Blade II Page #7
Another beat. Whistler doesn't stir. He's down for the
count. Blade pauses a moment, catching his breath as he
leans on Whistler's still form. He's exhausted.
BLADE:
Come on, Whistler.
He rises, heaving Whistler's body over his shoulder.
BLADE (CONT'D)
Let's go home.
Blade's battered Charger knifes through the snow-dusted urban
blight like a shadow. Boarded up businesses, tent cities,
doorways bombed with graffiti throwups -- wherever this
godforsaken Gomorrah is, it's definitely a notch down on the
misery scale from the city Blade used to call home.
Up ahead, the sprawl levels out, giving way to an ice-bound
harbor wreathed in fog.
INT. BLADE'S CHARGER - NIGHT
Blade drives on, inured to the sqaulor. He made peace with
the darkness a long time ago.
EXT. SHIPYARD - NIGHT
The Charger weaves its way through a maze of scrap metal and
rusty shipping containers, homing in on a sprawling warehouse
that's been cordoned off by cyclone fencing and razor wire.
Utlra-violent floodlights illuminate the area, while security
cameras keep a watchful eye.
INT. WAREHOUSE - INDUSTRIAL ELEVATOR - NIGHT
More UV lights flicker on. We're in a massive loading
elevator/platform which HUMS as it ascends, eventually
reaching its destination with a BOOMING CLANG. The doors at
the rear glide open. Blade guides the Charger out.
INT. SCUD'S WORKSHOP - NIGHT
Santa's workshop by way of Soldier of Fortune. Industrial
equipment is strewn everywhere. Mills, old furnaces, gutted
vehicles, an ad hoc surgical theater. We also notice the big
rig which Scud had been piloting. Because of various leaking
overhead pipes, the floor is slick with a sheen of water.
Blade kills his Charger, looking around as he climbs out.
BLADE:
Scud!
Blade's voice ECHOES throughout the cavernous room.
SCUD (O.S.)
Lock up your daughters, people --
ANGLE ON SCUD:
A handlebar moustached, weed-sucking stoner. Thrift-store
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"Blade II" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 23 Jun 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/blade_ii_652>.
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