FADE IN:

ROLL CREDITS OVER:

EXT. GOLF COURSE - DAWN

VARIOUS EXTRA CLOSE-UPS of this luxurious patchwork of 
brilliant greens:

A POLISHED BRASS SPRINKLER HEAD

pops up from the ground and begins to water the already dew-
soaked lawn.

FLEET OF DUCKLINGS

No mother in sight, cruise through the thrushes.

GRAVEYARD OF GOLF BALLS, UNDERWATER

At the bottom of a water hazard.

PALM FRONDS

After a neat they sway, revealing the barren desert that 
surrounds the artificial oasis. The sun already bakes the 
air. We hear the opening guitar strains of the Kim Deal-Kurt 
Cobain suet of "WHAT I DID FOR LOVE," as we CRANE DOWN the 
palms to

A BRAND-NEW TITLEIST 3 BALL.

Just on the edge of the rough. A pair of yellow trousers 
moves in. An iron confidently addresses the ball, and chips 
it out. The trousers walk out after it.

HANDS

Digging dirt out of the grooves of the iron's face with a 
golf tee, while on the way to the green. Both hands are 
gloved, instead of one, and the gloves are black.

YELLOW TROUSERS

In a squat over the ball, sizing up the curvy, fifty-foot 
journey to the hole. The figure positions himself and the 
putter above the ball, then pops the ball lightly. The ball 
rolls and bobs with purpose toward the hole, dodging hazards 
and finding lanes, until it finally falls off of the green 
and into the hole.

THE GLOVED HAND

Sets the ball on the next tee. The figure moves to a leather 
golf bag. The hands pull the wipe rag off of the top of the 
bag and drop it on the ground, reach into the bag, drawing 
out a compact SNIPER RIFLE, affixed with a long silencer. 
The figure drops one knee down onto the rag, the other foot 
firmly setting its spikes. We move the figure to see the 
face of the sniper, concentrating down the scope in his half-
squat. He is MARTIN BLANK.

We SWING AROUND behind his head to look down the barrel with 
him. Four-hundred yards away, on another part of the course, 
another green is barely visible through groves of trees and 
rough. Three miniscule, SILVER-HAIRED FIGURES come into view. 
One of them, in a RED SWEATER sets up for first putt. He 
could be an investment banker, or an arms trader.

MARTIN'S ARM

Flinches, and a low THUNK reports from the rifle. A second 
later in the distance, the

RED SWEATER'S HEAD

Seems to vanish from his shoulders into a crimson mist. His 
body crumples to the green.

MARTIN

Returns the rifle to the bag, pulls out a driver, moves to 
the tee and whacks the ball. He watches its path and whispers 
absently...

			  MARTIN
	Hooked it. 

INT. CLUB HOUSE PATIO - LATER

The outdoor post-golf luncheon area of an elite Texas golf 
club. Martin sits in on the fringes of a conversation between 
a group of executive types. CLUB MEMBER #1 has a Buddha-like 
peace in his eyes through the philosophical talk.

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	I'd come to the realization that 
	everything I'd based my life on was 
	false. And that my life had no 
	meaning.

			  CLUB MEMBER #2
		(to Martin)
	He gets this way when he hits over 
	eighty-five.

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	It seemed like my life was slipping 
	away, somehow. I was a knot in the 
	middle of a wet rope. Everything was 
	futile and nothing had value.

			  CLUB MEMBER #3
	That's the way life is. The only 
	meaning and value is what we create. 
	Through structure, and discipline. 
	Though they seem to limit our freedom, 
	they actually give us great comfort. 
	Your problem is you're looking for 
	some great answer. Some ultimate 
	truth. When what you really should 
	do is go to work and go home.

			  CLUB MEMBER #2
	And take golf lessons.

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	That's a tragedy. Can I finish my 
	story please? I began my search for 
	meaning. I was a Catholic, Jew, 
	Scientologist, Sufi, Buddhist. I 
	went to a Psychologist, psychiatrist, 
	herbalist, nutritionist, a shaman, 
	and a psychic. And they all pretty 
	much say the same stuff.

			  CLUB MEMBER #2
	A Jew, a shaman, and a herbalist are 
	telling you the same thing? You're 
	insane.

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	Basically the same thing. In a very 
	evolved, esoteric way.

			  CLUB MEMBER #2
	Insane.

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	To make a long story short...

			  CLUB MEMBER #3
	--Thank God--

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	...at last I found the holistic system 
	of systems that opened up the doors 
	of heaven for me right here on earth. 
	And everyday I see the world through 
	the eyes of a child. A world of 
	creation and wonder.

			  CLUB MEMBER #2
	Jesus...

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	Overflowing with love.

			  MARTIN
	Tell me about it.

Club Member #1 turns to Martin.

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	P.P.P. Personal Pan Power. All the 
	secrets of your universe are divided 
	up into eight easily digestible 
	slices.

Club Member #1 pulls a laminated card from his wallet and 
hands it over to Martin. In the distance, sirens begin to 
wail.

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	See, see. It's in the accessible and 
	everyday shape of a pan pizza. Each 
	day you have a little slice of 
	peace...

INSERT - WALLET-SIZE P.P.P. CARD

A pizza-shaped diagram showing six "sections".

			  MARTIN
	Oh I see. You got your individual 
	slices of hope, dignity, confidence, 
	self-love, justice, and harmony.

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	You open 'em up and there's the 
	sayings, stories, little bites of 
	insight. It's the P.P.P. Six Day 
	Week.

			  MARTIN
	So you eat-- read it everyday?

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	Yes.

			  MARTIN
	And these pan pizzas have opened up 
	the doors to heaven?

			  CLUB MEMBER #1
	Correct.
		(re: the card)
	That's for you. Keep it.

Sirens are getting louder, closer to the club.

EXT. COUNTRY CLUB - DAY

The source of the sirens are almost upon us. Martin walks 
toward his rented Town Car as the VALET pulls it up. He meets 
the Valet by the trunk, where he trades tip for keys.

			  MARTIN AT CAR
	He fishes out the laminated "Personal 
	Pan Power" card, looks at it, and 
	tosses it onto the ground. Police 
	cars, now visible in the distance, 
	wind into the long club driveway. 
	Martin gets into his car and pulls 
	away.

LAMINATED CARD

As it lays on the asphalt. The wheel of a police car rolls 
to a stop on it.

INT. AIRLINER - DAY

Martin sits in a first class seat, the tray table flipped 
down. On the left side of the tray is a stack of magazines 
of all kinds - Sports Illustrated, Mademoiselle, Wired, 
Rolling Stone, National Review, Spin, National Geographic, 
and on. He draws one off the top, and flips through it, 
impassively taking in images and reading nothing. When he is 
done with one, he discards it into the empty seat next to 
him and draws another-- Martin's way of instantly and 
massively uploading the world around him:

Toothless hockey player in triumph, Sony product parade, 
crouched starving child with vulture in the background, 
supermodel in suede, Tic Tacs, living former Presidents, arm 
in arm, smiling, etc.

INT. HIRED CAR, NEW YORK - DAY

The livery weaves out of the arrival lanes at Kennedy airport. 
Martin reclines in the back seat, a conversation having 
already begun.

			  DRIVER
	How was your day, today, sir?

			  MARTIN
	Effective. But to tell you the truth, 
	I've lost my passion for work.

			  DRIVER
	Do you like the people you work with?

			  MARTIN
	I work alone.

			  DRIVER
	That's it then. That's it. I've always 
	been alone. That's why I'm a good 
	driver. I can handle it. See, I can 
	think on my feet. I survive, I'm a 
	thinker. And I can sit there in front 
	of your house for two hours and it 
	don't bother me. Some people can't 
	do it! Some people are ranting and 
	raving, "Tell them fuckin' people to 
	get out here and get in this car, I 
	can't-- I want a go!" Where you gonna 
	go? You're gonna wind up back in 
	your garage at seven o'clock at night. 
	You ain't going nowhere. You leave 
	your house in the morning you get 
	back to your house in the evening. 
	What's the big deal, right?

			  MARTIN
	You understand the psychology of the 
	job.

			  DRIVER
	I do. Some guys can't adjust to it; 
	they can't handle it.

INT. CAR - MANHATTAN STREETS - LATER

The car cuts through the upper east side. Martin and the 
Driver exchange looks through the rear-view mirror.

			  DRIVER
	You look like you're far away. Far 
	away and thinking about other things. 
	I'm right about that, aren't I?

			  MARTIN
	No.

			  DRIVER
	Well, let's just say that sometimes 
	I'm right. Sometimes you are.

			  MARTIN
	Sometimes I am. Sometimes. It's only 
	natural.

			  DRIVER
		(laughs to himself at 
		this great truth)
	It's only natural....

The Driver pauses for dramatic emphasis

			  DRIVER
	I been looking at you, and I've 
	decided that I want to share something 
	with you.

			  MARTIN
	Okay.

			  DRIVER
	Because your problem is you're bored. 
	And you have a very big mind.
		(beat)
	I am part of what I call a brain 
	syndicate.

No reaction from Martin.

			  DRIVER
	I am part of a network of minds, a 
	group of five people who are all 
	connected, over hundreds, even 
	thousands of miles, through the mind. 
	We can think with each other, think 
	for each other. I can be driving 
	somewhere, sleeping with a woman-- 
	whatever it is-- and at the same 
	time be thinking a thought in someone 
	else's mind, far away. Running someone 
	else's brain.

			  MARTIN
		(indicates)
	Up on the right.

			  DRIVER
	And when you think of it, it's not 
	so surprising that a small group of 
	people control the whole world, is 
	it?

INT. HOTEL ROOM, NEW YORK CITY - DAY

A sedate and well-appointed four-star suite on the Upper 
East Side. Martin stands in front of one of the open windows 
watching the canopied entrance of an elegant high-rise across 
the street. He lifts an eye rinse cup to his eye and tilts 
it back. A cellular phone RINGS, interrupting him. He moves 
to the desk and draws one of three phones from his briefcase, 
depresses a scrambler module, flips it open, and listens for 
a moment.

			  MARTIN
	If it's not there, I can't proceed. 
	Tell them.

Martin hangs up. Picks up another phone and dials. As he 
waits for an answer, he goes to a Fed Ex blueprint tube lying 
on the bed.

			  MARTIN
	Tom. I've been waiting for an answer. 
	I'm only in town tonight.

He breaks the shipping seal and pulls out a series of finished 
metal parts including a long thin barrel, a scope, and a 
silencer.

			  MARTIN
	What's different this time than the 
	last time? I have to be down front...

INT. HOTEL ROOM - SAME

Martin stands in front of the window, phone in one hand, the 
scope in the other. Next to him, the assembled rifle rests 
across the arm of a chair.

			  MARTIN
	...I don't bother to call anyone 
	else because you always take care of 
	me.

He glances over to a second window to his left, which offers 
a view further down the street. He goes to it. He raises the 
scope and sees

MARTIN'S P.O.V./SCOPE- WINDOW #2

A few blocks down, small even through the high-powered scope, 
is your average BICYCLE MESSENGER dressed in lycra racing 
gear, weaving through traffic toward us. Slung low across 
his right hip is a black canvas bag. The Messenger's hand is 
hidden in it. The other phone begins to RING.

			  MARTIN
	Hold on a second, Tom. I got my hands 
	full here.

He sets down the phone and answers the other, still watching 
the messenger.

			  MARTIN
	Good. Account number 3649367, transfer 
	to account number 96-546-38739-47825. 
	Ask for Mr. Sanchez, tell him it's 
	Mr. Duckman. If there are any 
	problems, access file 673594638-IO-
	98, and look at it.

Martin drops the phone and moves away from Window #2 to the 
rifle. He mounts the scope and he looks out Window #1 at the 
high-rise.

MARTIN'S P.O.V./SCOPE - WINDOW #1

Of a DOORMAN opening the door for a group of five men in 
suits. Four BODYGUARDS form a perimeter around the fifth 
man, a mall, avuncular figure in his forties dressed in 
Saville Row finery.

MARTIN

Takes a step back into the shadows of the room, and raises 
the rifle toward Window #2.

MARTIN'S P.O.V./SCOPE - WINDOW #2

of an empty street. The bicycle messenger flashes past.

MARTIN

concentrating, tracks the path of the Messenger, leading him 
left to right across the blind spot of the hotel room wall 
between Window #2 and Window #1.

STREET

the bicycle Messenger bears down on the group of men, drawing 
a Mac-10 submachine gun from his bag. The group see him-- 
just as Martin's sniper FIRE explodes the Messenger's chest. 
Two of the Bodyguards collapse onto their boss. The other 
two open fire on the Messenger as he wipes out horribly into 
a parked car in front of them.

MARTIN

withdraws from the window, and picks up the phone again and 
begins to break down the rifle.

			  MARTIN
	Sorry Tom. But look, I know it's the 
	playoffs. That's why I'm offering a 
	thousand dollars for one seat...

Martin listens patiently as he works.

EXT. STREET - SAME - INTERCUT

DOORMAN'S HANDS

unbuttoning his double-breasted long coat.

MARTIN

just finishes packing.

			  MARTIN
	...Well let me ask you, Tom. What do 
	I have to do to get courtside tickets 
	for the Knicks...?

STREET

The two bodyguards kick at the Messenger's body. The other 
two begin to move off of their boss, who rises cowering. The 
Doorman stands behind it all, unbuttoning his coat.

DOORMAN

a tall, dark, sharp-featured man in his forties, wearing a 
handlebar moustache. He moves toward the group of men as he 
flips open his coat back over two huge chrome .44 Magnum 
Charthouse Bulldog revolvers and OPENS FIRE on them.

MARTIN

is closing his bag when he hears the gun-thunder.

			  MARTIN
	Never mind. I gotta go.

Martin drops the phone, grabs his scope, and spins to the 
window.

MARTIN'S P.O.V./SCOPE

of the Doorman kicking through the pile of dead bodyguards. 
He gets to the man at the bottom-- their boss. The Doorman 
FIRES both guns.

MARTIN

reacts, surprised to see a second shooter. He pulls himself 
from the window, puts away his scope, and accelerates his 
exit.

HIGH-RISE FOYER

Outside, we see the doorman drop both guns on the pile of 
bodies. He walks back toward us through the glass doors and 
makes his way through the building toward the service exit. 
He sheds his uniform and stuffs it into a plastic bag.

MARTIN

his two parcels in hand, exits out the side door of the hotel 
and walks down the street.

DOORMAN

now wearing rich man's sweats, hops off the loading dock, 
walks to a Lincoln Town Car, and drives off.

INT. MARTIN'S AND GROCERS CARS - DAY

Martin rolls down FDR Drive in a Lincoln Town Car once again 
on the cellular.

			  MARTIN
	...Tell them that's not my problem. 
	I was paid for one job-- the cyclist-- 
	not two. See you tomorrow, Marcella.

			  MARCELLA
	Wait. I have Mr. Grocer for you.

			  MARTIN
	Patch him through....

Martin notices another Town Car appears in the next lane. We 
recognize the Doorman behind the wheel, phone in hand. He is 
GROCER.

			  MARTIN
	What do you want?

			  GROCER
	I'm setting up a concern that would 
	enable those of us in our rarefied 
	profession to consolidate our efforts.

			  MARTIN
	Like a union?

			  GROCER
	Like a club. Work less, make more.

			  MARTIN
	Thank you, no.

			  GROCER
	We could be working together, making 
	big money, killing important people... 
	I'm willing to let you in on the 
	ground floor.

			  MARTIN
	And you could be... sort of like... 
	a father figure to me....

Grocer ignores this.

			  GROCER
	It's a free-market evolution. You'll 
	wake up to it... c'mon Kid. We used 
	to run together when you were a 
	rookie. I don't want to run against 
	you. This thing's real. Everybody's 
	in.

			  MARTIN
	Not me. So don't paw at me with your 
	dirty little guild.

			  GROCER
	I'm gonna get you, kid.

Martin hangs up and pulls away.

INT. AIRLINER - DAY

Martin sits in first class, wiping his face and hands with 
an airline hot towel. He folds the wet cloth and once again 
speeds through the images from a thick stack of magazines. 
He looks up as he hears PILOT V.O.  It's seventy-six degrees 
and partly cloudy in Chicago this afternoon...

INT. APARTMENT, CHICAGO - NIGHT

Martin walks into a sparsely furnished apartment. He wearily 
drops his carry-on bag and briefcase in the hall.

INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER

Martin sits on a futon couch watching MTV with no sound. On 
the coffee table in front of him is a phalanx of vitamin 
bottles. Martin takes some capsules from each and washes 
them down with a reddish-orange beverage.

INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER

Martin lies on his back on the hardwood floor. His eyes are 
closed and he wears a set of headphones as he absently taps 
his chest.

			  WOMAN (V.O.)
	"Dear Alumni: Can you believe it's 
	been ten years? Where are you now...?

After a moment, his eyes open, alerted. His head turns to 
the side, and his hands lightly cup the headphones.

CLOSE-UP: WIRE

from the headphones as it winds to a small metal box, with 
one unmarked switch and one amber light- definitely not a 
walkman. The wire continues out of the other side of the 
box, across the floor, connecting to a suction cup stuck to 
the floor.

			  WOMAN (V.O.)
	...Are you guiding an Outward Bound 
	canoe trip like Brook Stinson? Or 
	perhaps in charge of appearances for 
	the NFL like Leslie Gunther....?

MARTIN - A MINUTE LATER

draws a pre-cut section of the floor, the width of a pencil 
and twice as long, by a string.

VIDEO MONITOR - A MINUTE LATER

The greenish Starlight (night vision) image of a young, HUSKY 
MAN sleeping on his back, as seen from above. A fine thread 
snakes from behind CAMERA to just above the man's slack mouth. 
We PULL BACK to reveal a Sony Watchman that holds the IMAGE. 
KEEP PULLING to reveal Martin watching it as he maneuvers 
the thread down past the fiber-optic cable through the hole 
in the floor.

MARTIN - A MINUTE LATER

concentrates as he applies three drops of blue liquid on the 
thread. As the drops run down along the thread through the 
floor, his attention shifts to the

VIDEO MONITOR

The drops, huge in the foreground, become smaller as they 
make their way down the line toward the sleeping man.

			  WOMAN (V.O.)
	...Could it be that you're like Chip 
	Longfellow, at the trade-relations 
	tank in Washington. Sandy Glasser 
	owns a cheese shop...!

MARTIN

adjusts the thread minutely with one hand, and lowers the 
fiber-optic cable with the other.

VIDEO MONITOR

The face begins to fill the screen as the fiber-optic follows 
the drops toward it. Suddenly, the man snorts and turns his 
face...

A DROP FALLS

It misses the man's mouth and hit's his cheek.

VIDEO MONITOR

The man's eyes snap open in terror as he looks directly into 
CAMERA. His image falls away as the fiber-optic is jerked 
back up through the hole in the floor.

			  WOMAN (V.O.)
	...Looking at yearbooks and pictures 
	evokes so many memories...!

			  MARTIN (V.O.)
		(hushed)
	Fuck!

MARTIN

stuffs the apparati into an open duffel bag, and flies out 
of frame.

			  WOMAN (V.O.)
	...Some good. Some bad. But all 
	interesting...

INT. HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER

A BODYGUARD sits outside an apartment door. A muffled but 
dire scream is heard from within and he is on his feet, gun 
in hand. An exit door in the hallway slams open revealing 
Martin, his gun already pointed at the Bodyguard. The 
Bodyguard levels his at Martin.

			  MARTIN
	Freeze! Police!

The Bodyguard hesitates just long enough to get double-tapped 
through the head.

			  WOMAN (V.O.)
	...As a graduate of the class of 
	1984, you are someone special...

Martin moves to the dead Bodyguard, and locates a retractable 
key chain on his belt. He unreels the ring of keys and opens 
the door. He lets the keys retract back to the belt and drags 
him into the apartment.

INT. HUSKY MAN'S APARTMENT - SECONDS LATER

Martin moves silently down the hall in a crouch. He comes to 
the bedroom and slips across the threshold.

			  WOMAN (V.O.)
	...Whenever news of you filters back, 
	the school is excited and proud of 
	your accomplishments...

INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

Martin crouches down outside the bedroom door. He points the 
gun at the door, and reaching up turns the knob. As the door 
opens, the Husky Man FIRES wildly over Martin's head. Martin 
returns with one shot to the hut which sits the man down on 
the floor.

			  WOMAN (V.O.)
	...We hope Grosse Pointe High prepared 
	you well to lead the kind of life 
	that makes an impact on the world...

Martin kicks the gun away from the fallen man, and raises 
his barrel to the man's forehead.

			  WOMAN (V.O.)
	...Remember, "there's no where you 
	can go that you haven't learned how 
	to go in time... It's easy..."

			  HUSKY MAN
		(in severe pain)
	Whatever it is that I'm doing that 
	you don't like I'll stop doing it.

			  MARTIN
	It's not me.

Martin cocks the gun....

EXT. EAST-WEST HOLDING COMPANY, LOS ANGELES - DAY

The perpetual sun shines down on a small lot of pre-fab office 
bungalows.

INT. BLANK HOLDING COMPANY

A small suite of dry-walled offices.

EAST-WEST HOLDING COMPANY

is stenciled on glass doors behind Martin who stands in front 
of a young woman reading from some kind of invitation. She 
is MARCELLA MAYES.

			  MARCELLA
	...So come on back to the old oak 
	tree, acorns. Signed, the reunion 
	committee."

Marcella holds up the mauve envelope and smiles slyly. For 
the first time, Martin looks scared.

			  MARTIN
	Throw that away.

			  MARCELLA
	This?

			  MARTIN
	Don't tease me. You know what I do 
	for a living.

			  MARCELLA
	It's from one of those P.O. Boxes. 
	How was the trip?

			  MARTIN
	Tedious. I now authorize you to throw 
	away all personal mail.

			  MARCELLA
	All of it?

			  MARTIN
	And not show it to me. Ever again.

			  MARCELLA
	That's going to cost.

			  MARTIN
	I'll pay.

Martin begins to walk past her into his office, but Marcella 
stops him.

			  MARCELLA
	They're not happy, sir.

			  MARTIN
	I'm not happy.

			  MARCELLA
	They say their friend was suppose to 
	have a heart attack and die in his 
	sleep.

			  MARTIN
	He didn't.

			  MARCELLA
	They blame you for the compromise.

			  MARTIN
	And they want me to make up for it.

			  MARCELLA
	In Detroit. This weekend.

			  MARTIN
	Tell them that's impossible. I need 
	my normal lead time.

			  MARCELLA
	They were very upset.

			  MARTIN
	Would you describe their position as 
	inflexible?

			  MARCELLA
	Intractable, sir. You leave tonight.

Marcella looks concerned.

			  MARCELLA
	And sir, I also get that broken-
	mirror, black-cat, Friday-the-
	thirteenth kind of feeling about 
	this one....

			  MARTIN
	There's nothing to be done about it.

			  MARCELLA
	I liquidated the last account in 
	Zurich, and split it into two new 
	ones in Estonia.

			  MARTIN
	Good. What else? Anything interesting?

			  MARCELLA
	Mmm, not really. But you're gonna 
	love this one.

She hands him a piece of paper. He scans it.

			  MARCELLA
	Enough?

			  MARTIN
	Never enough.

			  MARCELLA
	But it's a Greenpeace boat. It'd be 
	so easy.

Martin looks at her wearily. He puts it into the paper 
shredder at the side of her desk.

			  MARTIN
	I have scruples. Next.

			  MARCELLA
	Paperwork on the Detroit thing. It's 
	a full dossier. Very comprehensive.

She raises a thick brown dossier from the top of her desk 
and puts it down again. Martin moves through a door to his 
private office.

MARTIN'S OFFICE

Martin goes into his office and sits at his desk. On the 
walls are a couple of boring prints of tallships. A bookshelf 
holds trappings of a loose attempt at a cover-- a few shipping 
manifests, sealane tables, and other specialized reference 
books on import/export. He sits and stares.

NEW ANGLE

Time has passed, and Martin still sits at his desk massaging 
his gums with a rubber-tipped dental pointer.

C.U. MARTIN'S TEETH

The dental tool jumps across the gaps between his teeth like 
a hummingbird.

			  MARCELLA
		(off-screen)
	You should get going....

MARTIN

pulls back his jacket lapel and fits the utensil into a pocket 
protector that is also home to a toothbrush, emery board, 
tweezers, and comb. He stands and walks out of his office.

FOYER

Martin moves toward the door. As he passes Marcella she hands 
him the mauve envelope and a travel portfolio.

			  MARCELLA
	Don't forget your identity.

			  MARTIN
	See you next week.

Martin stops short as he reaches the threshold. He holds up 
the envelope, and stares a dagger through it. On his way 
out, over his shoulder...

			  MARTIN
	Tell Dr. Oatman I'm on my way.

INT. DR. OATMAN'S OFFICE - DAY

Martin slouches on a leather couch. He holds the mauve 
envelope, now open.

			  DR. OATMAN (V.O.)
	Why don't you want to go to your 
	high school reunion?

			  MARTIN
	It's in Michigan. Honestly, what do 
	I have in common with those people? 
	Or with anyone?

DR. OATMAN sits in the window. He is Kris Kringle-esque, and 
wears a sheepskin vest, rough-hewn shirt, faded Levis, and 
old Frye boots. Oatman nods with the suave understanding of 
a man happy to collect fifty thousand in fees before asking 
a tough question.

			  DR. OATMAN
	You went to school with these people.

			  MARTIN
	Come on.

			  DR. OATMAN
	We've spent a lot of time discussing 
	those years. Remember we said that 
	fear is a transfer of the bodily 
	hurt associated by experience with 
	the thing feared, to the thought of 
	the thing. Thus we fear a dog without 
	distinctly imagining its bite.

			  MARTIN
	Shouldn't you be taking notes?

			  DR. OATMAN
	Tell me about your vision of the 
	reunion.

CLOSE-UP - MARTIN

							   CUT TO:

MARTIN'S P.O.V. - FROM ABOVE

Of a crowded gymnasium. The alumni below stops what they are 
doing and look up at Martin, DRAWING GUNS OF ALL SHAPES AND 
SIZES AND OPEN FIRE ON MARTIN. THE UNITED FORCE INSTANTLY 
DISINTEGRATES, AND ALL 400 PEOPLE TURN THEIR GUNS ON EACH 
OTHER. A BLOODBATH ENSUES. ONE ALUMNI SHOOTS HER OWN HEAD 
OFF, ANOTHER MOWS DOWN THE BAR, ETC.

						   CUT BACK TO:

MARTIN AND OATMAN

			  MARTIN
	It'll be depressing.

			  DR. OATMAN
	How do you know?

			  MARTIN
	I just know.

			  DR. OATMAN
	Say more.

			  MARTIN
	They'll have husbands and wives and 
	children and houses and dogs.... 
	made themselves a part of something. 
	And they can talk about what they 
	do. What am I going to say?
		(sarcastic)
	"I killed the President of Paraguay 
	with a fork."

Oatman twitches nervously, almost spilling his coffee.

			  DR. OATMAN
	You needn't be so frank with me about 
	your work.

			  MARTIN
	Why not. I trust you. You couldn't 
	turn me in because of Doctor-Patient 
	privilege... and I don't want to be 
	"withholding"... and I know where 
	you live.

			  DR. OATMAN
	You know where I live?

			  MARTIN
	We're both professionals, Oatman.

			  DR. OATMAN
	I think what you fear Martin is 
	domesticity. It's the greatest fear 
	that men have who belong to Western 
	Culture. It's centuries old. Like 
	King Phillip, in the 11th or 12th 
	century who decided one day that he 
	was so bored with his dreary life at 
	home with his wife he thought, "Well, 
	wouldn't it be great if we hit the 
	road and fought... oh... the 
	Saracens."  So he put the word out 
	and was amazed when a million men 
	signed up and all of them wanted to 
	go and fight in distant lands and do 
	terrible things to people rather 
	than stay at home with their families.

			  MARTIN
	So you're saying that Ulysses--
	everything he said to his queen when 
	he came back--everything was a lie? 
	He just wanted to fuck around?

			  DR. OATMAN
	Yes.

			  MARTIN
	Mmm.

Beat.

			  DR. OATMAN
	And how have you been feeling about 
	your... work lately?

			  MARTIN
	Uneasy. Dispassionate. Bored. It's 
	just getting hard to go to work in a 
	good mood. I'm starting to think 
	I've been in the business too long. 
	Last week I did a guy younger than 
	me.

INT. CHURCH -

SERIES OF QUICK SHOTS:

MARTIN

From the back of the darkened empty church, we see him mount 
the altar.  A priest in fact.

MARTIN'S HANDS

open the gilded doors to reveal the chalice. He removes it, 
squirts a clear liquid into the cup, and swishes it out. He 
returns the chalice to the cabinet.

			  MARTIN (V.O.)
	The church seems to be purging itself 
	of it's pedophile.

MARTIN

Sits in the back pew of the church, now crowded for Mann. He 
watches the PRIEST lift the chalice into the air, murmur a 
prayer, and drink from it. The Priest collapses behind the 
altar.

			  MARTIN (V.O.)
	It's a bull market.

C.U. OF ALTAR CARPET

The chalice bounces free from the Priest's hand as it hits 
the ground.

			  MARTIN (V.O.)
	Anyway, that never use to happen. I 
	was always the prodigy. Now I'm just 
	one of the guys.

			  DR. OATMAN (V.O.)
	Maybe some of the discomfort you're 
	feeling is... guilt. Remorse. Over 
	the innocent people you've killed.

INT. OATMAN'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

			  MARTIN
	If I show up at your door, chances 
	are you did something to bring me 
	there. I don't care about that stuff, 
	anyway.

			  DR. OATMAN
	What stuff?

			  MARTIN
		(dismissive)
	Morality.

