f1x09 Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
[bottom] TEASER
FADE IN:
1 EXT. SIDE STREET - NIGHT 1
New York.
The real New York; air so polluted eyes water acid, noses run
black and saliva becomes chalk. Organic waves spill through
the streets; parasites and their marks bustling about their
business and no one else's.
What a town.
2 EXT. BACK ALLEY - CONTINUOUS 2
THUNK.
A WOMAN's lifeless head cracks hard against the ground. A
phantom in black momentarily lingers, hovering about the
crude dead form which is oozing crimson from its neck.
A fist drives across his mouth, wiping the nourishment from
his lips. Stepping from darkness, he reveals a slender build
and pasty complexion.
The PASTY VAMP turns to the rear of the alley where another
vamp emerges; some STUPID KID with a hard on for Tim Burton
and Anne Rice novels. He's sucking a WOUND on his hand.
STUPID KID
(spellbound)
Awesome!
Pasty foots the dead woman's BODY.
PASTY VAMP
Yes, quite.
The Stupid Kid inspects his wound before joining Pasty over
the woman's body.
PASTY VAMP (cont'd)
I told you I would make all our
dreams come true.
They embrace. Stupid Kid beams with an idiotic grin.
Pasty is the first to break; distracted by the rear of the
alley. He drifts away from the kid like a bloodhound
following a scent. He seems pleased.
Once again, Stupid Kid starts messing with his hand. Too much
pressure on a sensitive area ignites a shrieking HISS from
his lips. He fans his hand wildly.
Pasty stops, turns; concerned.
STUPID KID
(re: wound)
I went too deep.
PASTY VAMP
It's supposed to be deep!
STUPID KID
(sheepish)
Oh.
(regains composure)
So, now what?
Pasty goes ear to ear with such a wicked look even the Stupid
Kid flinches at it's creepiness.
VOICE (O.S.)
Die?
At the alley entrance stands FAITH, THE VAMPIRE SLAYER.
FAITH
Again, I mean.
The vamps go GAME-FACE.
Faith takes a step.
And then another.
She twirls a stake.
STUPID KID
(to Pasty Vamp; terrified)
A Slayer?
PASTY VAMP
(fronting)
As are we of her kind.
FAITH
Not my kind.
(noticing his attire)
Is that a cape?
Pasty turns a nose up.
STUPID KID
It's... regal.
FAITH
It's stupid.
(then)
Jesus, how old are you guys?
STUPID KID
(bold)
While it may be true that I am but
a mere infant, my lord and master
has lived to see the crucifixion
itself!
FAITH
Right.
(sarcastic)
Never heard that one before.
STUPID KID
You call your betters a liars?
FAITH
Don't know about my "betters", but
I'm definitely calling the two of
you stupid.
(waits for reaction)
And liars.
PASTY VAMP
You know not of who you speak to,
meat!
FAITH
Oh, c'mon. Look at you two. No self
respecting vamp wears a cape. Well,
maybe Dracula from what I hear, but
he's like... uber. You guys are
like the vamps real vamps beat up.
You're... nerds!
(to Pasty)
Really, how old?
STUPID KID
Older than the seas of...
FAITH
(to Stupid Kid)
Shut up.
(to Pasty)
Really.
PASTY VAMP
I don't answer to you.
FAITH
Humor me.
PASTY VAMP
One-thous-
(off her look)
One hundred years old.
Stupid Kid deflates a little.
STUPID KID
One-hundred?
FAITH
Uh-uh. Try again.
PASTY VAMP
Fif-
STUPID KID
Fifty?
Pasty shrugs.
FAITH
Mmm-hmm. Divide by ten sound about
right?
STUPID KID
(turns to Pasty)
Five? I'm freaking seven!
3 TWHIP. 3
FAITH
And dusted.
Ashes fall.
PASTY VAMP
(distraught)
Louis!
Pasty charges, Faith sidesteps while grabbing the back of his
head, pulling him forward as she knees his groin.
He collapses.
FAITH
(sighs)
Noobs...
PASTY VAMP
We had a future!
Faith removes a HATCHET from her leather jacket.
FAITH
Still do.
(off his look)
Who am I to stand in the way of
true love?
The HATCHET hurls. Pasty loses his head.
FAITH (cont'd)
(looks at watch)
Great, now I'm late.
Faith glances down at the body of the dead woman.
