Better Late Than Never

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 3 of EXIT, Angel the bouncer's dealer arrives at the after-hours club right before closing, just as bartender Mia get a call on her cell that her mother's had a stroke and is being rushed to the hospital ... then somebody starts pounding on the door, yelling that it's an emergency, and when Mia goes to open it, two crazed criminals covered in blood rush in and hold everybody hostage at gunpoint ...


INT. THE EXIT ROOM - NIGHT
Angel RACES to the door. Unlocks it.

MICKEY MERTZ (30’s) walks in.
Tall, blonde and rakish
in the lastest hipster threads.

Boyish looks a bit fuzzy
due to hard-partying.

Eyes burning from the combination
of chemicals dancing in his head.

MICKEY
I made it.

ANGEL
Got here just in time.
We’re closing soon.

MICKEY
You know what they say,
‘better late than never.’

ANGEL
(fake smile)
Yeah, right.

MICKEY
So where we gonna do this?

ANGEL
VIP room.

MICKEY
Lead on, Macduff.

They head off toward the back.
The buzzer RINGS again.

MIA
Angel, the door.

ANGEL
(over his shoulder)
Tell ‘em we’re closed.

They disappear.
Mia shakes her head.
Walks over to the door.

MIA
Sorry. We’re closed.

ANGRY GUY (O.C.)
It’s an emergency. Open up.

MIA
We’re closed.

ANGRY GUY (O.C.)
I need help. I’m bleeding.

MIA
Then call nine-one-one.

ANGRY GUY (O.C.)
I don’t have a phone.
PLEASE. I need your HELP.

Mia’s cell phone RINGS.
She looks. Answers it.

MIA
Hey, sis.
What’s up?
Calling kinda late --

Distracted, she opens the door, listening.
We hear WILD CHATTER on her phone.

MIA (CONT'D)
Mom had a STROKE?

Two BIG MEN BURST INTO THE ROOM.

The bigger guy holds a sawed-off shotgun,
the other a chrome handgun
and a giant duffle bag.

Bigger Guy aims the shotgun
at the girls at the bar.

BIGGER GUY
Cell phones, ON THE FLOOR, NOW.

Meet DANNY PEEL (40’s).
Would be a dead ringer for George Clooney,
except you can tell he parties too much.

Arm a bloody mess.
Eyes wild and desperate.
But still kinda hot.

DANNY
CELL PHONES. NOW.

He aims the shotgun at the ceiling.
FIRES. BANG.

Plaster RAINS DOWN.
Mia SCREAMS.

Bettie and Casey TOSS their phones.
Sky and Easy TOSS theirs.
Mia DROPS hers.

ANGEL AND MICK
Appear in the doorway.

ANGEL
Holy shit.

MICKEY
Ohmigod.

Smaller Guy,
bleeding from the leg,
aims his gun at them.

SMALLER GUY
Glad you could join the party.
Toss your phones, NOW.

Meet VIN VARGAS (30’S),
your typical grunt cop gone to seed.

Paunchy.
Dark circles under his eyes.

Sweating like crazy.
Eyes darting back and forth.
Pumped with adrenaline.

ANGEL
Okay, okay. Don’t shoot.

Angel and Mickey TOSS their phones.

DANNY
Okay. Everybody go sit at the bar.
(to Vin)
Smash ‘em.

VIN
You got it.

He drops the bag.
Starts CRUNCHING them with his boot.

Sky, Easy, Angel and Mickey
move to the bar.
Take stools.

DANNY
Okay, everybody.
We’re gonna be here a little while,
so I want you to get nice and comfortable.
Do exactly what I say and nobody gets hurt --