Oatman's glad the session's just about over.

			  DR. OATMAN
	Go to your reunion, Martin. See those 
	people and discover what they mean 
	to you. Try not to kill anybody for 
	a few days, see how you feel.

			  MARTIN
	If I get antsy I'll kill a few small 
	animals.

			  OATMAN
	Now we're making progress.

INT. CONDO - NIGHT

Very dark. No pictures or plants. Almost no furniture, and 
what he does have is black. The only sign of life is a CAT. 
The cat watches on as Martin sorts through a cardboard box, 
finally coming to a photo album.

			  CAT
	Meow.

			  MARTIN
	Just a minute.

INSERT-ALBUM

A teen-aged Martin Blank: shy boy with a nervous smile. He 
poses with his mother, an older woman with a kind smile... 
but her eyes are dark; aged by a life of work and worry. On 
the opposing page is a gilt funeral announcement that reads: 
"IN LOVING MEMORY... VISTOR ALLEN BLANK...."

MARTIN

turns the page.

INSERT-PHOTO ALBUM

A photograph of a tall, thin girl: a bright smile from within 
a bulky winter coat. A girl he's always wondered about: DEBI 
NEWBERRY. Handwritten on the photo in girlish loops: "Would 
you rather...?!"

			  CAT
	Meow!

INT. KITCHEN - SAME

Martin pulls himself away from the album and the cat follows 
him, moaning hungrily--

			  MARTIN
	Food soon...

Martin opens a restaurant-style refrigerator. It holds various 
bottles of vitamins, spirulina, wheatgrass, digestible 
hydrogen peroxide, fluoride treatment, oxygenated mouth rinse, 
and thirty cans of CATFOOD.

			  MARTIN
	Tuna or liver?

			  CAT
	Meow.

			  MARTIN
	Tuna it is.

He opens a can for the cat and a bottle for himself. While 
the cat eats, he returns to the cardboard box. Finds a 
YEARBOOK. Flips it open....

INSERT-YEARBOOK

A picture of a senior class "Blues Brothers" party: a group 
of teens mug to the camera in Blues Brothers get-ups. 
Sprinters race for a finish line, their chests stretching 
for the tape.

DEBI NEWBERY'S SENIOR PICTURE

A more mature version of the girl in the album. Her name 
appears under his picture...

INT. GROCER'S KITCHEN - NIGHT

Track light fills the gourmet-rustic kitchen. GROCER stands, 
wearing a burgundy Fila sweat suit, pushing beets into a 
vegetable juicer. Next to the juicer are piles of celery and 
carrots, as well. A low-key BLIP is heard from another room. 
Grocer tops off the glass and takes it out of the kitchen.

INT. GROCER'S GREAT ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Grocer enters the main room of the villa-style A-frame. He 
moves to an antique oak desk and sits in front of a COMPUTER.

ON-SCREEN GRAPHICS

	  "Click OK for remote access caller"

OK is clicked.

	   "Availability for two days in Detroit area"

			 "Terms"

			"$560,000"

			  "When"

			  "Now"

			"OK/ FAX materials"

Grocer leans back in his chair and sips the juice. After a 
moment, the FAX machine on the desk rattles. The computer 
beeps.

  "confirmation number of wire transfer#: AJ6687-OI99471"

Grocer hits the return button after taking in the number. A 
graphic appears:

	"Connection is terminated/ Status idle"

Grocer's FAX begins to moan and chatter. Grocer raises his 
juice glass to the computer in a lazy toast.

INT. PLANE - NIGHT

Martin reclines in first class, soaring toward the Midwest 
on the red-eye. He has already scanned his magazines and 
they are piled in the empty seat next to him. He sets aside 
a Powerbar. Martin reads Kill Without Joy. After a moment, 
he sets the book down and takes up Iron John.

INT. DETROIT AIRPORT TERMINAL - EARLY MORNING

At the edge of the airport bar sits LARDNER and MCCULLERS, 
two Government Spooks, agency unknown. They are both in 
blazers, no ties, early thirties, and they watch the passing 
crowd.

			  LARDNER
	You always say that. You always say 
	that. I'm telling you, you never met 
	the man.

			  MCCULLERS
	Seventeen months ago I was posting a 
	walk in Lisbon, and he was there. He 
	never saw me. But I saw him, though.

			  LARDNER
	Lisbon?

			  MCCULLERS
	In Portugal, yes.

In the background, Martin passes by them as he walks down 
the hall. Without directly regarding him, the two stand, 
drop some cash on the bar, and begin to leave.

			  LARDNER
	Here's the news: He hasn't been in 
	Portugal since '90. I know that from 
	the file. Why don't you read the 
	file, man?

			  MCCULLERS
	In fact, I think I talked with him, 
	in Bonn.

Lardner can neither confirm nor deny this.

			  LARDNER
	You always say that. You always have 
	to know everybody. Why don't I just 
	take the weekend off and let you 
	kill him. Since you two are so close.

They exit.

EXT. EXIT RAMP, DETROIT AIRPORT - MORNING

INSIDE MARTIN'S CAR

Martin, in a black Lincoln Town Car, veers off of the airport 
artery and on to a turnpike. The radio broadcasts the news.

			  BROADCAST (V.O.)
	...with highs today in the upper 
	seventies. Related stocks on Wall 
	Street today as scandal continues to 
	rock the joint U.S.-Japanese Tech 
	Center...

MARTIN'S CAR

blows past CAMERA and on down the road. After a beat, a mid-
eighties Ford Country Squire station wagon follows, occupied 
by two figures.

INSIDE THE COUNTRY SQUIRE

are Lardner and McCullers. They listen to the same broadcast.

			  BROADCAST (V.O.)
	...An unknown "whistle-blower" has 
	leaked a number of critical flaws in 
	the safety designs of next year's 
	models to authorities that could 
	cost millions in recalls....

MARTIN

flips through the dial, pausing on Rush Limbaugh who waxes 
fascistically.

			  MARTIN
	Mein hero.

...and then turns the dial again and cuts in on "Armageddon 
Time," slow reggae vibe by The Clash.

EXT. HIGHWAY-

Martin drives down the roadway... headlong into his past. 
Dig it...

INT. MARTIN'S CAR

Martin turns up the volume as he reacts to a familiar 
voice....

			  FEMALE DEEJAY (V.O.)
		(on radio)
	--this is WFRN, all vinyl, all the 
	time. Oldies from the eighties. It's 
	a cold summer day in Grosse Pointe--

							   CUT TO:

CLOSE-UP - A FULL, FEMALE MOUTH

lit only by dime slivers of sunlight, in front of a 
microphone. Stray, gossamer strands of hair hanging in her 
face move in front of her mouth as she speaks....

			  FEMALE DEEJAY
	--and I'm ready for some good tunes 
	and angry talk. Or angry tunes and 
	good talk--

							   CUT TO:

MARTIN

looking somewhere far away, beyond what is before him in the 
windshield...

			  FEMALE DEEJAY (V.O.)
	--Or maybe we'll just play the Cocteau 
	Twins and get over the goo-angry-
	talking music. As you know--

							   CUT TO:

THE DEEJAY'S HANDS

as they distractedly toy with the wire at the base of the 
mic.

			  FEMALE DEEJAY (V.O.)
	--for some moments in life there are 
	no words, and a little nonsense now 
	and then is relished by the wisest 
	man--

							   CUT TO:

MARTIN

still rapt, makes a sharp turn into a shopping district.

							   CUT TO:

HER MOUTH

			  FEMALE DEEJAY
	--The Cocteau Twins, though also a 
	band of the nineties, will be aired 
	due to the fact that they created 
	their own language to sing by--

							   CUT TO:

MARTIN

slows on a quaint street of cute shops. He creeps up to a 
storefront on hid right and stops, staring through the 
passenger window....

							   CUT TO:

DEBI NEWBERRY

the female deejay. She sits slumped in a well-worn executive 
chair, her back to the studio console and the picture window 
behind it that opens to the street....

			  DEBI
	--Now that's freedom--

she swivels in the chair to face the street....

DEBI'S P.O.V.

of Martin's Town Car outside, Martin silhouetted in shadow.

DEBI

Her brow furrowed as she peers at the car, something summoned 
by the dark figure. Her words falter almost imperceptibly.

			  DEBI
	--The best I can do is a rhyme: Where 
	are all the good men dead? In the 
	heart or in the head? Back later....

MARTIN

Shaken from his trance by her stare, pulls back into the 
street and disappears....

INT. MARTIN'S CAR - MORNING

Martin drives, listening to the radio. He turns the corner 
with an expectant look on his face. Suddenly his face drops 
as he slows and pulls over....

MARTIN'S P.O.V. - 7-11 STORE

Martin looks left of the store, then right, behind him, then 
back at the store. Bewildered, he gets out of the car.

WIDE SHOT

of Martin as he walks with purpose. He halts in the middle 
of the lot. He puts his hands on his hips, stares, then moves 
in... We stay wide as he enters the store and addresses the 
clerk inside.

			  MARTIN
	What are you doing here?

CARL, the store clerk tries to get a grip on this question.

			  CARL
	A double shift. What's it look like?
		(softening)
	Can I help you with something?

Martin's head pans the room, processing.

			  MARTIN
	I don't think so.

EXT. 7-11 PAYPHONE - MORNING

Martin continues to gaze at the structure as if it's a lunar 
landscape.

			  MARTIN
		(into phone)
	Dr. Oatman. Dr. Oatman. Please pick 
	up if you're there... It's Martin 
	Blank. It's gone. My house. It's not 
	here. My house is gone and now there's 
	a 7-11 here... And that's 
	unfortunate... You can never go home 
	again, Dr. Oatman.

Martin hangs up. He watches one-stop shoppers come and go.

			  MARTIN
		(to himself)
	But I guess you can shop there.

INT. NURSING HOME - DAY

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

of a NURSE leading him down a drab, antiseptic hallway. She 
banks into the sunlit room where a wispy woman in her late 
fifties sits expectantly on the edge of the bed clutching 
her purse in one hand, a filterless Pall-Mall in the other, 
a light coat on. This is MARY BLANK. She suffers from 
Alzheimer's or something just as debilitating.

			  NURSE
	Mary, your son's here.

The nurse gently eases Mary up. Martin hugs Mary stiffly and 
pats her shoulders. Mary takes hold of Martin's arm. They 
start out of the room.

EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - DAY

They walk past a school-yard park fitted with a set of swings, 
baseball diamonds, and a small grove of trees. She smokes 
and hacks.

			  MARY
	I bought a new rug.

			  MARTIN
	That's wonderful, Mom.

			  MARY
	What's a revival tent?

			  MARTIN
	It's a place where religious people--

			  MARY
		(knowingly)
	Marlin Perkins and Jim!

			  MARTIN
	Jim?

			  MARY
	His assistant. He acted like Marlin's 
	son, only he wasn't. At least they 
	never said he was... I bet they were 
	lovers, faggots. Yes, gay lovers. 
	Wild Kingdom my ass!

Mary coughs horribly.

			  MARTIN
	It's good to see you. I'm sure you're 
	curious about what I've been doing.

			  MARY
	I spoke to your father the other 
	day.

			  MARTIN
	I imagine that'd be rather difficult.

			  MARY
	Nature made him then broke the mold.

Martin decides to change the subject.

			  MARTIN
	They told me you're taking lithium, 
	mom.

			  MARY
	Yes, they give me headaches. I have 
	a headache.

			  MARTIN
	You have a headache?

			  MARY
	I have a headache. You have a 
	headache?

			  MARTIN
	No, I don't have one.

			  MARY
	You don't have a headache. I have a 
	headache.

Mary leans in close, smiling.

			  MARY
	We had a good laugh, didn't we?

			  MARTIN
	Yeah. I guess we did.

EXT. NURSING HOME - DAY

As they head toward Martin's car, Mary stops and points to 
it.

			  MARY
	Why don't you return this car and 
	borrow mine? Have Debi follow you to 
	the rent-a-car so you can get a ride 
	back.

			  MARTIN
	I think I'll go see Debi today.

			  MARY
	Of course you will.

			  MARTIN
	I can't think of anything to say to 
	her that seems appropriate given I 
	left and never said goodbye to her.

			  MARY
	Take care of her. She's a keeper.

			  MARTIN
	Yeah...

			  MARY
	And a leader. Didn't she meet Castro 
	on foreign exchange?

			  MARTIN
	I have always thought about her and 
	missed her.

A nurse approaches with a wheelchair.

			  MARY
	Separate the wheat from the chaff 
	and you've got the candle cat.

Together, Martin and the nurse help Mary into it. Mary gazes 
at Martin, taking him in.

			  MARY
	Remember no matter how impossible 
	your problems feel. I've known people 
	without a chance in the world. And 
	all of a sudden, they have lives.  
	Time allows miracles. Let yourself 
	breathe, son.

Martin bends down and kisses her on the cheek. The nurse 
spins the chair around and heads toward the building. He is 
somewhat fatigued from the experience, but he tries once 
more to connect.

			  MARTIN
	Mom...

The nurse stops and turns Mary around to face him. Mary looks 
up at Martin and brightens. She starts to sing out like Ethel 
Merman, arms out Broadway style.

			  MARY
	"What's up doc/ what's cookin'?/ 
	What's up doc?/ Are ya lookin'?/ 
	Hey! Look out!  You're gonna hurt 
	someone,/ with that old shotgun,/ 
	Hey... what's... up... Doooooc...!/ 
	We really mean it!"

Mary stops short, and squints at Martin.

			  MARY
	Hey, you're a handsome devil. What's 
	your name?

EXT. GRAVEYARD ROAD - DAY

Martin stops the car and looks out the window at the sea of 
headstones. He jerks his hand in a stiff wave...

			  MARTIN
	Hey Pop... You got off easy. The 
	house is a 7-11. Mom's a psycho-
	pharmacological punching bag and I 
	murder for cash. If you were here I 
	think you'd be proud.

He drives off.

INT. MARTIN'S SUITE - DAY

The room features a big square bed, dresser and television. 
Martin enters, kicks a leather bag under the bed, and grabs 
the steel-sided briefcase.

			  MARTIN
	pries out a wall vent, slides in the 
	case and replaces the vent.

EXT. MAIN STREET - DAY

Lardner and McCullers are staked out along the main strip of 
town. Lardner snores, face pressed up against the passenger 
window. McCullers lays back in his seat, a to-go cup in his 
lap. He taps the cup with one finger as he absently sings 
his favorite Bob Seeger song to himself...

			  MCCULLERS
	"...Against the wind... just a young 
	man running... Against the wind... 
	let the cowboy's ride!... Blame on 
	it the thuuunder! Night moves..."

McCullers catches of Martin's Town Car coming down the street. 
He nudges Lardner, and points.

LARDNER AND MCCULLERS P.O.V.

of Martin pulling into a space on the street outside the 
radio station. He gets out, looking nervous.

INT. RADIO STATION - DAY

Debi flips on the "ON-AIR" switch and prepares to speak into 
the microphone. Martin walks in. Debi sees him. They stare 
at each other. The song ends. Dead air. After a moment...

