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					Page 1 (5 panels)
#1 is page width across the top quarter; the rest share the bottom 3/4ths
1] Purple nighttime on an urban rooftop. In black silhouette against the lighter sky,
several men are standing around on the roof – one more is floating in from panel left; a
graceful flier coming in for a landing. One man calls to the flier.

       Title (block letters across top): FLIGHT CLUB
       Man #1: Yo, Klutz, how you doing, baby?

2] Several young men gather around Klutz, our main character, and greet him warmly; a
fist-bump from Ups, and slaps on the backs from a few extras. Sort of a ring of smiling
athletes, centered on Klutz, who is clearly happy to be here despite the verbal abuse.
       “Klutz” is a tall, lanky punk-rocker of about 21. He is in terrific shape and has
short, spiked hair bleached almost white. He is pierced through his lip and left eyebrow.
He wears a very tight basketball jersey with no shirt underneath. It doesn‟t quite reach
the waist of his “old school” basketball shorts – which are also pretty tight.
       “Ups” is Latino; shorter and stockier than Klutz, but also clearly an athlete –
massively strong legs and a muscled chest are shown off by bicycle shorts and clingy
Under Armor t-shirt. He is shaved bald.
       The extras are also young athletes of mixed race and body types. They wear
variations on the tight workout gear – except for one who is wearing a full NBA-style
warm up suit that buttons loosely up the sides. (“Skin” is a very tall, thin black teen.)

       Klutz: Getting‟ by, you know how it is – tough between races.
       Ups: Stop breaking bones then.
       2 Klutz: Don‟t complain…only time you‟re gonna win is when I‟m icing an ankle.
       Man #2: You gonna take that, Ups?
       Off from above: He‟d take my foot in his sphincter if it pays right.

3] A heavyset man of about 40 lands with a thud – both knees buckle and he throws his
arms out wide to try to balance; like he fell out of the sky. “Brick” is a little mangy,
losing his hair and is dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. Ups peeks in from the left.
       SFX: WHOMP
       Ups: Yo, Brick, I‟ll pay you my share if you run this one with us.
       Brick: The brains don‟t run, junior, we just count the money.

4] The group walks towards Brick, fishing wallets and wads of cash out of pockets and
waistbands as they go. Brick clicks a pen with one hand and holds a small notepad open
with the other. He speaks without looking at the racers.

       Brick: Speaking of which, buy-in is a hundred, regardless of side bets –
       everybody got the odds in the email?
       Skin: Yeah, man, 7 to 1 on me? You trying to hurt my feelings?
       2 Brick: Hell, Skin, bet yourself then and make a mint.
       Man #3: If you win…for the first time – ever.

5] The racers line up parallel to the roof‟s edge, about ten feet back. Ups and Klutz are
nearest to us as we look down the line (Ups is largest in forced perspective, with
everyone else diminishing as we get farther away). Skin and the man he argues with are
next. Brick is behind the athletes, scribbling in his book.

       Skin: I won before.
       Man #3: Yeah, a match race with Fat Moe…that don‟t count.
       Brick: Moe was faster than both of you, before he crashed the second time, so
       shut up and make your bets before I get the call.
       Skin: Fifty says I finish ahead of what I did last week.
       #3: See, now you‟re being honest with yourself.

Page 2 (6 panels)
#5 is huge and roughly centered, with 1-4 smaller squares arcing above it and #6 wide,
low rectangle below it.
1] From the foreground, Ups shouts off panel. Klutz is besides and behind, whispering
through an almost-closed mouth. In the background, a racer adjusts the wings on a
“flying suit” – a jumpsuit with webbing under the arms and between the legs.
       Ups: YO BRICK – five bills on me!
       Klutz (small): Big bet.
       2 Ups (small): Spend money to make it, son – and this is the only payday I got
       coming.

