Treatment for Feature Screenplay, 2014
An alleyway, somewhere in the city--
WHAM! A black SUV bashes a trash bin to the wall like a plastic toy. Fluttering just inches from the bumper of the snarling SUV are the heels of a terrified and frantic Roy Baker. Heaving, he glances over his shoulder to see--
A dark passenger emerging from the SUV's window. He levels a gnarled, shoulder-mounted weapon and mashes the trigger. BAM! BAM! BAM!
Searing globules of plasma rip past Roy's head and spatter over the walls of the buildings. He barrels into another alleyway as--
The SUV overshoots the alley's opening and screeches to a halt. The driver slams the transmission into reverse and guns the engine as the SUV's back window issues yet another assailant with a plasma weapon.
Roy careens down the backstreet as the plasma weapon reports behind him. BAM! BAM! BAM! Plasma rounds whip over Roy's shoulder. Moving fast and off-balance, Roy scrabbles for footing when--
CRACK! His shoe finds the hard edge of a wooden pallet, sending him headlong into a pile of boxed trash. His momentum sends a fan of debris into the air as--
A sleek, advanced PDA pops from his hand and bounces over the pavement. It rattles to a halt in the middle of the alley. Suddenly--
Another glowing volley of plasma sizzles through the air above him, battering the falling rubbish in dazzling glops of chunky, molten light. Roy watches, spellbound as the falling debris slows to a stasis, as if caught in liquid.
The PDA blips to life. A glowing-blue holographic A.N.G.E.L. insignia leaps from the screen, as a pleasant voice-codec addresses Roy.
Hello, Roy Baker...
Roy sits amongst the suspended jungle of glowing debris, baffled. Behind him the SUV roars, incoming.
Welcome to the ANGEL Tactical Assist Command Module. If you're currently involved in evasive maneuvers, and need an immediate escape route, please press or say 'yes.'
Roy eeks out an insistent 'yes' as a route illuminates.
Thank you. Please follow highlighted route...
The encroaching screech of the SUV's tires shoot Roy to his feet. He snatches the PDA from the street as the SUV pulverizes the pallet and rips through the suspended jungle of trash.
In 3 yards, please turn left--
Roy slides left, around a corner. Behind him, the howling screech of tires follow, as the SUV rips through the alley after him.
In 4 yards, please go--
Up?! Roy glances to his right--
A gutter pipe climbs a wall, intersecting with a closed fire-escape after 20 feet. With blind faith, Roy leaps for the gutter.
The SUV slides to a halt, and its four dark passengers spill out into the alley. Each wields a stasis gun, only--
They seem to have trouble walking and holding the weapons steady. Or, with coordination in general. Roy disappears over the lip of the building as the Driver reaches for his intercom.
*Blurf! Snurffle ogum-blurf...
On the rooftop--
Roy bounds over the air ducts and heating units. Nearby, the roof-access door blasts open, spilling another dark assault team out onto the roof. *Glarf furggle yarp! They, too have a striking lack of bodily control, allowing Roy the momentary advantage of speed and agility through the swamp of rooftop conduit.
They flail and stumble after Roy, unholstering their stasis-weapons as--
Breathless, Roy slides to a halt at the edge of the building. Heart in his throat, Roy leans from the building's retainer wall and eyes the dizzying fall to the street below; a warbled squeal of tires announce the black SUV's arrival as--
Roy watches the SUV slide to a halt. The dark passengers pour out of the vehicle, and look to the building's roof above as--
Roy whips around to the clatter of weapons and boots. The dark assault squad stumbles from behind another roof-access structure and raises their weapons. He's trapped: no way down, and no way around. His eyes fall on the rooftop adjacent, separated by an alleyway. Roy swallows hard--
The dark goons raise their weapons as--
Roy jumps onto the ledge. He darts to the edge of the building as the first volley of searing plasma skins his neck. With decimated concentration, coupled with the horror of jumping off a building--
Roy stumbles and mismanages his jump. He lunges--or tumbles--over the edge of the roof. We cut to:
A grand courtroom--
You what?! Half-smiling, a Supreme Justice Elect leans from his bench, eyeing Roy in the witness stand. Roy gives a sheepish smile--
I...I fell off the roof.