			  DEBI
		(on air, groping)
	WRFN playing all vinyl, all the time. 
	Oldies from the eighties. That was 
	ah... the Specials. Doing... one of 
	their songs...

Debi turns to turntable B and finds it empty. She turns back 
to turntable A and lets the record roll on.

			  DEBI
	...and here's another.

Debi swivels around to face Martin.

			  MARTIN
	"Oldies from the eighties?"

After a long pause....

			  DEBI
	I just play my own collection.

			  MARTIN
	It's nice to see you again.

Debi says nothing, just stares at him, in shock.

			  MARTIN
	How long has it been?

			  DEBI
	Since you stood me up on prom night 
	and vanished without saying a word?

			  MARTIN
	Ten years, I think. What I miss?

Debi slowly grooves into irony, her best defense.

			  DEBI
	Well, let me see... they tore down 
	the George Orwell monument and put 
	up a bust of George Michael. Main 
	Street's a four-laner, no left turns 
	four to seven. I was married and 
	divorced. And Grosse Pointe is now 
	officially the new sister city to 
	Lower Hutt, New Zealand. We have 
	fiber-optic town meetings every two 
	months.

			  MARTIN
	Here is now there. There is here.

Their eyes lock on each other...

			  DEBI
	Those are the headlines.

The request line buzzes.

			  DEBI
	Hold that thought.
		(into phone)
	WRFN FM, Grosse Pointe. All vinyl, 
	all the...
		(pauses)
	No Pearl Jam. Call back in ten years.

Beat. Debi makes the move.

			  DEBI
	Tell me about yourself.

			  MARTIN
	I'm in California most of the time. 
	Traveling a lot on business. That's 
	about it, really.

			  DEBI
	That's it?

			  MARTIN
	Not much else.

			  DEBI
	What's your business?

			  MARTIN
	I'm a professional killer.

			  DEBI
	Professional killer. Do you get dental 
	with that?

Beat.

			  MARTIN
	Well, I'm in town for a few days, 
	anyway.

They run out of words, the moment too big for small talk. 
Martin gets the fear, breaks it off.

			  MARTIN
	Well, I gotta go. But I'll come back.

			  DEBI
	Okay.

Martin leaves Debi sitting alone, in disbelief.

EXT. RADIO STATION - DAY

Martin steps out of the storefront station along the 
fashionable Grosse Pointe shopping district. He stops in the 
middle of the street with a strained look on his face.

INT. LARDNER & MCCULLERS' COUNTRY SQUIRE - SAME

LARDNER & MCCULLERS' P.O.V.

of Martin standing in the street.

LARDNER AND MCCULLERS

They frown, wondering at Martin's next move.

INT. DEEJAY BOOTH -

Debi lost in thought, still. After a moment, she sits upright 
and flips the "ON-AIR" switch.

			  DEBI
		(into mike)
	A man comes to you. He is from the 
	past bringing you pain long since 
	put behind you. He says peculiar 
	things and leaves abruptly. It all 
	comes flooding back...

EXT. STREET -

Martin stops in his tracks. His face softens, then becomes 
determined. He turns and walks back toward the station.

INT. DEEJAY BOOTH -

Debi broadcasting...

			  DEBI
	It felt like an apparition, or some 
	cheap, gruesome Rod Serling time 
	warp I'd been thrust back into without 
	warning. There's a strangeness in 
	the air and I don't mind telling 
	you, I'm a little spooked. He was a 
	man from my past. A man I loved. A 
	man who disappeared.

DEBI'S P.O.V.

of Martin walking back into the station.

			  DEBI
	A man who's walking back into the 
	station.

Martin comes into the booth. The temperature rises as they 
square off.

INT. COUNTRY SQUIRE -

			  LARDNER
	Well?

			  MCCULLERS
	I don't think so.

			  LARDNER
	Well, remember when Frysal's men 
	paid off the Deejay in Cairo to 
	announce a bogus press conference in 
	the --

			  MCCULLERS
	--Nooo--

			  LARDNER
	--Yes. And the Munich Olympics in 
	'72. A local radio station started 
	broadcasting news of the massacre 
	two minutes before it happened.

McCullers is not to be outdone.

			  MCCULLERS
	That's strictly Bāader-Meinhof stuff.

			  LARDNER
	It was the PLO.

			  MCCULLERS
	Whatever.

INT. DEEJAY BOOTH

Martin and Debi locked in a passionate embrace. They break 
away.

			  DEBI
	Sit.

Martin obeys. Debi clandestinely flips the "ON-AIR" switch 
as she drops into her chair. The "ON-AIR" light bar goes on 
above and behind Martin. Unbeknownst to him their conversation 
is put out over the airwaves.

			  DEBI
	All right mystery man. I want some 
	answers. Let's recap. Spring of '84. 
	Two young lovers with frightening 
	natural chemistry. The girl sits in 
	a seven-hundred dollar prom dress at 
	her father's house waiting for the 
	most romantic night of her young 
	life. The boy never shows up, until 
	now. So, what's the question?

			  MARTIN
	Where have I been?

			  DEBI
	More like what happened? What 
	happened, Mr. Blank?

			  MARTIN
	I don't know exactly. I could venture 
	a guess but it would sound like a 
	rationalization... I thought you 
	know... maybe seeing you, some 
	friends, my house... of course now a 
	7-11--

			  DEBI
	--Torn down in the name of convenience--

			  MARTIN
	--and I guess, sure, seeing you would 
	be part of that whole equation... I 
	suppose the most important thing, 
	really. I don't know. Anyway, this 
	whole thing's my therapist's idea. 
	It's my shrink, really.

			  DEBI
	Ohhh. You're in therapy too, Marty?

			  MARTIN
	You see someone?

			  DEBI
	Uh, no. So you're back now, a decade 
	later, and you want to sort things 
	out with me. The question now is, do 
	I allow you... access... to my being?

Martin says nothing.

			  DEBI
	All right then. Would you like to 
	share any more deeply personal 
	thoughts with our listening audience 
	before we go to our phone poll and 
	see how the folks in radioland come 
	down on this one?

A beat as Martin realizes he's been had. He seems about to 
bolt.

			  DEBI
	Should a broken-hearted girl give a 
	guy a second chance at love....

Debi jabs a phone line on the console.

			  DEBI
		(HARD)
	You're on the air.

Martin deflates.

			  OLD WOMAN'S VOICE
	I think this young man has avoided 
	the question completely. Has not 
	discussed "what happened" nor if 
	he's sorry for what he has done. 
	Therefore, I don't see any reason 
	why you should see him until he fully 
	discloses his intentions and feelings.

			  DEBI
	Thank you caller.

Stabs another line.

			  DEBI
	You're on the air.

			  DUMB GUY VOICE
	Are you there?

			  DEBI
	Yes.

			  DUMB GUY VOICE
	No, the guy.

Martin looks up, humiliated.

			  MARTIN
	Yeah....

			  DUMB GUY VOICE
	Uh... when you guys use to go out... 
	Did you guys ever... heh heh heh 
	heh... ever fuckin', ever totally 
	fuckin' heh heh heh-

			  DEBI
	Next caller.

			  GUFF MAN VOICE
	I don't know, Debi. Sounds like bad 
	gas to me. I would not allow him 
	access to your being.

			  DEBI
	Thank you.

			  DEBI
	Grosse Pointe Michigan, I hear you 
	loud and clear: "If you love something 
	set it free. If it comes back to you 
	it's, well...

She turns to him and shrugs apologetically.

			  DEBI
	...Broken...."

Martin has his answer.

EXT. RADIO STATION - DAY

Martin leaves the station, alone and beaten down.

			  MARTIN
	Dammit. Never trust my instincts.

He scans the main strip.

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

A MAN walks down the street. He is FELIX, a bookish, 
forgettable man in his forties, wearing Le Coq Sportif sweats 
and shoes. He looks as if he has a dark cloud over his head. 
Martin's seen him somewhere, and doesn't like what he 
remembers. Martin's POV TRACKS him.

FELIX'S P.O.V.

As he walks down the street, he spots the Country Squire, 
and eyes Lardner and McCullers in the front seat.

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

follows Felix's eyes to Lardner and McCullers and catches 
their look. Their eyes lock, neither wanting to betray that 
they've made each other. They all do a pretty good job. His 
P.O.V. swings to a square-jawed, hale fellow wearing dark 
sunglasses who is approaching directly and only a few feet 
away. The man is going for something in his breast pocket...

Reaches into his own jacket, most likely for a gun....

THE MAN

pulls out a glasses case, and takes off his shades-- He is 
PAUL SWIDERSKI.

MARTIN AND PAUL

Martin relaxes.

			  PAUL
		(grinning ear-to-ear)
	Hell, I would've voted for you, but 
	there's all this apple sauce stuck 
	in my phone... I don't wanna talk 
	about it. How the hell are you?!
		(extends his hand)
	Here's five good ones!

No trace of recognition on Martin's face.

			  PAUL
	Marty! It's me. Paul.

			  MARTIN
		(realizing)
	Paul?

			  PAUL
		(re: hand)
	You're leaving me hanging here...

They shake. Martin looks him up and down, astonished at the 
respectable veneer of his old burn-out friend.

			  PAUL
	Hey. Give me a break.

INT. PAUL'S BMW - DAY

Martin and Paul rive through Grosse Pointe, Michigan: Wide 
streets lined with huge, shady oaks. Castle-like homes on 
golf-course green lawns. A comfortable, Midwestern Beverly 
Hills. They are cruising their old haunts, Paul smoking a 
joint.

			  PAUL
	This won't take but a minute. I just 
	gotta hold their hands for a final 
	walk-through. I'll take them in, get 
	'em out, then you and I can grab a 
	little quality time.

Martin looks out the window, breathing in the past.

			  PAUL
	Goddamn, It's good to see you. I was 
	afraid you joined a cult or something. 
	I half-expected you to come back to 
	town in a fennel wreath and paper 
	pants.

Paul offers Martin the joint. He declines.

			  MARTIN
	There was no money in it.

Martin regards Paul archly.

			  MARTIN
		(grinning)
	So what happened to you?

			  PAUL
	Same thing that happened to you-- I 
	stopped poutin' there on the 
	sidelines. Got in. Got on the team.  
	I joined the working week, you slick 
	fucking asshole, so why don't you 
	valet park your high horse and take 
	it easy on your old buddy, Paul.

			  MARTIN
	Fair enough.

Beat.

			  PAUL
	God it's great to see you.

			  MARTIN
	You too.

EXT. FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT HOUSE - DAY

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

of a lovely YOUNG COUPLE on the front porch of a mid-sized 
Wright home... Perhaps that could be him if things were 
different, but for now it feels like along shot. Paul is 
hawking the house to them out of earshot.

			  SOUTHTEC GUARD (V.O.)
	Well, we do what we have to do if we 
	find you on the property. But we 
	don't really enforce the law, we 
	execute company policy for homeowners.

MARTIN AND THE GUARD

standing in the driveway.

			  MARTIN
	So when are you authorized to use 
	deadly force?

			  SOUTHTEC GUARD
	Well, a 'course, taxes provide your 
	basic service-- police and whatnot. 
	But our customers need a little more 
	than just that, you understand? This 
	badge doesn't mean that I am a peace 
	officer.

The woman turns at Martin and smiles. Martin smiles back.

			  MARTIN
	So it's not a meaningful symbol, or 
	anything. That badge is just the 
	badge of your company. If I look 
	suspicious on your customers' property--
	well, under those heightened 
	circumstances you have the authority 
	to, ah... To shoot me.

			  SOUTHTEC GUARD
	To shoot you. Correct.

			  MARTIN
	How did you get this job?

			  SOUTHTEC GUARD
	Well, they were hiring, and it was 
	only a two week course...

			  MARTIN
		(pleasantly)
	Wow.

Paul walks the happy couple down the steps.

			  PAUL
		(to couple)
	...What more can I say.

			  HUSBAND
		(smiling)
	We'll talk soon.

			  PAUL
		(much hand gesturing)
	You'll be raising your new family in 
	a work of art. A work of art in a 
	work of art.

Paul looks at Martin and the Guard, inviting them into the 
sell.

			  SOUTHTEC GUARD
	I'm sure you'll be very happy.

All look to Martin....

			  MARTIN
		(heartfelt)
	When my time comes, if it ever does, 
	I want a beautiful, normal place 
	like this... and a wife like you...

All are confused. Martin thumbs to the guard.

			  MARTIN
	...and you'll be safe here...

Paul looks at his shoes and rolls his shoulders.

EXT. FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT HOUSE

Lardner and McCullers sit in the wagon, watching the house 
in the distance.

INT. PAUL'S BMW - LATER

Martin and Paul cut through a particularly charming 
neighborhood.

			  PAUL
	Now. I don't make a habit of pimping 
	my friends, but there is one prime 
	little piece of land that you must 
	see...

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

A sprawling gingerbread mansion rises into view. A long and 
winding driveway cuts through thickly wooded property to the 
house.

			  MARTIN (V.O.)
	Debi's house.

			  PAUL (V.O.)
	Kind of crept up on you, didn't it?

C.U. OF MARTIN

			  MARTIN
	No. You drove us here.

			  PAUL
	Yeah, but it's still kind of eerie, 
	isn't it?

			  MARTIN
	No.

Martin's not listening. His eyes track the house out the 
window.

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

of the mansion.

They roll slowly by Debi's house.

They drive in silence for a beat. Paul suddenly swerves to 
the shoulder, jams the brake, and turns on Martin.

			  PAUL
	Ten years. What happened!?

			  MARTIN
	I freaked out, joined the Army, worked 
	for the government, and went into 
	business for myself... I'm a 
	professional killer.

			  PAUL
	Thank you.

Paul, satisfied, gets back on the road.

			  PAUL
	Professional killer, huh? Does that 
	come with a good HMO?

EXT. ROAD - DAY

Paul makes a turn. They approach a large car dealership. The 
sign above it says

	  "DESTEPHANO'S BAVARIAN MOTOR WORKS"

			  MARTIN
		(looking ahead)
	He sells BMW's?

			  PAUL
	He sold me this bad boy.

			  MARTIN
	How could you put your hard-earned 
	dollars into the hands of the class 
	bully?

			  PAUL
	He gave me a great deal.

			  MARTIN
	Mein Dealer.

Paul slows outside the lot. BOB DESTEPHANO-- a big, angry-
looking man in an expensive suit-- stands in the lot, puffing 
up amidst his stable of expensive cars.

			  PAUL
	Hey! Bob! The car's running great.

			  BOB
		(dismissive)
	Glad to hear it.

Bob turns his back on them and begins to walk away.

			  MARTIN
		(shouts)
	Bob...

			  BOB
		(turning)
	What?

			  MARTIN
	It's me. Martin Blank.

			  BOB
	Really...? So what?

			  MARTIN
	Okay. See you later.

EXT. RADIO STATION - NIGHT

Martin climbs out of Paul's car and begins to walk toward 
his own. Paul calls after him.

