The Many Deaths of Barnaby James

by

Brian Nathanson
A black screen. A title card reads LIBERTY.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
They call it the “dead” of night.
But for some of us, it’s the only
time we truly feel alive.

EXT. MORTECITA SUBURBS - NIGHT

Midnight. Around the sleepy suburban neighborhood, even the

trees sag and rest for the night.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
The good people, the happy people --
they’re home, tucked in bed.

The streets are barren. No one walks down the sidewalk.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
The only evil they know is from
fairy tales. The monster, hiding in
the closet or under the bed.

EXT. STREETS OF MORTECITA - NIGHT

A few stores are still open for business, although they tend
to be low-rent bars and sketchy nightclubs.

With the rain and the lights of the bars, the night’s sky has
a strange purple hue to it, almost otherworldly in nature.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
I know evil. I’ve met monsters, or
at least, monstrous men.

The crowd passing through downtown looks sketchy -- and

downright scary at times. Part of that is by design. Some
FREAKY YOUTH wear punk and goth style, with severe makeup and
facial piercings.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
And let me tell you, the last thing
they’d want to do is waste their
whole night hiding under a bed.

A few puff on thin cigarettes, which produce smoke in a

variety of colors, as they pass by the clubs.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
The night’s the only time they get
to enjoy themselves.
 2.

One strip club stands out for its seediness.

THE POUND. The sign flickers in and out. Wooden boards cover
the windows. It’s the opposite of inviting.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
The only time when they can indulge
their carnal cravings.

INT. THE POUND - MAIN STAGE ROOM - BOOTH - NIGHT

Music blasts and lights flash on the face of --

LIBERTY. Liberty looks like a frightfully skinny man, with a

blue-green wig and a spiked tiara perched on top. We’ll refer
to Liberty as non-binary, with they/them pronouns.

LIBERTY
The only time I’m open for
business.

A half-buttoned shirt exposes every bone in their chest, as

well as a tattoo of the Statue of Liberty painted across.
This version has the statue holding up her middle finger
instead of a torch. Etched across their arms are the words
“Land of the Free,” and “Home of the Slave.”

LIBERTY
The sins I offer involve flesh.

Liberty sits at a cheap booth, tattered and felt, and talks

to CALLAHAN. Callahan’s a hulk of a man, but he doesn’t look
well. He fidgets. He twitches.

LIBERTY
But the question with flesh is...
Do you want to touch it?

Liberty strokes Callahan’s cheek tenderly.

LIBERTY
Or tear it?

Liberty peels up Callahan’s lip to find fierce sets of FANGS.

There are rows of them, stacked side by side like a shark.

Upon seeing that, Liberty flashes a twisted grin. Perfect.

LIBERTY
I knew I liked you for a reason...
(calling out)
Handmaiden!
 3.

Liberty’s HANDMAIDEN trots over. She’s a fresh-faced beauty,

trapped in a corset. Trapped in a job from hell. She bows
demurely to Liberty.

HANDMAIDEN
Yes, my liege?

LIBERTY
First of all, never wear open-toed
shoes in here again. Those smashed-
up sausage feet are scaring away
all my customers.

Around them: there are hardly any customers. There’s one

DEGENERATE, leering at the girls. One DRUNK, half passed out.

LIBERTY
And second of all, help me escort
our new friend downstairs.
(loaded)
He’s our newest VIP.

INT. THE POUND - MIRRORED HALLWAY - NIGHT

Liberty and the Handmaiden escort Callahan down a hallway.

The hall has several doors, including a set of bathrooms
marked with “Poles” and “Holes.”

At the end of the hallway, an OBESE STRIPPER leads a DIRTY

OLD MAN towards the back room for a private lap dance.

Liberty turns another direction: down a narrow hall, leading

straight to a brick wall. A dead end.

But for some reason, it’s guarded by an enormous bouncer.

MALACODA. He wears a fishnet shirt and a steel chain belt
that coils all the way down to the ground, dragging behind
him like a tail. The club’s guards are called TAILSMEN for
that reason.

LIBERTY
Step aside, Malacoda. We have
another special guest.

Malacoda steps away, leaving a hidden hatch exposed. He tugs

open the hatch to reveal a staircase leading downstairs.

INT. THE POUND - MALEBOLGE ROOM - NIGHT

Downstairs, the vibe of the Pound changes completely. As it

turns out, the dumpy strip club is merely a cover for the
most depraved VIP experience you’ll ever see.
 4.

A stone bridge runs across the room. Ten VIP booths are
sunken into the floor below, five on each side.

SERVICE GIRLS and SERVICE BOYS, both dressed in provocative

red leather, walk across the bridge and provide trays of
drinks to the patrons below them. Some of those SINNERS slam
back the drinks, others jam straws into their noses.

LIBERTY
The Malebolge Room is for my most
esteemed guests. The city’s most
elite assholes.

Callahan, still twitching, catches sight of a pair of well-

dressed POLITICIANS arguing over contracts. A Service Girl
and Service Boy satisfy them orally while they bicker.

LIBERTY
So dull, their desires. Dry powders
and wet pussies.

The end of the bridge runs square into a large double-locked

door. Liberty tosses a smile back to Callahan.

LIBERTY
Luckily for me, you’re delightfully
more disturbed than that.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - NIGHT

The music gets walled off as soon as Liberty closes the bulky
door behind them. They lead Callahan down a steep wooden
staircase to the darkened basement.

LIBERTY
This is where I store the meat.

Liberty flicks on the light switch. The lights come on

slowly, in stages.

The lights reveal dozens of fearful faces, PRISONERS, all

trapped in individual glass cases that stack on top of each
other like boxes to make up the walls of the basement.
They’re on display like action figures at Toys ‘R Us.

The sight of the prisoners only increases Callahan’s fervor.

His eyes turn a shade of yellow. His fangs descend even more.

Liberty walks by a case containing a SCARED TEENAGER, and

another with a RAGGEDY HOMELESS MAN. They stop at one housing
PLAY-THING, an especially mutilated woman. Her hair’s been
ripped out in chunks, and scars line every inch of her body.
 5.

LIBERTY
To think, this one used to be
pretty. Glamorous looking. She had
a gorgeous head of hair. One of my
clients -- a sicko, even by our
standards -- lit it on fire. Tried
to piss out the flames.

Liberty taps on Play-Thing’s glass cage. Play-Thing hisses

back, more animal than woman now.

LIBERTY
People like that’ll make a girl
lose her manners.

Callahan’s yellow eyes peer in at Play-Thing. Hungry.

LIBERTY
She’s reserved for someone else.
But let me show you a nice plump
brunette. Barely used.

Liberty makes their way across the room to that plump

BRUNETTE PRISONER, stacked high enough that Liberty has to
stand on their toes when they unlock the cage door.

LIBERTY
There you go, darling. Chase the
rabbit.

Callahan snarls with hunger as he stalks towards his prey.

The Brunette wisely stays put, pushing herself as far back
into her box as she can. Unfortunately, it’s not far enough.

Focus on Liberty, who watches the scene unfold.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
They call it the “dead” of night.

They can hear SCREAMING. TEARING. Horrible, tortured sounds.

LIBERTY
But for some of us...

More SCREAMS. More TEARS.

Blood SPLATTERS all over Liberty’s face. The reaction: not

disgust -- but ecstasy.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
It’s the only time we truly feel
alive.

FADE OUT.
 6.

A black screen. A title card reads BARNABY.

BARNABY (V.O.)
Nobody wants to be a corpse.

EXT. CHURCH OF ST. NICHOLAS - DUSK

BARNABY JAMES, 20, has his floppy black hair tucked under a
newsboy’s cap and a large bouquet of flowers tucked under his
arm. He’s thin and good looking, although a bit pale.

Between his collar bones is a strange marking. A series of

tiny pagan symbols, almost like a tattoo.

BARNABY (V.O.)
At the orphanage, they used to take
us to church every Sunday. The
preachers would talk about the
glory of Heaven and God’s embrace.

His icy blue eyes dance over the Church of St. Nicholas.

BARNABY (V.O.)
But like all of us, they were in no
hurry to see it for themselves.

EXT. CHURCH CEMETERY - DUSK

Barnaby strolls down the cobblestone path of the adjacent

cemetery. Instead of tombstones, memorial plaques rest in the
grass. Barnaby reads over each inscription as he walks by.
Either he’s paying respect -- or he’s searching for one.

BARNABY (V.O.)
Nobody wants to be a corpse.

He stops at one plaque. The inscription reads, “Music, the

greatest good that mortals know, and all of heaven that we
have below.” Bingo.

BARNABY (V.O.)
That’s why I don’t feel bad about
doing what Azlon asks.

After a look around to ensure that the cemetery’s empty,

Barnaby slides a small shovel out of the bouquet.

He slams the shovel into the grass. And starts to dig.

 7.

EXT. CHURCH OF ST. NICHOLAS - DUSK

A hearse rolls up the church driveway.

The driver’s side window rolls down, inch by inch, courtesy

of an old-fashioned hand crank.

Circular spectacles peer out, pinched on top of the nose of a

small Eastern European woman. DOKTOR HAUSLER. Whether she’s a
real doctor or not is a mystery, but she views the world
through cold and clinical lenses regardless.

And now, that trained eye is focused on Barnaby. He’s

unearthed mounds of dirt by now. He motions over to her.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
The boy’s done, sir.

Doktor Hausler exits the hearse and opens the back door.

A SHADOWY FIGURE slides out.

EXT. CHURCH CEMETERY - DUSK

The Shadowy Figure crosses through the cemetery. He wears a

long black coat and clutches onto a cane. It appears more of
a choice than a necessity. He’s a large and able-bodied man.
A menacing presence, even in silhouette.

Barnaby utilizes the shovel to crack open the wooden coffin,

whose rot has allowed worms to nibble holes in its side.

Barnaby pulls open the coffin cover to reveal a SINGER’S

CORPSE. The Corpse’s skin has rotted and sagged. A swarm of
larvae suckle on the leftover flesh. Despite the look and
smell, Barnaby doesn’t budge. He’s seen this all before.

The Shadowy Figure slaps Barnaby on the back.

SHADOWY FIGURE
Good work, Barnaby, m’boy. As
always.

The Shadowy Figure drags his cane along the Corpse. At the
cane’s end is a separate attachment, a WAND. About ten inches
long, the metallic wand has ancient writing and strange
swirling symbols chiseled in its sides.

The Shadowy Figure JAMS the wand into a specific spot between
the Corpse’s neck and chest. The wand sinks in, creating a
HISSING sound and a small PUFF of smoke.
 8.

The result leaves an imprint: a mark exactly the same as

Barnaby has himself.

A purple fluid bubbles up from the mark, spilling over to

wash all over the Corpse’s body. The Corpse’s decayed chest
begins to rise and fall, its heart starting to beat again.

As the fluid runs down the Corpse’s body, it burns off the
larvae, but enlivens the few patches of sagging skin. The
skin becomes liquid, spreading and stretching over the entire
body. When it cools, it returns to human flesh. The Corpse
plumps up, growing from the inside as well.

Barnaby watches, wide eyed. He might have seen this before,

but he’s never gotten used to this part.

Before long, the Corpse has fully transformed into a living

SINGER, albeit a confused one. The Singer’s eyes search
around frantically before they settle on the Shadowy Figure.

THE SINGER
Who... who...

The Shadowy Figure -- AZLON -- looms over the man. Azlon’s

eyes are rimmed in black. His faint purple eye shadow matches
the lining in his coat.

AZLON
I know what you’re thinking, but
I’m not God.

Azlon’s voice is deep, booming, dramatic. He says every word

as though he’s on stage, reciting Shakespeare.

AZLON
I’m greater than God. I give second
chances. And unlike God, I try not
to pry in silly subjects like the
state of your soul.

Azlon reaches out a hand, offering to help the Singer up.

AZLON
I’m simply interested in offering
you this -- a gig, for the night,
and maybe longer.

Azlon stares at him, with intensity. Doktor Hausler studies

him, with coldness.

But Barnaby looks at him, reassuringly. With soft, kind eyes.

As though everything will be all right.

More or less.
 9.

EXT. ABANDONED FIELDS - DIRT ROAD - DUSK

Doktor Hausler drives the hearse down a dirt road. She makes
a sharp turn, heading straight into decrepit fields.

EXT. ABANDONED FIELDS - DUSK

The tall fields smack against the hearse, which powers

through. The wheels track mud behind them.

EXT. BLACK TOP - DUSK

The hearse rolls to a stop next to several train cars and

wagons in a cleared out field. The empty area is about the
size of a football field, but it’s being filled quickly.

Dozens of laborers, known as ROUSTABOUTS, hang wires and

ropes to finish construction of the BLACK TOP. It’s a small
circus tent, predictably black.

The Roustabouts, all with the same mark on their chests, are
ghostly pale, with bags under their eyes. They look as if
they haven’t seen the sun in ages.

EXT. BLACK TOP - CENTER TENT - DUSK

Azlon and Doktor Hausler lead the Singer past the center tent
and towards some smaller ones tucked away in the back.

Barnaby hurries to help the Laborers rig up the Black Top.

They don’t have long before night fully sets in.

He catches up with his pal SUDSY, a chunky laborer around his

age. He takes a few boxes from Sudsy to lighten his load.

SUDSY
Hey, Barn. How’s the new guy look?

BARNABY
Scared. Confused.

SUDSY
Sounds like the usual.

BARNABY
Yeah. I just hope he pulls it
together by show time.

SUDSY
If he doesn’t, you’ll be back out
there digging up his replacement.
 10.

EXT. BLACK TOP - SUPPLY TENTS AND WAGONS - DUSK

Doktor Hausler leads the Singer through the Black Top staging
tents. She has a notepad in hand, ticking notes.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
You’ll be on stage in third
position...

The Singer can’t pay attention to the details. He’s too

mesmerized by the strange sights and sounds around him.

Aside from the Roustabouts, there are PERFORMERS preparing

for a show. A raggedy old CLOWN hikes on his patched-up
costume. A FIRE BREATHER practices, spewing flames.

There’s a sinister edge to all of them -- as though Death Row

inmates threw together a traveling show.

THE SINGER
Where... where the hell am I...?

DOKTOR HAUSLER
I’m sorry. I’m looking at our
schedule, and we don’t have time
for an existential crisis right
now. The show starts at midnight.
With you on stage third.

She tilts her head, testing him.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
But this isn’t servitude, mein
freund. This is an opportunity.
This is a choice. You can either
join our humble show. Or.
(cold)
You can re-join your grave.

THE SINGER
(stunned)
Third position sounds great...

EXT. BLACK TOP - CENTER TENT - NIGHT

Night time. Show time. The Roustabouts are nowhere in sight,

as the Black Top tent has been fully constructed.

A dozen TOWNERS, the few well-to-do members of the nearby

cities, line up at the tent opening. There’s a buzz about
them as they whisper amongst each other. They have no marks
on their chests. They’re still on their first life.
 11.

INT. BLACK TOP - CENTER TENT - NIGHT

The Towners settle onto folding chairs. When the last takes
his seat, the lights shut off, turning the tent pitch black.

The Towners wait. And wait. Until --

A single spotlight shines on Azlon’s face. The purple eye

shadow has been enhanced, caked over and under his eyes. He’s
abandoned his coat in favor of a tightly tailored suit.

Azlon takes a dramatic pause before raising a skinny

microphone to his lips. His showman voice is in full effect.

AZLON
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to
the Black Top. If you came here
expecting to be entertained, hurry
to the exits now.

Azlon strolls around the stage. The spotlight, the only light
in the tent, stays with him.

AZLON
For our job, on this evening, is to
not let you sit back and watch. You
do that enough already. Hours of
every day, you sit on your couch,
eat potato chips and watch lights
flicker on a small screen.

Azlon strolls directly towards the audience now.

AZLON
And then, in that rare instance
when you seek out activity... you
go sit in a theatre, eat popcorn
and watch lights flicker on a
slightly larger screen.

His speech speeds up. His intensity revs up.

AZLON
Our job, on this night, is to give
you something else. Something
different. We will engage you.
Enrage you. Amuse you, confuse
you...

Azlon stands at the edge of the stage, balancing on it.

 12.

AZLON
We will show you the pageantry of
life, the putridity of death, and
in between, a line so fine it would
vex even our most agile acrobat.

He leaps off the stage to get on the same level as the

audience members.

AZLON
Our only question to you is this --
do I have any volunteers?

A set of dim lights comes on over the audience.

No responses. No hands raised. They’re all frozen with fear.

Finally, a middle-aged WEALTHY MAN raises his hand.

AZLON
Ahh, a leader emerges to inspire us
all.

Azlon escorts the Wealthy Man up on the stage.

AZLON
Good sir, do tell us your name.

Azlon holds the microphone to the Wealthy Man’s lips.

WEALTHY MAN
Philli --

Before he can finish, Azlon reaches into his back pocket and
pulls out an antique Smith & Wesson pistol. He cocks it and
BLASTS THE MAN’S FACE OFF.

The Wealthy Man collapses in a bloody mess. The Towners gasp

and stand to get a look at him.

AZLON
Ladies and gentlemen, please settle
down -- he’s still squirming. Once
he stops, we’ll bring him back to
enjoy the rest of the show.

The Towners chatter amongst each other, half exhilarated,

half terrified. But no one dares to leave yet.

TOWARDS THE BACK

Barnaby watches the show through an opening in the curtain.

An arm grabs him by the collar and jerks him backwards.

 13.

OUTSIDE THE TENT

An AERIALIST rips Barnaby away. The Aerialist stands with the

other PERFORMERS, which include MUSICIANS, DANCING GIRLS, and
various others in Vaudevillian costume.

AERIALIST
Kinkers only. Get back with the
worker bees.

The Aerialist shoves Barnaby to the ground. Barnaby splashes

into the mud, earning snickers from all the Dancing Girls.

Barnaby springs to his feet. But he says nothing. He does

nothing. He simply heads to the Roustabouts’ tent.

EXT. BLACK TOP - ROUSTABOUTS’ TENT - NIGHT

Barnaby drudges back over to his own tent to lick his wounds.
But even his fellow Roustabouts mock him.

LEAD ROUSTABOUT
You look good when you’re all wet
and on all fours.

ANOTHER ROUSTABOUT
Maybe you do have some talent in
that arse after all.

Barnaby ignores their cackles, and sulks back over to Sudsy.

He takes off his shirt, ringing out the mud.

SUDSY
Don’t let ‘em get to you, Barn.
They’re a bunch of bullies.

BARNABY
It’s my fault. I shouldn’t
interrupt in the middle of a show.

SUDSY
Fudge that. You weren’t
interrupting anything. If anything,
I’m liable to teach that guy a
lesson and sock him in the mouth --

Sudsy considers the Aerialist and his cohorts.

SUDSY
Although... maybe not tonight. My
shoulder’s still sore from the
loading... and... my knee has --
 14.

BARNABY
Don’t worry, Suds. It’s not worth
causing trouble. And I’m not gonna
let them spoil my mood this week.

SUDSY
What’s so special about this week?

BARNABY
Think about it. We’re in Mortecita
right now.

Sudsy puts two and two together. And sighs.

SUDSY
Don’t tell me you’re gonna get
started on this again. I swear,
every year you --

BARNABY
Come to Mortecita. One time. One
time a year. And that means it’s my
only chance to --

SUDSY
Delilah’s dead.
(repeat)
She’s dead, Barn. She’s gone.

That stops Barnaby cold. The stinging truth.

BARNABY
She doesn’t have to be.

Frustrated, Sudsy exits the conversation. But Barnaby

persists, following after him.

BARNABY
I’ve thought it through. I’ve had a
whole year to think it through --

SUDSY
You’ve asked Azlon to bring her
back before and he said no. He’s
not gonna change his mind --

BARNABY
Maybe he will this time. I know
Azlon’s tough on us, but he’s a
reasonable man.

Sudsy huffs. Incredulous.

BARNABY
 15.

Delilah would be perfect for the

show. She’s even prettier than the
Meers Sisters. She’s like an angel,
walking the Earth.

SUDSY
I swear, every time we pass through
this damn city, you can’t stop
talking about her. You’re obsessed.

BARNABY
I’m in love. There’s a difference.

SUDSY
Not to Azlon.

Sudsy turns back to Barnaby, trying to show his sincerity.

SUDSY
Azlon likes you, Barn. But at the
end of the day, you’re still just a
grave boy. You’re replaceable.

He pokes at the mark on Barnaby’s chest for emphasis.

SUDSY
So please. Drop this. If not for
your sake, then for mine.
(aching)
I don’t wanna bury my best friend.

INT. BLACK TOP - CENTER TENT - NIGHT

The audience has cleared out after the night’s performance.

The only ones left are the Roustabouts, who clean up.

Sudsy helps fold chairs. Barnaby mops up blood.

EXT. BLACK TOP - DINING CAR - NIGHT

The Performers hang outside. Some smoke, while others filter

into the dining car for some drinks.

The MEERS SISTERS, twins EDITH and ENID, head for the dining
car. They’re both blond, caked in makeup, and wearing
matching ruffled dresses.

They’re cut off -- by Doktor Hausler.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
Azlon wants to see you. On stage.
 16.

The Sisters’ merry mood ends. This can’t be good news.

INT. BLACK TOP - CENTER TENT - NIGHT

Azlon paces on stage, troubled. The Meers Sisters approach

him, fake smiles on.

EDITH
You asked for us, sir? What an
honor!

ENID
And what a good show tonight!

AZLON
That’s precisely the problem. For
you, “good” is good enough.

Azlon stops pacing and turns towards the Sisters.

AZLON
The show has been suffering lately,
and I’ve solved it.
(beat)
You haven’t been practicing.

The Sisters steal a glance at each other. Busted.

AZLON
A performance is like a muscle.
Without use, it dies.

Azlon reaches into his coat and pulls out his pistol.

AZLON
And a noble performer goes down
with the ship.

EDITH
Azlon, please...

Azlon considers the frightened faces of the Sisters. He steps

towards Enid first.

AZLON
You’ve insulted this show and this
stage. Apologize.

ENID
I’m sorry, Azlon. I --
 17.

AZLON
To the stage. Apologize to the
stage.

Enid appears confused by the request, but she knows better

than to disobey. She looks down at the stage.

ENID
I’m sorry, stage. I’m so sorry.

Barnaby and the Roustabouts stop their work to steal a glance

towards the argument on stage.

AZLON
Act as if you mean it.

ENID
I’ll get better. My kicks, my
footwork, it’ll all get better --

AZLON
AS IF YOU MEAN IT!

Enid kneels down to talk to the stage. She whimpers and tears
up, though probably more from fear than remorse.

ENID
I apologize... I do... with all my
heart and all my soul!

AZLON
Your dancing was bad.
(beat)
Your acting was worse.

Azlon cocks his pistol.

Barnaby knows where this is going. He looks away. There’s a

BANG, and then the sound of a body dropping.

With her sister Enid dead on stage, Edith tries her best not
to cry. She looks back to Azlon, her hands shaking.

EDITH
Azlon... please...

AZLON
Stop your sniveling, m’dear.
(beat)
Your legs I like. And for that,
you’ve been granted the greatest
gift there is: time in my tent. So
would you like to join me?
 18.

Azlon presses his pistol under Edith’s chin.

AZLON
Or your sister?

EDITH
(weak smile)
It’d be an honor to join you, sir.

Barnaby and Sudsy watches the blood gather around Enid. A

stark reminder of Azlon’s wrath.

SUDSY
Good luck reasoning with him, Barn.

EXT. BLACK TOP - DINING CAR - NIGHT

All the Performers are in the dining car now, as fiddle music
pours out the windows.

INT. BLACK TOP - ROUSTABOUTS’ TENT - NIGHT

Crammed into a small tent, the Roustabouts settle down for

the night on wooden boards. They have generously been granted
flea-ridden blankets and pillows.

Sudsy stirs. The board next to him is empty.

EXT. BLACK TOP - AZLON’S TENT - NIGHT

Barnaby takes tentative steps towards Azlon’s tent. Unlike

the other tents, Azlon’s has a strong steel frame.

Barnaby can hear primal GRUNTS coming from inside.

INT. BLACK TOP - AZLON’S TENT - NIGHT

Azlon’s tent has luxuries, none more striking than his king-
sized bed, which dangles from the ceiling like a bird cage.
The bed swings back and forth, rocking the entire tent.

Barnaby takes off his cap as soon as he steps inside. His

shoes squash an old pomegranate. Several other half-eaten
pomegranates line the floor of the tent.

BARNABY
(timidly)
Azlon?
 19.

Azlon, wrestling under the sheets with Edith, throws another

pomegranate. It splatters at Barnaby’s feet.

AZLON
GO AWAY!

BARNABY
Sorry, sir.

AZLON
(recognizing the voice)
Barnaby?

A shirtless Azlon emerges from under the sheets.

AZLON
Barnaby, m’boy! Do come in.

Edith pops her head out, her hair mussed.

EDITH
Can’t you come back --

Azlon SHOVES Edith out of the elevated bed. She tumbles to

the ground and lands on her neck, CRACKING it on impact. The
shocked expression on her face stays there. She’s dead.

Barnaby freezes for a moment at the death. Azlon couldn’t

care less, as he drops down a rope ladder for the boy.

AZLON
Come up here, m’boy. I want to see
that sweet face.

Barnaby sidesteps Edith’s body and grabs hold of the ladder.

When he climbs up, the weight of the bed shifts, causing it
to rock back and forth once again.

ON THE BED

Azlon helps pull Barnaby up onto the bed.

AZLON
How can I help you tonight, m’boy?

BARNABY
It’s... it’s about Delilah.

Azlon grumbles. He picks up a pomegranate and chomps into it.

The juices and seeds spill down his chin.
 20.

AZLON
You’re a hard worker, m’boy, but a
dim bulb at best. We spoke about
this, at this time, last year.

BARNABY
I know, but I wanted to ask again,
sir. Delilah can help with the
costumes. Or work the rigs, or...

AZLON
Barnaby, if you’re looking for
lust, I can help. We’ll find you
anything from a dirty old man to a
suitable young girl, hardworking
and hairless, where it matters.

BARNABY
I loved Delilah, sir. I still do.

AZLON
(scoffing)
Love...

Azlon tosses out the half-eaten pomegranate and reaches over

to snare another. The sheets in his bed are stained with
pomegranate juice. Or, at least, what looks like it.

AZLON
Remember when we had that
children’s choir? Worked well, but
only until Christmas came.

Azlon mimics the children’s voices.

AZLON
“Azlon, can you deliver this letter
to Santa?” “Azlon, will the sleigh
know where the Black Top will be?”

Azlon pinches Barnaby’s cheek.

AZLON
Your problem, m’boy, is that you
died too young to realize that
love’s the same myth.

Barnaby wipes the pomegranate remnants off his cheek.

BARNABY
Yes, sir.

Barnaby hangs his head and shuffles to the rope ladder. When
Azlon catches sight of his disappointment, he softens.
 21.

AZLON
Barnaby, wait... I admire that
innocence. It’s your gift. Your
gift to us.

BARNABY
I don’t follow, sir.

AZLON
There are two types of gifts. One
you can learn and one you can lose.
Consider the corpse below us now.

Azlon shuffles over the bed to peer down at Edith’s body.

AZLON
I’ll bring her back because she has
a pair of qualities I quite enjoy
in a woman -- a twisting tongue and
no qualms about where to place it.

Barnaby looks down at Edith’s lifeless face. With both of

them leaning over, the bed tilts dramatically.

AZLON
No doubt a helpful father or uncle
trained her, at an age well before
she ought to know how.

Azlon turns back to Barnaby.

AZLON
That’s a talent you learn. Like the
Fiddler’s skill with a bow or a
blade. Like my showmanship on
stage. But yours, your pure heart,
your belief in true love -- that’s
something that we sad souls can
never acquire again.

BARNABY
It’s not something I’ll lose, sir.

AZLON
And that’s why you’re so special to
me. For you, I’d bring Delilah
back, if I could. But even I can’t.
I looked into the matter myself.

Azlon crawls closer to Barnaby. As he does, the bed shifts.

AZLON
Delilah died, shortly after you.
She drank a vial of poison.
(MORE)
 22.

AZLON (CONT'D)
She couldn’t bear being without
you, and I don’t blame her.

Azlon ruffles up Barnaby’s hair.

AZLON
But she was cremated. Her ashes
scattered into a thousand clumps.
I’d never be able to find them all.

Barnaby appears surprised by the story, but says nothing.

AZLON
Delilah’s gone for good, m’boy. The
Black Top’s all you have. But the
Black Top’s all you need.
(sincere)
We are your family now.

INT. BLACK TOP - ROUSTABOUTS’ TENT - NIGHT

Barnaby lies on his board, eyes awake. He’s still troubled.

BARNABY
He said Delilah was cremated. Her
ashes spread all over.

On the next board over, Sudsy whacks fleas away with a tree
branch. He tries to ignore Barnaby’s troubles.

SUDSY
Case closed. Unless you want to go
find every speck of her.

Barnaby slides closer to Sudsy in order to whisper.

BARNABY
Last year, Azlon said she was
buried at sea.
(meaning)
He’s lying. He’s hiding something.

SUDSY
Even still. There’s nothing you can
do about it.

Undeterred, Barnaby grabs Sudsy’s tree branch from him.

BARNABY
You’ve been into town, haven’t you?
To the files and records. She may
be listed on there...
 23.

SUDSY
Barnaby...

BARNABY
I just want to find out what
happened to her...

SUDSY
It’s been what, 60 years? 70?

BARNABY
83.

SUDSY
She’s dead. She’s gotta be dead.
Whether it was a poisoning or a
shipwreck or she simply keeled over
like old grannies do. She’s dead.

BARNABY
But if I find out how, and where...

SUDSY
Then what? Azlon would let you
bring her back? Fat chance.

BARNABY
At the very least, I’d know. I’d
get to take one last look at her.

SUDSY
You’d risk everything, all for one
look at her? Don’t you know how
dumb that sounds? Last time we had
a runaway, Azlon ripped out his
liver. On stage. Every night for a
month.

BARNABY
I remember. But if I have to pass
through this city again? Go another
year without her? That’s torture.

Sudsy whimpers to himself. He’s in a lose-lose situation

here. Paralyzed between his loyalty and his logic.

BARNABY
I know everyone here thinks I’m
dumb. But I’m not, Suds. I’m
smarter and more experienced than
the lot of you. ‘Cause I’ve been in
love. I’ve seen the best of the
world. And I can’t ignore that. I
can’t go back from that.
(MORE)
 24.

BARNABY (CONT'D)
(final)
I can’t leave her behind again.

Sudsy considers him. Long and hard. This time, he’ll err on
the side of his friend.

SUDSY
Fine. I’ll give you the damn
address.

EXT. BLACK TOP - ROUSTABOUTS’ TENT - NIGHT

Barnaby sneaks out of the tent. The Black Top’s quiet, aside
from that fiddle music in the dining car.

He looks to the fields behind the Black Top. He can make a

clean break for it.

Before he goes, he glances back to Azlon’s tent. It’s

unguarded. Maybe he can do something else.

INT. BLACK TOP - AZLON’S TENT - NIGHT

The sound of Azlon’s heavy snoring greets Barnaby as he

enters the tent. Barnaby notices the pool of blood on the
floor, but he sees no sign of Edith’s body itself.

Barnaby grabs hold of the rope ladder. As soon as he takes a

step onto it, the bed starts to tilt. He has to be careful.

THE BED

Azlon snores loudly. In his hand, he holds onto his cane. In

his arms, he spoons the body of Edith Meers. Only, she’s
still dead. Her eyes are open and her neck’s still cracked.

The bed dips as Barnaby climbs the ladder. Azlon grumbles in

his sleep and shifts.

Barnaby makes it to the bed top. He sees the cane in Azlon’s

hand. Carefully, he pries Azlon’s fingers off, one by one.

At the third finger, Azlon snorts and his eyes shoot open.
Barnaby ducks down, out of sight. Azlon drifts back asleep.

Barnaby works quickly now. He pulls the cane out and

unlatches the wand from its tip.

EXT. BLACK TOP - AZLON’S TENT - NIGHT

Barnaby tucks Azlon’s wand into his pants leg.

 25.

He heads for the fields. He tries to walk casually, but he

knows he has to hurry as well.

Doktor Hausler emerges from her tent.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
What are you doing?

Barnaby looks to Doktor Hausler, but makes a break for it. He

runs as quickly as he can towards the fields.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
STOP HIM! Stop that boy!

EXT. BLACK TOP - ROUSTABOUTS’ TENT - NIGHT

Sudsy sticks his head out of the tent when he overhears the
commotion. Other Roustabouts emerge as well.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
Stop that boy! He’s a runaway!

The Burly Roustabout starts after him, but Sudsy sticks a leg
in his way. The Burly Roustabout stumbles to the floor,
giving Barnaby a good head start.

EXT. BLACK TOP - FIELDS - NIGHT

Barnaby runs into the fields. The momentum causes his cap to
fly off. The Roustabouts chase after him, well behind.

INT. BLACK TOP - AZLON’S BED - NIGHT

The shouting outside causes Azlon’s eyes to flutter open.

He sits up, groggy. He looks to his hand, where he’s still

holding something. Only, it’s Sudsy’s tree branch.

EXT. BLACK TOP - AZLON’S TENT - NIGHT

Azlon hitches up his pants as he confers with Doktor Hausler.

AZLON
Our boy Barnaby, he’s a dim bulb at
best. He won’t last through the
night in a town like Mortecita.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
He won’t last an hour. I sent some
roustabouts to chase him down.
 26.

AZLON
Call them back. We don’t want our
men out in the open. Not when one
will do.
(beat)
Find the Fiddler.

INT. BLACK TOP - DINING CAR - NIGHT

The dining car at the Black Top looks similar to one found on
a train. The Performers bunch closely together as they dine
on small linen tables and drink, mostly bottles of absinthe.

Fiddle music fills the car. Refined, but haunting. More

Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique than Charlie Daniels.

THE FIDDLER sits alone at a table in the back of the room.

The other performers would rather cram two to a chair than
dare to join him. He concentrates on his tune, allowing his
oily, seaweed-like hair to fall in his face.

When the Fiddler finishes his song, the Performers clap.

After the applause dies down, the Fiddler starts again, on
the exact same tune.

The Aerialist rolls his eyes and murmurs to a Dancing Girl.

AERIALIST
Does he know anything else?

The Fiddler stops. His cold eyes glare up to the Aerialist.

When he stands, the entire car goes silent.

He approaches the Aerialist, with his bow in hand.

THE FIDDLER
I like playin’ me fiddle. Helps me
pass the time.

The Aerialist stays quiet and keeps his head down. The
Fiddler grabs a fist full of the Aerialist’s hair and jerks
his head up so that he can’t avoid eye contact.

THE FIDDLER
But if you got other means of
keeping me entertained...

The Fiddler clicks the bottom of his bow. Like a switchblade,

a knife springs out its side. A jagged blade.

THE FIDDLER
Do share ‘em.
 27.

The Fiddler’s bow gets dangerously close to the Aerialist’s

neck. Beads of sweat trickle down the man’s forehead.

DOKTOR HAUSLER (O.S.)

Fiddler...

Doktor Hausler stands at the entrance.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
No time for fun and games.
(loaded)
We have work for you.

EXT. BLACK TOP - DINING CAR - NIGHT

With his fiddle case slung over his back, the Fiddler listens
to Doktor Hausler. Or at least, barely. He doesn’t make eye
contact, choosing instead to lock his eyes on the ground.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
Azlon needs you to chase down a
runaway. A grave boy. Goes by the
name of Barnaby James.

Doktor Hausler can’t tell if the Fiddler is even listening.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
It’s urgent.

THE FIDDLER
Sounds awful important for a grave
boy. Just tell Azlon to slam ‘is
stick in the mud an’ conjure up
another.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
That’s the problem...
(quietly)
The boy has the stick.

The Fiddler immediately straightens up and looks to Doktor

Hausler. For him, this just got interesting.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
If this got out, we could have a
riot on our hands.

THE FIDDLER
A riot could be fun...
(considering)
But a hunt could be fun-er.

He grabs his fiddle case. He’s ready to get to work.

 28.

THE FIDDLER
I ain’t good with names or faces,
but I can find your boy. You want
‘im dead or alive? More fun for me
if I can kill ‘im.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
As long as you find Azlon’s wand, I
don’t see the difference.

The Fiddler smiles. A sick grin.

EXT. ABANDONED FIELDS - NIGHT

Barnaby races through the fields. He breathes heavily.

BARNABY (V.O.)
At the orphanage, they told us to
never lie, cheat, or steal.

The sharp grass cuts against him, but he doesn’t slow down.

BARNABY (V.O.)
But they also said to look after
each other. To look after the ones
you love.

EXT. ABANDONED FIELDS - DIRT ROAD - NIGHT

Barnaby emerges from the fields and comes upon the dirt road.

BARNABY (V.O.)
There’s no one that I love half as
much as Delilah.

He digs into his pant leg and pulls out Azlon’s wand. He
grips it tightly in his hand.

BARNABY (V.O.)
And she needs me, more than ever.

Lights flash on Barnaby’s face -- an oncoming car. He tries

to flag it down.

BARNABY (V.O.)
Nobody wants to be a corpse.

FADE OUT.
 29.

A black screen. A title card reads JAYCE.

JAYCE (V.O.)
I’m a romantic.

EXT. GRASSY MEADOW - DUSK

JAYCE, 30, is a modern day Don Juan. At least, in his head.

In reality, he’s more slimy than slick, as evidenced by the
sweat that typically coats his palms and forehead.

Tonight, he has a good excuse for the trickling beads of

sweat. He’s naked, and thrusting.

JAYCE (V.O.)
I’m a believer in courtly love.
Women should be put on a pedestal,
as holy objects.

He moans; his face contorts...

JAYCE (V.O.)
They should be treated as the
precious, fragile, tender beings
that they are.

Jayce rolls off and rests on the wet grass. He takes time to
catch his breath.

JAYCE (V.O.)
I would never pressure them to do
anything they aren’t comfortable
with. I’ll worship and respect them
as long as they live.

He finds his square-framed glasses and puts them back on. He

tosses a thankful smile to his partner.

His partner -- a FEMALE CORPSE. It’s only a few months old,

but it’s been dead long enough for its skin to start peeling
off and for worms to start crawling in the eye socket.

JAYCE (V.O.)
But when they die, all bets are
off.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - PARKING LOT - DUSK

Jayce, with his muddied clothes back on, treks across the
graveyard to the entrance gate. He approaches the night
security guard, the only one on duty.
 30.

JAYCE
Apologies for taking so long. I had
to say a few words to my
grandmother. A treasure of a woman.
See, she always --

The guard, DESMOND, in his 40s and sinfully ugly, isn’t

buying whatever Jayce is selling. Still, he couldn’t care
less. He barely glances over.

DESMOND
Dude... Whatever.

Desmond chews on a mouth full of raw tobacco, some of which

trickles down his chin when he talks.

DESMOND
They only pay me to make sure kids
don’t come out here to smoke dope.
You can dig up a body or bury one
for all I care.

JAYCE
I appreciate the indifference.

Jayce pulls out a money clip. He slips Desmond five dollars.

JAYCE
For the record though, I have a
girlfriend. Stunning. Absolutely
stunning.

DESMOND
I’m sure.

JAYCE
And religious, too! My grandmother
would adore that about her. And as
for myself, I don’t mind waiting. I
prefer it, to be honest, because --

DESMOND
Please go.

JAYCE
Right. Good to see you again!

Jayce awkwardly heads off. Desmond spits out a tobacco glob.

DESMOND
(under his breath)
Freak.
 31.

EXT. OASIS APARTMENTS - NIGHT

Jayce parks outside the Oasis, a towering apartment complex

that advertises itself as “A Little Piece of Paradise.”

INT. OASIS APARTMENTS - 8TH FLOOR HALLWAY - NIGHT

Cracks spread across the hallway ceiling like a spider’s web.

Droplets of water drip down onto the stained carpet below.
“Paradise” may be a stretch.

Jayce walks down the hallway. He catches sight of himself in

the mirror. He’s muddied. Sweaty. Twigs are in his hair.

He studies himself for a moment. He’s disgusted. He’s

embarrassed. And worse yet: he’s way too obvious.

He tugs off his still-muddy shirt. He kicks out of his muddy

pants. He’s left in his underwear.

He opens a nearby trash chute. He balls up the damaged

clothing and tosses them down the chute.

INT. OASIS APARTMENTS - APARTMENT 8M - NIGHT

Jayce enters his apartment.

He’s immediately met by -- JESUS. A decorative wooden replica

nailed to the wall. The corner of his apartment is a virtual
shrine, full of assorted Christian paraphernalia.

ELENA (O.S.)
Is that you, Jayce?

He frantically brushes the remaining dirt from his hair.

ELENA, early 30s, emerges from the bedroom with a smile. Her
jet black hair enhances the pop of her bright green eyes. Her
body’s hidden -- almost protected -- in a bulky sweater. But
there’s no mistaking that she’s way out of his league.

ELENA
I didn’t hear you come in.

JAYCE
I didn’t want to wake you, angel.

ELENA
Where have you been?

JAYCE
I went out... to visit grannie.
 32.

ELENA
Aww, aren’t you a good Samaritan.

Elena gives Jayce a modest peck on the lips. She wraps her
arms around him for a hug and rests her chin on his shoulder.

ELENA
“Honor thy father and thy mother,
that thy days may be long upon the
land which the Lord thy God giveth
thee.”

JAYCE
Hmm?

ELENA
Exodus. 20:12.

Elena gazes to the shrine. Clearly, these objects have been

collected by her. A constant reminder of her faith.

JAYCE
(lying through his teeth)
Oh, right. Of course. I was
thinking the exact same thing.

ELENA
I’m gonna get ready for bed. I’m
not feeling that well.

JAYCE
I can make you feel better.

Jayce pulls Elena tighter. His hands lower and grab a firm
grip on her ass. She resists and slips away.

ELENA
Jayce. Not in front of Him.

Elena motions to the Jesus statue. Jayce feigns a smile.

JAYCE
No, of course not. Silly me.

Elena heads back to the bedroom.

Once she’s gone, Jayce glares at the Jesus statue.

JAYCE
Cock blocker.
 33.

INT. OASIS APARTMENTS - APARTMENT 8M - BEDROOM - NIGHT

Elena, now in pajama pants and a thin tank top, sleeps in

their shared bed. She must have fallen asleep while reading,
as she still has a Bible by her hand.

Jayce is still awake. And still restless.

He watches Elena sleep -- so still, so lifeless -- and gets

an idea. He slides a hand to the edge of her pajama pants.
And slips a finger underneath...

It’s a delicate operation, like an FBI agent diffusing a

bomb. One wrong move and it’ll blow up in his face.

He must have hit the wrong button, because an ALARM BLARES.

Turns out, it’s just the phone RINGING. Elena shifts awake.
Jayce snatches up the Bible and rolls to his side of the bed.

ELENA
Want me to get it?

JAYCE
(reading the Bible)
Could you? This is my absolute
favorite chapter.

Elena obliges and answers the phone. But after a few seconds,
her smile fades.

Jayce watches her, an eyebrow raised. Something must be

wrong. After about ten more seconds, she hangs up.

JAYCE
Everything all right?

ELENA
One of the kids from the center got
in trouble. I’m going to go help.

JAYCE
Do you ever stop being so
magnificent? You’re straight on
your way to sainthood, baby.

Elena slips out of bed and rushes to her closet in order to

change. She peels off her tank top.

Jayce stares at her bare back, at the outline of her breasts.

He sweats and licks his lips. He can barely contain himself.
 34.

JAYCE
In fact, you inspired me. I’m going
to go visit grannie.

EXT. DOWNTOWN MORTECITA - NIGHT

In the downtown district of Mortecita, the seediness

amplifies at this hour. There are CLUB-GOERS, but also
DRUGGIES and DEGENERATES roaming free.

EXT. TRASHY STRIP CLUB - NIGHT

A beefy BOUNCER blocks the entrance to a strip club.

BOUNCER 1
Not happening, pal. You’re banned.

Sure enough, he’s talking to Jayce.

JAYCE
Banned?? Why in the world?

BOUNCER 1
Last time we let you in, we caught
you jacking off in the bathroom
stalls.

JAYCE
(busted)
Ya know, those stalls are supposed
to be private.

MORTECITA MONTAGE

--- Jayce gets rejected by other clubs. Over and over.

BOUNCER 2
Not tonight.

BOUNCER 3
No chance.

BOUNCER 4
Get lost, creep.

--- Dejected and desperate, Jayce looks around for answers.

--- He notices... THE POUND. The dump looks like the seediest
strip club on the block, right down to its half-flickering
signs and boarded-up windows. A perv’s last resort.
 35.

EXT. THE POUND - NIGHT

Jayce stands at the entrance to the Pound. Although there’s

no one else in line, he’s blocked by a TAILSMAN guard.

TAILSMAN
Sorry. Members only.

Jayce strains to look through the window. He can only make

out one Heavyset Stripper and one Customer. The rest of the
tables are completely empty.

JAYCE
Looks like you could use a few more
members.

TAILSMAN
Liberty runs a tight ship. It’s an
exclusive club.

JAYCE
Come on. Please. I need to see a
naked body tonight. A warm one.

TAILSMAN
Why don’t you go down to the
Asphodel Fields? You can usually
find cheap whores out there.

JAYCE
What? Whores? No. Disgusting. I’m a
respectable man. I have a good job.
An amazing girlfriend. I’m not
desperate enough to go around,
trolling for hookers.

EXT. ABANDONED FIELDS - DIRT ROAD - NIGHT

A sign reads: “Asphodel Fields.”

Jayce drives down the dirt road, trolling for hookers.

INT. JAYCE’S CAR - NIGHT

Jayce searches for signs of life. Even the fields themselves

are dead, with plenty of rotted tobacco plants.

He finally spots someone -- a DISEASED SEX WORKER. Green puss

coats her entire neck and spirals up to chin. Her sunken eyes
look almost dead. Whatever she has looks contagious.
 36.

JAYCE
Maybe next time...

He keeps driving.

In the distance, he catches sight of someone in the fields.

Someone desperate. Flagging him down.

Jayce pulls the car over and rolls down his window.

The figure rushes over, in a panic. It’s a slender boy.

Barnaby James. Barnaby’s short of breath, exhausted.

BARNABY
Can you help me??

JAYCE
I think we can help each other.
Come on in.

INT. JAYCE’S CAR - CONTINUOUS

Barnaby climbs into the passenger seat. He’s eager to get

moving, but Jayce doesn’t start driving yet.

JAYCE
You’re a good looking boy, if you
don’t mind me saying.

BARNABY
Thanks... my name’s Barnaby.

JAYCE
Barnaby. Good alias, too. Wouldn’t
want your mommy and daddy to find
out what you were up to.

Jayce waggles his eyebrows suggestively. But Barnaby doesn’t

follow. He’s too focused on his potential pursuers.

BARNABY
Do you mind if we start driving? I
need to get out of here.

JAYCE
Absolutely. Whatever you prefer.

Jayce revs up the engine and turns the car around. Barnaby
buckles up his seat belt. He looks nervous, but at least he’s
moving. He looks behind him for signs of the Fiddler.

BARNABY
Thanks. I’m in a bit of a hurry.
 37.

INT. BLACK TOP - LABORERS’ TENT - NIGHT

Back at the Black Top, Sudsy stirs restlessly on his wooden

board bed. He tries to sleep, but he’s still on edge.

Suddenly, he hears music. The Fiddler’s tune.

Sudsy’s eyes shoot open, fully awake now. He looks over to

see the Fiddler play, a mere foot away from his bed.

THE FIDDLER
First rule of show business, boy-o:
makin’ friends is awful foolish.

Sudsy tries to escape, but the Fiddler lunges at him. The

Fiddler grabs Sudsy and throws him back down on the board. He
glares down at him with wild, demented eyes.

THE FIDDLER
Tell me where ‘e went, and I’ll
kill ya real simple and quick like.

EXT. STREETS OF MORTECITA - NIGHT

Jayce drives back through the city. Passing by strip clubs --

go-go bars -- drug dens.

INT. JAYCE’S CAR - NIGHT

Jayce drives, wiping the slimy sweat from his forehead.

Barnaby sits in the passenger seat, oblivious. He’s too

focused on the sketchy sites around him.

BARNABY
The city used to be a lot nicer
than this.

JAYCE
When? A 100 years ago? The place is
a shithole these days. Only people
here are the creeps who couldn’t
hack it in “polite society.”

Barnaby reconsiders Jayce. Does that include him?

JAYCE
What’s a nice clean boy like you
doing in a dirty city like this?
 38.

BARNABY
I’m looking for someone that I
haven’t seen in a long time. She’s
the love of my life.

JAYCE
I know how you feel. I have a
girlfriend myself. Stunning.
Absolutely stunning. But she’s
religious. She even quotes the
Bible, if you can believe that.

BARNABY
That’s really nice.

JAYCE
Oh sure, that’s what I mean. It’s
wonderful. It’s just... I wish I
could express how much I like her.
Physically.

BARNABY
She’s probably saving herself for
marriage. That’s what Delilah’s
doing. In the end, the wait will
make things so much more special.

JAYCE
Yes, of course. Truly special,
these angels of ours. Making us
wait. Making us want.

Jayce sends another suggestive smile to Barnaby, who simply

seems confused by it.

JAYCE
I guess we’re in the same boat.
(sidling closer)
But the question is... what are we
going to do in this boat while
we’re here?

Again, Barnaby has no f’ing clue what he’s talking about.

Jayce doesn’t care. He LUNGES for Barnaby, groping and pawing

at him. His tongue SLURPS on his cheek.

Instinctively, Barnaby KICKS Jayce’s jaw away from him. Jayce

rears back, his lip bloodied. Confused.

BARNABY JAYCE
What the heck?? What the fuck?!

A pause. A reflection.
 39.

JAYCE
Think we had some miscommunication
here...

BARNABY
I’ll say. I told you: I need to go
somewhere. Some place downtown.

JAYCE
So... wait...

Jayce tries to do the math in his head. Unfortunately, he’s

not very good at it.

JAYCE
This place you wanna go? We can --
(air quotes)
“Find love” there?

BARNABY
Exactly. That’s all I’m after.

JAYCE
Right. Me, too.

They both nod. They’re finally on the same page. (Albeit in

massively different books.)

INT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - NIGHT

Mannequins decorate a small shop, each wearing only a ball

gag and sample tattoos over their plastic skin.

A neon sign behind them reads: “Classy Ass Tattoo Shoppe.”

KAT, 20s, an apprentice tattoo artist, mans the front desk.

Bored, she sketches a dragon inserting its tail into a woman.

Ding. A new customer.

KAT
(on autopilot)
Heya. Welcome to the Classy Ass
Tattoo Shoppe...

She looks up to see... Barnaby and Jayce at the door. They

both appear confused. Tentative.

KAT
Guessing this is your first time
here.
 40.

BARNABY
Sorry, we must be in the wrong
place. I was looking for a guy,
who, uh --

JAYCE
(interrupting)
I’d prefer a lady myself! But I’m
open minded. Open to... whatever.

Kat studies the odd pair.

And presses an intercom.

KAT
Figgy, we got a client for you.

INT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - WORK ROOM - NIGHT

A downstairs work room consists of a dentist-style chair as

well as dozens of filing cabinets.

FIGUEROA, 40s, a salty old dog who’s seen it all, cleans his
tools. Tattoos, primitive and faded, decorate his beefy arms
and his shaved head. His gut hangs over the waistband of his
pants, which are speckled with stains of various colors.

FIGUEROA
(into the intercom)
Be right there.

Figueroa heads to the door, where a vintage elevator,

essentially a steel cage, waits for him.

INT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - NIGHT

There’s a click click clicking as the old elevator rises to

the top floor.

Kat continues to sketch. Barnaby and Jayce continue to wait.

Jayce leers at Kat in the meantime.

JAYCE
So... are you just the clerk? Or
are you...?

KAT
An apprentice.

JAYCE
An apprentice? How much training
goes into something like this?
 41.

KAT
You’d be surprised.

The elevator arrives. Figueroa steps out. He appraises the

new customers, and immediately focuses on Barnaby.

FIGUEROA
Hey, I’m Figueroa. I’m the cat
you’re looking for.

BARNABY
Hi. I’m Barnaby. Barnaby James. I’m
here to --

FIGUEROA
I know why you’re here, kid. Been
doing this for years. Come on back.
(to Jayce)
You can wait up here.

KAT
Lucky me.

INT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - WORK ROOM - NIGHT

Downstairs, Figueroa unlocks his filing cabinets. Barnaby

paces back and forth, peering over Figueroa’s shoulder.

FIGUEROA
So who are ya looking for? Figure
she’s someone important if Azlon is
sending you out in the middle of
the night to find her.

BARNABY
Her name’s Delilah. Delilah
Pritchard.

Figueroa digs through the “P” file. He’s casual. Like he

said, he’s been doing this for years.

BARNABY
So the tattoo parlor is just a
front for this?

FIGUEROA
Nah, it’s a real business. But I
make more working under the table
for all the freaks and creeps.
(catching himself)
No offense.

None taken.
 42.

FIGUEROA
Say, what happened to that other
guy? Azlon usually sends some
little fat kid.

BARNABY
Sudsy. He’s okay.
(quiet)
I hope.

FIGUEROA
Pritchard. Pritchard. Got her.
(reading)
File says she was buried a few
miles in the Riversfield Cemetery.

BARNABY
Sounds like a nice place.

FIGUEROA
Used to be. ‘Til it flooded. Now,
they only use it to dump hobos and
whores.

A glare from Barnaby. Almost intimidating.

FIGUEROA
Relax, kid. This girl wasn’t
either. She died a long time ago.
(re: the file)
There’s no name on her headstone,
though. It’s written in this
foreign shit instead.

Figueroa scribbles a note for Barnaby on stencil paper.

“Non ominis moriar.”

FIGUEROA
If you can find this, you can find
the girl.

Barnaby clutches the note. He’s on cloud nine.

BARNABY
Thank you. You don’t know how much
this means to me.

FIGUEROA
You mean: to Azlon. Right?

No comment from Barnaby. Busted.

 43.

FIGUEROA
Azlon sent you, didn’t he? ‘Cause
I’m not about to get on the wrong
side of those crazy circus fucks.

BARNABY
Look, I don’t mean any trouble...

FIGUEROA
You got trouble, buddy. Big time.

Barnaby squirms away from Figueroa, nervous for his safety.

BARNABY
I used to work for Azlon. As a
grave boy. But...

FIGUEROA
But you ran away?

A nod.

FIGUEROA
Just to find this chick?

Another nod.

FIGUEROA
Fucking hell, kid. That’s romantic.
Courageous. And stupid as hell.
Smart money says you get killed by
the end of the night.

BARNABY
Why do you say that?

FIGUEROA
You ran away from the Black Top.
And you’re walking around with that
mark on your chest. May as well be
a bullseye.

Barnaby hikes up his shirt to hide the mark again. Since it’s
on the edge of his neck, it’s a difficult task.

FIGUEROA
You better get yourself a
turtleneck. Or...
(re: his tools)
A tattoo.
 44.

INT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - NIGHT

Upstairs, Jayce ogles the naked mannequins.

Behind the desk, Kat tries her best to ignore him.

JAYCE
I’ve never heard of this place
before. Must be a hidden gem of the
kink scene.

KAT
Huh?

JAYCE
So how does it work? Does the big
guy do both of us? Or...?

KAT
Dude. This is a tattoo parlor.

Jayce looks around, trying to put the pieces together. All

the signs are there. The tattoo samples on the wall. The word
“tattoo” on the freaking sign. He slowly nods.

JAYCE
Ahh, I get it. Tattoo parlor.
(meaning)
As in, you “drill us.” Hot.

INT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - WORK ROOM - NIGHT

Back downstairs, Figueroa prepares his needle.

FIGUEROA
We gotta make this quick, Romeo.
What do you want it to say?

Barnaby sits in the chair, considering his exposed chest.

BARNABY
How about “Delilah”?

FIGUEROA
God damn, this chick must be
something special. You’re stalking
her ass from beyond the grave.

BARNABY
She is special. But more than that,
she saw me as special, too.
 45.

Figueroa starts the tattoo. Barnaby winces through the pain.

The memories of Delilah help numb it.

BARNABY
No one else thought much of me. No
one else even glanced in my
direction. But we’d talk for hours.
I’d even write her letters and
poems to show how much she meant to
me. She’d even go around, showing
them to her friends and --

FIGUEROA
Listen, Barney...

BARNABY
Barnaby.

Figueroa works quickly, crudely covering Barnaby’s mark with

Delilah’s name. He’s already finished the “D.”

FIGUEROA
I’m sure Delilah was great and all,
but talking about your first life’s
like asking your girl who she
fucked before you. Most of the
time, it’s better not to know. You
need to move on -- forget the past.

BARNABY
I can’t do that. Delilah’s still
the only thing that matters to me.
(re: the tattoo)
And I can’t wait for her to see
this.

FIGUEROA
How the hell is she gonna see it?
Azlon’s not gonna help you if you
ran away.

Barnaby doesn’t have a good answer. He shifts, uncomfortable.

And sticks the stencil paper deep in his pocket.

Figueroa continues with the tattoo, but he notices Barnaby

pocket the paper. He spots a bulge in Barnaby’s pant leg. It
looks right about the same size as Azlon’s wand would be.

FIGUEROA
Fucking. Shit. You’re even stupider
than I thought, Barney.

BARNABY
It’s Barnab --
 46.

Without warning, Figueroa rears back and SLAMS THE NEEDLE

INTO BARNABY’S NECK. Blood sprays everywhere.

Barnaby springs to his feet and attempts to run away, but

Figueroa keeps STABBING. Barnaby wrestles with him,
SCREAMING, but Figueroa’s too strong. He STABS him again.

INT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - NIGHT

Upstairs, Jayce can hear the sound of pained WAILS.

JAYCE
Uh, is that normal...?

KAT
Lot of first-timers scream. You
should leave if you can’t handle
it.

The screams die down. And the click click click of the
elevator starts again. Figueroa’s coming back up.

JAYCE
What did he do to the kid? Must
have been pretty kinkyyy --

Figueroa emerges. Dripping with blood.

Jayce stares at him. Figueroa stares back.

JAYCE
You’re right. I can’t handle this!

He runs out the door.

EXT. DOWNTOWN MORTECITA - NIGHT

Jayce races through the streets of Mortecita, in a panic.

JAYCE (V.O.)
I never found out what happened in
that basement. And I don’t want to
know. It was a scene, too freaky
for me.

He hides behind his car, terrified.

JAYCE (V.O.)
And a reminder that I appreciate
the good things in my life.

CLOSE UP
 47.

On a posed picture of Jayce and Elena. The happy couple.

JAYCE (V.O.)
The ones that have always been
there for me.

REVEAL

The photo is nestled in Jayce’s wallet. He digs in there to

find a five-dollar bill.

And hands it to Desmond the night security guard. Sure

enough, he’s back at the cemetery.

DESMOND
Lemme guess: you’re here to see
grandma.

JAYCE
We were really close.

INT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - WORK ROOM - NIGHT

Back down in the tattoo shop, Barnaby lies on the floor.

Stabbed multiple times. Wheezing for his last breath.

JAYCE (V.O.)
It was probably a fetish gone
wrong. Or a dispute about ground
rules.

Barnaby attempts to get up, but he can’t. He slumps down in

the pool of his own blood.

JAYCE (V.O.)
But part of me likes to think it
was something more operatic. The
end of some epic love story.

Barnaby’s eyes flicker closed one last time.

He’s dead.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD CEMETERY - NIGHT

Back in the cemetery, Jayce’s bare butt is exposed as he

prepares for another romp with a corpse.

JAYCE (V.O.)
After all... I’m a romantic.

FADE OUT.
 48.

A title card reads FIGUEROA.

FIGUEROA (V.O.)
Tattoos tell a lot about a person.

EXT. STREETS OF MORTECITA - NIGHT

Crowds of people walk down the busy sidewalk. Many of them

have tattoos exposed.

FIGUEROA (V.O.)
When you chose to burn something
into your own flesh, you’re making
a statement to the world.

INT. POOL HALL - NIGHT

In a pool hall, a TOUGH DUDE leans over for a shot, exposing

a small skull tattoo on his bicep.

FIGUEROA (V.O.)
This one says, “Don’t even think
about getting in a bar fight with
me, asshole. No, seriously, I have
a low pain threshold, hence this
bitch-ass little tat.”

EXT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - NIGHT

Above the faded yellow awning of the shop is a sign labeling

it as the “Classy Ass Tattoo Shoppe,” written in old English.

A SCANTILY CLAD WOMAN emerges from the shop and heads down
the street. A colorful butterfly tattoo has been inked on her
lower back.

FIGUEROA (V.O.)
This one says, “I like butterflies
because I’m sweet. And childlike.
And I wanted to give you something
pretty to look at while you fucked
me in the ass.”

INT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - NIGHT

Mannequins decorate the small shop, each wearing only a ball

gag and sample tattoos over every inch of their plastic skin.
 49.

FIGUEROA (V.O.)
But there’s no mark more telling
than this one.

Ding. The door swings open.

For Jayce and Barnaby James. Barnaby looks lost, confused.

The mark between his collar bones is exposed.

FIGUEROA (V.O.)
This one says, “I’ve been brought
back from the dead -- and I have no
clue what’s gonna happen next.”

INT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - WORK ROOM - NIGHT

Replay of a previous scene:

Without warning, Figueroa reaches back and SLAMS THE NEEDLE

INTO BARNABY’S NECK. Blood sprays everywhere.

Barnaby springs to his feet and attempts to run away, but

Figueroa pursues him. He STABS and STABS and STABS. Blood
sprays everywhere. Barnaby WAILS in pain.

Eventually Barnaby loses so much blood that he keels over.

Gasping for his last breath.

Figueroa, wet with blood, wipes his hands on his pants. He

looks at the dying Barnaby. There’s a brief glimmer of regret
on his face. What the fuck did I just do?

But then he reaches down -- not to help, but to scoop up

Azlon’s wand.

EXT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - NIGHT

Figueroa’s car is a shabby old thing, an ugly olive green. He

stands behind it, staring down into his open trunk, where
Barnaby’s dead body rests. Pools of blood have gathered
around his punctured neck.

Luckily there’s no one around the street, aside from Kat. She
watches from a few feet away and shakes her head.

KAT
I can’t believe you did that.

FIGUEROA
Me neither. But, something inside
me went off.
 50.

The sight of the blood doesn’t sit well with Figueroa either.
He looks like he might throw up.

FIGUEROA
Seeing some kid, risking
everything. And me, never doing a
damn thing with my life.

KAT
That’s a hell of a sob story,
Figgy, but the ending sucks.

FIGUEROA
For him.

Figueroa slams the trunk closed.

KAT
You could use the wand and bring
him back.

FIGUEROA
If I do that, he’d freak out, run
off. We’d have to kill him again.

He starts for the driver’s side door. Kat follows.

FIGUEROA
I’d rather sell both of them
together. Group rate.

KAT
You have to go find Azlon. He’ll
probably give you a reward.

FIGUEROA
I’m not negotiating with Azlon.

He reaches into his pocket and digs out the wand.

AZLON
What kind of man has this power,
but uses it to run some secret
fucking song and dance show?

KAT
The kind of man who knows that
assholes like you would kill him
for it.

FIGUEROA
Don’t worry. I’m getting rid of
this shit as soon as possible.
 51.

Figueroa climbs into the car.

FIGUEROA
And I have just the buyer in mind.

EXT. THE POUND - BACK ALLEY - NIGHT

Figueroa’s car pulls into the back alley of The Pound.

When he steps out of the car, he passes an emaciated cat,

licking from a puddle of what seems to be vomit. At least he
knows he’s in the right neighborhood.

INT. THE POUND - MAIN STAGE ROOM - DUSK

Figueroa whips past a curtain. He enters the main stage room

where he’s confronted with blaring strip club music.

Only a few drunken Pathetic Patrons sit by the center stage

and gawk at the Heavyset Strippers.

Figueroa makes his way to the Handmaiden at the front desk.

FIGUEROA
I need to talk to Liberty.

HANDMAIDEN
Liberty’s busy at the moment. You
can wait by the bar or the stage.

FIGUEROA
If I had a thing for fat naked
people, I’d have stayed home and
played with myself. Tell Liberty
that I need to meet, ASAP.

Challenged, the Handmaiden simply raises an eyebrow.

She says nothing. She waits. What’s she waiting for?

Figueroa looks behind him to see: two TAILSMEN, the muscular

bouncers with fishnet shirts and steel chain belts. They’re
both taller and more intimidating than Figueroa himself.

FIGUEROA
On second thought, the bar is fine.

INT. CLASSY ASS TATTOO SHOPPE - NIGHT

Back at the tattoo shop, Kat mops down the floor. She needs
to get rid of all that blood -- all that evidence.
 52.

Ding. She looks up to see the potential customer.

It’s the Fiddler, with his case slung over his back.

THE FIDDLER
I’m lookin’ fer a boy.

Kat gives a hard look at the Fiddler -- at his cold eyes. She
can tell that he’s not someone to mess around with.

KAT
No, you’re looking for a fat man.

INT. THE POUND - MAIN STAGE ROOM - BAR - NIGHT

That fat man Figueroa waits by the bar. His fingers tap
impatiently on the bar top. He downs another drink.

INT. THE POUND - MIRRORED HALLWAY - NIGHT

Figueroa steps towards the back hallway. He ducks inside the

“poles” bathroom.

INT. THE POUND - POLES BATHROOM - NIGHT

In lieu of urinals, the Pound’s men’s bathroom opts for one

giant public pissing trough, already half filled.

Figueroa finishes his part in helping fill it, and zips up.

The door opens, and the Dirty Old Man enters. He stumbles to
the trough, clearly drunk.

DIRTY OLD MAN

Whooo boy...

Figueroa gives a passing nod to the Dirty Old Man as he moves

to the sink to wash up. He finds some indeterminate slimy
substance on the faucet handle. It’s enough to give him
second thoughts about the need to wash his hands.

DIRTY OLD MAN

I just had a dance from a fine,
fine piece of woman. Got me harder
than a brick oven. God bless her.

The Dirty Old Man unzips and starts urinating into the
trough. Figueroa tries to wrap his hand in his shirt so he
can turn on the faucet handle without touching it directly.
 53.

DIRTY OLD MAN

I could feel her... her wetness...
up on my leg.

FIGUEROA
Listen, you crazy old coot, no one
wants to hear that shit. I don’t
feel like throwing up tonight.

Figueroa heads for the exit.

DIRTY OLD MAN (O.S.)

Aww hell... I’ve gone blue.

Figueroa glances back to the trough to see what the hell that
means. The Dirty Old Man’s urine is bright blue.

FIGUEROA
What the fuck did you drink?

The Dirty Old Man’s eyes flutter closed. He collapses head

first into the trough, spilling a good deal of the urine onto
the floor and Figueroa’s pants.

Alarmed, Figueroa goes to check the Dirty Old Man’s pulse on

the dry arm that’s draped over the trough end. He’s alive.

Figueroa tries to pull the Dirty Old Man out of the trough.
He stops as soon as he gets his head above water. He’s had
too much piss splash on his pants to do more than that.

He looks sick from the smell.

INT. THE POUND - MIRRORED HALLWAY - NIGHT

Figueroa exits the bathroom, wiping his hands on his pants.

Down the hall, he spots Liberty talking with Malacoda the

security guard. He rushes over, urgent.

FIGUEROA
Liberty, I need to talk to you...

LIBERTY
(not even looking over)
I have priorities, Figgy. You’re
not one of them.

FIGUEROA
No, but making money is. And I’ve
got the offer of a lifetime for
you.
 54.

LIBERTY
What, a free smiley face tattoo?

FIGUEROA
A secondhand item. An antique.
(loaded)
Used to be Azlon’s.

Immediately, Liberty turns to Figueroa. Intrigued.

LIBERTY
Don’t toy with my emotions. I’m a
sensitive soul.

FIGUEROA
It’s real. I have it. And I’m about
to start the auction.

Liberty’s demeanor changes. They toss a skinny arm around

Figueroa, acting like his new best friend.

LIBERTY
Why, my sweet Figgy puddin’, I may
have underestimated you.

FIGUEROA
You’re not the first.

LIBERTY
I’ll consider that when we start to
negotiate the asking price. Let’s
go into my office anddddd --

Wait. Liberty’s distracted by a newcomer --

Callahan. He lurks nearby. Hungry.

LIBERTY
Hold on. I have to attend to him
first. He’s not the type to keep
waiting.

FIGUEROA
And neither am I. I want to sell
this stick and get the fuck out of
this place.

LIBERTY
Patience, darling. Stay, relax.
Enjoy all the perks of what being
evil has to offer.

Liberty motions to the Handmaiden.

 55.

LIBERTY
Take special care of our friend
Figueroa here. He’s our newest VIP!

INT. THE POUND - MALEBOLGE ROOM - NIGHT

The Handmaiden sets up Figueroa downstairs, with a row of

brightly colored cocktails. And a pair of Service Girls,
attending to his every desire.

FIGUEROA
A guy could get used to this...

HANDMAIDEN
(devious)
Some of our guests never want to
leave.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - NIGHT

Down in the Meat Room, a raggedy DRIFTER presses his hand

against this glass prison. He’s not leaving any time soon.

LIBERTY (O.S.)
Will he do?

Liberty turns that question to --

Callahan. His eyes shine yellow. Drool drips down from his
fangs onto his chin. He snarls, hungry.

LIBERTY
I’ll take that as a yes.

INT. THE POUND - MAIN STAGE ROOM - NIGHT

Liberty’s Handmaiden heads back up to the main strip club

room. She passes the mirrored hallway and heads to the desk.

She stops in her tracks when she sees someone waiting...

The Fiddler. He tilts his head, considering her.

THE FIDDLER
Think you know why I’m ‘ere, love.

HANDMAIDEN
Give me one moment -- Liberty’s
with a customer right now.
 56.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - NIGHT

Down in the Meat Room, Callahan FEASTS on the Drifter. His

jaws TEAR into the man’s flesh. The Drifter WAILS in pain.

By the staircase, Liberty watches in amusement. This is like

porn to them.

HANDMAIDEN (O.S.)
My liege?

The Handmaiden peers in through a crack in the door.

HANDMAIDEN
There’s a man here to see you. He
says it’s urgent.

LIBERTY
Give me a minute. This will take
less than that.

HANDMAIDEN
It’s the man with the fiddle.

LIBERTY
Christ. Can’t we get through one
night without someone getting hurt?

Offscreen, Liberty can hear the Drifter’s SCREAMS.

INT. THE POUND - BACK ROOM - NIGHT

Liberty saunters down a strip club staple -- the back room

for private dances. There are several booths, each concealed
with cloth curtains.

The Fiddler’s tune pours out of one of the booths. Liberty

takes a deep breath as they approach.

IN THE PRIVATE BOOTH

Liberty peels back the curtain to find the Fiddler, seated on

the singular chair. The Fiddler concentrates on his song,
allowing his hair to fall in his face.

LIBERTY
I take it you --

The Fiddler holds up a finger. Liberty shuts up. They should

know better than to interrupt.

The Fiddler finishes the song. Once he does, Liberty claps.

 57.

LIBERTY
Bravo. But you know, darling, you’d
never have to audition to play here
at the Pound.

The Fiddler doesn’t bother to look up. Instead, he carefully

lowers his fiddle into its case.

THE FIDDLER
I’m lookin’ fer a boy. An’ a fat
man.

LIBERTY
A boy and a fat man. Why, you’re
even kinkier than Azlon.

Not amused, the Fiddler’s dark eyes glare up at Liberty.

THE FIDDLER
Some grave boy’s run away from the
Black Top. Azlon wants me to fetch
‘im back.

LIBERTY
What’s his name?

Silence from the Fiddler.

LIBERTY
Well... how would you describe him?

THE FIDDLER
I ain’t good with names or faces.
He’s a boy. Teenager, I suppose.
Got the mark on ‘is chest.

LIBERTY
You can’t expect me to keep track
of every horny boy who comes here.

The Fiddler stands and glares down at Liberty. He’s nearly

half a foot taller than the diminutive club owner. Liberty
doesn’t back down an inch. They even coo.

LIBERTY
I can’t tell whether you’re trying
to scare me... or turn me on.

The Fiddler runs a hand through Liberty’s hair.

But only to grab hold of the back of their head. He RAMS

THEIR HEAD INTO THE WALL. Again. And again. And again.
 58.

Around the third crack, Liberty’s nose bursts with a bloody

explosion. When the Fiddler finally lets go, Liberty
collapses to the ground, leaving a red imprint on the wall.

A huddled mass on the floor, Liberty spits out a few loose

teeth. They try to lift their head, but the Fiddler pins it
back down to the ground with his boot.

THE FIDDLER
Find. The. Boy.

Liberty whimpers, barely able to speak.

LIBERTY
I... I think I have an idea...

INT. THE POUND - MALEBOLGE ROOM - FIGUEROA’S BOOTH - NIGHT

Figueroa watches two Service Girls writhe against each other

next to him. He swigs back his fifth drink and grins.

FIGUEROA
Yo, can I get another green one?

