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THE ULTIMATE.Lane.1.4.fdr - George Dykstra movie scripts

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THE ULTIMATE.Lane.1.4.fdr - George Dykstra movie scripts Powered By Docstoc
					THE ULTIMATE
                     by
               George Dykstra




George Dykstra
39 Mercury Avenue
Tiburon, CA. 94920/USA
cell 415.272.6672 - 415.435.3119
email: yesdykstra@comcast.net
                                                          2.



BLACK SCREEN...A quiet moment...


EXT. SMALL OHIO TOWN - DAY

A picturesque, small town street on a summer afternoon.


EXT. APARTMENT WINDOW, ABOVE HARDWARE STORE

A lone man sits in the window.


EXT. SMALL APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM

In an undershirt and desert fatigues, JERRY MANNING, 30,
cleans his M24 rifle.

A hacking cough comes from the bedroom. The voice of
Manning’s sister, Cheryl, comforts their ailing mother.

                       CHERYL (O.C.)
          There, there. Its okay. Try and get some
          rest.

When Cheryl comes in the living room, Manning looks up.

                         MANNING
          How is she?

Cheryl shrugs and holds up a windowed envelope.

                       CHERYL
          Here’s another one.

                       MANNING
          Another? How much?

                         CHERYL
          $17,683,00.

                       MANNING
          Christ, she was only in for six days this
          time.

Cheryl’s eyes well-up with tears. Manning hugs her.

                         MANNING (CONT’D)
          Don’t worry.

                       CHERYL
          Sure, sure, but what are we going to do?
                                                          3.


                       MANNING
          You take care of Mom. Let me do the
          worrying.

                       MOM
          (Coughing) (O.C.)

Manning and Cheryl look toward the bedroom.

                       CHERYL
          Jerry...

                       MANNING
          I called everybody, everybody I‘ve ever
          worked with. Something’ll come through.

Cheryl looks at the three framed photos, on the table,
beside the couch Jerry’s camping out on.

INSERT - THREE FRAMED PHOTOS

1) GI Manning with a chest-full of ribbons.

2) Manning in his high school football uniform with his
arm around his proud mother.

3) Manning, smiling and combat weary, surrounded by
dancing Muslim children.

                       CHERYL
          Oh Jerry, what if something happens to
          you?

                       MANNING
          There you go again.

                       CHERYL
          Why can’t you find something else,
          something here in town?

Looking at a nearby stack of bills, Jerry shakes his
head.

                       MANNING

          Money, sis. Money.

Cheryl looks at the rifle resting across Manning’s legs.

                       CHERYL
          But I’m afraid you’ll get...

Jerry puts his fingers across her lips.
                                                          4.


                       MANNING
          Don’t worry. I’m a pretty lucky guy.

Skittering across the table, Manning’s cell phone
vibrates and RINGS,

Both stare at it. Cheryl is worried that this is the
call. Manning’s worried it might not be.

Manning lets it RING once more before answering.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          ...Manning here...Colonel
          O’Connor...hello Sir. Yes
          Sir...Yes...Yes...Yes Sir!...19:00
          hours?...Yes Sir, Roger that...
          Sir?...Ahhh...

Manning pats his rifle.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          ...no problem...I’m packed and
          already...No, thank you Sir! Ahhh, one
          thing, ahhh...Sir... where exactly is
          that? Uh, huh, un huh... Roger that sir.
          I will look it up. Thank you. Me too Sir.
          Thank you.


EXT. TUNARU ROYAL PALACE - NIGHT - ESTABLISHING

On this forgotten, South Seas island, the King’s gaudy,
gold turreted, flamingo-pink palace overlooks the town.


KING’S THRONE ROOM - NIGHT

Clutching a bottle of Courveiser, fat KING MALUKU lays
drunk, on golden pillows, surrounded by half-naked women.


EXT. SMALL APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM   - DAY

Cheryl looks on as Manning zips his duffle bag and
shoulders his rifle.


KING’S THRONE ROOM - NIGHT

Laughing, the King roughly shoves his harem girls into to
two opposing teams and kicks off a game of beer pong.
                                                          5.


SMALL APARTMENT, MOTHER’S BEDROOM - DAY

Manning kisses his crying mother good-bye.


KING’S THRONE ROOM - NIGHT

Swaying drunkenly, the King and his women, in a game of
Indian poker, press playing cards to their foreheads.


EXT. OHIO TAXI, BACKSEAT WINDOW - EVENING

Nearing the airport, Manning’s face is framed in the
window, as he watches the lush, Ohio cornfields roll by.


INT. KING’S THRONE ROOM - NIGHT

Lights dimmed, a movie, John Wayne’s, The Comancheros,
plays against a blank wall.

Sprawled among his women, with one eye still open, the
King struggles to focus on the swaggering Wayne.


OHIO AIRPORT RUNWAY - NIGHT

Manning and two dozen other combat, outfitted soldiers
trudge across the runaway to board two, isolated 747’s.


KING’S THRONE ROOM - DAWN

Beside the King, a beautiful, long-legged blonde stirs,
waking him. Drunken eyes rolling, his head snaps up.

                       KING MALUKU
          MY MUSIC. PUT ON MY MUSIC.

A cowering lackey scrambles up and jams a cassette into
an ancient boom box. The King’s women help him up.


INT. BELLY OF 747 CARGO PLANE - DAWN

Hip-Hop reverberates through the cargo hold as relaxing
soldiers, in full battle gear, eat, play cards and smoke.

The plane is stacked, deck to bulkhead, with boxes of DVD
players, Cell Phones, TV’s and iPod’s.

Manning sits alone, staring down at the Pacific.
                                                         6.


KING’S THRONE ROOM - DAWN

Lurching to a Motown classic, King Maluku laughs and
randomly gropes his imported, harem girls.


MANNING’S POV - OF TUNARU CITY, FROM THE 747 - MORNING

As the plane banks through the clouds, we glimpse the 280
square-mile island of Tunaru.

The King’s Pink Palace dominates the ramshackle town. Be-
yond, lay scattered, grass-hut villages and dense jungle.


KING’S THRONE ROOM - MORNING

A servant presents a sumptuous breakfast. Displeased, the
careening King sweeps the food across the marble floor.

Suddenly, two 747 jets SCREAM overhead.

                       SERVANT BOY
          Oh, they come...

Waddling to the window, the grinning King stumbles and
falls. The servant boy rushes to help him.

The King cracks the boy with his empty Courveiser bottle.
Everyone laughs. The King roars at the quivering boy.

                       KING MALUKU
          Who is here boy? WHO?

                       SERVANT BOY
                 (mumbling fearfully)
          Your...your planes....

                       KING MALUKU
          WHOSE?

                       SERVANT BOY
          Ahh... ah...your planes most gracious...

                       KING MALUKU
          Go on...go on!

                       SERVANT BOY
          The..the first planes of your majesties’
          Imperial Tunaru Air Transport Service,
          sire.

                       KING MALUKU
          Yes, yes. We greet them. COME.
                                                          7.


Shoving past scurrying servants, Maluku’s drunken, palace
guards, fling open the grand doors for King Maluku.

The King sweeps out, surrounded by his retinue of burly
guards and fawning concubines. The party is on the move.

Waiting by the door, a lean and fit American, RORY O’CON-
NOR, 45, aka COLONEL O'CONNOR, holds up his press pass.

INSERT - PRESS PASS

The press card photo shows O’Connor in a safari jacket
with the word -JOURNALIST- stamped across it.

MALUKU AND O’CONNOR

                       KING MALUKU (CONT'D)
          Ahh, O’Connor, yes! You get lots of good
          picture photos today. I be in big
          newspapers, no, yes?

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Front page your Highness, front page.

Side stepping, O’Connor deftly dodges Maluku’s attempt at
a sloppy, drunken hug.


INT. TUNARU SWEATSHOP - MORNING

Fifty, sad-eyed, emaciated, Tunaru children work in the
stifling heat of the sweatshop’s dreary, half-light.

Hearing the ROAR of approaching car engines, the hunched-
over children’s heads pop up from their sewing machines.

WHAP! Their supervisor cracks a bamboo cane down on his
desk. Instantly, they lower their heads and keep working.


EXT. TUNARU’S MAIN ROAD - MORNING

The King’s three, vintage Rolls Royces blast down the
rutted, debris strewn, main street.

As the cars sweep past the town’s ramshackle sweatshops,
scrawny chickens and bare-ribbed dogs scatter.


INT. TUNARU SWEATSHOP - MORNING

Curious eight year-olds sneak peeks, trying to catch a
glimpse of the gleaming, other-worldly cars.
                                                         8.


Enraged, their “Dicksonian” overseer CLANGS the massive,
iron riveted, front door shut.


EXT.   ROWS OF TUNARU SWEATSHOPS - MORNING

All down the street, other sweatshop doors CLANG shut.


INT. KING’S ROLLS ROYCE - MORNING

Seeing this, the King laughs uproariously and snatches a
liquor bottle from a nearby courtesan.


EXT. TUNARU AIRPORT - MORNING - ESTABLISHING

Tunaru’s “airport” is a sleepy, two-flights week,
airstrip in the mid-Pacific.

TARMAC

Looking out of place, engine’s RUMBLING, two well-
traveled 747’s idle on the overgrown tarmac.

On the tail of each plane is the freshly painted face of
the tiny, island kingdom’s sovereign, H.M. King Maluku.


INT. KING’S ROLLS ROYCE

Seeing the King’s solemn-looking face on the planes, the
King’s harem squeal and point. Maluku puffs up proudly.


TARMAC

In ill-fitting uniforms, a dozen of the King’s hapless
soldiers line a rolled out, threadbare, red carpet.

Behind the soldiers wait the King’s, garishly dressed,
six-man band. Seeing the King, they SQUAWK to life.

Shouldering through the band and rag-tag soldiers, the
King’s surly body guards clear a path for the King.

As he steps out, his soldiers fumble to attention. Ignor-
ing their salutes, Maluku struts past them to the planes.


EXT. 747 #1

The pilot, IVAN, 30’s, leans from the cockpit and gives
the King a snappy salute. The King returns Ivan’s salute.
                                                          9.


IVAN, aka, IVAN THE TERRIBLE, a Russian, was battle-
hardened in Chechnya. His lips smile, but not his eyes.

In the shadows, his copilot, TATS, 28, is a psycho, ex-
Marine. His face is covered with vicious twisting tatoos.


EXT. 747 #2

SCARFACE, 40’s, pilots 747 #2. Leather tough, a jagged
scar runs from his temple, down across his throat.

Scarface is a veteran of Cuban adventures in Africa and
South America. He salutes with a broad, gold-tooth grin.

Beside him, sits his co-pilot, MAMBA (30), from Zaire, a
steel-hardened veteran of Congolese civil wars.


EXT. ARMY BARRACKS

Surrounded by rusting barbed wire, the lop sided, tin-
roofed barracks sit 50 yards from the air field.

Lounging in the grass, looking on, is the reminder of the
King’s motley armed forces - two dozen, bored conscripts.

Some glance up to the roof. There, O’Connor is busy snap-
ping pictures of the King and his “new” transport planes.


EXT. 747 #1

With the boarding stairs hooked in place, an enormous
Samoan, SWAT, 30’s, aka, SWAT TEAM, waves and walks down.

300 lb., Swat is followed by a half-dozen equally jovial,
battle-dressed soldiers.


EXT. 747 #2

Before exiting the plane, Manning looks back to his squad
- checking to see if they’re ready. They nod yes.

Stepping out, Manning first surveys the situation, then
signals his men to follow him.


TARMAC

Swat and Manning’s men are followed closely by the pilots
and copilots of both 747’s.
                                                         10.


Swat extends his hand to the King. Ignoring his hand,
Maluku shoves him aside and heads for the stairs.

Eyes darting, the disembarking soldiers size-up the
King’s pitiful men and struggle to suppress their smiles.

Swat and Manning both spot O’Connor on top of the nearby
barracks. O’Connor gives them the high sign. Its a go.

ARMY BARRACKS’ ROOF

Standing above the barracks entrance, O’Connor unzips his
camera bag, tips it open and sprinkles down dollar bills.

The near-comatose Tunaruian soldiers spring to life, leap-
ing and clawing, they fight for the floating bonanza.


TARMAC

Hearing the ruckus, the King’s body guards and soldiers
look toward the barracks and the dollars drifting down.

Its a stampede. Abandoning the King, they rush off, scale
the fences and scramble to get a share of the loot.

When the King and his two remaining body guards turn back
to the 747’s - everything has changed. He is speechless.

Manning’s and Swat’s men have the drop on them. Their
assault rifles and submachine guns are raised and ready.

To protect himself, the King grabs one guard’s pistol and
shoves the guard in front of him, as a human shield.

Panicked, the other body guard rips his automatic from
his holster and starts firing blindly.

His wild pistol spray misses everything, except for a
single round, which hits Manning. He crumbles.

But even as Manning falls, his companions unleash a
merciless barrage, cutting the guard in half.

The remaining guard, still shielding the King, rips free,
shoots his hands up in the air and surrenders.


ARMY BARRACKS’ ROOF

Calmly dumping another camera bag of money from the roof,
O’Connor signals his men on the tarmac - “Do it”.
                                                         11.


KING MALUKU

Maluku, alone now, a dark, pee stain spreading across the
crotch of his pants, turns and starts to run. Too late.

The attackers BLAST him clean out of his golden sandals.

In a heart beat, Tunaru’s all-powerful King goes from a
man whimpering in fear - to a blood-red, floating mist.

MERCENARIES

Sweeping the tarmac with their ready weapons, the
attackers eye the area for any hint of counter attack.

There is none. The King is dead.


TUNARU SOLDIERS

Stampeding Tunaru soldiers stop in their tracks, drop
their rifles and lock their hands behind their heads.


O’CONNOR AND LANKY TUNARU SOLDIER

AK 47 poised, O’Connor signals for the frighten barracks
soldiers below to stack their weapons.

Head lowered, a LANKY TUNARU SOLIDER lays the wad of
bills he’s tussled for beside his weapon.

                         COLONEL O’CONNOR
          NO. Keep it.

Pocketing the money, the smiling soldier snaps to
attention, salutes, and in fractured English shouts -

                       LANKY YOUNG SOLDIER
          THANK YOU SIR!

BARRACKS SOLDIERS

Wanting to keep their money also, the other ragged
soldiers instantly come to attention and salute.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Good. Now, over there with the others.
          Quick-time, march.

                         BARRACKS SOLDIERS
          Yes, SIR!
                                                         12.


MANNING

Laid out on a stretcher, medics remove Manning’s flak-
jacket and start him on an IV.

MEDIC #1 cleans the bullet wound to Manning’s thigh.

                       MEDIC #1
          Missed the artery, but whew...the son of
          a bitch almost shot your pecker off.

                       MEDIC #2
          Good thing you don’t use it much.

Grimacing through the pain, Manning tries to smile. He
sits up to look at the wound. Medic #1 eases him down.

                       MEDIC #1
          Relax. Save your energy. You’ll need it
          one day to chase your grand-children
          around.

MERCENARIES

Things move fast. Swat already has a crew of surrendered-
soldiers busily off-loading boxes from the planes.

Thirty feet away, Tunaru soldiers stuff the ex-King’s bul-
let riddled body into the Roll’s trunk and SLAM it shut.

Scarface and Mamba stand guard for Ivan and Tats sitting
at a long table surrounded by stacks of cardboard boxes.

                       IVAN
          OKAY, LINE’EM UP.

Waving his rifle, Mamba points for the Tunaru soldiers to
hurry and line up in front of Ivan and Tats.

As the first NERVOUS MAN steps up, Tats signals for his
just-appointed Tunaru helper to slide a box forward.

Its a DVD player. Not knowing what he’s suppose to do,
the Nervous Man freezes. Tats pushes it toward him.

                       TATS
          Take it. Its yours.

The Nervous Man points at himself.

                        TATS (CONT'D)
          Yeah, you. Take it.
                                                      13.


Reaching under the table, Tats fishes out three DVD’s and
fans them out, across the table.

                       TATS (CONT'D)
          So, what'll it be? Star Wars, Gone With
          The Wind or Wizard Of Oz?

What’s happening finally dawns on the Nervous Man. These
amazing things are being offered to him. He beams.

                       NERVOUS MAN
          Ahh...ahh Star Wars...no... no, no. It
          must be Gone With Wind. Gone With Wind,
          or the wife will kill me. Yes, Gone With
          Wind.

When Nervous Man walks away hugging his new treasures and
the next man steps forward - the other soldiers cheer.

As O’Connor marches his own, smiling “prisoners” into the
line, the medics pass with Manning on the stretcher.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          How’re you doing?

                       MANNING
          Jim-dandy, sir.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          You fellows take good care of this man.
          I’ll be by to see you real soon son.

As medics take him away, Manning calls back.

                       MANNING
          It worked sir.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          By God it did.

Walking to the table to talk with Ivan and Tats, O’Connor
looks out across the tarmac, then at his watch.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR (CONT’D)
          Christ, where is he?

There’s a commotion. Rifle ready, O’Connor spins around.

But it’s only eager civilians straining against the
surrounding chain link fences wanting in on the spoils.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR (CONT’D)
          When the DVD stuff runs out, start
          handing out the Wii’s and the iPods.
                                                         14.


Suddenly there’s a new rush on the fences. It’s women,
local townswomen, straining to push fences over.

Seeing its women, O’Connor adds...

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR (CONT'D)
          ... and oh yeah, don’t forget the
          iPhones.

VINTAGE FIRE ENGINE

Siren SCREAMING, Tunaru’s vintage fire engine heads
straight for the locked gate, SMASHING through it.

                         COLONEL O’CONNOR (CONT'D)
          Finally.

The fire engine driver skids to a stop and Tunaru’s 350
pound, Fire Chief, PUKAPUKAN, lumbers down from the cab.

Behind him, soot-covered firemen jump from the truck and
eagerly join the soldiers in the hand-out line.

Running helter-skelter, civilians pour through the
smashed fence, elbowing for a place in line.

O’Connor glares at Fire Chief Pukapukan.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR (CONT'D)
          Damn it, you’re twenty minutes late. What
          happened?

                       PUKAPUKAN
          Ahhh, there was a fire.

                         COLONEL O’CONNOR
          So?

                       PUKAPUKAN
          I am a fireman.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Not for long. Mamba start that sorry-ass
          band into playing something - NOW.

                         MAMBA
          You got it.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          We’ll do it up there, on top of the fire
          truck.

O’Connor looks around.
                                                         15.


                       COLONEL O’CONNOR (CONT’D)
          Is your cousin here for the ceremony?

                       PUKAPUKAN
          Which one, the priest or the judge?
          They’re both here - in the line - there.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Great, both then.

O’Connor signals for them to be brought forward.

Waving, the JUDGE, in a worn sportcoat and a robed PRIEST
are led from the line and directed atop the fire engine.

At Mamba’s prodding the reluctant band breaks into their
cacophonic version of, “Rockin’ Robin”. They’re awful.

O’Connor shoots Mamba a look. Mamba shrugs.

MANNING AND MEDICS

Having commandeered one of the former King’s abandoned
Rolls, the medics maneuver Manning into the back seat.

Looking around, Manning’s in awe of the plush interior.

                       MANNING
          Never had anything like this last time I
          got zapped.

Medic #2 pours a shot of whiskey from the King’s crystal
decanter and hands it to Manning.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          Will this help?

                       MEDIC #2
          Couldn’t hurt.

With that, Medic #2 pours one for himself and Medic #1.

                       MANNING
          Ahhh, sorry. I’m bleeding all over the
          leather.

                       MEDIC #1
          Not to worry. the insurance oughta’ cover
          it.

                         MEDIC #2
          To the King!
                                                         16.


            MEDIC #1                         MANNING
The King.                       King.

They CLINK and throw back their shots.

FIRE ENGINE’S ROOF

O’Connor finishes arranging the “dignitaries” on the fire
engine’s roof and thrusts some papers at Pukapukan.

                          COLONEL O’CONNOR
             These, sign these first.

Pukapukan goes to sign, but the papers are upside down.
O’Connor rights them and Pukapukan signs.

Pushing Pukapukan toward the microphone, O’Connor steps
away and signals for Pukapukan to begin.

Hands trembling, Pukapukan clutches the microphone as his
two beaming cousins, the Judge and the Priest look on.

As the sound system SQUAWKS to life, all eyes turn to
Pukapukan.

                          PUKAPUKAN
             Maluku is gone. He is dead.


INT. SWEATSHOP

Hearing this over loud speakers the children gasp.


FIRE ENGINE ROOF

Getting into it, Pukapukan starts to enjoy himself.

                          PUKAPUKAN
             The old, evil ways, they no more. We got
             us new day in Tunaru. I’m declare a week
             long holiday. Ahh, with the pay. The full
             pay. Starting now!

SOLDIERS AND CIVILIANS

Soldiers and civilians cheer.


EXT. ROLLS

Driving through town, Manning’s face is framed in the
rear window, as he looks back.
                                                         17.


MANNING’S POV

Hundreds of joyous children burst from the sweatshops and
stream past the Rolls leaping and dancing.


TARMAC

Unsure of what all this means, two soldiers near the fire
truck look at each other. A soldier turns to his friend.

                          QUESTIONING SOLIDER
             Can the Fire Chief do this?

Hearing this, the Judge adjusts his judicial wig, takes
the Priest’s bible and lays Pukapukan’s hand over it.

                          JUDGE
             By the power is vested in me by the
             sovereign Kingdom of Tunaru, Pukapukan is
             the King!

The Priest then lowers Pukapukan to his knees, sprinkles
Holy water on him, blesses him and looks up to heaven.

He cups his hand around his ear to better hear God.

                          PRIEST
             Yes, yes. Yes Lord. Thy will be done!