			  PAUL
	See you at the left-a-boy-came-back-
	a-man-made-good party.

Martin nods him off. Paul pulls away.

MARTIN

stands across the street from the radio station, looking at 
Debi in the window... Martin draws a thin rifle scope from 
his back pocket, and lifts it to his eye...

MARTIN'S P.O.V. - SCOPE

of Debi, in the crosshairs, bored, tapping a pencil to the 
beat of an unheard song.

MARTIN

dejected. He puts the scope away and gets in his car.

INT. 7-11 - NIGHT

Martin walks into the store, looking around once again at 
his old home. To the left of the door, a typical suburban 
teenage SKATEBOARDER is lost in the "Mortal Combat" video 
game and something too loud from his walkman. Carl, still 
working the double, nods to Martin.

			  CARL
	Can I help you?

			  MARTIN
	What's done is done.

Martin moves up one aisle to the gum rack. He picks out a 
pack of Beaman's and unwraps a stick as he heads to the 
counter. On the way, he makes a black Town Car pulling into 
a spot next to his own. He immediately changes course, and 
bee-lines for a rear aisle where he ducks down...

FELIX

Comes through the door, drawing a Mac-10 for each hand.

MARTIN

grabs the gum out of his mouth and sticks it onto the bottom 
of the Glock .9mm he has produced from somewhere in his suit.

CARL

grabs the cash drawer, sets it on the counter, and puts his 
hands up.

THE SKATEBOARDER

Plays on.

FELIX AND CARL

Felix shoots CARL DEAD on his way toward

MARTIN

Bolts up the cooler aisle. Bursts of FIRE follow him, taking 
out each freezer door behind him.

MARTIN AND FELIX

EXCHANGE FIRE John Woo-style between the aisles of the cramped 
store. Felix delivers a close-to-home burst as he jumps the 
counter, sending Martin diving out of view.

MARTIN

pinned behind the Slurpee machine, pauses to reload his now 
two Glock nines. Martin steals a glance to get a bead on 
Felix and is met with a salvo that rocks the Slurpee machine, 
spattering him with several flavors... and that's all he can 
take. Martin comes up BLASTING with both guns, but all that's 
left of Felix is swinging doors and squealing tires.

Martin moves to the cashier island, low to the ground.

THE SKATEBOARDER

Twitches and jerks, still absorbed in his game and oblivious 
to the surrounding carnage.

CASHIER ISLAND

Martin crawls through the waist-level swinging door and moves 
to Carl.

CARL

is really dead. Martin rolls him over to check it out and 
finds

A BOMB

under the corpse.

MARTIN

Flips the corpse back on top of the device and leaps the 
counter toward the doors. He grabs the shoulder or the 
Skateboarder, who shrugs him off, annoyed--

			  SKATEBOARDER
	What the fuck, man?!

The video game screen explodes. Shot full of Martin's bullets. 
The Skateboarder reacts backward and Martin jerks him out of 
the double doors.

EXT. 7-11 - CONTINUOUS

The Skateboarder is running like crazy, and Martin's car is 
peeling out in reverse as the 7-11 is blown to hell.

INT. MARTIN'S CAR - MOMENTS LATER

Martin's hair is matted with Slurpee as he tries to drive 
and cool out. He sees his do in the mirror, pulls out a comb 
and starts to comb it back into a slick Pat Riley style.

EXT. RADIO STATION - NIGHT

Martin walks in, not looking half bad, considering. Debi 
looks up from some reading. "Naīve Melody" by the Talking 
Heads plays in the studio.

			  MARTIN
	Are you going to the reunion?

			  DEBI
	No. I'm not going. Is that why you're 
	here?

			  MARTIN
	That's part of it.

			  DEBI
	Well, you'll have a ball. You seem 
	to have everything everybody wants 
	when they go back. The car, the suit, 
	the watch. The look. That just leaves 
	the little things, like happiness, 
	character, point of view...

			  MARTIN
	It's always the little things.

			  DEBI
	Yep.

Beat.

			  MARTIN
	I'm wondering how you've been. How 
	you are. I'd like to catch up with 
	you. If it's possible.

Beat as Debi considers. She spins her seat to face him.

			  DEBI
	Okay. Let's catch up. You go first.

			  MARTIN
	Well, there's not much to tell.

			  DEBI
	I'm sure you've done worthwhile things 
	in the last ten years. You've had 
	experiences.

			  MARTIN
	Bad experiences.

			  DEBI
	You met people.

			  MARTIN
	Bad people.

			  DEBI
	Watched television?

			  MARTIN
	Bad television.

			  DEBI
		(amused)
	Jesus. Marty. You're pathetic. It 
	sounds like you need a Shockabuku.

			  MARTIN
	What's that?

			  DEBI
	It's a swift spiritual kick to the 
	head that alters your reality forever.

			  MARTIN
	That'd be good.

Beat.

			  DEBI
	What do you want?

The question is open.

			  MARTIN
	I figured I could pick you up tomorrow 
	around seven o'clock.

			  DEBI
	Let me get this straight, are you 
	asking me out?

			  MARTIN
	Yes.

			  DEBI
	Unbelievable.

			  MARTIN
	Seven it is.

			  DEBI
	I'll think about it.

EXT. JOSHUA TREE CAMPSITE - NIGHT

Under a crisp and starry night, a man and a woman sit around 
a campfire. As we MOVE CLOSER we see that the woman is 
Marcella reading, "Women Who Run With Wolves."  She tends to 
s'mores on the campfire, assembles one, and hands it to MONTY, 
her young outdoorsman boyfriend. Monty is perched on a small 
boulder, engaged in a Tai-Chi-like ritual, wearing Patagonia's 
finest. There is a path of crystals leading from the fire to 
the boulder. In the background is a tent and a Nissan 
Pathfinder. Monty's watch goes off.

			  MONTY
	Baby, it's eight o'clock.

Marcella gets up.

			  MARCELLA
	Thanks, Monty.

She tousles Monty's hair on the way to the truck.

INT. TRUCK - CONTINUOUS

Marcella gets in. She shuts the door and dials the phone.

			  MARCELLA
	Hey there, how'd it go?

INT. MARTIN'S SUITE - NIGHT - INTERCUT

Martin sits on the edge of the bed in a towel.

			  MARTIN
	It isn't done.

Marcella pauses, taking this in.

			  MARCELLA
	This is not good.

			  MARTIN
	I'll do it tomorrow.

Marcella considers this.

			  MARCELLA
	What's it look like?

			  MARTIN
	It's fine.

			  MARCELLA
	You haven't looked at the dossier.

			  MARTIN
		(a little defensive)
	I've looked at it.

Martin eyes the vent.

			  MARCELLA
	You have.

			  MARTIN
	Yes. It's the same as usual. Nothing 
	remarkable about it at all.

			  MARCELLA
	I have to call the client and give 
	them a reason why you're late.

			  MARTIN
	Tell them my house exploded.

Beat. Marcella doesn't know what to make of this.

			  MARCELLA
	I'll call them and tell them you're 
	taking your time. Being a 
	professional.

			  MARTIN
	Okay, call them. Fine. Oh-- And if 
	you could find out why they double-
	booked the job, and who is trying to 
	kill me, and call me back-- that's 
	be great.

			  MARCELLA
	Will do.

Martin hangs up. He moves up to the air vent, deciding to 
get down to business. He pries it open, and withdraws his 
briefcase, putting it down on the bed and propping it open. 
He looks at the unopened dossier for a moment, flips it over 
in his hands, and tosses it on the bed.

BRIEFCASE

We catch a glimpse of Martin's weapons. Martin picks up the 
envelope and is about to tear the seal when

THE PHONE RINGS

Martin drops the envelope and lifts the receiver.

			  DEBI
		(filtered)
	Are you there?

			  MARTIN
	Yes.

			  DEBI
	Pick me up at my father's house at 
	around seven. And don't be late this 
	time.

Beat.

			  DEBI
	Hello...?

			  MARTIN
	This night, this reunion will be an 
	important step in our relationship.

			  DEBI
	You're fucking psycho.

			  MARTIN
	Don't rush to judgement until all 
	the facts are in.

She hangs up. Martin smiles and replaces the receiver. He 
turns to the apparatus laid out on the bed.

GUNS, BULLETS, ETC.

What has been his life is beginning to look more like death 
to him. He places the envelope in the case, then returns the 
case to its hiding place.

EXT. DINER - DAY

Lardner and McCullers stake out Martin from the Country Squire 
across the street.

			  MCCULLERS
	I wish he'd do his job already so we 
	could do our job.

			  LARDNER
	We can't do our job unless he does 
	his job.

			  MCCULLERS
	Why don't we just do his job then, 
	so we can do our job, and get the 
	fuck out of here.

			  LARDNER
	Do his job? I'm not a cold-blooded 
	killer.

			  MCCULLERS
	Wait a minute--

			  LARDNER
	-Look. You want to kill a Good Guy, 
	but not be a Bad Guy, you wait until 
	a Bad Guy kills the Good Guy, and 
	then you come in and kill the Bad 
	Guy, and then you're the Good Guy.

			  MCCULLERS
	So if we do his job, we're the bad 
	guys. If we do our job, we're the 
	good guys.

			  LARDNER
	Yup.

They both laugh, as if at some great joke. Their laughter is 
caught short by the sight of

LARDNER AND MCCULLERS' POV

			  GROCER
	moving into the diner.

INT. DINER - LATE MORNING

Martin sits in a window booth splitting nutrient caplets 
into an apple juice and looking out the window.

GROCER

slides into the booth, across from Martin.

MARTIN AND GROCER

Martin draws a nasty little PPK pistol from his waist, and 
levels it at Grocer under the table-- but Grocer is already 
drawing his pistol down there, and there is an instant Mexican 
breakfast stand-off.

			  GROCER
	Easy, tiger.

A waitress approaches.

			  WAITRESS
	Hi. Welcome to B.I. McCafferty's. My 
	name is Melanie and I'll be your 
	server this morning. Let me tell you 
	about some of our specials. Today we 
	have the "Alfalfa on My Mind," our 
	feature omelette. And there's our 
	"Gatsby's West Egg Omelette." And if 
	you're in the mood for something 
	different there's the "I left my 
	heart in San Franchezie."

Martin and Grocer's eyes remain locked.

			  GROCER
	I want two eggs poached, hash brown 
	well-done. English muffin for the 
	bread. And a coffee.

			  MARTIN
	Whole-grain pancakes. And an egg-
	white omelette.

			  WAITRESS
	What would you like in the omelette?

			  MARTIN
	Nothing in the omelette. Nothing at 
	all.

The waitress nods pertly and leaves.

			  GROCER
		(re: the omelette)
	Come on, live a little. I'm sorry 
	about the incident yesterday.

			  MARTIN
	No harm no foul.

			  GROCER
	A little misunderstanding among my 
	associates.

Beat.

			  GROCER
	I told them to kill you and they 
	didn't.

			  MARTIN
	Hard to get good help these days.

			  GROCER
	But since we're both here, I think 
	it's time to take a fresh look at 
	our relationship.

			  MARTIN
	I didn't get into this business to 
	have "associates." And I don't want 
	to join your Goddamned union. "Loner--
	" "Loner gunman." Get it? "On my 
	own." That's the whole point. Why 
	don't you become a cop, or something. 
	You can drink coffee in the morning... 
	with friends!

Grocer looks a little hurt.

			  MARTIN
		(easing up)
	Look, this is a one-on-one business... 
	Every time you get to know people, 
	bad things happen. If it'll make you 
	feel any better, this is my last 
	job. So what do you say we put our 
	guns away and forget the whole damn 
	thing.

Grocer loses it.

			  GROCER
	Fuck you! No scabs! From now on, 
	everything's regulated!

Long beat as Grocer gets a hold of himself.

			  MARTIN
	No deal.

			  GROCER
	Fine. But we're not going to let you 
	do your job. Because we're gonna do 
	it. And then, after we do your job, 
	we're gonna do another little job...

			  MARTIN
		(Wry)
	Is that right?

			  GROCER
	Yeah-- after I shoot you through the 
	fucking forehead I'm gonna fuck you 
	in the bullethole.

			  MARTIN
	Nice talk, Sugarmouth.

INT. SUITE - BATHROOM - NIGHT

Martin sits at a desk, staring at the reunion card. He tosses 
it aside, gets up, and moves in front of a mirror. He wears 
a crisp black suit and practices his greeting smile...

			  MARTIN
		(trying on smile)
	Yes, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell 
	couch insurance. I test-market 
	positive thinking. I lead a weekend 
	men's group, actually. We specialize 
	in ritual killings. I'm hungry, are 
	you hungry, I'm hungry, oooh, ooh.
		(sarcastic)
	Hi, I'm Martin Blank, remember me?  
	I'm not married, I have no kids and 
	I'd blow your brains out if someone 
	paid me enough... So how've you been? 
	Where do you stand on The Issues? 
	Are you Left? Right? Up, down, proud, 
	shamed, blahblahblahblah--

EXT. DEBI'S HOUSE - EARLY EVENING

Martin makes his way up the walk leading to the front door, 
holding a simple bouquet of flowers. He skips up the front 
steps and finds the doorbell. After a moment, Debi answers.

			  DEBI
	Flowers. That's funny.

			  MARTIN
	As long as I get the laugh.

			  DEBI
		(taking them)
	Here. Let me put these in some rubbing 
	alcohol.

She backs into the house, and he follows.

INT. NEWBERRY FOYER - CONTINUOUS

Martin follows Debi into the hall. Both are enjoying this 
atavistic ritual.

			  MARTIN
	You look beautiful.

			  DEBI
	Okay... Hold on...

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

through a doorway leading into a den. All that's visible of 
MR. NEWBERRY, Debi's father, is a pair of legs resting in a 
Barcolounger.

			  DEBI (V.O.)
	...Let me get my coat.

			  MARTIN
	I'll just help myself to a cocktail.

DEBI

moves up the stairs and disappears.

MARTIN

looks at the legs, rolls his shoulders, and heads into the 
den.

INT. DEN - CONTINUOUS

Mr. Newberry sits in the recliner reading a Tom Clancy novel. 
He is a corporate Aspen-dude-ranch sort with a good head of 
hair. He sighs, closes the book on his knee and looks up to 
Martin.

			  MARTIN
	Good evening, Mr. Newberry.

			  MR. NEWBERRY
	Good evening, Mr. Blank.

			  MARTIN
	How are you? How's business?

			  MR. NEWBERRY
	Martin, I don't know where you've 
	been since you abandoned my daughter 
	ten years ago, and I don't care. It 
	was good that you left, and I'm glad 
	you did. So what do you want to talk 
	about? You've grown up a bit. Maybe 
	I had you figured wrong.

			  MARTIN
	How's that?

			  MR. NEWBERRY
	I visualized you, in a haze, as one 
	of the slackster, flannel-wearing, 
	coffeehouse-misanthropes I've been 
	seeing in Newsweek.

