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The Immortals (old)
by Scott Leddy (Scott.Leddy@villanova.edu)

Rated: R   Genre: Action/Adventure   User Review:

A group of soldiers sent on a off-the-grid mission end up mysteriously dissappearing. They are found, mutated, by a Pakistani doctor and his daughter. The doctor is astounded to find that their vital organs are not worknig, and that the men can survive bullet wounds and other afflictions without pain. When the doctor's daughter is kidnapped by an opium warlord. The soldiers must fight to rescue her from slavery and find answers to their own existence.

This screenplay is copyrighted to its author. All rights reserved. This screenplay may not be used or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.


A thick gray mist hangs over the moist runway. A large CARGO
PLANE sits on the tarmac with its cargo bay open.
Uniformed SOLDIERS emerge. They carry a CASKET DRAPED IN THE
AMERICAN FLAG. They pace slowly down the ramp. Their breath
plumes out in long, slow waves of steam.
They are followed by another group, almost identical.
Another group waits behind them. Another group stands ready
behind them, followed by countless more.
This plane is not alone.
A dozen more join it on the terminal. The same scene repeats
itself. Caskets following caskets. Red, white and blue
snakes, blowing long clouds of misty white smoke.
The soldiers march in unison, making a loud CLAP on the wet
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Louder and LOUDER as more soldiers join the lines.
SUPER: Eckersley Military Base/ Quetta, Pakistan
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. A clock ticks on the wall, the only
sound breaking the dead silence.
SGT. GAVIN FRIDAY (49),whose face tells the story of
countless bloody conflicts, stares intently at a CHESSBOARD.
The sides are mirror images.
He slowly and deliberately picks up a pawn and moves it one
space. He hesitates for a second, keeping his finger on the
piece before releasing it.
CPL. JON PEARSON (28), a young, well-groomed black man
opposite him, quickly moves the exact same piece on his side
to the exact same spot on his side.
Friday lets out a small grunt/growl.


The corner of Pearson's mouth curls upwards in anticipation.
Any minute now.
Friday picks up a knight and moves it deliberately like
before, calculating.
He releases the piece and Pearson immediately moves his
corresponding knight to the exact same place.
Just what in the hell do you think
you're doing?
There we go.
A beat.
What am I doing sir?
You know exactly what you're
doing. Stop copying my moves.
That's not how you play chess.
That's how I play chess, sir.
No that's not how anybody plays
Friday, aggravated, moves his piece less cautiously.
                       FRIDAY (CONT'D)
No fuckin' strategy. You're always
a step behind.
A young soldier, a MESSENGER (18), redheaded and looking
like his nuts dropped 10 minutes ago, enters timidly. He
doesn't wanna go near Friday, especially when he's in the
middle of a game. Smart kid, but orders are orders.
Oh but it is strategy, sir. It is.
You may think I'm one step
Excuse me, sir?


Friday turns quickly. Pearson slides a piece over one space
with his pinky.
Uh-Major Braskow said he'd like to
see you in his quarters, sir.
Pearson quickly makes the move, taking one of Friday's
pieces on the table.

Friday sees this out of the corner of his eye. He turns
                       PEARSON (CONT'D)
But I'm really always one step
Friday turns back to the board and sees this. He's pissed.
Fucking distractions. He turns back to the kid.
      (Oh shit)
Yea.Uh.Yes-sir. He said right
Friday looks back like "Why me?" He looks at the board.
Something's not right. Up to Pearson's shit-eating smirk. He
narrows his eyes.
A beat.
Friday SMASHES the chessboard over with one lazy swing of
his hand, almost as an afterthought, and heads towards the
Is that a forfeit, sir?
Young and fit men play basketball on a small makeshift
court, lit by floodlights on all sides.
Friday walks by. He stops for a moment to observe the game.


PVT. CHAD KILLIAN (25), muscular and wild looking, drives
skillfully into the lane. PVT. CARTER CAMPBELL (21),
girlishly handsome, is wide open at the baseline. Killian
fakes a pass and goes up for the layup.
SWAT! He is blocked by PVT. BRIAN CARSON (23), immense and
boisterous, who comes out of nowhere.
Which one of your tits did you
block that with?
Fuck you that was my long arm of
the law!
My ball.
The ball is passed to Killian at the top of the key while a
shirtless Carson high fives teammates, his stomach jiggling.
Campbell fiddles with his hair as he jogs towards the top of
the key. He talks out of the corner of his mouth as he
passes Killian.
I wasn't wide open or anything
don't worry about it.
I might as well have shot with my
feet than give it to you.
Yeah you're pretty good at
handling balls with your feet.
In that case you're only allowed
to shoot with your mouth.
He flashes a smirk and looks around at the other soldiers
who laugh with him.
Well you're only allowed to shoot
with your asshole.


When do people put balls in their
asshole?! You're retarded even
when you talk shit.
Campbell walks away muttering to himself.
      (under his breath)
Fucking pussy...
Killian winds up and WHIPS THE BALL, right off of Campbell's
head. The other soldiers let out a few laughs or 'ooooohs.'
What'd you call me pretty boy?
Just forget it man.
A pussy is that right? If you
smell pussy on me it's from you
sister. And that pussy's finger
lickin' good.
He licks his fingers, eliciting laughs.
Don't talk about my family.
What? You wanna taste?
BAM! Killian blindsides Campbell with a mean right hook.
Campbell stumbles backwards. Killian laughs as a ring forms
around Campbell, pushing him back towards the fight
Friday does not move a muscle to stop the fight. The old vet
gets a kick out of this kinda shit.
Campbell throws a punch, half-assed, defensive. Killian
knocks it away with his forearm. He grabs Campbell's arm. He
shifts his weight and easily hurls Campbell to the ground.
Killian laughs as Campbell struggles. They wrestle briefly
as the other soldiers form a circle around them.
Killian overpowers Campbell on the ground and puts him in a
head lock. The crowd CHEERS.
PVT.BEN ROTHSTEIN (23), diminutive and bespectacled, pushes
his way into the center of the action.


Tap out! Tap out!
Put him to sleep!
                       SOLDIER 1
Night night...
Suddenly, Killian is pulled off of Campbell. He turns, fist
raised, to see Pearson gripping his uniform hard. He lowers
his fist.
Stand down, private.
Killian RIPS Pearson's hands off of his uniform. He eyes
Pearson down as he walks away, a smirk on his face.
MJR. ELLIOT BRASKOW (50), a man with a tight buzz of grey
hair and a crisp, clean uniform sits on a leather chair in a
room decorated with various army memorabilia and medals. He
sips a glass of whiskey on ice and smokes a cigarette as he
stares off into space, deep in thought.
He is roused from his ruminative state when Friday enters.
Braskow looks up and rises from his chair. He's happy to see
Friday. The feeling doesn't seem wholly reciprocated.
Gavin, when are you going to drop
this 'sir' bullshit?
They shake hands and Braskow gestures for Friday to sit.
You're my superior. Aren't I
supposed to call you 'sir', sir?
They talk familiarly, but not as old friends do.
Oh come on, Gavin. Maybe in front
of the troops we have to follow
protocol, but it's entirely
unnecessary when it's just us.


Braskow stands up and paces the room, he lingers on a
INSERT: A black and white picture, yellowed with age, of a
group of young men in army uniforms. A young Friday and a
young Braskow stand next to each other. Braskow grins
widely. Friday a tight grimace.
Do you want to be a soldier
forever, Gavin?
Pardon, sir?
I can't help but notice that you
quickly and kindly give me a big
'fuck you' in regards to every
promotion I've tried to give you.
And the only explanation I can
come up with is that you don't
want to give up the action, the
lifestyle. We're not young men,
Gavin. Hell your knee has more
metal in it than my dad's old
Friday stretches his right knee out and back. He chuckles.
Beats bein' something else I
Braskow turns and perches himself on the side of his desk.
Awkward trying to act comfortable.
You don't want to get back to your
Friday's demeanor darkens, just for a second.
I've been over here 4 straight
tours. My family ain't exactly
what you'd call a family.
Braskow is quick to tiptoe around.
Your country?


Insurance bills. Red lights.
Housing bubbles. Yeah. Can't wait.
Friday shakes his head and chuckles to himself.
                       FRIDAY (CONT'D)
Sometimes I think I'd rather die
out there than be another Joe
Schmuck civilian.
Braskow smiles, although it probably wasn't a joke. An
awkward silence.
                       FRIDAY (CONT'D)
Is that why you called me in here?
To talk feelings?
Braskow clears his head and grabs a DOSSIER from his desk,
he hands it over to Friday.
I have orders here for a recon
mission. Investigating alleged
civil rights abuses, use of
chemical weapons. Little shithole
north of here. Derhmatet. Our
intel on the matter so far is
shaky at best, not alot to go on.
Your orders are to assess the
situation, and intervene if
Friday takes the dossier and waits to hear more. There's
none. He shrugs.
So what's with the fuckin'
A thin smile spreads across Braskow's face.
Just wanted to make sure your old
bones were up to it.
Friday sits on his bed in a tidy yet spartan tent. Friday
picks up a SATELLITE PHONE and holds it for a moment. Tough


MARGARET FRIDAY (45) washes dishes in the kitchen. JACK
FRIDAY (5) sits at the table. He plays with a G.I. Joe.
Margaret glances at the phone, still absentmindedly wiping
the same dish.
Friday sighs and unfolds a PICTURE of Margaret and his son
as a newborn. He turns it over.
INSERT: Handwritten in sharpie. 'Never Let Go, Love M'
He folds the picture up and puts it back in his breast
pocket. He puts down the phone and clears his throat. He
swiftly exits the tent.
PVT. RICKY DELAHUNT(24) lies on the bed, throwing a small
football into the air and catching it. PVT. DESHAUN
MATHIS(20), PVT. JOEL MCCAFFERY(21) and Campbell pack up
rucksacks. Campbell sports a fresh black eye.
Delahunt, a small and wiry man sits up. He has a goatee and
a thick southern accent.
What're y'all packin this shit up
for? It's a simple recon, ain't
nothin gonna happen.
Mathis, a massive and imposing black man stops packing. He
talks with a gangster swagger.
The man said be ready for
All bullshit if you ask me.
They're sendin Sarge on some rinky
dink mission so he's tryin to
trump it up like we're goin to the
next motherfuckin D-day.
McCaffery, a blonde, muscular man wraps a bandana around his


They wouldn't send the Sarge if it
wasn't important. Orders probably
came straight from the president.
So you think it's gonna get hot?
Man, don't listen to his dumbass.
Probably don't even know what the
president look like. Put a turban
on him and this fool'd shoot him
McCaffery guffaws. He makes a pistol gesture with his hand.
Right between the eyes!
But really. I mean, biological
warfare? Scares the shit out of
Mathis chuckles.
Pssh, what don't scare the shit
outta you?
Friday enters.
Tea time's over. Let's move.
Friday and Pearson watch as the scattered soldiers load
equipment into two dusty green HUMVEES. Campbell glances
quickly at Killian, who blows him a kiss. Campbell looks
away and shuffles off.
Corporal, ever have one of those
days when you just know
everything's gonna go your way?
I believe I do, sir.


It ain't one of those days.
Friday slips on a pair of dark aviators and strolls to the
lead Humvee.
The Humvees drive through a large barren GULCH.

The cars glide effortlessly through the sand, leaving a
misty trail in the moonlight.
They leave deep trails in the sand, but the high winds
quickly blow them over.
The Humvees climb up a steep ridge, coming to a halt at the
precipice. At the top of it, they can see the outline of a
few small buildings.
The Humvees descend down a winding and rocky road.
Killian drives while Friday sits shotgun. McCaffery is in
the back fumbling with a map.
                       MCCAFFERY (O.S)
I just don't get it.
      (to himself)
There's a shocker.
      (pointing to map)
The dossier says we're supposed to
      (pointing to GPS)
but our nav says we're HERE. So
where the--
He is cut short...


HUMMER OVER. Dust and debris fly through the air.
The second car SWERVES to avoid the wreckage of the first.
KABOOOM! A second IED EXPLOSION RIPS through the underbelly
of the vehicle.
The men inside are thrown against each other, PEARSON is
EJECTED through the front windshield with a SMASH.
McCaffery hangs out of a shattered window.
The cars come to a stop.
Nobody moves.
From the shadows MASKED INSURGENTS wielding AK-47s swarm the
cars. Men grab Pearson and begin to pull the others out of
the car.

An insurgent opens a car door to reveal Friday, groaning. He
is barely conscious. He drags Friday out. Friday struggles
like a wounded beast. He groggily swings. He hits the
insurgent right in the face.

Angry, the insurgent presses his AK into Friday's chest. The
men eye each other down for a tense moment.
Well what are you waiting for?!
The INSURGENT LEADER, busy tying Killian's hands behind his
back, sees this. He shouts commands in his thick Arabic
                       INSURGENT LEADER
No! No kill!
The insurgent takes the barrel away from Friday's chest and
levels him with the butt of the rifle. Friday goes down
hard. His eyes flutter close.