Joyously, he throws his arms in the air.

                          PRIEST (CONT'D)
             GOD AGREES! IT IS PUKAPUKAN! Pukapukan is
             the new King of Tunaru. Thank you Lord
             God. HALLELUJAH!

O’Connor exchanges knowing glances with his lieutenants.


EXT. ROLLS

Manning’s face in the Roll’s rear window, as he looks
back.

MANNING’S POV

He watches the happy chaos on the tarmac -

The two looming 747’s. The new Fire Chief/King being
sworn in. The tables lined with electronic wonders.

Civilians, soldiers and harem girls jostling for other-
worldly treasures. Happy children racing onto the tarmac.
                                                      18.


All this hullabaloo, under the vigilant gaze of Colonel
O’Connor and his steely eyed mercenaries.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


PALACE THRONE ROOM - NIGHT

Newly bribed soldiers and body guards celebrate the coup
with former King Maluku’s harem girls.

Tats and King Pukapukan are seen through the glass of the
palace radio studio, adjacent to the throne room.

PALACE RADIO STUDIO

Seated beside Pukapukan, Tats reads a prepared statement.

                       TATS
          ...at precisely 8:13 this morning
          patriotic freedom fighters toppled the
          dictatorship of Tunaru’s corrupt King
          Maluku...

Cheers erupt from the throne room party. Cupping his
hands over the mic, Tats signals for them to pipe down.


PALACE THRONE ROOM

Ivan reinforces Tat’s call for quiet, then motions with
his AK 47 for a waiter to pour everyone more champagne.


PALACE RADIO STUDIO

                       TATS
          ...there was little blood shed. Two died,
          including King Maluku. And one freedom
          fighter was injured...


EXT. NATIVE VILLAGE - NIGHT - ESTABLISHING

An idyllic native village - a bare bulb, street light, a
dozen, tin-roofed huts, cooking fires and wandering dogs.

                       TATS (V.O.)
          ...to the delight of the people of the
          tiny island of Tunaru, the first cousin
          of the deposed Maluku, Oscar Pukapukan,
          has assumed the kingship...
                                                         19.


INT. NATIVE HUT (ASHAL'S FAMILY HOME)

A family (ASHAL’S) sits on their bare floor listening to
the broadcast. Hearing the news, they leap up cheering.

                       TATS (V.O.)
          ...Pukapukan has promised the people of
          Tunaru an end to the terrible oppression
          of the Maluku regime...


EXT. NATIVE VILLAGE

Spilling from their huts, villagers embrace and dance in
the dusty road.


KING’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

O’Connor is on the phone to his boss, PORFIRIO
ROMANOVICH, 60’s.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Yeah, everything’s in order. The intel
          was right on. No, no reprisals, nothing.
          Hell, they love us.

Sounds of the celebration party filter in.


INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - MORNING

On opposite sides of the earth, there is a twelve hour
time difference between Tunaru and Romanovich’s HQ.

Romanovich is an imposing figure with a booming voice and
leonine mane of silver hair.

In an enormous, richly appointed room, Romanovich lis-
tens, pacing before a 30’ window, overlooking the city.

Behind him in the board room, are the shadowy outlines of
a dozen or so men, Romanovich’s colleagues.

                       ROMANOVICH
          Good Colonel. Very good. Yes, yes that’s
          underway. No problem on that. And I was
          just talking with my, ahh, State
          Department friend. It’ll take a a few
          days, but they’ll recognize the new
          Tunaru government...
                                                      20.


KING’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Mamba bursts in. O’Connor quickly muffles the cell phone
against his chest and tries to hush Mamba, explaining...

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          It’s the boss...

Undeterred, Mamba points excitedly to the floor.

                       MAMBA
          Downstairs, downstairs...

Ignoring Mamba, O’Connor continues with Romanovich.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          The army? Ah, they’re happy getting rid
          of Maluku. And they’re real happy having
          their pay doubled... Sixty-three
          dollars... No, that’s not a day. This is
          Tunaru. That’s sixty-three dollars a
          month. Yeah, I think you can afford it.
          Hey, I could afford it.

Mamba waves for O’Connor’s attention. O’Connor covers the
phone.

                         COLONEL O’CONNOR (CONT'D)
          What?

                       MAMBA
          You asked me tell you - if we find it. We
          find it. Yes, hell, we find it!

O’Connor returns Mamba’s smile and finishes with
Romanovich.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Ahhh, gotta’ run Mr. Romanovich. A little
          something’s come up. No...no. No prob-
          lems. Everything’s on schedule...Yes sir,
          I’ll look for the equipment you’re
          sending... tomorrow, yes, bright and
          early. Workers are coming. It’ll be up in
          no time. Roger that, over and out...


PALACE HALLWAY - NIGHT

As O’Connor follows Mamba past the Throne Room, revelers
try to drag them into King Pukapukan’s party.

O’Connor pulls away from them, but before leaving he
looks to Ivan. Ivan nods, he’s got things under control.
                                                        21.


PALACE CELLAR

Guarding a ransacked storage room, AK 47 in hand,
Scarface smiles and points for O’Connor to look inside.

There, O’Connor sees it, the scorched, blown off door of
the ancient, hobnail safe, holding the royal treasury.

O’Connor rummages through coins and jewels, then hefts
one of a dozen gold bars and turns to Mamba and Scarface.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Good work boys. Remember, the deal’s like
          we agreed. Half for us - half to keep the
          good folks of Tunaru happy and smiling
          for now, alright?

                       SCARFACE
          I’m think, half too much for them.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Half - and that still leaves each of us
          sitting pretty - real pretty.

                       SCARFACE
          Okay then - I’m like sitting pretty.

O’Connor sifts through the treasure.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          We’ll keep some of the boys around for a
          while - supervise the building. The rest
          can head on home.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. TUNARU DOCKS - MORNING

Tunaru’s tiny port is a whirlwind of activity. Steel “I”
beams are being off loaded from two, island freighters.

With armed Tunaruian soldiers at their side, Swat and
Tats supervise.


PALACE BALCONY - MORNING

To get some air, while he’s recuperating, Manning’s bed
has been pushed from his opulent room onto the balcony.

Manning’s having trouble keeping his eyes off his nurse,
a beautiful, lithe, native girl, ASHAL, 20.
                                                       22.


O’Connor breezes onto the balcony, trailed by a hungover
King Pukapukan, wearing former King Maluku’s silk robe.

Seeing the looks shooting between Manning and Ashal,
O’Connor sizes up the sexual electricity in the air.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Ahhh...looks like you’re getting along
          pretty well son.

Blushing, Ashal looks away and busies herself.

                       MANNING
          You know, I don’t like to complain sir.

O’Connor smiles.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Of course not.

Lifting his binoculars, O’Connor looks out to the harbor.
Pleased with what he sees, he hands them to Manning.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR (CONT’D)
          Thought you might like to see how things
          are going.

Adjusting the focus, Manning looks.


MANNING’S POV - THROUGH THE BINOCULARS

The bustling Tunaru docks.

                       MANNING (V.O.)
          Whew...pretty impressive sir.


PALACE BALCONY

Behind them, the King Pukapukan leans forward straining
to see what they’re seeing.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Oh, sorry there King.

O’Connor hands the binoculars to the King. Looking
through the binoculars, King Pukapukan is amazed.

                       PUKAPUKAN
          It’s...it’s here already. And so much.
          The people... what should I tell the
          people?
                                                        23.




                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          The truth, I suppose. Tell’em it’s their
          new, international TV station. 400
          channels. They’ll like that.

                       PUKAPUKAN
          Four...four hundred?

PUKAPUKAN’S POV - TUNARUIAN SOLDIERS GUARDING THE DOCKS


PALACE BALCONY

Seeing armed Tunaruian soldiers, Pukapukan is frightened
for his safety, his eyes dart to O’Connor.

                       PUKAPUKAN
          The soldiers, they have - they have their
          guns!

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          No worries Highness, we’ve got their
          bullets - just in case.

                       PUKAPUKAN
          Yes, yes good.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          And besides, you don’t have many
          revolution problems when you’ve got four
          hundred channels.

Relieved, Pukapukan sighs. Suddenly, two, half-clad,
harem girls burst in, excited they’ve found the King.

Rubbing against him, they pull him into the hall.

O’Connor winks.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR (CONT'D)
          Good to be king, huh?

Blushing and nodding “yes”, Pukapukan lets himself be
lead away by the giggling girls.

O'Connor looks back to the sparks still crackling between
Manning and Ashal. Wiping his forehead, he mumbles -

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR (CONT’D)
          Must be the climate...
                                                        24.


SERIES OF SHOTS - RAPID DEVELOPMENT AROUND TUNARU


SMALL HILL - DAY

A legion of excavators ready the ground for construction.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


TARMAC - DAY

Rebuilding Tunaru’s vintage, WWII airfield, dozens of
graders and bulldozers crisscross the tarmac.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


ROWS OF TUNARU SWEATSHOPS - NIGHT

Tunaru is changing. There’s building everywhere. Even at
night, carpenters, electricians and painters work away.

Up and down the street, upscale, name-brand, designer
stores are going in, replacing the ramshackle sweatshops.

The same, sweatshop-childworkers, now sport designer
jeans and laughingly go from one new store to the next.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. SMALL HILL - DAY

Pile drivers now slam huge steel pilings into the ground.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


LARGE FIELD NEAR THE PALACE - DAY

Workers are erecting an enormous, bowl-shaped structure.
The construction pace is frantic.



END SERIES OF SHOTS - RAPID DEVELOPMENT AROUND TUNARU

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. TUNARU AIRPORT - MORNING - ESTABLISHING
                                                         25.


TARMAC

Colorful, local dignitaries line the sleek, newly
completed runway.

The King cuts a ribbon. This is the signal - a massive
787’s wheels touchdown and land. Champagne corks POP.

The King and his entourage congratulate each other.


787 JET WALK-DOWN RAMP

Trailed by his coterie, a smiling Romanovich exits the
plane and waves to the welcoming Tunaru dignitaries.

                                                    FADE TO:


INT. KING’S ROLLS ROYCE

O’Connor sits in the jump seat facing King Pukapukan and
Romanovich as they jostle along Tunaru’s leafy main road.

Passing the large field near the palace, O’Connor points.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          There - what do you think?


LARGE FIELD NEAR THE PALACE - DAY

A nearly completed, ultra modern, indoor, stadium now
stands on the recently, vacant, large field.

Jabbing his cigar at it, Romanovich asks the King -

                          ROMANOVICH
          How many?

Not understanding that Romanovich means the stadium’s
capacity, the confused King shakes his head.

                          COLONEL O’CONNOR
          22,800.

                       ROMANOVICH
          22 huh? Well, it’s not Ohio State.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          That’s 22 with plans to expand.

Troubled, the King whispers to O’Connor.
                                                         26.


                       PUKAPUKAN
          Colonel, Tunaru has but 10,000 people.
          Maybe 8.

                       ROMANOVICH
          Like they say, “If you build it” ...They
          will come.

O’Connor and Funderbunk laugh at this reference.

                          PUKAPUKAN
          Who?

                       ROMANOVICH
          Sports fans my friend, sports fans.
          Enthusiasts. We’re building a better
          mouse trap. Eh, O’Connor?

O’Connor nods yes. The King looks back at the stadium.

                       PUKAPUKAN
          Mouse trap? What, what mouse trap?

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. SMALL HILL - NIGHT

Brilliantly illuminated, on the once barren, small hill,
now stands an enormous satellite dish.

Beside it is a sleek, new, five-story broadcast center.
Ivan and Swat guard the guards - who guard the entrance.

The King’s Rolls pulls to a stop. O’Connor, Romanovich,
and The King O’Connor step out.

Hundreds of exuberant, well-dressed Tunaruians, burst
into cheers.

Romanovich looks up at the huge satellite dish, nods his
approval to O’Connor and shouts in Pukapukan’s hear.

                       ROMANOVICH
          THEY LIKE YA’ KING.

                       PUKAPUKAN
          NOT SO MUCH ME. I THINK IT’S THE STUFF.

                       ROMANOVICH
          SAME, SAME. EVERYBODY LIKES STUFF.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:
                                                         27.


INT. BROADCAST CENTER - NIGHT

O’Connor leads Romanovich and the King into the spark-
ling new, state-of-the-art, TV, broadcast studio.

Dozens of non-Tunaruian technicians clad in white jump-
suits snap to attention. Romanovich looks them over.

                       ROMANOVICH
          They’re good?

                         COLONEL O’CONNOR
          None better.

                       ROMANOVICH
          Can you hook us up to home base?

O’Connor signals the waiting technicians to connect them.

Romanovich and the King watch the massive, 30 foot, TV,
wall screen glow to life.


ON THE 30 FOOT SCREEN - MORNING

We see the silhouettes of Romanovich’s colleagues, a
dozen men, the money men, in their elegant board room.

In shadow, the men are seated around a massive conference
table. These are same men seen behind Romanovich before.


INT. BROADCAST CENTER - NIGHT

Squinting, Romanovich whispers to O’Connor.

                       ROMANOVICH
          What’s wrong? I can barely make them out.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          That’s how we set it up. Anyway, you know
          who they are.

O’Connor indicates the technicians in the room,
whispering -

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR (CONT'D)
          They don’t need to know.

Romanovich nods. Then turning, arms outspread, he
addresses the shadowy figures on the giant screen.
                                                         28.


                       ROMANOVICH
          Gentlemen, greetings from Tunaru. With me
          here is our King, ahh...ahh... King
          Pukapukan.


ON THE 30 FOOT SCREEN

                       TEXAN
          Howdy-do King.

                       PUKAPUKAN
          Ah, hello sir.

                       TEXAN
          Now don’t that beat all - never been
          called “sir” by a king. Maybe I just got
          me knighted.

                       PUKAPUKAN
          Ahh, so sorry, sir.

                          TEXAN
          Well King,    over here, we been watching
          the little    travelogue some of O’Connor’s
          folks been    showing us. Got yourself a
          right nice    little spot there. I was just
          saying...

                       ASIAN
          Must interrupt. May we continue with
          business...?

                       GERMAN
          Ja, ja agreed. I don’t have time for your
          chits-chat. My people is waiting. Is
          everything on time. All is prepared?

                       BRIT
          Indeed, I say, have the future combatants
          signed the waivers, full waivers?

Romanovich looks to O’Connor and gets a “yes” nod that
everything's been signed. Romanovich smiles.

                       ROMANOVICH
          Signed, sealed and delivered for
          Saturday, eleven o’clock Eastern, ten
          Central. Guess in London you’ll have to
          TiVo that, eh, Cecil (the Brit)?

                       MOBSTER
          So, you do got boys ready to go?
                                                        29.


                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Ready.

                       ROMANOVICH
          We’re making history gentlemen, history.

                       BOSTONIAN
          History’s all very good, I’d prefer to
          make...

                       MOBSTER
          Some money...yeah, let’s make some money.

                       ROMANOVICH
          Oh, we will. We will.

As The King looks on, excited chatter breaks out between
the men on the 30 foot screen, Romanovich and O’Connor.

                                                DISSOLVE TO:


INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - MORNING

Having finished their morning rehabilitation walk
together, Ashal helps Manning into bed.

She arranges the covers and kisses his forehead. He pulls
her down on top of him and kisses her passionately.

Blushing, Ashal hops up, straightens her uniform and
looks around, concerned they might be seen.

                       ASHAL
          We shouldn’t.

                       MANNING
          Told you I was feeling better. Come here.

Ashal hesitates. Manning reaches, but she sidesteps.

                       ASHAL
          I’m sorry, but I have others, other
          patients.

                       MANNING
          Maybe this afternoon?

Ashal starts to agree, but stops.

                       ASHAL
          Oh, but I can’t.
                                                         30.


                       MANNING
          You can’t?

                       ASHAL
          I must return home.

                       MANNING
          Why, is someone sick?

                       ASHAL
          Oh no, it is the Festival of Lights. A
          time to be with loved ones.

                       MANNING
          Loved ones, huh? Then you’re taking me
          with you.

                       ASHAL
          It’s a two hour bus ride.

                       MANNING
          You’d better hurry up then and get to
          those other patients and let me get
          dressed. Go on now...shoo, shoo...

Instantly, Manning is up, out of bed and rummaging for
his clothes. Leaving, Ashal looks back and smiles.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. SPORTS ARENA - MORNING

To accommodate the broadest, worldwide, evening coverage,
Tunaru’s live events are always scheduled in the morning.

With the stadium gates about to open, anxious Tunaruians
jostle each other to get up to the ticket windows.


EXT. TICKET BOOTHS

A cadre of Tunaruian ticket sellers in garish, quasi-
military uniforms staff a dozen, new ticket booths.


INT. HEAD TICKET TAKERS BOOTH

There’s a twist. Along with a ticket, the sellers give
each eager Tunaruian a crisp, new, hundred dollar bill.
                                                         31.


EXT. STADIUM ENTRANCE - MORNING

Tunaruians enter happily pocketing their new hundred.
O’Connor looks at the seeming endless line of Tunaruians.

O’CONNOR AND ROMANOVICH

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Talk about guaranteeing a solid gate.

                       ROMANOVICH
          Ahh, “pretium sors est sors” (the price
          of fortune is fortune.

                          COLONEL O’CONNOR
          What?

                       ROMANOVICH
          The price of fortune is fortune. It takes
          money to make money.

                          COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Oh, yeah.

                       ROMANOVICH
          We won’t be doing this long. Cameras,
          press - you’ve got to have enthusiastic
          bodies in the seats. Security’s under
          control?

Scanning the stadium entrances, O’Connor spots three of
his men, Ivan, Tats and Mamba.

Each of the three is in command of five, now sharply
uniformed, smiling, Tunaruian soldiers.

                       COLONEL O’CONNOR
          Under control? Are you kidding? These are
          happy people.

Spotting a few Tunaruians cheerfully waving their hundred
dollar bills, Romanovich rushes over to them.

Fearful, the island-savvy Tunaruians think he’s going to
take the money away, Instead, he announces to all -

                       ROMANOVICH
          No, no my friends. The money is yours,
          but let’s let keep this our little
          secret.

As Romanovich returns to O’Connor, relieved Tunaruians
quickly tuck their money away,
                                                        32.


                        ROMANOVICH (CONT’D)
          Can’t give the press anything we don’t
          want them having, can we?

Even before Romanovich finishes, O’Connor hurries away to
his men to head off any further problems, calling back -

                          COLONEL O’CONNOR
          I’m on it.


STADIUM VIP DRIVE-UP LANE

Four, spanking-new, Mercedes tour buses drop off hundreds
of excited, newly arrived, Western fans.


INT. HEAD TICKET TAKERS BOOTH

Ducking his head inside the booth, Romanovich points to
the approaching Westerners.

                        ROMANOVICH
          Hurry’em through. Express line’em. And
          for Christ sake, remind your people not
          to give them a hundred dollars.


INT. STADIUM MEDIA ROOM

The sleek media room is filling up with press and media
people all pigging out at the gourmet, buffet table.


INT. BROADCAST BOOTH

The broadcast booth overlooks an oval boxing ring. As
fans stream in below, there’s electricity in the air.

Eating and balancing overloaded plates of food, two, hand-
some TV COMMENTATORS enter the booth.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1
          ...What about you?

                       TV COMMENTATOR #2
          Ahh, it was either here or covering
          another bull riding championship in
          Argentina.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1
          Well, this is something new anyway.
                                                         33.


                         TV COMMENTATOR #2
            I suppose. My God! Have you tried these
            jumbo prawns? Hmmmm...


ROAD DOG’S DRESSING ROOM

Slick with sweat, a muscular, mulleted, red-headed, young
man, BRIAN “ROAD DOG” RODGERS, 22, waits.

Gathered around him, the young man’s five handlers
massage him and whisper encouragement. Swat looks in.

                         SWAT
            It’s time. You’re on kid.

For a moment, Rodgers stares blankly at Swat.

Then, jumping up, he pushes his handlers away, whirls his
arms, punches out wildly, bursts out the door shouting -

                         BRIAN “ROAD DOG” RODGERS
            TONIGHT! TONIGHT IS MINE! MINE!


TUNNEL BELOW STADIUM

Ringed by his entourage, “Road Dog” begins making his way
along the underground tunnel up to the arena floor.

The noise of the crowd and the relentless rumble of rap
music BOOMS ever louder.

As they pass an open dressing room, a half-dozen menacing
Latino men look up.

One, a lean, Latino, CHAVO “THE COBRA” CASTILLO, 23,
prays before a makeshift, candlelit, Black Madonna alter.

The eyes of the two young men, Castillo and Rodgers,
lock. Suddenly, the two lunge at each other.

In a heart beat, 300 lb. Swat slams in between the two
men, holding them and their volatile, handlers apart.

                         SWAT
            No, no. You’ll have time enough up top.


OVAL RING

Pre-fight ceremonies are ending. Ex-champions wave and
exit the ring. King Pukapukan is helped into the ring.
                                                         34.


Pukapukan, wearing a gaudy, recently acquired crown, is
flanked by his two cousins, the Judge and the Priest.

Hailing their King, the Tunaruians jump to their feet.
Seeing this, the Westerners respectfully rise as well.

Clutching the hanging microphone, a faded, Hollywood, B-
actor, recruited as emcee, gives the King a sweeping bow.

                       EMCEE
          YOUR MAJESTY!

The Tunaruian’s cheer. The nervous, ex-fire chief, now
King, unfolds a wrinkled piece of paper.

Reading it first in it in Tunaruian, he then translates
it into English.

                       PUKAPUKAN
          Tunaru peno-meli-ecki-bo-bo. (Tunaru says
          hello to all) Tunaru welcomes the world.

