THIRTEEN GHOSTS - Daily Script
THIRTEEN GHOSTS - Daily Script
THIRTEEN GHOSTS - Daily Script
Create successful ePaper yourself
Turn your PDF publications into a flip-book with our unique Google optimized e-Paper software.
3 EXT. ROLLS-ROYCE 3<br />
The rear door opens, and CYRUS KRITICOS, 50s, wealthy,<br />
immaculately dressed, not a hair out of place, steps out.<br />
His hand rests on a shiny, silver-headed cane. He<br />
surveys the flares, shakes his head.<br />
CYRUS<br />
Their little crusade is wearing<br />
thin.<br />
RAFKIN (O.S.)<br />
I'll give them this... they are<br />
consistent.<br />
Stepping out next is DENNIS RAFKIN, 20s, unshaven,<br />
jittery. He holds his head in his hands, massaging his<br />
temples, obviously in pain.<br />
(NOTE: Whenever we cut to Rafkin we hear/sense a<br />
piercing tone, underscoring the psychic waves he's<br />
receiving.)<br />
Cyrus produces a thin, brown designer cigarette from a<br />
silver case. Taps it as he speaks.<br />
CYRUS<br />
As cancer...<br />
(lights his cigarette)<br />
Never bet against human nature,<br />
Dennis. You'll always lose.<br />
Behind him, Rafkin suddenly lurches forward, racked by<br />
spasms. Cyrus turns, with slight concern --<br />
CYRUS<br />
Is it bad tonight?<br />
RAFKIN<br />
(coughing, shaking)<br />
Bad is one way of describing it,<br />
but somehow...<br />
(wiping his sweaty<br />
forehead)<br />
... insane seems more appropriate.<br />
Rafkin doubles over in pain. Dry heaves.<br />
RAFKIN<br />
(recovering)<br />
It's my professional opinion that<br />
we get the hell out of here. Now.<br />
Two of Cyrus's team, dressed in assault gear, make their<br />
way over.<br />
2.<br />
(CONTINUED)