VIEWS: 0 PAGES: 127 POSTED ON: 12/29/2012
THE ULTIMATE by George Dykstra George Dykstra 39 Mercury Avenue Tiburon, CA. 94920/USA cell 415.272.6672 - 415.435.3119 email: firstname.lastname@example.org 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
"THE ULTIMATE.Lane.1.4.fdr - George Dykstra movie scripts"