Lord of Illusions Page #5

NIX:

F*** you, Swann! F*** you!

Now the second piece, over his MOUTH.

NIX:

Sw�

He's silenced. The piece screws itself into-his head, like

the first. And now comes the third and final piece: over

the nose and into the ears. Again, it screws itself into

place.

Swann has done all he can. He retreats from Nix's body, as

it continues to convulse. We go from face to ashen face, as

each man and woman watches and waits. Why won't he die?

And now, at last the violence of Nix's death-throes

diminishes. Nix's body bends like a bow, arching off the

ground, and with one last, terrible spasm, he dies.

GIRL:

(quietly)

Is it finished?

SWANN:

It's finished.

INT. NIX'S HOUSE - PASSAGEWAY - DAY

The Cultists' faces slacken, as though some mental hold Nix

had upon them has disappeared. Then they start to retreat,

their confidence and courage gone.

Pimm steps into the Sanctum.

INT. NIX'S HOUSE - SANCTUM - DAY

The five assassins, including the Girl, stand around Nix's

body. Swann has his arm around the Girl.

PIMM:

Dead?

QUAID:

Dead.

PIMM:

What now?

SWANN:

We bury him so deep no one will

ever find him.

CUT TO:

EXT. NIX'S .HOUSE - WIDE SHOT - DUSK

The wind has died away. It's eerily calm. Butterfield

dashes towards camera, then halts.

HE LOOKS BACK, as Nix's killers load his huge, limp CORPSE

into the back of Murray Pimm's bus.

ON Butterfield. He watches, with a feral look on his face.

FADE OUT:

FADE IN:

EXT. LOS ANGELES - MONTAGE - DAY

The city looks magical in the spring light, its palms and

gleaming towers, its rivers of sun-baked traffic, evoking

some fantastical metropolis. This, for all its smog and

congestion, is a city of exoticism and enchantments.

ON SCREEN, the words: "LOS ANGELES - THIRTEEN YEARS LATER"

EXT. STARDUST HOTEL - DAY

The facade of this small HOTEL off Hollywood Boulevard needs

a lick of paint, and the neon sign is blinking fitfully, but

it has a certain charm.

INT. STARDUST HOTEL - LOBBY - DAY

A large deteriorating mural of Hollywoodland, depicting a

host of 50's movie stars, dominates the lobby.

At the front desk - with his back to us at present - stands

HARRY D'AMOUR. He is having difficulty getting the pretty

but vacant BLONDE at the reception desk to comprehend his

name.

BLONDE GIRL:

How'd you spell that again?

HARRY:

D.A.M.O.U.R. D'Amour. Harry

D'Amour.

BLONDE GIRL:

D'Amour.

HARRY:

Right.

BLONDE GIRL:

Isn't that French for something?

ON THE BELLBOY, approaching Harry from the front door.

BELLBOY:

Mister D'Amour?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes