Title: PAGE ONE
Author: Warren Ellis
Company: Warren Ellis Scriptwriting

FELL

1

WARREN ELLIS

FELL © Warren Ellis & Ben Templesmith 2005

PAGE ONE

Pic 1
All the pages are built on a nine-panel grid.  Because they scare me.  And one of the kinds of establishing shot we're going to do, I'm going to call the PHOTO ESTABLISH.

Take one whole tier of the nine-pic-grid.  On the left hand side of the grid, you have the image itself, in a frame, the size of two pics in the tier.  So that's two thirds of the tier.  In the dead space that's left, we put a yellow post-it note, with something scribbled on it, and that scribbled note is the caption.  Imagine the photo's stuck on a wall, and the post-it note is stuck next to the photo to remind the owner of what it is.  Yeah? Okay, me too, but I thought we'd try it.  We'll try other things too.

And this, then, is the first PHOTO ESTABLISH: the most sinister, grey, awful five-floor tenement building you ever saw, under dull daylight.

CAPTION	MY NEW HOME.  I THINK MAYBE A LOT OF PEOPLE KILLED THEMSELVES HERE.

Pic 2
And from here, we go into the bottom six panels of the grid.

INT. APARTMENT: RICHARD FELL looking out the uncurtained window of the unfurnished apartment, his back to us.  I'm trying not to type Flat. Apartment = Flat.  Do you say Flat in Australia too?  Anyway, he's standing there, and a withered little woman REALTOR is standing on profile to his side, holding a bunch of keys.

FELL				CAN I MOVE MY STUFF IN TONIGHT?

REALTOR	GIMME THE MONEY, YOU CAN DO WHAT YOU LIKE WITH IT.

REALTOR	IF YOU'RE GONNA SHOOT PORNO, DON'T CLOG THE DRAINS.

Pic 3
Cut to: FELL, locking the door of his new place, APT 5B according to what's daubed on the door in orange paint.  He looks over his shoulder as someone speaks.  (NOTE: there’s a paperback in his pocket.)

FROM OFF			CLEAR THE WAY, BUDDY.  COMING THROUGH.

Pic 4;
Two ambulance men are wheeling a gurney out of a door across the hall, where a sour WOMAN in her fifties stands, smoking.  There's a body on the gurney, but a sheet is pulled over it.

WOMAN			HE JUST DROPPED DEAD.  REALLY.

Continued over page

Page ONE continued

Pic 5;
Fell walks to the gurney, makes a face.  

FELL				YOU SMELL THAT?

AMBULANCE GUY		WHAT?  WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?

FELL	SORRY.  DETECTIVE RICHARD FELL, JUST TRANSFERRED IN FROM OVER THE BRIDGE.

Pic 6;
He pulls back the sheet, leaning in and making a face.  The guy, also in his fifties, appears to have died in unspeakable agony.

FELL				JESUS.

AMBULANCE GUY	YEAH.  HE DIDN’T GO EASY.  SO?

FELL				SO I CAN SMELL WHISKY.  BUT IT'S NOT...

Pic 7
The wife is defensive, one arm folded across her and the other holding his cigarette up close to her lips.  Fell looks across at her, as she stands in her open door.

WIFE				HE WAS AN ALCOHOLIC SON OF A BITCH.

WIFE	SATAN'S GOING TO BE HUMPING HIM RIGHT IN THE BUNGHOLE FOR THE NEXT MILLION YEARS, YOU MARK MY WORDS.

WIFE				I LOVE JESUS.

PAGE TWO

Pic 1;
Over her shoulder: there's a kitchen counter just inside the door, and there are booze bottles (all wine) and tubes on it.  And two big empty bottles of whiskey.  I have a ref photo.

(no dialogue)

Pic 2;
She steps behind the door, scowling out at us as she closes it.

WIFE				QUIT YOUR NOSING.

FELL (OFF)	COME DOWN TO THE STATION LATER SO WE CAN TIDY THIS UP FOR YOU?

WIFE				MAYBE.  DEVIL COP.

Pic 3;
The ambulance guy grins.  Fell, facing us, not sure what just happened, runs his hand through his hair.

FELL				DEVIL COP.  I AM DEVIL COP NOW.

AMBULANCE GUY		YOU WANT TO SNIFF DEAD GUY SOME MORE, OR...?

FELL	OH, GOD, I'M SORRY, YEAH, TAKE HIM.  TELL THE CORONER TO CALL THE HOMICIDE DESK?

Pic 4;
EXT. APARTMENT: Fell comes out of his front door, towards us – the top of his car in the foreground, he’s walking towards it.  On the right of the door (that’s our right, the right-hand part of the panel), we can see part of something we’re going to be seeing a lot of: THE SNOWTOWN TAG.  

It’s got to be pretty simple – and you’ll see why later in the script, I don’t want to give it away right now because I want you to have a reader’s experience off this script, first time through.  I’m thinking that if you take an X and superimpose a S on top of it, that’s the basis of the tag design.