FAITH (cont'd)
Guess you already knew that.
Her fingers close the corpse's eyelids.
FAITH (cont'd)
I'm sorry.
Eyes flicker as something registers from the back of the
alley; another body.
Squinting; the image becomes more clear.
She races into the darkness but stops cold. Her knees buckle
and then crash against the pavement.
Two tiny holes blotch the neck of a six year old GIRL. Her
eyes having gone wide and gray, her skin still warm and pink.
Her little lips smeared with blood.
Faith cradles the small lifeless head, tilting it back and
forth; inspecting the punctures.
She takes the child's jaw and slowly opens her mouth.
Gently, she reclines the head back into it's natural resting
position.
Her thumb travels over the child's lips, sweeping the crimson
up leaving only a diluted smear upon the child's chin and
cheek.
Faith's eyes go puffy and red as her face loses color. Her
head jerks to the lifeless innocent before her.
FAITH (cont'd)
It's not her blood...
And off her shocked look, we:
BLACK OUT:
END OF TEASER
ACT ONE
FADE IN:
4 EXT. BACK ALLEY - MOMENTS LATER 4
Faith wobbles back up and onto her feet. She uses a wall to
try and support herself, before crashing back into it.
Her eyes never leave the child.
Her head feels heavy. She tries to support it with her hands.
Her mind is a jumble.
She sobers a bit, or at least appears to. Her eyes spy the
hatchet lying upon a pile of dust.
Faith hobbles out of the darkness over to it.
Picks the hatchet up.
Looks back toward the clump of shadow that is the little
lifeless girl.
Hobbles back over to her.
She stands over the small desolate frame. Her grip tightens
around her weapon.
Eyes the angelic face.
Rubs her eyes red with the sleeve of her jacket.
Zeros on the neck.
Lowers herself back to her knees.
As she raises the hatchet with one hand, the other
affectionately moves a batch of golden hair from the child's
forehead.
She bites her lip.
Holds her pose. Thinks on it. Hard.
The hatchet is lowered to the ground.
Not here. Not now.
We cut away from Faith's dilemma to:
5 INT. ELEVATOR - WEBB RESEARCHING - MOMENTS LATER 5
PRYOR WEBB hums along to some dreadful muzak as one by one
the floor numbers light up, eventually stopping on the
ELEVENTH.
As the doors crack open, Pryor's melodic expression is
suddenly interrupted by an unexpected greeting.
VOICE (O.S.)
(cold)
You... bitch!
Standing in the opening is NOA, covered head to toe in BLUE
SLIME.
She looks as shocked as Pryor as she realises who she's
talking to.
NOA
(quickly)
Oh, God! Sorry, Pryor, I thought
you were Faith!
PRYOR
(eyes her)
Probably a good thing for you I'm
not.
(re: slime)
What is that stuff? What happened?
Noa wipes the slime from her lab coat as Pryor exits the
elevator, moving past her, and we pass on into:
6 INT. WEBB RESEARCHING - HALLWAY. CONTINUOUS. 6
Noa trails behind Pryor.
NOA
Yeah, well, remember that geirswath
you brought in yesterday?
PRYOR
Yes?
NOA
It hatched.
PRYOR
(raises eyebrow)
Hatched?
NOA
Yeah. Hatched. These little slugs,
straight out of 'Night Of The
Creeps,' came pouring out.
Pryor nervously scans the area, keeping a worried, watchful
eye out for the little buggers.
NOA (cont'd)
(off Pryor; sigh)
I took care of it.
PRYOR
How?
Noa lifts up a shoe, covered in blue, with it's heel broken
and hanging on by a thread. The two stop in their tracks.
NOA
(scowling)
I managed to stop them getting out
into the city, but... I ruined my
shoes.
Pryor glances down, noticing she is bare footed.
PRYOR
But all gone now, right?
Noa is dumbfounded by his complete and absolute lack of
sympathy.
PRYOR (cont'd)
(off her look)
I'm very sorry about your shoes.
Noa sighs. Again.
NOA
Yeah, they're all gone.
(beat)
Like my shoes!
They continue walking.
PRYOR
So... you say it "hatched" while it
was on the slab? Interesting. The
reason we use iron is to keep
mystical properties from-
NOA
(cuts him off)
Well, no.
They stop.
PRYOR
What?
NOA
It wasn't on the slab.
PRYOR
Why on earth not?