2] Brick holds a cell phone in place by pressing with his chin, so he can continue to write
in his book with both hands. In the background behind him, Skin rips away the warm-up
suit, revealing nothing but a Speedo underneath. Klutz flinches/laughs.

       Brick: We good?
       ELEC (from phone): All clear, Bricks…set the camera?
       Klutz: Damn, Skin! What happened to the wetsuit?
       Skin: Better aerodynamics like this.

3] At street level, a young man dressed in black fumbles with a fancy camera mounted on
a professional grade tripod. A Blue-tooth blinks in his ear

       ELEC (VO): It can’t possibly be worth it.
       Man: Huh?
       2 ELEC (VO): Not you…just get it ready, please.
.
4] Brick leans over a racer‟s shoulder, holding up both hands and shouting.


       ELEC (from phone): One sec…streaming video…now.
       Brick: All right, all clear!
       2 Brick: Go on three…one…two…

5] Thick border, splash panel: All six racers dive off the roof, right towards us – no flight;
they are leaping into a freefall like Olympic divers. One of the nameless racers wears an
skydiver‟s emergency parachute on his chest.

       VO: THREE!!!
6] As if leaning over the edge of the roof, we see the racers freefall away from us. The
racer in the wing suit spreads his arms and slices through the air; everyone else tucks in
like swimmers. They are diving, so their feet point at us and their heads are directly
opposite of our view. Caption boxes like torn note paper, with “hand printed” copy:

        CAP: Gravity pulls you 10 yards in the 1st second, 20 in the 2nd, 30 in the 3rd, etc.
        CAP: So, after five seconds of freefall, you‟ll be moving over a hundred miles per
        hour; much greater acceleration than you could manage under your own power.
        Speed without effort – so it makes sense to “fall” rather than “fly.”

Page 3 (4 panels)
1] Klutz, Ups and “wingman” roll backwards, as if trying to sit up, straining to brake
before they hit the on-coming street. Clenched teeth and straining muscles show it is a
struggle to turn the momentum, and they kick it in a split second before they crash. We
look up at them from street level. Slightly above them, “skydiver” deploys his chute.

        CAP: The trick is hitting the brakes at just the right time, so you land first…

2] A slightly blurred “photograph” taken from beside the falling men – Ups lands hard,
flexing his knees into a low crouch, struggling to stay upright with his arms thrown out.
Still a few feet from landing, wingman stretches long legs towards the street – he‟ll make
it an instant before Klutz, who is a few feet above him, trying to steer with his arms,
looking generally uncomfortable. Biggest panel on the page.


        CAP: …but don‟t eat concrete.
        CAP: ~ from Brick’s Guide to DiveBombing (Self published)

3] Inset near first caption: the parachutist breaks his leg; a terrible landing with all of his
weight coming down on one knee. In the frozen instant of the injury, he screams as his
leg bends unnaturally sideways and the open chute flaps uselessly behind him.

        NO COPY
4] Enthusiastic high five between Ups and wingman; both men are flushed from
excitement and wide-eyed. Klutz is besides them, hunching with his hands on his knees
and fighting for breath. His head is turned to join the conversation.

       Wing: You break your toes, son?
       Ups: Just about…but I think I saw AirForce actually break something back there.
       From Off: He‟ll live!
       2 Ups: Guess he forgot - “long drop, quick turn.” Right, Klutz?
       Klutz: If I ever said that, it was before missing a month.

4a] Small inset near the happy winners: The spotter/cameraman stands over the injured
racer, smacking at the flapping parachute as if it was an insect; he touches his earpiece.

       Spotter: …gonna need an ambulance by the World Bank Building…I think this
       guy got hit by a car…

Page 4 (7 panels)
1] Another night on another rooftop – the major players from last race and a few new
guys are gathered around as Brick drops in. There is a stairwell beside the racers.

       CAP: “Aw, you just getting warmed up for next week.”

2] OTS of a crowd of racers, forming a loose half circle around Brick, who stands in the
midground, looking a little pensive, and shuffling a foot.