(no dialogue)

Pic 5;
And he stops (put him on the hard left of the panel), turns his head to look at the tag, which we can now see in full, scrawled on the building’s wall there.

(no dialogue)

Continued over page

Page TWO continued

Pic 6;
And as he walks around the car, his back to us (keeping him and a piece of the car in shot) we see something on the opposite side of the street.  A NUN.  Five feet tall, at best.  Kind of an odd face, though we can’t see it clearly at this point…

(no dialogue)

Pic 7;
Fell looks up, brow furrowing… 

(no dialogue)

Pic 8;
And we close on the Nun.  Who is wearing a full-face plastic Richard Nixon mask.  Can’t even see her eyes.  There’s a little hole in the mouth of the mask.  Her wizened old-lady paw brings a cigarette up to it.

(no dialogue)

Pic 9:
He gets into his car, rattled.  Be nice if we could still get part of the nun in this shot, just standing there staring at him… whack this panel out to bleed at right and bottom, if you like…

(no dialogue)

PAGE THREE

Pic 1;
PHOTO ESTABLISH: Ext. MOON STREET PRECINCT HOUSE, the police station he's going to work out of.  Here's a good weird cop shop – 

http://www.nyc.gov/html/lpc/html/designation/summaries/tenderloin_large.html

Might be a good ref?  Get a street sign into the shot, clearly reading MOON.

CAPTION	MOON ST. PRECINCT HOUSE - WHERE I WORK NOW.  IT SMELLS LIKE A LEPER'S CESSPIT.

Pic 2;
And cut to: him on the street outside, taking a photo of it/us.  He enjoys taking photos, you can see it in his crooked smile.

(no dialogue)

Pic 3;
FLASHBACK IMAGE: to when he was a boy.  A POV shot of an older man standing in front of us, so tall to our eyes that the top border of the frame cuts off his head and shoulders, and his big hands hold an old Polaroid camera in them.  Hairy hands, a wedding ring and another big ring, a big metal-band watch.  It occurs to me that, since it's a flashback, you can render this panel any way you like to differentiate it from the rest.  Do it in a childlike style?  Collage?  I don't give a fuck.  Exaggerate the size of his dad?  I know that when I was a kid, my dad seemed huge, and I associated things like big hairy arms, his big metal watch, with adulthood.  

US/OFF			I LOVE YOUR CAMERA, POP.

POP				ME TOO.  THE CAMERA NEVER LIES, SON.

Pic 4;
INT: HOMICIDE OFFICE: Which we'll establish in a minute, but first we're meeting the Lieutenant of detectives for this precinct, the cadaverous, grey, badly-ageing Lt. BEARD.  He’s grey, his hair is going grey, his eyes are grey, his suit and shirt and tie are grey, his skin is grey.  He looks dead, frankly.  In this image – he’s sitting at a desk, looking up at us, and the only colour in him is the red rimming around his eyes.  He’s clearly been crying.

FROM OFF;			LT.  BEARD?

BEARD			I’M NOT CRYING.

Continued over page

Page THREE continued

Pic 5
He stands up, weakly extends a hand for Fell to shake.

FELL	I’M DETECTIVE FELL. WE SPOKE ON THE PHONE YESTERDAY?

BEARD			YES.  WELCOME TO THE MOON, DETECTIVE.

BEARD	MILES FROM ANYWHERE, COLDER THAN ESKIMO NIPPLES, AND IF YOU BREATHE IN, YOU DIE.

Pic 6;
Okay: they’re inside the LT’s office, which is adjacent to the homicide bullpen space.  The office has big windows, we see a few desks out there, empty, as Beard gestures at them.

BEARD	YOU WANT A DESK?  PICK ONE.  YOU WANT TO WORK FROM A BAR?  I DON'T CARE.

BEARD	HERE'S THE THING.  I HAVE EXACTLY THREE AND A HALF DETECTIVES TO COVER THE ENTIRE PRECINCT.

FELL				THREE AND A HALF?

Pic 7
Beard rubs his face, a doomed look in his eyes.

BEARD	OWLSLEY HAS NO LEGS.  AND MY PRECINCT IS THE WHOLE OF SNOWTOWN.  THIS ENTIRE FERAL LITTLE CITY.

BEARD	SO, YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON'T CARE HOW YOU DO YOUR JOB.

PAGE FOUR

Pic 1;
He stands up, leaning precariously over his little desk to peer at FELL.

BEARD	THAT'S ABOVE AND BEYOND YOUR APPARENT LITTLE UNDERSTANDING WITH THE COMMISSIONER.

BEARD	WORKING WITHOUT A PARTNER?  I DON'T CARE.  HAVE IT YOUR OWN WAY.

Pic 2;
FLASHBACK IMAGE: An older, BLACK MAN in a hospital bed, a camera to his eye and pointing at us.