A thin BEEPING sound becomes sharper and louder with each
His arms are bound to the railings of a hospital bed.He
tries with all his might to break free but cannot.
Friday's eyes SNAP open. He is lying diagonal to the
ceiling. He tries to move his head but can't.
He is in a dimly lit stone building.
Four SHADOWY FIGURES move in the distance. A bright halogen
light is directly over Friday, making it near impossible to
see into the darkness.
He looks around wildly. SEVERAL IVs ARE IN HIS VEINS. Clear
liquid courses through them. Electrodes and other sensors
are attached to his body at various places, the wires
curling out from under his uniform, which is torn and burnt.
Friday's struggling draws the attention of the figures in
the shadows. They swoop towards him like wraiths.
The light above Friday is brightened. It shines directly
into his eyes. The figures approach. Two hold him down as he
struggles. All of his assailants wear dull green GAS MASKS.
Their faces unrecognizable. Alien. He can barely see them in
the blinding light.
He starts gaining momentum. The bed shakes with each of his
The beeps of the machine are almost constant. His vital
He manages to RIP ONE ARM LOOSE from the bed. The gas mask
wearing figures struggle to corral him.
A figure approaches, holding a large and sinister HYPODERMIC
NEEDLE, which glistens in the light. The figure jams the
needle into Friday's exposed arm. Friday begins to struggle
more violently as the clear liquid floods his bloodstream.
The beeps slow down. He no longer has to be held down. They
reattach his arm. He barely puts up a fight.
His eyes close as the world as he knows it becomes blurry
and distorted.


FLATLINE. Darkness.
But we can still hear.
                       ARABIAN DOCTOR
We killed them. It didn't work.
What do we do now?
                       ARABIAN DOCTOR 2
Dump them. You cannot be seen.
A young ELLIOT BRASKOW (20's), thin and hawkish, walks with
THOMAS BARILLO (20's), tan and handsome, down a long
corridor. It is a dormitory.
They pass a large CALENDAR on the wall. It reads "February
A stairwell doorway opens. A young GAVIN FRIDAY (20's), fit
and handsome, swings through and slams the door shut when he
sees them.
What are you two doing out of your
The two are startled. Speechless for a moment as they look
at each other. Finally Braskow blurts out the first thing he
can think of.
We were just going to the
Friday raises an eyebrow.
Yeah. W-We both had to go.
A beat.


What are YOU doing out of YOUR
It's Friday's turn to scramble for an answer.
Just...patrolling the hallways.
Are you questioning my duties?
No! no!
Yeah. Not at all Gavin.
Carry on then.
Friday watches them disappear down the hall. When they are
out of sight he pulls the door open, revealing an ATTRACTIVE
YOUNG GIRL IN A NURSE'S UNIFORM. He pulls her through the
We see her nametag. Margaret. Rest for just a moment on the
A blistering winter night. Two figures trudge through the
snow towards a MASSIVE WOODEN WALL in the center of an
obstacle course.
The wall towers over them, flat and straight up. A knotted
rope dangles down.
You sure this is such a good idea?
We've gotta practice, we're never
gonna make time on the course if
we can't get up this damn thing.
They'll kill us if they catch us
out here. And it's so f-fuckin
That will make it easier when it's
not cold then. Come on, don't you
wanna be like Gavin? He could


                       BRASKOW (cont'd)
climb this thing in the middle of
a fuckin blizzard.
You mean YOU wanna be like Gavin.
Just get up those stairs and help
me, I'm going first.
If my hands don't fall off.
Braskow steels himself as he sees the figure of Thomas
appear at the platform on top of the wall. Braskow jumps,
grabbing the rope. He climbs, knot by knot, until he is
almost at the top.

He is fighting fatigue and the wind. He grits his teeth. He
is so close. His hand slips right when he is about to get on
the platform.
Give me your hand!
Struggling, Braskow barely grasps Thomas' hand. With a
monumental effort, Thomas pulls him up onto the platform.

His footing gives as Braskow reaches the platform. Thomas
stumbles backwards, trying to regain control on the icy
He fails.
He falls over the wooden railing. Down. All the way down. A
Braskow rushes down the stairs, leaping down the last few to
where Thomas' body lays. Thomas is not moving. His mouth
hangs open.
Braskow hits the ground and takes off, back to the buildings
of the Academy.
Face full of TITS. Margaret is riding the shit out of
Friday. She starts to moan. He reaches a hand up to muffle


A LOUD BANGING at the door. Friday easily lifts Margaret off
of him and throws her into the closet.
He closes the door. He sees her clothes, grabs them. He
opens the closet door again revealing her standing there
naked. She looks amused and a little irritated.
She begins to say something but gets a face full of her
clothes. The closet door closes again.
Friday opens the door to a red-faced DRILL SERGEANT. He
looks positively furious.
                       DRILL SERGEANT
First Class Friday put your
fucking clothes on and meet me
downstairs. Immediately.
Yes, sir.
Friday closes the door and walks to the closet.
He opens the door to a hastily clothed Margaret. His look
says "Sorry."
She smiles and rolls her eyes.
Friday sits in an empty room with the Drill Sergeant and two
other MILITARY OFFICIALS looming over him.
                       DRILL SERGEANT
Cadet Friday, are you aware that
all junior cadets are to be in
their bunks, lights out at
Sir, I do, sir!
The Drill Sergeant slams his fists on the desk.
                       DRILL SERGEANT
So would you mind telling me why
we had to drag the lifeless body
of one of your men, YOUR
responsibility, off of our
obstacle course this morning?
Friday's eyes dart back and forth. He is flustered.


Sir, I do not know, sir!
                       DRILL SERGEANT
Well one of your men is dead
cadet! And you're going to wish
you were too if you don't explain
to me why you let two of your men
out, past curfew, to engage in
unauthorized course practice!
T-two, sir?
                       DRILL SERGEANT
There were two sets of footprints
shithead! If you weren't with him
then one of these little pukes
was! I want answers or your whole
god forsaken platoon can kiss
their careers goodbye!
Friday looks towards the door, which is open just a crack.
He sees a quick flash of someone's head darting out of view.
It was me, sir.
Outside the room, Braskow puts his hand to his head and
breathes a sigh of relief.
Friday, shirtless, systematically shoves his clothes into a
large green duffel bag. He turns, revealing a criss-cross of
FRESH SCARS on his back.

He pulls a grey shirt on, picks up his bag, and goes to the
Friday walks through the grounds. He meets with a large
circle of cadets who all shake his hand and wish him well.
Braskow is among them.


Braskow looks down at his feet, shuffling them. He wants to
say something but can't.
Thank you.
For what?
                       CADET (O.S)
Hey Gavin! One last picture huh?
Of the whole platoon?
Friday sighs and drops his bag. A group of cadets pose
around him for a picture. Braskow places a hand on his
shoulder. Friday winces as he does.

We see Braskow's reflection as he once again stares at the
picture. He is holding a SATELLITE PHONE and looks angry,
worried, and under it all, scared.
Where are my men?!
                       CREEPY VOICE (O.S)
They are dead.
Braskow looks back into the picture. This time a LEERING
SKULL joins his reflection.
COLONEL LIONEL RIVERS (58), a burly and commanding figure,
struts towards through the military base. Soldiers all gaze
at him and whisper as he passes.
He is followed by 3 MILITARY POLICEMEN. The redheaded
Messenger from before leads them.


These are his quarters. When he's
here that is.
What do you mean when he's here?
He often goes off-base. Kinda
sketchy you ask me. We think he's
gettin some action with the
locals, but whether it's with boys
or girls is anybody's guess.
The Messenger laughs, but Rivers does not share his sense of
Rivers and the MP's walk right in to Braskow's Quarters.
Rivers and the MP's enter Braskow's Quarters. The place is
BARE. Ransacked.
Rivers looks pissed. He turns and struts out. The confused
MP's follow.
One holds HANDCUFFS at the ready, but puts them back into
his belt.
Margaret sits with Jack. Jack sits on her lap on a couch in
a neatly organized living room. Her eyes are swollen and
red. Jack looks around, bored. Margaret squeezes him tight.
She watches the news, where a well-kempt ANCHORMAN speaks.
The search has been called off
from the missing members of
Eckersly Army base after 6 weeks
of intense searching. The soldiers
were seen leaving the base, but
there is no record of their
patrol. Sources say they were on
an undisclosed and classified
mission, but this has not been
confirmed nor denied by Military
officials. They are presumed to be
casualties of war. We here at
channel 12 salute our brave


                       ANCHORMAN (cont'd)
soldiers and offer our condolences
to their loved ones.
Margaret turns the TV off, WEEPING SILENTLY.
Was that about daddy?
Margaret thinks for a moment with a pained expression. She
looks at her son's innocent face.
She shakes her head, trying to hold back tears.
No...your daddy is just fine.
Is he ever coming home?
I don't know Jack...I don't
Why are you crying?
Margaret does not answer but pulls Jack to her, embracing
him tightly. She kisses him once on the side of the head.
      (barely above a
I don't know...
She glances at the phone, silent.

The SHADOW of a large MALE FIGURE appears in the light from
the kitchen.
Blackness. A HEARTBEAT, faint, barely perceptible. Louder.
Until it becomes a thumping ROAR.
Not a heartbeat. FOOTSTEPS.
A muffled sound. A RIP through the nothingness. The red
evening sky can be seen through a tear in the blackness. A
gasping breath of air. The hole is open.


A young Arab girl's face looks in curiously. She has dark
hair and is a very pretty. Her eyes adjust. She SCREAMS and
runs away.
Friday climbs out of the black BODY BAG
His skin is gray and decaying. Black blood oozes out of open
tears in his skin.
His hands form claws, black and thick. He still wears his
uniform, which is torn and burnt.
Friday looks at a group of Arabs, who stare in awe and fear.
The young girl, ALIYA DAHLUMED (14), stands huddled behind
her father, DR.ACKBAR DAHLUMED (43), a skinny and bearded
man, who looks terrified and strangely, curious.
Where am I? Who are you?
The group of Arabs wince at the sound of his guttural growl.
Ackbar steps forward. He has an accent but speaks decent
We are in Derhmatet. I am Ackbar.
I am Doctor. You are hurt badly.
I'm fine.
But...you do not look fine.
Friday looks down at his hands, he is greeted by his curved
talons, his grey pallid skin. He looks up, yellow eyes wild.
I do not know. We found you like
this. The others the same.
Friday turns and sees a row of body bags, his empty.


Friday drops to his knees and lets out a yell that turns
into an inhuman howl by the end of it, sounding like a cross
between a lion's roar and the shriek of an eagle.
Friday rushes to the nearest bag, he rips the bag open,
exposing a monstrous Pearson.
In an instant Pearson's eyes WHIP open, his yellowed irises
snapping into focus. A BLUR, a REACTION. Pearson's hand
whips up, Friday grabs it in his own.
The sound of the two meeting is like a THUNDERCLAP. Pearson
looks up with unbelieving eyes.
I know. I mean I don't know. We're
all like this.
Pearson looks at his own hand. He inspects it, a distraught
look etched on his sallow face.
What in God's name?
That's what we're going to find
The two leaders walk amongst the rest of the body bags,
ripping them open and waking their occupants.
A few of the soldiers are up now. They look at each other,
mutually horrified. Killian is enraged.
You sand nigger fucking bastards
what have you done! I'll kill all
of you!
Killian charges towards the men. He is a blur.
The Arabs recoil. His path is stopped by Pearson, who throws
him backwards. Killian hits the sand hard. His body skids a
few meters. Both he and Pearson are surprised at the
strength of this action.
Killian is up again in a flash, chest to chest with Pearson.
They glare into each other's eyes. Killian bares a set of
fanged teeth.