       Skin: Yo, you ever on time?
       Ups: We‟ve been waiting a while…Skin had to change his man-panties twice.
       Brick: Yeah, fellas, I‟m sorry about that.
       Klutz: You okay, Brick?

2] Brick opens the stairwell door, revealing “Mr. Smith” – a 35ish man with strong
features and an artificial tan. His immaculate hair is long past his ears and he wears a
dark-colored, tailored suit with no tie. He smiles like a used car salesman.
       Brick: It‟s…it‟s all good. Just had to, ah, take a meeting.
       Off: What up, Trump?
       2 Brick: Just getting caught up with my friend–
       Smith (interrupts): You boys don‟t use names, right?

3] Smith looks up at Ups, who floats a few feet off the ground and puffs up his chest
slightly. Smith smiles confidently as he cranes his head back. Klutz and a few extras
hover in the background; crossed arms and tough guy looks directed at the interloper.
They want to intimidate him, but Smith seems oblivious.

       Ups: Right.
       Smith: So call me Mister Smith.
       2 Ups: “Mister?”
       2 Smith: Smith, right.
       3 Ups: Ain‟t quite dressed for racing, Mister.
       3 Smith: Didn‟t plan on it…don‟t have the, ah, gift myself.


4] Brick lays his arm across Ups‟ shoulder, leading him away from Smith, who keeps the
plastic smile on in the background.

       Brick: Mr. Smith is what you might call an interested party.
       Ups (small): Brick, man, we alright here?
       2 Brick: All good, kid, all good.


5] The racers jump off the roof, going left (the ledge is roughly in the middle of the panel)
jackknifing in the air as they head off panel; leaving Brick and Smith at panel right,
watching them go. Brick is stone-faced, but Smith‟s jaw drops.

       CAP: “Let‟s just get this done.”
       Smith: That‟s really something.
       Brick: Nothing compared to the finish…got your smartphone? Laser tripwire on
       the ground, first guy past it triggers a snapshot which goes to the URL I gave you.
       2 Smith: Like our own private horserace.
       2 Brick: I guess…

6] The screen of a blackberry nestled in Smith‟s manicured hand: a close finish at street
level: Klutz wins the race, streaking to the concrete as others trail a few feet behind.
       VO: The skinny kid, what‟s his name.
       2 VO: Boys call him “Klutz.”
       3 VO: Good for them.

Page 5 (6 panels)
1] Smith saunters towards the racers as they congratulate Klutz.

       CAP: “What‟s his name?”

2] Smith shakes Klutz‟s hand, and covers the grip with his other hand. Klutz opens his
mouth in surprise. Side view of both men, with the handshake in mid-panel, beneath
their expressions; Smith wears the same fake smile.

       Smith: That was damn impressive, Jason.

3] Close on Klutz‟s hand; five $100 bills, folded in half, lay stiffly in his open palm.

       Off: Keep up the good work.
       2 Off: Plenty of money in this now, boys – good news for everybody, right?

4] On the edge of a railroad trestle, the racers are in position, surrounded by a crowd of
men who are clearly not dressed for racing. Off to one side, Smith looms over Brick,
obviously lecturing the older man, whose hands are held before him in a pleading gesture.
More of Brick‟s handwritten captions.

       CAP: A few other things that don‟t exactly affect the racing but are good ideas
       anyway: first, if you‟re going to allow spectators DON‟T bring them up top.
       CAP: On the street, they can scatter – but you‟d have a hard time explaining a
       herd of A-holes standing around on the roof of a building none of them own.
5] A spectator hands a wad of cash to a skinny man in a gaudy button-down shirt. An
assistant stands next to him, writing in a pad. The assistant looks a little ridiculous,
wearing one of the forehead-mounted flashlights popular with hikers and spelunkers. It is
the only way he could see well enough to write in the dark locale. Behind them, Smith
walks alongside a much older man who puffs on a cigarette.