INT. THE POUND - MIRRORED HALLWAY - NIGHT

With his fiddle case slung over his back, the Fiddler follows
Liberty down the mirrored hall.

Liberty’s tense, nervous, but trying not to show it. They

check themselves out in the mirror. Their nose is broken, and
bruises already form around their cheeks. The only thing they
can do to help is adjust their wig and feign a smile.

When Malacoda sees the state of Liberty’s battered face, he

steps up to confront the Fiddler.

LIBERTY
No need for a swordfight on my
account, boys. The Fiddler’s a dear
old friend.

Malacoda glares at the Fiddler, unsure about that.

THE FIDDLER
Don’t try to fight me, boy-o.
You’ll ruin your pretty outfit.

Malacoda grits his teeth and tugs open the hatch.

 59.

INT. THE POUND - MALEBOLGE ROOM - NIGHT

Liberty leads the Fiddler across the stone bridge. The

Fiddler doesn’t recognize a single Sinner in the place.

LIBERTY
He mentioned the wand. I pleaded
with him to give it back to Azlon,
but he didn’t listen.

THE FIDDLER
Where’s this fat man now?

Liberty quickly locates Figueroa. He’s at the last table in

the room, with his back turned towards them.

LIBERTY
There he is...

Liberty heads towards the table. Out of the corner of their

eye, they catch sight of something else -- the bolted door.

LIBERTY
Right down that door.

Liberty comes to the door. They unlock it and swing the door
open. The Fiddler looks suspicious, but peeks inside.

When his back is turned, Liberty SHOVES HIM, with all the
might their small frame can muster. It’s enough to do the
trick, as the Fiddler stumbles down the staircase.

Liberty hears the Fiddler tumble down the stairs like a sack
of potatoes. And then -- a ferocious GROWL from below.

LIBERTY
I’d love to stay and watch the
show... but I’ve got some business
to attend to first.

Liberty slams the door shut and double-locks it. As they do,
the Handmaiden hustles over.

HANDMAIDEN
Brilliant, my liege! As always!

LIBERTY
Oh shut up, skank. If I wanted my
ass kissed, I’d pick someone with
fuller lips.
 60.

INT. THE POUND - MALEBOLGE ROOM - NIGHT

Oblivious, Figueroa continues to down his drinks on the other

side of the room. He watches an orgy taking place in the next
booth over.

LIBERTY (O.S.)
Enjoying yourself, darling?

Liberty arrives at his table, still sporting some damage from

the scuffle with Fiddler before.

FIGUEROA
What the hell happened to you? You
look like shit.

LIBERTY
That’s no way to talk to a friend,
Figgy. Especially one who’s about
to make you a very rich man.

EXT. THE POUND - BACK ALLEY - NIGHT

Figueroa and Liberty exit the club and head towards

Figueroa’s old car. Figueroa pulls out his keys.

FIGUEROA
I want a hundred grand, and
assurance that Azlon doesn’t come
after me.

LIBERTY
Don’t be scared of Azlon. I just
handled his attack dog myself.

FIGUEROA
Yeah, your face looks like it. Can
you guarantee Azlon doesn’t trace
this back to me?

LIBERTY
My entire business is built on
keeping clients anonymous, darling.

Figueroa unlocks the trunk. The sight and smell of Barnaby’s

dead body hits him. His queasiness returns.

LIBERTY
Oh, I’ll pay extra for that. He’s a
handsome little twink. Virgin, too.

FIGUEROA
How the fuck can you tell that?
 61.

LIBERTY
Don’t insult my professionalism,
Figgy. That’s like asking if a
butcher can tell the difference
between veal and chuck stake.

Liberty runs their hand over the tattoo on Barnaby’s chest.

When he died, Figueroa had only finished the “D-E-L-I” of
Delilah’s name.

LIBERTY
People in this town pay a premium
for innocence like this. And look,
he’s even got “deli” written on his
chest. That’s what we call kismet!
He’s destined for my meat room.

Figueroa covers his nose as he fishes through the bloody

trunk. He stifles vomit. Finally, he finds the wand.

He hands the wand over to Liberty. Liberty stares at it as

though they’ve found the Holy Grail.

LIBERTY
Oh, darling, I didn’t really think
you had it in you.

FIGUEROA
(uncomfortable)
Yeah, me neither.

LIBERTY
You have no idea how much I can do
with this. If it still works.

FIGUEROA
Give it a test run on the kid.

Liberty’s intrigued. They target the old mark on Barnaby’s

chest... and JAM the wand back into the same spot.

The wand steams, and purple fluid boils out. When the fluid
pours down Barnaby’s neck, the puncture marks start to heal.

Liberty’s eyes go wide, amazed with the wand’s power. They

step back to watch the show. Figueroa watches as well,
although the toxic smell only makes him more nauseous.

Before long, Barnaby blinks. He takes a moment to collect his

bearings. He looks around in a state of panic before his eyes
settle on Liberty, who smiles down at him.
 62.

LIBERTY
Don’t be frightened, cutie pie. I’m
going to take care of you.
(cryptic)
For a long, long time.

Figueroa watches the interaction, disgusted. Disgusted with

himself, mostly.

FIGUEROA
I think I’m gonna be sick.

He rushes over to the side of the building.

He coughs violently and before long, he vomits. Twice. He

wipes his mouth and wipes it on his pants.

LIBERTY
(amused)
Guess you’re not cut out for this
level of sin after all.

Figueroa notices something. His vomit -- it’s bright blue.

LIBERTY
Best to leave it to us
professionals.

FIGUEROA
What the fuck was in those drinks?!

Liberty merely snickers as they stroke Barnaby’s hair.

FIGUEROA (V.O.)
I should have known better.

Figueroa looks back to Liberty. He focuses on the tattoos on

Liberty’s arms.

“Land of the Free.” “Home of the Slave.”

FIGUEROA (V.O.)
Tattoos tell a lot about a person.

Figueroa’s eyes flutter.

He collapses into his own vomit.

FADE OUT.
 63.

A black screen. A title card reads ELENA.

ELENA (V.O.)
I know nothing good lives in me.

EXT. CHURCH OF ST. NICHOLAS - DUSK

There are only a few cars parked in the lot next to the quiet
little church on this evening.

ELENA (V.O.)
That is, in my sinful nature.

EXT. ST. NICHOLAS - BASEMENT - DUSK

The church basement is plain, bare. It can serve a variety of

event functions.

Today, it allows Elena (seen before as Jayce’s girlfriend) to

sit on a small wooden chair and spill her guts out.

ELENA
For I have the desire to do what is
good, but I cannot carry it out.

FATHER JOHN, 50s, nods solemnly. He’s bald, compact. He

dresses fairly casually, although the square white collar on
his shirt signifies that he is indeed a Catholic priest.

FATHER JOHN
Romans. That’s a good book for what
you’re all going through.

Father John looks around the room, where three other ADDICTS
sit with Elena and Father John in a circle. Their faces look
tired, exhausted. Some clutch tissues to dry their eyes.

FATHER JOHN
We’ve done a lot of good work
today. Why don’t we stop for now
and pick up here next week.

The other Addicts clear out.

But Elena stares blankly, frozen on her chair. Teary eyed.

She’s in her own head.

EXT. CHURCH OF ST. NICHOLAS - DUSK

Two of the Addicts drive away in their cars, while the third
stays outside and talks with Father John.
 64.

Elena walks towards her car, a cherry-red sports car parked

at the end of the lot. She digs into her bag to get the keys.

VOICE (O.S.)
Elena. Marsdale.

She looks up to see --

Callahan (the Feeder) is sitting on her car hood. He’s not

the type of guy you want to see in a dark alley, let alone
camped on your car.

CALLAHAN
Classy name.
(beat)
Not sure it fits.

Elena looks around for help, making eye contact with Father
John. Father John says a few final words to the lingering
Addict and heads over in her direction.

In the meantime, Callahan circles around her.

CALLAHAN
Little tip: When you skip town and
change your name, you ought to
think about getting a new car, too.

ELENA
I’ve changed everything else. I’m a
different person.

CALLAHAN
What a shame. I liked the old
version better.

Father John approaches the pair, with a protective posture.

FATHER JOHN
A friend of yours, Elena?

ELENA
An old friend.

Callahan produces an obnoxiously fake grin to Father John.

CALLAHAN
Nice to meet ya, padre. I just came
to say how proud I am of our little
Elena for turning her life around.

FATHER JOHN
She’s an inspiration to us all.
 65.

Father John produces a slip of paper with his number on it,

and hands it to Elena.

FATHER JOHN
But if you ever have a problem,
Elena, please call. Any time.

Elena nods, giving Father John enough confidence to leave.

Callahan watches Father John return to the church.

CALLAHAN
Smells like he eats a lot of salt.
Could be tasty.

ELENA
You’re on a dark road, Callahan.
But there’s light at the end of the
tunnel. There’s hope.

CALLAHAN
How’s that working out for you?

ELENA
I haven’t sinned in months.

CALLAHAN
You must be bored sick.

Elena shakes her head, not quite ready to give up on him yet.

ELENA
John 1:9 says, “If we confess our
sins, He is faithful and just to
forgive us our sins and to cleanse
us from all unrighteousness.”

CALLAHAN
If you stripped away all your
“unrighteousness,” there’d be
nothing left.

Callahan looms over her, but Elena doesn’t back down an inch.

ELENA
Come to a meeting. Please. We can
save you, too.

CALLAHAN
I’ll make you a deal. I’ll meet
your friends. But first, you have
to meet mine.
 66.

INT. THE POUND - MAIN STAGE ROOM - DUSK

We’re back to the seedy lightning and music of the Pound.

The Heavyset Strippers writhe on stage. A few grimy Patrons

watch them in between swigs of their drinks.

Callahan and Elena sit in a booth. Callahan downs a whiskey.

Elena nurses a glass of water.

LIBERTY (O.S.)
Back again? I’m starting to think
you’re getting attached.

Liberty saunters over to their booth and offers a smile and a

cheek kiss hello to Callahan. Chronologically this is before
Liberty gets attacked by the Fiddler, so Liberty is still
fresh faced and full of swagger.

LIBERTY
Sorry you had to wait so long. My
bitch of a handmaiden is awful at
keeping me organized.

Liberty pulls a chair to the end of the booth.

LIBERTY
I swear, pretty girls don’t get
slapped around nearly enough to
learn any disciple.

At that, Liberty feigns a smile at Elena.

LIBERTY
Speaking of pretty girls, who’s
this young-ish lady?

CALLAHAN
Elena. You can trust her.

LIBERTY
Whatever you say, darling. Can I
get you two anything to drink?

ELENA
I’m fine with water.

LIBERTY
(to Callahan)
Fun girl.

Elena glares daggers at Liberty. Callahan senses the tension

between them and turns to Elena.
 67.

CALLAHAN
See, this place specializes in sin.

ELENA
I can tell.

LIBERTY
Sins of the flesh. I named it the
Pound for three reasons. For the
voluptuous dancers. For the men who
pay to pound them... does Callahan
pound hard, pretty Elena?

ELENA
I wouldn’t know.

LIBERTY
You could probably find out if you
ordered something besides water. Or
changed your hair.

Elena looks to Callahan. She wants to leave. Now.

CALLAHAN
Show her the basement.

LIBERTY
Cutting to the chase. Maybe you’re
not that good in bed, after all.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - DUSK

Liberty leads Callahan and Elena down the steep wooden

staircase and deeper into the darkened basement.

LIBERTY
This is the most important reason I
named it the Pound. I keep these
strays in my meat room.

ELENA
Strays?

LIBERTY
Homeless people, runaways.

CALLAHAN
People who won’t be missed.

Liberty clicks on the lights. When they flicker on, Elena is

confronted with the walls of Prisoners.
 68.

Elena looks around the room, both horrified and excited at

the same time. She glances at Play-Thing, who flicks her
tongue at her.

ELENA
And you sell them?

LIBERTY
Or rent them. For sex, for
strangulation, for --

CALLAHAN
Dessert.

Elena’s lips begin to twitch.

Callahan’s going through the same procedure, only he’s not

fighting it. He points at the Drifter.

CALLAHAN
I’ll eat that one tonight. Elena,
which one do you want?

As Elena looks over the tempting faces of the ragged

Prisoners, her jaws lower, drooling with hunger.

But then she makes eye contact with a TEENAGE GIRL. The poor
thing looks so innocent. Elena shakes her head, trying to rid
herself of the thoughts.

ELENA
None of them.

Elena starts back up the stairs, but Callahan grabs her

wrist. She glares back at him, her lips snarling.

CALLAHAN
You know you want to.

ELENA
You have NO CLUE what I want.

Elena rips her wrist out of Callahan’s grasp. She turns her
glare on Liberty now.

ELENA
“Put to death, whatever belongs to
your earthly nature: sexual
immortality, impurity, lust, evil
desires and greed, which is
idolatry. Because of these, the
wrath of God is coming.”
 69.

LIBERTY
Oh, God, not a Bible thumper. The
worst kind of scum.

Elena rushes back up the stairs. Liberty calls after her.

LIBERTY
“Slaves, submit yourselves to your
masters with all respect, not only
those who are good and
consideration, but also those who
are harsh.”
(digging in)
It’s in the Bible, bitch!

After Elena exits, Liberty shoots Callahan a look.

LIBERTY
I told you: I hate pretty girls.
Especially prude ones.

CALLAHAN
When she gets hungry, she makes me
look like a pussycat.

EXT. THE POUND - DUSK

Elena rushes away from the club. She doesn’t look well. She’s
sweaty, aggravated. Twitching.

Callahan chases after her.

CALLAHAN
Hey, come on! Come on back! Let’s
have some fun.

ELENA
I’m not like you.

CALLAHAN
You’re worse.

She heads to her parked car, desperate to escape.

ELENA
I’m different now.

CALLAHAN
You keep saying that, but I don’t
buy it. No way your little
boyfriend believes it either.
 70.

ELENA
He doesn’t know a thing about my
past. He’s clueless. Harmless.

CALLAHAN
Sounds like a winner.

Elena opens her car door and glances back to Callahan.

ELENA
Harmless is good. Harmless is what
I need in my life.

CALLAHAN
I’ll show you what you really need
in your life.

Callahan digs into his pockets and pulls out a jewelry box.

CALLAHAN
A present. For old time’s sake.

Elena doesn’t take it, so Callahan tosses the box into her
car. It lands on the passenger seat.

ELENA
Goodbye. For good.

INT. ELENA’S SPORTS CAR - DUSK

Elena drives down the street, focusing on the road. For the
most part. Once or twice, she peeks over to the jewelry box
on the passenger seat. It’s still unopened. For now.

INT. OASIS APARTMENTS - 8TH FLOOR HALLWAY - DUSK

Elena walks down her apartment hallway. She digs into her
handbag and pulls out the small jewelry box.

She opens the hallway trash chute. She gets set to toss the
box away, but decides to take a quick peek inside first. She
finds no necklace, no ring -- just a bloody, severed finger.

She reacts to the finger like a person on a diet would to a

bon bon. It calls to her, but angers her at the same time.

Furious, Elena slams the box down the garbage chute.

 71.

INT. OASIS APARTMENTS - APARTMENT 8M - BEDROOM - NIGHT

Elena lies on the bed, reading the Bible. Trying to focus.

Trying to regain herself. She holds her head as if she’s
suffering from a major migraine.

There’s a loud BANG from the living room. The door.

ELENA
Is that you, Jayce?

INT. OASIS APARTMENTS - APARTMENT 8M - NIGHT

Elena pops out of the bedroom and finds Jayce, dirty and
stripped to his underwear. She gives a strained smile.

ELENA
I didn’t hear you come in.

JAYCE
I didn’t want to wake you, angel.

ELENA
Where have you been?

JAYCE
I went out to visit grannie.

ELENA
Aww, aren’t you a good Samaritan.

Elena gives Jayce a modest peck on the lips. She wraps her
arms around him for a hug and rests her chin on his shoulder.
She takes a sniff of his skin, savoring the smell.

ELENA
“Honor thy father and thy mother,
that thy days may be long upon the
land which the Lord thy God giveth
thee.”

JAYCE
Hmm?

A set of fangs start to poke through her gums. Her tongue,

several inches longer than it should be, slithers near his
neck. Fortunately, Jayce can’t see from his angle.

ELENA
Exodus. 20:12.
 72.

Elena tears herself away and gazes to the Christian shrine.

Clearly, these objects have been collected by her. A constant
reminder of her struggle.

JAYCE
Oh, right. Of course. I was
thinking the exact same thing.

ELENA
I’m gonna get ready for bed. I’m
not feeling that well.

From the pain in her eyes, it’s obvious that she means it.

INT. OASIS APARTMENTS - APARTMENT 8M - BEDROOM - NIGHT

Elena, in pajama pants and a tank top, sleeps in the bed with
Jayce until she’s woken up by a telephone BLARE. RING. RING.

Every sound is magnified for her. She sits up, pained by the
blaring phone. She turns to Jayce, who reads the Bible.

ELENA
Want me to get it?

JAYCE
Could you? This is my absolute
favorite chapter.

Elena feigns a smile and reaches to answer the phone.

CALLAHAN (O.S.)
I know how the cravings work,
Elena. I’ve been there. You can
resist at first, but it’s gonna get
worse and worse. Soon you’ll bite
your boyfriend’s head clean off.

Her smile fades. She looks over to Jayce, who sits up. She
stares at Jayce’s neck, his flesh. It’s tempting.

CALLAHAN (O.S.)
The only way to stop that is to
snack on someone else. Someone that
nobody knows. So come on down here.
It’s feeding time.

She hangs up. She can’t wipe the worry from her face.

JAYCE
Everything all right?
 73.

ELENA
One of the kids from the center got
in trouble. I’m going to go help.

JAYCE
Do you ever stop being so
magnificent? You’re straight on
your way to sainthood, baby.

Elena slips out of bed and rushes to her closet in order to

change. Her hands tremble as she peels off her tank top.

JAYCE (O.S.)
In fact, you inspired me. I’m going
to go visit grannie.

Elena presses her hands to her head, fighting her headache.

EXT. THE POUND - NIGHT

Degenerates wander around downtown. Some pass by the Pound,

oblivious to what may be going on inside.

Half a block away, Elena watches the place, wearing a bulky

coat. She’s too scared to actually enter again, but she’s too
tempted to go back home.

She breathes heavily. She twitches. She fidgets. She escapes

into the back alley.

EXT. THE POUND - BACK ALLEY - NIGHT

Elena leans against an alley, trying to catch her breath.