BLACK MAN        	YOUNG GUYS LIKE YOU, RICH, YOU THINK YOU'LL REMEMBER EVERYTHING.

BLACK MAN        	TOMORROW, I WON'T EVEN REMEMBER YOU CAME TO VISIT ME, PARTNER.

Pic 3;
CUT TO: Beard facing us, unsteady, hands on his desk, attempting a weak, sad, pathetic little smile.

BEARD	YOU SEE, WE CANNOT WIN.  WE ARE IN HELL, YOU AND I.

BEARD	AND I THINK YOU WERE PROBABLY TRANSFERRED HERE SO THAT I DIDN'T DIE ALONE.

BEARD	AND I'M GRATEFUL FOR THAT.  I THINK WE WILL BE FRIENDS.

Pic 4;
And collapses back into his chair.

BEARD			I HAVE TO TAKE QUITE A LOT OF PILLS NOW.  

Pic 5;
CUT TO: Fell speaking to the desk clerk for the section, seated at a desk by the door and typing, not looking at him.  Her name is VIOLET, though we don’t learn it for a while.  She’s gorgeous.  Looks like Bettie Page.  Floral 50s dress and a little cardigan.

FELL				I DON'T GO ON DUTY UNTIL TOMORROW, BUT -- 

VIOLET			I DON'T CARE.  MY HUSBAND LEFT ME.

Continued over page

Page FOUR continued

Pic 6
From behind her bowed head, we see Fell kinda rub the back of his neck, uncomfortable.

FELL				OH, HELL, I'M SORRY.

VIOLET			FOR THE DOG.

Pic 7;
Violet still doesn’t look up at Fell, but she stops typing, and her red-fingernailed hands twist into claws of frustration.

FELL (OFF)			…FOR THE DOG.

VIOLET			THAT BITCH.

VIOLET	THAT PAMPERED WHORE, WITH HER FUR AND HER PRETTY LITTLE NAILS.  

Pic 8;
She starts stabbing at the keys again, hunched over.  FELL, wincing, turns towards us, starting to walk away.

VIOLET	AREN'T MY NAILS PRETTY ENOUGH?  DIDN'T I WEAR THE SUIT FOR HIM?

FELL	...I'M GOING FOR A DRINK.  YOU'VE GOT MY CELLPHONE NUMBER, RIGHT?

Pic 9
Fell walks away towards us, with a just stunned look on his face, like he’s been slapped right in the chops with a frying pan.  It’s one of those days.

VIOLET (OFF)			MY THROAT IS RAW FROM THE BARKING.

FELL				RIGHT.

PAGE FIVE

Pic 1
PHOTO ESTABLISH:  EXT. IDIOT'S BAR.   It was renamed Idiot's after the previous owner won it in a bet from the original owner.  Which 
you probably didn't need to know, but if I don't write it down I'll forget it.  It’s… I dunno.  It’s a bar.  Make something up.

CAPTION			OH THANK GOD

Pic 2;
INT BAR: MAYKO, wiping down the countertop with a wet cloth.  Mid-twenties, Vietnamese by extraction, very attractive, shoulder-length dark hair, unbuttoned black shirt thrown over a vest-top, black jeans.  I think maybe a scroll-like tattoo design on her collarbones, mjaybe roses and thorned twisted stems all in black and red… anyway, visible tattoo up there somewhere.  She owns the bar, she’s a regular character, and she looks at us with a crooked smile.

MAYKO			COP?

Pic 3;
Fell’s at the bar, and you can see he’s groaning.

FELL				CHRIST, IS IT THAT OBVIOUS?

MAYKO	I'VE GOT EXPERIENCE.  BUT I HAVE TO SAY, IT'S NOT OFTEN I GET COPS IN HERE.

FELL				I JUST MOVED IN AROUND THE CORNER.

Pic 4
He sits at the counter – takes the paperback out of his jacket pocket.

MAYKO			YOU'RE FROM OVER THE BRIDGE.

FELL	YEAH.  NEVER EVEN BEEN TO SNOWTOWN, AND NOW I'M WORKING HERE.

Pic 5;
Paperback on the counter – it’s called NLP: READING MINDS – he points at a beer tap as she grabs a pint glass.

MAYKO			IN AT THE DEEP END?

FELL	NAH.  I WAS ON THE MAJOR CRIME SQUAD, BACK OVER THE BRIDGE.  SNOWTOWN HOMICIDE’S UNDER STRENGTH, I JUST GOT MOVED TO MAKE THE NUMBERS UP.

Continued over page

Page FIVE continued

Pic 6;
She hands him his beer, smiling wryly.

MAYKO			SOUNDS LIKE A STEP DOWN.

FELL	YES AND NO.  IF YOU'RE AFTER PROMOTION, THIS IS A GREAT POSTING.

FELL	A TOWN WITH THIS FEW DETECTIVES, A GOOD ONE STANDS OUT A MILE.

Pic 7;
She looks at him, thinking.  Odd gesture with her hands – she rubs the finger an engagement ring would go on – but there’s no ring on that finger.

