POINT BREAK by James Cameron & Kathryn ... - Whoa is (Not)

can't go on.
Reagan reaches the top of the fence. He looks back.
UTAH HAS THE BERETTA POINTED RIGHT AT HIM.
Twenty feet away. The muzzle rock-steady. He can't miss.
They both are frozen, panting. Locked into the moment.
REAGAN
You want me, there's only one way.
PAPPAS reaches the top of the hill, 200 feet away, panting
like he's about to collapse. He sees the tableau.
ECU -- UTAH'S FINGER on the trigger. Tightening.
RACK TO his eyes. Blinking, water running into them.
God, he wants to.
ECU -- REAGAN'S EYES, through the mask. Locked with
Utah's.
UTAH suddenly snaps his hand up and FIRES VERTICALLY.
HE HOWLS WITH RAGE, FRUSTRATION AND PAIN.
FIRES AGAIN. And AGAIN.
Slumping back, his shoulders slam down onto the concrete.
Straight-arming the Beretta he FIRES RAPIDLY...
Bulleting the blue sky.
HIGH ANGLE, looking straight down on the tableau.
Reagan leaps off the fence and runs OUT OF FRAME, as Utah
empties the magazine straight at us, the shots merging
with his agonized howl, echoing as we--
INT. FBI BUILDING - BULLPEN - NIGHT
CUT TO:
UTAH sits next to the DISPATCHER waiting for news like a
sailor in a storm. His leg is popped up on a chair with
jeans split to the thigh and an ace bandage wrapped around
his knee.
His face is a nasty patchwork of scratches and bruises.
He drains his coffee and gazes out at the empty bullpen.
PAPPAS comes through the doors, wiping the remains of
dinner off his mouth.
Nothing?
Nothing.
PAPPAS
UTAH
The Dispatcher talks into his headset, glances up at
Pappas, shakes his head.
PAPPAS
Go home, kid. Get the hell outta
here. Get some sleep. You look
like shit. They get anything even
resembles your guy, I'm on your
beeper. Here. You like feta?