Black Hawk Up

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 29 of NOWHERE GIRLS, black ops spook Rock Vargas rescues Homeland Security agents Cherry Nation and April Street from the shopping mall clusterfuck in a helicopter, narrowly missing being captured by the FBI. Meanwhile, FBI director Clint Ruff chews out agent Sunday Sparks for fucking up the mission ...


INT. SHOPPING MALL - BASEMENT - NIGHT
Huge Commando leads a squad of men
up the wall at lightening speed.
Boots CLANK-CLANK-CLANK on the steel rungs.

EXT. SHOPPING MALL - ROOF
April and Cherry watch the chopper fly toward them.
It lands, rotors WHIRRING. They RACE over, get in.

IN THE CHOPPER
April and Cherry slide
onto the seat next to Rock.

ROCK
You really ARE twins --

APRIL
C’mon, let’s go.
We’ll exchange pleasantries later.

CHERRY
(to April)
He’s kinda cute,
in a Eurotrash kinda way.

ROCK
(sees something)
Oh, SHIT --

ON THE ROOF
Commandos start running toward them.
They start FIRING.

IN THE CHOPPER
Rock hands Cherry the Uzi.
Starts flipping switches.

ROCK (CONT’D)
Not bad yourself, hot stuff.
Now SHRED the fuckers.

Cherry takes aim, starts FIRING.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT.

THE COMMANDOS
Get HIT. Two go down.
Three more keep CHARGING.

THE HELICOPTER
Rises up. Bullets PING-PING-PING
off the fuselage.

Rock gets HIT in the stomach. OOF.

ROCK (CONT’D)
OW.

CHERRY
Shit, he’s been HIT.

APRIL
Are you OKAY?

He looks down at the
growing red stain on his shirt.

ROCK
I don’t -- think so.

APRIL
Let me take the controls.

ROCK
You know how to -- uhn --
fly one of these?

APRIL
Yeah. Scoot over.

Rock moves to the side.
pril slides in.
Takes the controls.

CHERRY
Don’t worry.
We’ll take you to a hospital.

ROCK
Shhh. Listen to me.
Honey’s base of operations are -- uh --
underneath Mann’s Chinese Theater -- in Hollywood.
It’s built like Fort Knox, but --

He pulls a key card out of his pocket.
Hands it to April.

ROCK (CONT’D)
You can use --
(gasps)
This to get in.

CHERRY
Do you know where my KIDS are?

ROCK
Yeah, they’re okay -- uh -- they’re --

He slumps over. Lights out.

CHERRY
SHIT.

APRIL
It’s gonna be okay.
We’re gonna GET this Honey Almond,
and THEN we’re gonna get your kids, okay?

CHERRY
Okay --
(looks at Rock)
It’s like I’m fucking cursed.
Meet a cute guy, then he’s dead.

APRIL
Well, we DO have the satisfaction
of serving our country, right?
Isn’t that something?

CHERRY
Yeah, but I’d love to have
something to keep me warm at night
besides the FLAG.

EXT. NEARBY STREET - NIGHT
Irina stands next to her car
by the side of the road.

Raises a BIG, BLACK PISTOL.
Takes aim. SHOOTS into the sky.

EXT. HELICOPTER - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
A small dart WHACKS against
the underside of the carriage.

CLOSE ON --
The dart. A small, silver cylinder
with a red light BLINKING.

IRINA
Looks at a hand-held device
in her palm. Smiles, evil.

IRINA
Reach out and track someone, girlies.

EXT. SHOPPING MALL ENTRANCE - NIGHT
Sunday and Max JUMP into their vehicle.
SLAM the doors.

INT. FBI SUV - CONTINUOUS
Max GUNS the engine.
ROARS out of the parking lot.

SUNDAY
God-fucking-DAMMIT.
(into her cell)
Sir? It’s Sparks.
They’re travelling north in a chopper --

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. LOS ANGELES FBI HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT
The LA branch office. A bee hive of activity.
Dozens of AGENTS man workstations, collect data.
Watch monitors.

Sitting in a corner office
is FBI DIRECTOR CLINT RUFF (60’s).

Tall, wizened, tough as nails.
Right now he’s sipping a cup of coffee,
talking on the phone --

CLINT
How the hell did you
FUCK THIS UP?
You HAD them in the
palm of your fucking HANDS.

SUNDAY
I’m sorry, sir.
We’re going to get them,
don’t worry --

CLINT
DON’T WORRY?
Do you realize I had to
fly out here to BABY-SIT you?
That the White House is
so far up my ass
we’ve chosen a BRIDAL REGISTRY?

He reaches over.
Picks up a bottle of bourbon.

Pours a hit in his mug.
Takes a big gulp.

SUNDAY
I’m sorry, sir.
We almost HAD THEM,
but this black op
commandeered our chopper --

CLINT
I KNOW that, you stupid BITCH.
I’ve seen the FOOTAGE on the SATELLITE.

Pause.

SUNDAY
Oh. Right --

CLINT
Now get your asses
in gear and GET them, GOT IT?

SUNDAY
Got it.
(beat)
Uh -- can we get another chopper?

CLINT
Being refueled.
On it’s way in ten minutes.
(beat)
And if you fuck this up, Sparks,
I’ll have your ASS,
despite the fact that
you’re a fucking DYKE.
Comprende?

SUNDAY
Yes, sir. Consider it done. Goodbye.

INT. FBI SUV - MOVING - NIGHT
She clicks the phone shut.
Sighs. Looks at Max. Eyes teary.

MAX
Hey. Are you okay?

SUNDAY
Yeah, I --
(beat)
Sorry. I -- so unprofessional --

MAX
Look. You’re a fucking AMAZING op.
So am I. And together
we’re gonna get them, OKAY?

SUNDAY
Okay --

MAX
And for what’s worth,
I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole.
My wife left me last month,
and I’ve been kinda fucked up ever since.
(mumbles)
You don’t wanna KNOW
how long it’s been
since I’ve got laid --

SUNDAY
You and me both --

MAX
You’re not such a tough nut after all.

SUNDAY
(smiles)
Tell anyone, and I’ll fucking kill you.