NOA
Uh, because Faith didn't show up,
and I can't lift that treckler
demon from this morning off it by
myself!
PRYOR
(horrified)
You put an unstable creature in one
of the normal exam rooms?
NOA
(protesting)
It was supposed to be dead! I
didn't really think it would be a
problem!
Noa plops down on a nearby brown mini-sofa and removes her
coat, setting it next to her. Pryor bites his lip as he
watches the sofa turn an icky blue.
NOA (cont'd)
(holds up shoe again)
'Course, it wouldn't have come to
this if Faith had bothered to show
up for work. She could have gone
all super-slayer on their bugly
asses.
Pryor isn't listening to her.
PRYOR
Faith hasn't made it in yet?
(looks at watch)
Well, she's only a little late.
She's probably still a bit drained
from the encounter with the insiro
demon.
NOA
(scowls)
Oh, you mean the same demons I
risked my life to hunt down with
absolutely no compensation in pay?
Yeah, course! How could we forget
about them?
PRYOR
(off her look; quickly)
Which is still late nonetheless.
I'll have a talk with her when she
gets in.
Pryor heads down the hall, toward his office. She calls after
him, their discussion unfinished.
NOA
What about my shoes?
PRYOR
We'll call it even for the
cushions.
NOA
Cushions?
Looks down to the sofa.
NOA (cont'd)
Crap.
Noa watches as Pryor closes his door behind him.
NOA (cont'd)
Do I have to clean this?
Pryor's door closes, and we cut from Noa's sulky expression
over to:
7 INT. QUINN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 7
JON QUINN sits at his desk, computer monitor aglow before
him. He thumbs through a brochure from Webb Researching. He
fixates on a biography of its founder, Pryor Webb.
Quinn taps some keys and a new screen pops up. He types again
but this time only asterisks appear on-screen. A tap of the
'Enter' key and a new window appears. It's empty save for a
lone blinking cursor.
He types two words: "Webb, Pryor". A series of numbers rains
across the screen. Another window pops up, this time with a
picture of Pryor and a long blurb.
Quinn scans through the text but is interrupted by the
unexpected ringing of his phone. He snatches it into his
hand.
QUINN
(on phone)
Yeah?
(pause)
Great, great.
(pause)
Not great? Oh.
(upbeat)
No, that is great, or at least,
better than nothing. Yeah, give it
to me, I'll write it down.
Quinn scribbles on a post-it.
QUINN (cont'd)
I'm gonna follow it up right now.
A boyishly handsome face leans in to Quinn's ear. It is
LEHTO, his recently deceased partner.
LEHTO
Check the serials.
QUINN
What?
(beat; back to phone)
Listen, can I get you to run those
serial numbers for me? Great. How
long?
(beat)
Excellent. No, I'll wait.
Quinn covers the mouthpiece to the receiver; turns to Lehto.
He doesn't seem too fazed to see his ex-partner.
QUINN (cont'd)
I can't believe I didn't think of
that.
LEHTO
You did.
(off his look)
I hate to be the bearer of bad news
Jon, but I'm dead.
QUINN
You know what I mean. Can't believe
I hadn't thought of it before now.
LEHTO
(chuckles)
You're starting to worry me, Jon.
Pretty sure it's a bad sign when
you start talking to yourself.
(beat)
Or people who aren't there.
QUINN
I'm just a little stressed. This is
rough work.
LEHTO
Stress? Get a map and turn to
Egypt. See that big river running
down the middle of it? What's that
called? I think the word you're
looking for is 'denial.'
QUINN
I'm going to just pretend I don't
know what you're talking about.
LEHTO
What you do best. Never listen to
common sense, even when it's your
own.
Quinn goes back to the phone, ignoring Lehto.
LEHTO (cont'd)
C'mon, Jon. You know what kind of a
cop Lehto was. You've read his
file.
Lehto leans in to Quinn's face, but he just turns, facing the
other direction.
LEHTO (cont'd)
Despite outward appearances, the
guy was thorough in his work, and
in every aspect thereof. Think
about it, guy gets a new partner,
he's gonna want to know-
QUINN
(snapping)
Shut up.
(back to phone)
Yeah? You're kidding. They don't
match up? Alright, run a trace and
get me what you can, when you can.
Thanks.
Quinn hangs the phone up.
QUINN (cont'd)
Huh.
Looks back to Lehto.
