DEMOLITION MAN
Participating Writers:
Peter Lenkov
Robert Reneau
Daniel Waters
Fred Decker
Jonathan Lemkin
Story by:
Peter Lenkov
Daniel Waters
Screenplay by:
Daniel Waters
Jonathan Lemkin
SILVER PICTURES
November 19, 1992
c 1992
[NOTE: THE FOLLOWING SCREENPLAY HAD NUMBERED SCENES.
THESE HAVE BEEN OMITTED FOR THIS SOFT COPY.]
"The world of the future will
be an ever more demanding
struggle against the limitations
of our intelligence..."
Norbert Wiener
"On the whole, I'd rather be in
Philadelphia..."
W.C. Fields
DEMOLITION MAN
FADE IN:
EXT. BLACK SKY - NIGHT
Dark, ominous clouds of smoke. A beat of semi-calm.
And then... A long blast of TRACER FIRE cuts through.
And another. And another. We TILT DOWN to discover we
are --
EXT. LOS ANGELES - AIRBORNE - MOVING - NIGHT (1998)
A city on fire. A block here, block there. More TRACER
FIRE. A cross between the LA riots and Gulf War. A
SUPERED TITLE: LA RIOT III. And then FADING IN BELOW:
MONTH 4. We CONTINUE MOVING ABOVE the ravaged city --
VOICE #1 (V.O.)
(filtered)
You imagine what it was like when
they had to fly choppers through
this shit?
VOICE #2 (V.O.)
Not even.
Gliding totally silently INTO FRAME is the biggest,
darkest, midnight blue blimp you've ever seen. Small
gold letters on the side -- LAPD. Fully armored beneath.
Woven kevlar on the sides. BULLETS REBOUND with a long
ZZZZZIP off the sides. PING SOFTLY off the plastic armor
on the bottom.
VOICE #1 (V.O.)
I don't understand where we're
going and why the hell we're
bothering anyhow...
A new voice responds. This one brooks no discussion --
SPARTAN (V.O.)
Because there's anger and there's
frustration, and then there's pure
fucking evil...
INT. BLIMP POD - CONTINUOUS ACTION - NIGHT
JOHN SPARTAN peers down into the fiery landscape.
SPARTAN
Where we're going is pure fucking
evil.
(beat)
Thirty people who were riding that
muni bus are still missing. I've
got this bad hunch about who took
them and where they are...
EXT. EXTREME SOUTH CENTRAL LA - FROM ABOVE - AIRBORNE -
NIGHT
Way up ahead, amid the flames, is a fortress. A square
city block. Walled. Something out of the middle ages.
The walls are entirely made from stacked abandoned cars.
INT. BLIMP POD - NIGHT
Spartan is dragging a heavy bag up towards the door.
PILOT #2 looks at him curiously.
PILOT #2
How come they call you Demolition
Man? Are you with the bomb squad?
Spartan gets his bag into position.
SPARTAN
I just...
(shrugs
apologetically)
... demolish things.
He checks out the window. They're not quite there.
SPARTAN
I do my job, shit happens.
(to Pilot #1)
Get a thermo.
The PILOT takes a thermogram of the building in the
middle of the compound. We see a series of heat-outlined
figures moving inside.
PILOT #1
Six. One still, in the middle.
The rest moving around. I don't
see any thirty people.
SPARTAN
(checking the thermo)
What's that?
To the naked eye, out the window, tucked against the
wall of cars, a large tarp. To the thermo, the still
warm inner workings of the muni bus. Faint outlines of
the engine, drive train, even seats and frame. Bingo.
Spartan takes a deep breath. Loosens up his right
shoulder. Loosens up his left. Checks the gun on his
right hip. Checks the gun on his left. They both cross
draw. Reaches down to the bag at his feet. LAPD in
reflective letters on the side of a backpack. Spartan
yanks some kind of rope out of it.
PILOT #2
Isn't that for getting people out
of burning buildings...
SPARTAN
Yeah, sometimes...
Slaps a carabiner onto a big eyebolt by the door. They're
dead center now over the complex below. He opens the
door. Jumps out.
EXT. BLIMP - NIGHT
Spartan falls three hundred feet from the blimp. Dead
silent. The line runs free behind him. It's a giant
fireproof bungee cord. As the downward force of gravity
and the upward pull of the bungee become exactly the
same, Spartan stops dead in the air for just the briefest
moment. Whips out a Bowie knife and slashes the cord
above his head. Falls free the last ten feet to the roof
of the building. Lands on his feet. Lightning cross
draw. A gun appears in each hand.
EXT. FORTRESS - MAIN BUILDING - ROOFTOP - NIGHT
A lookout pops up on Spartan's right. Spartan clobbers
him. Another lookout pops up on Spartan's left. Spartan
ducks, rolls quietly, clobbers him, too. Listens. No
one's taken notice. Holsters the guns. Moves in towards
the roof hatch.
INT. FORTRESS - MAIN BUILDING - THIRD FLOOR - NIGHT
Stacked with armaments and stolen goods. M70's straight
outta the National Guard Armory. Crates of ammo. Stacks
of looted Sony HoloSets still in the boxes.
Spartan makes his way carefully along. Ready. Spins at
a SOUND. Nothing there. Spartan crouches low. Slips
around the crates. At the far end, a very large guard
is doing just the same thing to peer at where Spartan
just was.
Spartan launches himself at the guard. Hammers his head
against the floor. This guy is not getting up again for
a long time. Spartan spins at a SOUND. Another equally
large guard dives on Spartan from behind. He never makes
contact. Spartan uses his momentum to fling him past and
into the wall. This guy isn't getting up again in the
near future either. Now the room is clear. Moves
towards the stairs.
INT. FORTRESS - MAIN BUILDING - SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT
SIMON PHOENIX snorts a long pale blue line up one
nostril. A long pink line up the other. One blue eye,
one brown eye. Blond hair. Black skin. Looks up at
another thug. Punches up the security cams on half a
dozen slightly futuristic monitors. Unconscious guards
can be seen on all of them. And on the last, Spartan,
coming... Phoenix jabs a loaded orange syringe into an
arm. The drugs all hit various lobes.
PHOENIX
Motherfucker.
INT. FORTRESS - MAIN BUILDING - STAIRWELL - NIGHT
Spartan creeps quietly down. Looking, watching,
listening. Suddenly, the stairs are racked with MACHINE
GUN FIRE. Chips of concrete fly from around his feet.
Spartan flattens against the wall. Half a beat. Steps
out FIRING. The machine gun stops. A body plummets by
down the center shaft of the stairs.
SPARTAN
That's a warm welcome.
INT. FORTRESS - MAIN BUILDING - SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT
Phoenix is dumping can after can of gas all over the
floor, the walls, everything.
ANOTHER ANGLE - STAIRWELL AND LANDING
Spartan steps onto the landing. Checks high and low.
Room is clear. He can smell the gas.
BACK TO PHOENIX
Simon pries open the fuse box. Flips off all the
breakers. Building is plunged into darkness.
BACK TO SPARTAN
Spartan quietly speaks into the LAPD button mike on his
lapel.
SPARTAN
How 'bout some light, guys?
Half a beat later, blinding white light blows through
the windows.
EXT. FORTRESS - FROM ABOVE - NIGHT
The blimp casts down a wall of light. 32 million
candlepower pours straight down.
INT. FORTRESS - MAIN BUILDING - SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT
A wild melange of white, white light and dark, dark
shadows. The gas fumes ripple, refract in the air.
Lights bounce off the pools of gasoline. Spartan rolls
into the room. Both guns come up.
SPARTAN
Simon Phoenix. You're under
arrest.
(then)
Where are the muni passengers?
PHOENIX
Fuck you, Spartan. They're gone.
I told the city no one comes down
here anymore. Cops figured it
out, postmen figured it out. Damn
bus drivers wouldn't listen.
Arrest me? You've got no
jurisdiction here. You're in my
kingdom now. Fifty blocks in
every direction. And it's mine.
SPARTAN
(simply)
It's over.
PHOENIX
It's over?!
(knows it's true)
Yeah. It's over. But I've been
king once, and I ain't ever going
back to jail.
Spartan keeps the guns trained on Phoenix. Simon
scratches his arm. It's a junkie's twitch. Or is it...
Spartan can't see it, but there's a kitchen match tucked
behind Simon's ear. Phoenix reaches up to scratch
another itch. Frees the match in one gestures, strikes
it and tosses it into the pool of gas. Smiles. A
friendly happy smile.
The room bursts into flames. He throws back his head and
laughs. Spartan dives on him. Tries to hurl them both
through the window.
But Phoenix is either stronger or just far crazier and
drugged up. Smashes the two of them into the wall
instead. They trade blows. The building gets worse.
AMMO starts to EXPLODE downstairs.
EXT. FORTRESS - MAIN YARD - NIGHT
A giant LAPD wrecker with a cow catcher front blasts
through the main gates. LAPD Humvees follow.
A young cop (ZACHARY LAMB) gets out, looks at the main
building, shakes his head in amusement at the
destruction --
LAMB
It's Spartan again...
INT. FORTRESS - MAIN BUILDING - SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT
The battle continues. The two trading blow for blow in
this fiery arena. The two men are practically on fire.
Finally Spartan knocks Phoenix cold, a clean shot
straight in the face. Phoenix drops in a heap to the
floor. Spartan shakes his head, sighs, bends down to
retrieve his prisoner and...
INT./EXT. FORTRESS - MAIN BUILDING - NIGHT
The BUILDING EXPLODES. Long and LOUD and high and
mighty.
OVERHEAD POV
The fireball rockets by the blimp.
INT. BLIMP - POD - NIGHT
The Pilots with mouths agape as the fireball crashes by.
EXT. FORTRESS - MAIN YARD - NIGHT
The EARTH RUMBLES. Those who aren't thrown to the
ground dive for cover. The SECONDARY EXPLOSION kicks
in. Everything that didn't blow straight up in the air
blows out what remains of the sides of the building.
Nothing's left standing.
EXT. FORTRESS - MAIN YARD - NIGHT (AFTERMATH)
The dust begins to settle. Flaming wreckage and embers
are still dropping from five hundred feet up. A beat. A
beam shifts in the wreckage. It's a big beam. It moves
aside. Spartan emerges dragging his prisoner out behind
him. As he's being dragged along, Phoenix comes to.
Spartan hands him off to another officer to be booked.
Captain STEVE HEALY, Spartan's long-suffering captain and
friend, comes out of the crowd of officers.
HEALY
What's the matter with you?
That's why nobody ever invites
you over.
SPARTAN
I hate small talk. You sent me to
do a job, I did it. It wasn't even
me who blew everything up this time.
HEALY
Yeah. Sure.
Healy continues to shake his head in consternation. No
way he believes that... Spartan ignores him. Wipes the
soot from his face. Shakes his head in disgust, walks
away...
The Tactical Fire Response vehicles have arrived. Fully-
armored firemen wearing bulletproof gear fight the blaze.
Spartan continues to stride away. And then everything
fucks up. One of the TFR OFFICERS in the wreckage calls
out --
TFR OFFICER
Captain. Captain!
(shocked)
There's a lot of bodies in here.
Spartan stops dead. He looks sick. Healy's not
thrilled, but he knows what's required of him --
HEALY
(to Spartan)
You have the right to remain
silent.
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. CRYO PRISON - STARK WHITE CORRIDOR - DAY
Spartan in stark white overalls. A beautiful, shaken
woman holding the hand of a small child. About six.
Spartan bends down to the little girl. Unclenches his
fist. His LAPD badge inside. Pins it on the little
girl, KATIE.
SPARTAN
I'm going to be back. I'll still
be your dad. I promise.
She holds the badge, nods solemnly. Spartan kisses her
on the cheek.
KATIE SPARTAN
I love you, Daddy.
She's young enough that it's unclear whether she
understands that her father is going away for good.
Spartan chokes back a sob. Stands back up. Kisses his
wife. Everything that can be said, has been said. They
kiss again.
Behind him, in front of two locked doors, are a pair of
prison guards in odd, heavily-insulated uniforms. Tanks,
heater batteries, guns. Spartan heads towards the far
doors. They follow. Spartan steps through the doors,
the guards now at either elbow. And into --
INT. CRYO PRISON - MAIN ROOM - DAY
The CryoPenitentiary is a Godel-esque nightmare of
architecturally-perverse layers and levels, the
Guggenheim mixed with industrial meat locker. All still
half under construction.
Spartan is led along the middle ring to where a doctor,
two white-coated technicians and a young-looking WARDEN
SMITHERS are waiting.
Above him prisoners are encased into the ground in
massive glass hockey pucks, contracted into pained fetal
positions. Their faces are hauntingly twisted into
gargoyle expressions of tortured struggle.
The group arrives at an empty chamber. The technicians
nod to Spartan. He drops off the white overalls. Steps
free. Stands naked. Doctor injects him with luminescent
blue fluid. The techies slap on sensor pads. Head,
heart, all over... Spraying him down with Freon. Mist
everywhere... We see the temperature dropping on the
monitors. The Warden looks at a crib sheet. Clears his
throat.
SMITHERS
John Spartan. You've done great
deeds for the city of Los Angeles,
so it is with some regret that I
hereby...
SPARTAN
Skip it...
Spartan shivers, contemplating one of his stiffening
hands.
SMITHERS
John Spartan. You've been
sentenced to 70 years in the
California CryoPenitentiary for
the involuntary manslaughter of
thirty...
SPARTAN
Skip it...
Spartan is beginning to shake from the cold. His lips
turning blue before our eyes. Color just drains away.
SMITHERS
I'm sorry, John.
(then; a smile)
Don't catch cold.
SPARTAN
Fuh... fuf... funny.
The technicians attempt to help Spartan into the chamber.
He shakes them off to stagger down on his own. Let's not
kid ourselves, he's scared --
SPARTAN
See ya next century...
TITLES BEGIN as...
The casing door is closed over him. MONITORS down the
lining of the circular chamber show a digital rap sheet,
a dropping thermometer, a parole date, and today's date:
November 20, 1998. A super-chilled clear goo flows in,
packing and preserving isolated Michelangeloesque
segments of the defiant statue that is John Spartan.
But he's still conscious. Still even struggling a bit.
On the arm above the chamber, inside a vacuum bell a
small vial is auto unscrewed. LOCKED and SAFETY lights
cycle. We see a tiny white chip inside. The vial is
moved into place by a tiny robot arm. Bottom vent is
opened. The chip is dumped into the chamber. It's the
opposite of watching ice shatter. Instead, the whole
hockey puck goes solid in an instant and a half. The
thermo read-out drops in an instant to a half degree
above 0 degrees Kelvin. It's done.
The VIEWER makes a GENTLY DIZZYING JOURNEY AROUND the
chamber, SETTLING FOR A MOMENT ON Spartan's contorted-
into-a-defiant-sneer face.
INT. CRYO PRISON - MAIN ROOM - DAY (2042)
The VIEWER'S VIEWPOINT KEEPS PULLING OUT to see that the
date on Spartan's MONITOR now reads August 3, 2042.
Warden Smithers, now a bespectacled, gray-haired old
man, in a peculiar uniform, shuffles past the completely
unaged Spartan.
He grumbles by in a phone headset equipped with fiberoptic
video gear, and OUT OF FRAME we see that the
prison has become vaster, stranger, with multiple grated
catwalks and more networks of artfully-engineered piping.
And heavily, heavily stocked with prisoners...
Smithers looks up at his holoset. Hovering in front of
him in the air is Lenina Huxley.
HUXLEY (IMAGE)
Mellow greeting, Warden John J.
Smithers.
SMITHERS
(this again)
Yeah. BE well. Lieutenant
Lenina Huxley.
EXT. SAN ANGELES - STREETS - DAY (2042)
A 2042 police car glides INTO FRAME. We MOVE WITH it
as it passes by a series of austere geometric buildings.
Green, green glass. Blue, blue sky. Cleaner than
Disneyland. The future is perfect. More emissionless
cars gliding silently by.
HUXLEY (V.O.)
As it is a beautiful Monday
morning, and as my duty log
irrationally requires it...
INT. LENINA'S POLICE CAR - MOVING - DAY
Behind the wheel, the mischievously-beautiful LENINA
HUXLEY. A heads up display announces she is calling
Warden John J. Smithers. The order of business is
"Prison Population Informative Query." And future or
not, Lenina fusses with her hair. With both hands.
The steering wheel is not present at all.
HUXLEY
I am hereby querying you on the
prison population update.
(hopefully)
Does the tedium continue?
ON HEADS UP DISPLAY
Warden Smithers gently reminds her that ---
SMITHERS (IMAGE)
Incontrovertibly and unequivocally,
yes. The prisoners are ice cubes.
They do not move. They have no
thoughts, they have no feelings...
The tedium is permanent,
Lieutenant.
INT. CRYO-PRISON - MAIN ROOM - MID LEVEL - DAY
Smithers is striding along, the conversation projected in
the air in front of him from the HoloSet he's wearing.
HUXLEY (IMAGE)
I find this lack of stimulus truly
disappointing... Don't you think?
INT. LENINA'S POLICE CAR - DAY
Smithers peers at her almost suspiciously.
SMITHERS (IMAGE)
I try not to. However, you are
young, think all you want. Things
don't happen anymore, we've taken
care of all that. I'll fiber-op
you back after the morning non-
parole hearings. Have a peachy
day, Lieutenant. BE well...
The Warden's image poofs.
INT. CRYO-PRISON - MAIN ROOM - DAY
Tugging off his headset, Warden Smithers clacks to a
checkpoint wall at the end of the grating. Smithers
puts the back of his hand on a screen in the wall.
FEMALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
Coding accepted. Retina Confirm.
Smithers leans into a peephole.
INSIDE PEEPHOLE
A harmless red laser flickers over an EXTREME CLOSEUP of
the Warden's eye.
INT. CRYO-PRISON - CONFERENCE AREA - DAY
The wall slides open and Smithers enters into a ceiling-
less space beneath the awesome tiers of cryo-cells.
FEMALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
Thank you and be well, Warden
William Smithers.
Smithers grumbles past a barely conscious cryo-prisoner,
who is strapped atop a sleek, thin, and uncomfortable
"wheelchair." Two Guards flank the hunched over and
dripping convict as Smithers plops behind an industrial
chic table and flicks on his CompuClipboard.
SMITHERS
Twenty-nine years ago, the parole
system, as you know it, was
rendered obsolete. Federal
Statute 537-29 requires we go
through the formality of a
hearing for all prisoners
incarnated before the repeal
of the parole laws.
Cocteau Behavioral Engineering,
B.E. will continue rehabilitation
by altering your behavior through
synaptic suggestion during
cryogenic sleep. Nightie night.
Your hearing is now over. You
are to be returned to your cryo-
cell immediately... 'Mr. Horace
Bateman.' Do you understand what
I've said...
Eyes half open, the Cryo-prisoner unsuccessfully gropes
for a syllable.
SMITHERS
Guards, nod his head for him...
(yawning)
Ne-xt.
As the pathetic Cryo-prisoner is wheeled off, the
Warden's VOICE ECHOES electronically from ---
INT. CRYO-PRISON - DEFROSTING CHAMBER - DAY
-- a steel intercom box on the wall. Two Med Techs load
a still unconscious prisoner into another wheelchair. We
don't see him. Just a hint of a well muscled black arm
and a head still lolling unconscious on a shoulder, with
blond hair...
INT. LENINA'S POLICE CAR - MOVING - DAY
Huxley finishes primping. Hits a button. The dash
unfolds, a steering wheel emerges, locks into place.
Lenina calls out as she activates her badge.
HUXLEY
Huxley, Lenina. Coding on.
A serenely annoying VOICE answers her
CAR COMPUTER (V.O.)
No police presence is requested
in the city at this time. Report
to the station. Good morning,
Officer Huxley.
HUXLEY
(groans)
Ahhh...
CAR COMPUTER (V.O.)
I detect a promoted level of
stress in your tone. Would you
like me to prescribe a
foodaceutical to...
HUXLEY
No! What are you, my mother?
(then; calmer)
No. No, thank you though.