Killian gives Pearson a menacing look. Pearson, unflinching,
meets his gaze. Killian sneers. Once the tension has broken,
the soldiers pepper their leader with questions.
What the fucks going on Sarge? How
did we...? I mean...what the fuck?
This gotta be a dream.
More like a fucking nightmare!
This can't be real. It's
What's wrong with my skin? My
My face...
The men stop, looking devastated. Their world's shattered.
I don't have answers for you. I'm
here just like all of you. This
man claims to be a doctor. Says he
can help us figure it out.
So what's the deal doc?
Yeah what the fuck is going on
Ackbar smiles nervously.
If you will follow me back to our
village. I may can answer your


The soldiers all look at Friday. This is too much for him
but he's got to play fearless leader. He nods and gestures
for Ackbar to lead the way. Nothing left to lose.
Please. Follow.
A dark room with a wooden desk and other Arabian
furnishings. A lone desk lamp provides a small aura of
light, which can not reach the dark corners of the room.
A man, HATIN (37),who tries to look commanding from his
submissive position, lies on the ground. His lip is
THE WARLORD, an imposing figure, face covered in a turban,
stands over him.
Hatin looks down the barrel of The Warlord's PISTOL.
Sorcerer! Devil-worshipper! I
should have known dealing with you
was a mistake. You and your people
are swine. You think my men will
follow you?!
From the shadows steps ARMED INSURGENTs all holding weapons
trained on Hatin. They have two other men, bound and gagged.
                       THE WARLORD
They already do.
      (re: the bound men)
well, you still have a few loyal
followers. They will meet the same
fate as you. Don't worry. It will
be quick.
The warlord produces from his pocket a large HYPODERMIC
If Hatin hadn't shit himself before, he does now.
The group trudges into a small village alive with activity,
everyone stops to stare at the newcomers, aghast but


curious. Ackbar waves to them, he is clearly well liked and
Ackbar speaks a few words in Arabic to the staring
villagers, holding up his hands. His words take a reassuring
tone, but the villagers do not seem at ease.
If this is Derhmatet, where the
hell were we?
Delahunt shrugs.
Beats the shit out of me.
Ackbar turns to his followers.
My office is at my home. It is not
what you are used to, we have
little money for health here.
Anything's better than the inside
of a body bag.
Ackbar leads them through his HOUSE to the backyard where a
small addition is connected. It shows a great amount of wear
and tear. The soldiers enter into a small WAITING ROOM with
mismatched chairs.
Aliya holds out a CUP OF WATER to Killian. He eyes her
You're in my fucking way.
He pushes her aside. She looks saddened, and holds the cup
out to Pearson. He smiles and takes it. He takes a sip. The
water trickles out of holes in his throat onto his chest.
Aliya returns his smile, amused.
Please take your seats. I will
need just one.
The soldiers look at each other for a few moments, their
eyes falling on Friday eventually.


Friday walks over towards Ackbar who smiles widely.
Very good. Come. I am most curious
as to your conditions.
An office just as small and dusty as the building, cracked
walls and peeling grey paint. There is a bed and a desk with
various medical tools neatly arranged on it.
Friday surveys the room.
Nice place.
Ackbar beams again, nodding.
It is home. I can work here.
Please, sit.
Friday casts a sideways look at the bed, but sits. Ackbar
hurries over to his desk and grabs a STETHOSCOPE. He seems
delighted to be doing his job.
I ask that you remove your jacket.
Friday takes off his uniform top. Underneath his chest is a
maze of BLUE VEINS. He is exceedingly defined and muscular,
just skin and thick bulging muscles.
      (to himself)
Jesus, even my senior year I
didn't look like this.
Ackbar places the stethoscope to Friday's chest. He pushes
hard, his eyes narrowing in concentration. He is listening
He picks it up, confused, and places it to another part of
Friday's chest, and another, and another.
But...this cannot be.


What is it Doc?
Your heartbeat...
A beat.
Well what about it?
Ackbar takes the earplugs of the stethoscope out. He looks
at Friday, a look of shock and concern plastered on his thin
It's not there.
What? That's impossible.
It is so! This is fascinating.
Never have I seen or read of a
thing like this.
Ackbar looks up at Friday, beaming. He is thrilled by this
new challenge.
                       ACKBAR (CONT'D)
I must be the first doctor ever to
treat such a condition!
Friday looks at him deadpan. Ackbar's smile quickly fades.
Back to a furrowed brow, a serious grimace.
Ackbar puts the earplugs in and moves his stethoscope to the
center of Friday's chest.
Breathe. Deeply.
Friday takes a deep breath, his chest does not move.
Ackbar's eyes widen.
Again. Breathe.
Friday repeats the motion with the same result. Ackbar's
mouth open. He seems even more excited, intrigued.


Your lungs are silent as well. I
surely do not know how you are
alive to move and talk. You are a
very lucky man!
Friday looks at his horrific visage in a cracked mirror on
the wall.
I wouldn't call it that.
Ackbar grasps a paper towel from a lone roll on the desk, he
holds out the open square to Friday's face.
Friday HACKS. A thick black mess issues forth and stains the
paper towel. Ackbar inspects it.
Blood. Old. This is what blood
looks like after months, years. It
has filled your lungs it seems.
Months? What day is it.
The tenth. June.
Friday's eyes widen, incredulous.
You've got to be fucking kidding
me. How did we survive without
food. Or water?
That I know not. I would need
better tools in order to
understand, maybe not then even.
Friday nods staring past the doctor at the wall, trying to
wrap his mind around the news he has learned but not
I need to get back to my base. Do
you have a radio?
Ackbar shakes his head. Friday grimaces. Of course not.


Map? Yes, yes. Inside. You are
welcomed to make use of it.
Friday stands, he grabs his uniform gruffly and puts it back
on while Ackbar throws away the paper towel and places his
equipment back.
Friday takes one last forlorn look in the mirror.
The door to the examination room opens.
The soldiers, all waiting quietly, some with their heads in
their hands or hanging between their legs. All heads and
yellowish eyes meet the two coming out.
Delahunt, Campbell, and Killian rush to meet them. The
others follow suit, falling in behind. They rapid-fire
questions at the two.
What's the deal, Sarge?
What did he say?
What is it doc?
Are we gonna be ok?
Is there a cure?
Friday holds his hands up to silence them.
Gentlemen, I don't know what I can
say that will make any sense to
any of us. We're in uncharted
He pauses and glances at their anxious and curious faces.


What the fuck are you talking
According to the Doctor, we've
been out there for months without
so much as a heartbeat.
So...What, we're dead?
Shut the fuck up Campbell.
No way in hell this shit is true!
Maybe his equipments all fucked
up! Maybe this guy's a fucking
A few soldiers chime in their agreements.
It's the best we have to go on
right now. The Doc saved us so
show him a little respect. He is
the only help we have right now
and he could have just as easily
left us to rot in the desert for
the rest of our...
      (trails off)
whatever you call this.
The soldiers try to digest this information. They look at
each other, Rothstein and Carson meet eyes, both shaking
their heads.
Campbell begins to cry, thick reddish black tears running
down his cheeks.
The men look up, desperate to hear words of solace and
wisdom from their fearless leader.
I don't think any of us want to
sit around here and feel sorry for
ourselves. We need to get moving.
We need to get back to base, so we
can figure out what's really going
on, at least that's our first step
in getting answers.


I don't wanna to go back to base,
I want to find the sumbitch who
did this to us!
Those fucking Hajis. That's what
we came up there for in the first
place, right? Investigations of
bio weapons?
We don't have enough answers, I'm
going to get a map from the Doc's
house, we'll try to find a way
back to base. I will see you all
through this, I promise you that.
He looks at Campbell, face hardening again.
And for god's sakes stop crying.
A larger adobe dwelling, open to the desert air. Ornate
murals and decorations cover the walls.

Friday sits at a wooden table, while Ackbar shuffles through
a chest of drawers, filled to the brim with various papers.
Through the windows Rothstein and Mathis kick a soccer ball
back and forth, Aliya laughs as she tries to chase it. They
are playing monkey in the middle. The soldiers both move
with unnatural speed and grace, they send the ball soaring
to each other with just light taps. Aliya has no chance.
They sit unspeaking as Ackbar continues to shuffle through
the papers. He grabs a large stack and sits at the table.
There are many maps, some newer, some old and yellowed.
In here, I believe.
Friday looks at a large bookshelf on the wall, it is the
nicest piece of furniture in the house. The books are
immaculately cared for and organized.
I gotta ask you somethin, Doc.
What's an educated guy like you
doing here? Why not in the cities,
where you can really make a


                       FRIDAY (cont'd)
Ackbar still scans through the maps.
An American sentiment. It is not
how many I help, but who that
matters to me.
      (looking up)
I grew up here, Derhmatet. These
are my people, they need me. The
warlords, they bleed my people
dry. Everything they want they
takes. There are many injured when
they come. That is why I am here.
My family. My people.
Ackbar looks down at the map.
Friday looks out at Aliya, screaming with delight as she
intercepts the ball and Mathis pretends to chase after her.
Ackbar breaks his reverie.
You have one?
A daughter?
No. A son.
How old?
4...No. 5. I missed his birthday.
Out there...
Ah, I remember the age, they do
grow so fast. Aliya will be 14
this coming month. I almost do not
believe the words as I say them.
So old.


She's beautiful. You should be
very proud.
I am concerned. I have heard
tales. The warlords used to come
to take our food, our money. This
new one, he comes for people.
Ackbar shudders at the thought.
Many fathers have died trying to
protect their daughters, I will
gladly do the same. She is my
life, as is your son to you, I am
Friday looks at the honest concern on Ackbar's face and
looks almost ashamed.
A soldier's life doesn't allow
much time for family, Doc. My son
barely knows me, my wife, well
let's just say she doesn't always
agree with my career choices.
Is this an American custom? To put
oneself over family?
I'm not putting my...I don't know.
I've always been such a good
soldier I never learned how to be
a husband or father.
I would not want to live without
family, even in paradise. Your
career will not mourn you when you
Friday thinks for a moment, his hand on his gnarled chin.
      (to himself)
I should have called...


You make it home safe. Keep my
words in mind.
Friday absentmindedly reaches into his jacket pocket. The
picture is still there.
She said she'll be waiting for me,
no matter what.
She will be, for family bonds are
stronger than any, you will see.
Four MILITARY TRUCKS speed towards Derhmatet. They are
loaded with INSURGENTS holding PISTOLS and MACHINE GUNS.
The Warlord sits in the truck at the lead. He signals for
two trucks to head towards one end of the town, and a truck
follows his to the other.
Friday and Ackbar study the map. Friday feels at ease, his
feet on the desk.
They are startled by GUNSHOTS off in the distance.
Friday looks out the window to see his soldiers ducking for
cover. Aliya remains in the street, struck with fear.
Pearson, lightning quick, runs from his cover and snatches
her up, moments before a large green truck RUMBLES though,
missing her by an inch.
The truck's mounted machine gun BLASTS the walls and
Friday pulls Ackbar to the ground.
BOOM! Pearson SMASHES through the heavy backdoor with just
his shoulder, sending it SPLINTERING into Ackbar's house.
He covers Aliya.
Friday looks at Pearson, whose back is riddled with bullet
holes slowly dripping black blood.


Pearson rises and dusts himself off. He looks at the door,
and his own oozing chest.
He and Friday share a look of amazement and understanding.
Villagers flee a market square as MASKED and ARMED MEN
approach. They fire shots into the air.
A ragtag group of INSURGENTS splits up, some running down an
alley. Others grab fruits and vegetables from the racks of
the market, filling large burlap bags.
One of the insurgents grabs a young woman, holding his gun
up to her and SHOUTING in Arabic. She takes off a gold
bracelet and trembling, thrusts it at him.
He strikes her with the barrel of his AK-47, sending her
sprawling to the ground.
Friday runs from the house, where the men all stand,
listening to the screams and gunshots. He walks with a new
step. An uncommon, predatory swagger.
Friday BARKS, his voice booming.
Be ready men! Our fight's not
done, yet.
This isn't our fight.
The lives of the innocent are at
risk. This is what we signed up
for. Or did your sense of duty
disappear with your pulse?
We don't even have guns!
      (re: Pearson's
Their bullet's cant even touch us
and NOW you all decide to go soft
on me?


A beat.
We're still soldiers goddammit!
Engage on sight.
The soldiers all nod eagerly. Hungrily.
The green truck, of an old military issue, TEARS through the
streets. There are 4 men inside, 3 armed and one driving.

They turns a corner and there stands Friday, alone.
The men look at each other and speak a few hurried words in
Arabic. Friday charges, he is amazingly fast.

They begin to FIRE, bullets RIPPING through his uniform and
arms, causing thin trickles of black blood.

He does not waver or give any indication of pain. He barely
seems to notice.

The driver HITS THE GAS, hoping to run him over. They meet
with a titanic CRASH! Neither gives ground.

The front end of the truck CRUMPLES ON IMPACT with Friday.
He strains and slowly lifts the front end of the truck, its
tires spinning futilely.

He lifts the truck over his head. HE FLIPS IT OVER onto its
back with a CRASH!

The driver and another man are CRUSHED under the weight of
the car, the others jumping off just before it was flipped.
An INSURGENT lands hard from the jump, falling to the
ground. He struggles to his feet.

Friday looms over him. Friday HITS him in the face with the
force of a BATTERING RAM.

The Insurgent's head SNAPS, his jaw SHATTERING instantly.
INSURGENT #2 appears from behind, FIRING SEVERAL SHOTS into
Friday's back.

Friday grabs the barely conscious Insurgent and turns,
HURLING his body at top speed into insurgent #2. They both
are SLAMMED by the force of the throw into the wall,
cracking it and shaking the building.