Trying to contain herself. Tears well up in her eyes.

But then --

FIGUEROA (O.S.)
What the fuck was in those drinks?!

Elena looks down the alley and sees the source of the voice --
Figueroa. He yells at Liberty, who hovers over a car trunk.

But soon, Figueroa collapses into his own vomit.

BY THE CAR

Liberty looms over Barnaby, who looks frightened. Liberty

strokes his hair, trying to comfort him.
 74.

LIBERTY
That bad man tried to kill you,
sweetie. But mama’s gonna make it
all better.

BACK IN THE ALLEY

Elena lays low, but continues to watch. She sees Liberty help
a young man, Barnaby, out of the trunk. Liberty escorts him
to the back entrance, a steel door.

Elena studies Barnaby. He looks so innocent. Such a sweet

face. Seeing him helps her snap out of her trance.

BY THE BACK DOOR

By the time Elena hurries over, Liberty and Barnaby are gone.

Elena rushes over to Figueroa and checks his pulse. She

gently slaps his cheek to revive him.

ELENA
Sir, sir, wake up...

Elena looks towards the steel back door, slammed shut.

ELENA
We need to help that boy. They’re
going to do horrible things to him.

INT. THE POUND - MIRRORED HALLWAY - NIGHT

Liberty escorts Barnaby down the mirrored hall, towards

Malacoda.

BARNABY
Thanks so much for helping me.

LIBERTY
Of course, darling. We can get you
all cleaned up.

Liberty makes subtle eye contact with Malacoda, who

approaches Barnaby from the side. Barnaby barely notices.

LIBERTY
But first things first. We’ll get
you a room for the night.

Without warning, Malacoda slides his steel chain belt off and
WRAPS it around Barnaby’s neck.
 75.

Barnaby kicks and struggles at first, but there’s little he

can do when Malacoda lifts him off his feet with sheer
strength. Barnaby GASPS for air, his face turning red.

LIBERTY
Lucky for you, I just so happen to
have a new vacancy downstairs.

INT. THE POUND - MALEBOLGE ROOM - NIGHT

Liberty saunters through the Malebolge Room, running their

hands over Azlon’s wand.

LIBERTY
Looks like I’m inheriting
everything from Azlon now. His wand
-- and his boy toy.

Behind Liberty, Malacoda drags Barnaby along. He’s still tied

up like a leashed dog. His wrists are bound with rope.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - NIGHT

Liberty opens the bulky door and takes ginger steps down the
steep staircase. They tug Barnaby along.

LIBERTY
Callahan? Are you done, darling?

The basement’s dark, as usual. Both Liberty and Barnaby are

cautious as they step down to the end of the staircase.

LIBERTY
I hope you enjoyed your second
course. Use the fiddle as floss.

Liberty comes to the end of the staircase and flicks on the

lights. Only, they don’t come on. The room stays dark.

Liberty searches around in the limited light. Some of the

glass cages have been shattered, including Play-Thing’s.

LIBERTY
Darling? Did you eat my Play-Thing?
I asked you not to.

Liberty looks around. No sign of Callahan. No sign of the

Fiddler. What the heck happened here?

In the shadows, someone looms behind them. Play-Thing. She’s

loose. And ornery.
 76.

Liberty realizes -- a moment too late.

LIBERTY
Help!! We need hel --

Play-Thing ATTACKS like a wild dog. She jumps on Liberty and

digs her long ungroomed fingernails deep into Liberty’s
flesh, tearing what she can. Liberty WAILS in pain.

Liberty drops Barnaby’s chain and the wand. Barnaby quickly

snatches up the wand and scampers towards the staircase.

Play-Thing leaves Liberty on the ground and chases after him.

PLAY-THING
Staaayy....

After years of abuse, Play-Thing’s voice is so scratchy that

it sounds like she’s been gargling razor blades.

She chases him up the stairs and grabs onto his shirt.

PLAY-THING
Staaaaaayyy...

Scared stiff, Barnaby can barely make eye contact with her
demented, bloodshot eyes. He shoves her off, which causes her
to stumble down the staircase.

Her neck cracks and she falls down, dead.

Barnaby’s stunned. He’s never killed anyone before, even in

self-defense. He takes a moment to stare at Play-Thing’s
frozen eyes. But he snaps out of it and runs off.

INT. THE POUND - MALEBOLGE ROOM - NIGHT

Barnaby bursts out of the double-locked door and races across

the stone bridge, weaving between Service Girls.

He passes the Handmaiden, who watches with concern. Rather

than chase after him, she rushes for the double-locked door.

HANDMAIDEN
My liege! Are you all right??

INT. THE POUND - MIRRORED HALLWAY - NIGHT

Barnaby climbs out of the hatch. For some reason, Malacoda’s

on the ground, being tended to by the two other Tailsmen.

Barnaby rushes past them. The two Tailsmen chase after him.
 77.

EXT. THE POUND - BACK ALLEY - NIGHT

Barnaby pushes open the steel door and emerges in the back
alley. His hands are still tied. The steel chain around his
neck drags behind him.

He runs and runs -- and stumbles over Figueroa’s body.

Barnaby stays on the ground. He’s exhausted, physically and

mentally. He can’t take this anymore.

ELENA (O.S.)
Hey, kid -- let me help you.

BARNABY
I don’t think I can survive any
more “help” tonight.

He looks up to see... Elena. A soft smile. A glisten from the

crucifix around her neck.

ELENA
Trust me. I’m one of the good guys.

To prove it, she helps him up, and starts to loosen the ropes
around his wrists.

BARNABY
You don’t understand, miss... You
don’t know what’s coming...

ELENA
What’s coming?

Suddenly -- two Tailsmen KICK open the steel door. They have
their steel chain belts in hand, ready to act as whips.

Elena steps in front of them, hoping to block their path.

ELENA
Don’t you dare --

They dare. Tailsman 1 WHIPS his steel chain at Elena. She

topples to the ground.

But with them distracted, Barnaby RUNS away.

DOWN THE ALLEY

Barnaby RUNS. And RUNS.

But before he can get away, Tailsman 2 catches up. He grabs

hold of the chain dragging behind Barnaby.
 78.

Tailsman 2 JERKS on the chain, causing Barnaby to snap back

onto the ground.

Tailsman 1 converges on him and delivers a football-style

PUNT with his boot, right into Barnaby’s gut.

Barnaby writhes on the alley ground, gasping for breath.

BACK BY THE DOOR

Elena pulls herself off the ground and rushes over. Rather
than help Barnaby, she digs out her car keys. Is she helping?
Is she running away? TBD.

DOWN THE ALLEY

The Tailsmen continue to beat and kick Barnaby, who writhes

on the ground in pain.

But then -- they get SMASHED by Elena’s SPORTS CAR. Mowed

down like bowling pins. They TUMBLE over the car hood and
take a hard splash on the alley.

She kicks open the passenger side door.

ELENA
Get in!

Barnaby crawls off the ground and dives into the open car.

EXT. THE POUND - BACK ALLEY - NIGHT

The car zooms off, driving erratically through the alley.

Left behind, all the Tailsmen can do is watch.

INT. ELENA’S CAR - NIGHT

Elena swerves out of the alley and onto a main road.

Barnaby tries to catch his breath. He removes the chain from

his neck and rubs the mangled skin underneath.

ELENA
We need to get you patched up.

BARNABY
Like a doctor?

Discomfort from Elena.

 79.

ELENA
No. I don’t like hospitals. Seeing
other people’s blood makes me...
uncomfortable. But I have a first-
aid kit at home.

BARNABY
You don’t have to do that.

ELENA
Of course I do. “Heal the sick,
cleanse the lepers, raise the dead,
cast out demons... Freely you have
received, freely give.”

BARNABY
Matthew 10:8.

Elena and Barnaby share a smile. They’re on the same page.

Two good Christian souls, suffering in a wicked world.

INT. OASIS APARTMENTS - APARTMENT 8M - NIGHT

Elena stands by her kitchen sink, soaking a cloth in water.

Next to her on the counter is a bottle of alcohol.

Barnaby waits nearby. He examines her apartment, taking note

of the Jesus shrine.

ELENA
Sorry the place is a mess. I was
going to clean it tomorrow.

BARNABY
Oh no, it’s nice. Nicer than where
I was staying.

Elena uses the cloth to clean the dirt from Barnaby’s neck.

ELENA
Are you moving to Mortecita?

BARNABY
I’m not sure. You know, it sounds
stupid, but I didn’t even think
that far ahead.

ELENA
That’s not stupid. I didn’t move
here as much as I moved away from
somewhere else. Sometimes you just
need a change.
 80.

Elena dips the other side of the cloth in the alcohol.

ELENA
Now this might hurt a little.

BARNABY
I’m getting used to that.

She dabs the alcohol around his neck. He winces some.

BARNABY
I didn’t get the chance to thank
you. For everything.

ELENA
It’s the Lord’s will. I was lucky
to find you. I needed a reminder
that there are good, pure people
out there. Who knows what I’d have
been up to otherwise.

Elena smiles and continues to clean Barnaby’s neck. She

notices the blood from his back soak through his shirt.

ELENA
Do you mind taking off your shirt?

Barnaby looks uncomfortable with the idea. He freezes.

ELENA
So I can clean your back.
(gentle)
You can relax. I have a boyfriend.

Barnaby gives an “of course” nod. Silly him.

BARNABY
I do, too. A girlfriend, I mean.
I’m supposed to see her tonight.

He digs into his pocket and fishes out the stencil paper that
Figueroa had given him earlier.

BARNABY
Speaking of, do you know where this
address is? The cemetery?

ELENA
Yeah, Riversfield’s straight down
the highway. My boyfriend’s
grandmother was just buried there.
 81.

BARNABY
I heard that they don’t use it
anymore.

ELENA
They must. He visits her all the
time. He’s still pretty broken up
about it.

Barnaby considers the paper. A reminder of Delilah.

BARNABY
I can understand that. It’s hard to
let go of someone you love...

Barnaby puts the paper back in his pocket. He removes his

shirt so that Elena can patch up the rest of his wounds.

BARNABY
I bet it helps your boyfriend to
have you around to lean on. You’re
such a good person.

Elena’s too distracted to respond. Barnaby has bruises and

cuts all along his back from the fight with the Tailsmen.

To Elena, those wounds look awfully inviting. For her, they

might as well be grill marks on a hamburger.

BARNABY
To be honest... I was beginning to
doubt the goodness of people.

Elena doesn’t respond. She rubs the cloth along Barnaby’s

back, hypnotized by it. Her lip twitches.

She clenches her eyes closed, hoping to block out the sight.
But when she opens them again, her eyes have turned yellow.

BARNABY
Until I met you.

With his back turned towards her, Barnaby has no idea of

Elena’s transformation.

BARNABY
You helped me -- you risked your
life for me -- and you didn’t even
know my name. It’s “Barnaby,” by
the way.

Barnaby extends his hand over his shoulder, hoping to shake

Elena’s hand in a more formal introduction.
 82.

Elena’s jaws -- now filled with fangs -- SNAP AT BARNABY. She

RINGS OUT A CHUNK OF HIS ARM.

Barnaby WAILS in pain. He turns back to Elena. The monstrous

version of Elena. She SNARLS.

So much for that friendship. Nursing his arm, Barnaby books

it for the door.

Elena catches him and FLINGS HIM against the wall with
superhuman strength.

Barnaby SMASHES against the wall, sending a tremor that

causes the Jesus shrine to tremble.

The shrine. Jesus!

Elena SHRIEKS and races for the shrine, but it’s too late.
Her precious items crash and SHATTER across the floor.

ELENA
NOooooo!

With Elena distracted, Barnaby scrambles out the door. He

snatches Elena’s car keys on the way out.

Elena looks back to Barnaby, and then her collapsed shrine.

She’s caught between two worlds.

She stumbles and falls to her knees. She holds her hands to
her head, fighting this awful headache, fighting herself.

EXT. OASIS APARTMENTS - NIGHT

Still shirtless, Barnaby races out of the apartment building.

He rushes over to Elena’s parked car. His escape.

INT. ELENA’S CAR - NIGHT

Now safely inside the car, Barnaby speeds away.

EXT. OASIS APARTMENTS - NIGHT

Elena emerges from her apartment building, stumbling wildly

like a drunk person.

She sees Barnaby, driving off in the distance.

He’s left something behind. The stencil paper. The address.

 83.

It’s clear where he’s going: the cemetery.

ELENA (V.O.)
I know nothing good lives in me.

EXT. I-66 HIGHWAY - NIGHT

Elena staggers down the highway road, on foot.

There’s a road side indicating: “Riversfield Cemetery, 10

miles.” It’ll be a long walk, but she’s hungry enough to make
the trek.

ELENA (V.O.)
That is, in my sinful nature...

A car ROARS past her. A hearse.

She continues to march. And march. On the hunt.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - PARKING LOT - DAWN

It’s nearly dawn by the time Elena arrives at the Riversfield

burial grounds.

She can see her sports car, smashed into a lamp post. Barnaby
must be around here somewhere.

ELENA
Baaarrrrnaby...

As she approaches, she notes someone else...

It’s Desmond, the night security guard. He’s been beaten.

Battered. He gasps for breath.

DESMOND
(choking on blood)
Hel... help...

Elena stares at him. His blood. Her eyes flicker with yellow
hunger.

ELENA (V.O.)
For I have the desire to do what is
good...
(beat)
But I cannot carry it out.

She LEAPS at Desmond, ready to FEAST.

FADE OUT.
 84.

A black screen. A title card reads THE FIDDLER.

THE FIDDLER (V.O.)

As far as hobbies go, I’d stack
mine up against any.

INT. THE POUND - BACK ROOM - PRIVATE BOOTH - NIGHT

The Fiddler sits on a chair in a private booth, facing a

curtain. He plays his fiddle, the same haunting tune.

THE FIDDLER (V.O.)

Folks need hobbies. Some way to
pass the time. Some way to get
through the dull parts of the day.
(beat)
Some way to keep the voices at bay.

He keeps his head down, in complete focus.

THE FIDDLER (V.O.)

Some folks can get by with
somethin’ easy. Stamp collecting.
Building model railways. For me,
only two things work to keep the
voices out: Playin’ me fiddle.

Liberty peels back the curtain.

THE FIDDLER (V.O.)

And fightin’.

CUT TO:

Replay of an earlier scene. The Fiddler grabs a fistful of

Liberty’s hair and RAMS THEIR HEAD INTO THE WALL. Again. And
again. And again.

Around the third crack, Liberty’s nose bursts with a bloody

explosion. When the Fiddler finally lets go, Liberty
collapses to the ground, leaving a red imprint on the wall.

A huddled mass on the floor, Liberty spits out a few loose

teeth. They try to lift his head, but the Fiddler pins it
back down to the ground with his boot.

THE FIDDLER
Find. The. Boy.

Liberty whimpers, barely able to speak.

LIBERTY
I... I think I have an idea...
 85.

INT. THE POUND - MALEBOLGE ROOM - NIGHT

With his fiddle case slung over his back, the Fiddler follows
Liberty across the stone bridge.

LIBERTY
He mentioned the wand. I pleaded
with him to give it back to Azlon,
but he didn’t listen.

THE FIDDLER
Where’s this fat man now?

LIBERTY
There he is. Right down that door.

Liberty opens the double-bolted door at the end of the

bridge. The Fiddler looks suspicious, but peeks inside.

When his back is turned, Liberty SHOVES HIM, with all the
might their small frame can muster. It’s enough to do the
trick, as the Fiddler stumbles down the staircase.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - CONTINUOUS

The Fiddler crashes down the steep wooden staircase. His

fiddle case slides off his back and spills onto the floor.

After the hard landing, the Fiddler looks around at all the
poor Prisoners trapped in their glass cages. They gawk right
back at him.

Then, he sees --

Callahan, on the other side of the room. Callahan squats over

the dead body of the Drifter. Blood drips out of his fanged
mouth. His eyes shine bright yellow. He’s become a full
monster now. Shit.

THE FIDDLER
Huh. Feeder. Flesh-head. Didn’t
think you was real.

Callahan turns his attention to the Fiddler, GROWLING.

THE FIDDLER
But there’s one thing all the
monsters I ever met had in common.
(beat)
They can all be killed.

Fiddler looks to... his fiddle case. He scrambles that way.

 86.

But he can’t make it in time before Callahan springs into the

air and LATCHES ONTO HIM with his sharp claws. Callahan
THROWS him to the other side of the room like a rag doll.

The Fiddler SMASHES into the glass cages, causing a small

ripple of glass.

He staggers to his feet, but Callahan bounds towards him and

leaps onto his back. Callahan GROWLS and DIGS HIS CLAWS into
the Fiddler’s back. His jaws, SNAPPING.

The Fiddler can’t compete with supernatural strength like

this. He’s too strong. Too heavy.

But he uses that to his advantage. He SLAMS BACK on the wall,

using Callahan’s heavy frame to SHATTERING a glass cage.

Play-Thing is free. She springs out and BITES at Callahan’s

ear, TEARING it off the lobe. Callahan gives an inhuman
SHRIEK. Distracted, he turns his attention to her.

The Fiddler scrambles away.

Callahan rips Play-Thing to the ground, GROWLING. SNAPPING.

Ready to make her pay for distracting him.

But just before he can devour her -- a blade SLICES through

his skull. It’s the Fiddler and his bow. His jagged blade.

The Fiddler twists the blade, slicing deep into Callahan’s

brain. When he pulls it out, Callahan slumps down, dead.

The Fiddler takes a second to catch his breath. And then he

looks around the room. At Play-Thing. At some other mangy
Prisoners, now freed by the shattered glass.

THE FIDDLER
This ain’t got nothing to do with
you. So keep your distance, and
I’ll do the same.

Play-Thing keeps her distance. The other freed Prisoners stay

back as well. A truce.

INT. THE POUND - MALEBOLGE ROOM - NIGHT

Liberty saunters through the Malebolge Room, running their

hands over Azlon’s wand.

LIBERTY
Looks like I’m inheriting
everything from Azlon now. His wand
-- and his boy toy.
 87.

Behind Liberty, Malacoda drags Barnaby along. He’s still tied

up like a leashed dog. His wrists are bound with rope.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - NIGHT

Downstairs, the Fiddler has had time to catch his breath. He

cleans the blood and brains off his fiddle bow.

Play-Thing keeps her distance from the Fiddler, but turns

when she hears the door start to unlock.

LIBERTY (O.S.)
Callahan? Are you done, darling?