She rolls her eyes. Waits to see if it's going to scold
her again. After letting her sweat it out, the car
doesn't ---
HUXLEY
All right, I'll be reporting in...
EXT. ANOTHER SAN ANGELES STREET - DAY
Huxley's police car glides by. A beat. In front of one
perfect building is a small object the size and shape of
a COFFEE CAN. As we PUSH IN TO it, we find, it's
TICKING. We can see the escape wheel ratcheting back and
forth. It's very crude, very 1920's clockwork. Four
ink-filled quadrants on a wheel inside. The yellow
quadrant rotates into position.
A small sharp EXPLOSION. Like an ink jet, the yellow ink
is flung through a nozzle against the wall in an 8 x 20
foot swath. The red ratchets and FIRES, the blue as
well. Now we can see the graffiti bomb has screened a
message on the wall -- "Life Is Hell." The black
EXPLODES. Little Death's Heads are sprinkled around the
message. The ink jet MACHINE BLOWS itself up.
Pedestrians gather and stare at the message. Mouths
open, dumbstruck.
Two shock poles emerge from hidden panels in the side of
the building. A sheet of LIGHTNING FLASHES between
them. The message turns to ash and falls to the ground.
The poles tuck back into their boxes. A small rabbit-
sized VACUUM SWEEPER emerges, ZINGS along on its own
power and SUCKS up the ash.
EXT. A DIFFERENT SAN ANGELES STREET - DAY
Near the chaos, we discover this whole thing's been a
diversion. Up from a manhole comes a strange-looking
pipe. A crude periscope.
PERISCOPE POV
watching as a food delivery truck pulls up to a loading
dock. Food pallets are unloaded.
PAYNE (O.S.)
All right, that's it.
(beat)
Twelve hours there'll be another...
INT. SEWER TUNNEL - DAY
THOMAS PAYNE, a young wild-haired madman in some kind
of ancient mechanics coveralls watches through the
periscope.
PAYNE
... These assholes are nothing if
not predictable.
Two other equally disreputable types are with him.
SCRAPS, leftovers from the perfect world above.
SCRAP #1
(worried)
We're not ready.
PAYNE
Hey guy, it doesn't really matter
if we're ready or not anymore.
Payne's got things to do, people to see. Takes off down
the tunnel. The other two follow. As the periscope
ducks back down ---
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DAY
A pair of frosted doors reading S.A. and P.D. slide open
to the presence of Lenina Huxley. She enters into a
police station not of typically bustling pandemonium, but
shocking, softly lit tranquility. Multi-ethnic officers
of all shapes and sizes murmur about, monitoring screens
with the casualness of the staff at a new age bookstore.
No rush, no worries... Lenina strides past an impossible
PERKY DISPATCHER chirping into a high tech headset.
PERKY DISPATCHER
Greetings and salutations,
welcome to the emergency line of
the San Angeles Police
Department. How are you?
A TOUGH looking COP, sipping a vibrant green juice,
sidles up to Lenina. They exchange a non-touching
"handshake" that has them each making a circle with
their open palms.
HUXLEY
Let me guess, all is serene.
TOUGH COP
(with true shock)
There was a defacement of public
buildings. Walls smudged.
HUXLEY
(shocked as well)
Really? Brutal. Why wasn't an
all cars notified?
She's cut off by her by-the-book superior, CHIEF GEORGE
EARLE.
CHIEF EARLE
Because there was no need to
create widespread panic.
(then)
Lieutenant Huxley, I monitored
your disheartening and distressing
comments to the warden this
morning. Do you actually long
for chaos and disharmony? Your
fascination with the vulgar
Twentieth Century seems to be
affecting your better judgement.
You realize you're setting a bad
example for other officers and
sworn personnel...
HUXLEY
Thank you for the attitude
readjustment, Chief Earle. Info
assimilated.
Lenina turns and walks through her open office door,
making a face out of sight and ---
INT. LENINA'S OFFICE - DAY
-- curses almost silently under her breath as she
enters...
HUXLEY
Sanctimonious asshole.
A MORALITY BOX on the wall picks it up.
MORALITY BOX (V.O.)
Lenina Huxley, you are fined one
half credit for a sotto voce
violation of the verbal morality
statute.
Lettering appears on the face of what appears to be a
block of solid marble. A thin sheaf of paper slides
off the front with the reprimand.
The contrast between everything we have seen so far and
her office is staggering. Her quarters are filled with
framed and faded nostalgia pieces of the 20th Century.
Posters of violent movies, books, magazine covers, ad
signs, artworks and framed newspapers, all of a dark
nature. A hopelessly sweet officer, ALFREDO GARCIA,
sits in the middle of the room shaking his head...
GARCIA
Whew... That was tense.
Lenina gives him a deadpan glare:
HUXLEY
That was tense?? Tell me
something, Garcia, don't you get
bored codetracing perps who break
curfew and tell dirty jokes?
GARCIA
Actually, I find my job deeply
fulfilling.
(looking around)
I just cannot swallow the reality
of this office, Lenina Huxley.
You're still addicted to the 20th
Century high from its harshness,
buzzed by its brutality. Holy
smokes, is there anything in here
which doesn't violate contraband
ordinance 22?
HUXLEY
(a sweet smile)
Just you, Alfredo Garcia. Don't
you ever want something to happen?
GARCIA
Goodness. No.
HUXLEY
I knew you were going to say that.
(sighs)
What I wouldn't give for some
action.
INT. CRYO-PRISON - CONFERENCE AREA - DAY
Simon Phoenix is still fighting to shake off his
defrosted confusion. Locks eyes with the warden.
The look he gives Smithers is chilling.
SMITHERS
Mr. Phoenix, one of our first and
most illustrious members. Let's
get this one over quick...
Smithers is unsettled. Phoenix is far more awake than
the norm.
SMITHERS
Twenty-nine years ago, the parole
system...
PHOENIX
(echoic; no logic yet)
Twenty-nine years ago, the parole
system...
SMITHERS
(firmer)
... was rendered obsolete.
PHOENIX
(also firmer)
... was rendered obsolete.
SMITHERS
(sighs)
Do you have something to say in
your behalf, Mr. Simon?
(beat)
I thought not.
PHOENIX
(bemused)
Yeah. Yeah, I do.
(it puzzles him,
but...)
Teddy bear.
With a LOUD BUZZ, the electronic MANACLES around
Phoenix's arms and feet fly open. Phoenix knows a good
thing when he sees it. Immediately panthers up for a
savage kick into Guard One, doubling him over. Phoenix
tears from Guard One's holster an air-injection syringe
that is filled with the luminescent blue liquid. He
FIRES the SYRINGE right into a charging Guard Two's
forehead. Turns and approaches slowly and menacingly
at Guard One.
GUARD #1
(just able to breathe
again)
How did you know the password to
the cuffs?
PHOENIX
(laughing with
pleasure; who cares)
I have no idea...
(then)
Simon says, too much talking from
you.
Phoenix smashes Guard One in the neck. Left handed.
Crushes his larynx. The Guard falls dying to the ground.
Smithers crawls over his table, breaks for the door.
Phoenix effortlessly latches out to his fleeing neck
and pulls him face-to-face as the Guards behind them
shiver into rigidity. Grins at him. Plucks a sharp
pen from the warden's pocket.
VIEW FROM PEEPHOLE
The harmless red laser again flickers across Warden
Smither's now bulging eyeball.
INT. CRYO-PRISON - DAY
The conference area wall slides open, revealing Simon
Phoenix, elegantly holding the warden's detached eyeball.
FEMALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
Access granted, Warden William
Smithers.
Phoenix flicks the eye away and struts forward. The wall
shuts.
FEMALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
Thank you. And BE well.
Phoenix glances at the speaker. The future is fucking
weird ---
PHOENIX
Yeah? You too.
And he's gone...
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DAY
A wall on the side of the station house suddenly becomes
translucent. A map of San Angeles filling the wall. A
small red dot blinking in the middle.
FEMALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
(serenely;
meaninglessly)
One eight seven. One eight seven.
One eight seven...
She continues to drone on in the background as the scale
of the map decreases over and over again zooming in on
the Cryo-Prison. The blinking red dot remains constant.
The Perky Dispatcher punches 1 - 8 - 7 into a keyboard.
Examines the screen. Faints dead away. Falls from her
chair. The Tough Cop rushes over. Sees the screen. He
drops his juice.
TOUGH COP
Oh my, oh my, oh my...
He's a basket case. Garcia and Lenina come into the
fray.
GARCIA
What's a one eight seven?
Lenina shrugs. She has no idea. Runs to a nearby
terminal. Punches it up.
HUXLEY
(stunned)
Murder-Death-Kill.
Punches another button. The map is replaced with an
image from the Cryo-Prison. Two dead guards. Warden
Smithers crawling painfully toward the door. It's a
brutal image.
COMPUTER (V.O.)
I show two stopped codes at
Cryo-Prison X23-1.
William Smithers, Warden. Severe
injury. Do you wish to assign a
medic?
The warden stops crawling. Collapses.
COMPUTER (V.O.)
Update: specification deceased.
Do you wish to assign a coroner?
Chief Earle arrives manfully on the scene. No idea
what's up.
CHIEF EARLE
What's the matter with all of you?
TOUGH COP
Cryo-Prison, sir... Three non-
sanctioned life terminations...
(ready to cry)
Murder-Death-Kills. Three MDKs.
Earle sinks into a chair. Cops all over the station
are in severe, gasping trauma.
EXT. CRYO-PRISON - DAY
Half in a prisoner's smock and half-dressed in salvaged
parts of the guard's uniform, Simon Phoenix strolls outside
the austere prison building, crossing an unimaginably
perfect green lawn. Before him, in a small parking
area, a DOCTOR, wearing a white coat over "stylish" duds,
opens up his sharp user-friendly sportscar with the code
on the back of his hand.
PHOENIX
Excuse me, Doctor?
DOCTOR
Yes...
PHOENIX
Open your mouth and say 'Ahhhh!'
Simon's having a good time.
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DAY
Lenina streaks past her zombie co-workers, cool under
fire, to spin the main computer screen to her.
HUXLEY
Access the Cryo-pen's morning
hearing schedule... And then give
me... wait...
A list of names flashes on the screen.
LAMB
It's Phoenix. Simon Phoenix...
A grizzled African-American veteran, ZACHARY LAMB, steps
behind Lenina, covering traumatic memories with a stoic
shudder. He points to Phoenix's name on the hearing
list.
LAMB
I knew him. We all knew him. He's
evil like you've only read about,
girl. He's...
HUXLEY
Hold that thought, Zachary Lamb.
(to computer)
Simon Phoenix's code. Now.
FEMALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
There are no specifications on
file for Simon Phoenix.
HUXLEY
L7, you're not coming down with
another virus, are you? What's
Phoenix's code!
LAMB
You don't get it, Lenina Huxley.
Phoenix isn't coded. He got
chilled back in the 20th, before
they started lojacking everybody
... I was a rookie then... He
was a big dealer. Narcotics.
Software. Wetware. Anything.
Declared his own kingdom in South
Central L.A. M.D.K.'d whatever
got in his way. In a bad time,
he was the worst.
Garcia has punched up a camera view of a prone body in
the parking area.
FEMALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
One stopped code in penitentiary
parking area. John Mostow,
doctor.
The Perky Dispatcher has come to. Begins to sob and
then to wail. Lenina can't concentrate. Gives the
Dispatcher's rolling chair a firm push, sends her
drifting away across the station.
HUXLEY
Tell me, L7...
(dramatic pause)
Is the doctor's conveyance still
in the parking zone?
FEMALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
Doctor's vehicle has been code-
fixed at the corner of Hollywood
and Vine.
HUXLEY
Glorious.
CHIEF EARLE
(recovering; back on
his feet and taking
command)
Fine work. All nearby units.
ProtecServe Hollywood and Vine.
The adrenaline in the control room surges. Tears are
being wiped away. Justice is near.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD AND VINE - DAY
Phoenix twists out of the doc's car onto a completely
unfamiliar Hollywood and Vine. The rotating and SPEAKING
STREET SIGN may say so, but nothing else is recognizable.
Brutal-killer is briefly confused-child, as Phoenix
tentatively soaks in his surroundings. A TROUBLED-LOOKING
GUY in his twenties stands before a CompuKiosk. Half
phone booth, money machine, half computer terminal...
TROUBLED-LOOKING GUY
I dunno... Lately I just don't
feel like there's anything special
about me...
MALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
You are an incredibly sensitive
man, who inspires Joy-Joy feelings
in all those around you...
Phoenix savagely pushes the Troubled Guy away. The kiosk
is an open booth with a row of large buttons, a monitor,
and a keyboard.
Phoenix curiously examines the row of buttons: Ego
Boost, Citizen Confessional, Public Psychiatrist, Atlas,
Serenity Sayings, Banking, Mail, Telephone Directory...
he's gotta know. Pushes the Ego Boost. Half a beat,
then --
MALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
(just hearty as hell)
You look great today.
Simon grins.
PHOENIX
Thanks, feel great, too...
The future just amuses the hell out of Simon. Phoenix
slams down the information button. He drops his hands
onto the keyboard and his fingers fly. His grin grows
wider and wider. His fingers stop and --
MAIL COMPUTER (V.O.)
You have reached secure mailbox
facilities for... Simon Phoenix.
Information flashes by. Thomas Payne's picture,
rotating, life history scrolling by, maps, routes, over-
head and underground plans of the city. Phoenix takes it
all in. Light speed. No problem. His fingers fly
again. The screens finally end with an image of a pis-
tol. Rotating, exploded views, metalurgy information.
Phoenix exhales a confused grin.
PHOENIX
(dry)
Wonder if I can play the accordion
now too...
MALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
Noun: Gun. Portable firearm.
This device was widely utilized
in the urban wars of the late
20th Century. Referred to as a
gun, a pistol, a piece...
PHOENIX
I don't want a history lesson,
Hal! Where are the fucking guns?!
A morality BOX attached to the kiosk BUZZES.
MORALITY BOX (V.O.)
You are fined one credit for
violation of the verbal morality
statute.
A thin sheaf of paper slides off the front with the
reprimand.
PHOENIX
Yeah? Well fuck you twice.
The BOX BUZZES TWICE to his left. Two more sheets of
paper appear.
MORALITY BOX (V.O.)
Your repeated violation of the
verbal morality statute has caused
me to notify the San Angeles
Police Department. Please remain
here for your reprimand.
Phoenix is ready to punch in the screen when two S.A.P.D.
patrol cars pull to a dramatic halt behind him.
PHOENIX
Oooh, fuckers are fast, too.
Simon beats the Morality Box to it. BUZZES at it first.
Grins. Four cops get out. Unsheathing electronic stun
batons. They switch on. Blue phosphor glow...
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DAY
Lenina and the other cops stand in front of the wall
monitor. It shows an angle of the scene from a building
corner mounted camera turret. The image pans over and
locks onto Phoenix as he stands at the information kiosk.
The police can be seen moving in. The cops in the squad
room begin cheering.
GARCIA
Chalk one up for the benevolent
ones.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD AND VINE - DAY
Another squad car pulls up behind. Two more cops emerge.
Phoenix looks casually at the six of them. The police
move forward, blue sparks now spitting from their
electrified batons. The SQUAD LEADER glances down to a
hand-held Strategic Apprehension Computer.
SQUAD LEADER
Maniac is imminent. Request
advice.
STRATEGIC APPREHENSION COMPUTER (V.O.)
With a firm tone of voice, demand
maniac lie down with hands behind
back.
SQUAD LEADER
Simon Phoenix, lie down and put
your hands behind your back.
Phoenix lets off a laugh.
PHOENIX
Geez gosh. Six of you. In such
tidy uniforms. I'm so scared.
The cops look puzzled.
PHOENIX
Don't they have irony anymore?
Phoenix turns back to the terminal. His fingers fly.
Under which --
SQUAD LEADER
(hurt)
Maniac scoffs at us.
S.A.C. (V.O.)
Approach, and in an even firmer
tone of voice...
Phoenix finishes a final keystroke. The graffiti remov-
ing shock poles burst from the building beside them.
Fires. Electrocutes and cooks one of the cops.
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DAY
The cops are stunned.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD AND VINE - DAY
The nearest cops approach with their stun batons. Simon
kills them both. It doesn't take long. He breaks a
neck, he spearhands a sternum, drives a jawbone into a
skull. It's all very graceful. Death ballet.
PHOENIX
Sarcasm?
(turns to two
terrified cops)
Will you be staying to die, or
running away in fear?
They turn and run away. Simon leaps over the squad car.
Now he's in front of them. They freeze.
PHOENIX
Ahhh, I didn't say running away
would help.
Catches up with the two of them. Kills them both.
Effortlessly. Just for variety uses a different style
of martial arts this time. Two more are left. They're
frozen. Deer in the headlights.
PHOENIX
Simon says scream.
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DAY
The cops watch in horror as the last two go down.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD AND VINE - DAY
Simon spots the SecurityCam. Comes towards it with a
leer.
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DAY
Despite the electronic distance, cops recoil in fear.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD AND VINE - DAY
Simon rips the cover plate from the camera stanchion.
Yanks out the transmission cables. Looks directly into
the camera. He's having a very good time.
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DAY
On the giant monitor Simon glares at them
PHOENIX (V.O.)
Everybody stand!
Half the cops in confusion and fear do.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD AND VINE - DAY
Simon looks straight at the camera.
PHOENIX
(singing)
... and the home of the...
(holds the note for
all it's worth)
... brave.
Jams the spark wand in the main transmission cables.
Sign off.
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DAY
Every MONITOR in the station blows to STATIC. Huxley's
fingers fly.
HUXLEY
We've lost every camera for six
blocks around.
(thinking fast)
Going to Cahuenga at twelve
hundred millimeters.
On the big screen -- Cahuenga Security Cam POV. When the
zoom starts, we can't even see Simon, when it ends, we
can see him highly compressed by one of the squad cars.
Under the hood. Jamming the stun baton around.
GARCIA
He's going for the vehicle battery
core. Its capacitance gel.
TOUGH COP
Why's he doing that?
Simon finds what he's looking for. He backs off. The
CAR EXPLODES. Smoke everywhere. It clears. No Simon.
Dead silence in the station. The car still burns
silently on the giant screen. Lenina punches it off.
EXT. COCTEAU COMPLEX - DAY
A tall, silver needle rising from a plaza complex.
INT. COCTEAU COMPLEX - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
DR. RAYMOND COCTEAU lectures at the end of a conference
table. We don't see who he's talking to. He has that
weird serenity of the obscenely-wealthy or a President-
Elect-far-life.
COCTEAU
The problem is not the defacement
of public buildings.
(turning to someone
else)
The problem is not the noise
pollution of the exploding
devices.
(turning to yet
another)
The problem is that these
hooligans who have left the
comfort of our society feel a
need to spew hostility at the
bosom they have relinquished.
We REVERSE to see, instead of chairs with people in them,
the table is surrounded by HDTV video monitors on
swiveling mounts. Each screen has the face of a San
Angeles department head and his/her sphere of responsi-
bility: PublicWorks, Orderly Conduct, Public Dietary
Concerns, Litter... Twelve swiveling video heads, all
watching and listening.
PUBLICWORKS (IMAGE)
Yes, indeed.
The other video heads turn and nod in agreement.
COCTEAU
And mar they may, these halfdozen
miscreants infecting the
public consciousness with their
bile and venom. And while I am
saddened, truly saddened, they
have left, we cannot allow them
to impair the harmony of San
Angeles. They are but vandals
and Visigoths.
(then)
Forty-four years ago when Los
Angeles exploded in violenceAnger,
violenceHatred and violenceFear,
a disease had erupted... A disease
not socio-economic, but behavioral.
People had simply forgotten how
to behave... We cannot allow it
again. That time, politics, law,
even force were useless to affect
change... We have triumphed over
all of that.
The same principles of B.E.,
Behavioral Engineering, I have
applied to cryo-prison were
expanded into the design and
execution of what we now call...
(gestures proudly)
San Angeles, a city as fine as any
one of the holding facilities
I've designed. We have a
peacefulSafe, and above all,
happyhappy population.
The VIDEOHEADS nod and MUTTER their approval.