They both fall lifeless to the ground.


SCREAMS. MORE GUNSHOTS. Friday turns and dashes off.
Three insurgents chase a group of villagers down an
alleyway, they are screaming in Arabic with tones of
excitement and enjoyment.
Suddenly the wall of the alley BLASTS open. Rubble and dust
fly. Killian and an insurgent fly through, smashing into the
side wall.
Mathis and Delahunt follow through the hole, Delahunt
pounces like a jaguar on the first insurgent.
Killian continues to rain blows upon the man he is holding.
Delahunt tackles his prey, crushing his windpipe with his
He takes bullets to the shoulders and chest from the other
insurgent who FIRES as he flees past Killian.
Delahunt leaps and grabs him by the shoulders.
He holds the insurgent high above his head, his claws
digging into the center of the man's chest.
Like ripping paper he SPLITS the man's torso open, sending
blood and guts showering down on him. The blood spray stains
Killian's face and Mathis' back.
Delahunt drops the flayed man, covered in his blood. He
surveys the scene, flexing his neck and hands.
Another insurgent lies dead, neck as flat as a pancake,
blood still gushing from his mouth, ears, and nose.
Mathis and Killian look at Delahunt, who bears his teeth,
fire in his eyes. Killian grins in approval.
A group of empty trucks. The Warlord stands near a group of
insurgents hauling loot into the trucks. There are GUNSHOTS
echoing through the streets. He looks around wildly.
A lone INSURGENT #1, bloody and distraught, runs towards


                       THE WARLORD
What is the meaning of this? What
the hell is going on?
The Insurgent chokes out the words.
                       INSURGENT 1
They are fighting back. They are
also aided by ungodly creatures.
But these are men.
                       THE WARLORD
What is this nonsense? Have you
gotten into the poppies again?
                       INSURGENT 1
Devils in American uniforms.
The Insurgent's knees buckle. He lands face first in the
dirt. He leaks blood from four long, deep gashes in his
back. Claw marks.
The Warlord's eyes widen in fear. He turns to a group of
soldiers guarding him.
                       THE WARLORD
Signal a retreat. Grab whatever
you can.
There are no soldiers in sight. Insurgents roam the streets
freely, grabbing women and looting houses. They laugh as
they SMASH down doors.
Ackbar sits under his desk, hiding. He is very scared. He
rocks back and forth. GUNSHOTS and SCREAMS reverberate
through the walls. He hears a door being kicked down,
accompanied by GRUFF VOICES.
He puts his head in his hands, whispering a quick prayer.


It is unanswered.
The door to his office is flung open. Two INSURGENTS storm
They find him quickly. OMAR, the larger man, drags Ackbar to
his feet. The other, TALIB, rummages through his drawers in
Ackbar's desk.
Please! Take everything! Do not
hurt me! I have money, look!
He fumbles in his pockets and throws down a few CRUMPLED
The masked insurgent looks down at the money, he throws
Ackbar to the ground. He looks at the money again,
This is all you have?
Please! You took all my money
already! I have nothing left to
      (to Talib)
Find him his Qu'ran! If he is
holding it while he makes passage,
Allah may be merciful to him.
Talib finishes with the desks. He leaves the drawers open.
Papers and other items scattered around. He begins scanning
the bookshelf.
He takes a whole row of books off the shelves and throws
them wildly.
NO! Please! I have all the money
you want! Gold! Take me! I am a
doctor! Lord Haqiri will have use
for me!


He has no use for sniveling scum
like you.
Talib inspects the back of the bookshelf. The top of a HOLE
is visible where the books were. The rest of the hole is
hidden by books.
The insurgent moves the whole bookshelf from the wall.
No! Please!
In the whole in the wall sits a cramped Aliya, crying from
Omar removes his mask, revealing a wickedly crooked smile.
So there was a treasure here after
all. He will be most pleased. I
wonder if I should test her
character before presenting him to
her. He has a special plan for
this group.
No! You cannot have her!
Aliya tries to run but is grabbed and picked up easily by
SLAP! Omar easily sends him to the ground.
Ackbar gets up again, fueled by adrenaline and fear.
Aliya KICKS AND SCREAMS as Talib starts to carry her away.
Omar turns to Talib, he holds a large silver REVOLVER. He
points it at Ackbar. He grins sadistically.


Not enough to lose your daughter,
you also want to lose your life?
      (to Talib)
No. I want her to watch this. Her
brave daddy.
Talib stops and turns Aliya towards the two men. She is
crying but remains silent, watching.
Ackbar charges again, this time catching Omar by surprise.
The revolver goes SKITTERING under Ackbar's desk.
Omar falls backwards. Ackbar throws a punch, which strikes
Omar's face cleanly.
Omar, the larger and stronger man, laughs and head-butts
Ackbar. He then picks up Ackbar and slams him onto the desk.
Ackbar groans in pain, the breath escaping from him.
Omar grabs him by the shirt, and drags him from the desk to
land hard on the floor.
This is why you do not resist.
Maybe I will keep your little girl
for myself. My secret lover. Or
maybe I share her with my
brothers, so we all can share in
her beauty. It is such a shame to
waste it.
Ackbar turns and SPITS BLOOD, hitting Omar squarely in the
Omar wipes his face slowly, he inspects his hand with a look
of disgust.
He KICKS the prone man hard. Again. Again. Again. Again.
Ackbar's body jerking with each kick. Aliya screams, crying
hard now.
Omar continues to kick until Ackbar lies still. He leans in
close to the unmoving man.


Thank you for your generous gift.
A long, narrow street. INSURGENTS have taken defensive
positions behind trucks and walls at one end. They have the
soldiers bottlenecked in an alleyway.
RATATATAT! They are POURING BULLETS down to the other end of
the street where all of the soldiers crouch in buildings or
behind cars.
The soldiers duck into vacant stores as an RPG RUSHES
towards them, BLASTING a crater in the middle of the street.
Delahunt looks enraged. He seethes, foaming at the mouth.
He stands. His posture is crooked, sloping. There is madness
in his eyes.
Why are we fuckin hiding? They
can't touch us!
It is unclear whether he is talking to his comrades or
Sarge said stay put!
Friday, Pearson, Killian, Campbell and McCaffery are in an
adjacent building. They are pinned down by gun fire.
Fuck Sarge. He ain't super soldier
no more, we're all on the same
playing field now.
Delahunt sprints towards the door. Friday sees this.
Private! Hold your position!
Delahunt looks at him contemptuously for a moment, before
leaping through the broken glass of the window. The glass
ERUPTING into the streets.


He charges directly towards the insurgent position. Bullets
RIP through his body. He throws his head back and cackles,
inhuman and cold, as he drives forward.
He is almost at his goal. An INSURGENT from one of the
windows, aims steadily. He FIRES.
Black mist SPRAYS from Delahunt's skull. He drops. He does
not move.
Friday puts his head in his hands, distraught. He shakes his
God dammit.
Campbell looks nervous again, a strange expression for such
a hulking monstrosity.
What the hell are we gonna do now?
We're outnumbered 4 to 1.
We can't leave him behind, he's
still a soldier. We all are, and
we still have a duty to uphold.
He waves to the soldiers across the street. He signals to
them, two fingers up. It seems like he wants them to move
Rothstein looks at him and nods, he then turns to the solid
wall behind him. He looks back and shrugs.
Friday makes another motion, smashing his fist into his open
Rothstein nods in understanding. He rises and taps Carson on
the shoulder.
Carson grabs hold of the countertop, RIPPING the entire
thing from the tile floor, he then heaves it through the
wall, SMASHING a gaping hole. Rothstein, Carson, and Mathis
clamber through.
They're going to flank the
targets, we're going to move
forward and try to draw their


                       FRIDAY (cont'd)
fire. Move slowly and for god's
sakes keep your head down.
Pearson turns to Friday with his usual solemn glare.
I may find peace after all.
Who the fuck thinks about peace at
a time like this?
Pearson and Friday head out, ducking behind a car, together
they easily flip it over. Bullets TEAR through the hood and
trunk. The rest of the men duck behind it.
Slowly they push the car forward. Its metal frame scrapes
along the dirt road.
Friday peeks his head out. He sees Delahunt's corpse about
10 meters ahead. A SPARK against the frame of the car causes
him to duck his head back down.
They trudge on further, the car slowed by the amount of sand
it has gathered in front of it. They are almost at Delahunt.
We're drawin all of the fire where
they hell are they? This pile
can't take much more.
As he says this a SHRIEK ECHOES through the air. They look
up to see Rothstein, leaping from a rooftop. He lands on an
insurgent, tossing his body to the ground with a quick
The insurgent's position breaks down as a car flies through
the air, smashing through a wall where many were hidden.
They begin to flee. Rothstein stands triumphant on the wall.
Friday and Pearson drop the car.
They're running! They'll die as
cowards now!
No. We need to tend to our dead.
Killian shows the same wild look that Delahunt had, but does
not pursue the enemy.


Are you fucking kidding me?! Look
at me!
Friday glares him down. He is not fucking kidding him.
Killian narrows his eyes but is silent.
The soldiers all stand around Delahunt. He looks even more
inhuman with the spark gone from his yellow eyes. His face
still twisted in a laugh.
I'm gonna miss the loud bastard.
We will bury him tonight.
Friday looks towards Pearson. He shrugs.
May he finally find peace.
The sun is setting, the night sky angrily red. McCaffery and
Mathis, shirts off and gigantic muscles ripping, dig a deep
grave. They are almost done now. Delahunt lies next to it,
his hands folded across his chest, his eyes closed, face
Friday stands over him.
March on soldier, to better worlds
than this.
Friday nods towards Pearson, who stands over the body.
Pearson approaches, pulling a POCKET BIBLE from his uniform
pocket. He looks out at the solemn and gnarled faces of his
He opens the bible and reads a passage. He reads it loudly,
but without passion, as if he himself does not believe the
As it is written,

'For your sake we are being
killed all day long;
we are accounted as sheep to be


                       PEARSON (cont'd)

No, in all these things we are
more than conquerors through him
who loved us. For I am convinced
that neither death, nor life, nor
angels, nor rulers, nor things
present, nor things to come, nor
powers, nor height, nor depth, nor
anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us from
the love of God in Christ Jesus
our Lord.
He concludes and a poignant silence fills the air. McCaffery
and Mathis lift Delahunt, into the air, they lower him into
his grave and gently place him down.
They clamber out and all the soldiers surround the grave.
They all give him one last salute, and McCaffery and Mathis
begin to fill the grave back up with dirt.
Sand finally covers his ghoulish face.
The soldiers mill around the grave site, marked by two
AK-47s tied together, forming a cross.
Killian, Pearson, and Mathis stand together.
Felt good to be back in action
It is nice to serve a purpose.
But I mean this shit...what a
rush. Combat's never felt like
this before, this is better than
Pearson looks sideways at him.
It's always a rush when you in the


I've been in the shit. It wasn't
like this. We're so powerful now.
We can do anything. Tear men
apart. With our bare hands.
You think this is all fun and
games private? Your fellow soldier
lays dead in that ditch. Show some
goddamn respect!
I'm doin it for him. You remember
they're the enemy right? I don't
know why we let them leave alive,
I wanna take it to them. Make them
scream for what they've done.
Pearson eyes Killian with a thick mix of curiosity, concern,
and repulsion.
Friday approaches.
      (to Killian)
Have you figured out how to get us
Yeah Sarge but-
We should go pay our respects to
the Doc, then we'll ship out. I
think we can salvage some of these
Don't you want to find them? Get
revenge for this shit? What he
made us?
Private, I want to get back to my
wife and son. I've already lost
one man and I will not lose
another. Once we get back to base
and they see what he's done to us,
they'll bring the whole might of
the US military down on him. He
will get his.


I wanna be there, I want my ugly
mug to be the last he ever sees. I
wanna feel his bones break, his
last gasps.
This situation has not changed a
thing. I am still your superior. I
have issued my orders are you
going to question them?
A flare in Killian's eyes, he seems to loom larger than
normal. It's gone as quickly as it comes.
No sir.
That's what I thought. Now, let's
get that map from the Doc and get
the hell out of here. Fall in.
Killian eyes Friday mutinously as he walks past.
The soldiers walk down the streets, seeing the aftermath of
the raid. Doors are kicked in, windows smashed. Villagers
tend to their wounded family and friends in the street, or
try to reassemble their belongings. They all look at the
soldiers as they pass, with fear and reverence.
Jesus...how did this happen?
Too many of them and too few of
I hope the Doc's alright.
Friday sees Ackbar's house. There are no lights on.

Friday sprints towards the door without a word. The rest jog
behind him.


