Blade Page #7

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SMASH!!! Out goes Quinn, taking half the wall with him. Blade rushes

to the decimated window, looks down --

BLADE'S POV

Quinn lands on the roof of an ambulance parked four stories below,

caving it in. He springs off, loping across the tarmac on three

limbs, then -SCREECH!-THWUMP!- rolling up onto the hood of an

oncoming car, before disappearing into the night --

BACK UP ABOVE,

Blade spins, SEES Karen bleeding her life away on the floor. She

reaches a hand out to him, beseeching --

Blade pulls away from her grasp, takes a step towards the exit --

then hesitates.

A flicker of doubt washes across Blade's face. He looks down at Karen

once more, wrestling with his conscience, finally making a decision.

He kneels, scoops Karen up into his arms. Just then,

TWO POLICEMEN:

rush into the morgue, weapons drawn --

UNIFORM #1

Hold it, ass-hole!

Blade ignores them, turning to face the window before him. It's a

good thirty feet to the roof of the adjacent building, a parking

structure -- and damned if Blade doesn't seem to be considering the

jump.

The Police close in, agitated. Blade crouches, switches Karen to a

one-handed grip --

UNIFORM #1

I said hold it!!!

-- and jumps.

EXT. HOSPITAL/ROOFTOP PARKING STRUCTURE - NIGHT

Blade clears the impossible distance -- almost. He snags the ledge of

the adjacent parking structure with his left hand even as Karen slips

from the grasp of his right --

-- a last-second save, his fingers clamping around her wrist, is all

that stands between Karen and street pizza. She SCREAMS anyway,

dangling below him --

Blade GRUNTS, swinging Karen like a pendulum, heaving her up and over

the ledge as if she were a sack of potatoes. She lands on her

shoulder, clutching it in pain --

Blade heaves himself up, crouching beside her.

KAREN:

(gasping)

My shoulder -- dislocated --

Blade places a hand on her shoulder, another around her elbow and

without any consideration to discomfort -CRACK!- brutally pops it

back in place. Karen SCREAMS again as he scoops her up once more and

heads for --

HIS '69 OLDSMOBILE 442,

which is parked nearby. Midnight-black. The definitive high-

performance heavy-metal muscle machine with an engine big enough to

power an Apollo rocket.

INT. BLADE'S OLDS - NIGHT

Blade sets Karen down in the passenger seat, climbs behind the wheel,

keys the ignition. The engine ROARS to life, belching fumes through

the dual exhaust. Blade floors it, burning serious rubber as the Olds

vanishes from sight.

BACK AT THE DEMOLISHED MORGUE WINDOW

as the two policemen stare numbly in open-mouthed astonishment.

CUT TO:

EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT

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