Bad Intentions Stage 3

and here’s part of three.

BI Stage 3 by George/Foster

Page one
Splash. We open on Quinn running out from under the bridge, still carrying his mag lite and bayonet. Around one of Quinn’s ankles is a ghoul hand, clamped tightly and broken off at the wrist. The pack of ghouls is pouring out from under the bridge and chasing Quinn, including “lefty.”

Page two
Quinn jumps into his car and drives back the way he came like a bat out of hell. We see a shot of the frustrated ghoul pack, before they turn and wander back beneath the bridge to resume their meal.

Page three
Quinn pulls into a lot of an all-night convenience store. He reaches down and pries the hand loose from his ankle, which is now bleeding. Tossing the hand into the back seat of the car, Quinn walks inside the store. He picks up some bandages, ointment, and other medical supplies.

Page four
He walks up to the register and pauses before the magazine rack. He sees a copy of The Eyewitness with the photo of the dead ghoul cook on the front page. He quickly adds the magazine to his purchases and heads to the register.

The clerk rings up his purchases and in a bored monotone recites “That’ll be “$11.58.”

Quinn grudgingly hands over a twenty dollar bill.

Q- “You got a bathroom I can use?”

The clerk replies apathetically “It‘s out of order.”

Caption: Where’s the convenience in so called convenience stores? It’s highway robbery to buy anything, and if you need something it’s out of order or not for public use.

Page five
Quinn gets back in his car and sits down. The clerk resumes reading a porno mag.

Quinn: “Motherfucker.”

Quinn picks up the tabloid and begins reading the cover page. He picks up his cell phone and starts dialing as he reads.

Q: “If you’ve seen something strange or weird or have information relating to today’s article, call Brandon at. . .”

The phone rings a few times and no one answers. Quinn decides to leave a voicemail.

Q: “Listen, I hate these things, but I need you to give me a return call. I’d like to discuss the cook in today’s cover feature. . .”

Page six
We cut to a rest area where Quinn has parked so that he can properly clean and dress his wounds. He’s in the men’s room and has got his leg propped up on a sink and is finishing wrapping the bandages around it when his phone rings.

Quinn whips his phone out and heads out to his car, walking at a brisk pace.

Q: “Talk to me.”

Cut to a shot of Brandon in his cramped “office.” He’s slumped over a computer typing away with a cigarette in his mouth and his phone held between his ear and his shoulder, with piles of folders and old back issues of The Eyewitness piled up around him. There are several ashtrays filled with cigarette butts and packs of bottled water stacked on the floor. Brandon is sweating profusely despite the late hour and has a small circular fan going in an attempt to cool himself. Several old copies of The Eyewitness hang on the wall behind him with headlines reading: “Bigfoot Gave Me Herpes!” and “Grimm battles Gator Men in Swamp!” and “Coffee Grounds: Are They the Secret to Eternal Youth?”

B: “Hey, thanks for calling. You wanted to talk about today’s story?”

Quinn sits back in his car, his eyes pouring over the empty rest area, scanning for any signs of movement.

Q: “Yeah, I’d like to talk. I’ve got something for you. But not over the phone. Can we meet somewhere?”

Page seven

Brandon, still typing, attempting to keep the phone from slipping out from between his ear and shoulder.

B: “Well, I’m kind of in the middle of a story. . .”

Quinn’s eyes fix on the ghoul hand laying on the seat next to him.

Caption: Could’ve sworn I threw you in the back. . .

Q: “Well, what if I brought you something solid? A little souvenir of what attacked me about an hour ago?”

Brandon taking a drag off his cigarette with one hand while still typing with the other.

B: “What kind of souvenir we talking about here? I just did a story on

Quinn picks up the hand and holds it out in front of himself.

Q: “Well, it’s got four fingers, a thumb, and it was stuck in my leg and not in the “Hey, baby, I wanna fuck you” kinda way.”

Brandon’s stopped typing his eyes are wide, his jaw is hanging, and the cigarette is dangling from his lip.

B: “How soon can we meet?”

 
The Morgue late at night.

Walking down the darkened corridors, we see the morgue attendant (he should resemble a young Jeffrey Combs), accompanied by a pair of men (the two ghouls in the aquarium vision from chapter one, although more human looking). We’ll call them Yassir and Nossir.

Yassir: You had no problems obtaining the body?

Morgue attendant: It was a simple matter, really, when you’ve been at this as long as we have. Local cops are generally either lazy or corrupt. They’re also frequently happy to get rid of oddball cases, especially if they have to do less paperwork. Add in a possible jurisdictional dispute to the closeness of the state border and they practically fell all over themselves to pass the case off to a couple of “federal specialists.”

Nossir: Well done. You’ll receive your fee in the usual manner.