The Tunaruian’s go wild. Westerners applaud thunderously.
Over head, in the dome’s rafters, fireworks explode.

                       PUKAPUKAN (CONT'D)
          Tonight, our first two men will compete
          for -

The King’s cousin, the Judge, snaps open an ancient,
leather brief case stuffed with wrapped money packets.

Scarface and a dozen additional security men eye the
crowd as the Steadicam operator shoots the money.

                       PUKAPUKAN (CONT'D)
          Seventy-five thousand dollars!

The excited crowd roars. With that, the King returns the
mic to the emcee and leaves the ring with his cousins.

                       EMCEE
          And now...

Entrance music BLARES and heads snap around, as cameramen
wheel to catch the combatants entering the stadium floor.

The opposing camps push to the ring amidst looks of awe
and pats on the back. Entering the ring, a roar goes up.

                       EMCEE (CONT'D)
          Ladies and gentlemen you’ve heard the
          all disclaimers. Now - its time to fight!
                                                         35.


In the center of the oval ring, Road Dog and The Cobra
face each other chin to chin.

                       EMCEE (CONT'D)
          Gentlemen you are here voluntarily? Of
          your own free will?

Translating for him, the Cobra’s manager whispers in his
ear.

                       THE COBRA
          Is good. Okay, yes.

                       ROAD DOG
          Yeah, I’m volunteering - volunteering to
          get rich.

                       EMCEE
          Gentlemen, it’s the moment of truth. El
          momento de la verdad (the moment of
          truth). In this ring - there are no
          corners to hide in. The referee for
          tonight’s battle -

The Emcee looks around dramatically, then looks back to
the two, jaw-clenching young men.

                       EMCEE (CONT'D)
          Well, there is no referee -

The crowd erupts with an ear-splitting roar.

                       EMCEE (CONT'D)
          - because the only rule is - to survive.
          When the bell rings - you fight. When it
          rings again - only one of you will walk
          away. To your corners. Exsisto fortis
          meus frater! - Be brave my brothers. Be
          brave!

Looking back at each other, over their shoulders, the two
young men walk to their corners.


SERIES OF SHOTS - MOMENTS BEFORE THE FIGHT

A) “ROAD DOG’S” WIFE

                       ROAD DOG’S WIFE
                 (mouthing the words)
          Good luck Baby...

B) “THE COBRA’S” WIFE
                                                        36.


                       THE COBRA’S WIFE
          Dios protege usted, mi amor. (God protect
          you my love.)

C) GORGEOUS RINGSIDE GIRLS

Ringside, a row of strategically placed starlets, giggle
and poke each other, as they eye the handsome fighters.

D) WESTERN, BLOOD-SPORT FANS

In Hawaiian shirts and Ultimate Fighting T-shirts, a
block of rabid fans wait on the edge of their seats.


E) KING PUKAPUKAN AND BEAUTIFUL GIRLS

In the velvet-roped, royal box, the King sits with his
cousins surrounded by fawning, long-legged Western babes.

F) SPELLBOUND TUNARUIANS

Overwhelmed, awe-struck Tunaruians try to take in the new
world unfolding before them.

G) WESTERN GANGSTERS

With their girlfriends, a rough-looking knot of Sporano-
style characters survey the crowd and await the battle.

H) JAPANESE GANGSTERS (YAKUZA)

Impeccably dressed, mean-faced men evaluate the fighters
and discreetly slide bets to one another.


I) BROADCAST BOOTH

Commentator #1 and #2 look down. Covering their mics,
they whisper to each other anxiously.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1
          You think - they’re really going to do
          it?

                       TV COMMENTATOR #2
          Yeah, I think they are...


J) EXT. ROOF TOP, TUNARU SATELLITE BROADCAST DISH

The dish rotates directing it’s worldwide signal.

K) INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - NIGHT
                                                        37.


The same shadow figures seen before, Romanovich’s col-
leagues, the money men, are as excited as the arena fans.

Smoking and drinking, they watch on their massive, 30
foot screen.


L) EXT. TUNARU, A ROW OF BROADCAST TRAILERS - MORNING


M) INT. BROADCAST TRAILER   - MORNING

Walking through, Romanovich and O’Connor study the rows
of monitors,as the technical director orders shots.

                         TECHNICAL DIRECTOR
            Number 3 tight on the bell. Ready - NOW!

N) A TV MONITOR SHOWING THE OVAL RING BELL

The time-keeper strikes the bell. The fight begins.

O) TV MONITORS SHOWING VARIOUS ANGLE OF THE TWO FIGHTERS
AS THEY LEAPING TO THEIR FEET.

                         TECHNICAL DIRECTOR (V.O.)
                         (CONT’D)
            5, tighter on the fighters. Good. Good.
            Ready - take 5. Ready now 2, ready. Take
            2...


END SERIES OF SHOTS - MOMENTS BEFORE THE FIGHT


OVAL RING

Spittle flying from his mouth, The Cobra runs, like a
madman, straight for Road Dog.

Road Dog braces, as if to tackle him, but instead drops
low, sending the The Cobra flying over his shoulder.

Flipping in the air, The Cobra lands with a bone-
crushing thud. Instantly, Road Dog jumps on his head.

The Cobra’s nose cracks. Blood shoots out.

Not letting up, Road Dog leaps in the air landing on The
Cobra’s face. The crowd is delirious with the carnage.

Dazed, The Cobra rolls away, snags Road Dog’s leg, and
with all his might bits deep and rips away flesh.
                                                         38.


Jumping up and strutting, The Cobra spits out a bloody,
biscuit-sized chunk of Road’s Dog’s calf.

Caught up in the gore, the crowd howls its approval.

Clearing his vision, The Cobra swipes away the blood
covering his face. Shaky, Road Dog limps to his feet.

Both wary, looking for openings, the two men feint and
circle. The crowd screams for action.

                       THE CROWD
          BOO. BOO.....EARN THE MONEY..... FIGHT,
          YOU BUMS..... TEAR HIS FACE OFF.....
          KIll’EM.....EAT HIS LIVER. EAT IT!

Road Dog hears this last insane comment and for the
briefest instant, looks to see who made it.

A fatal mistake.

In the instant he looks away, The Cobra strikes. Head
lowered, he pile drives into Road Dog’s mid-section.

All the air is knocked out of Road Dog. Crumpling,
gasping for a breath, he claws the canvass desperately.

The tables have turned. The Cobra sees Road Dog, inching
across the canvass, crawling to pull up on the ropes.

The Cobra doesn’t hesitate. Smashing down his heel, he
crushes Road Dog’s fingers, flattening him.

The Cobra now slams down full force on Road Dog’s elbow.
It SNAPS with a ghastly POP and flops over backwards.

                        ROAD DOG
          AAAAHHHHHH!

Electrified, the crowd howls for more.

                       THE CROWD
          KILL.....KILL.....KILL.....KILL.....

Sitting astride his writhing victim, The Cobra cups his
hand to his ear, pretending he can’t hear the crowd.

The crowd shrieks even more rabidly.

                       THE CROWD (CONT'D)
          KILL.....! KILL.....! KILL.....!
          KILL.....!.....
                                                         39.


Eyes wide with terror, Road Dog twists back, looks up at
his tormentor and pleads, screaming -

                         ROAD DOG
            OH PLEASE...FOR GOD SAKE...DON’T...
            PLEASE.

Grabbing Road Dog’s mane of red hair, The Cobra yanks his
head back until Road Dog’s Adam's apple bulges obscenely.


RINGSIDE SEATS, ROAD DOG’S WIFE

Hysterical, Road Dog’s wife rushes the ring to save her
husband. Two burly security guards wrestle her back.


OVAL RING

Broken, Road Dog looks up, powerless to help her. The
Cobra surveys the crowd, then looks to his own wife.


RINGSIDE SEATS, THE COBRA’S WIFE

Nearly imperceptibly, she nods, yes. The crowd erupts.

                         THE CROWD
            DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!


OVAL RING

                         THE COBRA
                   (howling)
            III-EEEEEEE!

With a flourish, The Cobra jerks Road Dog’s head back -
SNAPPING his neck.

For an instant, there’s stunned silence. Then, the
crowd’s explosive roar of the of approval.

                         THE CROWD
            YEAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Solemn looking doctors, wearing calf-length, white lab
coats rush in and examine the body.

The brisk exit choreography which follows is masterful.
The doctors confer and nod, “yes”, Road Dog is dead.

A doctor pushes a hand-held, remote switch. A trap door
slides open, revealing a concealed elevator platform.
                                                         40.


Road Dog’s draped body is slid on the exposed lift. Then
it, and the doctors, sink and disappear into the floor.

The emcee hands The Cobra his prize money. Armed sec-
urity guards immediately escort it - and him - from ring.

It’s all so fluid and rapid, you could imagine nothing
happened at all. Only the emcee remains on the stage.

For a moment, the emcee lowers his perfectly coffied head
in pseudo reverence, then, teeth sparkling asks...

                          EMCEE
             Well world, are you liking this?

                            THE CROWD
             YEEEESSSSSS!

                          EMCEE
             Good, good, because you ain’t seen
             nothing yet! The next TTD, that’s your,
             “To The Death” fight is even richer...

Suddenly “sexy-girl” music REVERBERATES throughout the
stadium, as a beautiful girl enters the ring.

The stunning, long-legged, auburn-haired girl unsnaps a
sleek, aluminum attache case and flashes the prize money.

                          EMCEE (CONT'D)
             One-hundred and five thousand dollars!

                          EMCEE (CONT'D)
             And yes, here they are now!


SPECTATORS

Twisting in their seats, people strain to see who and
what’s coming next.


TUNNEL BELOW ARENA

From the tunnel’s shadows, emerge the next two fighters -
two, hot, scantily clad, female fighters.

The crowd’s thunderous approval rattles the building.

                          THE CROWD (O.S.)
             YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
                                                         41.


                       EMCEE (O.S.)
          OH YEAAAHHHH...

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


INT. TUNARU BUS - AFTERNOON

Manning and Ashal sit squeezed together beside a hefty
woman balancing two, angry chickens on her lap.

As the lush paradise of Tunaru bounces by outside, goats,
pigs and small children scamper up and down the aisle.

Frantic mother’s abruptly grab for their children.
Knowing what’s coming, people brace.

Suddenly, the bus dips into a murderous pothole. Bounced
from their seats, heads BANG into the metal roof.

With debris and bodies still flying helter-skelter around
the bus, a cheer erupts, as passengers call out-

                       BUS PASSENGERS
          IBLIS! IBLIS KOLAM RENANG! (DEVIL!
          DEVIL’S POOL!)

A moment later everyone is laughing. Trying to
understand, Manning turns to Ashal.

                       MANNING
          What is iblis?

                       ASHAL
          Oh, “Devil”. They call that one, “Devil’s
          swimming hole.” On this road, it is a
          most famous, ah, ah, pothole.

Faces turn to Manning, gauging how the Westerner is
taking it. Manning doesn’t disappoint them and shouts -

                       MANNING
          IBLIS! IBLIS!

The exuberant Tunaruians cheer and break into a song.
Hugging Ashal, Manning joins in and tries to sing along.

Looking from Ashal to the joyful faces around him,
Manning knows this a moment he won’t forget.

As the bus jounces and rattles along, Manning and Ashal
become lost in each others eyes.
                                                        42.


With the blur of green countryside sweeping past them,
Manning gently takes Ashal’s small hand, in both of his.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. EAST LOS ANGELES, SOUTH PECAN ST. - DAY

It’s an impromptu, low-rider parade. Music BLARING, horns
HONKING kids and dogs run alongside the tricked-out cars.

Its The Cobra’s homecoming. He’s a hero.

The Cobra, his wife and children wave triumphantly from
the back of a gold-chromed, candycane-red Cadillac.


EXT. THE COBRA’S HOME - DAY

An car abandoned engine, a rusting frig and toys litter
the front of The Cobra’s dilapidated, ‘30’s-era bungalow.

As the Cobra and his family walk the over-grown path to
their house, excited neighbors rush up to touch them.

                       MIDDLE-AGED NEIGHBOR LADY
          I... we saw you. You was on cable. You
          looked so good.

                       LATINO TEENAGE BOY
          You “Ramboed” that fucker, man. How I get
          me some of that easy money?

                                                   FADE TO:


SERIES OF SHOTS - LONG LINES OF TTD COMBAT HOPEFULS -
FROM AROUND THE WORLD.

The lines of hopefuls are 90% athletic, young men.

A) EXT. INDIA - ORNATE MOVIE THEATER - EVENING -
ESTABLISHING (STOCK)

B) EXT. BANNERS OVER MOVIE THEATER MARQUEE - EVENING

Banners read: TTD-To The Death!: For the Brave = Fame and
Fortune: Only One Walks Away, and: Guts, Gold, Glory!


C) EXT. INDIAN MOVIE CROWD - EVENING (STOCK)

Harried police battle to manage the volatile, mile-long
line snaking up to the resplendent, local movie theater.
                                                        43.


D) EXT. WEST AFRICA SOCCER STADIUM - MORNING (STOCK)

At dawn, two hundred, bare-foot hopefuls rush in as
policemen swing open the massive, stadium doors.

E) EXT. MALAYSIA, KUALA LUMPUR CONVENTION CENTRE -
AFTERNOON (STOCK)

In the shadow of the Petronas Towers, a dozen unruly
lines converge on Kuala Lumpur’s Convention Centre.

F) EXT. NEW YORK, MADISON SQUARE GARDEN - AFTERNOON
(STOCK)

A mounted police squad struggles to maintain order, among
the anxious thousands, frantic to be interviewed inside.

F) EXT. BRAZIL, RIO DE JANEIRO’S, CHRIST THE REDEEMER
STATUE - EVENING - ESTABLISHING (STOCK)

G) EXT. JUBILANT BRAZILIAN MEN - EVENING (STOCK)

A festive half-mile line of singing, dancing and drinking
men, jostle each other to get inside Rio’s Sambadrome.


H) EXT. EIFFEL TOWER - AFTERNOON - ESTABLISHING (STOCK)

I) EXT. PARIS, HILTON PARIS HOTEL - AFTERNOON (STOCK)

With the Eiffel Tower in the background, smartly dressed
Europeans snake along the Avenue and up the Hilton steps.


END SERIES OF SHOTS - LONG LINES OF TTD COMBAT HOPEFULS -
FROM AROUND THE WORLD.

                                              DISSOLVE TO:


INT. BUSTLING UNITED NATIONS CORRIDOR - AFTERNOON -
ESTABLISHING (STOCK)


INT. UN DIPLOMATS AND NEWS CREW - AFTERNOON

Waving bloody TTD photo enlargements, colorfully dressed
UN diplomats rail against TTD television.

INSERT - GRAPHIC TTD PHOTO ENLARGEMENTS

                                              DISSOLVE TO:
                                                         44.


INT. DOOR PLAQUE READING, CBN TELEVISION SENIOR
PROGRAMING CO-ORDINATOR - NIGHT


CBN TELEVISION, SENIOR PROGRAMMING CO-ORDINATOR’S OFFICE -
NIGHT

Engulfed in reports and intricate programming charts, a
harried programming executive shouts into the phone.

                       PROGRAMMING EXECUTIVE
          How? How could I see it coming?...No! No
          we can’t shut’em down. We’ve a network -
          not an army. We can’t close down a
          country... You’re sorry to hear it? Well,
          hey, I’m sorry to say it!

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. BUSY STEPS OF CONGRESS - AFTERNOON - ESTABLISHING
(STOCK)


EXT. CONGRESSIONAL STEPS, IMPROMPTU PRESS CONFERENCE -
AFTERNOON

The Texan is now seen for who he is - a U.S. Senator.
Reporters thrust microphones into his face. He’s calm.

                       NETWORK REPORTER
          Senator, Senator can you tell us how you
          view this?

                       TEXAN
          Well, it’s a damned outrage. And y’all
          mark my words good. By God, we will get
          to the bottom of this profanation!

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. BERLIN, GERMAN PARLIAMENT BUILDING - MORNING -
ESTABLISHING (STOCK)


EXT. GERMAN PARLIAMENT STEPS - MORNING

The German, a member of the Bundestag, the German
parliament, is similarly deluged with reporters.

Accosted outside Berlin’s Reichstag Building, The German
is the Texas politician's “indignant” counter-part.
                                                        45.


           GERMAN                   TV TRANSLATOR (V.O.)
Die deutschen Leute werden      The German people will not
diese Schande nicht dulden!     tolerate this disgrace!
(The German people will not
tolerate this disgrace!)

                                               DISSOLVE TO:




INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON

As the sun sets, outside their majestic, glassed-enclosed
suite, the money men stare up at their giant TV screen.

30 FOOT TV SCREEN - MORNING

On the screen, Romanovich speaks to them from Tunaru.

                       ROMANOVICH
          Gentlemen, we’ve made it. The world is
          talking.


ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON

                         MOBSTER
          And paying.

                         BRIT
          Here...here!

                       BOSTONIAN
          We have lit the flame.

                       TEXAN
          ...And now we gotta’ crank up the heat.


EXT. BEACH, NEAR ASHAL’S FAMILY HOME - EVENING

As moonlight ripples over the lagoon, overhead, an end-
less splash of a stars twinkle above the vast Pacific.

Up and down, the limitless, beach, hundreds of luminarias
flicker and glow. This is Tunaru’s Festival of Lights.

Ashal’s family is here - parents, grandparents, sisters,
brothers, aunts and uncles and cousins.

Guests of honor, Ashal and Manning, sit closest to fire,
their faces glowing, as they finish their roast pig.
                                                         46.


As naked toddlers scurry by, Manning takes a long drink
of palm wine and passes the fruit jar to Ashal.

Ashal’s cousins, strumming their ukuleles and guitars,
nod to each other and launch into a song.

Soon, the sounds of their heart-melting, island tune
mingles with the rhythm of the lapping tide.

Feeling the magic, Manning looks from the starry night
above to it’s twinkle in Ashal’s eyes.

Smiling, he takes her hand, stands, and leads her off,
down the beach.

Over her aunt’s clucks and giggles, the musicians crank
up an impromptu version of, “I Want to Hold Your Hand”.

MANNING AND ASHAL

Alone, with the bonfire’s light fading in the distance,
Manning and Ashal sit, curling their toes in the sand.

For a long moment, they stare up, lost in the silvery
glow of the enormous Pacific moon.

Mustering his courage, Manning takes Ashal’s left hand
and extends her ring finger. Eyes widening, she gasps.

Fumbling in his pocket, he confuses her by taking out a
ballpoint pen. As he steadies her hand, his tremble.

Slowly, he inks an engagement ring around her wedding
finger, topping it off by drawing an enormous diamond.

With the gentle lilt of guitars drifting across the sand
on evening the breeze, he looks into her eyes and asks -

                       MANNING
          Will you?

Ashal bobs her head, yes. Kissing, they slowly sink from
sight, down onto the sand.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. TUNARU - NIGHT (ESTABLISHING)

Tunaru has changed. In the distance, all around the
stadium, luxury hotels have gone up.
                                                         47.


INT. KING’S THRONE ROOM - NIGHT

At first glance, it looks it looks as if assassinated
King Maluku is once again lounging in his throne room.

But it’s Pukapukan, clutching a bottle of Courveiser, on
golden pillows, drunk, surrounded by half-naked women.

The King is playing the just released, Tunaru Monopoly
game, complete with houses, apartments and hotels.

Across from him, now with women of their own, sit his
companions, Ivan, Tats, Scarface, Mamba and Swat.

With one of his girls steadying him, Pukapukan rolls the
dice. The girl moves his top hat piece nine spaces.

                       TATS
          I own it.

Mamba points at the King and tells Tats -

                       MAMBA
          He don’t got no more money.

                       TATS
          Then he’ll have to sign over another
          apartment building. King...

Grumbling, Pukapukan scribbles his signature on a Royal
Deed for a real apartment and tosses it across the board.

                       TATS (CONT’D)
          I like this game.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON

Sitting around their conference table, the money men
study a scale model labeled, PACIFIC COLISEUM.

On the TV screen, Romanovich’s enormous face asks the
question -

                       ROMANOVICH
          We’re in agreement gentlemen?

The money men look at each other, break into grins and to
a man nod, yes. Cigars are puffed. Cognac is raised.

From his end, in Tunaru, Romanovich raises his snifter,
joins in and toasts with his colleagues.
                                                         48.


                       ROMANOVICH (CONT’D)
          Well then, my friends, to bread and
          circuses!

                        MONEY MEN
          HERE, HERE!

                                                DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. TUNARU SIDE STREET - EVENING

Its a romantic, Asian side street - tiny, colorful shops,
boys playing soccer, workingmen at tables drinking beer.

Taking it all in, Manning, still with a slight limp,
walks hand-in-hand with his fiancee, Ashal.

Sharp sounds from an open door draw their attention.
Investigating, they look in on a martial arts studio.

MARTIAL ARTS STUDIO

Under the scrutiny of their teacher, a half-dozen ardent,
young, Tunaruian men kick and punch through their drills.

Their teacher, the MARTIAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR focuses on one
especially well-muscled, athletic, young fighter, HIKILI.

                       MARITAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR
          No, no. Your hand must be closed - then
          sweep with elbow...

Shaking his head, Manning whispers to Ashal...

                       MANNING
          No, he’s got that all wrong.

The keenly alert instructor sees the couple in the back,
but chooses to ignore them.

The instructor again demonstrates the move and his young
student awkwardly tries to imitate his master’s actions.

Still in the doorway, Manning shows Ashal how the move
should be done, telling her a bit too loudly...

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          See, it doesn’t work, if you drop the
          shoulder.

The instructor stops. The room is silent. All eyes turn
on the intruders in the doorway, Manning and Ashal.
                                                        49.