MAYKO			AND ARE YOU A GOOD DETECTIVE?

FELL				I DO OKAY.

MAYKO			GO ON, I'M CURIOUS.  WHAT MAKES YOU GOOD?

FELL				GOD, I DUNNO.   I JUST LOOK FOR STUFF.

PAGE SIX

Pic 1;
Close on him, as he considers his beer.

FELL				EVERYBODY'S HIDING SOMETHING.

Pic 2;
And he looks up at Mayko, who frowns.

FELL				YOUR DAD LEFT YOU THIS BAR?

MAYKO			WHOA.  WHAT?

Pic 3;
She looks behind her, at the bar, as Fell points.

FELL	DUSTY OLD FOOTBALL PICTURES.  THE FAMILY PHOTOS ARE BLACK AND WHITE.  

FELL	THE ONLY DUSTED PHOTO IS THAT ONE, THE OLD VIETNAMESE GUY IN THE BLACK FRAME.

Pic 4:
And Mayko looks down at her hands.

FELL	AND THE KIND OF BARSTAFF THAT COVERS A QUIET AFTERNOON DOESN'T WIPE STUFF DOWN AS CAREFULLY AS YOU DO.

FELL	AND YOU'VE BEEN DUMPED BY YOUR FIANCEE -- WHO IS OBVIOUSLY INSANE -- AND YOU'VE BEEN TAKING MEDS TO DEAL.

Pic 5
Fell drinks the top off his pint.

MAYKO	GOD DAMN.  YOU EXPLAIN THAT, OR I’M GOING TO THINK THIS IS A STUNT.

FELL	THE RING.  YOU’RE STILL NOT USED TO IT NOT BEING THERE.

Pic 6;
He folds his arms on the bar by his pint, smiles.  Not a snotty smile, not triumphant.  Kind of tired, soft smile.

FELL				AND YOUR EYES ARE A LITTLE GLASSY.  DIAZEPAM?

FELL				SORRY.  I’M RICH.

Continued over page
Page SIX continued

Pic 7;
She gives him a puzzled smile.

MAYKO			MAYKO.  

MAYKO			YOU’RE STRANGE, RICH.

Pic 8
Rich gives a crooked smile, looks down.  Mayko points over the bar, at something behind Rich.

FELL				SO I’VE BEEN TOLD.

MAYKO			OKAY, SUPERCOP.  WHAT ABOUT HER?

FELL				OH, GOD, NOW YOU’RE TESTING ME…

Pic 9
Sitting on her own in the back of the bar: a GIRL, maybe 20, quite pretty, long blonde hair, jeans, heavy coat on the seat next to her, t-shirt, a few empty glasses and one full one on her table.  Overstuffed holdall at her feet.  Holding a little gold necklace in her hand and staring at it, dead-eyed.

(no dialogue)

PAGE SEVEN

Pic 1;
Rich turns around to face her/us, Mayko leaning over the bar, her chin propped in her hand.

MAYKO			I KNOW WHAT I MAKE OF HER.  HOW ABOUT YOU?

FELL	C’MON, YOU RUN A BAR, YOU’RE BOUND TO BE BETTER AT THIS THAN I AM…

MAYKO				GO ON.  I’M INTERESTED.

Pic 2
We're actually cutting the frame in half, down the middle.  Capturing two different aspects of the girl.  In this one, we can see a mass of old scarring down her forearm -- years ago, she spent a lot of time slashing across the top of her forearm, and now it's practically a stripe of scar tissue from wrist to elbow-crease.

(no dialogue)

Pic 3;
Other half of the frame: In this one, we see the necklace in her hand: it’s one of those name necklaces, spelling the name STACY.  Maybe you could do these two in pencil only?  Greyscale.

(no dialogue)

Pic 4;
Rich turns back to his pint, scowling.

FELL				I DON’T WANT TO PLAY.

MAYKO			SHE’S LEAVING HOME.

FELL	SHE WAS LEAVING HOME.  SHE HAD TWO DRINKS TOO MANY AND NOW SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO.

Pic 5;
Mayko raises an eyebrow.

MAYKO			SHE’S BEEN DUMPED BY HER BOYFRIEND.

FELL				COULD BE.  IT’S PRETTY BAD FOR HER.

FELL	SHE USED TO CUT HERSELF.  THINKING ABOUT STARTING AGAIN.

Continued over page

Page SEVEN continued

Pic 6;
Rich sinks about half his pint.

FELL	AND SHE’S UNDERAGE.  DON’T GIVE HER ANY MORE TO DRINK.

MAYKO	SOMETIMES, FOR SOME PEOPLE, SEEING SOME BLOOD CAN MAKE THINGS BETTER.

FELL	THAT WHAT WORKED FOR YOU?

Pic 7;
She rolls up one sleeve – to show long scars on the inside of her forearm.  Looking at him, eyes narrowed.  Like she’s working him out.