MA: Of course.

The men pass through a pair of doors into the cabinet room where the attendant pulls out a particular drawer containing the remains of the fat diner cook from chapter one.

MA: I trust you can identify the remains?

Yassir and Nossir walk up to the cabinet, growing more ghoulish as they do so.

Yassir: Positively. That is he.

The attendant steps back, with a suggestive smile on his face. He knows this ritual well.

MA: Well then, I’ll let you get to it.

The attendant back out of the door pulling it shut behind him. Just before closing, he pokes his head back in and says “Bon appetit.”

Yassir wanders over to a far draw and pulls it out, revealing not another body, but a well stocked supply of seasonings and spices.

Nossir (off panel): Do we have any An Jus?

Yassir: I’ll start warming some up. What seasonings would you prefer?

 

 

1 Comment

  1. grimm (Post author)

    full script for BI3

    BI 3

    Page one
    Splash. We open on Quinn running out from under the bridge, still carrying his mag lite and bayonet. Around one of Quinn’s ankles is a ghoul hand, clamped tightly and broken off at the wrist. The pack of ghouls is pouring out from under the bridge and chasing Quinn, including “lefty.”

    Page two
    Quinn jumps into his car and drives back the way he came like a bat out of hell. We see a shot of the frustrated ghoul pack, before they turn and wander back beneath the bridge to resume their meal.

    Page three
    Quinn pulls into a lot of an all-night convenience store. He reaches down and pries the hand loose from his ankle, which is now bleeding. Tossing the hand into the back seat of the car, Quinn walks inside the store. He picks up some bandages, ointment, and other medical supplies.

    Page four
    He walks up to the register and pauses before the magazine rack. He sees a copy of The Eyewitness with the photo of the dead ghoul cook on the front page. He quickly adds the magazine to his purchases and heads to the register.

    The clerk rings up his purchases and in a bored monotone recites “That’ll be “$11.58.”

    Quinn grudgingly hands over a twenty dollar bill.

    Q- “You got a bathroom I can use?”

    The clerk replies apathetically “It‘s out of order.”

    Caption: Where’s the convenience in so called convenience stores? It’s highway robbery to buy anything, and if you need something it’s out of order or not for public use.

    Page five
    Quinn gets back in his car and sits down. The clerk resumes reading a porno mag.

    Quinn: “Motherfucker.”

    Quinn picks up the tabloid and begins reading the cover page. He picks up his cell phone and starts dialing as he reads.

    Q: “If you’ve seen something strange or weird or have information relating to today’s article, call Brandon at. . .”

    The phone rings a few times and no one answers. Quinn decides to leave a voicemail.

    Q: “Listen, I hate these things, but I need you to give me a return call. I’d like to discuss the cook in today’s cover feature. . .”

    Page six
    We cut to a rest area where Quinn has parked so that he can properly clean and dress his wounds. He’s in the men’s room and has got his leg propped up on a sink and is finishing wrapping the bandages around it when his phone rings.

    Quinn whips his phone out and heads out to his car, walking at a brisk pace.

    Q: “Talk to me.”

    Cut to a shot of Brandon in his cramped “office.” He’s slumped over a computer typing away with a cigarette in his mouth and his phone held between his ear and his shoulder, with piles of folders and old back issues of The Eyewitness piled up around him. There are several ashtrays filled with cigarette butts and packs of bottled water stacked on the floor. Brandon is sweating profusely despite the late hour and has a small circular fan going in an attempt to cool himself. Several old copies of The Eyewitness hang on the wall behind him with headlines reading: “Bigfoot Gave Me Herpes!” and “Grimm battles Gator Men in Swamp!” and “Coffee Grounds: Are They the Secret to Eternal Youth?”

    B: “Hey, thanks for calling. You wanted to talk about today’s story?”

    Quinn sits back in his car, his eyes pouring over the empty rest area, scanning for any signs of movement.

    Q: “Yeah, I’d like to talk. I’ve got something for you. But not over the phone. Can we meet somewhere?”

    Page seven

    Brandon, still typing, attempting to keep the phone from slipping out from between his ear and shoulder.

    B: “Well, I’m kind of in the middle of a story. . .”

    Quinn’s eyes fix on the ghoul hand laying on the seat next to him.

    Caption: Could’ve sworn I threw you in the back. . .

    Q: “Well, what if I brought you something solid? A little souvenir of what attacked me about an hour ago?”

    Brandon taking a drag off his cigarette with one hand while still typing with the other.

    B: “What kind of souvenir we talking about here? I just did a story on

    Quinn picks up the hand and holds it out in front of himself.

    Q: “Well, it’s got four fingers, a thumb, and it was stuck in my leg and not in the “Hey, baby, I wanna fuck you” kinda way.”