                       MARITAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR
          You, I take it, know better?

                       MANNING
          I was just saying...

Sweeping his arms welcomingly, the instructor offers for
Manning to come up and demonstrate.

                       MARITAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR
          Please...

                       MANNING
          No,no, you go right ahead. I was only...

                       MARITAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR
          Is our foreign friend a fighter or a
          talker.

The martial arts students stifle snickers. His buttons
pushed, with a slight limp, Manning strides to the front.

Manning bows respectfully, first to the Instructor, and
then to the Instructor’s prize student, Hikili.

                       MANNING
          Its simple, but first, and this is
          important, its circle, step, stick. And
          the finishing blow is not here, but here.
          And its explosive. If you do it right,
          he’s not getting up.

The student looks to his Instructor. The Instructor nods
and points for him and another student to try it.

They do and it works. The prized student stands victori-
ous above his opponent. Even the Instructor is impressed.

                       MARITAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR
          You are a sensei, my brother?

                       MANNING
          Special Forces trainer. Awhile back. No
          more.

                       MARITAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR
          This boy prepares for the stadium. It
          would honor him and our academy if you
          would come by and offer him your guidance
          and wisdom.

Seeing the admiration shining in the eyes of the
Instructor’s students, Manning momentarily hesitates.
                                                   50.


                         MANNING
          Nah.

                         MARITAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR
          Why?

                       MANNING
          I think I’m retired...but thanks.

As he and Ashal leave, the students all bow and
immediately begin practicing Manning’s new move.

Ashal is reluctant to speak, but quietly asks...

                       ASHAL
          You are a good fighter?

                         MANNING
          Was.

                         ASHAL
          Still?

                       MANNING
          I trained. Fought. I suppose it never
          leaves you.

                       ASHAL
          The boy is training for the stadium.

                       MANNING
          Yeah, I heard.

                       ASHAL
          What will happen to him?

                       MANNING
          If he fights like that - nothing good.

For a few moments they walk on in silence.

                       ASHAL
          You won’t ever do that - go into that
          stadium ring?

                         MANNING
          Me? No.

                         ASHAL
          You promise.

                       MANNING
          I’m stupid, not dumb.
                                                        51.


Wanting more, Ashal turns to him.

                          ASHAL
          Never?

                          MANNING
          Never.

                          ASHAL
          You promise?

Manning crosses his heart.

                          MANNING
          I promise.

They kiss and walk on. Manning’s limp is gone.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. STADIUM, VIP DRIVE-UP LANE - MORNING

Limo after limo lets out glittering jet-setters. It’s
like a Hollywood premier. TTD has been discovered.


TICKET BOOTHS

The cadre of Tunaruian ticket sellers is transformed too.
Now, they’re all wearing elegantly tailored tuxedoes.


INT. STRING OF SKY BOX, BROADCAST BOOTHS

In the two dozen, broadcast, sky booths, above the
stadium floor, it’s a mad house.

Behind the glassed-in booths, jostle media of all shades
and nationalities.


INT. STADIUM SPECTATORS

Rich, excited Westerns and clusters of wealthy Asians
settle into choice stadium seats.

The smattering of elite, native Tunaruians are now
relegated up top, to the nose-bleed sections.

MANNING AND ASHAL

With Ashal, his Tunaruian girlfriend, on his arm, Manning
hikes up top to sit among the Tunaruians.
                                                        52.


Seeing Manning, their countries’ hero, the Tunaruians
embarrass them both with handshakes, hugs and kisses.


INT. BROADCAST BOOTH

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1
            We’re back. And welcome those of you just
            joining us...

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2
            ...you are in luck. We have it all for
            you tonight.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1
            Oh boy...do we ever. A jammed packed
            card...

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2
            Let’s get you right back to the ring...


OVAL RING

As fight fans filter in, two steroid-pumped, midget,
muscle-men grapple to the death in one of many prelims.

                         ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
            And not a moment too soon.

The BLOND MIDGET squeezes his scissored legs around the
throat of the South-Asian, INDIAN MIDGET, strangling him.

Pounding the canvass, the Indian thrashes wildly to
escape. His thermometer-red face looks ready to explode.

As he looks up to the Blond midget, blood erupts from his
ear. The Blond Midget tightens and finishes him off.

Doctors rush in to verify the death. Covering the Ind-
ians’s body, they quickly lowered him through the floor.

Eager to get their post-fight interviews, ringside
reporters swarm the exhausted Blond Midget.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
            Oh, will you look at that?

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
            That’s “Little Viking”, the victor, Noel
            Andersen, - in what? - six minutes and
            nine seconds. Over, ah, what’s his name,
            help me out...
                                                        53.


                         TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
            Says here...Rajeesh, The Swami, Sharma.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
            He was a tough, tough, little, 105 pound
            competitor.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
            ...Yep, but Raj came up short...

Announcer #2 moans at Announcer #1’s “short” pun.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
            Ohhhh...you didn’t!

As two, new fighters climb in the ring, passed the exit-
ing Blond Midget, an buzz ripples through the crowd.


INT. BROADCAST BOOTH

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2
            Sorry. Oh, you ready for this one?

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1
            Am I ready? Does a one-legged duck swim
            in circles? You better believe I’m ready.
            It’s one of the night’s main events.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2
            Oh yeah, so grab those chips and slap
            some mustard on that hot dog, ‘cause this
            one promises to be a doozy.


OVAL RING

Both fighters are in the ring. One, a black man, THE
CHAMP, is a massive, Mike Tyson-like, bull of a man.

Striding the ring’s perimeter, he trades handshakes and
heckles with volatile ringside fans.

His Asian opponent, wearing the robes of a Shaolin monk,
sits silently in his corner, cross-legged, in mediation.


STRING OF SKY BOX, BROADCAST BOOTHS

Settled in, rows of international announcers yammer and
flail describing the coming melee below.
                                                         54.


BROADCAST BOOTH

                          TV COMMENTATOR #2
             Well, there he is - the Champ, well, ex-
             champ. Damien, Lighting Bolt, Johnston.
             Champions sure hate to walk away from it,
             don’t they?

                          TV COMMENTATOR #1
             Oh yeah. He’s out of boxing, for what,
             five years? Still though, he looks pretty
             good.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #2
             And he’s trained for this fight like no
             other.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #1
             You can believe that, they all do.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #2
             I hear you
             .

                          TV COMMENTATOR #1
             Hey, that’s why, worldwide, we have a
             billion viewers.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #2
             Like the ads say, “This ain’t no cartoon.
             This is the real deal.” It’s a stone-cold
             fact - we human begins like combat.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #1
             Always have - always will. And we have
             it, here, right now! The ex-heavy weight
             champion of the world against a 14th
             degree black-belt and Supreme Grandmaster
             - Shaolin monk - SHI YONG CHE.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #2
             14 huh? Brother, that’s a lot of belts.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #1
             The Champ was asked, if he was worried.

VIDEO CLIP


INT. BOXING GYM - AFTERNOON (TWO DAYS EARLIER)

A knot of reporters interview The Champ at his training
camp.
                                                      55.


                       THE CHAMP
          Naw, I ain’t worried ‘bout no chop-suey.
          This here is just another payday.


INT. OVAL RING - MORNING

Prancing and bare-knuckled, the Champ throws a flurry of
lighting quick punches. The ring announcer signals.

Che sheds his robe. At center ring, The Champ reaches to
shake, but Che only bows. The Champ shakes his head.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
          Well, East didn’t quite meet West on that
          exchange.

The ring announcer climbs out of the ring. The bell
CLANGS. Fists flying, The Champ rushes Che.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
          Will you look at that?

Che sidesteps The Champ, twirls, and drills his heel deep
into The Champ’s kidney. The Champ falters, but stays up.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
          HIS KIDNEY. HE’S HURT!

Grimacing, but determined, The Champ storms back.

Che suddenly leaps three-feet straight up, does a 360 and
rakes his nails across The Champ’s eyes, blinding him.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
          WHAT WAS THAT?

                       TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
          Wow, a classic... “Feather-tip of the
          Crane”!

Covering his bleeding eyes, the Champ staggers back, as
Che methodically stalks him, ready to strike again.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
          Oh my, this isn’t good.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
          Yeah, looks like this is it for Johnston.

With bloody hands, the blinded Champ paws the air feeling
for his opponent. Closing in, Che dips low.
                                                         56.


Sensing him, The Champ cocks to smash Che with his ham-
sized fist, swinging high, he only grazes Che’s head.

Che strikes with whirlwind, non-stop blows. The ring mic
picks up the CRACK of The Champ’s bones.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
                 (Gasping, feeling the pain)
          Ahhhh... Ohhhh...!

The Champ topples to his knees. Then, mercifully, Che
delivers the coup de grace.

In one, swift, balletic motion, Che’s rigid, right arm
sweeps across The Champ’s throat - severing his head.

With a THUMP, the head hits and bounces. Glassy eyed and
mouth agape, it rolls across the canvass and falls off.

With his neck gushing angry spurts of blood, the Champ’s
headless body teeters for a moment and tumbles forward.

STADIUM SPECTATORS

Legs flailing, ringside spectators crash over backwards
in their chairs, dodging erratic spritzes of gore.

Other fans, momentarily stunned, suddenly erupt from
their shock and burst into frenzied, blood-fueled howls.

                         THE CROWD
          (Howling)

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
          Holy shit...

Face turned away, a horrified ring official picks up the
Champ’s served head and drops it into a bag.


                       TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
          I think now would be a good time to go to
          commercial.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
          Ye...Yesss...

MANNING AND ASHAL

Fascinated, Manning, the veteran warrior, sits on the
edge of his seat soaking everything in .

For Ashal, its too far much. Head lowered, she covers her
eyes.
                                                         57.


INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON

Watching on their giant screen TV, the money men share
the stadium fan’s primal excitement.

                       BRIT
          Good Lord!

                       ASIAN
          That lee-al-lit-te TV! (That’s reality
          TV!)

                       BOSTONIAN
          No, you can’t script that.

                       TEXAN
          Well , I’ll be...! Christ-on-crakcer, I
          didn’t know those King Fu monkeys could
          do that.

The shrill screams of the delirious stadium crowd bounces
off the walls and reverberates through board room.

                       MOBSTER
          Will ya’ listen to them jamokes? They
          love it!

                       GERMAN
          Ja, ja, but was over too quickly. Longer
          the people must see the pain. So, slower
          is better, I think. Slower, ja, ja
          slower...

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. NEW YORK NEWSSTAND - DAY

Several national news magazines feature pictures of
Manning, “The Hero of the South Pacific”.

Beside them, a dozen magazines sport idealized pictures
of Shaolin monk, Shi Yong Che.

A newsie waves one to sell.

It’s TTD’s official magazine. On it, Che stands solemn-
ly, arms folded, in front of a new, Rolls Royce Phantom.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:
                                                         58.


INT. MARTIAL ARTS STUDIO - NIGHT

With the pleased Instructor looking on, Manning, shirt
off, spars, throwing one student after another.

Catching his breath and smiling, Manning, clearly in his
element, revels in the student’s esteem.

Looking at the wall clock, he suddenly realizes he’s
late. Saying good bye, he grabs his shirt and dashes out.


INT. INTIMATE ROMANTIC RESTAURANT - NIGHT

Manning hurries in. Ashal’s been waiting for him. None-
too-happy, she’s half-way through her dinner.

Sitting, Manning takes both her hands in his.

                       MANNING
          I’m really sorry. I was helping, ah,
          friend. And you know, just lost track of
          the time.

He takes a fork and holds it over her pasta.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          Any good? Can I try some. I’m starving.

Softening, Ashal nods yes. As he wolves down pasta, she
studies his bruised face skeptically.

                                                DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. A PLEASANT, SUBURBAN, AMERICAN HOUSE - NIGHT
(ESTABLISHING)


INT. SUBURBAN GARAGE - NIGHT

It’s a less-than lethal, teenage version of Tunaru’s full-
fledged TTD. A hand-lettered banner reads: FIGHT NIGHT.

Kids names and graffiti are scrawled across the banner.

Three dozen, excited, teenage boys and a smattering of
dolled-up, teenage girls are jammed into the garage.

Joints are fired up. 40 ouncer's are tipped. The electric
garage door slowly closes. It’s fight time.

The ring is “roped-off” with yellow, police barrier tape.
Everyone’s talking. The EMCEE speaks through a bullhorn.
                                                         59.


                       TEENAGE EMCEE
          HEY, HEY... SHUT THE FUCK UP!

                       TEENAGE FAN #1
          BIT ME!

                       TEENAGE EMCEE
          Hey, come on, alright?...... Okay,
          starting off tonight we have... WILL The
          Thrill, fighting Mayhem MIKE. Then next,
          young MATT is going after his buddy,
          PETE. EVERYBODY READY?

A crazed whoop explodes from the fired up fans.

                       TEENAGE FANS
          YEAAAA!

Turning to the two waiting fighters, the teenage emcee
asks -

                       TEENAGE EMCEE
          You guys ready? Will? Mike?

Jaws set, both boys nod, yes

Shirtless, wearing his high school gym shorts, Will ducks
under the yellow tape. Mike wears silk, boxing trunks.

Mike’s girlfriend ties her hair band around Mike’s bicep
and soul kisses him for luck. The fans OHHH and AHHH.

                       TEENAGE FANS
          OHHH...AHHH...

Center ring, the unarmed boys stand, anxious to hear what
weapons they’ll be given to fight with.

                       TEENAGE EMCEE
          For the tonight’s first fight, the
          weapons are -

Dramatically yanking back a curtain, the Emcee flings
each boy a mop, and then tosses each a toilet seat.

Loving it, the fans cheer.

                       TEENAGE FANS
          YEAAAA!

The boys heft their weapons. The Emcee BLASTS an air horn
and the Emcee steps out.

Instantly, the boys bullrush each other.
                                                         60.


Using the toilet seat as his shield and the mop as his
jousting lance, Will lunges at Mike, but misses wide.

Tossing the mop, Mike takes the toilet seat in both hands
and CRACKS it against Will’s face a half dozen times.

Will’s cheek rips open. Blood streams from the gash. He
crumbles. Beaten, he looks up and waves Mike off.

Mike cracks Will once more for good measure, then lets
the Emcee stop the fight. Mike’s beaming girl hugs him.

The excited fans are over the top. Bleeding and dazed,
Will is first led, then dragged away.

The Emcee raise Mike’s arm in victory.

                       TEENAGE EMCEE
          Alright...the winner is - MAYHEM MIKE!

                       TEENAGE FAN #2
          AWESOME!

                       TEENAGE FAN #3
          YOU ROCK MIKE!

                       TEENAGE EMCEE
          So now, grab a cold one and hang tight,
          ‘cause fight fans - we gotta’ us a treat
          coming up. Two rookies. Yep, that’s
          right, Fresh-MEN!

                       TEENAGE FANS
          YEAAAA!

The next fighters, two scared, narrow-chested, fourteen
year-old boys, Matt and Pete, warily edge forward.

                       TEENAGE EMCEE
          You guys got fight names?

The two freshmen whispers their fight names to the Em-
cee, who, with the bullhorn, announces them to the fans.

                       TEENAGE EMCEE (CONT’D)
          PETE THE STREET! AND...what was it?

                       MIKE
          Mo Money...Mo Money Matt.

                       TEENAGE EMCEE
          And MO MONEY MATT! We got Street versus
          Money. Alright then. What say, let’s us
          RUMBLE!
                                                         61.


                       TEENAGE FANS
          YEAAAA!

Pete and Matt’s gangly, freshman seconds give their
fighters a final rubdown and whispered instructions.

A smiling girl hands the Emcee two, brown paper bags.
Eyeing the bag skeptically, Pete whispers to Mike, asking-

                       PETE
          It’s not shit is it?

Mike shrugs. The Emcee, overhearing them, plays to the
crowd, holds the bags at arms length and peeks in.

                       TEENAGE EMCEE
          Ahhh, no such luck gentlemen, but thanks,
          bags of shit - we’ll definitely keep that
          in mind... But for your weapons tonight
          ...we got us a kitchen theme going on
          here. You take Home Ec don’t you Pete?

Mortified, Pete vigorously shakes his head, no.

                       TEENAGE EMCEE (CONT'D)
          Maybe I was thinking of your sister. Ahh,
          anyway...

The Emcee gives each fighter a frying pan and a serrated,
plastic knife.

Looking frightened and confused, both take their weapons
and square off. The air horn BLASTS. The battle starts.

PETE AND MATT

Circling each other, they CLINK frying pans and slash at
each other with their plastic knives.

Suddenly, Frisbee-like, Matt hurls his frying pan,
gashing Pete’s temple. Blood gushes.

Seeing his own blood, Pete goes berserk. Lunging head-
long, he slashes and hacks at Matt’s neck.

COPS

At the garage’s backdoor, unseen by the blood-riled teen-
age fans, four uniformed police are poised to rush in.

The cops are fight fans too and they’re enjoying it, so
before busting-up the party, arms folded, they watch.
                                                      62.


                       SUBURBAN COP #1
          Now Sarge?

                       POLICE SERGEANT
          No, no...hold on. Hold on...

Pete plunges the knife tip into Matt’s neck. It sticks
and vibrates with Matt’s pulse. Loving it, the fans howl.

                       TEENAGE FANS
          YEAAAA!

                       POLICE SERGEANT
          Wow, will ya look at... Man oh man...
          Ahhh, come on, guess we gotta’... Alright
          - NOW!

The police charge. Teens scatter. The teenage Emcee
shouts one last time into the bullhorn.

                       TEENAGE EMCEE
          COPS! COPS! RUN!

Tossing his bullhorn, the Emcee follows the others
jamming through doors and diving out windows.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:

INT. TV NEWS SHOW - NIGHT

In a point, counter-point, TV news segment, two talking-
heads debate the pros and cons of TTD.

                       PRO/FEMALE
          ...So your question is, “Why do people
          watch?”

                       CON/MALE
          Yeah. Tell me. What’s the fascination?
          Why in the world...?

                       PRO/FEMALE
          Are you kidding? It’s exactly the same
          reason people rubber-neck when cars
          collide on the highway...

                       CON/MALE
          What? We’re all ghouls?

                       PRO/FEMALE
          No. It’s simply a hard-wired fascination
          with blood and violence. Whether you like
          it or not, it’s who we are. It’s part of
          our DNA.
                                                        63.


                       CON/MALE
          No, no. I think we’ve climbed out of that
          ancient swamp long, long ago.

                       PRO/FEMALE
          ...for a million years, for nearly all of
          our evolutionary history we’ve been the
          cowering prey... we’ve been some other
          creature’s dinner...

                       CON/MALE
          Well, that’s very nice, but in case you
          forgot, this is the 21st century.

                       PRO/FEMALE
          ...it’s only recently that our big, fat
          human brains have let us turn the tables -
          allowing us to be the hunters we were
          born to be. Allowing us to now draw the
          blood...

                       CON/MALE
          And...?

                       PRO/FEMALE
          And we love it!

                       CON/MALE
          That’s a funny way to use, “love”. What
          about compassion - and kindness?

                       PRO/FEMALE
          Darwin never said, “Survival of the
          kindest.”

                       CON/MALE
          Did Darwin ever say we should kill each
          other on cable TV?

                       PRO/FEMALE
          No, but I’ll bet he’d watch.

                                                DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. OUTSKIRTS OF TUNARU - DAY

Trailed by panting martial arts students, Manning
trains, running hard through the outskirts of town.

Stopping at a construction site, he picks up to two
cinder blocks and cranks out 20 lateral side raises.

Muscles shaking, he tosses the blocks aside, spots a lone
block and with a sidekick smashes it to smithereens.
                                                         64.


In the next beat, he’s off running again with his wheez-
zing, student entourage struggling to keep up with him.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. TUNARU DOCKS - EVENING

On the docks, Manning leads his fellow marital arts
students on an improvised, obstacle course.

Manning scrambles halfway up the super structure of a sky
crane extending out over the water.

From it, he jumps onto a 30 foot I-beam, jogs across it
and leaps up onto a row of steel shipping containers.

Landing and tumbling, on the containers, he hops up and
sprints full out, jumping from one container to the next.

Grabbing a guy wire, he slides down, runs, and zig-zags
between a half-dozen large wooden shipping crates.

Having lost all the students, but Hikili, Manning leaps
from the wharf and grabs a docked ship’s anchor line.

Followed by Hikili, hand-over-hand, Manning inches his
way up to the line and throws himself on board.

Tired and shaking, he leans over the rail and encourages
the exhausted Hikili to keep coming.

                       MANNING
          Just a little more. Come on, come on, You
          can do it.

Hikili pulls himself up another foot, but arms trembling,
he can’t hold on and tumbles 30 feet, onto the docks.

Hikili tries to hop up, but can’t. His bloody leg bone is
poking out of his skin. It’s a compound fracture.

Manning shakes his head, but doesn’t hesitate. Sliding
down the line and immediately starts first aid.

Stifling the intense pain, Hikili looks first to his
protruding leg bone, then to Manning.

                       HIKILI
          My fight, the Stadium...

Manning gently places his hand over Hikili’s lips,
silencing him.
                                                         65.


                       MANNING
          Shhhh...gotta’ take care of this bad boy
          first.

                                                     CUT TO:


INT. OVAL RING - MORNING

More combat. The stadium is full. The crowd’s excited.

A “COWBOY” and an “INDIAN” with their forearms lashed to-
gether - ready to slice at each other with Bowie knives.

                       ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
          This should be a good one.


INT. MARTIAL ARTS STUDIO - MORNING

From a wheeled-in hospital bed, a despondent Hikili, his
leg in traction, watches his fellow students work out.

Off to the side, the Instructor and Manning are having a
heated discussion. The students strain to hear.