The Justice raises an eyebrow. Yet, here you sit with that absurd tie.
Roy glances to the Bench of Defense where the hapless Burt Weatherbee, Guardian ANGEL, bleeds out a sheepish smile and slouches down into his chair. Just behind him in the crowded courtroom sits--
A lovely and glowing Rachel Pearson. Loyal, intelligent and quick-as-a-whip, Rachel nods her support to Roy.
The Justice leans back in his chair, clearing his throat. Well?
Roy stares blankly at the Justice.
The roof, Mr. Baker. You were falling off the roof.
Roy nods. Oh, yes. Sorry--
Roy lunges--or tumbles--over the edge of the roof as--
Another volley of plasma spatters the retainer wall and Roy's flailing body with plasma.
FOOM! Stasis takes hold, arresting Roy's fall.
As the dark Assault team advances, the leader smiles. Clutched in Roy's outstretched hand, is the PDA. It chirps a warning in Roy's frozen fingers.
Proximity alert. Please be advised...Just as the Leader reaches out for it--
TWEEEEET! The piercing trill of a whistle cuts through the air. The team turns, finding--
Burt Weatherbee, whistle in his mouth. TWEEEET! He blows his whistle again, and lifts a document, shivering, to the dark Assault team.
The Assault team slowly turn their weapons on Burt and look to their leader. The leader motions to hold fire as--
Burt advances, holding the document up almost as a shield. He reaches the team leader, who--
Pulls the document from Burt's outstretched hand. As the team leader reviews the document, Burt steals a glimpse to Roy, still suspended in open air over the alley. Roy grunts insistently as he eyes the Dark Ops team--
The Team Leader turns to his team and huffs in exasperation. He safeties his weapon and waves down the rest of his team. Growling, the Assault team follows suit. As they stand-down--
The Leader glimpses one of his team members slide the PDA into his satchel. The two exchange a knowing smile as--
The Leader turns his gaze back to Burt, who desperately tries to steady his nervous face. With a devilish smirk, the Team Leader mashes a button on his wrist and vaporizes into thin air. The rest of the team follow.
Burt breathes a sigh of relief, and dives into a Spec-Ops briefcase. He whips out a pair of poly-insulated gloves and hustles to the edge of the building.
Roy watches, frozen, as Burt stretches out for him. Don't worry. I gotcha, buddy...quickly, Burt steals a glance to the street below, where--
The Driver of the SUV and its team glare up at Burt and Roy. With a snarl, the Driver and his SUV vaporize into thin air.
Burt grabs Roy's leg and pulls him weightlessly back to safety; the glowing goop sizzles against the gloves. Okay, bud. Let's get rid of that stasis wrap.
Burt places Roy on the roof, and blasts him with a torrent of whipped foam. The stasis wrap dissolves, and Roy leaps to his feet, dripping and horrified.
Who--? Roy stuggles for breath--Who are you?!
Burt takes a breath and plops down on an exposed air duct.
I never actually got to thank you.
Roy gasps for breath, questions swirling in his head.
Thank me for what, exactly?
For saving my life. He stands and awkwardly extends a hand. I'm Burt. Burt Weatherbee. I'm your guardian angel.
Roy stands, speechless.
Burt waits, arm outstretched, for some kind of response. But, nothing happens. Finally--
Roy takes a breath.
Sorry, you're my what?
The grand courtroom--
The court sits in stunned silence, all eyes on Burt and Roy. The Justice clears his throat--You were approached by your guardian, who I may remind--he turns to a cowering Burt--is required under article 6 of the Administrative Nexus to remain covert and anonymous--he turns to a flushed Roy--and you were thanked for--?
Roy nods. Saving his life, yes.
Slowly, the Justice leans forward--
Mr. Baker, I believe we need to start at the beginning...