Assassins

Assassins

Screenplay by       Brian Helgeland

          Larry Wachowski

          Andy Wachowski

Produced by       Jim Van Wyck

          Andrew Lazar

          Raynold Gideon

          Bruce Evans

          Joel Silver

Directed by       Richard Donner

Cast List:

Sylvester Stallone    Robert Rath

Antonio Banderas    Miguel Bain

Julianne Moore      Electra

Anatoli Davydov    Nicolai

Muse Watson      Ketcham

Stephen Kahan      Alan Branch

Kelly Rowan      Jennifer

Reed Diamond      Bob

FADE IN:

EXT. PLAZA COLON / INT. BANK – DAY (1980)

BLACK AND WHITE. The past was so clear-cut. Or was it?

Tiled roofs, the stark white stucco of a colonial town square. Black iron bars at a bank. A briefcase carried in a man's hand. A sniper's rifle being assembled. Thick blocks of hundred dollar bills. Placed in the briefcase. A man's teeth as he smiles grimly at the sight.

Sounds over a SUBJECTIVE VIEW. The BRIEFCASE SNAPS SHUT. A VAULT DOOR SLAMS. RUBBER SOLES WALK a tiled floor. Ahead, brilliant, white light suffuses the exit. Like the way people describe near-death experiences. We're either going outdoors or over to the other side.

A long rifle silencer juts from a window. We see the shooter FROM BEHIND, a view OVER his shoulder.

In the bank, the man crushes out a cigarette. A pause and a DEEP EXHALE as we step outside into a flood of light. In answer, the LOW PUFF of a SILENCER.

Only the plaza pigeons notice. As they take flight...

A man lies dead on the cobblestones. And as we look UP TOWARD the window, there's nothing there. The pigeons wheel above the plaza. We FOLLOW, finally losing them to the sky. SLOWLY that sky BLEEDS from gray to blue.

And as we PAN BACK DOWN...

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. MARSH – SUNSET

We're no longer in a plaza, but in a vast marshland. Not in the past, but in the present. The sun sparkles over the water. Two silhouetted figures move past in the distance. One walks a little behind the other.

The man in front is KETCHAM. He wears an expensive suit and Gucci loafers. He swats at flies nearly too small to see, curses under his breath at the calf-deep mud.

The man behind is RATH. He moves easier; the flies don't seem to bother him at all. His jeans are tucked into rubber boots. He holds a silenced .22 at his side. Like it was part of him.

They continue until one of Ketcham's shoes is sucked off by the mud.

KETCHAM

Aw-shit...

Ketcham balances on one leg, holding his silk-socked foot in the air. The shoe disappears, filled with mud.

KETCHAM

When I first saw you I wasn't scared. I was just wondering why you were dressed like that. Now I know.

Ketcham pulls off his sock, sticks his foot in the mud. He smiles. It feels good. He pulls off the other shoe, tosses it. Grabbing for the other sock, he loses his balance and sits down in the mud.

Rath waits patiently as Ketcham laughs at the absurdity of it all. Ketcham finally pulls the sock off, then stands, digs his toes into the dark, wet earth.

KETCHAM

This feels good.

They move on, Rath still a little behind. Ketcham enjoys the new sensation, but after a bit, the pleasure fades.

KETCHAM

It's twisted, but I'm honored. You're the best. It means at least they're still afraid of me.

Ketcham looks ahead as they close on a grove of trees. He knew they were going somewhere, but it's a chilling realization all the same.

KETCHAM

I knew this day would come. But this morning, I could've sworn I was going to live forever.

They're only a few steps away from the first of the trees. Desperation begins to creep into Ketcham's voice.

KETCHAM

Any chance of you telling me who the Contractor was? Huh?

(off no answer)

At least tell me how much I was worth. A dime? Two?

They're into the trees. Ketcham doesn't need to be told. He stops just where a dead branch hangs from a tree.

KETCHAM

Here?

Rath uses the .22 to gesture Ketcham to the left. Ketcham gives the branch a wistful smile. Leaving his last hope behind, he takes a few steps over.

KETCHAM

We both play the game, Rath. Sooner or later the wheel turns. For everybody. Who's got your bullet? What kind of shoes'll you be wearing when the day comes?

Rath's answer is to move directly behind him. Ketcham is finally showing his fear.

KETCHAM

Whatever the contract is, I'll double it. Just say you couldn't find me. Buy yourself some good karma.

Ketcham can't see, but he almost senses it as Rath raises the silenced .22 to the back of his head.

KETCHAM

Oh, God. Don't pull yet, not yet. Christ, I've done some bad things in my time.

(trembling)

I can't die like this. Not like a mark. I'm not a mark!

Finally, Ketcham begins to just cry. Nothing left to say. A man in mourning for himself. But Rath is not unaffected, not without his own peculiar version of mercy.

Keeping the .22 steady, an inch behind Ketcham's head, Rath reaches into his jacket. He pulls out a second, nearly identical silenced .22. Ketcham looks down, curious as the clip drops into the mud at his feet.

Rath, ready to fire at any sign of trouble, gently eases the gun into Ketcham's hand. Ketcham looks down, smiles. It's his gun, his dignity.

KETCHAM

Hello, old friend.

(hefts it; knows)

One in the chamber.

Slowly, so Rath can see, Ketcham raises the .22, sets the tip of the silencer against the side of his head. He squints at the sun, the last thing he'll ever see.

KETCHAM

Last few years I've been looking for a sunrise. Maybe a sunset's better.

(a beat)

Thanks, Rath.