Pleading, the Instructor points to Hikili. Half-
heartedly, Manning shakes his head, no.

The Instructor persists. Manning again shakes his head,
no. The Instructor claps for his student's attention.

Forming a semi-circle, the students gather around their
Instructor and Manning.

As his eyes’s penetrate Manning’s, the determined In-
structor points at Hikili, then looks to his student’s.

Understanding their Instructor’s plea for Manning to
fight for Hikili, the student’s faces implore Manning.

Manning looks from Hikili, to the Instructor and back to
the students. Reluctantly Manning shakes his head, yes.

The excited students rush forward to embrace him. The
Instructor bows respectfully. Hikili fights back tears.

Though embarrassed, Manning is flattered with all the
fuss.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:
                                                         66.


INT. OVAL RING - MORNING

A ring official checks the rawhide strip lashing the
Cowboy and Indian together. He nods, its good.


INT. BROADCAST BOOTH - MORNING

                       ANNOUNCER #2
          Paul, the idea for this match was mailed
          in by a Mrs. Kathleen Garner in, ahh,
          Bakersfield California.


EXT. MRS. GARNER’S MODEST BUNGALOW - DAY - (ESTABLISHING)


INT. MRS. GARNER’S LIVING ROOM - DAY

BAKERSFIELD TV REPORTER interviews MRS. GARNER.

                        BAKERSFIELD REPORTER
          ...So you got the idea you sent in from a
          movie you saw. Do you remember the name
          of the movie?

                       MRS. GARNER
          No, it just come on one night. Two Injuns
          a fightin’.

Mrs. Garner turns to her couch potato husband, George.

                       MRS. GARNER (CONT'D)
           George, was it Comanches?

Sunk down, at one with the sofa, George only shrugs.

                       MRS. GARNER (CONT'D)
          Anyways, I says, ‘George, I says, this
          Injun fighthin’s a goodn’, I’m send’er
          in”.


INT. OVAL RING - MORNING

                       ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
          Kudos Kathleen. Great to see the ladies
          coming up with ideas.

The fight’s begun. Slashing viciously at each other, the
Cowboy and Indian whirl one another around the ring.
                                                         67.


STADIUM SPECTATORS

Stadium spectators slurp their ice cream and contentedly
munch their popcorn, as they follow the deadly action.

Ringside, in the VIP section, O’Connor, King Pukapukan,
Romanovich and Manning stare up, watching the fighters.

Spotting Manning, the hero of Tunaru, autograph seekers,
pens poised, engulf him and thrust their programs at him.

Manning’s enraptured fans represent every demographic -
black, white and yellow, young, old, men and women.

Romanovich’s eyebrows raise. Seeing Man-ning’s growing
international celebrity isn’t lost on him.


COWBOY AND INDIAN

The Indian ducks, twists and rolls, then suddenly leaping
up, he stabs the startled Cowboy deep, in his right side.

The Indian yanks his knife out, uncorking an angry gush
of blood, from the just below the Cowboy’s rib cage.

                       ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
          Blood. We have blood!

The stunned Cowboy looks first at the spewing blood, then
pitching forward, he looks into the eyes of his attacker.

                       ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
          Uhh, its his liver. Well, that’s that.

As the Cowboy falls, the Indian slices the raw hide cord
binding them together. Dead, the cowboy hits with a THUD.

The ersatz-Indian does a clumsy, imitation war dance and
is ushered off, as the Cowboy’s body is speedily removed.


BROADCAST BOOTH

                       ANNOUNCER #1
          You were right. That was a doozy.

Announcer #1 runs his finger down his cheat-sheet,
scanning it for the upcoming bouts.

                       ANNOUNCER #2
          Oh, yeah. We’ve got more. No dull moments
          around here ever.
                                                         68.


                       ANNOUNCER #1
          Let’s go down below, take a peek in the
          dressing rooms and let folks see for
          themselves what’s coming up.

                       ANNOUNCER #2
          I always like this.


SERIES OF SHOTS - FIGHTERS WAITING THEIR TURN


A) INT. DRESSING ROOM #1

A muscle-bound, blind, weight-lifter does calisthenics.


B) INT. DRESSING ROOM #2

Across the hallway, his opponent, also blind, is a hairy
400 lb, 1970’s, old-style wrestler.


C) INT. DRESSING ROOM #3

Surrounded by his trainers, an eerie-looking, albino man
leans out and looks at his opponent in Dressing Room #4.


D) INT. DRESSING ROOM #4

Glaring back at him, from Dressing Room #4, is his
opponent, a scowling, blond, seven-foot, Amazon woman.


END SERIES OF SHOTS - FIGHTERS WAITING THEIR TURN


INT. TUNNEL BELOW STADIUM

Spotting the next two combatants emerging from the
darkened tunnel, restless fans erupt into wild cheers.

                       THE CROWD
          YEAAAA!

Jaws set, the two fighters walk side-by-side toward the
ring, eyeing each other nervously.

One fighter has obviously had plastic surgery. He looks
like HITLER. The other is a dead-ringer for JESUS CHRIST.

Recognizing this clear cut, evil versus good match-up,
the crowd howls their delight.
                                                        69.


                        THE CROWD (CONT’D)
            YEAAAA!

The distracted announcers remain oblivious and continue
their “happy talk”, as the crowd’s chanting builds.

                         ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
            ...and if I’m not mistaken, today’s your
            birthday, uh...?


OVAL RING

As Hitler and Jesus climb into the ring, the crowd starts
the first of several human “waves”.

                         ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
            My birthday...Holy smokes, I was hoping
            you’d let me off the hook on that one.

Limbering up, Hitler goose-steps and poses. Christ, head
lowered, mumbles prayers and sprinkles holy water.

                         ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
            No way buddy. We got ice cream, candles,
            a cake - the works.

The crowd’s chanting swells. The two opposing chants are
still not quite yet distinct.

                         THE CROWD
            (Indistinct chanting)

                         ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
            Well, I hope the fire from the candles
            doesn’t...

     HITLER SPECTATORS               JESUS SPECTATORS
HIT-LER, HIT-LER, HITLER...    JES-US, JES-US, JES-US...

                         ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
                         (CONT'D)
            No worries. The fire department’s alerted
            and ready. Holy...wait, wait, are you
            hearing this...?

Fist fights break out in the stands. The chants grow more
rabid.

     HITLER SPECTATORS               JESUS SPECTATORS
HIT-LER, HIT-LER, HITLER...    JES-US, JES-US, JES-US...

The crowd’s swelling pandemonium thoroughly flusters both
announcers.
                                                       70.


BROADCAST BOOTH

                       ANNOUNCER #1
          Good God!

                       ANNOUNCER #2
          This is T-T-D! Ah, quick break. We’ll be
          right back...

The nerve rattling thunder of the crowd’s chanting
builds. It’s intensity shakes the broadcast booth itself.

Rattled and mistakenly thinking they’ve already cut to
commercial, the Announcers and the crowd both continue...

                       THE CROWD

  HITLER SPECTATORS (O.C.)      JESUS SPECTATORS (O.C.)
HIT-LER, HIT-LER, HITLER...   JES-US, JES-US, JES-US...

                       ANNOUNCER #2
          Good God Jimmy...

                       ANNOUNCER #1
          They’ve finally gone nuts...

                       ANNOUNCER #2
          Jimmy, lock that fucking door. Lock it
          NOW!


Belatedly, the network cuts to commercial.


EXT. TROPICAL BEACH - DAY (TV COMMERICAL)

A beautiful, long-legged girl suns on a tropical beach.

                       BEER COMMERICAL ANNOUNCER
                       (V.O.)
          The beer you can count on...


INT. ASHAL’S TUNARU CITY APARTMENT - MORNING

Manning watches Ashal packing for a trip. On her TV,
barely audible, the beer commercial prattles on.

Resigned, Manning looks to Ashal.

                       MANNING
          I wish I didn’t have to, but there's no
          way around it, I gotta’ stay - and looks
          like you gotta’ go, huh?
                                                       71.


                       ASHAL
          Just a few days. I’ll be back early
          Tuesday, bright and early.

Manning’s cell phone RINGS.

                       MANNING
          Hello...Oh, hi...yeah, yeah. Okay.

Pacing, Manning is clearly concerned. Covering the phone,
he whispers to Ashal.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          ...my sister.

Ashal nods.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          ...Uh huh, okay, wow. Ahhh, if she needs
          it - tell them to go ahead... Yeah... No,
          don’t worry about that. I’ll get you the
          money. You tell them to go ahead. That’s
          the important thing... Uh huh...Sure.
          Give her a kiss. Yeah, bye... I love you
          too.

Shaken, Manning sighs and looks to Ashal.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          My mom.

Understanding, Ashal nods. They embrace.

                                                 FADE TO:


INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - NIGHT (12 HOUR TIME DIFFERENCE)

Over brandy and cigars, the Board debates the recent
Hitler/Christ uproar.

                       BOSTONIAN
          ...but Hitler...I don’t know...

                       TEXAN
          Are ya’ pullin’ my leg? Good versus evil.
          That’s goddamn perfect.

The Texan turns to the Asian.

                       TEXAN (CONT'D)
          Yang and ying. Am I right? Or am I right?
                                                         72.


Not understanding what the Texan is talking about, the
Asian shrugs. The German look to the Brit.

                       GERMAN
          Does you think we can?

Taking a moment, the Brit considers it and nods, yes. The
rest of the room agrees.

                       BOSTONIAN
          And how long will it take to...

                       TEXAN
          Ah, we got us trailers full of techno-
          geeks - they can splice something
          together in a couple of hours...

                       MOBSTER VOICE
          Yeah, yeah, I’m thinking all we gotta’ do
          is run it like it’s...

                                                     CUT TO:


HITLER/CHRIST, DOCUMENTARY-STYLE PROMO


SPECTATORS IN PROMO

The rabid faces of chanting spectators slowly come into
focus. Thundering Wagnerian MUSIC builds.

     HITLER SPECTATORS                JESUS SPECTATORS
HIT-LER, HIT-LER, HIT-           JES-US, JES-US, JES-US...
LER...

HITLER AND CHRIST IN PROMO

Hitler and Jesus climb into the ring. The crowd starts
the first human wave.

Limbering up, Hitler goose-steps and poses. Christ, head
lowered, mumbles prayers and sprinkles holy water.

     HITLER SPECTATORS                JESUS SPECTATORS
HIT-LER, HIT-LER, HIT-           JES-US, JES-US, JES-US...
LER...


SPECTATORS IN PROMO

The two opposing chants swell.
                                                       73.


     HITLER SPECTATORS              JESUS SPECTATORS
HIT-LER, HIT-LER, HIT-         JES-US, JES-US, JES-US...
LER...

                         ANNOUNCER #2 - IN PROMO
            Good God Jimmy...

                         HITLER SPECTATORS (O.C.)
            HIT-LER, HIT-LER, HIT-LER...

                         ANNOUNCER #1
            They’ve finally gone nuts...


                         JESUS SPECTATORS (O.C.)
            JES-US, JES-US, JES-US...

                         ANNOUNCER #2
            Jimmy, lock that fucking door. Lock it
            NOW!


STRING OF SKY BOX, BROADCAST BOOTHS IN PROMO

The foot pounding and screams thundering through the
stadium shake the sky boxes themselves.

                         ANNOUNCER #2 - IN PROMO
                         (O.C.) (REVERBATION FX)
            NOW!...NOW!...NOW!...NOW!...NOW!...


HITLER/CHRIST, DOCUMENTARY-STYLE PROMO CONTINUES ON THE
ANNOUNCER’S BROADCAST BOOTH MONITOR


INT. BROADCAST BOOTH - MORNING (DAYS LATER)

With the Hitler/Christ promo running “live” on the net-
work, Announcer #1 and #2 watch it on their monitor.

When it ends, they look at each other sheepishly and
share a good-time laugh.


OVAL RING

Below, live, another TTD event gears up. A ring official
signals the fighters to enter the ring.

For a pulsing beat, the promo’s reverberating, “NOW”
still booms underneath, the on-the-air announcers, “Now”.
                                                        74.


                         ANNOUNCER #2 - IN THE
                         PROMO(V.O.) (REVERBATION
                         FX)
            NOW!...NOW!...NOW!...NOW!...NOW!...


BROADCAST BOOTH

                         ANNOUNCER #2
            And “Now” - is where we are tonight.

                         ANNOUNCER #1
            You gotta’ admit, that was quite a night.

                         ANNOUNCER #2
            Oh yea, adrenaline-city. My heart was
            beating like a baby rabbit.

                         ANNOUNCER #1
            I thought for sure we were going to be
            part of the action.

                         ANNOUNCER #2
            You and me both. But down on the stadium
            floor, we’ve got us some more big time
            action - action itchin’ to explode.


OVAL RING

Six new combatants, all enormous men, climb into the
ring.

                         ANNOUNCER #1 (O.C.)
            Will you look at that.

It’s a diverse group - BLACK, WHITE, ASIAN, HISPANIC,
NATIVE-AMERICAN and OCEANIAN (from Tonga).

Ring officials blindfold each man with a leather hood and
secure each with a padlock.


BROADCAST BOOTH

                         ANNOUNCER #1
            Says here, Battle Royale. But what’s with
            the hoods?

                         ANNOUNCER #2
            Well this, this is classic, old-school
            Battle Royale.
                                                        75.


                          ANNOUNCER #1
            How’s that?

                         ANNOUNCER #2
            Before the Civil War, Southern plantation
            owners picked a half dozen...


OVAL RING

Clinging to the ropes with one hand, the six blindfolded
combatants grope the air in front of them.

SERIES OF SHOTS/ OF EACH COMBATANT INTERCUT WITH HIS
“FANS”

Each fighter’s CU is intercut with that fighter’s
particular ethnic fans.

A) CU - The Black fighter stomps, grimaces and clenches
his teeth.

                          ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
            ...of their biggest, toughest field hands
            to fight in the ring...

B) Liking what they see, a smartly dressed group of Black
men nod to each other and cheer their fighter.

                          ANNOUNCER #1   (O.S.)
            Yeah...?

C) CU - Pumping himself up, the White fighter fist pounds
his chest..

                         ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
            ...blindfolded’em and let’em all slug it
            out - to the last man standing...

D) In matching Polo shirts, a White father with his young
son on his lap, excitedly points out their fighter.

                         ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
            Well, it looks like we got the U.N. in
            there.

E) CU - The Asian fighter psyches himself up by flexing
his muscles and by puffing his cheeks in and out.

                         ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
            But this isn’t boxing. This is the real
            deal. No holds barred - TTD.
                                                        76.


F) Pointing to their man, a block of wealthy, Asian
businessmen eagerly bet with nearby, non-Asian fans.

                         ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
            So, last man breathing...

G) CU - The Hispanic fighter drops to one knee crossing
himself.

                         ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
            You got that right.

H) A Hispanic father sits with his arms around his child-
ren. Their mother clasps her hands in prayer.

                         ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
            I can guarantee, real soon, it’s gonna’
            get mighty rough in there.

                         ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
            ...Yep, and you know what we always
            say...

I) CU - The Native American fighter bobs his head and
shuffles his feet in a solemn, personal, war dance.

                         ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
            If you don’t like what you see...

J) A solitary, ancient-looking, Native American sits
ringside bobbing his head in unison with his fighter/son.

    ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)            ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
          (CONT'D)             ...look away...look away...
...look away...look away...


K) CU - Calm and composed, Buddha-like, the Oceanic
fighter stands apart from the others.

                         ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
            Look away - that’s what we say.

L) Two dozen Oceanic fans, relegated to the upper tier,
cheer wildly for “their” fighter.

END SERIES OF SHOTS/ OF EACH COMBATANT INTERCUT WITH HIS
“FANS”


OVAL RING

The bell RINGS. Five of the six fighters, having
predetermined an opponent, rush to attack.
                                                         77.


One, the Oceanian, steps to the side and remains still,
“hiding”. To be heard, the announcers shout over the din.


BROADCAST BOOTH

                         ANNOUNCER #2
            You don’t like what you see?

                         ANNOUNCER #1
            You got an on and off on that TV...?

Announcer #2 winks knowingly into the camera.

                        ANNOUNCER #2
            Use it...


OVAL RING

The ring melee is insane - leaping, twisting, kicking,
biting, stomping, ripping, breaking, choking...

                         ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
            ...but I don’t think you will, ‘cause you
            can’t. Can you?

                         ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
            Its too good.


BROADCAST BOOTH

Both announcers chuckle. Announcer #1 SNAPS open a
newspaper.

                         ANNOUNCER #1
            The Times says TTD is...”savage
            barbarians appealing to trail-trash, pond
            scum.


OVAL RING

                         ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
            I don’t know where all those trailers are
            going to park...

The ring is a mad blur of cartwheels, sweeps, head butts,
punches, chops and kicks.

The fighters use every imaginable martial art form, tae-
kwondo, karate, kung fu, wing chun, capoeira and savate.
                                                         78.


Men smash and rip each other apart - gouging eyes,
ripping jaws, breaking arms and snapping necks.

They’re killing each other.


BROADCAST BOOTH

                          ANNOUNCER #2
             ...’cause we’re picking up a million
             faithful, new viewers every few days.


OVAL RING

In the ring, four fighters lay bloody, twisted and dead.
Only the Native American and the Oceanic remain.

Mistakenly thinking he’s alone and won, the Native
American fighter begins leaping about and celebrating.


SPECTATORS

The crowd, incensed over the Oceanic fighter’s seeming
cowardice, boos, stamps their feet and hurls programs.

                          THE CROWD
             BOO...BOO...BOO...BOO...BOO...BOO.


OVAL RING

They boo until the Oceanic fighter stealthily begins
creeping up on his oblivious, swaggering opponent.

Reveling in this exciting, shared treachery, the crowd’s
hoots and hollers abruptly turn to enthusiastic cheers.


SPECTATORS

                          THE CROWD
             YEAAAA! YEAAAA! YEAAAA! YEAAAA! YEAAAA!


OVAL RING

Hearing this change in the crowd, the frightened Native
American fighter suddenly drops into a defensive crouch.

Frantically groping the air in front of him, he strains
to hear his father’s frantic warnings.
                                                         79.


As his father screams, he takes large BOOMING steps, and
“test-kicks” the dead bodies laying at his feet.

Sensing him coming, the Oceanic fighter, rolls forward,
abruptly lays flat and feigns being another corpse.

Stumbling over him, The Native American fighter sharply
kicks the stone-still, possum-playing, Oceanic fighter.

                       ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
          Well, I’ll be...the big Tongan fellow’s
          just been laying low in the tall grass
          waiting for his moment.

Tallying up bodies on his fingers, the Native American
fighter’s count is five. Thinking he’s won, he grins.

                       ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
          You see that? The Tongan’s tricked him.
          He thinks he’s alone.

Seeing the Native American’s fatal mistake and sensing
the coming reversal, the crowd goes berserk.

                       THE CROWD
          YEAAAA! YEAAAA! YEAAAA! YEAAAA! YEAAAA!

                       ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
          That friends is some survival strategy.

                       ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
          The Chief’s calling for them to take off
          his blindfold. This should be good.

Ignoring the warning screams around him, the Native
American fighter raises his arms in victory.

                       ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
          Look, look, he’s sure he’s won.

With every strut the Native American fighter takes, the
Oceanic fighter scuttles along, just in front of him.

                       ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
          Oh no...

Playing to the crowd, the Oceanic fighter touches his
finger to his lips, imploring them not to betray him.

The crowd hushes for a moment, then bursts into a mad
roar of a conspiratorial approval.

                       THE CROWD
          YEAAAA! YEAAAA! YEAAAA! YEAAAA! YEAAAA!
                                                         80.


The Oceanic fighter uses the crowd’s pandemonium to scoot
around the Native American fighter and pop up behind him.

The deathblow is coming. Every fan leans forward in
anticipation. The Oceanic fighter relishes the moment.

The stadium’s sudden, deathly silence, panics the Native
American. Desperate, he looks to his father’s voice.

                       NATIVE AMERICAN FATHER
          BEHIND, HE’S BE...

Its only at this instant, the Native American fighter
comprehends and tries spinning around - but too late.

The Oceanic fighter springs up and in a single motion -
SNAPS Native American’s neck like a dry, chicken bone.

Seeing his son’s head flop lifelessly backwards, the
Native American’s father tears his hair from it’s roots.

Diving under the ropes, he tries to get to his tottering
son, but security slams him down and Tasers him.

The stadium erupts in a primal, blood-lust scream.

                       THE CROWD
          AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

Ring officials unlock the Oceanic fighter’s blindfold.

Squinting into the glaring ring lights, the exhausted
Oceanic fighter soaks in the crowd’s fickle adulation.

Looking up, beyond the ringside high-fives, he spots the
jubilant, upper tier section - his fellow Oceanics.


OCEANIC SECTION OF THE CROWD

Back slapping and hugging, the Oceanic fans jump, twirl
and dance in the aisles.

                       ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
          Whew...man oh man. There’s no script for
          that.

                       ANNOUNCER #2 (O.S.)
          None. It’s why we’re on top.
                                                         81.


OVAL RING

Still looking up and waving, the Tongan, stepping over
bodies is eased out of the ring. Another fight is coming.

                         ANNOUNCER #1 (O.S.)
            Tip of the hat. Thank you planet earth.


SERIES OF SHOTS - WORLDWIDE FANS WATCHING TTD


INT. LOUNGE, NEW YORK GENTLEMAN’S CLUB - DAY

A mix of well-heeled men in business suits and tennis
whites sip cocktails and enjoy TTD.


INT. SUBURBAN GARAGE - NIGHT

The same teenage group as before. All are avidly watching
TTD. Boys proudly sport their fresh gashes and bruises.


INT. FASHIONABLE WOMAN’S SPA - DAY

Madly pumping their stationary bikes, a half-dozen,
thirty-something women look up at the TV to catch TTD.