    Brandon’s stopped typing his eyes are wide, his jaw is hanging, and the cigarette is dangling from his lip.

    B: “How soon can we meet?”

    Page eight
    Inside of a Morgue somewhere near New Orleans late at night.

    Walking down the darkened corridors, we see the morgue attendant (he should resemble a young Jeffrey Combs), accompanied by a pair of men (the two ghouls in the aquarium vision from chapter one, although more human looking). We’ll call them Yassir and Nossir.

    Yassir: You had no problems obtaining the body?

    Morgue attendant: It was a simple matter, really, when you’ve been at this as long as we have. Local cops are generally either lazy or corrupt. They’re also frequently happy to get rid of oddball cases, especially if they have to do less paperwork. Add in a possible jurisdictional dispute to the closeness of the state border and they practically fell all over themselves to pass the case off to a couple of “federal specialists.”

    Nossir: Well done. You’ll receive your fee in the usual manner.

    MA: Of course.

    Page nine.
    The men pass through a pair of doors into the cabinet room where the attendant pulls out a particular drawer containing the remains of the fat diner cook from chapter one.

    MA: I trust you can identify the remains?

    Yassir and Nossir walk up to the cabinet, growing more ghoulish as they do so.

    Yassir: Positively. That is he.

    The attendant steps back, with a suggestive smile on his face. He knows this ritual well.

    MA: Well then, I’ll let you get to it.

    The attendant back out of the door pulling it shut behind him. Just before closing, he pokes his head back in and says “Bon appetit.”

    Page ten.
    Yassir wanders over to a far draw and pulls it out, revealing not another body, but a well stocked supply of seasonings and spices.

    Nossir (off panel): Do we have any An Jus?

    Yassir: I’ll start warming some up. What seasonings would you prefer?

    Nossir sets up a folding table and a pair of folding chairs, then lays out a tablecloth.

    Nossir: A little paprika, maybe. A touch of Cayenne. Not too much.

    Page eleven.
    Full page splash of the ghouls dining by candlelight in the Morgue.

    Page twelve.
    A storage facility near a convenience store just outside of Hattiesburg. The last storage shed far down at the end from us is open. Quinn’s car is parked nearby. We see a light shining out from the inside. We also hear Quinn muttering and cursing from inside as random objects fly out into the road.

    Quinn: Where is it? She better have packed it in here!

    Now inside, we see Quinn pick up a small trophy (there is a child holding a gun on the top of it) that says “NRA Youth” at the bottom. He carelessly slings the trophy at the wall where it shatters.

    As Quinn continues digging through a large box (he may be halfway inside the thing), we hear a voice from outside.

    Voice: You always were a whiny bitch.

    Quinn pulls himself out of the box with a look of hate in his eyes.

    Page thirteen

    The look softens as recognition dawns on Quinn’s face. He cracks a hint of a smile.

    Quinn: You motherfucker. How you doin, Scott?

    We see Scott framed in the doorway. Shit eating grin on his face. Arms folded. He’s wearing a black leather jacket, torn jeans, and combat boots.

    Scott: Pretty good. Vicki said you might be here. Thought I’d head out see if the rumor was true.

    Quinn’s face tightens up again.

    Page fourteen
    Scott looks over to one of the walls and sees an old, wooden baseball bat laying up against a pile of stuff.

    Scott: Hey, I remember this. Playing ball in old man Watson’s field. Remember when Noffke broke his window?

    Scott picks up the bat and begins to play with it.

    Scott: We jumped on our boards and took off outta there quick! He was pissed.

    He looks over at Quinn again.

    Scott: So, uh, what are you looking for?

    Quinn is digging in the box again, half submerged.

    Quinn: I’m looking for my dad’s guns. If I don’t find ’em in the next few minutes I’m gonna go back and ask her while kicking the shit out of her dick licking boyfriend. . .

    Quinn continues to dig while cursing and muttering. Scott plays with the bat another moment and casually says: “I’ve got your guns. They’re back at the house.”

    Page fifteen.

    Quinn pops up out of the box and is frustrated beyond words. He is attempting to ask the question.

    Quinn: . . .Why. . .how. . .why. . .why are my guns at your house and why didn’t you tell me sooner?

    Scott, still playing with the bat.

    Scott: Well, when Vicki started putting your stuff in storage, I decided to help out. Make sure things weren’t misplaced or end up in the wrong hands. . .nobody likes Randy, by the way, I hear you’ve met. . .

    Scott turns back to Quinn.

    Scott: Plus, it’s just too much fun to watch you get pissed off and stew in your own juices for a bit.

    Scott flips the bat around. He sees the word “Patience” carved in it.

