1 TITLES 1
Instead, police tape comes INTO FOCUS, the seeminglymiles of it entangled on stacks of derelict cars thatfill the void. The tape dances before us, undulating toa macabre rhythm, floating on the nocturnal winds. We
An auto wrecking yard at midnight. Empty, yet occupied.
AMPLIFYING in with every second.
Instantly, we find ourselves caught in the glare ofheadlights, and we've just enough time to make out thesemi truck before it plows through the yard's chain linkgate, shattering it like so much glass, the truck headingdirectly AT CAMERA, running it over as if it weren'tthere.
BOOMING UP and OVER the fence, the yard is a veritablemaze of old, rusted cars, piled up helter skelter, frozenin time. Broken glass, mangled engine parts, garbage andlitter... along with hundreds of spent shell casings, arescattered in the dirt.
lighting up the middle of the graveyard.
3 EXT. ROLLS-ROYCE 3
The rear door opens, and CYRUS KRITICOS, 50s, wealthy,
immaculately dressed, not a hair out of place, steps out.
His hand rests on a shiny, silver-headed cane. He
surveys the flares, shakes his head.
I'll give them this... they are
Stepping out next is DENNIS RAFKIN, 20s, unshaven,
(lights his cigarette)
Dennis. You'll always lose.
Is it bad tonight?
Bad is one way of describing it,
(wiping his sweatyforehead)
Rafkin doubles over in pain. Dry heaves.
we get the hell out of here. Now.
THIRTEEN GHOSTS -Rev. 10/27/00 3.
with a large photo.
Rafkin's face as he turns with rage.
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