COCTEAU
Even now I am positioning actions,
postulating proceedings. I expect
your trustConfidence and certitude.
LITTER (IMAGE)
As always Mayor/Gov Raymond Cocteau.
Cocteau's assistant, ASSOCIATE BOB, comes in the room.
Gives Cocteau a significant look.
COCTEAU
(to the VideoHeads)
If you will excuse me.
He waves dismissively at the MONITORS. The SOUND MUTES.
The video freezes. Bob is a large man with an oddly
high-pitched voice and a strangely-officious manner.
ASSOCIATE BOB
Mayor/Gov Raymond Cocteau, a
cryocon has effected self-release
from the penitentiary.
(shaken)
It is quite horrific. Murder-
Death-Kills. All categories of
chaos...
Bob shudders.
COCTEAU
Enhance your calm... Enhance your
calm.
Cocteau gestures to the frozen video heads.
COCTEAU
Be well them for me. Get Captain
Earle on the Holo.
CUT TO:
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN ROOM - DAY
Earle nods and shudders in front of the shimmering image
of Raymond Cocteau. He's really shook.
EARLE
It was just... I mean it was so...
INT. COCTEAU COMPLEX - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
Earle's image appears on all the VideoHeads.
COCTEAU
I want you to do everything in
your power to get this madman.
Cocteau clicks off the Holo. Rolls his eyes. As if
the cops have a chance against Phoenix...
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN ROOM - DAY
Earle nods. He has no idea what that might entail. He
looks really ill.
EARLE
BE well.
Silence reigns. No one knows what to say. Lenina has
her head in her hands in shock.
EARLE
(aghast)
He M.D.K.'ed everyone in a six
man squad. With a Strategic
Apprehension Computer. Destroyed
an official government vehicle.
'Everything in our power,' what
else is there?
Nobody has a clue what to do. Lenina looks up. An idea
forming --
HUXLEY
Zachary Lamb. How did they
apprehend this fiendish Simon
Phoenix back in the 20th?
LAMB
Twelve-state manhunt... Satellite
surveillance... A video-bite on
'Unsolved Mysteries'... None of
it worked. In the end, it took
one man. One cop. John Spartan.
Lenina looks at him with a pleased and spooky smile.
INT. POLICE STATION - LENINA'S OFFICE - DAY
Garcia, Earle, and Lamb are huddled before Lenina's
console.
ON SCREEN
Shot after shot of Spartan emerging from the wreckage of
destroyed buildings dragging his prisoners behind him.
Everytime: Wreckage, Spartan, Prisoner. Wreckage,
Spartan, Prisoner.
GARCIA
Are you sure this is real life?
HUXLEY
Barely. Spartan's a legend. I
did an historical study on him
last year, which I guess none of
you swallowed. One thousand arrests
in three years. All real criminals.
LAMB
There was a lot more business
back then.
MORE WRECKAGE
This time Spartan is marching away from a flaming, over-
turned police car, carrying a young girl. A TV camera
crew scrambles up.
FEMALE REPORTER (IMAGE)
How do you reconcile the fact you
destroyed a three million dollar
mini-mall to rescue a girl whose
ransom was only 10,000...
LITTLE GIRL (IMAGE)
Fuck you, lady!
SPARTAN (IMAGE)
Good answer.
LENINA
smiles at the screen --
EARLE
This is a recommendation? Your
'Demolition man's' an animal, a
muscle-bound grotesque who...
HUXLEY
He is clearly the man for such a
job as this. You could reinstate
him. He hasn't worn a shield in
over forty years. Or much else,
for that matter.
GARCIA
He must be seventy years old by
now.
A smile slowly unfolds on her face. Lamb knows where
she's going as we...
CUT TO:
INT. CRYO-PRISON - MAIN ROOM - DAY
ON a Status panel: Cellular activity: Null. Tempera-
ture: .5 degree K. Lights begin to cycle. A SERVO
WHINES. The CAMERA MOVES TO the chamber as the autolock
begins to unwind. Unlock. The arm moves aside. The
frozen puck rises from its chamber. Spartan hasn't
moved, blinked in 40 years.
Two Techs in insulated suits and gloves stand on either
side. Both wear tiny flip-up welding goggles. The
first, takes out a Durameter. Tests the puck. Harder
than steel, a little less than a diamond.
Tech #2, holds a handheld Magnesium Thermite Laser.
About the size of a skill saw. For the first time we
notice there are six small raised half domes on top of
the puck. Indices. Drops the guide ring at the end of
the MTL over an index. Flips down his goggles.
Fires the MTL. The entire puck lights up white white.
We almost get the feeling Spartan can sense what's
going on. A burst of energy melts a small hole in side
of puck. We STAY ON Spartan.
WIDE AGAIN
Tech #1 drives over a crane with a six-clawed arm.
Like a standing forklift. Or a gladiator... the
fingers drop into the laser cut holes. They raise
the puck. Carry it away.
INT. CRYO-PRISON - DEFROSTING CHAMBER - DAY
The puck sits on a stainless steel podium. Completely
alone in a round stainless steel room.
Three MTL lasers begin to pulsate madly. One from above
cutting in, spiraling in towards Spartan. The others top
and bottom shaving an eighth of an inch in a tenth of a
second with each pass.
The puck shrinks away, the beams grow closer and closer
to Spartan. Just before they would hit him, the beams
turn blue. Steam bursts from the puck. Fills the air.
Obscures everything. The lasers stop. Darkness.
The entire chamber splits open. A room within a room.
Spartan rolls over limp and supple collapsing, onto his
back. Med Techs rush in.
INT. CRYO-PRISON - CONFERENCE AREA - DAY
Lenina, Garcia, and Earle are standing at one end of a
long table. Gaping. Spartan sits slumped at the other
end of the table. Draped in a grey industrial jumpsuit.
Still half comatose.
Earle is shaking his head. He can't believe he agreed to
this.
HUXLEY
This is within the power of the
police charter, sir. He can be
released on limited parole and
reinstated to active duty.
GARCIA
It's not enough to collect the
90's. You have to bring them
back to life...
HUXLEY
Cocteau said everything in our
power. I still can't think of
a better idea.
EARLE
That still doesn't mean it's a
good one.
They all watch warily. Spartan comes to with a start.
Looks up at them. Looks around quickly for any immediate
threat. Sees none. Tries to stand. Can't yet.
SPARTAN
(pointing at Garcia,
the nearest;
rasping)
You...
A gulping Garcia creeps to Spartan. Spartan claws out,
ripping Garcia down to rasp...
SPARTAN
Where am I?
GARCIA
Uh, I, uh...
Spartan pushes Garcia away.
SPARTAN
When am I?
GARCIA
Uh, it's Thursday. Tomorrow's
Arbor day.
(beat)
And last week you turned eighty-
four years old. Happy Birthday.
Huxley comes over. Clear and concisely...
HUXLEY
Detective, I'm Lieutenant Huxley.
The year is 2042. Now the reason
you've been released...
SPARTAN
(shaking it off)
How long have I been under?
HUXLEY
Forty-four years.
Whoa...
SPARTAN
(trying to focus)
I had a wife... What happened to
my wife?
HUXLEY
Your wife's light was extinguished
in the Big One of 2010.
(off his confused
look)
Uh, she died. In an earthquake.
The earthquake.
This takes a moment to sink in. Then, defrosting,
haltingly...
SPARTAN
My wife and I, we had a girl. A
daughter. I made a promise.
What...
EARLE
John Spartan, I am Chief of
Police George Earle. We did not
thaw you for a family reunion. It
is fortunate the lieutenant even
did a probe on your wife. This
is about you and a Mr. Phoenix.
A Mr. Simon Phoenix.
SPARTAN
(fully awake)
What?
Huxley steps in.
HUXLEY
This morning Phoenix escaped from
this cryo facility. We've had
nine murder death kills so far.
We have become a society of peace,
loving and understanding. And we
are, quite frankly, not equipped
to deal with this situation.
He looks at her like she's nuts.
GARCIA
There have been no deaths of
unnatural causes in San Angeles
in the last sixteen years.
SPARTAN
Where???
HUXLEY
The Santa Barbara, Los Angeles,
San Diego metroplex merged in
2011. You are in the center of
what used to be Los Angeles.
He gets up. He's way stiff.
SPARTAN
Great. Just great.
(then)
God, I'm so hungry. I'd kill for
a burrito.
They back off in fear.
SPARTAN
It's just an expression.
Spartan creaks his head toward Garcia, spooking him back
away. Spartan vigorously scratches his hand as he
speaks.
SPARTAN
Just get me some Marlboros.
GARCIA
Of course. Right away. What
are...
SPARTAN
A cigarette.
(relinquishes his
brand loyalty)
Just get me any cigarette.
HUXLEY
Cigarettes are not good for you
and it has been deemed that
everything that is not good for
you is bad. Hence... illegal.
Alcohol, caffeine, contact sports,
meat...
SPARTAN
Are you shittin' me?
MORALITY BOX (V.O.)
John Spartan, you are fined one
credit for a violation of verbal
morality statute 113.
Spartan looks at it in amazement.
SPARTAN
What the fuck is that?
MORALITY BOX (V.O.)
John Spartan, you are fined one
credit for a violation of...
HUXLEY
(as I was saying)
Bad language, chocolate, gasoline,
uneducational toys, and anything
spicy. Abortion's also illegal,
but then again so's pregnancy if
you don't have a license.
EARLE
Caveman, let us finish all the
Rip Van Winkle and get moving.
A Mr. Phoenix has risen from the
ashes.
SPARTAN
Uh-uh. I tracked that dirtbag
for two years, and when I finally
brought him down, they turned me
into an ice cube for my trouble.
Thanks, but no thanks.
EARLE
The conditions of your parole
are full reinstatement into the
S.A.P.D. and immediate assignment
to the apprehension of Simon
Phoenix, or you can go back into
cryo-stasis.
(then; more softly)
Not many people get a second
chance, John Spartan.
Spartan remembers. The freezer was bad, way bad. He
swallows hard and --
EXT. CRYO-PRISON - DAY
Huxley and Garcia are waiting by the police car out
front. Half a beat, John Spartan, now completely done
up in a 2042 cop uniform comes out. He feels like a
buffoon.
SPARTAN
What am I supposed to be, a drum
major? This isn't a cop uniform.
Am I gonna lead the Rose Bowl
parade? What is all this stuff?
HUXLEY
Direct biolink readouts for vitals,
VOX radio connect, base and inter
officer coded by rank, partner
status and case priority. And
that's the pocket for your whistle.
SPARTAN
(God save me)
Great, in case one of the floats
gets loose I can direct traffic.
EXT. ANOTHER SAN ANGELES CITY STREET / INT. POLICE
CAR - DAY
Spartan is stuffed into the back seat of Lenina's police
car. Absently scratching the back of his hand, Spartan
stares out his window in amazement at the shiny, happy
people in the happy shiny city. Meanwhile, Lenina and
Garcia are staring through a rearview screen at Spartan
with equal amazement.
GARCIA
This all probably seems quasi-
strange to you.
SPARTAN
Quasi-strange? This isn't my
city. How do you expect me to
protect it? I don't get you
people, let alone like you much...
HUXLEY
You come from a society in which
the average l8-year-old has
witnessed 200,000 acts of
simulated violence. In our
society the number is closer to
four. If someone off the street
was to watch the Three Stooge Men
and see the Moe-person hammer the
Curly-person, they would weep,
John Spartan, weep.
Spartan looks at her. What was that?
HUXLEY
Myself, I'm a bit of an afficanado
of the shocking, real and fiction.
In fact, I perused many a News
Disk of you. That time you wow-
fully tractor-pulled the Santa
Monica pier into a heap of rubble
in order to snare that team of hit
men who...
She trails off, as she sees Spartan staring out the
window shaking his head, very much alienated from every-
thing around him.
HUXLEY
You seem very much alone, John
Spartan. Not everything is that
different. Perhaps you would
like to hear the oldies station.
'Oldies.'
The RADIO quickly turns ON and changes stations to:
RADIO (V.O.)
'Sometimes you feel like a nut,
sometimes you don't.
Almond Joy's got nuts, Mounds
don't.
Because sometimes you feel
like a nut, sometimes you
don't.'
GARCIA
The most popular station in town.
Nonstop wall-to-wall minitunes.
You called them commercials. Wow,
this is my fave...
RADIO (V.O.)
'Fat kids, skinny kids, kids who
climb on rocks.
Tough kids, sissy kids.'
Lenina and Garcia join in for a sing-a-long finish as
Spartan turns back to the window, eyes bulging. He
goes back to scratching his hand.
HUXLEY/GARCIA
(singing)
Even kids with chicken pox love
hot dogs, Armour hot dogs.
The dogs... kids... love... to
bite.
SPARTAN
Somebody put me back in the fridge.
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DAY
Emotions are still a little frayed at the station, but a
certain peace has returned. Lenina approaches the Tough-
looking Cop. They again exchange nontouching circular
hand spins.
HUXLEY
New inforama on Simon Phoenix?
TOUGH COP
None... So where is John Spartan?
GARCIA
He went to the bathroom... I guess
he got all thawed out.
Spartan trudges through a spooked gantlet of 2042
officers. The Tough Cop greets him, raising his hand.
TOUGH COP
Sir, I formally convey my presence.
SPARTAN
Hi.
Spartan reaches out and shakes the Tough Cop's hand.
It's like he spit on him. The Tough Cop tries not to
react, but he's clearly disgusted.
HUXLEY
We're not used to physical contact
greetings.
SPARTAN
Oh... Hey, you guys are out of
toilet paper...
GARCIA
Toilet paper?
HUXLEY
(suppressed giggle)
They used handfuls of wadded
paper, back in the 20th.
The entire station roars with laughter. Spartan stands
unamused.
SPARTAN
I'm happy you're happy but in the
place where you're supposed to
have toilet paper, you have a
little shelf with three seashells
on it.
PERKY DISPATCHER
(hysterical)
He doesn't know how to use the
three seashells!
The station roars again. Spartan shakes his head and
scratches his hand. Suddenly, the elderly Lamb comes
INTO VIEW. Spartan's mouth falls open.
SPARTAN
Zach Lamb, what happened to you?!
LAMB
I got old. It happens.
SPARTAN
(stopping, smiling)
Motherfuck. You were a snotnosed
punkass rook! Look at you.
You're fucking old!
The nearest Morality Box dutifully BUZZES.
MORALITY BOX (V.O.)
John Spartan, you are fined three
credits for a violation...
Three sheets of paper come off. Spartan looks at it.
Grins. Walks over to the machine --
SPARTAN
Shit, fuck, piss, crap, damn,
bitch, bitch, damn. Fuck.
A whole sheaf of paper peels off. Spartan gathers it up.
It wads nicely.
SPARTAN
So much for the three seashells.
I'll be right back.
INT. POLICE STATION - LENINA'S OFFICE - DAY
Spartan examines all the TechnoWonders as Lenina punches
up an illustration on the screen: a small, square micro-
chip being surgically inserted into the top of a hand.
It's tied into the veins and blood supply as well.
HUXLEY
Simon Phoenix isn't coded. An
organically bioengineered microchip
was developed that could by sewn
into the skin. Sensors all around
the city can zero in on anyone at
any time.
TOUGH COP
I can't even conceive a visual of
what you cops did before it was
developed...
SPARTAN
We worked for a living. This
fascist crap makes me wanna puke.
EARLE
What do you think you're
scratching, caveman?
You really surmise we'd let you
out without control? Your code
was implanted the second you
thawed.
Spartan seethingly contemplates his itching hand.
SPARTAN
Why didn't you just shove a leash
up my ass?!
EARLE
Dirty meat-eater! No matter how
Viking your era was, I cannot
digest how you ever wore a badge!
You're going back, John Spartan,
oh yes, you're going back.
HUXLEY
Could you two please dump some
hormones? We need every cortex we
can get in this situation.
EARLE
We don't need him. Our computer
has already examined all feasible
scenarios resulting from the
appearance of Simon Phoenix and
determined he will attempt to
start up a new drug lab and form
a crime syndicate.
FEMALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
That is correct, Chief George
Earle.
SPARTAN
I hate to interrupt you two
lovebirds, but that's fucking
stupid. You think he wants to
build a business? Phoenix is
going for a gun. Plain and
simple.
As Spartan rages, roaming around the station, Morality
boxes have heart attacks keeping up with his offenses.
SPARTAN
Phoenix is a complete meglomaniacal
fucking psychopath. And the first
thing Simon is going to want to do
is wipe the smug smiles off your
shiny faces.
He could just handshake your asses
to death, but who's got the
goddamn patience. Trust me, he's
going for a gun.
EARLE
Who cares what this primate thinks.
Resonate some understanding. The
only place a person can even view
a gun in this city, is at a...
museum!
INT. SAN ANGELES MUSEUM OF ART AND HISTORY - MAIN
HALL - DAY
The museum is located in the Cocteau complex. Phoenix
wanders through a hall arrayed with displays of various
'80s/'90s/'00s/'10s artifacts. A Girl Scout Troop (in
modernly-modulated uniforms) looking down as we realize
that large sections of the floor of the entire museum
are transparent. Below is an archeological exhibit of
a section of the old city -- parts of buildings and
streets.
MUSEUM COMPUTER BOX (V.O.)
If you care to sample what it was
like to spend a day in Los Angeles
in the Twentieth Century please
press the button.
One of the Scouts presses a large red button. HONKING
CARS, SWEARING in Spanish, GUN SHOTS, SIRENS, RAP
MUSIC... At the end of the hall, there's an arrow to
another exhibit: HALL OF VIOLENCE. Phoenix grins.
PHOENIX
Home sweet home...
As he heads down the hall --
EXT. POLICE STATION - DAY
Spartan, Lenina, and Garcia stride towards Huxley's
cruiser.
SPARTAN
It's a hunch. Trust me on this.
It's a cop thing.
(as they get into
the car)
I'm driving.
Spartan gets into the driver's side. Lenina gets in the
passenger. A beat. They both emerge.
SPARTAN
You're driving.
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DAY
Chief Earle sits before the vidphone. Sweating.
Cocteau's scary serenity stares back at him.
COCTEAU (IMAGE)
Enhance your calm, Chief.
Please, share your disquietude.
EARLE
Mayor/Gov Cocteau, we find the
branching possibility exists the
escaped cryocon, Mr. Simon Phoenix,
may be on his way to the Museum of
Art and History in your complex.
COCTEAU (IMAGE)
What permutation lead you to this
curious conclusion? Do you expect
him to be homesick?
Raymond quietly enjoys his own wit.
EARLE
No. No, sir. Do you not still
have the armory exhibit
downstairs?
OFF Cocteau's look of quiet surprise ---
INT. MUSEUM - ARMORY ROOM - DAY
The exhibit begins with the crudest weapons, cavemen with
clubs, stone axes, arrowheads, and moves up the ladder of
history toward modern day --
Western Colt revolvers, an old-time gangster Tommy gun...
In the middle of the room is a Civil War cannon. A stack
of cannonballs sits next to it.
PHOENIX
This is the future. Where are
the fucking phaser guns?
He keeps moving down the line. Past the 1940s, the
1980s, 1990s... And finally a weapon he doesn't recognize
at all. Magnetic Accelerator Gun. AcMag for short.
Phoenix grins.
Punches the glass in the exhibit. Hard. His fist
bounces off. It hurts. He looks around for something to
break it with. Nothing. Side kicks a larger expanse of
glass in front of another display. Almost breaks it.
Not quite. Growls. A MUSEUM HELPER/GUARD comes into
the room. Moves towards the annoyed Phoenix smiling
pleasantly.
MUSEUM GUARD
Mellow greetings. What seems to
be your boggle?
PHOENIX
My boggle...
(he sighs)
I'm at the top of the food chain,
ya know? And I would prefer to
use tools, not bruise up my hands
and feet. But I can't find
anything in this place. A rock,
a crowbar, any heavy object.
Tell me, whatta you weigh?
The Guard looks at him in total confusion. Phoenix grabs
him by the lapels and shot-puts him across the room into
the GLASS. This time it SHATTERS impressively.
PHOENIX
Enough...
A very mellow ALARM GOES OFF MURMURING "PLEASE EXIT" over
and over. Simon begins sorting through weapons
available. Loads a SHOTGUN from the case. Tests it by
BLOWING up another display. Works just fine. The ALARM
changes to "PLEASE EXIT RAPIDLY." It begins to annoy
him. He BLOWS the loudspeaker away. BLOWS up the AcMag
case. Grabs the gun. There doesn't seem to be any
cartridges. No way to load them either. Aims, fires.
Nothing.
PHOENIX
Motherfuck.
There's an information booth at end of the room.
Phoenix can't help himself. Presses the Ego Boost Button
again.
MUSEUM COMPUTER (V.O.)
That's a great looking shirt.
Phoenix chuckles appreciatively, presses the "?" button.
MUSEUM COMPUTER (V.O.)
Yes, Museum Patron. Have you a
query?
PHOENIX
Whatsa matter with the...
(checks the name)
Magnetic Accelerator gun?
Graphics flicker madly on the screen.
MUSEUM COMPUTER (V.O.)
The Magnetic Accelerator gun, the
last produced handheld weapon of
this millenium displaced the flow
of neutrons through a non-linear
cycloid supercooled
electromagnetic force.
PHOENIX
So... what? It needs new
batteries? What size? Who sells
batteries in the future? Is
there a battery store I can go to?
Two GUARDS appear in the doorway behind him.
GUARD #1
(tough-ish)
Excuse me, Museum Patron...
Without a second beat, Phoenix SHOTGUNS them both. In
the background we can hear the ALARM change "RUN.
RUN..."
A set of steel DOORS WHOOSH down, sealing Phoenix in.
Phoenix turns back to the computer as ---
MUSEUM COMPUTER (V.O.)
The AcMag, now reactivated,
should concurrently supercool and
achieve fission in...two point
six minutes.
PHOENIX
(looking at steel
doors)
Yeah, well, I was considering
leaving quickly and patience is
not one of my virtues.
(beat)
Who am I kidding? I don't have
any virtues.
Laughs at his own wit. Grabs a shoulder bag from a
Vietnam era GI display. Starts loading up on weapons
and ammo. Kid in a toy store. Examines, discards,
chooses... And everything is free. He turns to the
Civil War cannon. And grins...
EXT. COCTEAU COMPLEX - MUSEUM ENTRANCE - DAY
The SAPD car is parked at the curb. Doors popped open.
Museum patrons and guards flee. Spartan, followed by
Huxley and Garcia, moves against the flow.
A cylindrical metal periscope suddenly pops up from the
sidewalk. As Spartan stares down at it, the periscope
zips back down the hole.
SPARTAN
You see that?
GARCIA
What?
SPARTAN
Never mind. I give up trying to
figure this place out.
GARCIA
(holding out his
S.A.C.)
Procedure?
S.A.C. (V.O.)
Establish communication with
maniac intruder.
SPARTAN
Wrong.
(he takes the S.A.C.,
smashes it to the
ground)
Hey. Luke Skywalker. Use the
Force.
Spartan heads for the door. Garcia has a distraught
moment before following. Garcia hands Spartan a stun
baton. It SPARKS to life.
SPARTAN
What the hell's this?
GARCIA
It's a glow rod. It's what we
got.
SPARTAN
Does it work?
Spartan casually pokes out to a nearby scared guard.
The guard drops like a dead weight.
SPARTAN
Guess so.
HUXLEY
They've got him trapped in section
eight.
SPARTAN
Trapped? The Maniac Intruder?
That I doubt. Oh, would you make
sure for me that nobody else is
in the building?
HUXLEY
(understands)
Done.
(as she turns to the
guards)
I want a visual. Now. Every
corridor in the museum. I want
full sensors routed to me. And I
want it ninety seconds ago...
They start to scurry. There's a moment as he appreciates
her skill and ---
INT. MUSEUM - MAIN HALL - DAY
Now empty. Spartan strides along. Sparking bullshit
stun baton in one hand.
INT. MUSEUM - ARMORY ENTRANCE - DAY
Spartan approaches. Can see the sealed steel doors.
There's an emergency release beside them.
Checks the stun baton. Reaching for the handle when, the
DOORS EXPLODE at him. Blown aside. Fire, smoke every-
where, a battered cannonball bouncing down the hall.
Spartan hurls himself through the hole in the doors.
Takes cover behind one of the exhibits.
INT. MUSEUM - ARMORY ROOM - DAY
Phoenix stands behind the Civil War cannon.
PHOENIX
(amusing himself once
again)
What can I say, I'm a blast from
the past.
He looks like a mad bandito. Draped in guns and ammo.
SPARTAN (O.S.)
Simon Phoenix. L.A.P.D., I mean
San Angeles P.D. You're under
arrest.
Where's the voice come from? Why does it sound so
familiar?
PHOENIX
Nah. I don't think so.
Simon unleashes a BARRAGE from a TOMMY GUN draped around
his neck. Keeps FIRING and FIRING and FIRING. Empties
it. Not a very strategic move as he demolishes most of
the cases in the room, including the one directly over
Spartan.
A Beretta falls at his feet. An old police belt as well.
Spartan yanks out the magazine. Loads it. Collapses the
bullshit stun baton and tucks it away.
SPARTAN
Hands up or I'll shoot, Simon.
(beat; to himself)
Fuck it.
Spartan comes up FIRING. Gets off about THREE SHOTS
before Phoenix STRAFES the area with a HK91. Dives for
cover.
PHOENIX
You were saying...
(recognition jolt)
Spartan! John Spartan! What's a
guy like you doing in a century
like this?
SPARTAN
My job.
PHOENIX
Who cares? Simon says bleed.
Phoenix unsheathes a pair of machine PISTOLS. BLAZES
away. Tries the AcMag. Still nothing.
PHOENIX
(re: the AcMag)
Come on, motherfucker.
(then)
Well, we'll do it the old-
fashioned way...
Dumps another load of black powder into the cannon.
STRAFES Spartan. Tamps the powder down. STRAFES Spartan.
Spartan sees a 12-gauge auto loader and a box of shells
across the aisle.
PHOENIX
So lemme get this straight -- they
defrosted you just to lassoo my
piddly ass?
The MAGAZINE EMPTIES. Calculating the odds, Spartan dives
and rolls across the aisle.
SPARTAN
I was in the neighborhood.
He's concerned when there're no shots fired. He oughta
be. Phoenix drops in a cannon ball. Lights the fuse.
Aims.
Spartan comes up BLAZING. Lotta firepower in a 12-GAUGE
at close range. Phoenix has a pair of SIX-SHOOTERS. Bad
Day at Black Rock. CASES SHATTER. The cannon's pointed
straight at Spartan. Displays collapse. Phoenix
flattens. A mannequin falls across the cannon, pointing
the muzzle down.
Phoenix pulls out the now-fully-charged AcMag as the
CANNON FIRES. Right into the floor. BLOWS out one of
the transparent panels. The two of them collapse into
the floor below.
INT. MUSEUM - MAIN HALL - DAY
Smoke everywhere.
PHOENIX (O.S.)
Nice shooting, Spartan. You
killed the building.
The smoke clears. They're in downtown 20th Century
L.A. They've dropped into the archeological exhibit we
saw before. Spartan, shaking off the fall, finds himself
weaponless. Phoenix is spinning madly around, AcMag in
one hand, an Ingram from his shoulder bag in the other.
STRAFES everywhere with the INGRAM. Tosses it away.
PHOENIX
Past is over, Spartan.
(re the AcMag)
Time for something new and improved.
Like me... Now die.
Phoenix aims the AcMag. Completely silent. Then the
first OBJECT that intersects his aim simply EXPLODES.
Whatever it is. Phoenix laughs hysterically. Likes this
new toy a lot. Fires again. A working FIRE HYDRANT
BLOWS UP off its bolts.
Water is spraying everywhere. Phoenix stands in it six
inches deep. Spartan yanks out his stun baton, steps
clear, jams it in the water.
SPARTAN
You forgot to say Simon says.
Spartan activates the stun baton. Phoenix is racked with
pain. Rattled and shaken by the charge. Involuntary
shudders. Yanks himself clear with a wild grin.
PHOENIX
What a brave new world. Sorry you
have to leave.
He FIRES. Spartan dives for cover. Just out of reach he
spots the BERETTA. Dives for it. SHOOTS back. It's
like a popgun compared to the AcMag. Anything but
survival becomes completely out of the question. Phoenix
FIRES ROUND AFTER ROUND. Everything he aims at just
EXPLODES. That Spartan lives through this at all is
amazing.
EXT. MUSEUM - REAR COURTYARD - DAY
Cocteau coolly walks through the freshly-landscaped
courtyard.
A large column of smoke rises out of a section of the
museum. Associate Bob frantically bobs about him.
ASSOCIATE BOB
I'm sure, sir, the Stress Breeder
is inside being demobilized as we
speak...
A BULLET WHISTLES by, barely missing Bob. He hurls
himself into the dirt. Cocteau turns to face a jazzed-
up Phoenix, still draped in weapons, the AcMag tucked in
his belt.
PHOENIX
Damn, being frozen has thrown
off my aim. Don't worry, I'll
kill you with the next shot.
COCTEAU
I don't think so.
Phoenix raises a Luger to Cocteau. Something snaps.
Phoenix's smile turns to a grimace. His gun hand
quivers. He wants to kill, but he can't. Cocteau
folds his arms.
COCTEAU
Ah, no kiss-kiss. No bang-bang...
And you were doing so well. Now,
don't you have a job to do? Don't
you have someone you have to kill?
Phoenix looks at him. Surprised and puzzled...
PHOENIX
Yeah, I do...
Spartan comes crashing out of the wreckage. Loading
the Beretta as he runs, a crazed scowl on his face.
Phoenix leaps the wall.
EXT. MUSEUM STREET - REAR COURTYARD - DAY
Phoenix bounds up a hill. Jumps onto the back of a
WHIRRING ELECTRIC TROLLEY heading by. It picks up speed.
He disappears.
EXT. MUSEUM - REAR COURTYARD - DAY
Spartan takes aim - out of range. Fuck. Turns to
Cocteau.
SPARTAN
You don't know how fucking lucky
you are that maniac didn't whack
you.
COCTEAU
No doubt whacking, whatever it
is, would be extremely bad. You
scared him away and I do not know
how to thank you. You saved my
life.
Spartan gives a SUSPICIOUS glance from the wall to
Cocteau as Cocteau leads him...
EXT. COCTEAU COMPLEX - MUSEUM ENTRANCE - DAY
The cops and passersby are in a state of shock. A column
of smoke still rises from somewhere in the middle of the
building. 2042 Fire Department vehicles arrive. A fire-
man jumps into a control stand atop the vehicle, pulls a
joystick, and the entire back of the truck lifts off,
unmanned drone. He guides it towards the blaze. Under
all of which --
HUXLEY
Not bad for an eighty-four-year-
old! Simon Phoenix knows he has
some competition. He's finally
matched his meat. You really
licked his ass!
SPARTAN
Uh, it's 'met his match.' And
'kicked.' Kicked' his ass.
Cocteau takes a quivering Chief Earle aside.
COCTEAU
(coolly)
Who is this man?
In the b.g., Associate Bob arrives, tidily brushing
dirt off himself.
EARLE
Detective John Spartan.
Temporarily reinstated to the San
Angeles Police Department to
pursue the madman Simon Phoenix.
(ready to cry)
You told us to do everything in
our power to capture the madman.
COCTEAU
(beat)
I did. Yes. Yes, I did. I do
recall the exploits of John
Spartan. Didn't they call him...
I think it was... The Demolition
Man.
(then)
It's quite all right, Chief.
Unexpected, creative, but quite
all right. BE Well.
Earle nods. Still terrified.
COCTEAU
John Spartan, welcome. So, what
do you think of our fair society?
SPARTAN
Great, I come to the future,
Phoenix gets the ray gun, I get
the rusty Beretta.
Cocteau addresses Spartan and the entire assemblage.
COCTEAU
John Spartan, in honor of your
arrival, and your protection of
the sanctity of human life,
namely my own, I wish for you to
join me for dinner tonight.
(sees Huxley
at his side)
The both of you. I insist.
You must accompany me to Taco Bell.
Huxley looks seriously pleased and flattered. Spartan
just has no clue as to this choice of restaurants.
Huxley discreetly elbows him. Hard.
SPARTAN
Uh. That'd be great.
(befuddled)
Looking forward to it...
INT. POLICE STATION - MAIN AREA - DUSK
Spartan is not happy --
SPARTAN
Wait, wait, wait.
Spartan is staring at a vid screen on a wall: Cocteau,
grinning, arms spread, his utopia behind him, and the
Behavioral Engineering logo.
SPARTAN
Spacely Sprockets here, who is now
in charge, the 'Mayor/Gov,' who
wants to take me to dinner at
Taco Bell -- though Lord knows I
wouldn't mind a burrito -- is
also one of the guys who invented
the cryoprison?!
Morality BOX BEEPS. Spartan casually adds the paper to
the collection in his breast pocket. Under --
EARLE
Dr. Cocteau is the most important
man in San Angeles. He practically
created our whole way of life.
Savage!
SPARTAN
Well he can have it.
(choosing words)
And rather than inserting barbed
instruments up the rectums of
those around you, perhaps you
would care to sit on one yourself.
A flustered Earle gives a look to the morality box.
Spartan turns to another vid screen. A map of San
Angeles on it.
SPARTAN
Phoenix could be anywhere, but
not having a code could hurt him.
Limits his options.
HUXLEY
Correct. Money is outmoded. All
transactions are through codes.
SPARTAN
So Phoenix can't buy food or a
place to crash for the night.
Pointless for him to mug anybody...
(beat; thinks)
Unless he rips off someone's hand.
Let's hope he doesn't figure that
one out...
Everyone is momentarily nauseated.
GARCIA
And with all officers already
patrolling in a citywide crisis
net, it should be just a matter of
tick-tocks before...
EARLE
And you know, we already have a
back-up plan. We can just wait
for another code to go red. When
Phoenix performs another
murderdeathkill, we'll know
exactly where to pounce...
SPARTAN
Oh. Great plan.
EARLE
Thank you.
Only Lenina gets the sarcasm. She and Spartan exchange a
look. Spartan goes back to staring at the screen.
SPARTAN
So where the fuck is he?
Spartan reaches without looking. Pockets another
warning.
EXT. SAN ANGELES ALLEY - NIGHT
Simon is behind a shiny silver building. Prying up a
grate.
PHOENIX
No front door, no welcome mat,
what's with these people? How
you supposed to show up and kill
somebody?
He loves his own jokes. Climbs down in. Starts down a
long ladder welded onto the side. Shuts the grate behind
him.
EXT. SAN ANGELES SKYLINE - NIGHT
The 2042 skyline glistens. Tiny cars zip along below us.
INT. LENINA'S POLICE CAR - MOVING - NIGHT
Spartan stares in amazement at Huxley as she prattles
on...
HUXLEY
(a touch embarrassed;
a schoolgirl crush)
I've been an enthusiast of your
escapades for quite some time.
I have, in fact, perused some actual
newsreels of you at the
Schwarzenegger library. The time
you drove your car through that...
SPARTAN
Back up. The Schwarzenegger
library...
HUXLEY
Yes, the Schwarzenegger
Presidential Library. Wasn't he
an actor when you...
SPARTAN
Stop... He was President?
HUXLEY
Even though he was not born in
this country, his popularity at
the time caused the 61st Amendment
which states...
SPARTAN
(waving her off)
I don't want to know...
They drive in silence for a while, Spartan staring out
the window at 2042 passing by.
SPARTAN
I keep looking around, thinking
about my daughter growing up in a
place like this. I'm afraid she's
gonna think I'm some kind of
disgusting primate from the past.
As much as I want to see her, I
almost don't wanna know. I'm not
gonna fit into the picture very
well.
Huxley reaches for the car terminal; thrilled with this
small mischief.
HUXLEY
It would be a minor misuse of
police powers but I could do a
search for you.
Spartan reaches over, stops her hand. Shakes his head
"no." There's a moment between the two of them. He
remembers he shouldn't touch her. Lets go. She doesn't
seem to mind.
SPARTAN
(then; changing
subjects)
So, what's with this Cocteau guy?
He thanks me for saving his life --
which I'm not sure I did --
invites me to dinner, and where
does he take me... Taco Bell. I
mean, hey, I like Mexican but
come on...
HUXLEY
Your tone is quasi-facetious. You
do not realize Taco Bell was the
only restaurant to survive the
Franchise Wars. All restaurants
are now Taco Bell.
As they pull up in front --
EXT. TACO BELL - NIGHT
It is unlike any Taco Bell we will ever see. Holographic
images hover in the air in front of the marble entrance.
A row of jacketed valets stands ready. One rushes up.
As they enter, a periscope pipe pops up, looks around,
disappears. No one notices it.
INT. TACO BELL - FRONT COUNTER AREA - NIGHT
Sparse, elegant and Melrose-dark. As Huxley and Spartan
enter a mariachi band takes their place in the corner.
Huxley and Spartan walk up to a sultry future version of
a Taco Bell order counter. Spartan is trying to
assimilate it all when the COUNTER-GIRL breaks the ultra-
cool character of the restaurant to give him a typical
fast food happy face.
COUNTERGIRL
Hi! May I help you?
SPARTAN
Uh, I'll take a Burrito Supreme
and a shake?
COUNTERGIRL
Will that be for here or to go?
SPARTAN
Ah. The eternal question... Here.
She does a perky fast food spin to the station behind
her and whips back a silver tray holding an ornate china
set.
COUNTERGIRL
Burrito Supreme. Shake. BE well.
Spartan looks down to a miniscule cylinder of pressed
kelp topped with a dab of salsa and small sesame-seed-
type bits. The tiny shake is in a thimble-sized frost-
covered glass.
SPARTAN
Oooh. Yum... Good thing I'm
hungry.
INT. TACO BELL - COCTEAU'S TABLE - NIGHT
The mariachi band launches into the Mexican hat dance
song as Spartan and Lenina, carrying their trays, are
escorted by a maitre d' to a table set in a secluded
section of the restaurant. Cocteau and Associate Bob
wait for them. Cocteau stands --
COCTEAU
John Spartan, the hero of the
hour. I congratulate you.
ASSOCIATE BOB
Greetings and salutations, I am
Associate Bob. We met before,
ever so briefly but I was
groveling in fear in the humus at
the time. You have had quite the
exciting first day in San Angeles.
Imagine, chasing a real criminal.
SPARTAN
(sitting)
Imagine. Could someone pass the
salt?
HUXLEY
(whispering)
Salt is not good for you. Hence
it is...
Spartan glares her quiet, pokes at his "Burrito Supreme."
A beat. Cocteau muses --
COCTEAU
So, John Spartan, tell me, what
do you think of San Angeles, 2042?
SPARTAN
I guess, considering the way
things were going when I went
in -- I thought the future would
be a sick, decaying pit of
suffering and hate with a thick,
foul stench.
Cocteau gloats.
COCTEAU
You should consider visiting New
York/Jersey after this.
SPARTAN
(brightening)
You mean nothing's changed?
Associate Bob roars in appreciative empty laughter.
Think Ed McMahon. Spartan looks at him. It wasn't
funny. Pokes at his burrito. Ugh...
COCTEAU
Look at you, John Spartan, pouting
for the old cheeseburger -- the
flesh of dying animals covered
with cholesterol laden butterfat.
You miss the bad old days.
SPARTAN
Yeah, maybe.
(then)
Look, I like vegetables. I even
ate tofu a couple times. But I
got to choose when I wanted it.
COCTEAU
You think we've gone too far? You
weren't here for the fourth and
fifth riots.
(harsh)
Civilization tried to destroy
itself. People just wanted the
madness over. And when I saw
the chance to make things right,
I grabbed it. San Angeles would
not be here. It would be your
pit of stench.
SPARTAN
Yeah? Maybe you can book me a
flight to New York when this is
done.
Lenina's shocked. Cocteau's not thrilled with his
attitude either.
COCTEAU
For your crimes, John Spartan,
you would have surely rotted and
died in jail by now. Even you
have to appreciate the
persuasively tranquil humanity of
the Cryo-Prison system...
SPARTAN
I don't want to piss on your
parade, pal, but my 'cryo-
sentence' wasn't a sweet lullaby.
I had feelings -- I had
thoughts -- a 44 year-old bad
dream about thirty people in a
burning building -- about my wife,
beating her fists against an ice
bucket. It woulda been more
humane to stake me down and leave
me to the crows.
HUXLEY
You were awake? A person would go
insane.
Spartan stares out the window. Across the street he sees
a scragly SCRAP on a sputtery patched together motor bike
in front of a large food store across the street.
COCTEAU
I am saddened and stunned. If
there's anything I can do...
Spartan goes back to staring out the window. Two, three,
then four Scraps loitering, looking around, they've done
nothing yet, but to Spartan's eye it's clear they're up
to no good.
The food truck approaches.
SPARTAN
(standing)
Just call for back-up. I'll be
across the street.
HUXLEY
But, John Spartan, why... How,
wha...
SPARTAN
(calling out; as he
leaves)
One of those hunch things again.
Bad guys about to do bad things...
And Spartan is gone...
EXT. COURT OF STORES - NIGHT
The court of stores are located outside the restaurant.
Spartan steps past the holographic images toward the food
store.
No one can mistake him for an exiting patron. He
radiates attitude. Spartan picks up his pace. The food
truck is just pulling in. The Motorcycle Scrap sees him.
REVS the BIKE in a ferocious swerve towards Spartan.
Spartan looks around. Beside him is a street SIGN
MURMURING "Third and Alemeda, Third and Alemeda,
Third..." Spartan rips it from the ground.
INT. TACO BELL - TABLE AREA - NIGHT
Lenina, and the rest of the restaurant gather at the
window to ooh in fear. Cocteau scowls angrily at the
Scraps.
EXT. COURT OF STORES - NIGHT
The Scrap on the motorcycle has no time to dodge as
Spartan stands his ground, jousts him clear out of
his seat. The motorcycle skids by, barely missing him,
hits the curb, somersaults and explodes through the
holograms. Spartan doesn't even flinch.
Still clutching the pole, Spartan makes a swift kempo-
swing into the three other attackers. And then, all hell
breaks loose.
EXPLOSIVE DEVICES EXPLODE the concrete inside nearby
stores. Scraps come pouring out. Sewer COVERS are
BLOWN asunder followed by chain- and nunchuck-wielding
Scraps.
An ALARM SCREAMS strangely and melodically. The food
truck is swarmed. Inside the foodstore ten, twenty,
thirty Scraps attack and loot. Spartan sees there's a
lot of them here. A whole lot.
SPARTAN
Great, they brought the whole
team.
Three more Scraps come charging out of the store.
Clutching packages. They hurl EXPLOSIVE DEVICES towards
Spartan to make their escape.
INT. TACO BELL - TABLE AREA - NIGHT
Lenina leads a round of giddy gasps. Cocteau is not
pleased with any of this.
EXT. COURT OF STORES - NIGHT
Spartan dodges the fusillade, looks around, takes stock
of the whole situation. An oncoming trolley comes around
the corner into the complex.
SPARTAN
Now if we can just get them to
stay and play...
Spartan dashes to the trolley car. He bounds up to
the DRIVER.
TROLLEY DRIVER
BE well...?
SPARTAN
Be gone.
Spartan tugs the driver along with him out of the moving
trolley. He javelins a mighty thrust with the street
sign into the back wheels of the trolley.
INT. TACO BELL - TABLE AREA - NIGHT
The patrons grow dead silent in anticipation.
EXT. COURT OF STORES - NIGHT
The TROLLEY teeters into a savagely awesome derail. It
goes into a SQUEALING, sparking SKID right into the food
truck. The slamming-to-a-stop trolley neatly angles into
the truck trapping Scraps out front and inside.
INT. TACO BELL - TABLE AREA - NIGHT
The patrons unbridle themselves into actual cheering.
EXT. COURT OF STORES - NIGHT
Spartan bursts forth from the trolley into the melee.
SPARTAN
You're all under arrest.
The Scraps freeze for a moment. This guy means business
in a way they've never seen before. But Spartan is dis-
tracted for a moment by an excited yell --
SCRAP RAIDER
Protein! I've found protein!!
This doesn't sound like hardened criminals to Spartan.
More Scraps rush over to help him carry this booty away.
A SCRAP appears beside Spartan, swinging a pair of
nunchucks made from two knobby table legs.
SPARTAN
(wearily)
You're going to regret this for
the rest of your life. Both
seconds of it.
Nunchuck Scrap thwaps Spartan. Spartan just looks
annoyed, not hurt. Slams him again. Still no reaction.
Spartan latches onto a nunchuck in the air as it comes
toward him. Yanks it forward as he shoves the Scrap
backward into the food store window. The Scrap bounces
off the window like a nerf ball, not remotely cracking
it. Spartan frowns to himself.
SPARTAN
Maybe I'm losing my touch.
Two other Scraps attack him. Spartan fends off one,
shotputs the other into the WINDOW, this time SHATTERING
it competely.
SPARTAN
Better.
Up on the truck, Payne, under an enormous load of food,
appears. Takes quick stock of the situation. He sees
Spartan. Has no idea who this guy is, but he's trouble.
They exchange a look.
PAYNE
We're outta here!
INT. TACO BELL - TABLE AREA - NIGHT
Cocteau smolders at the sight of Payne.
EXT. COURT OF STORES - NIGHT
The HURLED SCRAP stumbles out of the window wreckage,
falling to his knees. As Spartan considers what the hell
is really going on, and should he deck this guy, a bunch
of cans of quirky food cascade out of the Scrap's jacket.
HURLED SCRAP
(genuine pleading)
Please... don't...
Spartan stops. Backs away. Watches oddly as the Scrap
escapes. He lets them go. Steps back away as the others
escape. They don't know why he changed his mind, but
they're not staying around to find out.
Huxley and the restaurant patrons rush up to give him a
blast of adulation. Spartan's attention stays on the
fleeing Scraps.
HUXLEY
Such a reckless abandonment!
Looks like there's a new shepherd
in town!
SPARTAN
'Sheriff'... Who were those guys?
COCTEAU
We call them Scraps. Voluntary
outcasts, they cower beneath us
in sewers, abandoned tunnels...
ASSOCIATE BOB
They're nothing but thugs and
hooligans.
Cocteau nods appreciatively; Bob is echoing some previous
statement of his. In the b.g., a team of uniformed
engineers are patching up a hole in the ground using a
set of steel planks, laser welders, giant cement spurting
pastry bags...
HUXLEY
(to Spartan)
You are even better live than on
laserdisc. Oh, and the joyjoy
way you paused to make a glib
witticism before doing battle with
that strangely-weaponed Scrap it
was so, so...
SPARTAN
(losing it)
Hey, this isn't the Wild West.
The Wild West wasn't even the Wild
West. Hurting people is not a
good time. Well, sometimes it
is... but not when it's just a
bunch of guys who want something
to eat. You know, I think I
liked it better when we were all
supposed to fry in a nuclear
holocaust.
Cocteau doesn't look pleased about any of this. Spartan
storms off. Lenina, letting out a shocked breath, gulps
and follows after him.
EXT. ADDITIONAL SAN ANGELES STREET - NIGHT
Huxley's cruiser glides INTO FRAME.
HUXLEY (V.O.)
Huxley, coding off.
INT. LENINA'S POLICE CAR - MOVING - NIGHT
Spartan watches as the steering wheel retracts into the
dash. Shakes his head. Everything is weird in the
future. Then --
SPARTAN
Hey, look, I'm sorry I yelled
before... back there.
HUXLEY
No need to make a dehurtful
retraction. I've assimilated
too much contraband. I fleshed
you as some blow-up-the-bad-guys-
with-a-happy-grin-he-man type, but
I realize now you're the moody-
troubled-past-gunslinger-who-only-
draws-when-he-must.
SPARTAN
Huxley. Stop. I'm not any of
that... I'm nothing.
Touched, Lenina hands Spartan a small, unusual box.
HUXLEY
Oh, hey, here's what you asked
for... Why do you...
SPARTAN
Thanks. It's just a... hunch.
LENINA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Lenina's CAR WHIRRS up to two giant, geometric buildings.
SPARTAN
This is where you live?
HUXLEY
You, too. I have procured you a
domicile down the corridor from
my own.
INT. LENINA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
BLACK SCREEN
HUXLEY (O.S.)
Everything is voice-coded. So if
you need something...
A door opens in the darkness.
HUXLEY
... just ask. Lights.
Lights come up. The place is like one of the 50's
diners that never existed in the Fifties, the apartment
is a monstrosity -- a melange of 80's and 90's styles
never quite seen together in this way.
HUXLEY
(proudly)
What do you think? I clicked off
a lot of credits to create the
perfect 20th Century apartment.
SPARTAN
It's very...
Not sure what. Just nods at all. She beams.
HUXLEY
Isn't it?
(then; a little
halting)
John Spartan, there is of course a
well-known and documented connection
between sex and violence. Not so
much a causal effect, but a state
of general neurological arousal.
Spartan looks at her. He has no idea what her point is.
HUXLEY
And after observing your behavior
and my resultant condition, I was
wondering if you would like to
have sex?
He had no idea that was going to be her point.
SPARTAN
With you?
(as she nods)
Now?
(as she nods
again)
Ahhh, ahhh, mmm, yeah.
HUXLEY
Great.
She turns quickly to a cabinet and removes two strange
high-tech helmets and a towel. Lenina, all excited, puts
one of the helmets on his head and hands him the towel.
Flicks a switch on the side of the helmet -- read-out
lights come on; activated. Lenina sits upon a bed
opposite Spartan, and repeats the operation on herself
with the other helmet.
HUXLEY
Now you have to relax. We'll
start in a few seconds.
SPARTAN
Start what?
HUXLEY
Having sex, of course.
And she flicks on the switch on her own helmet.
VIRTUAL REALITY WORLD
Lenina appears floating, a diaphanous gown blowing
gently about her. She floats slowly TOWARDS us, as she
begins to peel off and discard pieces of the gown which
dissolve immediately away. As she approaches nakedness...
INT. LENINA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
A beat of open-mouthed amazement and enjoyment and then
Spartan tears the helmet from his head and throws down
his towel with a mixture of confusion and anxiety.
Lenina is still seated across the room.
HUXLEY
What's wrong? You broke contact.
SPARTAN
Contact? I haven't even touched
you yet!
Lenina removes her helmet with some confusion and hurt.
HUXLEY
But... but I thought you wanted
to make love.
SPARTAN
This is like boning Ms. Pacman.
Lenina stands, tossing her helmet down, and faces
Spartan.
HUXLEY
(flustered)
Vir-sex has been proven to
produce higher orders of
alpha waves during digitized
transference of sexual energies!
SPARTAN
Waddya say we just do this the
old-fashioned way?
She looks at him, backing away in shock and disgust.
HUXLEY
Uuuugh. You mean... fluid transfer?!
SPARTAN
Boning, doing the wild mambo,
you know...
(demonstrates)
... the hunka chunka.
HUXLEY
That is no longer done!
Spartan looks at her like she's out of her mind.
HUXLEY
Exchange of bodily fluids? Do
you know what that leads to?
SPARTAN
Kids, smoking, a desire to raid
the fridge.
HUXLEY
The rampant exchange of bodily
fluids was one of the major reasons
for the downfall of society.
(trying to explain
calmly)
After AIDS there was NRS. After
NRS there was UBT. One of the
first things Dr. Cocteau was able
to do was outlaw and behaviorally
engineer all fluid transfer out
of societally-acceptable
behavior. Not even mouth
transfer is condoned.
SPARTAN
There's no kissing anymore...?
I was a good kisser...
HUXLEY
Ughh.
SPARTAN
What about kids?
HUXLEY
Procreation? We go to the lab.
Fluids are purified, screened
and transferred by authorized
medical personnel only. Ugh.
Ugh...
SPARTAN
I didn't...
HUXLEY
You are a savage creature. John
Spartan, I wish you to leave my
domicile now!
She points to the door. Stamps her foot. Some things
never change. He wants to explain. She stamps her foot
again. He leaves.
INT. SPARTAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
In darkness, Spartan loudly bangs into something.
SPARTAN
Ahh. Lights.
Lights come up. The place is, well, spartan. Exact
same shape and size as Huxley's, but stunningly sterile
and unwarm. Spartan tragically takes in the place,
pokes his head into a clinical bathroom, a bathroom with
no toilet paper and a strange shelf with three seashells.
Shakes his head.
Spartan's hands start to quiver toward a knitting needle
and a ball of red yarn. Curiously furrowing his brow,
Spartan plops into a strenuously uncomfortable futuristic
chair and begins almost unconsciously knitting the red
yarn. He stops himself in perplexed surprise...
Suddenly, a LOUD BOPPING noise fills the air. A beautiful
NUDE WOMAN, casually brushing her teeth, appears on a
vidscreen before Spartan.
NUDE WOMAN (IMAGE)
Hi, Martin! I was thinki -- ohmyGod!
I'm sorry, wrong number --
In a panic, the Nude Woman reaches O.S. and the IMAGE
CLICKS off. Spartan smiles, then stops smiling. He
awkwardly calls out to the telescreen.
SPARTAN
Uh, telephone directory...
VIDSCREEN COMPUTER (V.O.)
(words appearing
simultaneously on the
screen)
Videophone directory accessed.
Spartan almost bails, but finally --
SPARTAN
(a little worried)
Do you have a number for a Katie,
I guess it's Katherine now,
Spartan? Or maybe under her
mom's name, Warren, or...
(the thought hits
him)
... her mom might have even
re-remarried. But she's passed
away now...
Shuts up. Realizes he's been rambling.
VIDSCREEN COMPUTER (V.O.)
(as soon as he shuts up)
Katie Spartan. No ref. Katherine
Spartan. No ref. Katherine
Warren.
(pause, pause)
No current ref.
SPARTAN
Was there one?
VIDSCREEN COMPUTER (V.O.)
Listed offspring under Madeline
Warren through 2010. Listed
different number domicile until
2028.
SPARTAN
What happened then?
He can't believe he's having a dialogue with TV screen,
but...
VIDSCREEN COMPUTER (V.O.)
No ref.
SPARTAN
(dreading the answer)
Did she die?
VIDSCREEN COMPUTER (V.O.)
No death certificate issued.
No ref.
SPARTAN
Good thing she didn't die without
permission. Did she move?
VIDSCREEN COMPUTER (V.O.)
No relocation license granted.
No ref.
SPARTAN
(getting irked)
Reason for 'no ref'?
VIDSCREEN COMPUTER (V.O.)
(after a beat)
What number do you wish to call?
Hangs up on him.
The image blinks out, replaced by clouds and the "BE
WELL" slogan. An annoyed Spartan stares at the screen.
He picks up the strange box Lenina gave him. Inside it
is a stack of petite laserdiscs. Spartan sticks the
first laserdisc in his television.
A surveillance camera shot shows the image of the explo-
sion at the museum. Spartan pops the disc and puts
another in. This time the surveillance village shows
Cocteau and Associate Bob walking through the courtyard.
Then the gunshot. Then finally Spartan comes to the
strange face-to-face between Cocteau and Phoenix.
Spartan back-and-forth watches the stand~off with growing
fascination. He almost unconsciously reaches out to the
sewing needles and the red yarn...
INT. COCTEAU'S OFFICE - NIGHT
Dark. Cocteau steps in. Trailed by Associate Bob.
Nothing happens. He looks around wondering why.
COCTEAU
(a little annoyed)
Lights.
PHOENIX (O.S.)
Nah, I changed that. Illuminate.
The lights go on. Simon is behind Cocteau's desk, his feet
up.
PHOENIX
Illuminate.
(they go off)
Isn't that nicer? Go 'head, you
try it.
COCTEAU
(exasperated)
Illuminate.
The lights come back on.
PHOENIX
Raymond, bud, we need to talk.
COCTEAU
How'd you get in?
PHOENIX
I wish I knew. Access codes,
routes to secret underground
kingdoms, the words to songs I
thought I forgot... I've been
meaning to ask you about this. I
can do almost anything. I like
this. A lot.
COCTEAU
(starting to lose his
calm demeanor)
Your skills were given to you for
a reason. Not for your personal
amusement. Your job is to kill
this nuisance, Thomas Payne no
one else in San Angeles can
perform this simple task
anymore -- and not to allow him to
wreak any more surface harassing
havoc. And your ineptitude
allowed it to grow worse tonight.
PHOENIX
(beat)
'Ineptitude.' Now I'd say that's
a bit of a provocative word,
Raymond. Have you ever been down
to the Wasteland? Has anyone you
know been down there?? No?
(good; then I lie madly)
Oooh. It's bad down there. Really
bad. It's a wonder I got out of
there alive. It's gonna be a big
problem.
(sorry, but...)
I'm gonna need five or six more
guys. Easy.
(then)
You gotta list? 'Cause I don't
wanna defrost no serial killers
or mad dog types.
COCTEAU
So you're gonna be the only mad
dog type?
For a minute we might think Phoenix is insulted. Uh uh.
PHOENIX
Exactemundo.
Cocteau turns to Bob.
COCTEAU
Fine. Take care of it.
(then to Phoenix)
Just get it over with... You're
beginning to be more trouble
than you're worth.
PHOENIX
Aww, don't say that...
Phoenix chuckles. Then, a little irked --
PHOENIX
What the hell is Spartan doing
here, Raymond? Who invited him to
our party?
Cocteau's gotta lie about this one. Wasn't part of his
plan either.
COCTEAU
Finish your business and I'll
stuff him back in the freezer.
Think of him as a guarantee.
PHOENIX
I took care of Spartan before,
don't worry your pointy little
head about it. Now to avoid this
ineptitude, we need these guys
thawed...
Cocteau nods. Yeah, whatever...
PHOENIX
Illuminate.
The lights go out again. Simon chuckles madly.
COCTEAU
(getting aggravated)
Illuminate.
Nothing happens.
PHOENIX
(laughing as he
disappears)
Nah, I changed it again. See ya...
ASSOCIATE BOB
What a distasteful fellow.
Cocteau just looks at him. Enough already...
COCTEAU
Oh shut up, Bob.
EXT. LENINA'S APARTMENT - MORNING
Lenina is waiting outside her car as Spartan emerges from
the building.
HUXLEY
(all business)
Detective...
SPARTAN
(getting in the
driver's side)
I've got to learn to do this
sometime.
Spartan tosses Lenina a suavely-knitted sweater of
familiar red yarn.
SPARTAN
This is for you, Huxley.
HUXLEY
Oh, thanks...
INT. LENINA'S POLICE CAR - DAY
Lenina holds up her new sweater with a tickled blush.
Spartan determinedly presses buttons to get the CAR
HUMMING off.
HUXLEY
What a lovely...
SPARTAN
I don't know what they put in my
Cryoslush, but I thaw out and the
first thing I want to do is...
knit. How come I know what a
zipper foot is, a shuttle, hook
and bobbin, petitpoint. I could
weave a throw rug right now with
my eyes closed.
HUXLEY
(chuckling)
It was your rehab training. For
each inmate the computer draws up
a skill or trade which best suits
their genetic disposition. It
implants the knowledge and desire
to carry out whatever training
was assigned.
SPARTAN
I'm a 'seamstress?' Seamstress.
Great. How come I come out of
cryoprison and I'm Betsy fucking
Ross and Phoenix comes out and he
can access computers, operate all
vehicles, find the locations of
every damn thing in the city?
(he has a thought)
Can you get me Phoenix's rehab
program?
Huxley punches madly away. An ACCESS DENIED sign flashes
on the screen, cutting her off. Lenina gets into a
little more furious COMPUTER playing until she gets a
violent BEEP.
A SWEET FEMALE COMPUTER VOICE CHIRPS along with
corresponding printed information.
SWEET FEMALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
Phoenix, Simon. Rehabilitation
skills; Urban combatkill, torture
methodology, computer override
authorization, violent...
SPARTAN
Who develops the rehab programs?
Attila the Hun?
HUXLEY
(disquieted)
Cocteau Industries of course.
But why would Cocteau want to
provoke madness? He's always
been obsessed with one thing...
SPARTAN
Yeah... control. The success of
his favorite restaurants. The
end of kissing... I've gotta talk
to this asshole.
HUXLEY
But, John Spartan, you must be
mistaken. You can't accuse the
savior of the city of being
connected to a multi-murder-
deathkiller like Simon Phoenix.
It's... rude.
SPARTAN
I'll be subtle. I'm good at
subtle.
Lenina looks anything but reassured.
INT. COCTEAU COMPLEX - COCTEAU'S LOBBY - DAY
ASSOCIATE BOB
I am ever so sorry, John Spartan,
but Dr. Raymond Cocteau is not
here for your unannounced visit.
I don't think I can access him at
this time.
Spartan grabs him by the throat. Pulls him inches away
from his own face.
SPARTAN
Think again.
ASSOCIATE BOB
(choked)
I'll give it my utmost efforts,
sir.
Spartan shoves him back. Bob drops to a keyboard. His
fingers fly madly.
ASSOCIATE BOB
Oh wonder of wonders, I have him
on FiberOp in the conference
room.
INT. COCTEAU COMPLEX - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
Cocteau appears on a dozen swiveling VideoHeads.
COCTEAU
(condescending)
Mellow apologies for my lack of
physical disposition, Detective,
but I do have an entire city/gov
to run.
Spartan wastes no time with pleasantries.
SPARTAN
Run this. You programmed
Phoenix's rehab to turn him into
a terrorist. Now that you wussed
out this entire society in a
tribute to yourself you needed
Phoenix to handle the cast-offs
who wouldn't listen to your
bullshit.
Huxley cringes. The MORALITY BOX BEEPS. Cocteau stares
at him with that weird hypnotic serenity.
COCTEAU
Phoenix's rehab. Now.
Half the screens scroll into Phoenix's rehab file. This
time completely innocuous:
SWEET FEMALE COMPUTER (V.O.)
Phoenix, Simon. Rehabilitation
skills; Decorative Gardening,
Retail Floral Arrangements...
COCTEAU
What are you speaking of, Detective?
My only interest in Simon Phoenix
was in that of the creation of an
expert Florist.
SPARTAN
Florist? Phoenix wouldn't know a
prickly pear from a pair of pricks.
Spartan yanks out the Beretta. Associate Bob backs
away while glancing furtively at a closed door. BLAM.
BLAM. BLAM. Shoots out three of the screens.
SPARTAN
Try again.
Even on video, Cocteau flinches visibly.
SPARTAN
Outside the museum, why didn't he
blow your brains out? I saw the
security disc. Phoenix had a
full ten seconds to think about
where to put the hole in your
head.
COCTEAU
(a little shook)
John Spartan, this display of
barbaric behavior was not
acceptable even in your time.
SPARTAN
Yeah. But it worked.
BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. Shoots out three more. Associate
Bob faints dead away.
SPARTAN
When a man like Phoenix has a
gun to your head, ten seconds
is nine and a half seconds longer
than you live.
COCTEAU
(on the vid screen)
Not everyone is as eager as you
to resort to violence to solve
all the difficulties in life.
Even now I am beginning to wonder
if the fracas in the museum was
the result of Mr. Phoenix's
presence or your own.
The Beretta appears next to Cocteau's head onscreen.
CUT TO:
INT. COCTEAU'S COMPLEX - COCTEAU'S OFFICE - DAY
Cocteau is in a corner of the room in front of a private
Vidhead. Spartan stands with Beretta pointed directly
at him. Nonetheless, Cocteau remains his arrogant self.
SPARTAN
Wonder about this, shithead. You
think you can control this guy?
Trust me... you can't.
COCTEAU
(a beat; unfazed)
Is there something specific you plan
to do with that archaic device?
Spartan's not going to shoot him; lowers the gun.
COCTEAU
Now, John Spartan, do you not query
yourself that this misplaced
hostility is the result of your
transference of self hatred and
personal loathing?
SPARTAN
What??
COCTEAU
Perhaps you blame me for my role
in the progenation of the cryo
process. That does not relieve
you of your burden of
responsibility for the commitment
of your initial crimes.
Spartan looks at him a long time.
SPARTAN
Fuck you.
Huxley visibly recoils. The morality box BRAAAPS. It
never gets any further. Spartan shoots it without a
look, dead center. His eyes never leave Cocteau.
EXT. TACO BELL/COURT OF STORES - DUSK
The scene of the Scraps' food truck attack. As, ON THE
CUT, Spartan wrenches off one of the steel planks. It
splits open with RUSH of AIR. Earle had no idea how to
stop Spartan, but he tries --
EARLE
Please cease this madness,
enhance your calm, John Spartan.
SPARTAN
I've had it with enhancing my
calm. I'm going to find Phoenix
and enhance his calm instead.
I'm the only one here who can
handle this situation.
GARCIA
How will you accomplish this,
John Spartan?
SPARTAN
I'm going to blow his fucking
head off.
Spartan wrenches away another plank. The others back off
in fear. It's like he's opening up the mouth to hell.
HUXLEY
John Spartan, even if Simon
Phoenix was programmed to escape,
extinguish life and steal
contraband weapons -- by forces
known or unknown -- pray tell why
are you proceeding to the depths
of Wasteland?
Spartan wrenches off another plank. Now the hole is big
enough to enter. A set of rungs can be discerned.
Stops, looks at Earle. How can they all not get it?
SPARTAN
The reason the citywide manhunt
didn't work was because Phoenix
was down in the one place you A,
can't monitor, B, are afraid to
visit, and C don't give a shit
about.
EARLE
(then; braver)
Whether Phoenix is down there or
not, you just can't drop in.
Resonate some understanding, the
Wasteland is filled with thugs
and...
SPARTAN
Hooligans, I know. We might
never come back.
EARLE
Yeah. You might like it down
there.
Spartan looks at him with a grin.
SPARTAN
You made a joke. There's hope
after all.
(then)
Hey, how bad could it be...
Nobody has a clue. It could be really bad.
SPARTAN
Look, you two don't have to do
this. I can handle Phoenix.
Huxley checks her stun baton and lights up a lightwand,
(a hand-held flashlight device) and follows him in.
HUXLEY
(Eastwood tough)
Hey, come on, let's go blow this
guy.
SPARTAN
That's 'blow this guy away.'
HUXLEY
(shrugs)
Whatever.
INT. WASTELAND - OMINOUS TUNNEL - DUSK
Spartan, Lenina, and Garcia all carry lightwands and stun
batons, treading forward through a wide sewer tunnel.
WIND WHISTLES by. A beat, then Garcia nervously sings...
GARCIA
'My dog's better than your dog.
My dog's better than yours...
My dog's better cause he...'
(to Spartan)
Sorry, when I'm nervous, I...
Sorry.
INT. WASTELAND - LENGTH OF PIPE - DUSK
The trio creeps into an ornate piece of piping. Lenina
gasps at what she sees before her... They spill out
into --
INT. WASTELAND - UNDERGROUND STREET - NIGHT
They are in the Wasteland which is surprisingly busy and
crowded. People living in tents, lean-tos, whatever
their ingenuity can provide. Think Third World refugee
camp underground, a souk. Marketplaces, food stalls...
The underbelly of the city lit from above by strand after
strand of bulbs in construction cages and other fortui-
tously salvaged lights, revealing odd tunnels of
indeterminate former usage, abandoned subway platforms,
natural caverns, a cutway of fifty years of sanitary
landfill, the striations of decades of now useful trash
being harvested. Giant belt driven ventilation fans
whirl in enormous airshafts overhead.
The three move along taking in the curious but
unfrightened glances. More than one person recognizes
Spartan from the battle the night before. You can feel
the buzz work down the street.
SPARTAN
Thugs and hooligans, huh?
HUXLEY
I had no idea... we've always been
told the only people down here were
savages, who wanted only to...
Spartan, Lenina, and Garcia find themselves starting to
sniff the air. Spartan grins, while the others look
ready to vomit.
GARCIA
What is that emanation?
SPARTAN
Oh, yeah, oh yeah...
The trio drifts toward a large, square hole in the sewer
wall in front of which a smiling OLD WOMAN is smoking up
some meat and tortillas on a makeshift grill. Other
Scraps sit in the space square behind, smoking cigarettes
and eating on ratty armchairs between shabby travel
posters.
SPARTAN
Thank God, a real burrito...
Smokes.
HUXLEY
I think I'm going to...
Salivating, Spartan silences Lenina by taking off her
watch and giving it to the woman. He snatches up a
burrito and a cigarette.
OLD WOMAN
(to Garcia)
Buenos dias, senor....
GARCIA
Uh, no thank you...
Spartan methodically switches back and forth from eating
and smoking like a machine.
SPARTAN
Best damn burritos I ever had.
HUXLEY
Just don't ask where the meat
comes from.
SPARTAN
What do you mean?
HUXLEY
Did you see any cows down here,
Detective?
Spartan's got one bite left. Turns to the old woman --
SPARTAN
Que esta esso carne?
OLD WOMAN
Esta carne de rodentia.
Beat.
SPARTAN
Rat burritos. I'm eating a rat
burrito.
Spartan thinks about it. Eats the last bite.
SPARTAN
And it was good. Damn fine salsa
too.
OLD WOMAN
Gracias, Senor.
Huxley is nauseous.
GARCIA
Oh my...
They turn and walk on. Ignoring the very disreptuable
looking cantina tucked into a carved out section of
landfill. As they go by, we PUSH IN with a seedy-
looking patron to find --
INT. WASTELAND - BAR
It's as low life a place there is down here. It's
further dragged down by the presence, in the furthest
back, darkest corner, of Simon Phoenix and Six Cryocons,
freshly defrosted and each the size of a major appliance,
ALBERT, BEPPO, CHARLIE, DANZIG, ELVIN and FRANCIS. All
a little groggy. Phoenix, very execu-criminal, sits at
the head of the raggedy bar table.
PHOENIX
Gentlemen, let's review. It's
2042. That's two oh four two, as
in the Twenty-First Century. The
world is a pussy-whipped Disney
Channel version of itself and all
we gotta do to run the whole place
is kill this guy, named Raymond,
who put it all together. Then
as an added bonus, you get to kill
the man who put most of us in the
freezer, your pal and mine, John
Spartan.
(this goes over big;
now for the plan)
We can rape, loot, pillage, all
the fun things you remember.
This place is gonna be like a
theme park, but with our kinda
themes. Let's get busy.
BEPPO
(fixated on this
previous point)
We get to kill John Spartan?
PHOENIX
(knows his clientele)
Over and over and over, if you'd
like.
Beppo does like. Nods. Sounds like a good plan to
everyone else as well.
PHOENIX
(throwing back his
drink)
Salud.
INT. WASTELAND - LARGE CAVERN - NIGHT
Spartan, Huxley and Garcia step in. A meeting place
of sorts. A machine shop. Off to one side, a giant
belt driven machine shop out of 1900, taking its power
from a water wheel, attached to an enormous transmission
spinning furiously. Mechanics fix and combine various
vehicles into working fashion. Blow torches, bellows.
Another flume feeds a wildly churning wheel running the
fans.
We can see stalls and houses around the rim. Out of date
cars are being used as homes. Spartan takes it all in.
His eye catches a bright red 1969 Pontiac GTO beside the
machine shop. He's drawn to it in admiration, Huxley and
Garcia in his wake.
SPARTAN
Nice... A 1969 Pontiac LeMans GTO
convertible with rear spoiler and
hot wheel mags... Seriously beyond
the standard package.
A very large caliber revolver appears alongside Spartan's
head.
VOICE (O.S.)
So are these. Why don't you put
down the glow rods.
Spartan does. The man with the gun is Payne. Six other
SCRAP TOUGHS have the drop on Lenina and Garcia with
giant crude shotguns. One of them wears a familiar
periscope around his neck.
PAYNE
Your friends too.
(they do)
You got ball balls, cop, coming down
here after the show you put on...
HUXLEY
(tough as she can)
We're looking for a MurderDeath
Killer... Can you help? Or just
bully us with these primitive
weapons?
Spartan shakes his head in disbelief. Payne shifts his
aim. FIRES. Blows a hole in the side of an abandoned
car the size of a grapefruit.
SPARTAN
Well, maybe they're not so
primitive.
PAYNE
Not funny, not smart. What do
you want, cop?
SPARTAN
I got a few questions.
Payne COCKS his PISTOL, aims at Spartan.
SPARTAN
But if it's a bad time we could
come back later.
PAYNE
It's always a bad time down here
for questions.
TOUGH SCRAP
You've got no business down here.
SPARTAN
Who are all you people? And why
are you down here?
PAYNE
What's it to you? What the hell
do you care?
SPARTAN
Look, I'm not from here. Well, I
am from here, but I'm not from
Now. And for all I can see, this
whole place is as fucked up as
where I'm from... I'd just kinda
like to know what's going on.
Spartan still waits. A crowd begins to grow. Payne,
despite the fact that he's the guy with the gun, decides
to answer.
PAYNE
Some of us didn't tow the line.
Some of us didn't make the grade.
Spartan stares past Payne to wild pieces of graffiti on
a wall behind him that includes "I HATE SAN ANGELES and
SUCK MY COCTEAU!"
PAYNE
And some of us just got tired of
being told what to do...
SPARTAN
Guess you people weren't part of
the Cocteau plan.
PAYNE
Man, this is the Cocteau plan.
SPARTAN
Next time you go shopping, I'm
not going to be in your way...
(then)
Listen, when the laws are wrong,
men have to take it upon
themselves to change them.
Payne stares at him. Spartan's sincere. Payne lets his
gun drop. The others follow.
HUXLEY
(shocked)
John Spartan, you must uphold the
law.
A good-looking woman of about fifty looks up from the
edge of the crowd with sudden interest at the mention of
Spartan's name.
SPARTAN
It's the old story, give up a
little freedom for a little
safety and soon you have no
freedom and no safety.
PAYNE
You're a pretty wise man.
SPARTAN
Nah, I'm just fifty years out of
date. But I do have another
question.
(off Payne's tacit
approval)
We're looking for a guy. Black
skin, white hair, one blue eye,
bad attitude. He's from my time,
and if I don't find him, we're
all in trouble.
Payne hasn't. Looks to the others.
TOUGH SCRAP
(nods to Payne)
Scoped him yesterday.
GARCIA
(amazed)
You were right...
VIEW FROM DISTANCE
Suddenly, the viewer is pulled out for a long view of
Spartan talking to Payne. Then one, two, three, four,
five, six bodies step INTO the F.G. Simon and his goons
walking down the street.
SIMON
can't believe his good luck. He chuckles.
PHOENIX
You know, I musta done something
right in a previous life.
(thinks; this seems
really unlikely)
Don't know what that coulda been...
He turns and quietly starts dispensing instructions to
the cryocons.
BACK TO SCENE
The woman who looked up with such interest, steps over
closer. She's got to know.
KATHERINE
John Spartan? The Demolition Man?
SPARTAN
Yeah...
(surprised; looks at
this older woman)
Do I know you?
She's shaken, a tear rolls down her cheek. She brushes
it away. Doesn't know how to react... Neither does he
as --
KATHERINE
You did. I'm your daughter.
He wraps his arms around her, she him as well.
SPARTAN
Katie, my little Katie...
KATHERINE
Little Kate, I'm older than you...
SPARTAN
You'll always be my little girl,
I don't care how old you are.
(steps back)
God, Katie. You're all grown up.
I missed your whole life. I
missed everything.
KATHERINE
Mom and I always talked about
you. I always hoped I would see
you one day. I knew I would.
He holds her at arm's length admiring her. Then ---
SPARTAN
Tell me everything. I want to
know everything about you...
KATHERINE
(laughing; it's fifty
years)
Everything? All at once?
Spartan's grin, though it seems impossible, gets wider.
He kisses her on the forehead. Holds her back out at
arm's length, just looking at her with this great big
smile...
SPARTAN
Yes. Absolutely everything.
Start where I left off. You were
six...
GARCIA
Spartan.
Spartan's busy.
GARCIA
Spartan...
(as Spartan ignores
him; still busy)
Spar...
SPARTAN
What!
Garcia can only point: Simon Phoenix, forty feet away,
giant grin, AcMag in hand, taking aim.
Spartan hurls Katherine to the ground, with himself as a
shield as ---
SPARTAN
Get down!!!
Huxley, Garcia, and the Scraps who have a clue dive as
the ACMAG FIRES with the resulting tremendous EXPLOSION.
PHOENIX
Spartan, buddy, I brought some
old friends.
The Cryocons OPEN UP with all manner of WEAPONRY on the
crowd. Mayhem and slaughter. Huxley and Garcia have
taken cover as well. Their stun batons look exceedingly
useless. Spartan is momentarily trapped under a
collapsed beam. Doesn't last long. Growls. Hurls it
aside. Comes up FIRING with the BERETTA.
SPARTAN
Stay down!
Phoenix FIRES again. The AcMag round barely misses them.
Spartan's blasted brutally by the EXPLOSION. Stays on his
feet. Keeps FIRING. Albert goes down. He's not going
to get back up again. Payne rises to his feet FIRING a
giant REVOLVER. The other armed Scraps follow his lead.
Another AcMag ROUND GOES OFF. The lights dim. Spartan
sprints for where he last saw Phoenix.
Spartan can hear Phoenix CLATTERING off up a culvert
behind him. He bolts up after him.
INT. WASTELAND - CULVERT - NIGHT
It forks upwards. Sixty degree incline. Flattens out.
Splits again. Spartan halts, listens. Follows the
FOOTSTEPS. Same trick works backwards, as Phoenix stops
dead, hears Spartan COMING. FIRES the ACMAG. Misses as
Spartan is just about to round a bend into range.
The CULVERT itself EXPLODES, blowing shrapnel everywhere.
Fifteen feet of it are gone. It's an ugly, ugly jump.
Two hundred feet down and no room to miss. Off to one
side, one of the fans spins madly. Spartan leaps. Hits
the other side, grasping at shards of metal. Pulls
himself in. It heads back up.
Spartan ascends. Up. Up. Now almost, and then
completely vertical. He climbs spread-eagled after
Simon.
INT. WASTELAND - CROSS PIPE - NIGHT
The pipe "T"s at the top. Spartan mantles up as Phoenix
CLATTERS off. Down below in the pipe, the sound of
SOMEONE ELSE FOLLOWING as well. A gasketed porthole
glints beside Spartan, he slams it open. Looking down,
he is a hundred yards above the cavern floor. Beside
him the chain arcing up from the machine shop below
ratchets around a joint and heads off into the darkness
in the direction Phoenix has fled.
Half a beat. Spartan reaches out, way out, and just
manages to snag the chain. Hauls madly. CHAIN CLATTERS
and CLATTERS. Half a beat. A long, low RUMBLE.
Phoenix stops a moment, wondering what the hell it is. A
giant blast of water tidals through the pipe. The AcMag
is swept away.
Spartan looks up to see Phoenix and a wall of water
headed his way.
SPARTAN
Oh shit.
Simon smashes into him. The two are swept along. The
force blows them off the side.
PHOENIX
Just go with the flow, Spartan.
INT. WASTELAND CORRUGATED CONDUIT - NIGHT
Spartan and Phoenix are carried along by the water into
an aqueduct. Phoenix heaves himself over the side.
Spartan follows.
INT. WASTELAND - LARGE CAVERN/SUPPORT GRID - NIGHT
Every Scrap can see. The two hang on a suspension grid
of an old rusty rebar, directly over one of the WHIRRING
VENTILATOR FANS. It's not meant to take any weight.
Slippery as hell from the spray above. The REBAR CREAKS
and MOANS.
No one dares move. Below, Charlie lies dead. No other
cryocons can be seen.
Spartan and Phoenix scrabble madly, yet in slow motion
as not to break the old joints as they stay on. Hand
over hand, Phoenix makes his way along as ---
PHOENIX
Hey, since we're just hanging out,
I have to tell you something --
remember those muni passengers
you blew to pieces trying to
catch me...? They were already
dead, pal, before you even
touched the building. Cold as
Haagen Dazs.
(Simon grins his
scary grin)
See ya...
