Lord of Illusions

TITLE SEQUENCE:

As the credits run, we INTERCUT the following two sequences:

EXT. NEVADA DESERT - IDOLS - DAY

A SLOW DRIFT through a collection of crudely constructed,

surreal, six-foot tall "IDOLS." Like modern demons.

Grotesque. Disturbing. WE LAP DISSOLVE between details of

their twisted anatomies: headlamp eyes, bright metal claws,

broken glass teeth.

EXT. NEVADA ROADS - DESERT - DAY

Two vehicles, one a Volkswagen "bus" decorated with stylized

flames, the other a '66 Thunderbird, speeding along a series

of eerily empty desert roads, somewhere in a wilderness of

sand and heat.

END CREDITS.

CUT WIDE TO;

EXT. NEVADA DESERT - DAY

A violent WIND HOWLS around, but through the sand we-can just

make out a large, ominous building: the HOUSE of William

Nix. Its walls are white-washed and scrawled with GRAFFITI.

The "family" of IDOLS surrounds the doorway, guarding it. ON

SCREEN, the words: '"Nevada - Thirteen Years Ago"

EXT. NIX'S HOUSE - DAY

We're at the front door now, which stands open. Leaning

against the door-frame is a scrawny, wild-eyed YOUTH, about

sixteen. His name is BUTTERFIELD. He's got a brooding,

almost sultry look on his face. One of his eyes is black,

the other milky blue. He's whittling something with a

scalpel. Distantly, the sound of CAR ENGINES. Butterfield

narrows his eyes.

BUTTERFIELD'S P.O.V.

The Volkswagen "bus" and Thunderbird are approaching the

house.

BUTTERFIELD:

(softly)

Swann...?

He turns from the door. In his haste he drops the WOOD he's

whittling. He's been carving a DEATH'S HEAD.

INT. NIX'S HOUSE - ROOMS AND CORRIDORS - DAY

The house no longer serves any domestic function. It has

become the temple and dormitory of Nix's small apocalyptic

cult. As we go through the house with Butterfield we glimpse

a little of what life here is like.

The rooms are murky, and chaotic. The walls, PAINTED with

scenes of cities and landscapes BURNING, and creatures from

some unspeakable nightmare ATTACKING, RAPING, and DEVOURING

helpless humanity. The atmosphere is joyless, and

oppressive.

The passages become progressively darker as the boy makes his

way to the heart of the house. Only OIL LAMPS, set on the

floor, light these claustrophobic corridors.

BUTTERFIELD:

Master?

INT. NIX'S HOUSE - MEDITATION ROOM - DAY

A dozen CULTISTS sit cross-legged on the floor in front of

their leader, WILLIAM NIX. His black hair grows to his

shoulders. His eyes are deep and glittering, his voice

seductive. A terrifying yet charismatic presence.

All the Cultists - who are a cross-section of obsessives -

wear the same simple T-shirts, painted with the cult's SIGIL.

They watch Nix in adoration.

As Nix speaks, he juggles a FLAME, passing it from hand to

hand with casual ease...

NIX:

And the fire said to me: Nix, Nix,

you're my instrument. From now on,

you'll be called the Puritan...

CULTISTS:

(murmuring)

Puritan...

NIX You will find a few good men and women, and together,

together you will cleanse the world.

CULTISTS:

Yes...

Butterfield enters.

BUTTERFIELD:

Master?

Nix looks up.

BUTTERFIELD:

Swann's here.

Nix rises, smiling.

NIX:

(to Cultists)

We'll come back to this. Get about

your business.

As the Cultists disperse, Nix and Butterfield exit into

INT. NIX'S HOUSE - SANCTUM - DAY

A place of nightmares. Hanging from the middle of the ceiling

is another grotesque SCULPTURE, three times the bulk of a

large man, and made of metal, fly-blown animal parts and

knotted rope. It is vaguely cruciform, but its swaying,

creaking bulk is not even faintly Christian. It is a

perverse, sickening image, evoking insanity and agony.

From the shadows in the corner, we hear a young girl's soft

SOBBING.

NIX:

Hush...

Nix goes to the GIRL. She is twelve; beautiful, blonde, and

presently in a state of mortal fear. She sits, bound, in a

fetal position, her face soaked with SWEAT and TEARS, her

mouth BLOODIED, her cheek BRUISED.

NIX:

I said hush.

GIRL:

Please. Let me go.

From the opposite corner the SCREECH of Nix's pet BABOON.

Nix goes to it. The animal is large and lethal.

NIX:

(to Baboon)

What is it?

The Baboon pulls on its chain, staring at the Girl and baring

its teeth as it screeches.

NIX:

(to Girl)

I think he's in love.

He unshackles the Baboon. The animal pads toward the Girl,

trailing its chain.

GIRL:

Keep it away from me.

Nix catches hold of its chain. Holds it back. The Baboon

starts screeching again, scrabbling at the Girl, its NAILS

catching her arms and legs, drawing BLOOD.

GIRL:

Please... please...

Nix watches her terror dispassionately.

BUTTERFIELD:

(also watching, wide-eyed)

Want me to shoot Swann?

NIX:

You don't like him, do you?

BUTTERFIELD:

He wants your magic.

NIX:

Maybe. Go fetch him.

Butterfield exits. Nix advances on the Girl.

GIRL:

What are you going to do?

CUT TO:

EXT. NIX'S HOUSE - DESERT - DAY

The two vehicles come to a halt outside Nix's house.

From the Thunderbird steps PHILIP SWANN, a nineteen- year-old

with shoulder-length hair and brilliant blue eyes. He's not

conventionally handsome, but he's certainly striking.

From the passenger seat steps CASPAR QUAID, a black man,

studious and intense. From the bus emerges MURRAY PIMM,

skinny and jittery, and JENNIFER DESIDERIO, a woman with a

steely gaze.

SWANN:

(to all three)

Are we ready?

JENNIFER:

(cool)

Say the word.

PIMM:

(very nervous)

Look, maybe we should think this over.

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