INT. C-130 HERCULES TURBO-PROP - NIGHT
Eighteen combat-ready special forces, wearing assault black,
jump packs and combat gear, stare down the deep end of a
greasy ramp into the night sky. Village lights flicker 19,000
The STRIKE FORCE LEADER signals to his team.
Without a moment's hesitation, they dive into the darkness
and plummet toward earth.
EXT. MANSION - NIGHT
A military GUARD, old Soviet-style uniform, rounds the corner
of the large estate toting an AK-47.
A red laser dot appears briefly on his forehead and, after a
beat, the red dot seems to bleed. The Guard collapses dead.
Two other GUARDS are dispatched with single, silenced shots.
A Strike Team member at a junction box awaits a signal.
Through infra-red binoculars the strike Force Leader watches
his assault troops as they take positions.
STRIKE FORCE LEADER
On the estate - as the power goes out. The team on the
mansion's front porch pops the door and pours in.
INT. MANSION - NIGHT
FOLLOWING - the FIVE TEAM MEMBERS as they rush a stairway in
phalanx formation. They nearly knock over an old lady, who
in turn lets out a blood curdling scream.
UPSTAIRS CORRIDOR -
The team kicks open a door. Rushes into the room.
INT. BEDROOM -
Assault weapons pointed at the bed. The soldiers yank back
bedsheets to reveal IVAN STRAVANAVITCH, a middle-aged man
and his half-naked 18-year-old concubine.
Get up, now! Up!
The soldiers pull Stravanavitch to his feet and haul him out
of the room.
FOLLOWING - As they push down the hallway.
MANSION SECURITY GUARDS rally with haphazard gunfire.
Out come the strike force's flash-bang grenades. Exploding
everywhere, disorienting Stravanavitch's men.
EXT. FIELD - NIGHT
Signal flares burn as a helicopter descends on the position.
The Strike Team evacuates across the field and forces a
struggling Stravanavitch into the low-hovering copter.
The commandos swiftly board the craft as a handful of
Stravanavitch's guards break into the clearing. They open
And the mounted machine guns on the helicopter return.
One of the Strike Team members takes a bullet to the neck.
He's' pulled by his comrades into the chopper as it lifts
into the sky, its guns spitting lead...
STRIKE FORCE LEADER (V.0.)
Archangel, this is Restitution.
Archangel, this is Restitution. The package is wrapped.
VOICE (V.0. RADIO)
Roger, Restitution. We are standing
by for delivery.
FADE TO BLACK:
The SOUNDS of a dinner banquet.
Forks clanking against plates and
the din of a hundred conversations,