Assassins Page #2

Finally, Ketcham begins to just cry. Nothing left to say.

A man in mourning for himself. But Rath is not

unaffected, not without his own peculiar version of mercy.

Keeping the .22 steady, an inch behind Ketcham's head,

Rath reaches into his jacket. He pulls out a second,

nearly identical silenced .22. Ketcham looks down,

curious as the clip drops into the mud at his feet.

Rath, ready to fire at any sign of trouble, gently eases

the gun into Ketcham's hand. Ketcham looks down, smiles.

It's his gun, his dignity.

KETCHAM:

Hello, old friend.

(hefts it; knows)

One in the chamber.

Slowly, so Rath can see, Ketcham raises the .22, sets the

tip of the silencer against the side of his head. He

squints at the sun, the last thing he'll ever see.

KETCHAM:

Last few years I've been looking

for a sunrise. Maybe a sunset's

better.

(a beat)

Thanks, Rath.

The sun disappears over the horizon. Ketcham squeezes

the trigger. The SILENCER WHISPERS and he crumples,

begins to sink into the mud.

Rath lowers his gun. He takes a deep breath and lets it

out slowly, standing alone in the middle of nowhere. We

TILT DOWN TO an EXTREME CLOSEUP of blood in the water.

INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY (LATE AFTERNOON)

Rath closes the curtains. There is a makeshift office on

the desk. A cell phone is connected to a lap-top computer.

The prompt flashes expectantly.

On the coffee table, we see the dismantled .22, spread

clean on a white towel.

Rath stands at a window looking out at the city. He

leans forward until his forehead rests against the window.

He closes his eyes, enjoying the cool of the glass.

A beat. Then he looks to the street below. For just an

instant, he's wondering what it would be like to fall.

Breaking from his reverie, Rath steps to the desk.

He sits, regards the computer with loathing, then types

in a long access code sequence. He waits.

After a few moments, a line of dialogue appears. Rath

is communicating with someone... The Contractor.

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