EXT. RURAL, MEXICAN TOWN SQUARE - NIGHT

Near the dilapidated bandshell, the entire village watch-
es TTD, on the communal TV, hanging between two poles.


INT. SMALL, SICILIAN BARBER SHOP - DAY

A dozen, enthusiastic, TTD patrons pack the tiny shop.


INT. LOW RENT, DOUBLE-WIDE TRAILER - MORNING

With chips and beer for breakfast, a trailer-park family
cheers the TTD carnage.


EXT. SUBURBAN, POOL-SIDE BAR-B-QUE - NIGHT

Eating burgers and sipping Cokes, an All American family
watches TTD.
                                                       82.


INT. RURAL, TONGAN HUT - NIGHT

Beneath their palm thatched roof, an enthralled Tongan
family watches TTD on their massive, 47” big screen TV.

Watching their fellow Tongan sneaking up on his sole
remaining opponent, the Native American, they cheer.

                           TONGAN FAMILY
            YEAAAA!


END SERIES OF SHOTS - WORLDWIDE FANS WATCHING TTD


INT. OVAL RING - MORNING

A fight is just ending. A victorious, bloodied, young
African with tribal, facial scars stumbles from the ring.

As he passes, clutching a briefcase overflowing with
money, a smattering of cheers ripple through the crowd.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
            ...talk about your Friday night fights -
            how about that one.


BROADCAST BOOTH

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2
            Oh yeah, I’m telling you, that could’ve
            have gone either way.

                           TV COMMENTATOR #1
            What’s next?

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2
            We’ve got one I know I’ve been waiting -
            for - take a look...


OVAL RING

Seeing 7’1”, 400 lbs. THOR OLAFFSON, enter the ring, the
crowd hoots their approval.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
            Sweet Jesus, looks like Rondo Hatton -
            The Creeper in the old movies.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
            That’s Thor Olaffson.
                                                        83.


BROADCAST BOOTH

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2
            And when they were inventing phrases
            like, mountain of a man, they were
            thinking of Thor.


OVAL RING

Awed by Thor’s size and sensing they’re in for a whale of
a fight, the crowd’s excited howls shake the stadium.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
            Mountain is right. 7’1”, 409 pounds.
            Winner of the World’s Strongest Man
            Contest two years running.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
            By the look of him, he could do pretty
            well entering the world’s strongest city
            contest.


STADIUM SPECTATORS

Thousands of heads turn as a second fighter emerges from
the darkened tunnel into the stadium’s bright lights.


BROADCAST BOOTH

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1
            Well look at this, for Thor’s opponent, a
            last minute substitute, a bona fide hero.

MANNING

Flanked by a his two man, honor guard, Tats and Scarface,
Manning walks down the long aisle toward the ring.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
                         (CONT’D)
            The soldier wounded in Tunaru’s battle
            for independence and Silver Star winner,
            Jerry Manning.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
            A familiar face these days.

                        TV COMMENTATOR #1
            You bet.
                                                        84.


OVAL RING

As the ring official outlines the rules, Manning and
Olaffson stare each other down.


BROADCAST BOOTH

                          TV COMMENTATOR #1
             Small town Ohio boy on the big stage.

                            TV COMMENTATOR #2
             Buckle up...

The bell RINGS .

OVAL RING

Ignoring Manning, Thor strides to center ring, looks up,
flexes, turns and lets the crowd admire his physique.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
                          (CONT’D)
             He is a fantastic specimen.

SPECTATORS

Applauding, the fans, Ooh, ahh, hoot and holler
appreciatively.

MANNING

Looking Thor up and down, Manning too is in awe of this
Goliath and mumbles to himself...

                          MANNING
             Jesus H. Christ!

MANNING AND THOR

Thor, remembering Manning, turns and signals him to step
forward. The entire arena goes silent with anticipation.

Taking a deep breath, Manning moves warily toward the
giant looking for an opening.

Dipping down, Manning comes at Thor from the side.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
             The big man’s taunts have the soldier
             moving in on -

Suddenly, Thor grabs for him. Manning counters instantly.
                                                         85.


                       TV COMMENTATOR #1
                       (O.C.)(CONT’D)
          - the giant reaches - Manning strikes
          back, but wait...

Its the right counter, but Thor is simply too powerful.
He brushes aside Manning’s counter and scoops him up.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
                       (CONT’D)
          Oh my God!

To the roar of the crowd, Thor holds Manning overhead and
paces the ring looking like world’s largest letter “T”.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
                       (CONT’D)
          A straight up fireman’s carry - a full
          out gorilla press.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
          That’s... that’s a “T”. A “T” for Thor!

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
          Is he? Yes. He’s going slam him.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
          A fifteen foot Powerbomb!

Steadying himself, Thor readies to hurl Manning 15 feet
straight down. Instead, he tosses him three feet higher.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
          No.

                       TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
          Yes.

Tumbling from well above Thor’s head, Manning flails to
regain any kind of equilibrium.

Thor, with his massive arm extended and rigid, is ready
for him.

Gut exposed, Manning lands squarely on Thor’s enormous
fist and hits the canvass like a deflated toy balloon.

  TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)      TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
Ahhh...                       Ohhh...

The crowd’s blood lust explodes into wild cheers. While
Manning looks finished, Thor is only beginning.
                                                         86.


Thor snatches the bell off the official’s table, turns
and rips lose a ring corner cushion.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
             What’s he doing?

At one end of the ring, Thor spaces the two objects six
feet apart, setting up a makeshift soccer goal.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
             Oh no.

Thor hauls the still gagging and gasping Manning into
position, lining up a shot on goal with his size 19 shoe.

                         TV COMMENTATOR #1 (C.O.)
             Soccer?

                          TV COMMENTATOR #2
             Yeah, and it looks like Argentina versus
             the Maldives.

Manning sees what’s coming, but is powerless to stop it.
He knots up, looking like a turtle without it’s shell.

Pointing at the crumpled up Manning, Olaffson belly-
laughs and calls out -

                          OLAFFSON
             CURL UP LITTLE FELLOW, BUT YOU CANNOT
             HIDE.

With all his fury, Thor kicks Manning toward the goal. As
Thor kicks him again and again, Manning tumbles forward.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
             The Hero of Tunaru is bleeding from the
             mouth.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
             That’s gotta’ be from something internal.

Delirious with the brutality of the spectacle, cheers
erupt when Thor finally nudges Manning through the goal.

SPECTATORS

Ready now for the finish, fans screech madly.

MANNING AND THOR

Holding up one finger for the goal he’s just scored, Thor
leaps up onto the ropes and leers down at Manning below.
                                                         87.


Spreading his arms, Thor prepares to jump with all of his
400 lbs onto the hapless Manning and finish him off.

Springing up, Thor brings his legs to his chest, then
going rigid, comes down spear-straight, right at Manning.

Seeing the coming horror, stunned TV commentator #2 is
barely able to speak. In a choking voice, he whispers...

                            TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
                            (CONT’D)
             Brainbuster.

But no, Manning’s ready for him. Timing it perfectly,
Manning rolls free, kips-up and faces the startled Thor.

Using Thor’s disorientation, Manning springs into a
sweeping butterfly kick, fist chopping Thor’s trachea.

SPECTATORS

Fickle fans immediately abandon Thor and roar for
Manning, the tenacious underdog.

MANNING AND THOR

Thor, sputtering and clutching his collapsed windpipe,
hits the canvass like a felled Redwood. Its over.

Bleeding and unable to stand fully upright, Manning looks
little better, as he gazes down on the motionless giant.

Taking the steel striking hammer from the official’s
table, Manning limps over and picks up the timer’s bell.

                          TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
             The bell. He’s got the bell.

Balancing the bell on Thor’s forehead, he strikes it
once, parts the ropes and climbs from of the ring.

MARTIAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR AND STUDENTS

Quietly elated, the Martial Arts Instructor, stands to
leave with great dignity.

Trailing behind him, his exuberant young students,
furtively high-five each other.

MANNING

Hobbling back into the tunnel, Manning is enveloped by a
crush of reporters.
                                                        88.


                       REPORTER #1
          Was he as tough as he looked?

Incredulous, Manning stops and stares at the reporter in
disbelief and nods slowly, yes.

                       REPORTER #2
          When did you know you had him?

                         MANNING
          When? Never.

                       REPORTER #3
          Think you’ll like being rich and famous?

                                                     CUT TO:


INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - NIGHT

Celebrating after Manning’s astonishing battle, the
gathered money men toast one another..

                         BRIT
          First rate.

                       ASIAN
          Good fighter. People like him. He, how
          you say, he the All...All

                       TEXAN
          All-American boy.

                       ASIAN
          Yes, yes, All-Amelican boy.     (All-
          American boy)

In praise, the Bostonian raises his glass.

                       BOSTONIAN
          Here, here! He is at that.

Having lost his bets, the Mobster scribbles out checks,
rips them from his checkbook and hands them around.

                       MOBSTER
          I’ll like’em a lot better when I start
          bettin’ him right.

Pocketing their checks, the winners stifle their smiles.

                       MOBSTER (CONT’D)
          Don’t nobody say nothing.
                                                         89.


INT. ASHAL’S FAMILY HOME - MORNING

Sitting on the dirt floor, two dozen family members watch
Manning’s fight on their sparkling, new, big screen TV.

On the screen, Manning is shouldering through the last
knot of reporters, before disappearing into the tunnel.

ASHAL

As her mother holds her, tears roll down Ashal’s face.

                                                     CUT TO:


INT. ROMANOVICH’S LUXURIOUS ISLAND OFFICE - DAY

ROMANOVICH leans back in his chair, as two, slick, 30-
something promoters do their dog and pony sales show.

On Romanovich’s desk they line up TTD action figures -

Little Viking and the Indian Midget, Albino Man and Am-
azon woman, Hitler and Jesus and the Battle Royale crew.

PROMOTER #1 proudly holds up a 5” Indian Midget figure.

                       PROMOTER #1
          Now these are only prototypes. But look
          at the detail. See that grimace.

                       PROMOTER #2
          That’s real pain.

                       PROMOTER #1
          And I tell you, everybody at the factory
          is higher than a kite over these
          beauties.

Promoter #1 lines up the six Battle Royale fighters.

                       PROMOTER #2
          Say the word and we can do 15,000 sets a
          day.

As promoter #1 holds up their Hitler figure, nose-to-nose
with Jesus, Romanovich smiles noncommittally.

                       PROMOTER #1
          And these two, these are going to be
          ridiculous.

                       PROMOTER #2
          Absolutely sick.
                                                       90.


Romanovich nods toward their stack of DVD’s. Encouraged,
Prompter #1 snatches up four DVD games and fans them out.

Romanovich examines the one titled, All American Boy
featuring Manning and Thor on the cover.

                       PROMOTER #2 (CONT’D)
          In the Mid-west and West, All American
          Boy tested completely off the charts.

                       PROMOTER #1
          The preliminaries in Japan and China -
          same thing.

                       PROMOTER #2
          That’s China you understand!

                       ROMANOVICH
          Yes, I heard.

Feeling they’re losing Romanovich, who’s still studying
the All American boy DVD, Promoter #2 whispers -

                       PROMOTER #1
          The pilot, show’em the pilot.

Promoter #2 hurriedly fishes a DVD from the pile.

                       PROMOTER #2
          This, you’ll love this. Special for the
          little ones, a Saturday morning All
          American Boy, TTD cartoon, done by the
          same people who just did -

                                                    CUT TO:


INT. MARTIAL ARTS STUDIO - DAY

Students practice their forms as the Instructor and
Manning talk.

MANNING AND INSTRUCTOR

                       MARITAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR
          They called here.

                       MANNING
          Here? They called here?

                       MARITAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR
          Oh yes. Man tells me big ratings, big
          ratings over you - very high. You are
          popular.
                                                        91.


                       MANNING
          Yeah...great.

                       MARITAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR
          They have for you, another battle.

Academy students edge closer trying to overhear their
Instructor’s conversation with Manning.

                       MANNING
          Well, that’s why I came by. I’m done. I
          never should have... but Hikili
          was...well...so I helped out. No more...

From the doorway, there’s shouting. Two students stop
Ashal from entering.

MARTIAL ARTS STUDIO DOORWAY

                       ASHAL
          HE IS TOO HERE. I SEE HIM. HE’S RIGHT
          THERE.

Glaring down the two, muscular students blocking her,
Ashal shoves past them and storms up to Manning.

                       ASHAL (CONT’D)
          YOU LIED TO ME.

                       MANNING
          Wait, wait. That’s why I’m here. I came
          to tell them -

Ashal is nose-to-nose with Manning.

                       ASHAL
          You lied. You promised me - and you lied.

                       MANNING
          I was wrong. I -

Crying, Ashal cuts him off again. She is not there to
listen.

                       ASHAL
          I thought you were going to be killed.
          Killed! You lied. You’re...you’re
          a...liar!

She looks him in the eye.

                       MANNING
          Give me a chance -
                                                         92.


                         ASHAL
          NO.

Pretending to scrub off the imaginary ring he’d given
her, she rips it from her finger and tosses it away.

Through a heartbreaking sob, she turns and mumbles...

                         ASHAL (CONT’D)
          Good-bye...

Pushing past the astonished students, she storms out. For
a moment, the studio remains deathly silent.

MANNING AND INSTRUCTOR

Manning watches Ashal walk out of his life.

Lip quivering, he looks as though he might even cry.
Then, wiping at his face, he turns to the Instructor.

                       MANNING
          That fight...

                         MARITAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR
          Yes?

                       MANNING
          Hell, tell’em. Tell’em I’ll do it.

                                                   FADE TO:


EXT. TUNARU’S MAIN ROAD - DAY

Tunaru’s transformation is complete. The sweatshops are
gone. In the distance looms the new Pacific Coliseum.

Along the now, tree shaded boulevard, Westerns stroll
past Prada, Gucci, Dior, Armnai, Fendi and Balenciaga.


EXT. PACIFIC COLISEUM - DAY - (ESTABLISHING)


EXT. PACIFIC COLISEUM MAIN ENTRANCE - DAY

This is the grand opening. Standing beside O’Connor, Ro-
manovich hands King Pukapukan huge, ceremonial scissors.

Cutting the enormous ribbon, King Pukapukan leans over,
to speak into the microphone. Romanovich yanks it away.
                                                         93.


The cluster of press instantly abandons Pukapukan and
swing their cameras onto Romanovich.

Crowding in, is the new face of Tunaru, gum-popping, teen
girls, in skin-tight, designer jeans and garish make-up.

                       ROMANOVICH
          This is a grand day for the tiny, island
          paradise of Tunaru. The ancient Egypt-
          ian’s perseverance gave us the majesty of
          the pyramids. The the Greek’s genius
          offered us the elegance of the Parthenon.
          And now, we are humbled by the vision of
          Tunaru’s King, Pukapukan, who bestows
          upon an eager world, the magnificence
          of... The Pacific Coliseum!

As Romanovich's mellifluous voice crescendoes, a sea of
giggling, teenage girls press into the embarrassed King.

Ivan and Swat rescue The King from the excited girls,
hustle him into a limo and off to another appointment.

                                                     CUT TO:


INT. MARTIAL ARTS STUDIO - DAY

Under the watchful eye the Academy Instructor, Manning
goes through the final warm-up before his second fight.

Bare handed, he faces a circle of six sparing partners,
each wielding a different, exotic, martial arts weapon.

Each encounter is an explosive, lightening quick, Bruce
Lee-like clash.

Pressed against the window panes, watching from outside,
are the faces of dozens of spellbound, young boys.

Swinging a wushu chain whip, Student #1 lunges at
Manning. Manning times the back swing and disarms him.

With sweeping motions, Student #2 attacks using a
naginata, a wooden shaft with a curved blade on the end.

Blocking it with his forearm, Manning spins the naginata
from the student’s grasp.

Student #3 rushes, slashing Manning’s shirt with a
vicious looking sai, a dagger shaped truncheon.

Like a matador, Manning side steps the blow and uses
Student #3’s momentum to flip him head over heals.
                                                         94.


Whirling his hanbo, or quarterstaff, Student #4 hits
Manning from behind. Manning reels, but stays up.

Rolling away from a crashing second blow, Manning grabs
the hanbo and cracks Student #4 a decisive blow.

Only students #5 and, Hikili, #6, are left. Eyes riveted
on Manning, they move in.

                                                    CUT TO:


EXT. SWANK NEW TUNARU HOTEL - DAY

Excited Tunaruians are gathered in front of the hotel,
for the dedication of six, sparkling, new fire trucks.

Flanked by Ivan and Swat, King Pukapukan presides in a
theatrically, jeweled crown and a regal, purple robe.

Climbing up, onto Engine #1, Pukapukan bounces on the
seat and twists the steering wheel like a little boy.

The King’s joy is infectious. The smiling crowd applauds.
Ivan jabs a finger at his watch. It’s time to go.

Swat tugs at the King, trying to pry him from the
drivers’ seat. The King wiggles away from him.

Tossing his crown behind him, The King puts on a fire hat
and gleefully BLASTS the air horn.

A little boy jumps up beside the King. Seeing his own,
young-self in the boy, he puts his fire hat on the lad.

Enough’s enough. Ivan and Swat put the King’s crown back
on his head and hustle him into a waiting limo.

Pulling away, to applause, the King looks back sadly at
the delighted, little boy, in the shiny, new fire engine.


INT. MARTIAL ARTS STUDIO - DAY

The fight continues. Whipping sweat from eyes, Manning
braces for the next onslaught.

Students #5 and Hikili, #6, attack simultaneously. #5
with a kama, or Japanese sickle, Hikili with nunchuks.

Manning turns first to stop Hikili’s whirling nunchuks,
but as he turns, # 5 rakes his leg with the kama.
                                                         95.


Bleeding, Manning staggers to one knee. Concerned, Hikili
lowers his nunchuks and goes to aid him.

That’s all Manning needs. In one lighting swift motion he
disarms Hikili, takes the nunchuks and cracks #5’s shins.

Manning, battered and exhausted, resting with his hands
on his knees, looks up at the six men and gasps -

                       MANNING
          Let’s go again.

                                                  CUT TO:


INT. TUNARU BUS - AFTERNOON

Scrunched beside two people, in child-sized seats design-
ed for two, Ashal sits pressed tight, against the window.

The old woman, jammed against Ashal, cradles her young
piglet like an infant, tickling and cooing to it.

The passengers grow still, in anticipation. Everyone
braces for what’s coming, on the road, just ahead.

Suddenly, the rickety bus dips and slams into Tunaru’s
legendary, pot hole, “ The Devil’s Swimming Pool”.

Passengers shoot straight up, off of their seats, and
crack their skulls on the buses’ steel frame roof.

Laughing and relived, everyone cheers. When singing e-
rupts, Ashal covers her face and cries, alarming the pig.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. STADIUM - MORNING (ESTABLISHING)


INT. STADIUM AISLE - MORNING

To cheers, a shaggy, victorious fighter, who looks links
the MISSING LINK, steps shakily, out of the ring.

As they leave, his manager, decked out like a great White
hunter, rubs his fighter’s hirsute, blood-matted, back,

The noise level builds. The fans want more. Manning’s
fight is next. It’s one the fans have been waiting for.

Manning’s Marital Arts Instructor leads his entourage.
Behind him, arms linked, walk his six, fellow students.
                                                         96.


INT. ASHAL'S FAMILY HOME - MORNING

Squatting on the dirt floor of their large family hut, do-
zens of Ashal’s family watch TTD on their big screen TV.

As she helps her mother fix breakfast, Ashal, her back
turned away from the TV, tries to ignore it all.

                       ASHAL’S LITTLE BROTHER
          Ashal, he’s on!

Ashal shakes her head, no, but her mother gives her a
gentle push, encouraging her to glance at the TV.

                       ASHAL’S MOTHER
          You go ahead.

                       ASHAL
          No.

                       ASHAL’S MOTHER
          Go.

                       ASHAL
          No.

Grabbing the remote, Ashal’s Little Brother turns up the
volume. Trumpet fanfare music fills the hut. Ashal turns.

Tip-toeing to see over the row of heads watching the TV,
Ashal sees Manning making his way to the ring.

                                                  CUT TO:


INT. STADIUM AISLE - MORNING

Enlivening the spectacle, loud speakers blast out a
bombastic version of, “America The Beautiful”.

Stopping at the ring’s edge, Manning nods to his compan-
ions, turns, walks up the steps and ducks into the ring.

Across the ring are his opponents, two grinning, twin,
Arab brothers. Both six feet tall and four feet wide.

At the emcee’s nod, a beautiful ring girl enters and
places a gleaming, ivory handled scimitar center ring.


INT. ASHAL'S FAMILY HOME - MORNING

Heads turn to see Ashal's reaction. She waves them off
and points them back to the TV.
                                                         97.


Sneaking a peek at the television, she see’s the gleam of
the scimitar’s vicious looking blade. She gasps.

                        ASHAL
          Ahhh...

                       TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
          Three warriors, one sword. Oh boy...

                       TV COMMENTATOR #2 (O.C.)
          TTD never lets you down.

With the ring girl on his arm, the emcee exits the ring.

The bell RINGS. All three rush for the scimitar. In the
melee, its kicked and sent spinning. There’s a scramble.


EXT. JUNGLE - MORNING

Ashal dashes from the hut and runs into the jungle, leav-
ing her family’s excited whoops and cheers behind her.

Crying, Ashal stumbles on blindly. Overhead, she hears
two, Red-throated Lorikeets. She looks up and smiles.

Shuffling down the narrow path, she’s lost in the Lori-
keet’s fading song and the jungle’s sounds and smells.

Distracted, she wanders until her cell phone RINGS and
the startled monkeys and birds above her, take flight.