			  MARTIN
	I took the other road. I'm more of a 
	self-reflective young lion who does 
	business with lead-pipe cruelty and 
	goes home to drink light beer in 
	milky-eyes isolation. I love sports 
	and sex and have no real relationships 
	with anyone. And you?

			  MR. NEWBERRY
	Oh, you know me, Martin. I'm the 
	same old sell-out baby-boomer, 
	exploiting the oppressed I got shot 
	for at Kent State. But why don't we 
	have a drink and forget the whole 
	thing?

Newberry lays down his book, and moves behind the wet bar.

			  MARTIN
	Why not?

			  MR. NEWBERRY
	So what are you doing with your life 
	now, son?

			  MARTIN
	I'm a professional killer.

			  MR. NEWBERRY
	That's good.

Debi's footsteps are heard coming down the stairs.

			  DEBI (O.S.)
	Okay

Mr. Newberry watches Martin turn and walk out of the room.

EXT. DEBI'S HOUSE

Martin and Debi pull away from the curb.

INT. CAR - DUSK

Martin and Debi drive through that to Debi is town, and to 
Martin is a widening pool of quicksand.

			  MARTIN
	Do you want to get a drink first?

			  DEBI
	I think they'll probably have booze 
	there.

			  MARTIN
	Right.

Martin's right hand shakes off of the wheel a bit. He grips 
it tighter. Suddenly, Martin turns the wheel and pulls into 
a gas station parking lot, halting next to a pay phone.

			  MARTIN
	I'll just be a second.

Debi nods, a little confused but going with it.

			  DEBI
	Okay...

EXT. PAYPHONE - MINUTES LATER

Martin stands at the kiosk next to the Town Car, mid-
conversation.

			  MARTIN
		(defensive)
	...Well, I didn't kill anyone, but 
	someone tried to kill me and the guy 
	in the middle got killed. So if I 
	see that guy again I'm definitely 
	going to kill him, but I won't kill 
	anyone else. Oh, except for the guy 
	I was sent here to kill. I don't 
	know...

INT. OATMAN'S OFFICE - INTERCUT

Oatman treats his patient.

			  DR. OATMAN
	What else? Say more.

			  MARTIN
	Saw my mom... I'm with Debi, and I'm 
	on my way to the reunion.

In the background, Lardner and McCullers drive past the 
station.

			  DR. OATMAN
	Okay. Repeat this after me.

			  MARTIN
	Out Loud?

Martin looks to Debi. She looks up and smiles. We hear Dr. 
Oatman's command, Martin mumbles them back.

			  MARTIN
	...I am at home with the me. I am 
	rooted in me, who is on this 
	adventure.

			  DR. OATMAN
	Take a deep breath and realize, that 
	this is me breathing.

			  MARTIN
	This is me breating.

Martin takes in a few breaths.

			  MARITN
	Alright, look. I gotta go.

			  DR. OATMAN
	And don't kill anyone.

			  MARTIN
	Right. Don't kill anyone...

INT. MARTIN'S SUITE - SAME

Felix rummages delicately around the room. He goes to the

NIGHTSTAND

The reunion invite.

FELIX

picks it up and scans it.

EXT. GROSSE POINT HIGH SCHOOL - DUSK

Lardner and McCullers sit it the parking lot. They watch 
Martin and Debi pull into a space.

			  LARDNER
	He's falling for her. Look at him.

			  MCCULLERS
	He using her.

			  LARDNER
	You're wrong. Look at his face.

			  MCCULLERS
	One cannot love and kill.

			  LARDNER
		(defensive)
	I love. I kill.

MARTIN AND DEBI

climb out of the car. Martin, breathing deeply and wiping 
his sweaty palms, leans against the car and tries to calm 
himself. Eighties music echoes from the gym.

			  MARTIN
		(to himself)
	Shoulda brought my gun.

			  DEBI
	What?

He pulls himself off the car and heads toward

GROSSE POINTE HIGH SCHOOL

A sprawling red-brick Gothic structure with many wings. It 
is topped by church-like towers. It's scary.

INT. GYM - NIGHT

Martin and Debi enter and pause to take in the entire scene. 
A benevolent Ronald Reagan hangs crookedly above. Basketball 
nets are swung back, draped with crepe. Lights are half-low 
and the music is loud. Alumni are dancing.

			  ARLENE
	Welcome back! I'm Arlene Oslott-
	Joseph.

			  MARTIN
	I'm Martin Blank.

			  DEBI
	Debi Newberry.

Debi heads off into the gym, smiling back as she strands 
Martin. Arlene rises from a card table. They have little to 
say. Martin wasn't part of her crowd.

			  ARLENE
	Marty, you haven't changed a bit!

			  MARTIN
	Don't say that.

Arlene gives him a NAMETAG. As a special torture, the tags 
have YEARBOOK PHOTOS. Martin looks at the name tag 
uncomfortably.

			  ARLENE
	We had pictures put on, that way 
	everybody knows who everybody was!

			  MARTIN
	Wonderful.

			  ARLENE
	So, what are you doing now?

			  MARTIN
	Whatever I can get away with.

She smiles at his joke and is immediately distracted by the 
next arrival. Martin moves off...

			  ARLENE
		(to the next person)
	Isn't it cute. It's so everybody 
	knows who everybody was!

He circles the crowded gym. Looking for familiar faces. He 
stops at the open bar.

			  BATENDER
	What can I make you?

			  MARTIN
	Beer.

The bartender gets him a beer. Martin recognizes a guy at 
the bar. He is well-appointed and shiny. He is KEN ALDRIDGE.

			  MARTIN
	Hey, Ken. How have you been?

			  KEN
		(glancing at Martin's 
		name tag)
	Hello Martin. How have you been?

			  MARTIN
	Not bad. You?

Bob Destephano arrives next to them and orders a drink. Eye 
contact is made.

			  KEN
	Hello, Bob.

			  MARTIN
	Hey, Bob.

Bob turns slightly toward them. They continue in their 
conversation.

			  KEN
	I'm an attorney. I'm with Moss, Brice 
	& Fromeyer.

			  MARTIN
	That sounds pretty interesting...

Bob wants to join the conversation but doesn't know how.

			  KEN
	Sometimes. I'm in divorce, mainly. 
	Some property. Some personal injury.

			  MARTIN
	Those all seem kind of related...

Bob takes another drink and mopes off, Martin watches him 
go.

			  MARTIN
	Tragedy makes you thirsty.

Ken chuckles. The bartender arrives with the bottle. Martin 
grabs it and begins to move off.

			  MARTIN
	Well... I have to take this over to 
	Debi.

			  KEN
	Here. Take my card. Wait a minute... 
	here's a special one. For top-shelf 
	clients.

Ken hands Martin a Monte Blanc pen with Ken's title and 
business address printed on the shaft. Martin reads it and 
puts it in his kerchief pocket.

			  MARTIN
	Thanks.

Ken goes back to listening to the Guys at the bar.

MARTIN

makes his way through the upbeat crowd of well-wishers. TERRY 
emerges like an inkspot on a clean white whirt, and intercepts 
Martin. His angst is barely under control as he sidles up to 
Martin.

			  TERRY
	I don't know, Blank, all these fucking 
	people, driving me crazy. Look at 
	them over there, memorializing old 
	times, acting all like it was 
	something "life-changing." And the 
	people in the National Honor Society? 
	The name tags?

Martin shrugs.

			  TERRY
	They have special blue starts on 
	them like it fucking matters now 
	that they were in the honor club ten 
	years ago. I'm getting fucking 
	nauseous from all this sentimental 
	bullshit. It's making me sick.

Terry stops suddenly as if he's finished. Martin reads this 
man's nametag.

			  MARTIN
	Why are you here... Terry?

Terry turns on a dime.

			  TERRY
	I wanted to see a couple people. But 
	I don't want to talk about the old 
	days... What did we have together, 
	Martin? Typing?

			  MARTIN
		(remembering)
	Drafting.

			  TERRY
	Yeah, I couldn't stand that fucking 
	class. But I appreciate you helping 
	me out, man.

			  MARTIN
	Don't mention it.

			  TERRY
	Yeah, thanks. Well I'm going to try 
	and get out of here, man. I'll see 
	you later.

Terry slinks off.

BAR - SAME

Bob Destephano grabs two more scotches off the bar and turns 
to leave, thoroughly morose. In his path, he finds DAN 
KORETZKY, the good-looking side of brainy.

			  DAN
	Bob. Bob Destephano.

			  BOB
	What?

			  DAN
	I'm Dan. Dan Koretzky.

			  BOB
	Computer guy.

			  DAN
	Yeah... Hey, I saw you at your dad's 
	dealership the other day.

			  BOB
	I sell BMW's. What do you do?

			  DAN
	Not much, actually. My software 
	company just went public so I'm 
	just... hanging out, really.

There's a sudden lull in the conversation. Bob tries his 
drunken hand at relating...

			  BOB
	Remember high school?

			  DAN
	Sure. Listen. Why don't you join us 
	up in the grandstands?

Dan points up to a group of happy, laughing people. Bob walks 
off shaking his head and smiling bitterly.

INT. GYM - LATER

Debi and Martin are seated at a round table with six others 
in an area blocked off for dinner. Plates of gumbo are 
arriving and the wine is poured. DARIUS, an African-American, 
is in mid-conversation with AMY, who looks like she walked 
out of a Laura Ashley catalog and sits on the other side of 
Martin. DENNIS and MIKE are two suits in the midst of a non-
stop sports conversation.

			  MIKE
	...You gotta hold the fans 
	responsible, though, Dennis, because 
	they're the ones putting up with the 
	mediocre product.

			  DENNIS
	I guess, though, you know, if you 
	look at it Mike, that park is a 
	beautiful park, I've gone to that 
	park many times - I've had the 
	greatest time of my life at that 
	ballpark and let's face it, I tell 
	you this, Mike, by the sixth inning, 
	if you're having the fun you should 
	be having at Tigers Stadium, you 
	don't even know what the hell's going 
	on anyway...

They both crack up at this.

ANGLE ON DARIUS, MARTIN, & DEBI

			  DARIUS
	Have you two been together since 
	high school?

			  DEBI
	No--

			  MARTIN
	--Yes. Actually we just bought that 
	little Frank Lloyd Wright on Pine 
	Avenue... Debi's a social worker and 
	I mow down insurance claims at Aetna--

			  DEBI
	We haven't seen each other since 
	high school.

			  DARIUS
	I figured. You two look too happy 
	together. I shouldn't say that though, 
	I'm married... So, Martin-- what are 
	you up to these days? What do you do 
	for a living?

Debi perks up; this should be interesting.

			  MARTIN
	I'm in pro-active international 
	relations. It's a very specialized 
	company. We execute economic 
	investment opportunities. Sort of 
	economic clean-up... with an emphasis 
	on personnel. It's boring, you know, 
	it's boring. I don't like to talk 
	about it because I don't think what 
	a man does necessarily reflects who 
	he is...

Martin begins to draw strange looks from all over the table. 
Martin may be in trouble.

			  MARTIN
	...I've always tried to refrain from 
	a black-and-white moral lexicon--you 
	know, good, bad, right, wrong--I've 
	been more interested in the gray 
	areas.

Silence. Martin pushes on.

			  MARTIN
	But that's no way to live. I guess 
	you've got to just take the leap of 
	faith. Believe in something. Fuck 
	it.

			  DARIUS
	Sounds complicated, Martin. Are you 
	happy?

			  MARTIN
	I just have to close this one last 
	account. I'd like to just stop now, 
	today, but I can't... It's a step in 
	the right direction.

			  DEBI
	I don't know, Martin. It sounds like 
	you're feeling compromised. Live the 
	way you want. The only thing that's 
	inexcusable, to me, is cynicism. 
	That's the biggest cop-out there is.

Nods of assent come from around the table. A brief silence, 
and then...

			  AMY
	But wait. I still don't understand 
	what you do.

			  MARTIN
	I work at Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Debi suppresses a laugh.

			  AMY
	You do not.

			  MARTIN
	Yes I do.

			  AMY
	You don't...

			  MARTIN
	In the corporate offices.

			  AMY
	Oh... really?

			  MARTIN
	Yeah...

			  AMY
	What do you do?

			  MARTIN
	I sell biscuits to the Southland.

			  AMY
	You do not.

			  MARTIN
	It's what I do.

			  AMY
	You're so funny...

			  MARTIN
	I sell biscuits and gravy all over 
	the Southland--

			  AMY
	--Stop it--

			  MARTIN
	You know those horsey biscuit gravy 
	packets? I move all of those--

			  AMY
	--No.

			  MARTIN
	Sometimes we sell them to McDonald's 
	and just change them to special 
	barbecue sauce.

Across the table from Martin and Debi, Dennis turns to Darius.

			  DENNIS
	What do you think about black coaching 
	in the NFL, Darius? Because I think 
	it's great.

			  DARIUS
	I don't pay much attention to 
	football.

			  MIKE
	I have to agree with you Dennis. 
	It's good to see that the owners are 
	willing to put the franchise behind 
	a black head coach or QB when for 
	years in the league they've been 
	kept out of the thinking positions 
	and relegated mainly to the physical 
	game.

			  DENNIS
	But now, you see, you have Warren 
	Moon at the helm, Cunningham, Art 
	Shell, and the coach up at 
	Minnesota...

			  MIKE
	Dennis Green. And if you remember, 
	Doug Williams was the first black 
	man to prove that on a Superbowl 
	Sunday.

Amy leans in to Martin.

			  AMY
		(to Martin)
	I'm teaching art at Cedar Junior 
	High School.

			  DENNIS
	...Yeah, listen. Where do you stand 
	on this whole Louis Farrakhan 
	issue...?

			  DARIUS
		(facetious)
	I'm a De Klerk man myself.

Debi nods, indicating to the deejay stand.

			  DEBI
	I'm going over to play some tunes.

Martin watches her walk away.

INT. GYM - GRANDSTANDS - LATER

Dan Koretzky sits with two other FORMER-SQUARES-turned-
handsome-fellas who now enjoy a confidence that comes with 
early investment in Microsoft.

Martin looks out over the milieu below, enjoying the seene. 
He eavesdrops on a group of men from a few rows back.

GROUP OF MEN

			  DAN
	Look at her. There it is. Jenny 
	Slater. The finest thing that ever 
	walked these halls.

			  FORMER-SQUARE #2
	I believe she married the state of 
	Maine.

			  DAN
	Yeah, he's around here somewhere. 
	What a shame. She would have looked 
	great in my fucking Bentley.

			  FORMER-SQUARE #3
	No, my friends, Jenny Beam. Not only 
	was she as fine, if not finer, than 
	Slater, but she had the "bad girl" 
	thing going for her. And the red 
	hair. C'mon.

			  DAN
	She's a paramedic in Skokie, Illinois.

			  FORMER-SQUARE #2
	You both are mistaken. Jenny Maretti 
	was the finest. No question about 
	it.

			  FORMER-SQUARE #3
	The three Jenny's. Three Jenny's. 
	All named Jenny...

