The Monster Squad Page #2

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KAZIGLU:

The Ruegermarka. You heed its call.

RUEGER:

As commanded… I'm Ch… Charles

Rueger.

KAZIGLU:

You know my face, Charles?

RUEGER:

I do.

KAZIGLU:

And you've prepared for my arrival.

RUEGER:

Yes, I h… have him. Somewhere safe.

The sound of approaching SIRENS can be heard in the distance.

Kaziglu moves to the lip of the ship's deck, taking in the

view of the city before him: sleepy lights, tucked into the

crescent of a Pacific Northwest mountain range. He smiles.

5.

RUEGER:

They're coming, Master… we should

go.

.

KAZIGLU:

Yes. For now.

The fog has begun to thin, revealing the devastated

waterfront. The full moon burns overhead.

CUT TO:

EXT. SEATONVILLE HIGHSCHOOL - DAY

Morning has risen over the laconic city's highschool: an

efficient, box-like brick and mortar structure, its lawn

carpeted in shed autumn leaves. In the distance, a plume of

thick smoke rips across the blue of the sky, the aftermath of

the waterfront carnage.

INT. SEATONVILLE HIGHSCHOOL - DAY

Two pairs of feet march quickly down an empty corridor:

modest blue pumps worn by a redheaded woman in her thirties,

MRS. GILMAN, and a pair of ratty black Converse sneakers worn

by LIAM CROSS, a sullen-faced boy of fourteen. Upon reaching

the principal's office, Mrs. Gilman indicates an empty SEAT

with a sharp gesture. Liam seats himself slouching.

Mrs. Gilman disappears into the office's main door. A beat.

When she emerges, it's with a worn-looking man with an

unkempt beard, a pie-bald-and-ponytail hairstyle, and a

flannel shirt... the school's resident guidance counselor,

MR. COMBS. He takes one look at Liam, and sighs.

CUT TO:

6.

INT. THE FEELINGS ROOM

A small classroom, done up in muted blues and browns.

Construction-paper letters spell out hokey words of

inspiration, scattered between motivational posters from the

late 1980's. One reads "WRAP YOUR ARMS AROUND THE WORLD."

Another reads "SHAME AND FEELINGS ARE NOT THE SAME THING."

Mr. Combs sits atop a stool at the front of the room,

speaking.

MR. COMBS

... all you hear from your peers,

your parents... particularly your

fathers, right? They say that it's

not cool to express how you feel,

that emotions aren't something to

be proud of. They say, "curl it up,

man. Don't resent me."

Liam slumps over at a desk, glassy-eyed.

MR. COMBS

Liam, you try to express yourself

artistically... and what do you get

told? That it's not "normal"

behavior. And it makes you want to

lash out. And I say... that's

valid.

Two seats to Liam's left is D'JUAN HOUSTON, age FIFTEEN, a

sharp-looking African-American kid. He taps his pencil, also

bored stiff.

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