Page 1, A script/screenplay for a mobster movie. More will be added as it is written.
Downtown New York City
22nd October, 2007
Parish Corner Store
Jack Potts, an older man of around 50 years of age, accompanied by two men dressed in dark black, walk calmly into Parish Corner Store, where the owner; Derek Parish, stands behind the counter talking to his wife, Larissa.
Jack approached the counter while his two accomplices look around the shop; one eats some food off a shelf, the other grabs a beer from the fridge.
It’s that time again, Parish.
Derek whispers in Larissa’s ear. Larissa quickly proceeds behind a curtain located behind the counter, where she ushers her two young children, a boy and a girl, upstairs to their apartment.
Derek proceeds over to the cash register and withdraws some bills from it, totaling to three hundred and fifty dollars. Derek passes the money over to Jack who counts it quickly.
You know, Parish, when I ask for five hundred dollars a fortnight, not a very big amount, but when I do ask for it, I expect to receive the five hundred dollars.
I-I’m sorry, Jack. Business has been slow this week. Not much money coming in.
Jack’s two accomplices approach the front counter from behind Jack.
Did I ask for excuses, Parish? Did I?
One of Jack’s thugs, Ridello, a big bulky man, smashes a stand containing snacks and lollies to the ground.
Answer him, faggot!
No, Jack. You didn’t ask for excuses.
As Jack puts the money in his jacket pocket, a silver gun is seen holstered on the inside of his jacket. At its sight, Derek flinches. Ridello slowly makes his way behind the counter and approaches Derek, while the second thug goes to the front door and locks it.
You need to be shown what happens when you fall through for a business partner, Derek.
Ridello pushes Derek forward into the front counter, his ribs cracking as he does so. Derek wails in agony as Ridello smashes Derek’s face onto the counter and holds out Derek’s right arm, his fingers spread across the counter.
Give me your knife, Gore.
The second thug, Gore, walks over and gives Jack his pocket knife. Jack takes it and then flicks it open. He holds the knife over Derek’s fingers.
I’m sorry about this, Derek, really I am.
P-Please! Don’t do it!
Jack stabs the knife into the center of Derek’s hand. Derek screams as blood is spilled over the counter. Ridello continues to hold Derek against the counter as Jack makes a deep cut into Derek’s index finger.
Larissa comes down the stairs and sees what is happening, and quickly retreats upstairs, picking up the phone and dialing 911.
911, what is your emergency?
There are men robbing our store…
Back downstairs, Jack finishes severing Derek’s index finger. Ridello releases Derek who slumps to the floor in pain. Gore continues looking out the front door, while Jack wipes the blood off the knife.
Next fortnight, I want one thousand, Derek, do you understand?
Derek continues whimpering, clutching his bleeding hand.
He asked you a question, motherfucker!
Jack smiles, nodding towards the door as Gore and Ridello exit the corner shop.
See you around, Derek. You might want to put some ice on that.
Jack, Gore and Ridello get inside a large black humvee and drive off down the street, Jack’s cackling being heard all the while.
New York Police Department
23rd October, 2007
Officer Nicholas Harp, a young man of 23, is sitting at his desk taking 911 calls. After finishing a call, he places his head on the desk and closes his eyes. Unlike most of the other cops in the station, Harp is wearing regular clothing. Dark jeans with a brown button-up shirt and a leather jacket. His partner, Luke Davies, comes over with a smile on his face. He too, wears other clothing – jeans, white shirt and brown jacket.
Harp, get your ass up, we’re doing street today.
Fuck street. You’re likely to get shot while you getting shot.
Well, life’s a bitch. C’mon.
The pair leave the station and start walking down the street.
You ever feel like no matter what you do, nothing changes?
What’s with this philosophy shit, Nick? You been hitting the bottle again?
I’m sober. Two months now. You?
Cleaner than Dettol. I don’t do drugs anymore, Nick. I’m clean and living healthy.
Davies reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. He lights it and inhales deeply. As Davies exhales he smiles.
Yeah, real healthy, Luke. That shit kills you. Haven’t you seen the commercials?
No, actually. It seems very time they come on TV I have a spontaneous spasm in my arm holding the remote which forces me to change the channel. I think I might need to see a doctor about that.
Yeah, you do that. While you’re at it get him to scrap the tar that’s solidified in your lungs, will ya?
Davies looks down at his cigarette and feels disgusted. He flicks the cigarette away.
You already ruined porn for me, why you gotta ruin this?
Shut up. Car thief three o’clock.
Have you heard of this thing called police brutality?
Never heard of it.
The pair laugh and bolt across the street where a man is trying to unlock a Mazda MX-5 with a bent coat hanger.
The thief sees the pair, drops the coat hanger and runs away, down the street. Harp and Davies give chase, rushing through the crowd. The thief turns a corner and runs down an alley. Harp and Davies follow.
What is it with crooks and alleys?
I think that they think there’s some sort of magical escape route down it…
The thief comes to the brick side of a building and stops. He hits his hands against the wall in frustration.
…when all they find is a dead end.
Harp and Davies approach the man who pulls out a small blade from his pocket. He holds it out in front of him, trying to ward the pair off. Davies and Harp look scared and take a few steps back, shaking quite a lot. They turn and look at each other and laugh.
What are you gonna do with that? File our nails?
C’mon! Try something, pig!
Davies walks forward and with one quick motion grabs the thief’s arm and twists it around. The thief screams as his wrist breaks. As Davies strips the knife from the thief’s hand, Harp walks up and pulls out the thief’s wallet from his jacket pocket. He opens it up and has a look inside.
Jimmy Teller. Age 26. Wallet contains…one hundred and two dollars. Strike that, wallet contained one hundred and two dollars.
Harp pockets the money and puts the wallet back in the pocket of Jimmy.
What’s wrong with a life of working for money, Jimmy?
What? You just took my money!
Davies looks over to Harp with a confused look on his face.
What’s he talking about, Nick?
I haven’t the slightest, Luke.
Davies punches Jimmy hard in the stomach. Jimmy falls to the ground and Davies kicks him in the stomach while Harp kicks his sides hard. After several more assaults, Jimmy is bloody and bruised. Harp and Davies pick him up and drag him off.
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