Friday hurtles through the hole where the door once was. He
sees the chaos inside. The chest of drawers has been thrown

Papers litter the floor. Lamps smashed.
Friday looks around but sees no sign of him.
He sees a door next to the kitchen, also smashed open. He
runs to it as the other soldiers enter the house.
Friday enters the room. He sees the smashed bookshelf and
Ackbar lying on the floor, still unmoving.
Christ no.
Friday runs over to Ackbar. The turns him over. The man is
heavily bruised on his face.
Doc, wake up! Wake up!
Friday crouches over him, shaking him violently, he forgets
his own strength.
Ackbar groans in pain as his bruised ribs are jostled. He
begins to rouse.
He's alive. Doc, you're ok just
Ackbar's eyes are open. He is fully awake. His eyes are wide
with panic.
He pushes a surprised Friday out of the way and jumps up,
wincing as he does.


They took her! They took my Aliya!
I could not help her!
His adrenaline dies down and the weight of his own words
sink onto him. He sits, defeated, in his chair and weeps
into his hands.
My beautiful girl. I have failed
you. My princess...
They took Aliya?
Ackbar nods, still sobbing.
I tried to fight. Tried to protect
her. I am not a man of war, I
could not fight to save her.
You look like you took a hell of a
Ackbar looks up with pained eyes.
I said I would protect you. I let
you down. We drove them out of the
village, but I guess we were too
late here.
It is not your fault. It is mine.
A father must protect his family,
and I have failed...twice. I do
not deserve a family, happiness. I
do not deserve to live.
Nothing is more important than
life, I didn't realize that until
now. It's a gift, not something
you throw away. We will get her
back, and find the man
responsible. My men need this too.
I need this.
Ackbar smiles weakly.


Friday turns to see the soldiers standing at the doorway,
silently. Their eyes all fixed on their leader.
      (to Killian)
Look like you'll get your revenge
after all. We move out at once.
Every second could mean...
He trails off, not wanting to bring up the unthinkable to
Ackbar. Ackbar pretends to not notice, pretends to be
Killian's face turns into a feral smile. He is thrilled by
the possibility of bloodshed.
The soldiers file out, Friday at the rear. The soldiers turn
at the sound of a loud CLICK!
Friday glances back and sees Ackbar, holding OMAR'S
REVOLVER. The chamber is open and he is inspecting it.
Friday raises an eyebrow. Ackbar meets his gaze.
I am done sending others to fight
for me. This is my battle. I will
join you.
You can't, you're not like us.
You'll die.
Ackbar's face turns serious. Grim.
But I am. Like you. Aliya is my
life. He took her away. I no
longer fear death.
He SNAPS the chamber of the handgun shut, punctuating his
The soldiers and Ackbar file outside of Ackbar's house.
Killian. Mathis. Get some trucks
up and running.


Killian half-heartedly nods, anxiously clenching and
unclenching his right fist.
Mathis nudges Killian. Killian is snapped out of his own
thoughts, his lips curled into a snarl for just a moment. He
gestures for Mathis to lead the way. They trudge offscreen.
The rest of you, gather all of the
weapons you can. I don't condone
looting the dead but we have no
other options. We can't surprise
them this time, and now they know
we can be brought down. We're the
evidence that he has tricks up his
sleeve we've never seen before.
It'll feel good to hold iron
You still remember how to shoot?
Like he ever knew. He you couldn't
hit fat boy's gut from point
blank. And now you're just as ugly
as all of us so you've got nothing
going for you.
I'm better looking now than you
ever were.
And I'm not even fat anymore.
Check it out.
Carson lifts his shirt, revealing his stomach, a thick
barrel of muscle.
The other soldiers all laugh. Their grim situation is
replaced with the camaraderie they had before being mutated.
The soldiers make surprised noises at Carson's new physique.
Rothstein whistles, imitating a catcall.


This is the best thing that's ever
happened to you. I bet you hope we
never find a cure.
Friday loudly clears his throat.
Children? The guns?
The situation returns. The laughter stops.
The soldiers disperse in ones and twos. Friday, Ackbar and
Pearson stand alone.
Ackbar's normal calm, easygoing attitude is gone. He stands
focused, determined. He grips the pistol white-knuckled, his
thumb fidgeting on the hammer.
Friday looks to Pearson.
Disobeying orders Corporal?
The horrors I've seen out there.
The way they tore those men apart,
the way they enjoyed it. The way
they reveled in it, even at their
own friend's funeral. It sickens
me to the core. The bloodlust. The
madness. I saw it in Private
Delahunt, I'm starting to see it
in the others.
It is a chilling thing to hear a
man speak about murder with such
Friday places a hand on Pearson's shoulder.
We'll be alright. We'll find a
We are abominations. The devil
mocks us with this half-life,


                       PEARSON (cont'd)
preventing us from eternal peace.
We are his creatures now, in his
twisted kingdom. I should be in
heaven, but now I am a prisoner to
this world. There will be no cure,
there is no hope.
You can't think like that, Jon.
Believe in me, if nothing else.
I do. We all do. We would follow
you to hell and back, sir.
You already have.
Friday walks into the house. He hears rummaging in the

He enters and sees Ackbar putting bread into a small
rucksack. He does not look up as Friday enters.
Are you sure you're ready for
this? Combat isn't like the
movies, the bullets don't always
miss the hero. It doesn't always
have a happy ending.
I am ready for what comes. If I am
to die I will make them join me. I
am no hero. Just a man. A father.
He closes the rucksack. He looks towards the refrigerator, a
crayon drawing posted onto it.
There are three figures scribbled on the drawing. A small
girl is flanked by a larger man and woman. A halo hovers
above the woman's head.
I must ask of you a favor, my
Name it.


When we retrieve my daughter, you
will take her to America with you?
You can both come.
I have explained before why I
remain. My people. They still need
They'll have nothing to fear when
we wipe this bastard off the map.
I wish it were so. There will be
another to take his place, and
another after him. There will
always be wounded, there will
always be bad men. I am needed
here, but I cannot keep my
daughter in harm's way.
Friday is silent for a moment. He looks at Ackbar, impressed
by the new strong and commanding presence.
Of course I will, Doc.
Ackbar smiles, trying to reassure himself that it is for the
She will have good life in
America. The daughter of an
American war hero.
I'm no hero. Just a man.
Ackbar smiles, a tear at the corner of his eye.
There is a rumble of an engine and a beep of a truck horn
from outside.
Killian sits in a small RED PICKUP TRUCK. It is dented and
weatherbeaten. He appears impatient, agitated.


Behind him is a larger GREEN FLATBED TRUCK. Military-style.
Mathis sits calmly in the driver's seat.
Rothstein stands in the bed of the green truck. Campbell and
Carson take turns handing him AK-47s and AMMO, which he
places in a large pile in the back of the truck.
McCaffery and Pearson talk quietly. When McCaffery sees
Friday he perks up.
How do we even know where we're
going, Sarge?
Friday begins to speak but is cut off by Ackbar, who speaks
in an authoritative tone.
We will follow the tires tracks.
All other roads go south, around
the mountains. They come from the
north, they make their own roads.
We will use them.
McCaffery looks at Friday.
You heard the man.
You sure?
Sure? I am not. But I must move, I
will die of thirst searching the
desert before I give up.
A pause. Ackbar puts his hand absentmindedly on his chest.
I can feel her. She is so scared,
please let us move.
Mathis approaches holding an AK-47.
That's a nice gat you got, Doc.
You might have better luck with
one of these bad boys though.
Ackbar puts the revolver into his waistband. Mathis tosses
the AK-47 to him. Ackbar clumsily catches it, almost
dropping it. He holds it awkwardly.


Ever shot one of those before?
Ackbar points it around, pretending to aim.
Never. It cannot be very
difficult, can it?
Just make sure the safety's on.
BLAM! The gun sounds off. The men all jump, following their
soldier instincts.

Rothstein looks down at his chest, where a fresh
bulletwound seeps blood. He looks up sarcastically like
"Thanks a lot." Ackbar lowers the rifle, startled.
The mismatched trucks drive through a desert pass. There are
tire tracks already embedded in the dirt, which the trucks
loosely follow.
Killian glares moodily over the steering wheel. Ackbar sits
in the middle, separating him from Friday.
How much further?
Ah...you see? The mountains. That
is where we are heading. He uses
the caves as his base, he hides
deep in the mountains...coward.
Got some fight in you huh? That's
what I like to hear. He is a
coward, that's why we're takin the
fight to him, and all his men.
We'll kill 'em all.
Friday glances over at Killian, curiously.


I remember when you used to
pretended to pull muscles or fake
dehydration just to get out of
combat exercises. Now you're the
These ain't no exercises, this is
the real deal. Nothing compares.
Killian trails off, lost in his own thoughts. He licks his
lips, his thick black tongue running over fanged teeth.
The trucks wind around a ridge, in the distance is a SMALL

Two large stone buildings loom over the smaller ones. A
large CAVE OPENING is at the base of the mountain.
We are here. Aliya, I am coming
for you.
Killian slams his foot on the gas, anxious to get into
Easy private, we should stick
They are closer now. The red pickup pulling away from the
larger green truck. Killian makes no sign of hearing
Friday's orders.
They are passing massive poppy fields, where bronzed men
tend to the plants, they stop as the trucks fly past. The
pickup has a sizeable lead now.
Private! Slow down! This is an


A lone INSURGENT, hidden behind a rock formation, gets a
signal from another INSURGENT on a tower. He nods and aims
his RPG at the speeding RED TRUCK. FWOOSH! He fires.
The red truck is flying now, bouncing over the uneven road.
Friday leans over and grabs the wheel, sending the truck
spinning to the left.
The rocket hits where the truck just was, the force of the
BLAST sending it spinning, flipping completely over with a
CRASH! The bottom of the truck is on fire.
They watch as the RPG flips the humvee over. GUNSHOTS start
peppering the truck.
Sarge! Stop!
Ambush! Keep driving! Keep your
heads down!
More soldiers appear from the rocks, they FIRE more rockets
at the speeding vehicle. They barely miss.
We can't leave him!
He can take care of himself. He
wouldn't want us to stop.
The soldiers duck down as insurgents from rooftops fire at
their truck, another ROCKET WHIZZES past their truck, barely
Two JEEPS fly out through the front gate of the compound,
they each carry a handful of armed INSURGENTS. The cars fly
past the burning wreckage of the red truck.


BLAM!BLAM!BLAM! An insurgent fires a large mounted machine
gun from the back of one truck. The bullets eat through the
thin steel of the green truck.
The truck smolders. Friday kicks the door clean off of the
hinges and pulls himself out. He reaches in and manages to
pull Ackbar out too.
Are you okay?
I am unhurt.
He limps slightly. Both men look like they believe his
Friday looks to the other side of the truck.
Private? Private?! Killian?
He bends over, the driver seat is empty, the door hanging
open still.
Friday looks up, they are right at the entrance to the
Your friends, where are they?
They'll be fine we need to get you
out of here before they realize
they didn't finish the job. This
is the second time they left me
for dead, and they're gonna regret
Friday puts his hand out. Ackbar grabs it and is lifted up
The truck SWERVES to avoid the jeeps, missing the opening
for the gate and heads up a steep mountain pass along the


They are followed by the jeeps, bright halogen lights
illuminating the red dusk.
The soldiers FIRE from the shattered truck windows and bed,
trying to keep low and away from the returning fire.
An INSURGENT from the leading truck hoists an RPG to his
I got it.
McCaffery crouches, preparing to jump.
Private do not-
McCaffery LEAPS.
                       PEARSON (CONT'D)
McCaffery leaps, clinging onto the sheer rock wall to his
left. His gnarled hands dig into the rock, anchoring him.
The first jeep is almost on him. He swings his legs forward,
his boots striking the RPG carrying insurgent directly in
the chest.
The insurgent is launched off, hitting another insurgent off
of the trailing jeep, sending them both spinning to the
Mcaffery gracefully lands on one, breaking his spine. The
other one twitches and is still. McCaffery watches as the
three trucks speed away.
McCaffery picks up the RPG and slings it over his back. He
takes off, climbing sideways along the rock face as if it
were nothing. He slowly gains on the trucks as they struggle
up the steep, winding road.
The soldiers fire at the swerving jeeps, who fire back.
Carson mashes on the trigger but only a small CLICK


He smacks the gun in frustration. He hurls the rifle. It
SMASHES into the windshield of the front car, causing the
jeep to swerve into a 360 and come to a stop.
McCaffery leaps from the wall in between the cars, sprinting
at an impossible pace after the lead car, aiming the RPG. He
presses the trigger. Nothing happens.
God dammit why won't you shoot.
Pearson aims and takes a patient, precise shot. The front
tire of the jeep EXPLODES, sending it careening into a wall.
It stops and begins to roll slowly down the immensely steep
McCaffery inspects the RPG while running, he does not see
the jeep TUMBLING towards him. It is almost too late.
He looks up and throws himself to the ground, tucking into a
roll. He slides right under the jeep. It almost crushes his
head as it continues its descent.
McCaffery jumps to his feet, holding the RPG by the strap.
His eyes are wide, he can't believe he survived. The green
truck is stopped, the other soldier's all staring at him.
They can't believe it either.
McCaffery drops the RPG. It hits the ground and ERUPTS,
sending a rocket SOARING behind him.