The sun disappears over the horizon. Ketcham squeezes the trigger. The SILENCER WHISPERS and he crumples, begins to sink into the mud.

Rath lowers his gun. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, standing alone in the middle of nowhere. We TILT DOWN TO an EXTREME CLOSEUP of blood in the water.

INT. HOTEL ROOM – DAY (LATE AFTERNOON)

Rath closes the curtains. There is a makeshift office on the desk. A cell phone is connected to a lap-top computer. The prompt flashes expectantly.

On the coffee table, we see the dismantled .22, spread clean on a white towel.

Rath stands at a window looking out at the city. He leans forward until his forehead rests against the window. He closes his eyes, enjoying the cool of the glass.

A beat. Then he looks to the street below. For just an instant, he's wondering what it would be like to fall. Breaking from his reverie, Rath steps to the desk.

He sits, regards the computer with loathing, then types in a long access code sequence. He waits.

After a few moments, a line of dialogue appears. Rath is communicating with someone... The Contractor.

Contractor: "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, ROBERT?"

Rath: "SICK. THE FLU."

INT. CONTRACTOR'S OFFICE – LATE AFTERNOON

EXTREME CLOSEUP OF eyes, hands, mouth, computer, etc.

Contractor: "I DON'T BELIEVE YOU."

BACK TO RATH

RATH

I don't care what you believe. I want out. I've had it. Contractor: I've been sitting on a prime contract.

But these days, something else is on Rath's mind.

RATH

Who are you, you sonuvabitch?

Rath: "Send the file. I'll have the estimate tonight."

Contractor: "I'm worried about you, Robert."

RATH
You should be.

Rath: "Don't be."

Contractor: "Good. You are my #1."

The screen goes blank. A beat and the word "TRANSMITTING" appears. Rath stands.

A slimline PRINTER HUMS, starts to reproduce a newspaper photo of ALAN BRANCH. Strong. Hard eyes which Rath studies a moment, then circles. As a second sheet feeds, Rath isn't that interested.

EXT. CITY STREETS – SUNSET

Mist fills the air. As night comes on, Rath walks. He has no real purpose at the moment. And the crowds don't magically seem to get out of his way. He watches them laughing, talking, hurrying this way and that. Rath's a loner. An outsider. Life moves around him, but he's not part of it. At least not this version. The mist turns to darkness.

INT. MALL – UPSCALE WOMEN'S CLOTHING STORE – NIGHT

Rath pauses, his eye caught by a scene inside.

A dowager berates a female CLERK. The Clerk takes it stoically, nodding, placating. Huffing and puffing, the dowager heads back to the racks. The Clerk watches her in exasperation. No one deserves this kind of abuse. Rath is going to continue when, on an impulse, he decides to enter the store instead.

INT. UPSCALE WOMEN'S CLOTHING STORE – NIGHT

Rath steps inside, begins to look around. The Clerk sighs to herself. Another customer and it's almost closing time.

The dowager jams the dress back on the rack and it falls to the floor. She ignores it, but Rath doesn't.

RATH
I think you dropped something. The dowager gives him a look. Maybe you better hang it back up.

And it isn't a question. The woman looks shocked, then gruffly hanging the dress back up, hurries out of the store.

Tired, a bit apprehensive, the Clerk gives Rath a moment before joining him.

CLERK
Can I help you, sir? We're just closing.

Rath suddenly wonders what the hell he's doing here.

RATH

I'm looking for something. I... I'm not sure what.

CLERK

(knows the routine)

Birthday? Anniversary?

Rath shakes his head. There's something sad about him, but she misreads it.

CLERK

A fight.

Rath starts to say something, but then stops. She takes it as a yes to her question.

CLERK

You said something you regret?

A beat. It takes Rath a moment to confess:

RATH

Regret... Yes.

She thinks, decides on a way to get rid of him.

CLERK

Are you really sorry?

Rath nods. He is. Finding what she's looking for, she holds up an elegant red velvet dress.

CLERK

Bring this home and she'll say she's sorry. But it's expensive.

That price tag should get him out of here. A beat. There's something oddly appealing about the moment. It's hard to say, but Rath is charmed. Then, almost shyly...

RATH

She's about your size. Would you?...

The Clerk is caught off guard by this request. She is all alone and it is getting late. Still, it'd be nice to end the day with a sale.

CLERK

Give me two minutes.

INT. MALL – UPSCALE WOMEN'S CLOTHING STORE – NIGHT

Rath stares out the window. There's something mournful almost haunting about him. An old soul to be sure.

INT. UPSCALE WOMEN'S CLOTHING STORE – NIGHT

Rath scans the empty store, then checks his watch. He's lost his mind. As he heads for the door, the Clerk steps out. The transformation is stunning. Rath stops short, takes in the beauty of it all.

CLERK

What do you think?

RATH

(soft, gentle)

It's perfect.

She can't believe it.

CLERK

I'll write it up?

She steps to a desk, scribbles out a receipt. Rath notices an open textbook, several lines have been highlighted.

RATH

College?

CLERK

Do you think I'm too old?... My daughter says I'm too old to go to school... I just sit in right now. I don't have the money yet. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life selling somebody else's dresses. I mean, you're never too old to have dreams, right? To start over?

Rath looks away, can't hold her gaze.

RATH

I don't know.

An awkward beat. Then...

CLERK

Should I wrap it? Rath nods.

BACK ROOM

CLOSE as she finishes tying the box.

STORE

She steps out. Her smile fades as she sees he's gone. The sale is lost.