Metropolis

FADE IN:

EXT. MANHATTAN - MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

Freezing wind shutters through the shadows. Relentless

darkness. No sign of life, save for --

The SOUND of determined footsteps.

INT. HIGH RISE APARTMENT BUILDING - LOBBY - CONTINUOUS

The doorman at his post flipping through a magazine, rap

music pounding from his radio.

Glass suddenly shatters as a gloved hand punches through

the window, reaching in, unlocking the front door.

Two men in dark suits blur inside. The doorman rushes to

stop them, only --

DEX, the taller of the two men, slams the barrel of his

gun into the doorman's throat.

DEX:

Life can be an illusion.

(low and deadly)

Sometimes we see what isn't there,

and sometimes we don't see what is

there.

The doorman, wide eyed with terror, nods his consent.

Dex removes the gun.

Doorman plants himself in the chair, eyes glued to his

magazine, making it clear he doesn't 'see' the men as they

stroll into --

INT. ELEVATOR - CONTINUOUS

Old fashioned steel box struggling its way up the shaft.

Fluorescent yellow light stabbing through the grating.

INT. HALLWAY - MOMENT LATER

Dex slaps a small plastic strip on an apartment door as

both men turn away, shielding their eyes.

A blinding flash of light as the door is blown apart.

INT. APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS

The men rush inside and straight into --

INT. BEDROOM

Candles flicker on the dresser. A syringe on the bedside

table, next to a sleeping figure curled up under the

sheets.

Both men starting to pull guns, but --

DEX:

This one's personal.

Dex's partner shrugs, holsters his weapon and steps back

through the doorway, watching as --

Dex spins and fires.

Not the traditional booming gunfire, but rather the

strange sound of electronic hissing as laser-fire rips the

person to shreds.

Dex finally stops firing and moves to the bed to verify

the kill, only on close inspection he sees it's not a

person.

He's just blown the hell out of a MANNEQUIN.

Dex smiles, blows out the candle and heads out of the

room.

CUT TO:

INT. CHURCH - DUSK

A lone PRIEST lights the sacrament candles, the sound of

his breathing reverberating through the empty church.

He suddenly stops, snaps his head around --

A man in a wheelchair stares at him from the doorway.

The man is CHRISTOPH. Dark robes shroud his shriveled,

decaying body but his eyes still burn with life.

CHRISTOPH:

(raspy voice which

labors to be heard)

May I trouble you with a confession?

Even in the flickering half-light of the candles, the

Priest can see that Christoph is dying.

PRIEST:

Never a trouble.

The large statue of Jesus over the alter staring down as

the Priest leads Christoph into --

INT. CONFESSIONAL BOOTH

Christoph's voice is weak, knowing each word could be the

last.

CHRISTOPH:

Forgive me Father, for I have

coveted.

PRIEST:

What have you coveted?

CHRISTOPH:

(anguished whisper)

Life.

A small smile of compassion escapes across the Priest's

lips.

PRIEST:

God gave us all the need for life.

And when the end begins to near, we

all crave more time. No sin.

CHRISTOPH:

(hesitantly)

But there's what I would do for more

time.

PRIEST:

What would you do --

A sharp hissing sound --

The laser burns through the confessional wall and straight

through the priest's chest.

Face frozen in a listening pose as the body crumples to

death.

Christoph slowly lowers his weapon with a look of genuine

contrition.

EXT. MANHATTAN - HELL'S KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

It's the near future and the neighborhood is covered with

graffiti scrawled in machine code and billboards

projecting holographs advertising malt liquor and

pleasure-dipped cigarettes.

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