Simon swings himself back and forth, gaining momentum.
The rebar's about to give as he launches himself out
into space, just clearing the fan. A wild twisting
fall ending in a CLANGOROUS landing through three levels
of Scrap lean-tos.
Spartan feels the rebar starting to fail around him. As
he tries to haul himself up, it just gives way more. The
whole fan structure is giving way. BITS of METAL fall,
hit the fan and are sent CLANGING off into space.
And then... it gets worse. A NOISE from above. Beppo
appears. Hangs from a firm support. He begins to stomp
on Spartan's fingers. Laughing wildly.
Spartan moves, he stomps them again. Spartan moves
again, but this time seeing a heavier piece of rebar
nearby. Snags it. And as Beppo's foot comes down again,
grabs it. Hauls. Beppo starts to scream. His grip
comes loose on the wet bar above. Screams past Spartan
as he falls. There's a tremendous CUISINART SOUND.
Blood flies up past Spartan as he climbs up to safety.
He moves down the grid past the fan. Sees below as
Phoenix scrambles to his feet, starts to run. Spartan
doesn't want to do it. No choice. Growls. Leaps.
Falls. Falls. Falls. Smashes into a garbage heap.
INT. WASTELAND - LARGE CAVERN - FLOOR - NIGHT
Simon pounds a rushing up Garcia unconscious in a single
blow. Recovers and empties a TOMMY GUN at the crowd.
Scraps crawl for cover. Payne and two others FIRE back.
Phoenix disappears. Spartan blitzkriegs out of the
refuse. Crazed.
Spartan stampedes away.
INT. WASTELAND - UNDERGROUND STREET - NIGHT
Knocked to the ground before her burrito stand, the Old
Woman points inside the square room.
Spartan comes in low, gun out, ready to fire. No one
there. Spartan pivots into the square space, looking all
around. Then up. An open trapdoor. Spartan peers in.
ELEVATOR SHAFT
A humongous steelwalled vertical shaft which rises up
into the blackness. The Old Woman's cubbyhole is really
a huge freight elevator. Phoenix is climbing up a cable
with speedy precision.
BURRITO JOINT
Spartan drops down with a gleam.
SPARTAN
There's an elevator shaft on top
of this place...
HUXLEY
Then does that mean this place
is...
Spartan looks around, tearing old travel posters off the
wall. Reveals a panel. Large up/down handle.
HUXLEY
Going up?
SPARTAN
(looking off; with a
sudden grin)
Momentito, Senorita Huxley.
INT. 2042 GM DEALERSHIP - NIGHT
Shoppers wander about admiring the cars. Half a beat.
The ELEVATOR can be heard SCREECHING upward. And then a
CRUNCHING stop. The floor begins to buckle. Customers
flee in terror. The VROOM of an ENGINE can be heard.
The FLOOR CRACKS asunder. The freight elevator emerges.
A 2042 model is tossed aside as the elevator rises from
the floor.
The Wasteland Pontiac GTO convertible is jamparked in
burrito joint crunching the place's chairs in a heap.
Driver Spartan REVS the ENGINE as passenger Lenina
shudders about what is to happen next.
HUXLEY
Now what?
SPARTAN
Vaya con dios.
Spartan drops the GTO into gear. ROARS the CAR straight
out the front window of the dealership.
EXT. TACO BELL - COURTYARD - NIGHT
A maintenance hatch in the ground rises open. Phoenix
scrambles out. Exhausted, greasy, dripping with sweat.
At the far end of the courtyard, he sees ---
Lamb keeping watch on the entrance. A giant puff of
smoke has come billowing out. Lamb looks seriously
concerned. And at the same time kinda pleased.
LAMB
Yeah, the Demo Man is back.
Lamb bends over to look. As he does, we see a figure
approaching from behind. Simon Phoenix.
PHOENIX
So am I. Rookie.
Phoenix digs out a .22. SHOOTS him repeatedly in the
stomach.
LAMB
Phoenix... you're still... one
ugly sonofabitch.
PHOENIX
You shouldn't have said that, now
I'm going to have to kill you...
Ah damn, I forgot, I already did.
Lamb drops to the ground.
PONTIAC GTO
Tears along, divoting up the pristine 2042 green, the
car flinging a solar tower in its path to the ground,
generally leaving trouble in its wake. Spartan sees,
in the extreme distance, Phoenix dashing from Lamb's
crumpled body and the stolen police car pulling away.
SPARTAN
Lamb!
Spartan GUNS the GTO, SCREAMS it across, SKIDS to a halt.
Leaps out. It's too late. Lamb is dead. There's a half
a beat with his dead friend.
HUXLEY
I empathize with your loss.
Spartan looks up and growls. Strides to the GTO. Huxley
jumps in beside. He floors it. Huxley's head flies back
against her seat. The GTO THUNDERS out onto a shiny new
San Angeles boulevard.
EXT. SOME OTHER SAN ANGELES STREET - NIGHT
The GTO CRUSHES a computer kiosk as it ROARS onto the
street, aggressively PLOWING through the gentle user-
friendly cars on the road in its terrifying pursuit of
Phoenix and Lamb's stolen police car.
Spartan FIRES out the window at the wildly fishtailing
Phoenix, but the angle's just wrong. Can't see and
drive and aim.
SPARTAN
Fuck it.
Pulls the gun back in. One hand on the wheel, Spartan
straight-arms the Beretta and aims through his own wind-
shield. It's like a video game. Phoenix's fishtailing
brings him into the sights. Spartan FIRES. His own
windshield SHATTERS. Blows into glass pebbles all
around them.
INT. STOLEN POLICE CAR - NIGHT
The bullet rips against Phoenix's neck.
PHOENIX
Motherfucker!
Phoenix FIRES a wild salvo back emptying three or four
different handguns. SHATTERING the grill, BLOWING out
what remains of the glass in the GTO.
EXT. SOME OTHER SAN ANGELES STREET - NIGHT
Spartan FIRES two rounds at each of Phoenix's rear tires,
cleanly puncturing each. The car swerves and fishtails.
INT. STOLEN POLICE CAR - NIGHT
Phoenix struggles to control the car.
PHOENIX
Auto-inflate!
Suddenly the two TIRES reinflate with a WHOOSH and the
car is back on a straight course.
INT. GTO - NIGHT
Spartan grunts in frustration.
SPARTAN
Damn! Take over!
HUXLEY
What?!
Spartan yanks her into the driver's seat and rises,
standing out through the missing windshield. Huxley
barely holds onto the steering wheel and the car wildly
swerves.
SPARTAN
Drive!
HUXLEY
So what, I just push this pedal...
EXT. SOME OTHER SAN ANGELES STREET - NIGHT
She FLOORS the GAS and the GTO BURNS RUBBER, PEELING down
the street. Spartan is thrown back against the roof of
the car, manages to hang on. He opens FIRE on Phoenix's
car. Perforating it, blowing off side mirrors, generally
making a mess of it as Phoenix weaves wildly back and
forth trying to shake them off.
INT. STOLEN POLICE CAR - NIGHT
Phoenix looks in the rearview and clicks into a means-
business mode.
PHOENIX
Computer: velocity control
override!
COMPUTER (V.O.)
State the nature of the emergency.
PHOENIX
Arson.
(as car picks up a
little speed)
Armed robbery!
(as more speed; not
enough)
No, it's murder! An entire
family is being robbed in a
burning building and they're all
getting killed.
The car SCREECHES its TIRES in acceleration.
INT. GTO - NIGHT
Spartan watches the car jet ahead at an amazing clip.
HUXLEY
He's accessed velocity override!
SPARTAN
Don't worry. Punch it.
EXT. SOME OTHER SAN ANGELES STREET - NIGHT
Lenina really GUNS the GTO and races up on Phoenix's
rear. Spartan teeters out of the car to get a clear
shot.
SPARTAN
Whoa, whoa, slow down!
But Lenina rams the car. Spartan flies off the GTO and
lands on the back of Phoenix's car. The BERETTA flies
from his grasp. CLATTERS away on the road behind.
INT. STOLEN POLICE CAR - NIGHT
Phoenix turns around to see Spartan hanging on. He
shoves a MACHINE PISTOL out his open side window and
FIRES back at Spartan.
EXT. SOME OTHER SAN ANGELES STREET - NIGHT
Spartan ducks back from Phoenix's stream of bullets.
Smashes the machine gun against the car, knocking it
from Phoenix's grasp. Just manages to trap it against
the side of the car as it falls. Snatches it up, lifts
it up to take aim as ---
INT. STOLEN POLICE CAR - NIGHT
Phoenix shouts at the car ---
PHOENIX
Open doors! Emergency!
EXT. SOME OTHER SAN ANGELES STREET - NIGHT
Both gull wing doors slam open. The gun is bashed from
Spartan's hand. Spartan himself is smashed from one door
to the other on the roof of the car. A hundred miles per
hour and nothing to grab onto. He starts to slide off.
Completely aerodynamic.
Grabs onto a door. Shoves a shoulder underneath as ---
PHOENIX
Close doors.
The right hand door slams shut. The left hand door
crushes against Spartan. The MECHANISM GROANS. Spartan
growls back. Spartan and the door strain against each
other. The man wins. Wrenches the door clean off.
Jumps in the car. Punches Phoenix square in the head.
Phoenix is knocked to his side. Sidekicks Spartan dead
in the groin. Spartan folds.
Phoenix leaps back up, triple-punches Spartan in the
chest. Spartan's hands come free, he falls back, as
Phoenix jumps on him and slams his head repeatedly
against the hundred mile an hour ground rushing by as
the car drives itself.
Spartan continues to fight back, smashing Phoenix, but
he's forced to avoid the close calls with cars, street
signs and the like. Finally, Phoenix grabs Spartan's
throat and holds him down in the road where an upcoming
futuristic fire hydrant is about to tear his head off.
Spartan sees it coming, has no choice. Lets go. Phoenix
thinks he's rid of him.
No. Spartan slides free for a moment on the road and
barely manages to hook a hand on the open door frame.
Shirt three-quarters torn off, blood streaming, he climbs
onto the back of the car. Brutally punches his hand
through what remains of the back window.
Phoenix screams in rage as Spartan's hand comes at him
and grabs him by the hair, yanking Phoenix's head back.
PHOENIX
Computer! Disengage Auxilliary
Battery Pod now!
Spartan freaks as the back of the car suddenly separates
from the rest of the car. It shoots rearward while the
cab with Phoenix drops a third wheel in back and shoots
off. Spartan, hanging on for dear life, turns to see him
and the pod are jetting backwards for the front of a
truly massive freight truck. Four full trailers behind
a massive cab. The thing's gotta be eighty feet long.
It's more of a locomotive than a truck.
The burly TRUCKER also freaks when he sees he will impact
with Spartan. At the last moment Spartan leaps off the
pod.
Phoenix sees the truck collide with the pod, BLASTING it
to smithereens. He laughs as he enters a long tunnel.
INT. LONG TUNNEL - NIGHT
The Truck Driver is stunned and scared as he enters the
tunnel but gets another scare as Spartan suddenly pops
up at his door.
SPARTAN
Move over!
TRUCK DRIVER
Oh dear! Don't hurt me, please
don't hurt me!
Spartan pushes the burly Trucker over and climbs into
the driver's seat. The Trucker takes one look at this
mad man and decides his fate is safer elsewhere. Leaps
from the truck. Lands safely in some shrubbery. Sobs.
Spartan GUNS the massive TRUCK.
Phoenix thinks everything is A-okay until he looks in his
rearview and sees a bunch of streetlights being taken out
by the too huge truck and getting closer. The truck
harshly rams Phoenix, nearly jarring him from his seat
but for the restraints.
EXT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT
The truck and Phoenix's car ROAR out of the tunnel and
move straight for the police station. The truck smashes
him again. Phoenix's steering wheel locks up and his
seat restraint pops up as he races out of control for the
station. He screams in rage.
Spartan slams on the truck brakes, smokes, slips, slides,
into the most horrific jackknife ever seen. All four
trailers lock up and accordian in on him.
Phoenix's vehicle slaps the street curb and begins to
roll, convulsing into a spectacularly flaming series of
somersaults that violently climax at the base of the
SAPD sign in front of the station.
Half a beat.
A charring Phoenix bursts from the vehicle, sees the
approaching, out of control truck and turns and runs
like hell.
The truck slides in a full, unstoppable quadruple jack-
knife towards the police station.
Spartan tries one last ditch attempt to bailout, but
his door won't open, forced in by the first trailer bent
over from the force of those behind.
The truck hits the curb, flips, collapses and plows into
the police station.
INT. TRUCK CAB - NIGHT
BLOOOOOFFF. SecuroFoam EXPLODES from nozzles everywhere.
INT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT
What few cops there are flee in all directions... The
truck followed by four trailers wipes out the station.
Flames, ARCING POWER CABLES, EXPLOSIONS. Demolition.
EXT. POLICE STATION - AFTERMATH - NIGHT
Fire drones fight the blaze. The cab of the truck, a
door torn off, lies askew. It's entirely filled with
dense, solid foam. Half a beat... It CRACKS open,
Spartan appears tearing giant hunks of foam away. Eyes
wild.
Earle stands, mouth agape, staring at the destruction.
Spartan's reappearance doesn't make him feel any better.
EARLE
You... You... Menace!
SPARTAN
Yeah.
Huxley comes running up from the GTO.
HUXLEY
John Spartan, I thought your life
force had been prematurely
terminated. Look at you, you're
in shambles.
SPARTAN
(still tearing off
foam)
Thought I was fucked this time too.
(re: his torn uniform)
Don't worry. I can fix this later.
All I need's a needle and thread.
Spartan looks around, turns to Earle.
SPARTAN
I need something, anything, a
shotgun, a flare gun...
(looks up)
Holy shit...
Earle and Huxley follow his glance. Coming across the
green, a horde of Scraps, armed to the teeth, carrying
the dead cryocons on two litters, and emerging from
their midst beside Payne, Alfredo Garcia.
EARLE
(mustering command)
Stun batons on!
Spartan gives him a look, are you out of your mind?
Huxley ignores him completely as well. Moves to Garcia.
SPARTAN
You get a bump on the noggin and
you're Pancho Villa.
GARCIA
Who?
SPARTAN
Never mind.
(to Payne)
Loan me a gun. Loan me two guns.
Payne thinks about it for a half second. Hands his gun
over, nods to someone else as well to follow suit.
Spartan straps on two guns and a giant ammo belt .
SPARTAN
What else you got?
The Scraps unearth half-a-dozen large explosive devices.
Spartan loads them into the GTO. Earle is ready to cry
when he sees all this. A catastrophe averted, but --
EARLE
You would have used these weapons
of mass destruction against the
men and women who upheld the law?!
PAYNE
We would have used these weapons
to shop for groceries.
Half a beat. Earle gets it. There's kids in this crowd.
And a lot of hungry people.
PAYNE
Look, Chief, I've had it with being
a criminal. I'm not a criminal.
Think of me more as the head of the
people's militia. We're gonna go
dump the tea in the harbor, ya
know?
EARLE
That's good, cause tea contains
caffeine.
Spartan looks at him.
SPARTAN
You're joking again, right?
(as Earle nods)
Grin or something afterwards,
people don't know.
Earle nods seriously. Spartan steps over to the dead
guys on the litters, pulls back a sheet. He stares at
the first guy. Can't believe what he sees...
HUXLEY
Who are these swarthy strangers?
SPARTAN
(stunned; checks the
second)
I know these guys. I arrested them
years ago... Albert Collins, 22
known murders. Beppo Zemoto, I
don't even want to talk about what
he did. And they're out. There
were more too...
HUXLEY
(proud of him)
I once checked, prior to your
arrest, 45 out of 200 members of
the multilife sentence wing of
the cryoprison were your arrests.
SPARTAN
Right now, that's not a very
reassuring statistic...
KATHERINE (O.S.)
Hey. Dad.
Spartan turns, faces his daughter.
KATHERINE
Here. You gave me this.
She holds out a tarnished barely recognizable gold LAPD
shield on a chain. Drapes it over his neck. She hugs
him.
KATHERINE
Don't get killed. Maybe we'll
get to know each other.
SPARTAN
That'd be good.
KATHERINE
I didn't tell you I loved you.
He smiles at her gently. Forty-two years of pain washing
clean --
SPARTAN
You don't have to.
It hits her hard. This is her dad. Spartan gets in the
GTO. Huxley gets in beside him. Looks at her. Thinks
about it. She'll do as a partner... FIRES the GTO UP.
The thing's a bomb on wheels now.
HUXLEY
Don't hit anything.
SPARTAN
Whattya mean? I'm an excellent
driver.
As he goes SQUEALING OUT, clipping and KNOCKING OVER the
one remaining WALL of the police station --
INT. COCTEAU'S OFFICE - NIGHT
Cocteau, Bob, Simon and the remaining cryocons are there
listening to Cocteau warble on --
COCTEAU
I wasn't counting on this, but I
must say you've worked out
beautifully. People are terrified
of you.
PHOENIX
(don't flatter me)
Ah, people have always been
terrified of me.
Cocteau continues his eerie soliloquy, feeding Phoenix's
amusement. Phoenix walks behind him under this, takes out
a knife and behind Raymond's back, tries desperately to
kill him. He can't.
COCTEAU
But this time they're truly scared.
Soon they'll want to take the next
step -- security cameras in every
room, stricter alarm systems against
misbehavior, anonymous hotlines to
their neighbor's infractions...
(gloating)
I'll have carte blanche now to
create the perfect society.
Everyone will want it. An enzyme
injection for all citizens that
will insure everyone has the same
I.Q., the same weight, and the
same desire to think only happy
thoughts.
Phoenix is back where Cocteau can see him --
PHOENIX
I'm pretty happy now. I think I'll
pass on that shot.
Phoenix steps off to one side, pulls an old Airweight out
of his belt. Aims it at Cocteau, tries, tries to pull
the trigger. Isn't going to happen. He grunts in
frustration.
COCTEAU
(lost in his
own reverie)
Other cities will follow. San
Angeles will be a beacon of order
with the purity of an ant colony
and the beauty of a flawless pearl.
PHOENIX
Nah. You can't take away people's
right to be assholes.
(then; it's been
bothering him)
That's it, that's who you remind
me of -- an evil Mr. Rogers.
Cocteau smiles. Simon tosses the gun to Elvin.
PHOENIX
You try to kill him. This is
beginning to piss me off.
Elvin empties all six shots into Cocteau's very surprised
face.
Associate Bob looks on from the corner. A little
frightened, but not giving a shit about Cocteau.
PHOENIX
So what shall I do with you, Bob?
ASSOCIATE BOB
I am an excellent associate, sir.
I could work for you.
(off Phoenix's doubt
of this)
Dr. Cocteau actually had me
endocrinecologically altered to
never wish to be anything but
an associate.
PHOENIX
What??
ASSOCIATE BOB
I believe the slang that would best
express it across our chronological
gap, sir, would be that he -- cut
my balls off.
PHOENIX
Literally?
Bob nods; Simon claps him on the shoulder.
PHOENIX
Bob, it's a sign of weakness to cut
the balls off the people who work
for you. I'm gonna get you a new
set.
ASSOCIATE BOB
Why, thank you, sir.
PHOENIX
Can we do that now?
Bob nods.
PHOENIX
I'm gonna get a couple extra
myself. Not that I need 'em. But
just for spares...
ASSOCIATE BOB
If I could interrupt...
Phoenix looks at him; this is not a good way to start...
ASSOCIATE BOB
But the police are here.
OUT WINDOW
some ten stories down. Sure enough Spartan and Huxley
are exiting the GTO.
BACK IN OFFICE
PHOENIX
I'm gonna need to defrost more
guys, Bob. Lots more guys. Can
you do that?
ASSOCIATE BOB
Indubitably. But the computer
codes will have to emanate from
this office. We will need a few
moments here before fleeing.
(sits at keyboard;
types away madly)
I might suggest that the, uh,
large gentlemen might be
considered, ah...
(sotto)
...disposable. Especially with
rather large supply forthcoming.
Perhaps they could be sent to
welcome Mr. Spartan. If they
succeed, so much the better, if
not, they will at least hinder
his progress?