       Bookie #1: Eight bills on Mustang for…Mr. Rogers, was it?
       Bookie #2: That pays 4 to 1 on a straight win, 5/2 across the board.
       Smith: …well, I guess we could put them in an Exacta, but…
       Old man: But what? If I can pick the winner and runner-up with ponies, why I
       can‟t I do it with flying Puerto Ricans?

6] Klutz and Ups exchange worried, sidelong glances in the extreme foreground. They
are set to race, side by side – through the gap between them, we see the old gambler
cupping a hand to his mouth as he calls out to them.

Old Man: Hey, Batman and Robin – finish one-two and there‟s a grand in it for ya!


Page 6 (9 panels)
3x3 grid, 1-3 run down the left side, 4-6 down the middle, 7-9 down the right – our
attention is lead by arrows
1] The black silhouettes of several racers in freefall against a patch of sky showing
through the bridge‟s superstructure.

       CAP: One last thing – we‟re playing for money, of course, but if you‟re running a
       circuit, try to keep the betting reasonable.

2] A racer we haven‟t seen before closes in on Ups – reaching for his back with both
hands – intensity in his windblown face. Ups looks over his shoulder – he sees the man
coming and looks surprised. Imagine the camera is falling ahead of Ups, pointing back
up at him, so his pursuer is smaller in perspective behind him. Iron bridgework streaks
with speed behind them; behind Ups, other racers fly away from the beams, losing speed.
       CAP: You‟ve already got guys jumping off skyscrapers and bridges and
       whatnot – you don‟t want thoughts of a big payday making them (more) reckless
       on the way down.
3] The new racer‟s hand reaches in from top-panel to clutch a handful of Ups‟ shirt,
pulling it tight around his throat – causing his face to contort as he chokes.

       NO COPY

4] Ups struggles with the aggressive racer and as they strike a glancing blow against a
bridge pylon. Klutz reaches out to help, but we see an impact balloon as they bounce off
and keep falling. The aggressor thrashes and looks pretty pissed; Klutz is open-mouthed
with surprise. Behind them, other racers bank sharply to avoid the bridge‟s concrete
foundations, which taper out wider far wider than the structural steel.

       Klutz: Jesus Christ!

5] Ups the stranger wrestle as they roll in an awkward heap, dragging Klutz with them as
they slide down the sharply angled face of a bridge support.

       Ups: What the hell are you thinking?
       Racer: Thinkin’ I’d get paid, bitch!

6] Ups and Klutz angrily confront Brick, who turns his head; embarrassed. They are at
the base of the bridge, in the dust valley it was made to cross – Klutz angrily points to a
bloody gash on his forehead, obviously from the fall. Klutz grimaces as he tries to shake
the pain out of his scraped and bruised arm. Both men‟s are covered with grime and their
clothes are shredded.

       Klutz: …first, Tony Soprano tries to tell us what order to finish in – then some
       ringer I never met before just about kills both of us –
       Brick (interrupts): I know, I know….
       Ups: What do you know? What the hell is going on here?
       2 Brick: You don’t want to know.
7] The biggest field of racers yet leaps off a radio antennae, straight towards the camera –
Ups and Klutz and roughly centered.


       CAP: “Just make sure you show next week.”

8] Two new racers bang shoulders as they streak downwards; both are diving headfirst.
They eye each other intensely. Ups and Klutz are running just behind – but they have
already pulled up – so that they “stand” while the others are still headfirst.

       Klutz: Here we go again…

9] A hand reaches across panel to dig a thumb into the screaming racer‟s eye. Drops of
blood seep from the point of contact.

       Racer: AHHHH!!!!

Page 7 (6 panels)
1] Brick hunkers down heavily at a table in a dimly-lit bar where Ups and Klutz are
already sitting. They have beers in front of them and look up at Brick pensively.