It impacts the second jeep, now back on course,as it
finishes swerving around the first wreckage. The rocket hits
it dead on, OBLITERATING the vehicle and its contents.
McCaffery holds a thumbs up to his fellow soldiers. Pearson
shakes his head.
Killian stalks the shadows, he moves quickly and silently
through an alley between two buildings.
He turns the corner and is startled by a FIGURE leaping
towards him, out of the shadows.
He lands on his back. A YOUNG MAN is on top of him and
pushes a large MACHETE into his chest.


He growls and jams his claws into the boy's eyes. The boy
shudders. Blood runs down Killian's arms into his open,
snarling mouth.
His pupils dilate. Eyes wide. He grins maliciously and pulls
the machete from his chest.
The soldiers stand at the ridge, overlooking the compound.
Most of it is shrouded in shadow but there are also many
floodlights illuminating parts. There is a buzz of motion
from the base.
Pearson stands on a precipice, inches from the cliff. The
sky a deep, mysterious purple behind him. His chalky skin
stands out strong against it.
It's quiet down there. If Sarge
was fighting there'd be gunshots.
You think he's...
Whatever he is we need to get down
there and find out.
The truck's ruined.
Pearson looks down the steep embankment.
We'll attack by air.
Now we're allowed to jump?
It's too high. I don't know about
Last one down's a dead man.
Pearson hurls himself off of the cliff, hurtling towards the
compound. The rest follow, looking like monstrous bats in
free fall.


Pearson lands with a BOOM, sending a plume of dust high into
the air around him. He is followed by McCaffery, Rothstein
and Campbell.
Carson lands next, CRASHING through the roof of the adjacent
GUNFIRE IMMEDIATELY SPRAYS from a nearby rooftop. The sound
of Arab voices carries through the alleys.
Campbell and Rothstein, who still hold firearms, return
Get to those rooftops. Stay low,
stay quick.
The men begin to move out. Pearson's foot catches on
something. He looks down.
It is the young boy, eyes gouged out, throat slit wide open.
An INSURGENT FIRES his AK-47 through the window where he
He does not see McCaffery scaling the outside of the
McCaffery leaps up, grabbing onto the insurgents
outstretched arms as he braces his feet against the outside
ledge of the building.
With one mighty tug he RIPS the insurgent through the
window, who still FIRES his weapon. The insurgent turns head
over heels until his arm is completely extended.
McCaffery tears his arm off with a SNAP! The insurgent's
body continues to tumble to the ground.
An insurgent runs over, aiming his AK-47 at McCaffery's
A muscular grey hand pounds through the wall, grabbing his
The hand then pulls him violently towards it, hard into the


He is pushed backwards as Campbell leaps diagonally through
the window, holding onto the side as an anchor. His legs
swing forward, kicking the Insurgent hard in the chest.
The insurgents ribcage shatters like your mother's favorite
vase. Blood pours from his mouth.
Campbell looks down to Rothstein as he stomps on a prone
man, smashing his face into the floor.
Friday and Ackbar duck from cover to cover. They are behind
a small building when they hear voices. Friday motions for
Ackbar to be silent.
Two INSURGENTS are arguing, motioning towards the sounds of
Friday points to himself, then to one. He then points to the
other, and to Ackbar. He nods his head questioningly. Ackbar
Friday raises his eyebrow. Ackbar nods again, emphatically.
He steels himself.
In a blur Friday is around the corner. Friday grabs onto the
man nearest him. Friday's claws tighten around the man's
throat as he easily lifts him into the air.
The other insurgent goes for his weapon.
He freezes. He holds still as Ackbar, AK-47 slung around his
back, pushes a revolver to his head.
Where is my daughter?
The man freezes. The insurgent that Friday holds tries to
scream, but Friday tightens his hold. The call for help dies
in the man's mouth.
Tell me what I want to hear or it
will be the last thing you ever


                       INSURGENT #3
I do not...
BANG! The man drops to the ground. Friday's eyes widen in
surprise. Ackbar turns the gun on the other.
Do you need me to repeat the
The man shakes his head, trying to speak, he still cannot.
Ackbar nods to Friday, who drops the man. INSURGENT #4 gasps
on the ground, trying to catch his breath. He looks up at
the barrel of the revolver.
                       INSURGENT #4
The caves...
Ackbar smiles thinly.
Many thanks...and many apologies.
BANG! Ackbar silences the insurgent for good.
He looks up at Friday, tears welling up in his eyes.
Allah have mercy on me.
Pearson and the other soldiers run from building to
building, firing at INSURGENTS on all sides. They can hear
fighting from another alleyway but cannot see.
An insurgent appears in the distance, flung high into the
air. His body SPASMS as he is hit with rifle fire.
Blood mists from his chest as he finishes his lazy arc
towards the ground.
Push to our brothers! To the left!
The soldiers gather behind a small hut. Bullet holes and
gashes riddle their bodies and faces.


They're everywhere, sooner or
later they'll get lucky and we'll
be just like Delahunt.
Then go out there and surrender,
see how well you're treated. Give
me your rifle, I will cover you.
Get across that clearing and find
the others. I will follow.
Pearson jumps forth from the cover, FIRING WILDLY in an arc.
Carson and Mathis sprint with all their speed. They reach
another alleyway, where the other soldiers fight.
Pearson steps out to join them, but is greeted by the sight
of a TANK rolling around the corner. The mighty cannon
BOOMS. A shell EXPLODES right next to where Pearson just
He lies on his back, startled, his reflexes barely saving
Another cannon shell SMASHES the ground between him and his
men. Dust and debris go flying.
Mathis yells from across the way.
Get your ass down! We'll take care
of this, find the girl!
Pearson nods and sprints back towards the center of camp
behind cover. Towards the large main building.
A dimly lit CORRIDOR with peeling paint and flickering
fluorescent lights. There are cracks and bullet holes in the
The ground is shrouded in shadows.
Bzz. A flicker casts light on a smear of BRIGHT RED BLOOD
covering the wall.
Back to darkness.
BZZ! A brighter flicker shows a BODY. Barely a body. Chest
flayed open, tatters of flesh clinging to the red skeleton.
Meat and blood litter the hallway.


The light dies again. Silence.
Still dead silence.
Two more BODIES, ripped apart. Blood everywhere.
Another dimly lit hallway. A scuttling movement at the end
of it, barely visible.
Closer. A figure on his haunches stoops over a prone figure.
Killian. FRESH BLOOD covers his face and mouth, contrasting
against his pallid skin.
He licks his fingers, covered in blood as well. He appears
dissatisfied. He mutters to himself feverishly.
Old. Stale. Bullshit. Not like the
He gets up and ROARS, bestial. He kicks the prone man,
sending his ravaged carcass sliding down the corridor.
A slight HEARTBEAT. He perks his head up. He seems to sense
it, like a wolf tracking his prey. He whips his head around
and hustles down a flight of stairs.
Friday and Ackbar run through a series of small ROCK
TUNNELS. They turn a corner and encounter two INSURGENTS,
hurrying to the battle.
Friday hurtles forward, slashing one's throat with a swipe
of his claws before sending the other straight into the
ground with a clothesline in one graceful, brutal movement.
Both men are still, the only sound their last, choking
breaths. Ackbar hurries behind Friday as they continue to
Friday pauses at a fork in the path. He looks down to a
series of large STEEL DOORS with barred windows. Another
door marks the end of the passageway across from them.


Ackbar looks at him gratefully and they hustle towards the
My princess. I am coming.
They reach the first prison CELL, where two PRISONERS lay
prostrate in prayer.
My friends. We are here to free
you. First I must know if you have
seen my daughter? She is young
with large hazel eyes.
The prisoner looks up, he does not seem excited by the
prospect of freedom.
The girl? They took her to the
last cell I believe.
A thousand thanks, we shall return
for you.
The prisoner nods and returns to prayer. Friday seems
confused but follows Ackbar as he rushes to the final cell.
Past barred windows and gaunt faces.
They reach the door and Friday yanks it open with ease.
Aliya cries in the dark corner of a small and dank cell. She
hears the door open and tenses up. She is not expecting a
rescuer, only more torment.
She keeps her head down and continues to weep.
Slow footsteps. A GNARLED TALON caresses her head.
Friday and Ackbar stand in shock, looking at an EMPTY CELL.
Ackbar drops to his knees, full of despair.


Killian looms over her the young girl, bloody and
terrifying. His red stained fingers caressing her cheek,
leaving small trails of blood.
So young...so fresh.
He licks his lips revealing maroon stained teeth, jagged
CLICK! He freezes. SNARLS. He sounds less and less human by
the minute.
Pearson stands behind him, pistol cocked, aimed directly at
the back of his head.
Stand down, private.
I wasn't going to hurt her.
Killian raises his hands in surrender, a devilish smirk
still on his face.
In a flash his hand is behind his head, between the gun and
his vulnerable skull.
BLAM! The bullet sinks into Killian's closed fist but does
not penetrate.
Killian whips around, swinging the bloodstained MACHETE
towards Pearson's face.
Pearson's superhuman reflexes barely save him, he dodges,
the tip of the machete carving a swathe in his shoulder,
barely missing his neck.
Pearson aims a kick at Killian's ribcage, it backs him up
but does no other visible damage.
Killian swings again, Pearson ducks it, this time the force
of the strike lodges the machete into the wall. Killian lets
go of it.
Both are used to fighting slower, weaker enemies. Now the
two superhumans face each other.


Killian hunched over, hands out at his sides, claws
glistening. He grows like a caged beast, a snarl fixed on
his face. His eyes flooded with madness.
Opposite him stands Pearson, tall, stoic, proud. He raises
his hands in the classic boxer stance.
Killian ROARS, deafening, and lunges again.
Pearson grabs both of Killian's wrists, stopping the lethal
daggers on his fingertips from clawing into his chest.
Pearson headbutts him, Killian growls again, twisting his
body and smashing the side of Pearson's knee with his own.
Pearson's foundation falters and gives Killian the leverage
he needs to continue his spin, sending Pearson crashing into
a wall, almost landing on the girl, who cowers in the
Killian looms over Pearson.
Killian smashes his foot down hard on Pearson's chest.
Again, and again. He stomps on his face too, sending black
blood oozing down Pearson's face. The girl buries her face
in her hands, bawling.
No good deed goes unpunished huh?
The young girl makes a dash for it.

In a blur Killian turns, grabbing her by her hair. He SLAMS
her hard to the ground. Her head hits the ground first. She
is unconscious.
      (to himself)
Fast food...
Pearson leaps up, he kicks the wall, propelling himself

For the first time he uses his claws, slashing a long swathe
in Killian's chest, who moves out of the way a little too
That's it. Fight like the animal
you are! Like we all are.


I am nothing like you.
We're all monsters now, corporal,
I just embraced it.
This time Pearson is the first to attack. He lunges forward
but stops short. A feint.
Killian falls into the trap. He leaps forward to meet
Pearson but flies over him as Pearson ducks. He lands on his
feet and skids to a halt but Pearson is on him.
He has a vice grip on Killian, clinging onto his back. His
arms wrapped around Killian's neck, hands on his face.
Pearson strains with might as he tries to jar Killian's neck
loose. Killian growls, flailing like a wounded beast. His
claws slash up and down the sides of Pearson's face, but he
is unmoved.
Finally with a great effort Killian's neck gives, with a
spine chilling CRUNCH!
Killian falls, writhing on the ground, unable to control his
Pearson picks up his weapon.
BLAM! He silences his ex-comrade.
May god have mercy...
Killian is still.
Pearson walks over to the unconcious girl. He rolls her over
and sees an unfamiliar face.
It is not Aliya.
Ackbar returns to the first cell, where the prisoners still
pray. He points the pistol through the bars.
You lie! Where is she?! Or the
only thing you will be free of is
the burden of life.


The prisoner looks up, sneering.
She must have been next on the
menu. They like the young ones.
That I am thankful for.
What are you saying?!
You are not the only one that has
made a pact with the devil. I hope
you said your goodbyes.
Aliya stands shaking in a small stone chamber. A young,
dirty boy is beside her. A small metal door is behind them.
In front of them, an opening. The walls are caked with dried
There are cages on each side down the hallway. Ferocious
GROWLS and BARKS echo forth.
What is happening?
                       ARAB BOY
We're next.
The Warlord sits at his desk in an ornate war room. He holds
a remote, his finger twitching on the red ignition. He is
surrounded by ARMED GUARDS. Omar SLAMS his fist down on the
It may be too late! They are at
the walls! Hit the button! Release
                       THE WARLORD
Once they are out, I cannot
promise I can put them back in.