			  DAN
	You know what I'm really hoping? 
	That Jenny Slater gets divorced. And 
	she's twenty-eight--

			  FORMER-SQUARE #3
	--she's got half the state of Maine--

			  DAN
	She's twenty-eight years old, with 
	two kids, she's still really really 
	fine, and I see her at a bookstore 
	or something, and she sees me for 
	what I was then, and what I am now: 
	the redemption for all her failure.

			  FORMER-SQUARE #3
	You mean the redemption for all your 
	failure.

They ponder this. Martin looks down on the gym, concentrating 
on Debi.

BOB DESTEPHANO

Dancing drunkenly, miserable, like an unbalanced orangutan.

							   CUT TO:

INT. GYM - DEEJAY BOOTH - LATER

Martin stands by Debi as she sits in for a set in the deejay 
booth, on a raised stage. They are playing an old sophomoric 
game.

			  DEBI
	Which would you rather...?

			  MARTIN
	Okay... Would you rather... commit 
	yourself sexually to a four-by-nine 
	cell with former President George 
	Herbert Walker Bush dressed as a 
	super-model for a month, or make 
	love to a otter on crank for a week?

			  DEBI
	Soft. I'll take the junkie otter, 
	clearly! I'd let the little beast 
	scratch and claw all he wants... 
	Okay. Would you rather make love to 
	the candied corpse of Phyllis Diller--

			  MARTIN
	--She's not dead---

			  DEBI
	It's just a game...! Alright. Candied 
	Diller, or... wear a hot pork vest 
	across the desert with a fully 
	digested crab apple in your mouth?

			  MARTIN
	Wow. I have to give this some thought.

			  DEBI
	No time.

			  MARTIN
	Okay, then. Clearly candied Diller.

STACEY breaks the moment, looking up at the two, horrified 
and unsure at what she's heard.

			  STACEY
	Marty! Debi! How are you! So many 
	people came, but I never expected to 
	see you Marty. Or you Debi... I 
	mean... because of what your 
	divorce... I didn't mean to say that. 
	I just meant you look so good.

			  DEBI
	Thank you.

			  STACEY
	Do you think you could play "Too 
	Shy'" by Kaja Goo Goo?

			  DEBI
	Stacey, why don't you come up here 
	and take over for a little while?

			  STACEY
	I'd love to.

Stacey nods thanks and makes her way up into the booth as 
Martin and Debi make their way down.

			  DEBI
		(to Martin)
	Everybody thinks they know me now 
	that I'm divorced.

She leads Martin toward the exit.

			  DEBI
	It's time to see you in private.

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY

Martin and Debi walk down the hallway, alone together.

			  MARTIN
	Even though I left, you never left 
	me. Not just memory but a substance 
	in my blood.

			  DEBI
		(smiling)
	Like heroin?

			  MARTIN
	Too junky-kitschy. Deeper, deeper.

			  DEBI
		(enjoying this)
	Like love?

			  MARTIN
	Could be. The physical substance of 
	love.

Debi stops.

			  DEBI
	I'll accept that. Follow me.

Together they move into what appears to be the Nurse's Office, 
and close the door behind them.

INT. NURSE'S OFFICE

Martin and Debi make wild banshee love.

EXT. PARKING LOT - SAME

Lardner and McCullers watch Felix into the gym.

			  MCCULLERS
	Looks like someone keeps trying to 
	do our job for us.

			  LARDNER
	If he does our job, he's our job.

			  MCCULLERS
	I get it.

INT. GYM - SAME

FELIX

steps through the doorway he's standing in and strolls into 
the crowded gym. He wears the standard khaki-pants-blue-blazer 
combo, with no nametag. He's clearly too old for the class 
of 1984.

INT. HALLWAY - LATER

Martin and Debi come out of the Nurse's Office. The post-
coital mood is broken as they hear The Human League's "Don't 
You Want Me, Baby?"  blasting from the gym. Martin and Debi 
tune in on the song for a moment, unhappy at remembering 
that particular moment in pop music history. Debi looks to 
Martin, something must be done about it.

			  DEBI
	I'll be right back....

Debi kisses him. They split up. Martin walks off, the happiest 
we've seen him....

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY

Bob and several others from the muscle-to-fat crew play a 
drunken scrimmage with a papier-mache table ornament footbal 
that is coming unwound. Bob quarterbacks and begins to recite 
a long, complicated, and forgotten play. Martin approaches 
from behind Bob and glides through the ad-hoc line-up, 
continuing down the hall. Bob yells "hike" as he stares after 
Martin, distracted. Bob's rushed upon and sacked. He lets 
the papier-mache ball drop and crack on the floor.

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - LATER

Martin walks down a silent, deserted hall of lockers and 
classroom doors. The only sounds are his footsteps and the 
echoed strains of Iggy Pop's "Wild Child" from the distant 
gym. He stops at locker number 1963 and flips the dial: Right-
back left-right again. It opens. He pops up the steel false 
ceiling in the empty locker, fishes his hand in the opening, 
and withdraws what he is looking for: an ancient joint. He 
holds it up and examines the now brown and dried reefer. He 
grinds it into dust in his hand.

INT. HALLWAY

Debi comes out of the gym and starts down the hall, the music 
changed for the better.

INT. HALLWAY - SAME

Martin senses he is not alone. He turns to find Bob 
Destephano. The big man holds a glass unsteadily and slurs 
slightly when he speaks. Bob is looking sad and scary. He 
leans into Martin

			  BOB
	So. You and Debi. Gonna hit that 
	shit again?

			  MARTIN
	Fine, Bob. How are you?

			  BOB
	Never better.

			  MARTIN
	Really?

Bob crumbles.

			  BOB
	Ahhh... it's all fucked up. Nothing 
	adds up to nothing... you work your 
	whole life, day in and day out-- try 
	to make sense of it all. One day 
	you're twenty-seven and what do you 
	get to show for it...

			  MARTIN
	You could've been a contender, huh?

Bob realizes he can't even express his own tragedy without 
the use of cliches.

			  BOB
	Smart boy. Real smart. Let's see how 
	smart you are with my foot up your 
	ass! I'm gonna kick your ass!

Martin steps to Bob.

			  MARTIN
	Why would you want to hit me, Bob? 
	Do you really believe that there's 
	some stored up conflict that needs 
	resolution between us? We don't exist. 
	There's nothing between us. So who 
	do you want to hit, Bob? It's not 
	me.

Bob slumps against the lockers, deflated.

			  BOB
	What am I gonna do?

			  MARTIN
	What do you want to do?

			  BOB
	I want to be an actor.

			  MARTIN
	Then express yourself, Bob.

Bob frowns, trying to think of a way to express himself.

			  MARTIN
		(catching him)
	Be honest...

Bob backs up and lets out a huge, drunken caveman scream, 
then stops abruptly, and smiles.

			  BOB
	Later, Martin.

Bob backpedals down the hallway and out of sight. Martin 
watches him stumble out of the hallway and bang through the 
doors of a stairwell, disappearing.

INT. STAIRWELL - CONTINUOUS

Bob slams through the doors and begins to stumble down the 
stairs. He encounters Debi, on her way up. He glances at her 
but does not break stride. Debi gives him wide berth, and 
quickens her pace up the stairs...

INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

Martin watches the doors swing to a stop. He exhales and 
relaxes... AND THEN Spin-pivots on his right heel, as a BURST 
from a silenced pistol pierces the space where his head was 
a split-second before/ As he spins around, his right hand 
withdraws Ken's give-away pen from his kerchief pocket, pops 
the cap off, and drive the pen up and through the throat of 
his attacker--

FELIX

impaled through the throat on the pen, his head snapped back.

MARTIN AND FELIX

are frozen for a moment. Blood runs quickly down the front 
of Felix's body, off of his shoes, and on to the floor. The 
stairwell doors band open. Martin's head turns toward the 
sound. His eyes lock onto

DEBI

who is frozen, horrified for a moment. She flees.

MARTIN

looks back at

FELIX

Dead.

THE FLOOR

A growing pool of blood.

MARTIN

Looks around wildly, holding Felix up against the lockers. 
Above the lockers is a plastic banner proclaiming

	 "SPANISH CLUB FIESTA FUN-RAISER SATURDAY JUNE 1"

MARTIN

rips it down from the wall with his free hand, wraps it around 
Felix, stuffs the body into his open locker, and slams it 
shut. He pulls off his shoes and socks, puts a sock over 
each hand like mittens, and wipes up the small pool of blood. 
He stuffs the socks into his pockets, takes off down the 
hall, and bangs through the doors.

INT. GYM - GRANDSTANDS - MOMENTS LATER

Martin blasts through the upstairs doors to the grandstands 
looking for Debi below. She is nowhere to be found. He scans 
the party in progress-- It is the same frame of image as the 
one in Oatman's office. In the middle of the floor, Terry 
slowly turns up to meet Martin's eyes.

MARTIN

pulls the doors shut, and takes off down the hall.

INT. HALLWAY - MINUTES LATER

Martin opens his locker, withdraws the corpse, and hefts it 
over his shoulder.

INT. STAIRWELL - A MINUTE LATER

Brick-walled, darkly lit, and narrow. Martin bounds down the 
steep steps with his load.

INT. BASEMENT LOCKER ROOM HALLWAY - MINUTE LATER

Martin hustles toward a cage door in front of him. He kicks 
through it and dumps Felix into a canvas laundry cart on 
casters and begins rolling.

INT. PUMP AND FURNACE ROOM - A MINUTE LATER

The door bangs open and light pours into the room from behind 
Martin. He negotiates the cart over the dirt floor and stops 
next to the furnace that heats the swimming pool. He pauses 
and looks to the ceiling: the music from the reunion pulses 
into the floor above him. Martin picks up a large metal bar 
and works open the door on the hulking cast-iron furnace. A 
white-hot blaze roars within.

INT. GYM - NIGHT

The party is winding down. A harried-looking Martin walks in 
and looks around once more for Debi-- nothing.

MARTIN'S POV

of the Deejay booth. It is empty.

He moves over to the bar and joins Ken Aldridge. He motions 
to the bartender who opens a beer for him.

			  MARTIN
	Have you seen Debi Newberry?

			  KEN
	Nope.

They both look around at the last of the reunion.

			  KEN
	The more things change, the more 
	they Goddamned well stay the same.

			  MARTIN
	I guess.

Before Ken can get started again...

			  MARTIN
	Take care of yourself, Ken. Thanks 
	for the pen.

Martin walks out of the gym.

EXT. HIGH SCHOOL PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS

Paul is leaning against his Beemer, having a smoke.

			  PAUL
	What the hell happened to you?

			  MARTIN
	I was catching up with Bob Destephano.

			  PAUL
	As long as you had a good time.

Beat. Martin scans the lot for sign of Debi.

			  PAUL
	What now? Chase the girl?

There is a beat of silence. Nothing seems worth saying.

			  MARTIN
	It didn't work out.

			  PAUL
	That's too bad.

			  MARTIN
	I have to get my head back into my 
	work.

			  PAUL
	Work's good for the soul.

Martin gets up to leave.

			  MARTIN
	When you see Debi, tell her I'm sorry.

			  PAUL
	See you in ten years.

Paul watches him leave. He almost stops him, but thinks better 
of it.

INT. MARTIN'S SUITE - NIGHT

Martin hunches over his briefcase that lays open on the bed.

MARTIN PULLS

THE DOSSIER from the briefcase. It's seal is broken, but the 
contents remain enclosed... He withdraws the package and 
dumps the contents on the bed. His face registers muted shock.

			  MARTIN
	Dumb fucking luck...

THE CONTENTS

include various photos of MR. NEWBERRY, Mr. Newberry with 
Debi, and the house. The photos are mingled with official-
looking papers including credit reports, medical records, 
etc... Newberry's life.

He cocks his head toward the door anticipating a... KNOCK. 
He freezes, then plucks a gun tapped under a desk, and moves 
toward the door, pointing. Halfway to the door, his face and 
body slacken. He lobs the gun onto the bed. With everything 
gone wrong, there is nothing left to defend. He goes to the 
door and opens it, body relaxed, expecting a bullet...

Debi moves past him into the room. She is completely calm.

			  DEBI
	He was trying to kill you, right!

			  MARTIN
	Yes.

			  DEBI
	Not the other way around...?

			  MARTIN
	No.

			  DEBI
	Is it something you've done?

			  MARTIN
	It's something I do...

Beat.

			  MARTIN
	...Professionally...

Beat.

			  MARTIN
	...About five years now.

			  DEBI
		(stunned)
	Get the fuck outta here.

			  MARTIN
	Seriously, when I left, I joined the 
	Army and took the service exam. They 
	found my psych results fit a certain 
	profile. A certain "Moral flexibility" 
	would be the best way to describe 
	it... I was loaned out to a CIA-
	sponsored program. It's called 
	"mechanical operations." We sort of 
	found each other...

			  DEBI
	You're a government spook?

Martin says nothing.

			  MARTIN
	I was, but no... yes... I was before, 
	but now I'm not. It's irrelevant, 
	really. The idea of governments, 
	nations, it's mostly a public 
	relations theory at this point, 
	anyway. But I'll tell you something, 
	until about five months ago, I really 
	enjoyed my work.

			  DEBI
	Jesus Christ!

			  MARTIN
	Then I started losing my taste for 
	it. Which usually means your time is 
	up. But then I realized it was 
	something entirely different... I 
	started getting the sneaking, dark 
	suspicion that maybe there was... 
	meaning to life.

			  DEBI
	Okay. Great, Martin, that's just 
	great. Meaning to life... Mmm....

			  MARTIN
	Like, that there's a point? An organic 
	connection between all living things.

			  DEBI
	Let me help you along, Martin. You're 
	a sociopath!

			  MARTIN
		(defensive)
	A sociopath kills for no reason. I 
	kill for money.

			  DEBI
	You never could have kept this from 
	me.

			  MARTIN
	I was leaving.

			  DEBI
	That's probably a good idea.

			  MARTIN
	Will you come with me?

			  DEBI
	I'm staying here.

			  MARTIN
	What if I come back?

			  DEBI
	I'll hide.

She goes for the door.

			  MARTIN
	Don't go.

She stops at the door. Slowly, she turns.

			  DEBI
	You don't get to have me. You are a 
	monster, I'm a human being. We're 
	not going to mate.

			  MARTIN
	You don't understand...

			  DEBI
	That's because I speak human, and 
	you speak monster.

Debi bolts out of the room. Martin is left alone.

Martin looks over at his gear on the bed. After a beat, he 
walks slowly over and surveys his tools. He picks up a 
cleaning rag and begins to go over the weapons, absently 
singing to himself...

			  MARTIN
	"What's up Doc? What's cookin'? What's 
	up Doc, are you lookin'...?

INT. MARTIN'S SUITE - DAWN

Morning light comes through the slit in the curtains, picking 
up four or five exquisitely clean guns are laid out on the 
bed, almost geometrically spaced. Martin lifts one at a time, 
checking their bores and actions...

INT. COUNTRY SQUIRE - MORNING

Lardner and McCullers gear up. They each finish loading the 
last of many clips...