A snarl from the Prisoners. They’re ready to make Liberty pay

for all the years of abuse.

THE FIDDLER
Go on. Enjoy yourself.

The Fiddler smashes the light, leaving the room pitch black.

Liberty saunters in with Barnaby, oblivious.

LIBERTY
I hope you enjoyed your second
course. Use the fiddle as floss.

The Fiddler slips out the door. He leaves Liberty for the
Play-Thing and the other Prisoners to enjoy.

INT. THE POUND - MALEBOLGE ROOM - NIGHT

With his case on his back and his bow in hand, Fiddler limps
across the stone bridge. Specks of blood trail behind him.

The Service Girls and Boys don’t try to stop him, and when
one accidentally gets in his way, the Fiddler shoves him down
into a sunken booth below.

INT. THE POUND - MIRRORED HALLWAY - NIGHT

The Handmaiden confers with two Tailsmen.

At the other end of the hall, Malacoda guards the hatch. He

hears rumbling from beneath it. The hatch pops open, and the
Fiddler starts to climb out.

The Fiddler looks to Malacoda, and to the two Tailsmen down

the hall. Each of them slides their steel chain belts off.
 88.

Malacoda ATTACKS first and SLASHES at the Fiddler. The

Fiddler catches the chain and uses it to draw Malacoda in.

The Fiddler JAMS his jagged bow deep into Malacoda’s stomach.
Malacoda collapses to the floor in a bloody heap.

The Fiddler glares over to the other two Tailsmen. They hold
up their hands, essentially waving the white flag. The
Fiddler simply walks past them without incident.

Once the Fiddler is out of sight, the Tailsmen tend to the

fallen Malacoda. The Handmaiden rushes to the hatch.

HANDMAIDEN
My liege! I’m coming!

INT. THE POUND - MALEBOLGE ROOM - NIGHT

The Handmaiden rushes down the stone bridge towards the

double-locked door.

Barnaby, still handcuffed, rushes past her. Rather than chase

him, she hurries to the end of the bridge and the double-
locked door, which is open.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - NIGHT

Play-Thing’s laid out by the staircase, dead, but the other

freed Prisoners have their fun with Liberty.

The Prisoners TRASH at her violently. Liberty WAILS in pain

and desperation.

LIBERTY
Help me!!

BY THE DOOR

With the light pouring in, the Handmaiden can see the
gruesome details and hear every scream.

LIBERTY (O.S.)
HELP ME, you FUCKING FUGLY CUNT!!

As the Handmaiden watches, her concern fades into a slight

hint of amusement. She shuts the door and double-locks it.

EXT. DOWNTOWN MORTECITA - NIGHT

The Fiddler marches back through the streets, bloodied. Empty-

handed. He’s still clueless about Barnaby’s whereabouts.
 89.

Behind him, Elena’s car speeds away. Elena is at the wheel,

with an injured Barnaby in the passenger seat.

But with the Fiddler’s back turned, he misses it.

THE FIDDLER (PRE-LAP)

I ain’t found your boy.

EXT. BLACK TOP - DINING CAR - NIGHT

Back at the Black Top circus, a few of the Performers and

Roustabouts stay up late. They smoke. They drink. They
grumble and gossip about the night’s events.

THE FIDDLER (PRE-LAP)

Not yet.

INT. BLACK TOP - DINING CAR - NIGHT

The mood is somber and silent inside the dining car. Azlon
sits alone, with a large bottle of absinthe in front of him.
There’s also a plate of pomegranates, but they’re untouched.

The Fiddler gives him the update in person.

THE FIDDLER
He ain’t at the tattoo parlor. Or
the Pound. Dunno where he went.

Azlon pours himself a generous shot of absinthe.

AZLON
There’s only one other place our
boy could be. The grave of his
beloved Delilah.

THE FIDDLER
You known all along where ‘is
girl’s buried at?

AZLON
You ask as if to doubt me. There is
little in this life that I do not
know.

Azlon downs the shot of absinthe.

AZLON
Your performance is not yet
complete. And neither of our nights
is over yet.
 90.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Desmond, with a chunk of chew under his bottom lip, sits on

his ass and gazes out at the sky. He couldn’t be more bored.

He hears a rumbling engine sound, coming near. He climbs to

his feet to check it out. He spits out his tobacco.

It’s Elena’s car, with a shirtless Barnaby behind the wheel.

Barnaby speeds, swerving out of control. He RAMS into a post.

BY THE POST

Desmond rushes over to the smashed-up car. Smoke pours out.

Barnaby cracks open the door and spills out. He’s a bloody
mess, although most of that damage was done before.

DESMOND
God damn, boy, are you all right?

BARNABY
Been through worse.

Desmond starts to realize that Barnaby’s been through more

than a simple car accident. He’s injured -- and topless.

DESMOND
You realize you ain’t got a shirt,
right?

BARNABY
I don’t need one.

DESMOND
Ahh, gotcha. Popular thing these
days: corpse cunt. Lot of freaks in
this town.

BARNABY
I noticed.

EXT. HIGHWAY I-66 - NIGHT

Doktor Hausler drives the hearse down the highway, heading

for the cemetery.

They pass by a staggering bystander, Elena.

 91.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - EAST HILL - NIGHT

The Riversfield burial grounds are expansive, with several

acres spanning all the way down to an overflowing river.

The grounds are split into several sections. The one Barnaby
walks around in now is one we haven’t seen before.

It seems as though it was gorgeous, at one time. There are

fountains and marble statues of angels that suggest as much.
Only, the fountains have rusted over, and the statues are all
cracked, covered with moss.

Among the statues is a staircase downwards into a man-made

catacomb. It doesn’t look safe to enter, not anymore.

Luckily, Barnaby gets to stay above ground. Although, as a

result of flooding, the ground’s wet and marsh-like. With
every step he takes, his boots sink into the mud below him.

He slogs his way across several tombstones. The statues tower

above him, like titans watching his every move.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - DELILAH’S PLOT - NIGHT

Barnaby stops at a tombstone, labeled with a Latin phrase.

“Non omnis moriar.” This is Delilah.

Barnaby traces his fingers over the lettering. He would cry,

but he knows he still has work to do.

Without the benefit of his shovel, Barnaby has to dig by

hand. He drops to his knees and sinks his hands into the mud,
which is loose and easy to uncover.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Back out front, Desmond digs his hand into the tobacco tin
and shoves more into his mouth. He glances up to the East
hill, where he can barely make out Barnaby’s frantic dig.

He turns away to give the kid some privacy. Seems like the
polite thing to do.

EXT. STREETS OF MORTECITA - NIGHT

The black hearse peels down the street.

 92.

INT. HEARSE - NIGHT

In the back seat, Azlon sits with the Fiddler. Azlon looks
miserable, but the Fiddler’s face is blank, as usual.

THE FIDDLER
When we find your boy, can I kill
‘im? In any way I see fit?

AZLON
That depends. On what he’s done.
What he’s seen. What he knows.

The Fiddler opens his fiddle case and pulls out his bow.

AZLON
If he finds out too much, then he
won’t be my boy Barnaby anymore.

THE FIDDLER
(confused)
Who’s ‘e gonna be?

AZLON
Someone else entirely. Someone like
us.

Azlon watches the Fiddler clean the chunks of blood and flesh
off of his precious bow.

AZLON
Wretched in all our ways.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - DELILAH’S PLOT - NIGHT

Caked in mud, Barnaby scoops out the ground. The flooding

must have shifted the coffin, because he comes upon it only a
few feet deep, half submerged in water.

It’s a struggle to tug the coffin out of the ground, but

Barnaby’s had experience.

He runs his hand over the oak coffin. It’s simple, classic,
strong. No worms or larvae feed on it.

Barnaby pulls Azlon’s wand out of his pant leg. He starts to

tug the coffin cover off.

He’s nervous. His hand trembles. He closes his eyes. When he

opens his eyes, he finds --

Nothing. The coffin is empty.

 93.

Barnaby’s face drops. What little color he had in his cheeks

vanishes.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Barnaby storms towards Desmond, anger on his face.

BARNABY
She’s gone. She’s not here.
Somebody took her!

Desmond, having no clue what Barnaby’s on about, furrows his

brow. He doesn’t even spit out his tobacco.

DESMOND
I have no idea what --

BARNABY
The mud... someone’s been there.
Two years ago. Maybe three.

DESMOND
I don’t know what to tell ya --

Barnaby interrupts again, and even grabs Desmond’s collar. He

might not be a natural bully, but he’s seen enough evil men
to know how to intimidate.

BARNABY
Somebody took her, you fucking --

An engine rumbles in the distance. The sound stops both

Barnaby and Desmond.

They look up the road to see an approaching car. A hearse.

Desmond has no clue what that means, but Barnaby knows all
too well. He bolts. He races to the burial ground, like a
gazelle with a lion on its tail.

INT. HEARSE - NIGHT

Doktor Hausler says nothing as she drives in the front.

THE FIDDLER (V.O.)

Folks need hobbies. Some way to
pass the time. Some way to get
through the dull parts of the day.
Some way to keep the voices at bay.

In the backseat, both Azlon and the Fiddler study the

upcoming burial grounds.
 94.

THE FIDDLER (V.O.)

As a child, I never ‘ad a stamp to
spare. Never saw nothing as fancy
as a model railway.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUND - PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Desmond, clueless, walks over to greet the parked hearse.

Doktor Hausler steps out first.

THE FIDDLER (V.O.)

So for me, only two things work to
keep the voices out: Playin’ me
fiddle...

Doktor Hausler swings open the back door.

The Fiddler bursts out. He’s fury unleashed. He slides his

fiddle case off his back and CRACKS Desmond over the head.

Desmond falls unconscious easily, but the Fiddler doesn’t

care. He rears back, holding the case high over his head, and
brings it down on Desmond’s face again. And again.

THE FIDDLER (V.O.)

And fightin’.

Azlon climbs out of the car and watches the Fiddler work.
Desmond’s face is an explosion of blood, teeth, and tobacco.

AZLON
That’s quite enough. Save some
strength for our boy Barnaby.

Azlon looks towards the East hill. He seems to know

immediately where Barnaby would be.

AZLON
There are plenty of pints of blood
still to be spilled on this night.

The Fiddler smiles. A sick grin.

THE FIDDLER (V.O.)

As far as hobbies go, I’d stack
mine up against any.

FADE OUT.
 95.

A black screen. A title card reads AZLON.

AZLON (V.O.)
I know what you’re thinking, but
I’m not God. I’m greater than God.
I give second chances.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - DELILAH’S PLOT - DAY

Standing next to mounds of dirt, Azlon looks down a grave.

SUPERIMPOSE: “Two years earlier.”

AZLON
And unlike God, I try not to pry in
silly subjects like the state of
your soul.

Azlon offers his hand to the person deep in the grave.

AZLON
I’m simply interested in offering
you this -- a place to call your
home, for the night, and maybe
longer. Will you do me that honor,
my fair Delilah?

In tattered clothes, DELILAH, mid 20s, looks up at him,

completely bewildered. She’s just as Barnaby described --
angelic, with porcelain skin and luscious red hair.

EXT. BLACK TOP - DAY

The hearse returns to the Black Top fields.

Doktor Hausler opens the back door for Azlon and Delilah.
She’s now wrapped tastefully in a blanket.

DELILAH
Is this the afterlife?

AZLON
This is your new life. Same as the
old. Only grander. Because now, I’m
in charge.

EXT. BLACK TOP - DAY

Delilah drifts through the Black Top. The strange faces of

the Roustabouts and Performers study her. Their faces are
gaunt, their eyes are cold. This is hardly a warm welcome.
 96.

Azlon hangs back. He pulls Doktor Hausler aside.

AZLON
Keep the boy occupied. I need an
hour alone with her first.

INT. BLACK TOP - CENTER TENT - DAY

Inside the center tent, Barnaby helps other Roustabouts

construct the stage. He hammers nails into the wood.

Sudsy slips over to him, leaning in to whisper.

SUDSY
Barn, there’s a new girl here.

BARNABY
There’s always a new girl.

SUDSY
She’s awful pretty.

BARNABY
They’re always pretty.

SUDSY
This one must be important too.
Azlon dug her up himself.

Intrigued, Barnaby puts down his hammer. That’s a new one.

EXT. BLACK TOP - CENTER TENT - DAY

Barnaby and Sudsy emerge from the center tent. There’s a

crowd gathered, studying Azlon and the new girl.

Barnaby can barely see anything more than the back of her.
Still, there’s something that strikes a chord with Barnaby.
Something familiar. He squeezes through for a closer look.

Before he can, he’s grabbed -- by Doktor Hausler.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
Azlon has a job for you, boy.

Barnaby seems disappointed. He strains to catch a glance at

the new girl, but Doktor Hausler tugs him away.

EXT. BLACK TOP - DINING CAR - DAY

Doktor Hausler leads Barnaby towards the dining car.

 97.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
You need to throw something out.
And then see Azlon.

BARNABY
What am I supposed to throw out?

DOKTOR HAUSLER
Azlon didn’t care for Hans’ beef
stew last night.

BARNABY
I think it tasted just fine...

DOKTOR HAUSLER
Apparently, Azlon did not.

Doktor Hausler opens the door to the dining car. The cook’s
DEAD BODY tumbles out.

INT. BLACK TOP - AZLON’S TENT - DAY

Azlon makes sure his tent is completely sealed. He doesn’t

want anyone to see what’s going on inside.

With the tent closed, the only light comes from a series of
old-fashioned lamps. Along with vases of flowers, they lead
towards a mountain of white pillows. Delilah sits on top.

AZLON
Now don’t you look lovely, all
cleaned up.

Delilah has been freshly showered, her red hair freshly

curled. She wears a frilly ballroom gown. She’s clearly been
prepared for something.

AZLON
I’m a man of the world, Delilah.
There’s not a day that goes by
where I don’t travel, see new
places, new faces...

Delilah watches Azlon, not knowing what to make of him. As

can be expected, this experience is overwhelming for her.

AZLON
And I dare say, yours is the first
beauty that’s taken my breath away.

Azlon approaches her, almost grazing a hand over her cheek.

She avoids eye contact. She’s afraid.

 98.

DELILAH
What are you going to do to me?

AZLON
There are a thousand things that
I’d like to do to you...

Just before Azlon touches her, he backs away.

AZLON
But each of those would ruin you.
And that wouldn’t be fair of me.
After all, you’re someone else’s.

Azlon smiles warmly. Genuinely. It’s a rare occurrence, but

one that suits him well.

AZLON
I’ve conquered death, and now true
love will as well. I’m reuniting
you with someone who’s missed you
dearly. The love of your life.

Delilah blinks. She arches a brow. She’s not quite sure what
he’s talking about.

DELILAH
Thomas?

Azlon’s friendly smile fades quickly.

DELILAH
William?

It’s a cold stare now.

AZLON
Barnaby. Barnaby James. He worked
on the farm for your father.

Finally a wave of recognition hits Delilah. She nods and

laughs pleasantly. Azlon allows himself to smile again.
Crisis averted.

DELILAH
Oh I remember Barnaby. But the love
of my life? That’s funny.

AZLON
I hardly see the humor.
 99.

DELILAH
Barnaby’s probably the only
farmhand that I didn’t sleep with.
He was a silly, stupid boy.

Azlon’s icy glare returns.

DELILAH
We all used to tease him. Make a
sport of it. I’d have him spend
every penny of his pathetic little
salary to buy me flowers from the
market... just like these.

Delilah leans over to pick up a vase of the flowers. By

shifting, she’s found herself right next to the lamp, casting
a long shadow behind her.

She glances back to Azlon, who hasn’t moved an inch.

DELILAH
He used to write me these, these
long love letters... poems, too.
Terribly misspelled. Like a child.
Every single one talked about how
he wanted to marry me. I used to
show them around, laugh about it.

Delilah laughs at the memory. Azlon does not.

DELILAH
It was funny for a while. Then it
became embarrassing. When I was
engaged to Thomas, he kept writing.
Over and over. I was worried Thomas
might find those letters.

Although he does his best to stay expressionless, there’s a

burning fury deep behind Azlon’s eyes.

DELILAH
I finally told Daddy. He’s the one
who thought we had to do something.
To protect the marriage.

Azlon grips his cane so tightly that his hand trembles.

DELILAH
Daddy knew this man who worked for
the railroads. He said he could
take care of it, so he --

Before she can finish the story, Azlon erupts. HE SLASHES at

her with his cane.
 100.

Delilah screams and holds her hands up to protect herself.

The flower vase drops and shatters in the process.

EXT. BLACK TOP - AZLON’S TENT - DAY

Delilah’s pained SCREAMS ring throughout the Black Top.

A few Performers turn to listen, horrified. They must be the

new ones. The seasoned pros keep moving; they’ve heard it all
before.

EXT. WHEAT FIELDS - DAY

The screaming can even be heard out in the wheat fields,

where Barnaby shovels dirt into a makeshift grave.

Barnaby tries to work, but it’s hard to ignore the tortured

tone in the woman’s voice.

The job’s not entirely done, but he can’t wait any longer. He
slips away to check it out.

EXT. BLACK TOP - AZLON’S TENT - DAY

Barnaby approaches Azlon’s tent. The screams grow fainter.

Just as he gets set to peer inside --

Azlon bursts out. His suit is splattered with fresh blood.

Barnaby backs away. He shuts up. He knows better than to ask

questions when blood’s involved.

BARNABY
Sir... Doktor Hausler told me to
come see you.

AZLON
I made a mistake.

Azlon studies Barnaby’s face. So young, so hopeful. He

doesn’t want to ruin it.

AZLON
It’s not your concern. Tell Doktor
Hausler to bring the hearse around.
I have someone else to see instead.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - DAY

Delilah, now beaten and battered, whimpers on the ground.

 101.

LIBERTY (O.S.)
She’s pretty. Glamorous looking. If
you ignore all the bruises.

She’s being appraised by... Liberty.

Liberty stands with Azlon, looming over her.

AZLON
I want more bruises, not less.

Delilah looks over the glass cases that line the walls. The
Prisoners are different ones, as the turnover rate is
predictably high, but their looks are no less fearful.

AZLON
She does not deserve the dignity of
death. I want you to keep her
alive. Give her to the worst of the
worst. The sickos, even by our
standards. Make. Her. Suffer.

Liberty runs his hand through Delilah’s thick red locks.

LIBERTY
That’s what I do best, darling.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - DELILAH’S CAGE - DAY

Delilah’s shaking hand presses against her new glass prison.

