Deliver Us from Evil

(GUNS FIRING IN DISTANCE)

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

GRIGGS:
(OVER RADIO)

We're taking fire!

We're taking sustained fire!

(INDISTINCT CHATTER ON RADIO)

(GUNS FIRING)

(BULLETS RICOCHETING)

GRIGGS:
Watch your six!

Move it! Let's go!

SANTINO:
Give me

some cover fire!

GO, go!

GRIGGS:
Move out!

Let's go!

(FLARE FIRING)

(BIRDS CALLING)

(SOLDIER PANTING)

(BATS SCREECHING)

(LEAVES RUSTLING)

(GRUNTING)

Jimmy, go with him.

(SANTINO PANTING)

(SNIFFING)

(JIMMY COUGHING)

SANTINO:
F*ck.

JIMMY:
Jesus, what's that smell?

(GRUNTING)

JIMMY:
(WHISPERING) Oh, no.

(NORMAL VOICE) What is that?

What the f*ck is that?

What the... (SCREAMING)

Shit! (SCREAMING)

(SIRENS WAILING)

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

MAN:
Where is it?

OFFICER 1:
Garbage man found it

in the bottom of the dumpster.

It's over there now.

OFFICER 2:
Is that Sarchie?

OFFICER 1:
Yeah, him and Butler

were first on the scene.

Officer, if I could take that.

Officer, if I could

take that now, please.

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

(SIRENS WAILING IN DISTANCE)

(SIGHING)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER OVER RADIO)

What's that?

What? On your head.

It's a hat.

It's a Red Sox hat.

I love the Red Sox.

F*ck that. You don't

even watch baseball.

I love baseball.

Okay, name me one

player on the Red Sox.

Larry Bird.

Don't laugh. (BUTLER LAUGHING)

You think that's funny.

When a Yankee fan strings you up

by the balls for

wearing that hat,

I'm gonna be sitting there,

I'm gonna be

laughing my ass off.

Oh, come on, Sarchie, we

both know you don't laugh.

I'll be laughing

my fucking ass off.

WOMAN:
(OVER RADIO) Six-Adam,

respond to a 10-52 violent dispute.

1459, East 183rd Street,

apartment 2 King,

Burnside to Grand

Conk on the cross.

Six Spec Ops

Sergeant to Central K.

Go, Sergeant.

Run a name check on the 10-52.

Ten-four. Just a second.

What, you want a domestic call?

Oh, shit. Radar?

(BUTLER LAUGHING)

You know, when your

radar goes off,

you usually wind

up with stitches?

You're an adrenaline junkie,

and without my radar, you

don't get your fix. Okay?

You're right, and for

that, I am grateful.

WOMAN:
Six Special Ops,

the name of the 10-52

tenant is Jimmy Tratner.

Any warrants?

Tenant is 10-19.

What?

No warrants?

Could Sarchie's radar

be off tonight,

ladies and gentlemen?

Do you show a tenant occupation?

It says USMC.

Marine. Might think he's

still fighting the war.

Six Spec Ops, have Adam disregard.

We'll take the call.

Oorah! Let's go.

(CARS HONKING)

(SIRENS WAILING)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Police, open up.

What?

We gota call. Uh-huh.

Are you alone in there?

My wife.

We gotta see her.

(MUSIC PLAYING INSIDE)

Okay-

Maid's on vacation, huh?

RALPH:
Watch out for a dog.

Ma'am, are you all right?

Nothing happened. She's fine, see?

Now get the f*ck out!

(GASPS)

All right, put a shirt on.

Let's go.

You ain't locking me up, man.

You wanna go the hard way?

Put your hands behind

your back right now.

LUCINDA:
He just...

He just went crazy.

You shut up! (GROANING)

Shit!

Mommy?

Sweetie, stay right there.

Everything's gonna be... Aah!

(BOTH GRUNTING)

RALPH:
Butler!

I'm good.

(TIRES SCREECHING)

(JIMMY GRUNTING)

(JIMMY GRUNTING)

Do you like to beat

your wife and kid? Huh?

Next time you think about doing

that, you think of me, okay?

BUTLER:
Come on, come on,

that's enough.

Come on, that's enough. He's a

veteran, for Christ's sakes.

(JIMMY PANTING)

(JIMMY GROANING)

(PANTING)

BUTLER:
Stitches.

Told you, Radar-Man.

(CLOCK TICKING)

(SIGHING)

(GROANING)

(GRUNTING)

(CHAIN JINGLING)

(MUSIC PLAYING IN BAR)

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

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