MAYKO			YOU LIKE DOING THAT, DON'T YOU?

FELL				WHAT?

MAYKO	BEING ABLE TO READ PEOPLE.  LIKE IT'S A LITTLE BIT OF CONTROL.

Pic 8
He plonks the empty glass down, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, looking at her unhappily.

FELL				BULLSHIT.  IT'S JUST THE JOB.

MAYKO	IT'S THE PART OF THE JOB YOU LIKE.  THE PART YOU'RE GOOD AT.

FELL				I’M SORRY, OKAY?   IT’S BEEN A WEIRD DAY.

Pic 9
She rolls her sleeve back up.  He watches.

MAYKO			MY BOYFRIEND HATED THESE.

FELL				I DON'T.

Pic 10
She cocks her head to one side.  Deciding something about him.

MAYKO			I GET OFF AT SIX.  WANT TO STICK AROUND?

PAGE EIGHT

Pic 1;
CUT TO: Fell and Mayko walking down the street away from us, reeling a little.

FELL				JESUS, I'M HALF-SMASHED ALREADY.

MAYKO	MY PLACE IS ONLY A BLOCK AWAY.  WE'LL FINISH YOU OFF THERE.

FELL				HEH.

Pic 2
CUT TO: A scrap of city map.  Three blocks.  On the block on the left, on the northern end, is an X with the scrawled note MY PLACE.  On the block in the middle, on the southern stretch, is another X with the note IDIOT'S.  On the one of the right, somewhere on a middle stretch, is an X marked MAYKO'S.

(no dialogue)

Pic 3
CUT TO: Fell and Mayko walking down the street -- and it's getting dark now -- and him pointing out the huge Snowtown tag on the wall they're passing.

FELL				WHAT IS THIS?  IT'S EVERYWHERE.

MAYKO	IT'S THE SNOWTOWN TAG.  

Pic 4;
She runs her hand over the tag, there on the wall.

MAYKO	YOU PUT IT UP, YOU BELONG TO SNOWTOWN.

MAYKO	IF SNOWTOWN KNOWS WHO YOU ARE, IT WON'T COME AND GET YOU.

Pic 5
Fell makes a face.

FELL				YOU'RE KIDDING ME.

MAYKO			IT'S WHAT THEY SAY.  PROTECTIVE MAGIC.

FELL				YOU INTO THAT?   BELIEVE THAT MAGIC STUFF?

Continued over page

Page EIGHT continued

Pic 6
She takes his hand and walks on, pulling him a bit.

MAYKO	YOU STAY IN SNOWTOWN LONG ENOUGH, YOU'LL BELIEVE ANYTHING.

Pic 7
CUT TO: INT. MAYKO'S PLACE: in a comfortable, messy living room, in chairs facing each other, drinking, both pretty trashed, holding glasses.  A few dead bottles on the low table between them.  There are going to be a ton of books, and stacks of CDs, in cheap shelves, in piles…

Knock the bottom row of panels together to make this, a big wide panel, whacked out to bleed at left, right and bottom.

MAYKO	THE THING IS... THE THING IS, THIS CITY'S JUST FALLEN APART.

FELL				YEAH.

MAYKO	FALLEN APART.  WHOLE CHUNKS OF SNOWTOWN, THE UTILITIES ASSHOLES JUST DON'T GO IN.

MAYKO	YOU KNOW, DOWN BY APRIL AND REGRET, THEY'RE HAVING TO USE A WELL FOR WATER?

PAGE NINE

Pic 1;
Fell rolls his eyes.

FELL				THERE'S NOT A REGRET STREET IN SNOWTOWN.

MAYKO			BET YOUR ASS THERE IS.

FELL				REGRET STREET.

Pic 2;
She smiles over her drink at him, wry.

MAYKO	THIS PLACE WAS BUILT BY MANIACS.  YOU SHOULD DO THE HISTORY.

MAYKO	S' WHY I'M SAYING.  THIS TOWN'S GONNA GETCHA.  YOU SHOULD GO BACK OVER THE BRIDGE.

Pic 3;
Drunkenly, he peers at the bottom of his glass, judging the last mouthful of booze.

FELL	SEE, I SEE THAT.  BUT I LIKE WORKING ALONE, AND I CAN DO THAT HERE.

FELL	AND I LIKE PEOPLE.  YOU KNOW?  I LIKE WORKING WITH PEOPLE.

MAYKO (OFF)			YOU LIKE MAKING PEOPLE TELL THE TRUTH.

Pic 4
She grins and points a drunken finger at him.

FELL (OFF)			NO, NO.

MAYKO	"EVERYBODY'S HIDING SOMETHING."  YOU LIKE BREAKING PEOPLE.  DON'T YOU?

MAYKO	GOOD FOR YOUR LITTLE EGO.  THIS TOWN'S GONNA KILL YOU, DETECTIVE.

Pic 5;
He lurches up out of his chair, smiling.