       Brick: Boys.
       Klutz: Long way to go for a talk, Bricks.
       2 Brick: I hope it‟s far enough.
       2 Klutz: You‟re in some kinda trouble, right?
       3 Brick: Well…

2] Close on Ups‟ grave expression.

       Ups: Ain‟t hard to figure, with all these new heads showing up at races, and you
       rolling over for people who you wouldn‟t even talk to if things were right.
       Off: Tried not talking to them, kid.
       2 Ups: Man, I need the money, too…and I know this is the best thing either one of
       us ever fell into, but -
3] The barrel of a revolver is jammed brutally into Brick‟s clenched mouth. He sweats
profusely and his eyes are like saucers. Beefy forearm comes in from panel left, grinding
the gun against Brick‟s resistance. A flashback panel; unnaturally colored in reds and
oranges.

       CAP: “You ain‟t hearing me. There‟re no options here.”
       2 CAP: “Syndicate guys paid me a visit…called the races a „growing profit
       sector‟ and told me I was working for them now. Fed me a .38 when I argued.”
       3 CAP: “They brought in those damn ringers, and paid them enough that they‟d
       break their neck, or yours, to finish first.”

4] Ups and Klutz leave the bar through the front door – their heads hang, looking
defeated under the light of a neon sign that reads “The Drop Inn.”

       CAP: “If you gonna keep racing, I‟d say you best, ah, reconcile yourselves to the
       new reality.”
       Klutz: Figure you‟re done?
       Ups: I guess so. You?

5] Klutz lounges on a ratty sofa in a plain but comfortable bachelor apartment. He turns
his head towards a knock at the door.
       CAP: “Yeah, I‟m done.”
       SFX (mid door): KNOCK KNOCK

6] OTS Klutz as he opens the door a crack, revealing Mr. Smith‟s smiling face and a
glimpse of a huge man looming behind him.

       Smith: Hello, Jason. Nice to see you again.
       Klutz: Is it?
       2 Smith: Sure…seeing as you missed you at the – “drop,” your friends call it -
       tonight, so we figured we‟d check on you.
       2 Klutz: We?
Page 8 (5 panels)
1] The huge man (6‟5”, shaved head, and fat over muscle) pushes the door open with one
thick arm. Klutz steps back as Smith sidles in under the “bridge.”

       Smith: Oh, “we” for sure. Jan here is a huge fan of yours.
       2 Smith: In fact, he was all set to make a wager on you tonight, because he‟s so
       confident in your abilities, right?

2] OTS Klutz as the two gangsters step too close – now inside the apartment. The skinny
racer is directly in front of the goon, but only hides a slice of the man‟s huge bulk.

       Smith: So you can imagine how frustrated he was when you didn‟t give him that
       chance…

3] Klutz is dressed to race, frowning as Ups approaches from panel right. Klutz is well to
the left, standing on the edge of a rooftop, with a broad skyline behind him. Ups is
shaking his head sadly, sharing the disappointment.

       CAP: “…but he felt much better when I promised him you‟d be there next time.”
       Klutz: Have some visitors, too?
       Ups: Yeah…turns out I got fans.

4] Ups and Klutz crouch at the roof‟s edge, surveying the way down. Next to them
(behind them in our perspective) more new racers are limbering up. The nearest one to
them is fussing with his hands, as if donning a glove.

       Klutz: This is pretty effed up.
       Ups: Yeah, but I‟ve been thinking; this is all I was ever good at, and there is a ton
       of money in it now.
       2 Klutz: That money is getting expensive, Ups.
       2 Ups: Maybe so, but what are you gonna do about it?
5] Brass knuckles glint on the right hand of the nearby racer – close on him from waist to
shoulders as he clenches his fist. No view of his face.

        CAP: “I got something in mind. Will you follow my lead?”
        CAP: “This is how I pay for my kid, man.”
        CAP: “Gonna take care of her after one of these guys drops you on your head?”