Tears roll down her cheek.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - DELILAH’S CAGE - DAY

Chunks of Delilah’s hair have been ripped out. To go along

with her welts, she has bruises all over her body and a
severe black eye. She knocks on the glass with her hand,
which misses several fingers.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - DELILAH’S CAGE - DAY

The progression worsens for Delilah. She’s more mutilated

than ever. More animal than woman.

She’s virtually unrecognizable. As Delilah, anyway. Now,

she’s Play-Thing.
 102.

EXT. THE POUND - DAY

Azlon exits the Pound and heads to Doktor Hausler, who stands
by the parked hearse.

AZLON
You shall not sniff a word of this
to Barnaby or anybody else. It
would break the poor boy’s heart.

DOKTOR HAUSLER
It’s understood, sir.

Doktor Hausler opens the hearse’s back door for Azlon.

AZLON
I’ll tell him a tale. Our boy, he’s
a dim bulb at best. He’ll never put
the pieces together.

Azlon climbs in the hearse and slams the door closed.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - DELILAH’S PLOT - NIGHT

Replay of earlier scene:

Barnaby tugs off a coffin cover. And finds...

Nothing. The coffin is empty.

Barnaby’s face drops. What little color he had vanishes. The

only movement is the tears, rolling down his cheek.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUND - PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Azlon climbs out of the back of the hearse and stands next to
Doktor Hausler. He watches the Fiddler repeatedly slam his
fiddle case on Desmond’s bloody mess of a face.

AZLON
That’s quite enough. Save some
strength for our boy Barnaby.

The Fiddler stops immediately.

AZLON
There are plenty of pints of blood
still to be spilled on this night.

The Fiddler smiles. A sick grin.

 103.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - EAST HILL - NIGHT

Barnaby hides behind a giant angel statue. He breathes

heavily. He finally gets the courage to peek around the
statue to see who’s coming for him.

While Doktor Hausler and Azlon stay behind with the hearse,
the Fiddler stalks closer. Right towards the same hill.

He knows his hiding spot won’t do. He spots another one --

the catacombs. The staircase leads underground. Perhaps
there’s a tunnel that leads out of the graveyard altogether.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - CATACOMBS - NIGHT

Barnaby stays low, but runs towards the catacombs staircase.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - EAST HILL - NIGHT

The Fiddler searches around the East hill for Barnaby. In the
dark, he can just make out an outline of someone scurry
towards the catacombs. A shirtless boy. Must be Barnaby.

INT. CATACOMBS - ENTRANCE - NIGHT

Although much smaller than the catacombs in Paris, these

catacombs share a similar style. A staircase descends into a
grand chamber, where pillars hold up the ceilings.

Every inch of the walls has been lined with bones and skulls.
They are arranged so delicately that it’s almost artistic.
The bones create an outline of what seems to be the devil.

The chamber is flooded, with icy water that looks black in

this little light. After the staircase, the water starts at
two feet and gets as high as five in the center.

As Barnaby wades through the water, he looks around at the

skulls on the walls. It’s creepy, to say the least, but a
better alternative than enduring Azlon’s wrath.

Barnaby finds that the catacombs are split into four smaller
chambers, labeled such things as the “Chamber of Antenora”
and the “Chamber of Judecca.”

INT. CATACOMBS - CHAMBER OF JUDECCA - NIGHT

Barnaby swims into the Chamber of Judecca. To do so, he

pushes past several skeletal parts and floating fecal matter.
 104.

BY THE ENTRANCE

The Fiddler steps down the staircase. He stops just before

the disgusting lake of water.

He looks around the catacombs for any sign of Barnaby. The

darkness makes it impossible to see much of anything.

THE FIDDLER
No use hiding. It only makes things
more fun for me.

The Fiddler slides his fiddle case off his back.

CHAMBER WALL

Barnaby hides behind the chamber’s wall. To stay out of

sight, he sinks his head low, although he keeps his mouth
above the water level, as it looks sewer level quality.

THE FIDDLER (O.S.)

And if you play nice, Azlon might
bring your fat friend back.

Barnaby manages to stay quiet, even as a skeletal foot

brushes by his chin.

THE FIDDLER (O.S.)

If we can find all ‘is pieces.

BY THE ENTRANCE

The Fiddler opens his case, which has been cracked by now.

THE FIDDLER
Azlon says you ain’t never ‘ad a
daddy. S’why you’re foolish and
can’t follow rules.

The Fiddler pulls out his bow.

THE FIDDLER
‘Fore you go, I’m gonna teach you
somethin’. A song. A lullaby that
my daddy done sung for me.

DEEPER INSIDE

Barnaby pulls a pair of skeletons closer to himself, hoping

he might hide behind them.

The Fiddler’s tune starts. Not a good sign.

MAIN CHAMBER
 105.

The Fiddler wades through the water. He holds his fiddle

above the murky water to play. He sings to match the tune.

THE FIDDLER
Sheep play in the grass so
merrily...

The Fiddler’s voice echoes through the catacomb chambers.

THE FIDDLER
But one ventures off quite
daringly...

DEEPER INSIDE

Barnaby looks around, desperate. There’s nowhere in the

chamber to escape. However, he does still have Azlon’s wand.
He fishes into his pants and pulls it out.

THE FIDDLER (O.S.)

When that sheep gets too far a-
way...

MAIN CHAMBER

The Fiddler passes by the chambers. He still isn’t close

enough to see much of anything, let alone Barnaby.

He hears something -- splashing, coming from the Chamber of

Judecca. He grins.

THE FIDDLER
It’s time for the wolves to play.

He clicks his bow into a jagged blade.

DEEPER INSIDE

The Fiddler heads towards the splashing. He reaches under the

water and rips someone up by the hair.

Only, it’s not Barnaby. It’s a WHITE-HAIRED MAN, resurrected

and doggy paddling for dear life. The Fiddler studies the
scared old man with confusion. Even in this little light,
it’s obvious that he’s got the wrong guy.

The Fiddler hears more splashing and shoots a look over.

BY THE ENTRANCE

The real Barnaby swims frantically for the exit.

BACK WITH FIDDLER

 106.

The Fiddler grits his teeth, angry that he got duped. He

SLICES through the White-Haired Man’s neck.

Satisfied that the White-Haired Man’s dead once again, the

Fiddler swims after Barnaby.

THE FIDDLER
Now you gone and done it, boy-o. I
ain’t gonna be as gentle with you.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - CATACOMBS - NIGHT

A water-logged Barnaby runs up the catacomb steps. There’s no

sign of Azlon anywhere. He sprints for the West hill.

The Fiddler emerges from the catacombs shortly after. He’s

soaked in the black water’s grime and severely ticked off.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - WEST HILL - NIGHT

As he nears the West hill, the Fiddler’s cold eyes shoot

around, looking for signs of Barnaby.

He hears rustling. A young man, by a coffin. Bingo.

He runs full tilt, his boots squishing in the grass.

The Fiddler TACKLES the young man to the ground. They splash
into the mud together.

The young man looks back up, terrified. It’s Jayce. He’s
muddied, and without his shirt or glasses.

JAYCE
I... I’m sorry... I...

THE FIDDLER
It’s time for the wolves to play,
Barnaby.

JAYCE
Barnaby? I’m not Barnaby...

THE FIDDLER
Don’t try to trick me again, boy-o.
I ain’t good with names or faces.
But this I do quite well.

The Fiddler clicks his fiddle bow into the blade again.
 107.

INT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Out front, Azlon waits by the hearse with Doktor Hausler.

They can hear the blood curdling SCREAMS.

This time, Azlon doesn’t appear to enjoy them. He looks away,

disturbed by the sound.

INT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - WEST HILL - NIGHT

Barnaby, laying low about a hundred feet away, cringes at the

sound of Jayce’s screams. The guilt reads on his face, but
he’s not prepared to take Jayce’s place.

INT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Azlon and Doktor Hausler wait by the hearse, somber.

A muddied Fiddler approaches. His bow drips with blood.

THE FIDDLER
Got ‘im. Made a mess.

AZLON
And my wand?

THE FIDDLER
He didn’t have it on ‘im.

AZLON
If he came here to find Delilah, he
brought the wand with him. I’ll
find it myself if I must.

Azlon looks between the Fiddler and Doktor Hausler.

AZLON
Go back to the Black Top. Look
after everyone until I return. It’s
been a long night.

THE FIDDLER
Most fun I ‘ad in ages.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - WEST HILL - NIGHT

Barnaby stays low, too scared to breathe. He finally lets a

breath out when he sees the hearse exit the parking lot.

Just before he stands up, he sees Azlon in the distance. He

drops back to the ground.
 108.

He looks around for help. On this side of the hill, there are
no catacombs to hide in. There’s only muddy grass, and a
river in the distance. That’s his best bet. He crawls slowly
towards the river.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - WEST HILL - NIGHT

With his hands clasped behind his back, Azlon strolls through
the burial grounds. He’s in no hurry. His eyes comb every bit
of the grass for a sign of his wand.

He approaches the freshly dead body.

AZLON
Oh, Barnaby m’boy...

Azlon flips the body over. Even with the eyes gouged out and
the face frozen in fear, he knows it’s not Barnaby.

Azlon snaps to his feet and looks around. Only now, he’s not
looking for the wand.

AZLON
Barnaby? Where are you, boy?

He pulls out his pistol in preparation.

RIVER BANK

Barnaby stays low, but hurries for the river. He limps along,
as he’s been severely beaten up all night.

WEST HILL

Azlon roams the burial grounds, his pace much different than
before. He’s frantic.

He spots a sign of someone in the distance, by the river.

He aims and FIRES. A miss. But that shot speeds up the chase.
Barnaby makes a break for it, and Azlon FIRES again.

This shot RIPS INTO Barnaby’s leg. Barnaby stumbles, but

keeps moving. Keeps limping. He won’t give up after one
gunshot wound.

But he’s slowed down enough for Azlon to square up and FIRE.

A direct hit. The shot blasts into Barnaby’s back, causing

him to stumble and plant face first into the wet ground.

BY BARNABY
 109.

The bullet wounds in Barnaby’s back and leg ooze blood. He

doesn’t bother to escape. He’s too exhausted to try.

Azlon approaches. He crouches down and helps Barnaby turn

onto his back.

AZLON
Oh, Barnaby, look at you... what
happened to that sweet face of
yours?

He examines Barnaby’s various injuries, including the ring of

tattered flesh around his neck.

AZLON
Don’t fight too hard. Don’t hang on
to this life.

Of particular interest to Azlon is his wand, which Barnaby

clutches in his hand. Azlon pries it away.

AZLON
With this, I can bring you back and
see that sweet face again.

Azlon takes a seat on the soggy grass and props Barnaby up on

his lap. He wipes grime and blood from Barnaby’s face.

AZLON
I hope you learned a lesson
tonight. To listen to those who
know better.

BARNABY
All I wanted was Delilah. And you
kept her from me.

AZLON
No, I tried to give her to you,
m’boy. But Delilah wasn’t the girl
you thought she was. She was a
whore in hiding. Happens all the
time with women her age.

Moving a single muscle is difficult for Barnaby, but he

manages to furrow his eyebrows.

BARNABY
What are you talking about?

AZLON
She made a sport of you. A mockery
of your affection.
(MORE)
 110.

AZLON (CONT'D)
And then when she was through, she
conspired to have you killed.

BARNABY
That’s not true...

AZLON
You act as if to doubt me. There is
little in this life that I do not
know.

Barnaby gathers his strength to sit up, to face Azlon.

BARNABY
You’re lying. You’ve lied to me
this entire time.

AZLON
Only to protect you, m’boy. Surely
you can see that now.

BARNABY
Tell me what you did with her.

AZLON
I punished her for what she did to
you. I gave her to a trusted friend
in town. They’ve given her to their
customers. The worst of the worst.

As Azlon continues, tears well up in Barnaby’s eyes.

AZLON
She’s not the Delilah you knew, not
anymore. Her beauty now matches the
interior. A mutilated creature,
locked in a dungeon... Stubs for
fingers, scars for skin...

The description triggers a flash of recognition in Barnaby.

He did encounter Play-Thing in the Pound meat room. He can’t
help the tears from trickling down his cheeks now.

BARNABY
There was a woman... She asked me
to stay...
(horrified)
I pushed her down the stairs...

Barnaby wipes his tears away.

AZLON
Stop your sniveling, boy. It’s
unbecoming.
(MORE)
 111.

AZLON (CONT'D)
If I took the time to mourn every
man I killed, I’d never stop
weeping.

Azlon pries Barnaby’s hand away from his cheek. He wants his
full attention. Full eye contact.

AZLON
You should be grateful that I’m
willing to wipe the slate clean. To
let you come back home.

BARNABY
You don’t want me to work at the
Black Top anymore...

AZLON
Of course I do. I’m not God. I give
second chances.

BARNABY
No, I mean... you don’t want me to
work at the Black Top anymore,
because if I did...
(steely)
I’d kill you in your sleep.

Barnaby’s boldness stuns Azlon for a moment. Azlon has to

look away to collect himself from the sting of it.

AZLON
Don’t look at me like I’m the
devil, boy. You and I, we aren’t so
different after all. In fact, I did
that very thing to the man who ran
the Black Top before me.

Azlon rubs his chin as he recalls it.

AZLON
Only, the things he did to us would
make your night look like a nice
evening out.

He turns back to Barnaby, with a wistful smile.

AZLON
In a way, I’m proud of you, m’boy.
You’ve grown up. Betraying the only
man who’s ever cared about you --
that’s a wholly adult ambition.

Azlon takes a moment to regain his strength. His courage. His

coldness. He presses the pistol under Barnaby’s chin.
 112.

AZLON
Unfortunately, that renders you
rather useless to me.

Barnaby has seen this routine before and knows how it ends.
He realizes that he doesn’t have the strength to fight Azlon
off, so he merely allows his eyes to well up with tears.

BARNABY
Azlon...

AZLON
Yes, m’boy?

BARNABY
Don’t bring me back.

Barnaby’s eyes wander the graveyard. It may be a flooded

swamp of a cemetery, but there’s a charm to its serenity.

Barnaby even notices something in the horizon -- the sun,

peeking out. It’s the first daylight he’s seen in a while,
and he savors the sight.

BARNABY
Let me rest here. Everyone seems so
peaceful.

Azlon looks around, confused, as if the idea of resting in

peace never occurred to him. He doesn’t see whatever Barnaby
does, but he turns back to him with a smile nonetheless.

AZLON
It’ll be hard to find another soul
as sweet as yours, m’boy. An
idealist until the end. Which for
you, has been long overdue.

Azlon has to look away again, but he manages to pull the

trigger. A BLAST. Barnaby’s blood splatters onto his face.

He doesn’t bother to wipe his face. He lets the blood trickle

down his cheeks, in the way that tears would.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - WEST HILL - DAWN

Azlon places Barnaby’s dead body into a coffin. Although it’s

a struggle for him physically, he doesn’t simply dump it
inside. He takes the time to lower it gingerly, with care.
 113.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - WEST HILL - DAWN

The rays of the sun rise over the horizon.

Sweat slides down Azlon’s forehead as he continues his burial

work. His knees dig into the mud as he hovers over a swell of
land that presumably houses Barnaby’s coffin.

He doesn’t have the luxury of a shovel, so he has to cover

the grave with chunks of mud and sod by hand. He pats the mud
down, aiming for it to hold true.

He takes his time. He owes the boy that respect. A fitting

end for the kid. A fitting end to his night.

AZLON
Goodbye, m’boy. My sweet --

ELENA (O.S.)
Baaarrrrnaby...

Azlon stops.

ELENA (O.S.)
Baaarrrrnaby...

Azlon glances back to the hill, where he sees Elena. She

staggers over in his direction.

AZLON
My dear girl, if I were you, I’d
hurry to the exit now. I’m not the
type to appreciate an interruption.

Elena’s eyes run over Azlon. He’s not who she was looking
for, but he’ll do. She stumbles down the hill towards him.

Azlon takes a step back, assessing the threat of this strange

woman. Her yellow eyes and monstrous jaw have faded, but she
still looks troubled. She twitches. She fidgets.

AZLON
You’re not well, are you?

ELENA
No. No, I’m not. I think... I think
I’m lost.

Elena looks around the graveyard with some confusion now, as

if she’s just recovered from a blackout. The sight of her
struggling makes Azlon smile. He steps closer to her.

AZLON
You’re lucky you found me then.
 114.

Elena twists back to Azlon and studies his face. After all
this time looking for God, maybe she’s finally found him.

ELENA
Who are you? Are you --

AZLON
I know what you’re thinking, but
I’m not God.

Azlon holds his hand out to her, offering to help her up.

AZLON
I’m greater than God. I give second
chances.

The words spark recognition in Elena. A second chance is just

what she needs.

She looks up at him, her eyes welling with tears. She takes
his hand and allows him to help her back to her feet.

Azlon fails to notice how bony Elena’s hands are. Or the fact
that they’re starting to resemble claws.

Elena stares at Azlon’s hands. The bloodied tips. That sweet,

sweet blood.

EXT. RIVERSFIELD BURIAL GROUNDS - RIVER BANK - DAWN

We don’t witness what happens next.

But we can hear it. There’s a ferocious GROWL. And then

another.

Something rolls down the hill, leaving a trail of blood

behind it. The object stops at the edge of the river.

It’s Azlon’s wand. And his severed hand attached to it.

FADE OUT.
 115.

EXT. MORTECITA SUBURBS - DAY

Back in the sleepy suburbs, SUBURBANITES pour out of their

homes to work on their lawns and fill up their minivans.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
They call it the “dead” of night.
And when that darkness dies, the
world turns back over to the good
people. The happy people.

EXT. STREETS OF MORTECITA - DAY

On the streets of Mortecita, there’s no sign of the druggies

or degenerates. BUSINESSMEN and WOMEN trot to work.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
The monsters go back to hiding...

They pass by the boarded-up Pound without a second glance.

With its flickering lights turned off and no Bouncers in
sight, the club easily blends into the background.

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - NIGHT

The Bouncers scrub the meat room floor clean of all the blood
and guts leftover from the night before.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
Waiting... and waiting...

The Handmaiden paces back and forth, overseeing them all.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
For they know, that soon enough...

INT. THE POUND - MEAT ROOM - GLASS CAGE - NIGHT

Crammed inside one of the glass cages, Liberty looks

miserable. They’ve been beaten -- battered. One of their ears
has been torn off. The only thing that remains is the hateful
fire in their eyes.

LIBERTY (V.O.)
It will be their turn again.

FADE OUT.