FELL	IF I DON'T TAKE A LITTLE PISS IT'S GONNA KILL ME.  DON'T GO AWAY.

Continued over page

Page NINE continued

Pic 6;
Mayko slumps down in her chair, suddenly looking very depressed.

MAYKO	IT'S GONNA KILL YOU UNLESS SOMEONE DOES SOMETHING.

Pic 7
Int. Bathroom -- bathroom cabinet mounted over the toilet, its door hanging open as he takes a piss.

(no dialogue)

Pic 8
He narrows his eyes to focus on us.  If you want to play with his environment here, to suggest general pissedupness, go right ahead.  Swirl things a bit, do the backgrounds in crayon, whatever… we were talking about a multimedia approach to this, so go for it, just lock it in by scene.  

(no dialogue)

Pic 9
In the cabinet -- Lithium, Ablify, Diazepam, among others and the usual bathroom stuff…

(no dialogue)

PAGE TEN

Pic 1;
Cut to: Mayko, flicking a lighter.  Her hair’s fallen over her eyes – we can’t really see her expression.  This is a trick the Japanese use, and it can be quite creepy, in combination with limp, dead body language, which you can do in Pic 5…

(no dialogue)

Pic 2
He comes out of the bathroom door, smiling, drunk…

(no dialogue)

Pic 3
And she appears from nowhere and sinks a branding on to his neck.  Made out of wire, a handle made out of duct tape.  Imagine something like a toothbrush in shape, where the stem of the brush is a length of wire, and it’s been bent around at the top to fashion the brand.  There’s a puff of smoke as it hits the side of his neck.

FELL				AAAAAA

Pic 4
He screams, frantically trying to bat her off.

FELL				AAAAAOWWWW!

Pic 5
She stands there, hair falling over her eyes, holding the red-hot makeshift branding iron, and her flaming lighter.

MAYKO			THERE.

MAYKO			THEY CAN'T GET YOU NOW.

Pic 6;
He's on the floor, hand to his neck, wide-eyed, agonised and totally fucking confused.

FELL				WHAT?

Pic 7
Page-wide pic, whacked out to bleed at bottom, left and right: Fell out on the street, and it’s night now, and he’s walking from left to right in front of us, a side view of him, pulled back.  Nothing but brick wall behind him.  His hand’s clamped to his neck, he’s drunk off his arse and in serious pain.

FELL	 			OF COURSE SHE’S CRAZY

FELL	WHY WOULD I THINK THAT ANY GIRL I MET WOULDN’T BE CRAZY			

PAGE ELEVEN

Pic 1;
And now he has to pull his cellphone out of his inside jacket pocket, pissed off.

FROM CELLPHONE		(THE CRAPPY RINGTONE THAT NOBODY ELSE USES)

Pic 2;
Grimacing as he brings the phone to his ear, on the branded side, by reflex.

PHONE			IS THAT DETECTIVE FELL?

FELL				I THINK SO.

PHONE			ARE YOU DRUNK?

Pic 3
Moving the phone to the other ear, scowling, still walking.

FELL				GOD, I HOPE SO.

PHONE			EXCELLENT.  I'M CALLING ABOUT YOUR BODY.

FELL	MY BODY'S A MESS.  AND I THINK I JUST GOT BRANDED.

Pic 4
Rubs his face, just utterly defeated now…

PHONE	THE BODY PICKED UP AT YOUR APARTMENT BUILDING, I BELIEVE.  I’M THE CORONER, YOUNG MAN.

FELL				OH.  YEAH.  RIGHT.

PHONE			THE BODY.  BLOOD ALCOHOL LEVEL OF 0.74.

Pic 5
FLASHBACK IMAGE: Page One, Pic 6.

VOICE (NO TAIL)		AND NONE ON HIS MOUTH.  WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

VOICE (NO TAIL)	IT MEANS HE INGESTED ENOUGH DRINK TO KILL TWO PEOPLE, BUT HE NEITHER DRANK NOR INJECTED IT.

VOICE (NO TAIL)		I LEAVE IT WITH YOU, DETECTIVE.

Continued over page

Page ELEVEN continued

Pic 6
He walks past an alley, putting the phone back in his pocket, and hears -- 

FROM ALLEY	I WANT YOUR STUFF AND I'M GONNA TAKE YOUR STUFF.

FROM ALLEY			YOU GET AWAY FROM ME --

FROM ALLEY	YOU WANT AN EXTRA MOUTH TO TALK YOUR TRASH FROM?  THAT WHAT YOU WANT?

Pic 7;
Int. Alleyway: a tall, crazy street guy waves a knife at the girl from the bar, who's clutching her big bag.

STREET GUY			I CAN'T HEAR YOU.  THAT WHAT YOU WANT?

STREET GUY			I'M GONNA CUT HOLES IN YOU AND BANG 'EM --

Pic 8
Fell moves into the alleyway,.  Not too steady on his feet.

FELL				HEY.  BACK THE HELL OFF.