Page 9 (6 panels)
1] The racers are lined up; seven or eight of them running horizontally across the panel.
Everyone looks like runners on the block, except for Klutz and Ups, who stare at his
neighbor‟s brass knuckles, more sad then scared. Brick, with a stricken look on his face,
raises a starter pistol behind them.

        CAP: “I…yeah…I got your back.”

2] Still as a statue, Klutz smiles very slightly as everyone around him reacts violently to
the shocking noise. Some racers just jump – others already run off panel. The sound
bubble fills the sky above them.

        SFX: POLICE! NOBODY MOVE!

3] Klutz is running toward Smith, who is frozen with surprise a few feet from the edge.
Ups is a few feet away, running a bit aimlessly, not sure of what to do. Uniformed police
are swarming the roof, tackling racers and bettors – some cops run up the stairwell, a few
fliers drop in.

        Klutz: Ups! On me!


4] Klutz and Ups each hook an arm under one of Smith‟s. Smith opens his mouth in an
“O” but no words come out. The group heads for the edge at top speed.

        Smith: …ahhhh…
        Klutz: Hold on tight!
5] They fall from the roof; Klutz and Ups straining to support Smith – he is too much
weight for them to fly with, but using all of their might, they can slow the descent. They
have Smith between them, each flier holding with both hands to one of his arms, like they
were team-lifting a piece of furniture. They can‟t keep themselves airborne however, so
it‟s basically a controlled fall. Smith screams a churns his legs as the two fliers turn red
and their veins stand out with effort.

          Smith: OMIGOD!!!
          Klutz: Close your mouth and brace yourself!


6] A huge backsplash of water bursts around a motion line that leads straight into dark
water.

          SFX: SPLASHHH

Page 10 (5 panels)
1] The three sodden men drag themselves out of the water onto a grimy, concrete
embankment. A bridge runs across the background, obviously spanning on of the NYC
Rivers.

          Smith: -hunnhh-
          2 Smith (small): …saved my ass…
          Klutz: Yeah, we did.
          Ups: So what happens now?

2] Cops drape yellow crime-scene tape across the roof. A sergeant talks into a radio. A
few flying officers dart around in the air directly above.

          CAP: “First, I‟m gonna kill the snitch that gave us up.”
          CAP: “Of course…can‟t let that stuff go, but what‟s up with the racing?”

3] OTS a police officer as he hovers a few feet above a rooftop, looking down into the
alley below.
       CAP: “Getting texts from every runner I got – every race in the city got hit just
       about the same time…”
       CAP: “All of „em?”
       CAP: “Yeah, 5-0 is on the roofs now – they caught up to us, you know?”

4] Wide vista of tall buildings – flying cops drift between the peaks.

       CAP: “What - like rooftop patrol?”
       CAP: “Looks like, don‟t it? Pricks are always looking for a new way to chase us,
       change the game up. I‟d a paid them off, but who do you pay to let them let you
       jump off a roof, ya know?”
       CAP: “Guess there were gonna be flying cops if there were flying crooks.”
       CAP: “Whatever. Nobody‟s gonna be dropping for a while, regardless.”
       CAP: “Cuts off my money.”
       CAP: “Yeah well, pays to be diversified, kid. I‟m done here – if the races ever
       start up again, I‟ll get in touch…and seriously, thanks again.”

5] Ups and Klutz amble down a dark street, their clothes and hair still plastered down.

       Ups: Hell of a plan, K.
       Klutz: Sorta worked, right?
       2 Ups: I don‟t think your new friend Smith is gonna shoot us, so that‟s good – but
       I‟m unemployed all of a sudden.
       2 Klutz: Well, Smith said it already…too much is changing, can‟t count on one
       thing for long.
       2 Ups: Tell it to a cop who just got assigned to a roof.
       3 Klutz: Hell, man, he already knows.

				
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