Terrified at what she might hear, she holds the phone in
front of her, staring at it, as it continues to RING.

Unable to answer it, she throws it away, runs deeper into
the jungle - and vanishes.

                                                  FADE TO:

CLOSE SHOT OF CELL PHONE (MINUTES LATER)

In the undergrowth, the silent cell phone again RINGS,
until voicemail kicks in and we hear Manning’s voice.

                       MANNING (O.C.)
          Hello Sweetheart. Please pick up. Please.
          Anyway, I want you to know I’m okay. No
          need to worry. But I’ve got to talk
          with...
                                                         98.


                       REPORTER #4/FEMALE
                       REPORTER (O.C.)
          Soldier, soldier, over here. Give us one
          more with the sword. Over here!

                       MANNING (O.C.)
          A minute willya’? - I’m sorry about that.
          These people - I tell ya... Ashal, I’ve
          got to talk to you. Please pick up.
          Please Baby, please...

                       REPORTER #5 (O.C.)
          What a battle... CNB Sports - what can
          you tell your fans about the...

                       MANNING
          ASHAL...ASHAL...!

As Manning and the chaotic post-fight sounds fade, the
cell phone lays alone and tangled in the jungle vines.

                                                     CUT TO:


INT. ROMANOVICH’S LUXURIOUS ISLAND OFFICE - MORNING

In front of him, on his desk, is a line of TTD action
figures.

Smiling, he flicks each one across the floor, until only
one remains - Manning’s action figure.


INT. HALLWAY, ASHAL’S APARTMENT BUILDING - AFTERNOON

People jump aside, as a determined Manning, still in his
fight clothes, stomps down the darkened hallway.

He starts to use the key he has, but instead, takes a
breath, momentarily composes himself and gently knocks.

                       MANNING
          Ashal...ASHAL...

He knocks harder.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          We gotta’ talk. Come on.

When there’s no response, he unlocks the door, steps in
and looks around. The apartment is bare. She’s moved out.

Through the open window, a light breeze flutters the curt-
ains sending scraps of paper skittering across the floor.
                                                         99.


The kitchen and bedroom are bare as well. Leaving, he
spots a solitary, high heel shoe behind the door.

Staring at it, he softly whispers -

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          Cinderella...

Saddened, he gives her shoe a slight nudge with his and
slowly closes the bedroom door until it CLICKS shut.

Standing in the living room, he looks around in disbelief
and breathes -

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          Ashal...

Walking out, he starts to close her door, but instead,
purposefully leaves it open and continues down the hall.

SERIES OF SHOTS - TTD WORLDWIDE VIEWERS

A) Busy city street - people viewing TTD on their
handhelds. Overhead a billboard features Manning.

B) US suburban home - with food laid out, friends and
family gather to watch TTD in a Super Bowl-like party.

C) Huge Asian electronics store - all TV’s are tuned to
TTD as hundreds watch, transfixed.

D) Rural Irish pub - patrons are glued to the screen. A
new poster of Manning hangs beside a tattered one of JFK.

E) African open air bizarre - colorful shoppers stand
mesmerized, watching a TV hanging from a tree limb.

F) Rapt big city passersby gaze up at a giant, outside
screen featuring highlights of Manning’s second fight.

G) Farm house - American Gothic-like couple in front of
their TV, sedately awaiting the coming TTD mayhem.

H) Rear seat of limousine - a wealthy businessman sips
Scotch and watches the limo’s built-in TV.

I) Front seat of limousine - the limousine chauffeur
furtively watches a mini-TV beside him, on the seat.

J) A grizzled motorcycle gang watches a PBS documentary
on the construction of The Pacific Coliseum.

K) Ashal’s family’s hut - dozens watch TTD, as Ashal’s
brothers fight mock battles with Manning action figures.
                                                       100.


L) South American rancho - hard-bitten ranch hands strain
to view the tiny, bunkhouse television.

M) Silicon Valley - from their sterile room, technicians
look through their glass enclosure to glimpse TTD on TV.

N) Russian hospital, doctor’s lounge - Physicians crowd
in to a watch their wall-mounted TV’s wavy picture.

O) Australian outback pub - beer drinking stockmen are
fixed on the pub’s small TV.

P) Indian movie palace - with standing room only, a
thousand straining patrons watch TTD.

Q) Suburban garage - Watching TTD, Will, Mike, Mat and
Pete, sport fresh bruises and various Manning T-shirts.



END SERIES OF SHOTS - TTD WORLDWIDE VIEWERS

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - AFTERNOON

The Texan waves a printout.

                       TEXAN
          We got us - look -    by God, look here at
          the market share.

                       GERMAN
          World Cup numbers.

                        ASIAN
          Billions...

                       BOSTONIAN
          The whole world is watching.

                       BRIT
          I say, where do we go from here?

                       MOBSTER
          Anywhere, anywhere we want...

                                               DISSOLVE TO:
                                                        101.


INT. ROMANOVICH’S LUXURIOUS ISLAND OFFICE   DAY

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Manning
stands before Romanovich’s enormous, mahogany desk.

Behind Romanovich, the gleaming, new Pacific Coliseum
fills the his massive, picture window.

                       MANNING
          Off. I want off.

                       ROMANOVICH
          You want off?

                       MANNING
          This island. I want off. Now.

                       ROMANOVICH
          You know young man, you’re a bit of
          phenomena. I get a hundred press
          inquiries a day about that, “Good looking
          American, that Manning fellow.”

Manning shakes his head. He doesn’t want Romanovich’s
flattery.

                       MANNING
          I want my check.

Ignoring him, Romanovich continues...

                       ROMANOVICH
          ...And at last count, you had something
          like 22,000 marriage proposals -
          proposals from all of over the world.
          Some very beautiful girls...

Romanovich rummages through papers on his desk, until he
finds the one he’s looking for and hands it to Manning.

Paper-clipped to a letter is a snapshot of a voluptuous,
young, African girl wearing a crown.

                       ROMANOVICH (CONT’D)
          Here... here’s one for you. Look at this,
          a real, live princess from... ah...
          Gambia. I’m not even quite sure where
          that is.

                       MANNING
          You wouldn’t like it.
                                                       102.


                       ROMANOVICH
          Still, they love you. You fight. You win.
          They love you.

                       MANNING
          My check.

Interlocking his fingers over his chest, Romanovich leans
back in his chair.

                       ROMANOVICH
          I’ll level with you. You’re a star and we
          don’t want to lose you.

Restraining his temper, Manning holds out his hand.

                       MANNING
          I’d like my check.

Agreeing, Romanovich starts to slide Manning’s check
across the desk, then abruptly, he pulls it back.

                       ROMANOVICH
          Young man, do you like working?

                       MANNING
          Like working? No more than the next guy.

                       ROMANOVICH
          How old do you think you’ll live to be?

Manning is getting angry.

                       MANNING
          If I stop dodging bullets and you hand me
          my check, maybe 70 or 80.

                       ROMANOVICH
          Let’s say 80.

Romanovich punches numbers on his calculator, jots down
numbers on a piece of paper and slides it to Manning.

                       ROMANOVICH (CONT’D)
          Could you live on this for a year?

                       MANNING
          Are you kidding - me and the town I grew
          up in could.

                       ROMANOVICH
          Putting it bluntly son, with it, you
          could ensure your mother’s recovery.
                                                      103.


                       MANNING
          My mother? How do you know about my -

Ignoring him, Romanovich continues.

                       ROMANOVICH
          I make it my business to know people.
          It’s what I do.

Emphasizing his words, Romanovich glances over his
shoulder at the Coliseum he’s just had built.

                         MANNING
          Me as well?

Flipping thorough a thick dossier labeled, MANNING,
Romanovich looks up and smiles.

                       ROMANOVICH
          Inside and out.

                         MANNING
          Okay, so...?

                       ROMANOVICH
          Well, the “so” is...everything we’ve done
          - everything - has led up to this - The
          Pacific Coliseum. It’s opening must be,
          well, it must be - spectacular.

Manning still doesn’t fully understand.

                       ROMANOVICH (CONT’D)
          Give us one more fight. Fight opening day
          and we’ll invest your winnings - and
          you’ll make this - ever year - for the
          rest of your life.

Romanovich slides the figures he’s jotted down across the
desk. Manning looks at it, but doesn’t turn it over.

                         MANNING
          Fight again?

Romanovich nods.

                         MANNING (CONT’D)
          Why? Why me?

                       ROMANOVICH
          Why mood rings. Pet rocks? Hulas hoops?
          Elvis?...Why, why? - because you sell
          tickets. People want to see you. We’re
          businessmen.
                                                        104.


Manning turns the slip of paper over. His eyes widen. He
hesitates.

                       ROMANOVICH (CONT’D)
          That amount. Each year...

                       MANNING
          One fight?

Romanovich pushes a prepared contract across to Manning.
Thumbing through it, Manning reads it quickly.

Manning points to the word “One” in the contract.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          One?

                       ROMANOVICH
          Dangerous - but yes - one.

                       MANNING
          What if I don’t - come out of it? What
          happens to the money?

Romanovich hurriedly scribbles out another figure and
hands it Manning.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          This? This if I... ah...lose?

                       ROMANOVICH
          Yes. With it you can provide for whomever
          you wish.

Manning stares at the numbers.

                       MANNING
          Its enough for...they could...

Romanovich holds out a pen. Manning takes it, dashes off
his signature and the two men solemnly shake hands.

                                                    FADE TO:


EXT. PACIFIC COLISEUM - MORNING (ESTABLISHING)

Balloons float skyward and banners snap in the wind at
the gala opening of the Rome-like, Pacific Coliseum.
                                                       105.


EXT. PACIFIC COLISEUM, VIP DROP-OFF AREA

With limo after limo rolling up, through jostling
paparazzi, it looks like a red carpet, Hollywood,premier.

Exiting “Dashiki-ed”, turbaned and Savile Row-suited
heads of state mingle with international film stars.


EXT. PACIFIC COLISEUM, ARENA FLOOR

From center arena, shredding their latest rock anthem,
the rock band, “Night Snake”, welcomes arriving TTD fans.

The combination of music, color and the anticipation of
the coming combat, pumps the Coliseum with electricity.

A string of press boxes encircle the arena’s upper deck.
From one cubicle, a hand pops out and waves.

                        ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
                        (O.C.)
           You see that my hand? That’s us. Way up
           here. Hello. Here we are.


INT.   CBN ARENA BROADCAST BOOTH

                        ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
           All of you watching this opening day of
           the Pacific Coliseum, well, you’ll have
           something to tell you grandchildren.


                        ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #2
           Oh yeah, no one has seen spectacle like
           this in 2,000 years.

                        ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
           We can’t pretend there hasn’t been
           criticism.


EXT. ARENA SPECTATORS

Looking for their seats, well-heeled, enthusiastic fans
of all nationalities and shades stream in.

                        ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #2
                        (O.C.)
           There has...intense.
                                                       106.


                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
                       (O.C.)
          The pundits say this promotes violence.

                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #2
                       (O.C.)
          I think - just the opposite.

                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
                       (O.C.)
          Yeah?

                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #2
                       (O.C.)
          Since the beginning, mankind’s world has
          been full of war...


INT. CBN ARENA BROADCAST BOOTH

                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #2
          ...TTD channels that basic human drive.
          No continents going at each other. No far
          flung battlefields. An arena. A 50,000
          square foot arena. They fight. Its done.

                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
          And hey, its voluntary. Participants and
          fans - voluntary.


STADIUM SPECTATORS

A family - a mother and father read the program, as the
their son and daughter happily lick their ice cream bars.

                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
                       (O.C.)
          Maybe it’ll mean fewer wars too.

                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #2
                       (O.C.)
          It just might.

                       ARNEA TV COMMENTATOR #2
                       (O.C.)
          Another fact - police departments report
          far fewer crimes when TTD is on the air.

                                                    FADE TO:
                                                     107.


INT. MANNING’S ARENA DRESSING ROOM

Manning, waiting the call to battle, stretches out, in
the same combat gear he wore when he landed on Tunaru.

There’s a KNOCK on the door.

                       MANNING
          You’re too early.

The door swings open.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          I said you’re too -

Ashal peeks in. Manning hops up. They stare. He speaks
first.

                       MANNING (CONT’D)
          You shouldn’t...you can’t...why are you
          here?

                         ASHAL
          Why are you?

                       MANNING
          Why? ‘Cause I’ve lost everything. What’s
          the sense getting on another plane...

                       ASHAL
          No, no you haven’t.

                       MANNING
          ...and dying in some place I can’t even
          pronounc- do you say, ‘I haven’t’?

Ashal nods, yes.

                       ASHAL
          You haven’t lost me.

                       MANNING
          I looked for you everywhere.

Stepping toward each other, they embrace.

                       ASHAL
          I know. It took me a long time, but I
          finally let my brothers show me your
          fight.

She starts to cry.
                                                     108.


                       MANNING
          Don’t - please.

                       ASHAL
          You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known.

                       MANNING
          No, just quick and scared.

                       ASHAL
          I came here to ask you to be brave one
          more time.

Manning looks up, to the now thundering stadium.

                         MANNNING
          I’ll try.

Ashal shakes her head.

                       ASHAL
          No, not like that. Come away with me.

                       MANNING
          Come away? Now?

                       ASHAL
          Yes, while you can.

                       MANNING
          I shook. I gave my word.

                       ASHAL
          That? Forget it. They’ll forget it. It’s
          nothing...nothing.

Ashal pleads, as she tries to pull him toward the door.

                       ASHAL (CONT’D)
          Please...please...please...

                       MANNING
          You want me to run?

Hesitating, Manning looks deep into Ashal’s teary eyes.

                       ASHAL
          No one will ever know.

In a level voice, Manning tries to explain.

                         MANNING
          I will.
                                                       109.


Approaching footsteps BOOM down the hallway. Instantly,
Manning and Ashal’s eyes fix on the door.

A KNOCK. The ARENA STAGE MANAGER pokes his head in.

                       ARENA STAGE MANAGER
          Number 56, MANNING. ITS HAPPENING. LET’S
          GO.

Looking above to the arena, Manning takes a deep breath
and starts for the door. Stopping, he tries to hug Ashal.

She pushes him away, then grabs his hand and kisses it.
As he backs out the door, his eyes never leave hers.


EXT. ARENA GRANDSTANDS

The arena is filled. Night Snake takes their final bows
and rushes off stage.

As the stage comes down, a spontaneous ROAR of
anticipation erupts from the crowd. It’s about to happen.

SERIES OF SHOTS OF INTERNATIONAL BROADCAST REPORTERS


INT. PORTUGUESE ARENA BROADCAST BOOTH

                       PORTUGUESE BROADCASTER
          Logo nesta ilha Pacifica excitantemente
          bela...(Soon on this breathtakingly
          beautiful Pacific island...)


INT. GERMAN ARENA BROADCAST BOOTH

                       GERMAN BROADCASTER
          Sie können die Aufregung fühlen, die
          durch die wartende Menge drängt...(You
          can feel the excitement surging through
          the waiting crowd...)


INT. AFRICAN ARENA BROADCAST BOOTH

                       SWAHILI BROADCASTER
          Jambo. Habari za asubuhi? Twende
          nenda...(Hello. How are you this morning?
          Let us go...)
                                                        110.


INT. INDONESIAN ARENA BROADCAST BOOTH

                        INDONESIAN BROADCASTER
           Ini adalah hari yang modern warriors dari
           kuno Roma...(These are the modern day
           warriors of ancient Rome...)

END SERIES OF SHOTS OF INTERNATIONAL BROADCAST REPORTERS


SERIES OF SHOTS - ARENA SPECTATORS, BOX SEATS

A) A chief Japanese Shinto priest and his entourage.

B) A busty European film star snuggled beside her silver-
maned director, boy friend.

C) The U.S. Head of State and his wife, surrounded by
dark-suited, steely-eyed, security personnel.

D) An Arab sheik with his six, burqa-draped wives.


END SERIES OF SHOTS - STADIUM SPECTATORS, BOX SEATS


INT.   CNB ARENA BROADCAST BOOTH

                        ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
           Its here. The day we’ve all been on fire
           for.

                        ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
                        (O.C.) (CONT’D)
           Look, look, see that?

                        ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #2
                        (O.C.)
           Yeah, yeah. The warriors. They’re coming
           out. There - there on the north end.

The stadium RUMBLES, as tens of thousands of frenzied
fans leap to their feet, ROARING.

                          ARENA FANS
           (ROARING)

                          ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
                          (O.C.)
           YOU HEAR’EM?
                                                       111.


EXT. NORTH END, ARENA TUNNEL

To the bombast of deafening, triumphal music, the
procession of TTD combatants step into the sunlight.

Squinting, as they enter the arena, the single-file line
of a 100 warriors acknowledge their hero’s welcome

Authentically dressed and armed, the combatants represent
finest, historic fighting men throughout history.


SERIES OF SHOTS - 100 CLASSIC WARRIORS, RINGING THE ARENA

A) Assyrian Infantryman, Chinese “Terracotta” Warrior,
Pharaoh's Egyptian Infantryman, Scythian Foot Soldier,
Nubian Infantryman, Trojan Warrior, Spartan Warrior,
Persian Foot soldier (Darius the Great) Macedonian
Warrior (Alexander the Great), Roman Praetorian Guard.

B) Roman Centurion, Roman Gladiator, Germanic Warrior
(Second Century), Hannibal's Iberian Swordsman, Biblical
Jewish Warrior. Visigoth, Mauryan warrior, Briton
Soldier, Pict Soldier, Celtic Warrior.

C) Viking Warrior, Scottish Spearman, Saracen, Bedouin,
Mongol Warrior (Attila The Hun), Arthurian Knight, Muslim
Warrior (Crusades), Sherwood Forest Merryman (Robin
Hood), Norman Knight, Knights Templar.

D) Teutonic Knight, Papal Swiss Guard, Turkish Mamluk,
Spanish Conquistador, Aztec, Maya, Inca, French
Musketeer, Waterloo Highlander, Polish Winged Hussar.

E) Ottoman Infantryman, U.S. Western Mountain Man,
Nagamasa Japanese Warrior, Japanese Teppo Soldier,
Samurai, Japanese Infantryman WWII, Japanese Kamikaze
pilot, Spanish Civil War (International Brigade,
Volunteer) Spanish Civil War, (German, Volunteer), WWII
French Resistance Fighter.

F) Roger’s Rangers (French and Indian War), American
Continental Soldier, British 71st Highlander (American
Revolution), British Sailor (Jack Tar), Texas Volunteer
(Alamo Soldier), Mexican Round Top Soldier (Alamo
Soldier), American Union Soldier, American Confederate
Soldier, Mohawk Indian, Apache Indian,

G) U.S. 7th Cavalryman, Buccaneer, French Imperial
Guardsman, Polish Winged Hussar, Maori Warrior, 6th
Inniskilling British Dragoons (Crimean War), Napoleonic
Cuirassier (Waterloo), 95th Rifles Soldier
(British/Waterloo), Sikh Warrior, Mexican Bandit.
                                                      112.


H) Buffalo Soldier, Texas Ranger, African, Zulu Warrior
(Zulu War), British 24th Foot Soldier (Zulu War), French
Foreign Legionnaire, Rough Rider (Spanish American War)
South Australian Horse Soldier (Boer War), Zouaves
(French, North Africa) ANZAC Sergeant (WWI), 77th Bengal
Lancers.

I) Sepoy Riflemen, Doughboy (US, WWI), German
Stormtrooper (German, WWI), French Poilus (French, WWI),
British Tommie (WWI), British Army Commando (WWI),
British Coldstream Guardsman, 1st Jodhpur Lancers (India,
1918), Russian Civil War, ('Reds') Russian Army,
Infantryman (WWII),

J) British Infantry (WWII), Royal Highlander (Black
Watch, WWII, Canada), Gurkha, German Afrikakorps (WWII),
Waffen SS (German, WWII), U.S. Marine (WWII, Pacific
Campaign), Japanese Kamikaze pilot, U.S. 101st
Airborne,(WWII), U.S. Navy Seal, U.S. Army Special
Forces.


END SERIES OF SHOTS - 100 CLASSIC WARRIORS, RINGING THE
ARENA


INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - NIGHT

The money men stand silhouetted before the massive TV.

Mesmerized, they watch the procession of warriors with
the same rapt awe, as the arena fans.

                       BRIT
          I wonder if we should have simply gone
          with the original idea?

                       BOSTONIAN
          You mean the Romans - the old style
          gladiators?


SERIES OF SHOTS - ARENA SPECTATORS, BOX SEATS - MORNING

Several warriors spot their countryman’s boxes and
receive well-wishes, handshakes, hugs and kisses.

A) The European film star and her boyfriend hug the
Foreign Legionnaire and the Napoleonic Cuirassier.

B) The Arab sheik embraces the Bedouin and Muslim
warriors.
                                                        113.


C) The U.S. Head of State and his wife greet and shake
hands with the Apache Indian and the US, 7th Cavalryman.

D) The Shinto priest, the Samurai and the Kamikaze pilot
bow to each other and to the Japanese Prime Minister.

E) From his position, ringing the arena, Manning, US Army
Special Forces, mutely watches these poignant greetings.


END SERIES OF SHOTS - STADIUM SPECTATORS, BOX SEATS


INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - NIGHT

                       GERMAN
          And lose this - nein, nein.

                       TEXAN
          You got that right. God A-mighty, no way
          Jose.

Transfixed, the men nod their agreement.

                                                     CUT TO:


ARENA FLOOR

Warming-up like athletes before a match, the warriors
slash and twirl their exotic array of weapons.

                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
                       (O.S.)
          What a sight.

                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #2
                       (O.S.)
          Nothing like it’s ever been seen before.

                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
                       (O.S.)
          The weapons are all authentic, am I
          right?