STREET GUY			YOU KEEP WALKING, MISTER.   THIS AIN'T FOR YOU.

Pic 9
Fell stretches out one arm, putting his hand on the alleyway wall, to keep himself upright.

FELL				POLICE.

FELL				THROW THE GODDAMN KNIFE DOWN.

PAGE TWELVE

Pic 1
The street guy slashes out at Fell.

STREET GUY			YOU WANT SOME OF THIS?

FELL				GIMME THAT GODDAMN THING --

Pic 2
And slashes again, across FELL's chest, cutting his tie off, tearing his shirt and drawing blood.  Knock the last two frames in the tier into one panel.

(no dialogue)

Pic 3
Knock the first two pics in the tier together for this one.  Fell punches him in the face, but the street guy slashes again, across Fell's stomach, tearing the shirt and putting a deeper scratch in him.

STREET GUY;        		YOU'RE SLOW -- UNF

Pic 4;
And the girl kicks the street guy in the ass, which makes him lean back, straighten up…

GIRL				YOU BASTARD!

Pic 5;
Cut the bottom tier into two equal-sized pics.

Fell takes the moment – grabs the street guy by his lapels, or at least by the front of his clothes, and knees him in the nuts.

STREET GUY        		OOCH

Pic 6;
Grabs his hair, pulls his head down and knees him in the face

FELL				YOU LIVING FART

STREET GUY			GNAA	

PAGE THIRTEEN

Pic 1;
Fell turns around, the street guy’s knife now in his hand, and kicks his ass out of the alley.

FELL	I SEE YOU AGAIN AND I’LL SHOVE THIS UP YOUR ASS SO HARD IT’LL HIT YOU IN THE BACK OF THE TEETH!

Pic 2;
Fell slumps with his back to the wall (big Snowtown tag on the wall next to him), looking down at the mess he's in, gingerly touching the deeper scratch on his belly.  Blood over his shirt.

FELL				JESUS.

Pic 3;
He looks over and up at the tag.

FELL				I COULD LEARN TO HATE THIS TOWN.

Pic 4;
He looks over at the girl, who's just staring, clutching her bag.

FELL	AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HANGING AROUND IN ALLEYWAYS?

GIRL				I CAN'T GO HOME.

GIRL				MY DAD'S DEAD.

Pic 5;
He slides down the wall.

FELL				AH, HELL.  

FELL				WHAT HAPPENED?

Pic 6;
She sits down on the gravelly ground.

GIRL				HE DIED THIS MORNING.  DRINK.

GIRL	HE WAS A SCUMBAG, BUT HE WAS MY DAD, YOU KNOW?

Continued over page

Page THIRTEEN continued

Pic 7;
Fingers the necklace around her neck.

GIRL	MY MOM NEVER LAID A FINGER ON ME LIKE HE DID, BUT SHE'S LIKE A HUNDRED TIMES WORSE.

GIRL	HE MADE THIS FOR ME LAST BIRTHDAY.  SHE FORGOT IT.

FELL (OFF)			DRANK HIMSELF TO DEATH?

Pic 8
Draws her knees up and hugs them.  She suddenly looks very young.

GIRL	KINDA.  HE HAD A DRINK PROBLEM, BUT HE COULDN'T ACTUALLY DRINK.

GIRL	ULCERS AND THAT ACID REFLUX THING.  DRINK MADE HIM PUKE BLOOD.

Pic 9;
And something clicks in Fell’s head, you can see it.  His eyes narrow and focus.

GIRL (OFF)	HE DOES -- DID -- THIS THING WITH BAGS AND PIPES?  TO GET THE DRINK INTO HIM?  JUST WINE, NOTHING STRONG.

GIRL (OFF)	I SAW HIM DO IT WHEN I WAS A KID, BUT THE LAST FEW YEARS, HE WOULDN'T LET ME SEE.  I DON’T REMEMBER IT TOO WELL.

PAGE FOURTEEN

Pic 1;
REPEAT PAGE TWO Pic 1.

(no dialogue)

Pic 2;
Fell stands up, painfully.  She looks up at him, wide-eyed.

FELL				YOU LIVE AT 22 CLOCK, RIGHT?  APARTMENT 5D?

GIRL				HOW'D YOU KNOW THAT?

FELL	I LIVE NEXT DOOR.  AND YOU WERE GOING TO LEAVE, BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T LIVE WITH JUST YOUR MOM.

Pic 3;
He gets his cellphone out, face set.

FELL				I DON'T THINK YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO.

FELL				LET'S GO SEE YOUR MOM.

Pic 4;
EXT. FELL’S APT BUILDING: -- A POLICE CAR parked outside it.

VOICE (NO TAIL)		I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE HIDING.

Pic 5;
Fell stands in an apartment, blood all down his front, he hasn’t gotten changed.  Two uniformed cops standing behind him.

FELL				IT TOOK ME A WHILE.  BUT I WORKED IT OUT.

