MARCH 23, 2013 | 1:10pm -
INT. SLATER'S MECHANICAL WORKS - OFFICE. DAY.Lucian Slater sits at his desk over a strewn-out pile of papers. Impeccably dressed in a comfortable pair of black denim pants, a brown loose linen shirt, and stylish, polished brown boots. His eyes skim over the figures on the paper. Schematics for a competitor's showcase, and a meal ticket into more successful ventures.
Sitting before his desk, is a pixie of a man, with skin like mocha and eyes as brown as honey. Deacon Lancaster dons his low-cut curly hair that contrasts the fairness of his brown skin. The epitom
MARCH 20, 2013 | 7:53pmEXT. KINGSTON, JAMAICA.REID VILLAGE JERK CENTER-LAWN.NIGHT.The night dazzles with blinking, rampant stars filling a cloudless sky as Halo emerges from the driver's seat of a rundownTOYOTA CAMRY. The door creaks shut and Halo glances across the street. Ignoring the hubbub or patrons, enjoying the festivities of food on grills and other amenities under high, colourful tents.His simple attire of jeans, t-shirt and old rebooks cast a different shade. Though it takes nothing away from his startling, good looks, and roughneck swagger. Vastly different from his usual polished look, and everyday charm.Halo takes in the activities, the so
MARCH23, 2013 | 1:20pm-INT.DEWITT DRIVE. CHUCK RESIDENCE -LIVINGROOM.DAY.LUCIANsits in the comfortable ambience, within the moderate, square living room with matching antique furniture. The seating is cushioned, the floor carpeted, and the walls papered. Light is provided by wall lamps that make the bird theme shine, in light colours and the overall quirky look. Among the first things one notices walking in is an unusual sculpture and photographs of Chuck and Lucian through their years of friendship, on an end table.Lucian looks up whenMargaret Chuck, Lucas's grandmother. A maternalistic sixty-one-year-old woman with chestnut brown eyes, a flawless complexion, and wavy dark hair pinned neatly back. She is a little short and frail, for she uses an old, sturdy woo
MARCH 23,2013| 1:25am—INT. EURO CREEK.BATHURST ISLAND, AUSTRALIA -CARGO PLANE CABIN.NIGHT.—HALOsits in the simple, six-seat cabin, tightening the straps of his tactical boots with traditional mesh lining and nylon arch shanks. He then slides on a tactical vest with a wide neck opening that sits snug against his Kevlar undershirt. Small lights and panels flicker, as it automatically tightens.At the helm of the plane, sits Calum Beauchamp, sporting matching gear. Gloved arms clutching the circular yolk. Calum glances back at Halo and engages the autopilot and unclamps the protective belts around his chest. He stands, ducking under the bow to enter the cabin. Halo doesn't acknowledge him, but he tosses over a thin tablet device that he captures without
MARCH 23,2013|1:32am—INT. EURO CREEK.BATHURST ISLAND, AUSTRALIA. HIDDEN RESERVE -CABIN.NIGHT.Ali Batam(In Modern Arabic):How many did we lose?Mercenary One(In Modern Arabic):If we do not move soon, we might lose one.Mercenary Two(In Modern Arabic):Snakebite, Commander. Baby Simalia Kinghorne. The poison is weak, so it will take two days to kill her if we do not make the transport.Ali Batam(In Modern Arabic):Round them up. There is a transport trawler waiting by the creek.The two men give each other unseen glances, and Ali chuckles.He then turn
MARCH 15, 2013 | 2:25 pm —INT. CARLTON BLACK PREPARATORY - CLASSROOM. DAY. Halo Noel:Ok little ones, make sure you pack up all your books and stationery before leaving. Halo Noel, the petite, and boyishly handsome teacher announces a dismissal to his group of thirty-or-so second-year class in his thick European accent. He wears a cream button-down, beneath a notched-lapel jacket in a muted grey with, chinos of the same colour, and polished, ankle-high boots. A modest, powerful outfit that sits on his toned frame flawlessly and punctuates his clean, polished look. His subtle Arabic features are set like a sculpture under the glowing lights of the classroom, and the sun makes a slow descent beyond the hills. His curly, unkempt hair is mysterious in its effortless beauty and is a raven bundle of strands piled atop his head in a beautiful, mop-like mess. It contrasts his pale-ivory complexion, his steely grey eyes and freckles that dust his nose and cheeks like a drizzle of cinnamon