PHOENIX
I like you, Bob. You have no
heart.
(then)
Guys, John Spartan's on his way.
Go downstairs. Kill him.
DANZIG
Over and over and over...
They leave.
PHOENIX
Now, really, violent evil multi-
lifers. I want guys who
understand that crimes come in
bunches. Not just a sporadic bit
of violence or law breaking here
and there. I want guys who've
been on killing sprees before.
Men who've crossed state lines
with impunity! Do you understand
me, Bob?
ASSOCIATE BOB
(still typing madly)
Perfectly, sir.
PHOENIX
I'm gonna like running this place.
INT. COCTEAU COMPLEX - COCTEAU LOBBY - NIGHT
The elevator slides open. Danzig, Elvin and Francis
spray it with GUNFIRE. It's empty. Spartan and Huxley
slip in through a side door around the corner.
SPARTAN
Old trick.
HUXLEY
Old criminals.
He looks at her. She's a little cocky. Spartan steps
out into the hall. Sees a giant shadow.
SPARTAN
Elvin!
Elvin steps out. Spartan SHOOTS him through the chest.
SPARTAN
Thought it was you.
Danzig and Francis look a touch more concerned. They
split up.
Spartan moves cautiously down the hall. Huxley a pace or
two behind. High above in an overly futuristic frieze
looking much the modern gargoyle, is Danzig. Grins.
Dives on Spartan.
Spartan is slammed to the ground. We can feel the breath
knocked out of him. Tussles with Danzig as ---
Huxley pulls out her stun baton. Pokes at them, pulls
back, pokes again -- unable with the twisting, turning
struggling bodies to be sure she won't get Spartan.
And misses the fact that Francis is coming up from
behind. He slaps the baton out of her hand. Grabs
her around the neck, lifts her in the air. Begins to
strangle her to death. She kicks and claws at him
without effect.
Spartan's still busy with Danzig. She starts to choke.
Francis brings her closer to watch her die. A beat of
this, and Huxley reaches down and yanks the GUN out of
his belt and SHOOTS him repeatedly.
Half a beat later, Spartan finishes with Danzig. The
CRRRUNNNCH of his BACK breaking.
Huxley's in a state of shock.
HUXLEY
This man has died at my hands. I
have taken all his future from
him...
SPARTAN
Him or you, Huxley.
HUXLEY
(somewhat mollified)
There is that.
INT. COCTEAU'S OFFICE - NIGHT
Spartan bursts in, gun drawn. No one's there. Spins,
checks everywhere. Spots a very dead Raymond Cocteau.
Huxley sees him a moment later.
HUXLEY
Horrors. Oh horrors. Sic
Transit Raymond Cocteau. Oh, John
Spartan, civilization as we know
it will come to an end.
SPARTAN
It does that every once in a
while.
The computer screen catches Spartan's eye.
SPARTAN
What's this?
HUXLEY
(checks it out)
Ooh. This is bad. Very bad.
(as Spartan looks
over her shoulder)
He's accessed the cryoprison.
He's about to defrost the entire
multilifer wing.
(beat)
Most of them don't like you.
SPARTAN
Most of them didn't even like
their mothers. These are bad
people.
(then)
How many?
HUXLEY
Eighty.
SPARTAN
(beat; dry)
We have to stop that.
INT. COCTEAU COMPLEX - COCTEAU LOBBY - NIGHT
On the run, stepping over dead cryocons. Huxley keys
her BadgeRadio ---
HUXLEY
All units, all units.
ProtectServe Cryoprison. Simon
Phoenix assumed to be en route.
(lifts the send
button)
Should I announce the demise of
Doctor Raymond Cocteau?
SPARTAN
Nah. I think we're gonna cause
enough panic on our own.
EXT. CRYO PRISON - NIGHT
Prison is ringed by a high circular fence. Giant stainless
steel gates in front of the prison, a la the Federal
Reserve, are shut tight. A dozen futuristic squad cars
strobe the area in red and blue. The GTO RUMBLES up.
Spartan gets out. Huxley follows suit.
GARCIA
He's inside already. And it's
completely sealed.
Spartan takes only the briefest reconnaissance look
around. Shakes his head sadly ---
SPARTAN
This is crime against nature...
Leans into the GTO. Pushes in the cigarette lighter.
Puts it into neutral. Wedges the accelerator down. The
GTO BELLOWS. The cigarette lighter pops out and Spartan
uses it to light the fuses on the explosive devices.
Drops the car into gear. Pulls his head out just in time
as it ROARS off.
The GTO SMASHES into the front GATES. Wedges itself in
from the impact. Half a beat later, a long, low,
THUNDEROUS EXPLOSION. Smoke everywhere. Smoke clears...
It ain't much, but a man can get through now. Spartan
loads the spent cartridges in the guns from his ammo
belt. Huxley double-checks her stun baton.
HUXLEY
(nervous as hell)
Okay, look, I wasn't at all pleased
to cause the fatality of that
deranged cryocon, but I understand
now that sometimes under
particular circumstances that
violence is necessary...
SPARTAN
Good.
Takes the stun baton from her and nails her with it mid-
sternum.
SPARTAN
Then you'll understand this.
She falls into Garcia's arms.
SPARTAN
Hang on to her. See she doesn't
get herself into trouble.
GARCIA
You too.
SPARTAN
Yeah.
Spartan turns, starts towards the Cryo prison. As he
walks --- Takes a deep breath. Loosens up his right
shoulder. Loosens up his left. Checks the gun on his
right hip. Checks the gun on his left. They're both
set to cross draw. Steps through the breach.
INT. CRYO PRISON - OUTER THAWING ROOM - NIGHT
A frenzy of activity. Simon, Associate Bob, Techs
everywhere...
ASSOCIATE BOB
Doctor Cocteau would want every
bit of haste from you!
(sotto to Simon)
If he was still extant that is.
Seventy pucks are stacked and loaded to be defrosted.
Med Techs scramble furiously.
INT. CRYO PRISON - INNER THAWING ROOM - NIGHT
Four pucks are being rapidly removed from around the
cryocons inside by the cutting lasers. They go blue.
INT. CRYO PRISON - OUTER THAWING ROOM - NIGHT
The inner room splits open and the Med Techs rush in to
the four thawed cryocons as Associate Bob steps away from
a VidScreen with some concern ---
ASSOCIATE BOB
There's been a breach in the outer
gate. An intruder has entered the
CryoFacility and I feel it's safe
to assume it's John Spartan.
Phoenix is momentarily taken aback by Spartan's relent-
lessness. Then he looks at his four new recruits.
They're still kinda dopey. Turns to a Med Tech ---
PHOENIX
Got some really wild uppers?
Speed, crank, amphetamines?
Anything?
MED TECH
(a little confused,
but...)
We have pure megadrenalin, sir.
PHOENIX
Good. Whack these guys with it.
A bunch.
He does. They come wildly awake, GUNTHER, HOWIE,
IGNATIOUS, and JED. Eyes wide, jittery, completely
cranked. Phoenix keeps it simple ---
PHOENIX
Hey wake up. Good. Listen to
me. You've just been defrosted.
It's the future. John Spartan is
out those doors.
(a beat; he smokes;
this should be fun)
Go kill him.
Gunther lets out the kind of scream the NFL would be
proud of. Charges out the door, others behind him.
INT. CRYO PRISON - LOBBY - NIGHT
A reception desk. A Chaplain's office. A BE Well bas
relief. Very quiet, very still.
Spartan moves cautiously through. A tiny rotating sensor
picks up his presence. Locks on. As Spartan is looking
the other way. Dr. Raymond Cocteau, in holo, suddenly
appears in front of the display.
COCTEAU (IMAGE)
Greetings, and BE well.
He never gets to say another word. Spartan spins and
ventilates the device with 40 mm slugs.
Half a beat. Realizes what he's done. In the next
moment, four insane megadrenalized cryocons come
screaming through the door. Barehanded, barefooted.
Spartan SHOOTS the first two out of hand, without a
thought. But before he can fire again, the second two
are on him.
One gun goes flying. Spartan beats on Howie with his
free hand. Ignacious fights for control of his gun
hand.
Spartan bashes Howie back for a moment, continues to
tussle with Ignacious. Finally, he's had enough --
SPARTAN
Fine. Take it.
He lets go of the gun. Ignacious grabs it and, still in
shock over this turn of events, begins to fumble with
it. Spartan reaches up with both hands and breaks
his neck.
Howie leaps on him from behind, trying to do the same
to Spartan. Spartan squat presses down with this three
hundred pound behemoth wrapped around his neck, retrieves
the GUN out of Ignacious's stiffening fingers. Turns
the barrel around towards himself. Howie reaches
desperately, but it's just out of reach. Spartan
FIRES over his shoulder. Howie, or what's left of him,
slides away...
INT. CRYO PRISON - OUTER THAWING ROOM - NIGHT
Med Techs scramble furiously. Phoenix grabs the glowing
CompuClipboard from Bob.
PHOENIX
So, who's left that's good?
Ooooh, Ramon Gutieriz? We
gotta get him.
He's like a kid at FAO Schwartz.
PHOENIX
Come on...
Simon jumps onto one of the cranes with a six clawed
arm. Stands at the controls.
PHOENIX
Go...
It does. Moves too. Bob has to trot to keep up.
INT. CRYO PRISON - STARK WHITE CORRIDOR - NIGHT
A pair of double doors slip silently open. Spartan, a
gun in each hand, slides in. He is back in the stark
white corridor where he once said good-bye to his wife
and daughter. Looks at the empty alcove. It gives him
the creeps. He makes his way to the door at the far end,
and steps in --
INT. CRYO PRISON - MAIN ROOM - NIGHT
Spartan prowls through the now depleted multilifer wing.
Empty pods everywhere.
The displays all read: CRYO PRISONER EXITED. Yeeesh.
There's a lot of them that way. A WHIR, followed by
TROTTING FOOTSTEPS.
Spartan whirls. A crane WHIRRING by and Associate Bob
trotting behind. Spartan follows. Creeps slowly
around the corner. GUNS up... Comes around a turn to
spot Phoenix locking the arm into a puck. Takes aim.
Phoenix sees him at the same time. Yanks a control on
the crane. The puck pivots up as Spartan FIRES.
The 40mm bullet lodges half in, half out of the puck in
front of Phoenix's grinning face.
PHOENIX
Don't you understand the meaning
of give up? You're too late,
John. I've got three more batches
in the oven.
Spartan FIRES again. The puck barely vibrates. Absorbs
another round beside the unharmed cryocon.
Phoenix unleashes an entire magazine from an HK91 slung
over his back. Spartan FIRES once, dives for cover.
Although unhit, he gets seriously frosted from a pipe
blow open next to him. Forced to roll through the line
of fire to avoid permanent freezer burn. There are
pipes burst everywhere.
Phoenix turns to find Bob slinking away.
PHOENIX
Where the fuck you going?
ASSOCIATE BOB
I wish you good luck, sir. This
is an activity that requires
testicles.
PHOENIX
(considers)
True 'nuf.
Ice is beginning to form on the surface of everything
nearby.
PHOENIX
Take those stairs, I'll cover
you.
Bob nods gratefully. Does. Phoenix shakes his head at
Bob's gullibility.
PHOENIX
(sotto; to himself)
No brains either.
Spartan hears FOOTSTEPS coming. Whirls. FIRES. Blows
Bob away. A momentary distraction, but it's enough.
Phoenix is gone.
Spartan turns slowly. Guns out in each direction.
Searching. A sound. FIRES. No Simon. More PIPES
BURST. It's ten or twenty degrees below zero in there
already. Everything is coated with supercooled ice.
Footing becomes treacherous.
Phoenix crawls through a jungle of pipe. Gets a bead on
Spartan's lower body. Starts to strafe the area. Dh uh.
Everything has become so slick, the recoil drives him back
across the ice into the open. Spartan sees him, FIRES.
The recoil slams him back against a wall. He FIRES again
with something firm to lean on, but the recoil from
Phoenix's sputtering weapon drives him right over the
edge. He drops off into the center out of Spartan's
sight. Slipping and sliding, Spartan slithers down the
stairs to --
MAIN LEVEL
A familiar WHIRRING. Turns. Half a beat later he is
bodyslammed and smashed and grabbed by a six-armed crane.
His guns go flying, off into God knows where...
Spartan is hoisted high in air, smashed again and again
against a pillar. Phoenix slams him through a web of
pipes. Holds him in the freezing blast. Ice forms all
over Spartan. He struggles. It cracks off, reforms.
Struggles again. It cracks off. Reforms. Struggles
again. He's weakening.
Reaches up. Grabs the pipe, wrests it over, directs
the blast at Phoenix. Holds it steady. Phoenix is
frozen in place. Coats in ice. We can see the madness
in his eyes. Everything else is still. He roars,
breaks free. Retreats from the blast. Disappears as --
Spartan wrenches the pipe over to the claw arm. Holds
it directly over one joint. Then clobbers it with
the pipe. It SHATTERS. He drops.
LIGHTS are beginning to EXPLODE from the cold. It's
dropped 30 degrees below zero in there by now. Spartan
spots Phoenix on the far side of the room. Hundred feet
away.
Half a moment to catch his breath in the freezing
cold, leans on exposed cryopuck. It slides effortlessly.
Spartan hurls it across the floor at Phoenix. A five
hundred pound hockey puck. Phoenix barely avoids the
crushing blow. It rebounds back off the steel...
No point fighting the elements. Spartan hurls himself
across the floor. Spins slowly twice along the way.
It's like zero grav in two dimensions. No friction
coefficient at all.
Three quarters of a second across the floor. Right
hook into Phoenix's surprised face.
Phoenix goes flying a hundred feet back into the far
side. Crashes and falls.
The CRYO PRISON CREAKS and SCREAMS in protest from the
cold. LIGHTING, grids, struts SHATTER, fall about them.
They hurl themselves together again. Spartan lands a
horrific blow. All but drives Phoenix's nose and eye
sockets through the back of his head. Spartan's
forearm is terribly cut.
The blood freezes solid as it sprays, sealing the wound,
and leaving a giant six foot red feather spray. Spartan
brushes it away, breaks off, bleeds, freezes again
instantly.
They fly apart again. Spartan comes to a stop near a
tool cart. Pokes at the tools. One is an MTL cutting
laser. He has no idea what it is. Nothing there he
recognizes. Picks up a four foot wrench. That, he
recognizes. He looks like a caveman. A very angry
caveman.
The building complains loudly. Falling apart around
them. More and more PIPES EXPLODE, BURST, it gets colder
and colder. 50 degrees below by now.
Phoenix, on the far side, also scrambles for a weapon.
He sees an MTL as well, but he knows what it is.
FIRES it up. Focused three inch cutting beam comes
out. Rips off the top cover, pulls out five optical
elements, pulls out the choke tube, rips the whole
front off the MTL. Doesn't look very sleek now.
FIRES it.
A thirty foot long spray of white white magnesium-
thermite flame comes flying out.
One swipe, he clears the ice from a path he can walk
towards Spartan on.
Metal bars melt away as the thermite flare crosses
through them.
On the top level of the cryo prison, the first batch
of raving psychopath defrosted cryocons wanders in
to watch John Spartan die.
This is the most depraved, frightening-looking group of
individuals you've ever seen in your life.
ANGRY CRYOCON
Spartan!!!
MANY ANGRY CRYOCONS
Kill him!! Kill him!!!!!
Spartan looks up at them. Like he needs this shit...
Simon continues to melt himself a path across the floor
towards Spartan.
The heat from the MTL is furious. The difference between
the 2000 degrees plus and 80 degrees below is more than
any metal can handle. Fissures appear in giant lightning
strike cracks in all directions where the MTL hits.
Every bit of ice in the building melts. Water boiling
away instantaneously in the path of the MTL.
Spartan has nowhere to run. And nothing but a big
fucking club. To his left he suddenly sees an empty
chamber. Except this one was never filled. The display
reads: READY FOR CRYO.
There's a tiny white chip in the vial inside the vacuum
bell. Spartan looks at it. It's like a very bad memory
coming back. But he knows what it is and knows what it
does. Smashes the vacuum bell with the wrench.
Simon grows closer.
Spartan bashes the robot arm out of the way. Picks
up the vial. Looks around desperately. No point using
it if it's going to kill him too. Grabs the grid of
the floor above him. Heaves himself up.
Simon lifts the MTL towards him. It almost reaches
up to the landing above. Spartan hurls the VIAL at
Simon's feet.
It SHATTERS. Nothing happens. The heat from the MTL
has boiled off all the water in a ten foot circle nearby.
The MTL flame comes closer. In a moment Spartan will
get cooked. Instead of running away, he moves closer.
Stands up on the railing of the second landing. And
just as his clothes begin to catch fire from the heat,
leaps --
Over the oncoming thermal flame as it arcs up towards
him. And over and past Phoenix.
Spartan lands behind him, coming around with an elbow
into Phoenix's kidney, causing Phoenix to drop the MTL.
Outside their circle of heat, the tiny chip hits the
water. Melts. And again, like the opposite of watching
ice shatter, the water everywhere goes steel solid,
stuttering out in all directions.
Phoenix still has a free hand. Smashes a nerve center
on the side of Spartan's neck. Spartan twitches visibly
from it. Grunts.
Spartan punches him right, left, right in the sternum.
Phoenix coughs blood, spits it away.
Steps back to launch a mighty blow at Spartan and --
His heel just steps into a puddle of water. The tiniest
rivulet drifts over, connects it to the main ice solid
locked water.
Simon feels his foot stuck. And as he looks down in
consternation, realizes in shock what's happened and
then looks up, Spartan hits him straight from the
shoulder with everything he has left, dead in the face,
as Phoenix solidifies.
Phoenix's head snaps clean off.
Hits, like a ball bearing on polished steel. Bounces
with a CLANG. Rolls off. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG,
CLANG.
Spartan reaches desperately for the still spewing MTL
as the rivulets close in towards him.
Grabs onto it just in time. Spins, melts off a
protective circle around him.
Looks up at the peanut gallery of cryocons.
SPARTAN
All right, who's next???
Nobody moves. Nobody can move. Every last one is
dead. Frozen in place.
The building continues to collapse around Spartan. More
LIGHTS BLOW OUT. A giant beam comes crashing down.
SPARTAN
(a massive
understatement)
I think it's time to go.
Carefully melting a path to the door, Spartan comes
through --
INT. CRYO PRISON - STARK WHITE CORRIDOR - NIGHT
MTL still blazing, the hall bursts into flame around him
as he leaves. He takes no chances. Continues to melt
and burn his way out.
EXT. CRYO PRISON - NIGHT
Outside the building, but still inside the gate. Spartan
pauses, still holding the flaming MTL, thinks about it a
sec, torches the rest of the whole evil fucking place.
GATE
As Spartan steps through, the MTL sputters to a halt.
He tosses it aside. The cryo prison burns, explodes,
freezes, contracts, expands behind him.
A far greater crowd has gathered. Police, citizens,
Scraps. They watch in silent awe and shock as Spartan
re-emerges. Katherine walks up. Deadpan as her
father --
KATHERINE
Good to see you again, Dad.
(kisses him on
the cheek)
Come by sometime for dinner.
(re: the
destruction)
I'll cook.
He kisses her back on the cheek. She smiles, they
hug. Lenina watches from nearby.
HUXLEY
That was it? That's the whole
kissing thing? What was Cocteau
so worried about?
Spartan grabs her. Lays a real kiss on her. Long and
hard. She comes up for air, gasping, eyes shiny.
HUXLEY
Oh. My.
(then)
Is the rest of fluid transfer
activities like this?
SPARTAN
(beat; dry)
Better.
HUXLEY
(beat)
Better??! Oh. My.
She kisses him. Long and hard. Breaks.
HUXLEY
Welcome to the future, John
Spartan. Now that you've
destroyed everything.
He throws an arm over her shoulder. They turn and walk
away. They head off into the sunrise...
SPARTAN
Yeah, I think I'm gonna like it
here.
(a beat; then)
There's one thing I want to
know though. How does that
damn three seashells thing
work?
And as the MUSIC COMES UP and obscures her explanation
we --
FADE OUT.
THE END