FELL	YOU WANT TO TELL ME, OR DO I HAVE TO DRAG IT OUT OF YOU IN FRONT OF YOUR KID?

Pic 6;
And the wife from the apartment across the hall from Fell’s place stands with her back to her kitchen counter, looking defiant.

WIFE				I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT.

FELL	YOUR HUSBAND.  HE HAD A DRINK PROBLEM, BUT DRINKING MADE HIM THROW UP.

Continued over page

Page FOURTEEN continued

Pic 7;
To one side, the girl scowls at her mother, hating.

FELL (OFF)	BEING GOOD WITH HIS HANDS, HE WORKED OUT A WAY TO GET THE ALCOHOL INTO HIS SYSTEM ANOTHER WAY.

FELL (OFF)	NOTHING TOO STRONG.  WINE.  JUST ENOUGH TO KEEP HIMSELF STRAIGHT.

Pic 8;
And Fell opens the cupboard nearest the front door, the one nearest the counter we saw the bottles and shit on at the start.  And sure enough, the pipes and bottles are in there.

FELL				WINE ENEMAS.

Pic 9
He stands, glares into the wife’s eyes.

FELL	AND SOME DAYS, HE WAS TOO MESSED UP TO DO IT HIMSELF.

FELL	HOW DID THAT MAKE YOU FEEL? HAVING TO SHOVE A PIPE UP YOUR HUSBAND'S ASS JUST SO HE COULD FEEL NORMAL.

PAGE FIFTEEN

Pic 1;
Moves closer to her.  She shows fear now, backs up.

FELL	SO MAYBE HE HAD A BAD MORNING. SHAKING, ANGRY, WEAK.

FELL				HE DIDN'T THREATEN YOU.  HE JUST PISSED YOU OFF.

FELL				SO YOU GAVE HIM HIS ENEMA.

Pic 2;
Cut to the cupboard: two empty bottles of shit-brand whisky, and a pipe with crusted blood on the end.

FELL (OFF)			BUT YOU GAVE HIM TWO BOTTLES OF SCOTCH.  

FELL (OFF)			KILLED HIM STONE DEAD.

Pic 3;
The wife looks to her child, plaintive.  The child wishes she could kill the mother with a look.

WIFE				I DID IT FOR YOU, HONEY.

GIRL				NO YOU DIDN'T.

WIFE				I DID.  HE WAS A BAD INFLUENCE.  HE BEAT YOU.

Pic 4;
The lips peel back from the girl’s teeth.

GIRL	YEAH.  HE BEAT ME.  AND WHEN I WAS SIXTEEN I BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF HIM WHILE YOU WERE OFF AT THE GODDAMN CHURCH.

GIRL	I HAVEN'T CUT MYSELF IN FOUR YEARS, MOM.  I'M HOLDING IT TOGETHER.

Pic 5;
Fell winces, looks away.

GIRL (OFF)	IF YOU WERE KILLING HIM FOR ME, YOU WOULD'VE DONE IT WHEN HE BROKE MY COLLARBONE THAT CHRISTMAS.

Continued over page

Page FIFTEEN continued

Pic 6
The wife turns and snarls at Fell.

WIFE				JESUS TOLD ME TO DO IT.

WIFE				NOW WHAT'RE YOU GONNA DO?

Pic 7;
Fell’s all out of energy.  Turns away.

FELL				GET YOU THE HELL AWAY FROM YOUR DAUGHTER.  

FELL				TAKE HER AWAY.

Pic 8;
The two cops pull the wife out the apartment door.

WIFE				DEVIL COP.

FELL (OFF)			EAT ME.

Pic 9;
The girl stands there, bag at her feet, wide-eyed.

GIRL				WHAT ABOUT ME?

PAGE SIXTEEN

Pic 1;
Fell finds a very tired smile from somewhere deep inside.

FELL	SELL EVERYTHING, MOVE OVER THE BRIDGE, HAVE FUN.

FELL				G’NIGHT.

Pic 2;
He goes out the door, pulling it shut behind him.

GIRL (OFF)			OH MY GOD.  REALLY?

FELL				REALLY.

FELL;				G’NIGHT.

Pic 3;
CUT TO; in his own apartment, lit by bare lights, still no furniture, he walks towards the window he first looked at, back on page one.  His back to us.

FELL				AH, HELL.

FELL				I NEVER GOT TO MOVE MY STUFF IN…

Pic 4;
He stands in the window, craning his head to one side, looking at his reflection in the windowglass.

(no dialogue)

Pic 5;
Reflected in the glass: we see the angry red brand on	his neck.  And it’s the Snowtown tag.

FELL				JESUS, MAYKO…

Pic 6;
Hangs his head.  Can’t help but smile.

(no dialogue)

Pic 7;
Page-wide panel, whacked out to bleed: we stand behind him as he spreads his arms, hands on the windowglass, and looks out at the city.

FELL				I GUESS I BELONG TO SNOWTOWN NOW.

-- end