                       ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #2
                       (O.S.)
          Oh yeah, authentic. And they include
          anything hand-to-hand you can imagine,
          but no firearms allowed.

Warriors and spectators look up to the arena clock, as it
starts to tick down from 30.
                                                       114.




ARENA CLOCK

                         ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
                         (O.S.)
            Speeches over, bets down - here we go...

TRUMPETER ON RAMPART

From the arena's topmost promontory, a medieval herald
blows a horn, signaling combat is about to begin.

ARENA SPECTATORS

                         ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #2
                         (O.C.)
            LIKE EVERYONE ELSE HERE...

Wild with anticipation, spectators count-down the time on
the arena clock.

                         STADIUM SPECTATORS
            10...9...8...7...

STADIUM SPECTATORS (CONT’D)      TV COMMENTATOR #1 (O.C.)
6...5...4...3                  6...5...4...3

Braced for combat, warriors wheel, ready to face off
against the man nearest them.

                         ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #2
            I FEEL LIKE I’M GOING TO EXPLODE TOO!

FIREWORKS

At “1”, bursting fireworks ERUPT above the stadium, while
below, deadly, one-on-one battles erupts in the arena.

                        ARENA TV COMMENTATOR #1
                        (O.C.)
            IT’S ON!

ARENA WARRIORS

In the first, mad crush and heave, bodies collide, steel
flashes, limbs tangle and men tumble dead.

Straddling the vanquished, momentary victors raise their
weapons, turn, only to be savagely assaulted again.

A half-minute in, warriors and spectators pause a split
second, to take in the arena’s knee-deep carnage.
                                                       115.


Fighting resumes lightning fast and relentless. Sunflash-
ed glints of steel and agonized screams fill the arena.

Bellowing primal roars, blood spattered warriors leap
over the dead and dying to get at those still standing.

The first minutes’ chaotic bull-rush transforms into more
clear-cut, one-on-one combat.

ZULU VS. BLUE CELTIC WARRIOR

Screaming, a near-naked, blue-painted, spike-haired Celt,
attacks a lithe, glistening, leopard-skinned Zulu.

Circling, both men wield their leather shields to deflect
the quick jabs of the others 6’ fighting spear.

The more aggressive Celt rushes in first. Dodging the
Zulu’s spear, he hacks at the him with his battle axe.

The Zulu side-steps, spins, raises his knobkerrie, his
skull crusher, and smashes the Celtic’s face in.

Even as the bleeding Celtic falls, the Zulu is set upon
by a mad-eyed, sabre-wielding, red-jacketed Ottoman Turk.

BIBLICAL JEWISH WARRIOR VS. CONQUISTADOR

Sword whirling, the Jewish warrior rushes to open ground,
spins and attacks the first man he sees, a Conquistador.

The Jew’s curved blade sparks twice, flashing against the
Conquistador's glistening breast plate, but to no effect.

Cocking his arm, the Conquistador plunges his rapier to
the hilt through the Jewish warrior’s tunic. He drops.

When the dying Jew tries to raise his own sword, the
Conquistador kicks it from his hand and races off.

MAORI VS. WAFFEN SS GERMAN

Nearby, a startled Waffen SS man turns, to confront, a
grimacing, tattooed Maori rushing straight for him.

Having only his eagle handle bayonet left to fight with,
the German snatches up the fallen Jewish warrior’s sword.

Wielding it, he slashes viciously at the Maori, who leaps
away. Swinging his Wahaika war club, the Maori rushes in.

The SS man ducks the Maori’s first blow, but the second
strike, cracks him squarely and shatters his cheek bone.
                                                        116.


Jaw unhinged and hanging, the broken German feebly jabs
his borrowed sword at the wild-eyed Maori.

Raising his war club, the Maori slams it down - cracking
the Waffen SS man’s skull like an egg.

Vaulting over the German’s broken body, the Maori whoops
a haka, victory call and races off to fight another.

MAYAN VS. SPARTAN

The screaming Maori runs past the frozen tableau of a
feathered Mayan warrior facing a battle dressed Spartan.

The Mayan, in a blaze of multicolored, parrot feathers,
stares at the Spartan’s glinting, bronzed armor.

Sizing up one another, neither man moves until the Mayan
loads a projectile into his spear thrower and hurls it.

When it strikes the Spartan’s shield, and simply falls to
the dirt, the Mayan raises his obsidian tipped spear.

Bracing his own long spear, in the dirt, at his heel, the
Spartan draws his short, double-edged sword, his xiphos.

Swinging his shield, the Spartan deflects the Mayan’s
spear thrusts, nearly knocking the Mayan off his feet.

Righting himself, the Mayan, eyes burning, draws his
sickle, circles, and swipes at the unflinching Spartan.

The slicing sickle slashes the Spartan's crimson tunic,
but can’t penetrate his bronze armor.

Frustrated, and in a frenzy to finish his attack, the
Mayan rushes in headlong, for the kill.

The Spartan, as though in slow motion, draws back his
sword, braces, waits, dodges once and thrusts.

The Mayan falls. The blood spewing from his liver pools
over the brilliant plumage turning it limpid in the dust.

With one, quick stab, the Spartan finishes off the still
writhing Mayan. Then, head high, he steps over the body.

ROMAN GLADIATOR VS. MOHAWK INDIAN

As the Spartan sweeps past, a Roman retiarius, a net-
wielding Gladiator, faces a Mohawk Indian warrior.

The blue-streaked, near-naked Mohawk gapes at the Glad-
iator’s glinting trident and whirling fish net.
                                                        117.


Unintimidated by the bristle-haired Indian, the crouching
Gladiator spins his ensnaring net overhead.

As the Mohawk’s tomahawk rakes the air, the Gladiator
tries to entangle it and rip it from the Indian’s grasp.

Fending off the whirling net, the Mohawk is sliced by the
Gladiator's ceaselessly jabbing trident.

The sight of his own blood, only emboldens the Indian.
Hatchet raised, he attacks. The Gladiator is ready.

Whipping his net, the Gladiator yanks the tomahawk from
the Mohawk’s grasp. It spins through the air.

With the Indian unarmed before him, the Gladiator savors
the instant and slowly raises his trident for the kill.

In a blur, the Mohawk dives, rolls, leaps up with a deer
skinning knife and jams it into the Gladiator's neck.

Net, trident and Gladiator fall. Instantly, the Indian
drops, slashes, saws and stands with a fresh Roman scalp.

Tucking his dripping trophy in his belt, the Mohawk
defiantly spins around welcoming any new challengers.

MANNING AND HUN WARRIOR

For a moment, in a slash of sunlight, at center Arena, a
bloodied Manning stands isolated and alone.

At his feet lay his three victims - a Bedouin, a Russian
Cossack and an enormous, mustachioed Arthurian Knight.

Surrounding him, amid the carnage, scattered clusters of
warriors continue hacking and cleaving at each other.

Bent over and exhausted, Manning leans on the massive,
two-handed sword, he’s retrieved from the fallen Knight.

From the corner of his eye, a blade flashes. Manning
ducks. Its whoosh grazes the top of his head.

Sword raised, he spins around to face his attacker - a
fearsome, axe-wheedling, Attila-like, Hun warrior.

Whirling his battle-axe overhead, in a great arc, the
grinning Hun advances, ready to split Manning in two.

As the Hun’s blade slashes down, Manning counters with a
life saving, backhanded parry. Metal crashes and sparks.
                                                        118.


Staggered by the crush of the blow, Manning’s knees
buckle, he wobbles, but keeps his balance and attacks.

Locking eyes on the Hun’s two-headed axe, Manning rears
back and strikes with the full force of his huge sword.

Jumping away, the Hun blocks the blow, rushes and drives
his pointed helmet straight into Manning’s mid-section.

In a savage tangle of clutching and gouging, the two,
knotted men tumble to the sand.

Ringing the fury of their struggle, a pallid stillness
enshrouds them. All eyes in the arena are now on them.

ARENA SPECTATORS

Leaping and screaming madly, the crowd sees, what the two
grappling combatants only sense, total carnage.

THE ARENA FLOOR

All around them, served limbs and glistening entrails lay
scattered in bloody pools, under the blazing Pacific sun.

Dotting the Arena floor, the once, strong, proud bodies
of fearless, young warriors, now lay maimed and twisted.


ARENA SPECTATORS

Seemingly oblivious to this macabre acre of carnage, the
spectators focus on the two, sole remaining warriors.

The crowd’s shared blood-lust, inflames and distorts
their faces into to ghoulish, inhuman masks.

Spittle flying, male and female fans alike, claw the air,
point and scream insanely for one last, terminal horror.

MANNING AND HUN WARRIOR

Hands at each others throats, the two men roll across the
sand, braided in a deadly, snake-like, dance of death.

Manning squeezes out the Hun’s last gasps of air, until
the Hun jams his thumbs deep into Manning’s eye sockets.

Snarling like a dog, the Hun digs at Manning’s eyes.
Screaming, eyes bleeding, Manning twists and rolls away.

Blinded with his own blood, Manning gropes desperately in
the sand for any kind of weapon.
                                                        119.


As Manning swipes blood away from his eyes, the Hun grabs
for a short sword. Instantly, Manning dives at him.

Before the Hun can strike, Manning wraps him up. Freeing
an arm, the Hun cracks Manning in the face with the hilt.

Dazed, but driven forward by instinct, Manning wrestles
the Hun for control of the sword.

Before Manning wrests it from the Hun’s blood-reddened
hand, its double-edged blade gashes both men.

Sword now in hand, Manning regains his balance. The Hun,
bloodied and weaponless, stumbles back, turns and runs.

Bounding, like an Olympic hurdler, over scattered bodies
and limbs, the shaggy Hun races across the arena.

Manning, hobbled by the gash across his thigh, trots,
limping, after him.

Glancing back, seeing Manning in dogged pursuit, the Hun
snatches up an abandoned spear, turns and waits.

Manning ignores the raised spear and keeps coming. When
Manning hobbles into range, the Hun slings the spear.

Unflinching, Manning watches it hurtle straight for his
breast bone. At the last possible instant, Manning turns.

Shooting his arms out, he rips the spear from the air. It
staggers him, but holding tight, he pulls it down.


ARENA SPECTATORS

The crowd’s gasp of awe, over Manning’s prowess, is
followed with hysteric cheers of approval.

Manning’s usually staid Academy Instructor grins from ear
to ear, while his fellow students, scream loudest of all.

MANNING AND HUN WARRIOR

With his newly gained spear hoisted at the ready, Manning
flings aside the sword and limps on in pursuit

Glancing over his shoulder at Manning, the Hun repeatedly
stumbles, scrambles to his feet and runs on.
                                                     120.


ARENA SPECTATORS

The spectators, re-energized with this unfolding hound
and hare chase, spontaneously begin calling out -

                       SPECTATORS
          MANNING...MANNING...MANNING...MANNING...

HUN WARRIOR

Unnerved by the crowd’s chants, the Hun turns and spins,
looking in every direction for escape.

Seeing no refuge in the Arena’s wide open killing field,
the Hun races, helter skelter, for the grandstands.

MANNING AND HUN WARRIOR, ARENA GRANDSTANDS

Leaping, the wild-eyed Hun clutches the railing. Strain-
ing and kicking, he hauls himself up and into the stands.

As the blood-speckled Hun pushes through terrified
spectators, hundreds part before him like the Red Sea.

Following him, Manning with his wounded leg, repeatedly
tries scaling the grandstand wall, but can’t.

To the crowd’s cheers, two, teenage boys, one sporting a
new, Manning, souvenir T-shirt, grab Manning’s arms.

Hauling him up and over railing, the beaming boys make a
quick bow to the crowd and run for their lives.

Shielding his eyes, Manning spots the fleeing Hun.
Hefting his spear, he starts up after him.

Manning’s plodding pursuit of the Hun carves wide
swatches through panicking, grandstand spectators.

Coming to dead end, the Hun, runs out of real estate and
turns back to face Manning.

Catching his breath, he watches Manning lumbering up the
steps toward him.

30 feet from the Hun, Manning stops and tosses aside his
spear. Unarmed, he signals the Hun to stand and fight.

When the Hun steps forward, the crowd hushes. Re-
considering, the Hun dashes sideways, through the seats.

Ripping past terrified spectators, the Hun hurls people
from his path. Veering with him, Manning follows.
                                                        121.


The Hun hits another dead end. There’s no where to go.
Staring down, eight rows below, Manning is still coming.

Looking left and right, the Hun sees a young woman, in a
yellow sun dress, crouching, trying to hide.

Storming toward her, the Hun grabs her and yanks her to
her feet. Behind her, clinging to her, huddles her son.

Shielding her five-year-old, she pushes him further be-
hind her, as she tries twisting free from the Hun’s grip.

Teeth clenched, the Hun tightens his hold on his
hostage’s arm.

                       YOUNG MOTHER
          OWWW!

Darting out, from behind his mother, the young boy goes
after the man hurting his mother.

                       YOUNG SON
          STOP IT. LET HER GO.

Glaring down on the boy, the Hun laughs, until the boy
kicks him, CRACKING him squarely in the shin.

Enraged and hopping on one foot, the Hun flings the
mother aside and snatches up the boy.

The crowd watches, as the Hun, with the sobbing boy
pinioned under his arm, bounds to the top of the stands.

Reaching the top, and again trapped, the Hun whirls about
and forces Manning back, the only way he can.

Flipping the terrified boy upside down, he holds him near
the edge of the Arena wall, 50’ above the parking lot.

With each closer step Manning takes, the Hun dangles the
boy nearer to the edge. Manning stops.

With his eyes locked on the stymied Manning, a slow grin
spreads across the Hun’s lips.

The Hun is so intent on Manning, he doesn’t sense the
vengeful spectators creeping in around him.

Suddenly, from all sides, enraged fans, who’ve cheered
the morning’s heroic carnage, now have their own chance.

Gripped by a mob mentality and attacking from all sides,
two dozen, young men pounce on the astonish Hun.
                                                        122.


As the Hun is overwhelmed and slammed to the ground, the
wild-eyed young boy is ripped from his grasp and freed.

With the Hun down, failing and scratching for his life, a
hundred more, emboldened fans, now eagerly join the fray.

To cheers, the battered Hun is hoisted high above the
bloody scrum and carried aloft to the Arena’s edge.

As the young men swing him wide, over the side, the
entire Arena joins in the Hun’s rhythmic, death chant.

                       ARENA SPECTATORS
          ONE, TWO, THREE...

A second later, the Hun sails over the wall, kicking and
clawing the air, tumbling down 50’, into the parking lot.

With a sickening, blood-splattering THUD, the Hun lands,
spread-eagle, on a wedding-white, Mercedes, stretch limo.


INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - NIGHT

With the shot of the executed Hun still on their TV, the
money men watch, as spellbound, as the Arena spectators.

When they can finally exhale, there’s handshakes, back
slaps and congratulations all around.

                         MOBSTER
          We done it.

                         GERMAN
          Ja! We have!

                       BRIT
          In the stands, of all places - I don’t
          know. We may have to beef up security.

As the TV shows arena fans ecstatic, over what they’ve
all just witnessed, the money men look at one another.

                         BOSTONIAN
          ...Or not.

The room erupts with laughter.

The Brit looks again at the delirious fans.

                       BRIT
          They do seemed quite please with the
          event, don’t they.
                                                        123.


                       ASIAN
          Should not fight success.

Marveling over what they’ve all just seen, the Texan
looks off into the distance

                       TEXAN
          It was... it was like a ninth inning,
          walk-off home run. Wow.

                       MOBSTER
          Poifect. Just poifect.   (Perfect. Just
          perfect).

As triumphant Arena exit music swells, the money mens’ TV
screen begins showing Arena spectators filing out.


SERIES OF SHOTS - ARENA SPECTATORS FILING OUT

This “live” shot of arena spectators filing out, is a
continuation of the shot seen on the money men’s TV.

A) Jabbering a mile-a-minute and acting out the mayhem
they’ve just witnessed, the spectators are over the moon.

B) Security clears a path for exiting dignitaries and
celebrities.

C) In the background, the grounds crew rakes and smooths,
already obliterating remnants of the minutes-old carnage.

D) Remaining in their box, “holding court”, The King,
Romanovich and O’Connor acknowledge departing bigwigs.

E) Engulfed in security men, the Arab sheik, followed by
his wives pass and pay their respects to King Pukapukan.

F) Behind them, with still more security, comes the U.S.
Head of State and his wife.

Looking like he’s campaigning in the Iowa primary, he two-
handedly greets and congratulates all three men.


END FIRST SERIES OF SHOTS - ARENA SPECTATORS FILING OUT


INT. ELEGANT ROOM - NIGHT

Enjoying these high-level exchanges on their TV, the
money men nod approvingly to one another.
                                                        124.


SECOND SERIES OF SHOTS - ARENA SPECTATORS FILING OUT

H) Trailed by paparazzi, the busty European film star and
her director boyfriend, pose with King Pukapukan’s party.

I) Behind them, serenely observing the media frenzy,
the Japanese Shinto priest waits with his entourage.


END SECOND SERIES OF SHOTS - ARENA SPECTATORS FILING OUT

ARENA GRANDSTANDS - MANNING AND ASHAL

Swamped in a sea of pushy, international reporters and
fans, Manning leaps into the air, trying to look around.

Finally fighting their way to him, Arena security strong-
arm a narrow path for Manning escape through.

Jostled along, Manning fends of the mics and lenses
jammed in his face and searches in every direction.

In the distance, rushing toward him, he sees her - Ashal.
Lowering his head, he bulls through the knot around him.

Running, through the bleachers, they meet, hesitate for
an instant and frantically embrace.

Catching up, Arena security lock arms around the lovers,
fiercely holding off rabid well-wishers and reporters.

Raising their camera’s overhead, newsmen capture this
moment between the day’s hero and his beautiful girl.

With Manning surrounded, his fans can’t see him, so they
look up and see him and Ashal on the massive Jumbo-Tron.

JUMBO-TRON IMAGE

Hugging, Manning and Ashal faces are projected, as large
as a three story house, on the mammoth screen.

As the two speak intimately, there is no sound, but
everyone in the Arena can read their lips.

Gazing into each others eyes, Ashal strokes Manning’s
cheek. Nodding, Manning answers her unasked question.

                       MANNING
          I’m okay.

                       ASHAL
          No more. No more.
                                                        125.


Sobbing, she covers his face with kisses.

                       MANNING
          Never. God I love you too.

As the Jumbo-Tron captures their 40’ high kiss, everyone
watching in the Arena, gives a collective sigh.

                        ARENA SPECTATORS (O.C.)
          AAAHHHHH...


INT. ELEGANT BOARD ROOM - NIGHT

With the kiss on their TV, the hard-bitten money men snif-
fle and clear their throats, fighting back misting up.


INT. ASHAL'S FAMILY HOME - MORNING

Enraptured, Ashal’s extended family watches the kiss. The
women weep, the men grin, the little children leap about.

ARENA GRANDSTANDS - MANNING AND ASHAL

Eyes opening, during the kiss, Manning sees himself and
Ashal on the Jumbo-Tron. Pointing, he shows her.

Blushing, she lowers her head. With both of them laugh-
ing, Manning shelters her, as they escape through crowd.


EXT. ARENA SPECTATORS FILING OUT

Fans, streaming out, pass one of the Arena’s enormous
souvenir stands. Eager buyers are lined up six deep.


INT. SUBURBAN GARAGE - NIGHT

Gathered around a TV, the same teenage fight night fans
seen before, punch, kick and wrestle each other.

The teen girls are still swooning over the instant replay
of Manning’s and Ashal’s romantic kiss.


INT. CBN TELEVISION, SENIOR PROGRAMMING CO-ORDINATOR’S
OFFICE - NIGHT

With a phone at each ear, the same harried executive seen
before, searches frantically for a third RINGING phone.
                                                        126.


Digging the phone out from under jumbled printouts, he
glances up, at TTD on his desk TV and starts to cry.

                                                    FADE TO:


EXT. SMALL OHIO TOWN - DAY

In a Town Car limo, Manning, Ashal, Manning’s mother and
his sister, Cheryl, pull up in front of a stately home.

Manning and Ashal help Manning’s blindfolded mother from
the car. She’s still unsteady, but she can now walk.

As they lead her down the flower-lined front path,
Cheryl, overwhelmed, is already crying.

Gently stopping her, Ashal removes mother’s blindfold,
while Manning holds out the key to her new home.

Stunned, she doesn’t quite grasp what all this means,
until, her son presses the house keys into her hand.

                       MANNING
          Yours Mom, yours...

Manning wraps his arms around all three women, as tears
steam down their smiling faces.

                       MANNING’S MOTHER
          As a little girl...it’s the house I
          always use to dream about...

As the four of them push open the front door, the camera
slowly pans across a field, to a building an acre away.

                       MANNING (O.C.)
          And you thought I was never paying
          attention.

                       MANNING’S MOTHER
          Cheryl, did you know?

                       CHERYL (O.C.)
          Um hmm. It may be the only secret I was
          ever able to keep.

The paning camera reveals, the building, an acre away, is
a hospital.

                       MANNING’S MOTHER (O.C.)
          Look, look the staircase is like I always
          thought it would be. Oh, son...
                                                     127.


                       CHERYL(O.C.)
          Mom, wait till you see the brand new
          kitchen.

                       MANNING’S MOTHER
          Oh my...

Breathless and over come with emotion, Manning’s mother
is too choked up to speak.

                       ASHAL (O.C.)
                 (Whispering)
          Should we tell her about, you know, next
          door?

The newly installed sign over the hospital’s main
entrance reads: JUSTINE R. MANNING HOSPITAL.

                       MANNING
          I think - tomorrow.

                                                 FADE OUT.




                      THE END

				
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