We have no choice!
The Warlord sighs, and presses a button on the remote.
A KLAXON SOUNDS. Aliya and the Arab Boy jump at the sound.
Red lights go off outside the doors.
The metal door beside them opens.
So do the cages.
Out prowl three MONSTROUS BEASTS from the cages. They look
like Mastiffs without tails. Only their glowing eyes stand
out against the flashes of red light.
They are hulking, slobbering. Their skin is peeled and
decayed, just like the soldiers.
There is animal madness in their eyes and dried blood
covering their fangs.
They see dinner. It's been too long.
Aliya and the Arab Boy run as the beats pounce towards them.
Aliya barely escapes the massive claws of the beasts as one
rips through her shirt. The other boy is not so lucky.
Aliya sprints out the side door. She runs down the hallways,
the two beasts chasing her.
She reaches a dead end. She turns, crying, shivering in
One of the beasts leaps, but stops in midair. It is SLAMMED
to the ground.
From the shadows steps Pearson, who holds it by the leg. He
jams the machete through the beasts skull with a quickness.
The other beast turns. Nothing interferes with its dinner.
Pearson hears a GROWLING from behind him. The other beast,
dripping with blood, blocks his exit.
He is surrounded in the narrow corridor.


Mathis and Carson huddle behind the rubble of what was once
a structure. The tank continues firing massive shells,
blasting walls and sending debris flying.
We won't have any cover pretty
soon. We gotta do something.
Do what? We can't flank it, those
shells will tear us to shreds.
Run for it.
Retreat? To where?
I ain't talkin about retreatin'
The tank?
Mathis nods. A shell comes SCREAMING in. It barely misses
them and SMASHES into a building behind them.
Run for it.
You first.
They both bump fists.
In an instant they are both out in the open, sprinting at
full speed towards the tank. The cannon lowers.
BOOM! It fires.
The shell hits Carson, riping his arm off of his body. The
force of the shot sends him spinning towards the ground,
black blood EXPLODES from the socket.
In one graceful motion, belying his size, he puts his
remaining hand down and is upright again, still sprinting.
Mathis is ahead by a good margin. BOOM! The cannon fires


Slow motion. Mathis leaps impossibly high, the shell
WHIZZING underneath him, barely missing. Mathis lands with a
roll, leaping as soon as he finishes his rotation.
He soars through the air, arms spread wide, landing on the
base of the tank. He wraps his arm around the barrel of the
His face gritting with determination he pulls downward on
it, bending the barrel until it SNAPS!
The tank begins to reverse, but Carson LANDS HARD on the
base of the tank, denting it.
Mathis and Carson clamber to the top of the moving tank.
Mathis RIPS the hatch right off the hinges.
Carson grabs the open hole and RIPS a large chunk of metal
off it, widening the gash in the armor.
They are greeted by GUNFIRE.
Carson jumps down, landing on a firing insurgent, CRUSHING
his spine instantly. Mathis lands next to him, grabbing the
driver and tossing him behind the tank.
The tank, unmanned but slowing down from inertia CRUSHES the
man like he was nothing.
The tank CRASHES into a building, the roof caving in on top
of the tank. It comes to a halt.
Carson is livid.
Make a run for it huh?! Are you
fucking kidding me?
God damn! That was some gangster
shit you pulled.
My fucking arm...really? That was
Hell yeah. You my nigga.


Yeah? Well your my n-
Don't push it.
Mathis reaches out to pound Carson's hand. Realizing he has
the wrong hand, he sheepishly switches.
They clamber out of the ruined TANK.
They climb out of the tank to see Rothstein, McCaffery,
Campbell staring at them.
Who taught you how to drive? You
almost hit us!
Carson climbs out.
The hell is everyone? We should be
gettin our asses lit up in the
open like this.
They're retreating. To that
fortified structure on the ridge.
That's gotta be where their leader
Sarge and the Doc?
Things grow solemn again, McCaffery shakes his head.
The girl either.
The thought that their fearless leader is gone is too much
to speak.
If we're alive, he's gotta be.
That sonofabitch would be the last
man standing even at the
apocalypse. That's for real.
Silence for a few moments.
Let's ride!


The soldiers offer their own howls and calls as they hurtle
towards the large stone fortification, set near the base of
the mountain, away from the cave entrance.
Ackbar and Friday return to the fork where they saw the
prison cells. They take the other path.
They turn the corner to see two large steel doors. Heavily
Keep low, and keep your gun drawn,
I don't know what's going to be on
the other side of this door.
I will protect you.
Friday scoffs.
Ackbar ducks behind a small rock outcropping, AK-47 held
Friday runs full speed into the door, slamming it with his
shoulder. The door buckles but does not break.
Friday takes a few steps back and slams into it again and
the door flies off of its hinges, flattening the waiting
INSURGENTS behind it.
Pearson slowly turns. He holds the machete in one hand, and
pulls a pistol from his waistband with the other.
The beasts leap. Pearson fires. The bullet misses and PINGS
off a wall.
The beast closes its jaws onto his arm, sending the pistol
spinning towards the dead end.
The other beast is at his back, claws digging into him. He
turns and drops onto his back, slamming the beast on his
back to the ground, sandwiching it.
He takes the machete and STABS IT INTO HIS OWN CHEST. The
blade goes right through, into the head of the beast.


The largest of the beasts has his arm pinned, the machete
still in his chest.
He tries to beat it off with his other arm, but the beast is
unfazed. It opens its mouth. Its wicked, iron jaws close on
Pearson's skull. He grimaces as his skull is almost crushed
under their force.
BAM! The jaws stop closing. The beast lays dead. With a
monumental effort Pearson pushes it off of him.
He looks to Aliya, hands trembling, holding the smoking
Friday and Ackbar are looking down a short, well-lit
hallway. Crates of supplies line the walls
The sounds of GUNFIRE are distant. The sound of VOICES
getting closer.
Friday pulls Ackbar behind the cover of a pile of crates as
a group of INSURGENTS run past them, down the connecting
They are shouting to each other in Arabic. Their shouts
become quieter as they are out of sight.
They say that the devils are at
the walls. They said they must
protect The Warlord.
Friday smiles.
So my men are still alive. Stay
back, we'll follow them right to
this motherless fuck's doorstep.
They round the corner just in time to see the final
Insurgent climb a stone staircase.
The Warlord mutters a quick prayer. It is muffled, but
doesn't sound like Arabic.
CRASH! The door flings forth like a discus. The Warlord
barely ducks. The men behind him are not so lucky. CRASH!


The door carries them out through the large window with it.
They hurtle towards the ground.
Friday and the other guards fire at each other. The Warlord
bolts towards a door and down a staircase, followed by two
Friday fires in a sweeping arc. He gets laced with bullets
as he tries to find cover.
A bullet BUZZES by his ear, slicing through the tip of it.
RINGING drowns out the sound of battle.
Another bullet hits him squarely in the cheek. Too close. He
dives for cover behind the desk.
The Warlord tosses something aside as he hurtles down the
Friday's hearing returns. Dead silence. He looks one way
around the desk and sees the dead soldiers.
He jumps up and sees Ackbar lying on his back. BLOOD SOAKS
through his white shirt.
Friday rushes over to him. He kneels over the gasping man.
Ackbar looks up, his body riddled with bullets, contorted.
His eyes focus on Friday weakly.
I am finally free of this
Ackbar grips Friday's uniform with surprising strength.


Leave me. Do not let him escape.
Finish your mission. Get back to
your family. Save Aliya. Remember
your promise to me.
I will, Doc.
They grip hands, until Ackbar's grip slackens. He no longer
SLAUGHTER. Annihilation. Dozens of dead INSURGENTS lie on
the rooftops as the soldiers finish off the scattered
Below them is a helipad with a green MILITARY CHOPPER on it,
hidden from the outside by the immense stronghold.
They see three FIGURES scurrying from a doorway in the L
shaped building towards the helicopter.
The scattered insurgents still fight, and Campbell and
Mathis duck behind cover.
Campbell points to the three figures running. The Warlord is
protected by the other two.
That's our boy! I'm gonna kill
that bitch!
You kill him and the truth about
us goes with him.
Then let's get down there and make
him squeal!
The Soldiers all sprint, leaping off the building.
It's too late. The chopper's blades are moving and it is
lifting off of the ground, it is high in the air as they
The helicopter pulls away, kicking up a wide ring of dust.


Friday leaps, incredibly far even for the inhuman soldiers,
out of the smashed window of the War Room. He seems to fly
through the air as the helicopter rises farther.
Wooo! I told ya! Didn't I fuckin
tell ya!?
Friday grabs onto one of the landing struts with a clawed
hand, his momentum bringing his feet towards the bottom of
the helicopter.
He kicks powerfully with both feet, RIPPING a hole in the
bottom of the chopper, which starts to list.
Using his momentum from the kick, Friday flips through the
open door of the helicopter and onto the deck where The
Warlord stands stunned with one of his bodygaurds, the other
struggling to control the helicopter.
Friday sends one of The Warlord's bodyguards flying with a
Before he can bring his pistol to bear Friday grabs The
Warlord, shaking him hard, sending his weapon hurtling to
the ground below.
Friday holds him out the door, The Warlord is gripped with
fear as he dangles above his compound, the chopper still
listing, flying in a circle.
The Warlord's turban flies off in the wind.

The tanned face of BRASKOW greets him. Friday's jaw slacks
Please. I-I'm so sorry.
What the fuck have you done to


Friday shakes him hard. The shock wears off. Time for some
Gavin. Please. You-you wouldn't
let me pay you back. I just wanted
to help. You wanted to be a
soldier forever.
Not like this! You think you can
just treat people like your little
fucking guinea pigs?!
I had no idea this would happen.
I-I thought I had killed you. I
thought I could get rid of the
evidence, the witnesses. Then I
saw what it did to them. To you.
I'm so sorry. Please. Have mercy.
You can't kill me.
Friday lets go, catching him again just before he falls. The
chopper is spinning out of control.
Why are you kidnapping innocent
The hunger. The blood. It's in
them. It's in you. God help me
it's in me.
What hunger?! You better have some
answers you twisted fuck!
Braskow smiles grimly.
You can't kill me. Pull me back
up. I'll tell you everything.
Friday begins to pull a relieved Braskow into the chopper.
With a SUDDEN JERK Friday sends Braskow skyward. STRAIGHT

The chopper jerks as it slashes Braskow, his blood raining


The soldiers all stand in awe as the Helicopter spins
wildly. CRASH! It impacts a building with an immense
explosion as its fuel tank ignites, lighting up the sky. The
soldiers all cry out and run towards it.
In the wreckage, amongst the flames stands Friday, his
greyish skin charred and blackened.
He looks towards the sky, but does not find answers there
Friday strides out of the flaming wreckage as the other
soldiers approach, he flexes his hands.
The soldiers stand in awe as he gazes upon them. The
battle-scarred hero, the invincible warrior.
What the hell are you all looking
Carson runs up, gripping Friday in a bear hug.
Jesus Christ it's good to see you
Put me down.
Friday shoves Carson off of him with a powerful thrust.
He eyes down his men with restrained respect. In his eyes
are also sorrow, disapointment.
Well what did he say? I hope you
made that motherfucker squeal.
Friday looks back at the wrecked chopper. A lone shadow of a
corpse rests next to it.
Light from the flames highlights the gushing red blood.
What to do, tell them the country they've been fighting for
experimented on them?


He didn't give me any answers. Our
mission was a failure. We were too
late to save the girl.
A low booming voice startles them all.
Always one step ahead, sir.
The soldiers turn. Pearson stands behind them, bloodied and
scarred. He holds Aliya.
                       PEARSON (CONT'D)
Her father?
The words sink into the soldiers. The one who awoke them,
who welcomed them back into their second lives was gone.
We will bring him back to base
with us. He died honorably,
fighting to protect friends and
family. He deserves a soldier's
Friday looks around at his men. Haggard. Large gaping wounds
reveal bleached bones. Limbs and digits missing or mangled.
      (to himself)
Dead. No burial is necessary.
Friday looks to the claw marks that etch Pearson's face. No
more needs to be said. He nods.
Friday and Pearson stare at each other, a mutual respect and
Gather supplies. Get what you can.
I have a feeling our journey isn't
over yet.
The soldiers disperse.
Friday looks back towards the chopper.