    Scott: Hey, this is mine!

    Quinn stands up and stretches.

    Quinn: Well take it then. I thought you said you helped pack this stuff.

    Scott: I did. I must’ve left it here.

    Pg 16

    Quinn starts throwing items back into the box and cleaning up.

    Quinn: “Help me close this up. Mind if I crash at your place?”

    Scott starts picking up some boxes in an effort to help organize things.

    Scott: “Knock yourself out. I’m sure you’ll want to see your guns.”

    Quinn goes to turn out the light in the shed.

    Quinn: “I need the guns.”

    Scott: “Why?”

    Quinn turns out the light.

    Quinn: “I’ll tell you as we go. . .”

    Pg 17

    Caption: We went over to Scott’s. We spent the next couple of hours itemizing and checking out the guns while I explained what I’d been through. Scott seemed to take everything in good humor although I could tell he was curious about some parts of my story. But he didn’t slag me off or tell me I was crazy.

    Shot of Quinn and Scott at Scott’s place, going through the guns.

    Quinn and Scott driving to the coast.

    Caption: That meant a lot.

    They reach Brandon’s office. Quinn is carrying a small, cardboard box in his arms. A battered old building that rents out spaces to various business, including The Eyewitnesses. Most of the spaces are available. As they approach Brandon’s door, they hear yelling from inside.

    Pg 18

    They go to knock and the door slides open as we see Brandon standing behind his desk, yelling into his phone.

    Brandon: “Oh yeah? Well, why don’t YOU stick YOUR butt up YOUR asshole and flip yourself inside out?!”

    Brandon slams down the phone and sits down, fuming. Gradually he looks up and sees he has visitors as Quinn and Scott stare back at him, a little unsure as to what to do next.

    A smile begins to grow across Brandon’s face as he sees the two. He motions for them to sit down. “Oh, that was a lead that went bad. You just can’t trust some people. Welcome to the Gulf Coast office of The Eyewitness. What can I do for you guys?”

    Pg 19

    Scott casually plops down into a chair while Quinn remains standing. Brandon motions for him to sit again and he reluctantly does so.

    Quinn: “I’m the one that called you yesterday.”

    Brandon’s eyes light up.

    Brandon: “Oh right! The guy with the “souvenir.”

    Brandon makes the quote marks as he says souvenir.

    Brandon: “What have you got for me?”

    Pg 20

    Quinn looks over at Scott as Scott nods in assent. Quinn holds up the box and removes the lid. He takes out a plastic bag containing the hand of the ghoul.

    Brandon’s mouth drops.

    “Is-is that what I think it is?”

    Quinn tosses the bag and hand onto Brandon’s desk.

    Quinn: “last night I stumbled across a nest of these things under a local bridge. They were snacking on what I’m sure is a recently vanished kid from the area. That bridge is a popular hangout for kids in the area.”

    Brandon examines the hand, taking it out of the bag and peering at it.

    “I’ve heard something about that, but no one would talk to me. I’ve been wanting to get up there and check the place out, but I’m so busy here. . .”

    Pg 21

    Brandon gets a mischievous look on his face.

    “Say, would you sell me your story? I can pay you. The Eyewitness has an expense account for this kind of thing.”

    Quinn looks nervous.

    Quinn: “I don’t want my name out there. I don’t need this kind of publicity.”

    Brandon: “Oh, I won’t use your real names. We’ll make something up. Just tell me what happens and I’ll put it down and print it. Correspondance from the front lines of the ghoul war!”

    Quinn rolls his eyes and looks over at Scott. Scott looks excited.

    Quinn shoots him a dirty look.

    Scott: “What?”

    Quinn: “The ghoul war? This is ridiculous.”

    Pg 22

    Scott gets up and tries to walk around the small office.

    Scott: “Maybe it is, but is it any less ridiculous than what you’ve told me? Think about it, man. People have to know these things are out there!”

    Quinn stands up to argue.

    Quinn: “If people know these things are out there you’re gonna have full scale idiocy going on! You’re gonna have untrained idiots with guns out there shooting each other trying to be big time and be a hero! You’re gonna have-”

    Pg 23

    Brandon gets up to calm things down.

    Brandon: “Whoah, whoah, whoah. Look, one of the great things about working for The Eyewitness is that most people immediately disregard what we put in our paper. I’ve been writing about ghouls for years and you’re the first people that have actually gotten back to me. I think we’ll be okay.”

    Quinn regains his composure as he looks out into the empty hallway.

    Scott: “So what now?”

    Quinn: “Now?”

    Pg 24

    Splash.

    Quinn standing up and facing out of the doorway of Brandon’s office as Scott and Brandon look at him.

    Quinn: “Now we go back to the bridge and clean out that nest.”

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