EXT. MICHIGAN HIGHWAY - MORNING

Grocer and Company, not in a Ford Passenger Van, veer off 
onto an exit ramp. Grocer has assembled a team of about nine. 
They draw different guns from their kit bags and begin 
loading...

INT. COUNTRY SQUIRE - SAME

Lardner and McCullers jam clips into their service autos and 
knock the slides...

INT. MARTIN'S SUITE - SAME

Martin finished loading his guns, and puts them in his case. 
He shuts it and moves for the door. On the way out he stops 
and looks himself in the mirror before exiting.

EXT. THREE DIFFERENT ROADS - INTERCUT

Each car whooshes by camera, on its way to the inevitable...

INT. EASTWEST HOLDING COMPANY - INTERCUT

Marcella has a cordless tucked between her shoulder and ear, 
and holds a two-gallon gas can. She moves from room to room 
pouring gasoline onto the computers, desks, and piles of 
paper stacked on the floor. She adds a splash to her copy of 
"Women Who Run With the Wolves."

			  MARCELLA
	I'm bringing down the office now.

She picks up her hard drive and smashes it on the floor. 
It's cathartic.

INTERCUT WITH MARTIN IN THE TOWN CAR -

			  MARTIN
	I'll put things right. Then I'll 
	find you.

Silence on the line.

			  MARCELLA
		(apprehensive)
	Uh... why?

Martin finishes his weapons check, and pulls out the dossier.

			  MARTIN
	Don't worry. I left you a little 
	something under your desk.

Martin hangs up.

Marcella goes to it and pulls loose from underneath a shrink-
wrapped brick of $100 bills, probably a $100,000 or so.

			  MARCELLA
	All right!!

INT. MARTIN'S TOWN CAR

Martin makes his way down the road to the Newberry's. In the 
distance, he sees a lone figure jogging on the shoulder, 
away from him.

INT. GROCER'S VAN - SAME

Grocer and Company are parked off to the side, watching 
Newberry, in the distance, jog toward them. A SNIPER prepares 
to blow Newberry's head off.

INT. MARTIN'S TOWN CAR - SAME

As he approaches the figure, he recognizes it as Newberry, 
he accelerates.

INT. GROCER'S VAN - SAME

Grocer spots Martin's car speeding at Newberry.

			  GROCER
	Oh shit...

EXT. ROAD - SAME

Newberry stops jogging and turns to face the Town Car bearing 
down on him. His face goes slack, expecting to be creamed.

INT. TOWN CAR - SAME

Martin roars straight at Newberry, his engine shrieking. As 
the distance between them turns from yards to feet... Martin 
swerves hard, just missing Newberry and comes to a halt next 
to him, blocking the Sniper's line of fire. After a moment, 
Newberry opens the passenger door.

			  NEWBERRY
	What the fuck is the matter with 
	you?!

			  MARTIN
	Well, I was hired to kill you. It's 
	what I do, and come to think of it, 
	I told you that, but... Okay. I'm 
	not going to do it. Get in the car.

He does. They drive on.

			  MARTIN
	It's either because I'm in love with 
	your daughter, or because I have a 
	new-found respect for life. Or both. 
	But I don't know.

INT. GROCER'S VAN - SAME

Grocer and company watch in amazement.

GROCER'S P.O.V.

of Martin's car disappearing into Newberry's long and wooded 
driveway.

			  GROCER
	That punk is either in love with 
	that guy's daughter or he has new 
	found respect for life... Let's go.

EXT. NEWBERRY HOUSE - SAME

Martin pulls up in front and stops. Both men scramble out 
and head toward the front door at a quick clip. Newberry is 
shaken; Martin seems at ease, at home in his element.

			  NEWBERRY
	Why? I build cars! They're paying 
	you to kill me? Why?

			  MARTIN
	It was a cost-cutting effort. They 
	can't afford a recall.

			  NEWBERRY
	It was a leaky sunroof! A design 
	flaw! I reported a leaky sunroof! 
	You want to kill me because of that?

			  MARTIN
	It's not me! Why does everybody think 
	it's personal?!

They go through the front door and shut it behind them.

INT. GROCER'S VAN - SAME

Grocer drops the van into gear and heads toward the driveway.

INT. COUNTRY SQUIRE - SAME

Lardner and McCullers approach the scene. They get within 
viewing distance in time to see Grocer's Town Car turn into 
the driveway.

			  LARDNER
	We'll go in through the woods.

INT. NEWBERRY HOUSE

Martin's briefcase is open on the large oak table. The 
contents of the dossier are spilled out onto the table. 
Newberry and Debi watch him, dumbstruck, as he draws a huge 
Desert Eagle automatic and jerks back the slide. He turns to 
Debi.

			  MARTIN
	I was sitting in my house on prom 
	night wearing that Goddamned rented 
	tuxedo, a corsage in one hand, a 
	bottle of champagne in the other. So 
	I was just sitting there, and then 
	the whole night flashed before my 
	eyes, and it struck me like a bullet 
	in the head-- I realized, finally, 
	and for the first time, that... I 
	wanted to kill somebody. So I figured 
	because I loved you so much, that'd 
	it'd be a good idea if I didn't see 
	you anymore. But now I'm different.

He turns and points the gun at the front door and FIRES two 
shots through it, leaving two baseball-size holes in the 
door.

Martin bolts out of the room toward the back of the house. 
Debi and Newberry run as fast as they can away from Martin. 
Newberry opens the front door, preparing to rush out with 
Debi. They stop at what they see:

NEWBERRY'S & DEBI'S P.O.V.

As ASSASSIN lies on the porch, shot dead through the door by 
Martin. IN one hand is a gun, in the other is a Fuller Brush 
kit. Two men, GROCER and an ASSASSIN, clamber out of van, 
their guns rising up fast toward us.

Debi pulls Newberry inside, slams the front door, and locks 
it. They dive away just before ten rounds hit the door from 
outside.

INT. KITCHEN - SAME

Martin rushes toward the back door which is already opening. 
A barrel comes through and FIRES at Martin. Martin pulls 
back behind the refrigerator and returns FIRE. An ASSASSIN 
comes through the door in a crouch and takes cover behind 
the cooking island. Martin, yelling back to Debi...

			  MARTIN
	I'm in love with you. I know we can 
	make this work!

MARTIN

rushes toward the island, grabbing an iron skillet off the 
range, and holds it up like a crossing-guard stop sign. He 
steps toward the hidden Assassin just as the Assassin rises 
SHOOTING. The skillet takes two rounds before Martin hammers 
the Assassin's head with it. Debi and Newberry arrive in the 
kitchen.

NEW ANGLE - LOW DUTCH

Martin bashes the skillet into the Assassin's skull, which 
is beyond our view. He rises spattered with blood and looks 
at Debi.

			  MARTIN
	I was afraid to commit to a 
	relationship, but now I know I'm 
	ready to make it happen.

Martin drops the skillet and grabs Newberry and Debi gently 
be the wrists.

			  MARTIN
	I just need time to change.

He ushers them past the bludgeoned corpse and up the back 
stairs. He spins and FIRES twice back down the stairs at 
another ASSASSIN coming up, blowing his arms off.

HALLWAY

He leads them quickly.

			  MARTIN
	It's not easy for me. I was raised 
	to close off, to control my 
	feelings...

He takes them into a bedroom, and BLOWS AWAY, an ASSASSIN 
coming in through the window, emptying his auto. Martin pushes 
Debi and Newberry into an adjoining bathroom. He backs out 
through the doorway.

			  MARTIN
	Lock the door.

They do. Martin starts away, but stops to get something 
straight.

			  MARTIN
	I wasn't raised in a loving 
	environment.
		(beat)
	But that's not an excuse. It's a 
	reason.

INT. FOYER

Martin corners the banister and springs half-way down the 
stairs, then hears the front door begin to open.

			  MARTIN
	My soul was empty--

Martin jams in another clip, and chambers a round. He sees 
Grocer beginning to slip in.

			  MARTIN
	--and it's up to me to fill it.

Martin FIRES the twelve-round clip into the door until the 
slide locks back empty again. Grocer backs out fast. Martin 
hears a gun REPORT from upstairs and moves back toward it, 
tossing the spent weapon.

INT. BEDROOM

An ASSASSIN slams his body against the bathroom door while 
Debi and Newberry scream from within. Martin flies at him. 
The Assassin wheels on Martin FIRING. Martin pivots out of 
the line of fire, still moving forward. He takes hold of 
Assassin's neck and snaps it. Martin drops the corpse.

			  MARTIN
		(through the door)
	It's okay. It's Martin The door begins 
	to open revealing Debi and Newberry.

			  MARTIN
	I know what I do isn't moral, per 
	se, but if you could just look past 
	that, you'd see a man worth loving.

			  GROCER (O.S.)
	Don't listen to him, he's a 
	professional.

Martin stops short and cocks his head toward Grocer's muffled 
voice coming from the vent. Grocer continues...

			  GROCER (O.S.)
	You're breaking my heart down here, 
	Blank. I can't shoot through the 
	tears.

Martin, incensed, bends down and takes the gun from the dead 
man. He runs out of the bedroom, gun poised for a kamikaze 
firefight...

EXT. NEWBERRY HOUSE - SAME

Lardner and McCullers are poised outside the front door, 
about to enter the mix. McCullers peers through the window.

			  LARDNER
	Did you see Blank in there?

			  MCCULLERS
	No...

			  LARDNER
	Good. For a second there I thought 
	we were in trouble.

INT. NEWBERRY FOYER - CONTINUOUS

MARTIN

reaches the top of the front stairs to find Grocer heading 
up the stairs at him. They lift their guns at each other to 
FIRE, when they hear...

LARDNER AND MCCULLERS

power through the front door, guns BLAZING at floor-level, 
ala Butch and Sundance.

Martin and Grocer, above, spin on them instinctively, and 
FIRE, killing them. Grocer dives off of the stairs and rolls 
out of view.

KITCHEN - INTERCUT

GROCER

heads up the back stairs.

MARTIN

works his way toward Grocer, moving with stealth toward the 
kitchen.

GROCER

hears him and starts back down.

Martin dives behind the cooking island just as Grocer comes 
out of the stairwell blasting. They unload at each other as 
Grocer runs a pattern across the kitchen, FIRING at Martin, 
crouched, who BLASTS back. Grocer vaults himself through the 
air toward a serving window from the kitchen to the dining 
room, still firing.

C.U. - MARTIN'S GUN - SLOW MOTION

The last casing floats out of the chamber into the air, and 
the slide on the auto locks back-- empty.

NORMAL SPEED

GROCER

Flying through the air disappearing through the shuttered 
serving window, his flight carrying him past a television 
that sits on a lazy susan.

MARTIN AND GROCER - INTERCUT

Martin and Grocer sit on the floor, backs up against opposite 
side of the counter-- Martin in the kitchen and Grocer in 
the dining room. The hulking old television sits on the 
counter above and between them.

Martin looks up and spies the TELEVISION

			  GROCER
	...How about I sell you two rounds 
	for a hundred grand a piece?

			  MARTIN
	Okay.

Martin takes out a checkbook, and tears one free. He wads it 
into a loose ball and tosses it over the counter.

BALLED CHECK

sails over the television and comes down, bouncing off 
Grocer's head and into his lap.

			  MARTIN
	There you go. I left it blank.

			  GROCER
	Excellent. Here they come.

Grocer pulls two rounds from the clip of his semi-automatic 
and pushes the clip back into the gun. Grocer arcs the TWO 
BULLETS into the air.

MARTIN

rises and springs at the television, gripping it. The TWO 
BULLETS sail past his head.

GROCER

begins to rise from his side of the counter, cocking his 
gun.

MARTIN

puts all his weight and motion behind the television. Martin 
and the television careen off of the counter toward Grocer.

GROCER

gets off one round before

MARTIN

flies onto Grocer, smashing the seventy-five pound television 
over his Goddamn head. Martin sails past the collision, 
landing on his back in the dining room. He rolls over to see

GROCER

Body crumpled, neck is snapped, head encased in the shattered 
picture tube. He is dead.

MARTIN

runs up the front stairs, retrieving the spent gun he 
discarded earlier, and heads into the bedroom.

INT. BEDROOM - MINUTES LATER

Martin opens the bathroom door. Inside, Debi sits on the 
edge of the tub, her face in her hands. Newberry kneels with 
his arms around her. Martin takes this in, and walks back 
into the bedroom. Newberry stands and follows him out.

MARTIN AND NEWBERRY

MARTIN a bloody, tattered mess, wipes off the gun and puts 
it into Newberry's hand. Newberry, in total shock, grips it. 
Martin looks past Newberry.

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

Of Debi, head in hands.

			  MARTIN (V.O.)
	Debi... will you marry me?

Debi doesn't look up. After a moment, she reaches out, head 
still down, and closes the bathroom door...

INT. RADIO STATION - DAY

Outside is a Michigan autumn. Debi sits at her console, 
bringing in the mike as she fades out of a tune...

			  DEBI
	This is WRFN Radio Free Newberry 
	cause that's what it does. Bringing 
	you New Ones for the Nineties, a 
	fresh new format designed to pull 
	you out of what's come before, and 
	reel you into what's coming soon--

THE PHONE CONSOLE

lights up with an incoming cal...

			  DEBI
	I tell you what's coming soon for 
	me, or at least what I dreamed this 
	morning in that weird time just before 
	you actually wake up. But first this 
	commercial. Back after this...

She pushes a couple of buttons, slaps a cartridge in a player, 
and answers the phone. We hear the commercial over the studio 
monitor:

			  ANNOUNCER
	Don't miss the show of the season at 
	Bilkin Community Center! "Brigadoon!" 
	A musical for all ages! "Brigadoon," 
	starring Carol Plummer, Thomas 
	Canchola, Bob Destephano, and Lee 
	Ordman!...

Debi picks up the phone.

			  DEBI
	RFN...

Her face goes slack as she listens... not good, not bad... 
Then she hangs up slowly. The commercial ends. A moment of 
dead air, then she snaps to.

			  DEBI
	Hey out there... Okay... I'm going 
	to finish up that fantasy later. 
	First I'll give you an hour of nonstop 
	music... If I don't come back on 
	after that-- well, nevermind.

Debi turns on a reel-to-reel, and leaves.

EXT. FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT HOUSE - DAY

Debi pulls up and gets out. She begins toward the door but 
stops dead when she sees

MARTIN

sitting on the front steps.

Debi moves slowly up the walk and sits next to him on the 
porch. They sit, gazing out over the grass and trees beyond. 
After a while...

			  DEBI
	This will never work out.

She turns to him, serious.

			  DEBI
	You kill people.
		(beat)

			  MARTIN
	I have no illusions about the future. 
	What is, is. We make choices. And we 
	become the sum total of our choices. 
	I can live with that.

			  DEBI
	Other people can't.

Martin looks at her earnestly... And smiles ever so slightly. 
She does the same, and then just a little wider. He the same. 
They turn back out to face the lawn, and they share a laugh...

							   THE END