Point Break Page #3

CUT TO:

EXT. FEDERAL BUILDING

Looking down the face of the concrete monolith at Wilshire

and Veteran. Ant-like, Johnny Utah's tiny figure moves

toward the entrance.

VOICE (OVER)

Day One in LA, special agent Utah.

You may have been top two percent of

your class at Quantico but you have

exactly zero hours in the field

here. You know nothing...

INT. FEDERAL BUILDING - FBI BULLPEN

Supervising Agent BEN HARP leads Utah across the bullpen.

Rows of desks. Agents sitting at computer terminals.

Data hell. Looks like he got a job at Xerox.

HARP:

You know less than nothing. If you

even knew that you knew nothing, at

least that would be something, but

you don't.

UTAH:

Yes, sir.

Utah is wearing a suit, carrying a briefcase. Harp is

mid-thirties, confident of stride, tanned of skin, perfect

of hair. GQ. Aggressive.

HARP:

Eating solid breakfasts, Utah?

UTAH:

Sir?

HARP:

All the food groups? Avoiding

sugar? Caffeine? I see to it that

my people maintain cardiovascular

fitness. We stay off hard liquor,

cigarettes...

UTAH:

(poker face)

I take the skin off chicken.

Harp glances at him, eyes narrowing. They reach a

glassed-in compound of small offices. Harp swings the

door open and the other agents look up as Utah enters.

HARP:

This is us. Bank Robbery. And

you're in the bank-robbery capital

of the world--

UTAH:

1322 last year in LA county. Up 26

percent from the year before.

HARP:

That's right. And we nailed over a

thousand of them. We did it by

crunching data. Good crime-scene

work, good lab work, good data-base

analysis. Nobody had to tackle a

car once. You getting the signal,

special agent?

UTAH:

Zero distortion, sir.

He picks up a donut from someone's desk, a succulent

glazed jelly.

UTAH:

I love these things.

He looks right at Harp. Takes a big f***-you bite.

HARP:

You're a real blue-flame special,

aren't you, Utah? I don't know why

they sent you to LA. Must be an

a**hole shortage.

UTAH:

Not so far.

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