
Very nice. Very nice.
And you stayed within the lines.

Another chime at the door.

FELINA (CONT'D)
Straighten up your room now.
After I finish punishing your daddy,
we'll have milk and cookies.

INT. FOYER - FRONT DOOR - CONTINUOUS
Felina peers through the peep hole.
A wicked grin.

INT. DOORWAY - CONTINUOUS
It's Klaus. He bows, very elegant.

FELINA
Klaus, darling.

KLAUS
Felina. You look delicious as usual.

He takes her gloved hand and kisses it.

KLAUS (CONT'D)
Mmm, Astro-Glide.
(beat)
My favorite.

FELINA
(coquettish)
Oh, Klaus. You embarrass me.

KLAUS
Are you ready for your big screen debut?

FELINA
Darling. Take me to my double-banger.

EXT. CLUB FUCK - NIGHT
A shitty concrete bunker.
The marquee reads "CluB FUcK."

Nasty industrial music bleeds outside from within.
Carrie and Megan stand in line with a motley,
kinky mob of male, female --
and everything in between -- CLUB KIDS.

They barely wear latex dresses,
tons of make-up. They blend.

MEGAN
You're right, I'm nice and warm.
I thought I was gonna freeze my tits off.

CARRIE
That's the nice thing about latex.
Just wait until you’re hot and damp.

Megan looks around, then at the doorway.

MEGAN
Holy shit, that’s Marilyn Manson.

CARRIE
Yeah.
(beat)
Jesus, that's a real catheter.

MARILYN
sees Carrie. Big smile.

MARILYN
Hey, Carrie.

CARRIE
gives a little “pageant wave.”

CARRIE
Marilyn -- hey.

MARILYN
(winks, holds up glass vial)
See you in the playroom.

He goes inside. Megan’s jaw drops.

CARRIE
Don’t ask.

Ziva sits behind the velvet rope,
guarding the portal.

ZIVA
It's ten dollars.

MEGAN
(slips her some cash)
For both of us.

ZIVA
(sees Carrie)
Hey, Legs, how ya doin?
Where's the goddess?

CARRIE
(freezes)
Hey, Ziva -- she, uh -- she --

MEGAN
(grabs arm, pulls her)
C'mon, pussycat. We got work to do.