QUINN (cont'd)
Serials on the hard drives don't
match. However, there was
fragmented data on the hard drives
we pulled from the burnt machines.
Quinn holds the post-it up to his former partner.
QUINN (cont'd)
This address.
LEHTO
Know it?
QUINN
No, but I can find it.
Quinn launches from his seat, grabbing his coat from off the
back of his chair.
LEHTO
Why bother? Someone's obviously
trying to throw you off the trail.
QUINN
Obviously. But it's all I've got.
LEHTO
You know you're walking in to a
setup. You could be in danger.
QUINN
Uh-huh.
LEHTO
So how are you going to play it,
then?
Quinn returns to his desk and removes a handgun from a
drawer, the size of which would make Dirty Harry envious.
QUINN
Loud.
Quinn cracks a grin, and we cut into the noise of:
8 INT. SUBWAY TRAIN - CONTINUOUS 8
The child is nestled over Faith as if she were asleep. The
background behind her blurs as the train travels through the
tunnel.
Faith is oblivious to her surrounding. She just stares at a
clump of dirt on the floor. After a beat, her eyes blur and
cross, sleep catching up with her.
She shakes it off and reaffirms her grip on the child.
As the train rattles onwards, we ut back to:
9 INT. PRYOR'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS 9
Pryor pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyelids
tight. His head is pounding.
He opens a drawer on his desk and removes a small brown
bottle, pouring some pills into his hand.
He swoops them into his mouth and with a hard GULP, they go
down.
A light flashes on his answering machine. He presses the
playback button.
ANSWERING MACHINE
Hello, Mr. Webb. It is unfortunate
that I have missed you. We have a
new specimen for you to examine.
You may collect it from my
apartment within the next twenty
four hours. Thank you, and good
day.
PRYOR
(to machine)
Yes, of course, my pleasure.
(grumbling to himself)
Between having The Circle as a
benefactor and my own personal
Slayer, this place is starting to
get a little overpopulated. We
can't keep our heads above water as
it is!
He reclines back in his chair, letting his head go limp,
falling back where he can stare at the ceiling.
PRYOR (cont'd)
I can't afford another employee
right now.
He exhales and stares at the dots in the ceiling. Takes a
deep breath and snaps back.
Pryor scans his desk looking for something, anything, to
occupy his attention.
Then he sees it from the corner of his eye: a DESK CALENDAR.
A date is circled in RED. He takes the calendar into his
hand, reminiscing as if it were a photo.
PRYOR (cont'd)
(thoughtful)
And another year escapes us
already.
He sets the calendar back upon the desktop and takes his
phone in hand, dialing a number he knows all too well. It
only rings twice.
PRYOR (cont'd)
Hello, yes, this is Pryor Webb, I'd
like to schedule a visit.
We leave Pryor and his call as we cut back into:
10 INT. FAITH'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM. LATER 10
The door latches shut. Footsteps reverberate throughout the
sparsely decorated room.
Faith lays the child on her bed and pulls up a chair next to
her.
GOLIATH emerges out from behind a GUITAR CASE (the words
"R.I.P. OLLIE" scrawled across it) and walks back and forth
between his master's legs, purring. He goes unnoticed.
Faith stares at the little angel settled above her sheets,
her hands go limp in her lap.
A few moments go by and Faith leaves the bedside.
SMASH!
A chair shatters against a wall.
Goliath scampers underneath the bed, fearing for his very
life.
Faith goes berserk.
Knocking over a table, picking it up over her head and
smashing it on the ground, and then into the wall.
Her portable television crashes into an old chest in the
corner of the room. She marches up to it, withdraws a fist
back into the air, finishing it off with a devastating and
quick jab.
She hoists another chair over her head, turning to throw it
aimlessly like the rest when she comes to a cold stop.
GABRIEL stands before her. No playful smirk, no charming
smile.
GABRIEL
Faith.
(then)
Stop.
As their eyes meet, she becomes aware of the moment.
FAITH
It's helping.
GABRIEL
Maybe, but sooner or later you're
gonna run out of furniture to
smash, and I'd really rather not be
here when that happens, and you
start looking for something else to
break.
Faith still has the chair in her hands as she lowers her gaze
to the floor.
GABRIEL (cont'd)
So why don't you put the chair down
so we can talk?
As Faith slowly lowers the chair to the floor, we:
BLACK OUT:
END OF ACT ONE
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Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.