Monday, April 30, 2012
Luck Of The Irish
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 31 of GUN-WILD, we meet Gato Weed, the hitman that Geffin Clinch has hired to take out his bank-robbing daughter Cam, who is right now in hot pursuit. Meanwhile, robbery-homicide detectives Bobby Teen and Taya Ralls are also closing in on her and Rod, as they try to make their way to West Hollywood for one last bank heist ...
INT. CADILLAC SUV - day
A large, hulking MAN sits behind the wheel.
Meet GATO WEED (40), sleazy PI-for-hire.
Right now he’s listening to his police scanner.
He lights up a smoke. Grabs his I-phone.
He wipes the keypad with his fingers.
ON THE SCREEN
We see a GPS display.
Kind of like MapQuest.
A small, blinking red light
slowly moves across the screen.
Fucking app -- amazing shit.
The scanner SQUAWKS to life.
FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
All units, bank robbery suspects
are travelling in a 1979 Volkswagon van,
light blue with white trim.
License number is R as in Robert, 560-5861.
They’re armed and dangerous.
Approach with caution.
Gato picks up his cell.
PUNCHES a number. Listens.
It’s me. Got some news.
They’re travelling east on Wilshire Boulevard,
just passed the 405. I’m on my way.
Hold onto your dick. I got ‘em.
He clicks the phone shut.
Starts the engine. HITS the gas.
Must be nice to have more money than God.
INT. UNMARKED POLICE CAR - MOVING - AT THAT MOMENT
Taya drives. Bobby leans over
a high-tech listening device.
I still can’t believe you put
a listening device in his office.
Hey -- sometimes you gotta
bend the rules a little.
They’re fucking cop killers,
and we’re gonna NAIL their asses.
Turn north on Bundy,
then go east on Wilshire.
Luck of the Irish, doll.
But you’re not Irish.
You haven’t seen me drink whiskey --
INT. CADILLAC SUV - MOVING - AT THAT MOMENT
Gato’s stuck in a traffic bottleneck
just east of the 405.
He POUNDS on the steering wheel.
MOVE, asshole, MOVE.
He pulls out a flask.
Takes a sip. Wipes his mouth.
EXT. WILSHIRE BOULEVARD - CONTINUOUS
Gato’s SUV swerves off into the bus lane,
starts passing cars. A CITY BUS behind him HONKS.
INT. VW VAN - MOVING - AT THAT MOMENT
Some weird oldie plays on the crappy car stereo.
Rod drives, cigarette dangling on his lip.
Cam puts her hand on her neck.
Looks like she’s in pain.
Rod looks at her, concerned.
What’s wrong, love doll?
It’s -- hot.
What? You have a headache?
Cam looks at him.
Tears in her eyes.
No -- my father, he --
He, he --
She rubs her neck.
Tears stream down her cheek.
It’s okay. You can tell me.
He put a, a -- microchip in me.
So he could fucking track where I was.
What THE FUCK?
He MICROCHIPPED you?
Like a fucking DOG?
(rubs her neck)
And when it’s on, it gets hot.
When it’s ON?
You mean -- he’s tracking us RIGHT NOW?
Dear old dad must be back home.
You got another joint?
(pulls one out)
We gotta figure out what to do.
Cam lights it. Takes a big hit.
Holds it in. Passes it to Rod.
EXHALES a cloud of smoke. Eyes burning.
We could -- cut it out.
Are you fucking KIDDING ME?
Well, if we don’t,
Daddy’s goons are gonna get us.
Daddy doesn’t believe in cops.
He’s got his own.
A SIREN WAILS behind them.
(looks in the rearview)
Shit, COPS. Real ones.
Bobby and Taya’s unmarked sedan is in pursuit.
Red dome light on the roof FLASHING.
IN THE SEDAN
Taya glances at Bobby.
They’re not stopping.
Why am I not surprised.
Bobby grabs the mike,
raises it to his lips.
Flips a switch.
IN THE VAN
You in the van,
PULL THE VEHICLE OVER, NOW.
SHIT, what are we gonna DO.
I’ve got an idea. Hold on --wh