The body is gone.
Friday walks over to the wreckage. The ground illuminated by
the orange light from the flames.
He can see a large pool of blood, and a long trail around
the corner.
He looks up to see Braskow, face and chest divided in two by
a long gash, CHARGING towards him.
BAM! Braskow punches him, sending Friday flying through the
Braskow's eyes are yellow like Friday's. His veins popping
out of his skin. His muscles bulging.
We all make mistakes. I made one
by leaving you alive. You made one
by killing me. I won't make mine
Braskow kicks the prone Friday, sending him soaring into the
side of the downed helicopter.
He strikes it with a CLANG! His body denting it. He looks
No help in sight.
He gets up, flames obscuring his vision.
Like a bat out of hell, Braskow leaps in, SLAMMING Friday
against the wall of the chopper.
Braskow RIPS the metal wall, peeling it like an orange. He
pulls the strip across Friday's chest, pinning his left arm
to his side.
He holds the metal restraint with one hand, in the other a
jagged shard of chopper blade, curved to a deadly point.
In a FLASH he tries to SPEAR Friday's skull. Friday's hand
meets him and stops it.
The point inches from entering Friday's eyeball.
You really think you can kill me?


I thought I had once before. I'll
make sure to finish the job this
Friday smiles.
Just wanted to make sure your old
bones were up to it.
Friday's leg, pants ripped exposing his METAL KNEE peeking
through the dead skin, FLASHES upward.
It meets Braskow's chest with a soft THUD. Braskow's ribcage
collapses. Blood spurts from the fresh wound.
Braskow staggers back, dropping the shard.
Friday, quick as lightning, picks it up and snaps it into
two smaller, more wicked shards.
He jams them both deep into Braskow's open gash, right down
the middle of his body.
Friday crosses his arms, Braskow's body splits in half as
the shards pull him apart like plyers.
Braskow's flayed skeleton stands still for a moment before
falling with a dull, wet, THUD.
So I was wrong all these years.
You do have a backbone.
The sound of CHOPPERS.
The choppers land and Pakistani soldiers rush out to greet
the Americans, guns drawn.
Friday is hit by bright lights. In the glow of the flaming
compound he can see the symbol of the Pakistani army
emblazoned on the side of the choppers.
A loudspeaker SHOUTS orders in Arabic.
Friday holds his hands in the air and drops to his knees.
A crowd gathers around the Pakistani base as the SOLDIERS
are hustled out by PEACEKEEPERS wearing the blue helmets of



Members of the crowd hold cameras and take pictures.
The soldiers are led into a waiting US helicopter.
We're really goin home huh sarge?
Home. I almost forgot what that
word meant.
Medics wait aboard the helicopter as the soldiers are
hurried in.
The medics look puzzled.
      (to FRIDAY)
Jesus Christ, what happened to
That's what you're gonna figure
We'll get you back home soon.
Everyone's been looking for you
for months. They'll just be glad
to have you back.
Friday smiles openly.
The soldiers fill the seats of the small airplane. Even
though there are plenty of extra seats they all sit together
at the front.
Hard to believe huh?


That it's over, or that it
It ain't over yet.
Have faith. They say they can cure
us, we'll be just like we were.
This will be nothing but a dark
Adjust back to society. It's
amazing, I've never wanted to be
average so badly in all my life.
Does that mean the legacy of Gavin
Friday is coming to a close?
I just want my family. I'm done
killing. One of the closest things
to a friend I've ever had is gone.
He doesn't get to come back. He
saved us, but they say he's the
enemy. They train you to think in
black and white and paint with
red, but things ain't that simple
in the real world. Family. That's
the only thing that makes sense
Pearson nods knowingly, letting Friday marinate on his
thoughts. Friday clutches the folded piece of paper in his
hands as if his life was tucked in it.
Besides, who else would I play
chess with?
Friday looks back at Carson and Campbell. Campbell is
holding a mad lib book and laughing riotously as Carson
mimics a blowjob.
Friday and Pearson chuckle.
So what does the future hold for


Family as well, my uncle is has a
congregation. I think I will help
him, speak on my experiences, pay
God back for blessing me with a
second chance.
So it's a blessing now? You had me
convinced we were cursed earlier.
God works in mysterious ways, one
cannot attempt to understand his
It was an honor to serve with you,
And an honor for me as well,
The airplane touches down, just before dusk. The orange
sunlight glares off of the exterior of the plane, just as
the sun disappears behind the horizon, covering the runway
in a deep shadow.
A quick, deep NIGHTFALL.
The plane touches down and taxis down the tarmac. They see a
lights at the end, near the ramps.
They get closer, the soldiers peer through the windows. It's
a group of people. Massive. Cameras, lights. They are
holding signs.
The welcome party.
Rothstein and Mathis bump fists. McCaffery hoots and pounds
his fist on the headrest of the seat in front of him.
Carson turns back, snarling.
The plane stops, they can hear cheering from outside.


Friday stands up, the soldiers freeze, those who are out of
their seats sit back down.
      (very serious)
Men. We have experienced things
that no man ever has before, and
that I wish on no man after us. We
lost friends, we lost brothers.
But I have gained you all as my
friends. You all as my brothers.
When you're back with your
families, your normal lives,
always remember that you have been
given a gift. You all have a
second chance. Whatever wrongs you
did in the past, right them.
And hopefully I'll never have to
see any of you ugly sons of
bitches again.
The soldiers all cheer now. Friday turns to exit the plane.
The hatch is open. The ROAR of the crowd deafening.
Friday steps out onto the staircase. A thick, steady rain
pours. The lights are blinding. He holds his hands over his
eyes to shield them.
When the glare dies down he sees it.
The welcome party.
PANDEMONIUM. Mobs on both sides, separated by a police line,
heading straight towards a series of black TOWNCARS.
The two sides are undulating like waves, trying to get at
each other. The police have their hands full.
On one side, the mob holds SIGNS.
They cheer for the battered sergeant, who looks even more
hulking and bestial compared to the normal people of the
On the other side are protestors roaring. They hold SIGNS as


Many crosses and religious icons adorn the members of this
crowd, though not all.
Policemen rush up to grab onto the stunned Friday pulling
him down the stairs, rushing him past the mobs, one
cheering, one booing, throwing debris at him.
Pearson follows him, also led by Policemen as the others
rush behind him.
In the crowd a BEARDED, DERANGED MAN crosses himself, his
eyes closed.
Pearson looks devastated that fellow followers of Christ
would damn him so.
Slow motion. The bearded man pulls forth a small silver
BANG! A bullet bursts from the gun. Blackness. SPLASH! A
rough circle. The other mob can be seen through it.
Turning back. Pearson drops to his knees. His eyes roll back
in his head, towards the heavens.
The SCENE ERUPTS. Policemen pounce on the man as he tries to
fire again, the bullet SLICING through the rainfall.
Friday turns to see Pearson's body hit the ground.
The wet thud sounds deafening, even over the roaring crowd.
His eyes widen, violently. He SCREAMS, he throws the
policemen off of him. Four more rush in to pin his arms,
forcing him towards the cars, away from the mob starting to
break through the police line.
He relents as he sees the rest of the soldiers under fire,
the mob swarming them, the police doing their best to keep
them at bay.
He turns, his world deaf, destroyed. He barely gives up a
fight as the police push him into the town car.
The town car speeds away as black vans roll up. Men in Riot
Gear leap out, descending upon the mob.


The Towncar speeds down the street. Police cruisers in front
and back, lights blaring. They swerve in and out of traffic.
Friday sits, pained. Too much pain for anger, too much pain
for sadness. He looks defeated, shut down.
The police escorts stare at him warily, afraid. Like he
might attack at any moment. Like a lion let out of its cage.
Friday looks down at the PICTURE still clutched in his hand.
      (a low growl)
113 Eversley.
The escorts turn to look at each other.
Take me to the 113 Eversley Way.
Our orders were to take you
straight to...
Friday loses it. He SMASHES his hands through the partition,
grabbing on to the neck of the driver.
The town car swerves slightly before jerking back into
place. The tailing cop car is forced to swerve out of the
A tense scene. The driver sweats profusely, massive claws on
his neck. He continues to drive the best he can, his
expression unadulterated fear.
The other policemen are tense. They freeze as Friday glares
at them.
We're not gonna be going anywhere
except a concrete slab if you
don't take me where I want to go.


                       FRIDAY (cont'd)
I've survived a freefall crash
from 500 feet, I'll be just fine.
I don't think I could say the same
for you.
The policemen look dumbfounded for a beat.
                       FRIDAY (CONT'D)
Do I look like a guy who fucks
A pause.
Wh-where did you want to go?
The Towncar makes an extremely sharp right turn, leaving
trailing police car unable to follow as it blows by the
The Towncar winds down a quaint, tree lined road. A cop car
passes them as they pull up. The Towncar SCREECHES to a halt
outside of a white ranch house. Friday jars the door open,
almost ripping it off of the hinges. He races into the
You can't go in there!
Friday shakes them off and lopes onto the lawn.
Margaret and Jack sit in the back of a POLICE CAR. Margaret
looks out the back window to see Friday exit the car. She is
hysterically crying.
Stop! Stop! Just let me talk to
him! I don't care what he looks
like he's my husband god dammit!


                       POLICE DRIVER
I'm sorry ma'am this is for your
own safety. We will bring you
right back once he exits the
Gavin enters the house. All the lights are off. It is
pristine. He runs through the rooms, looking for someone.
He flips the lights on the in the kitchen. He looks towards
the refrigerator. There is a child's picture of two figures
held up by magnets. It looks remarkably similar to Aliya's
artwork. There is only a bigger woman and a smaller boy in
the drawing.
A mother and a son.
No father.
      (to himself)
They didn't wait...
The police escorts enter the house. Friday does not put up a
Friday looks towards the trash can. He sighs and crumples up
the picture.
The town car pulls up to a large medical building. The lobby
lights are the only ones on, the rest of the building is in
darkness. Three other town cars are already parked.
A team of Doctors rushes out to greet them. The Policemen
exit first, followed by a slumping, sullen Friday.
He walks through the doors. He is in a daze. Sleepwalking.
The Doctors hurry him into a large, cold, EXAMINATION ROOM.
He follows like he is being pulled by the strings, his mind


and body disconnected. His world upside down even more than
We're going to give you a sedative
for the procedure. Nice and quick.
Friday barely nods.
They roll up the sleeves on his ceremonial uniform. The
needle touches the skin.
INSERT: The dungeon. Gas masks. The needle.
The clear liquid enters his bloodstream. His eyes flutter.

Friday opens his eyes. Bright fluorescent lights. He is on a
medical bed. This is all too familiar.
He looks to his left. Carson, Campbell, Rothstein. All in
the same beds. Their hands restrained by leather straps
covered by thick chains.
Friday tries to move. He is weak. His eyes blurry.
Deja vu.
A man in a gas mask stands in front of them.
The lights are dimmed.
The man removes his mask. It is COLONEL LIONEL RIVERS.
Figures stand behind him in the shadows.
Wake them.
DOCTORS in gas masks move amongst the men, connecting IVs to
needles in the Soldier's arms. They begin to rouse,
drearily, lazily. Their eyes struggle to focus.
Attention Soldiers. It is with no
pleasure that I stand here before
you today. You are among the


                       RIVERS (cont'd)
bravest men to ever serve in the
United States Armed forces. To
battle through the adversity you
faced, and still complete your
He pauses, his tone changing from admiring to melancholy.
Unfortunately, it is the actions
of others that have brought you
here. Major Braskow was always
power hungry, and had been
developing a chemical agent he
thought would increase a soldier's
combat ability. He requested
testing, but the potential side
effects were too dangerous. Major
Braskow decided to do the tests
US SOLDIERS in gas masks and full gear patrol The Compound.
                       RIVERS (V.O)
The United Nations did you no
favors bringing you back, as much
as we tried to stop them. They did
not know what we know.
A door to a large main building opens. Three soldiers carry
a strecher from the darkness. In it is one of the beasts.
                       RIVERS (V.O)
What you are. What you will
Close up on the face. It is not animal, but human. The
wickedly mutated face of one of the Arab men sitting beside
Ackbar on the train.
We could not let a plight like
yours affect the United States
soil, as much as me honor and
value your efforts. We thought it
prudent to give you one last
chance to say goodbye, as


                       RIVERS (cont'd)
With that the shadowy figures from behind Braskow step
forward. YOUNG SOLDIERS holding rifles, one for every
Soldier chained to a bed.
Friday and his Soldier's eyes are wide, knowing. Their
bodies unresponsive.
A few futile jerks, CLINKING the chains is all the
resistance they can muster.
Rivers salutes.
Thank you for your service, your
contributions will not be
In unison the Young Soldier's raise their rifles. A few
tense moments pass.
Sweat beads on a Young Soldier's eyebrow, his hands
With a roar that should have been impossible considering his
weakened state, Friday breaks the silence.
BULLETS FLY, pounding the men in the chest, shaking their
Ripping through their chests, black blood spilling onto the
floor as shell casings litter the floor.
Margaret drinks a cup of coffee, watching as Aliya and Jack
finger paint on the table. She looks nervous, jittery. The
Television is on in the other room. She can see it through
the doorway. A newscaster solemnly reports. There is a knock
on the door. She goes to answer it.