MARCH 18, 2013 | 10:24amINT. SLATER's MECHANICAL WORKS - OFFICE. DAYBEA LARSON steps into Lucian's office, eyeing him with something like amusement and respect in her eyes.- Even despite the burning feeling of annoyance she feels inside.Bea Larson:I must ask.She walks to his desk eyeing the neat room, then the neat man. She sits on the couch, making a noisy squeal resonate across the office.Bea Larson:Why?He looks out the window, then peers at her with a risen eyebrow.Lucian Slater:You seem like a smart woman. You tell me why I'm hesitant to accept your business.He averts his gaze, still rifling through the drawers. Cursing inaudibly as his eyebrows knit together to give away his frustration.Lucian Slater (Whispering):Where is that goddamn check?!He shakes his head, stands up straight, and places his left hand akimbo.Bea Larson:Your partner isn't too pleased.She motions to the loud clanging on metal outside the office.Lucian Slater:He'll be fine. This is what's best
MARCH 19, 2013 | 2:34am —INT. THE GALLIVANT INN - PENTHOUSE SUITE. NIGHT.From the sparkling glow of her twelfth floor, hotel room view, BEA LARSON loosens her black, skin-tight dress. She watches the night with a subtle, unreadable glance. Sighing in discontent Once off, she tosses the light piece of fabric atop a chair with padded, floral handles that protrude from each side.She glances over at the safe, open, empty. She grimaces but has no time to ponder the outcome of her naïveté for her smartphone vibrates. She walks to the bed, picking it up—displeased when it displays the name DETECTIVE DICK. She answers with a grimace.Bea Larson:I don't have it yet.Detective Dick:You promised me intelligence, Larson. That son of a bitch needs to be locked behind bars.Bea Larson:Don't you think I know that?Detective Dick:Give me the safe. My guys will crack it in a day.Bea Larson:In case you forgot, I don't owe you shit.Detective Dick:And let me remind you that your father is behin
MARCH 22, 2013. | 10:23am —EXT. FOREMAN PARK. STONE BRIDGE. DAY.Drake Moros:Bea Larson, twenty-nine years old.Standing over the cadaver is a bald, chubby Dr Drake Moros, with tan skin, a thuggish feel about him, and soft black eyes.Nathan peers at the pale corpse, half-covered by a body bag. Revealing Bea's chest, ravaged by sharp rocks from the stream it was found in.Nathan takes a second to gaze around the surroundings, minutely distracted by the overhang of trees. The steady trickle of the stream grew loud, but he brushes it off. Watching with narrowed eyes, as Officers in their uniforms case the area in their flurry of investigation.The audible swish and pitter-patter of the torrent move below the old, yet sturdy bridge erected as a landmark at least centuries before their existence. A wide trail carpeted with asphalt and shaded by a large concentration of trees. Lilly-white blooms dip to the ground with the smooth brush of the wind, with a peace disturbed by his intrusion.
MARCH 23,2013|1:32am—INT. EURO CREEK.BATHURST ISLAND, AUSTRALIA. HIDDEN RESERVE -CABIN.NIGHT.Ali Batam(In Modern Arabic):How many did we lose?Mercenary One(In Modern Arabic):If we do not move soon, we might lose one.Mercenary Two(In Modern Arabic):Snakebite, Commander. Baby Simalia Kinghorne. The poison is weak, so it will take two days to kill her if we do not make the transport.Ali Batam(In Modern Arabic):Round them up. There is a transport trawler waiting by the creek.The two men give each other unseen glances, and Ali chuckles.He then turn
MARCH 23,2013| 1:25am—INT. EURO CREEK.BATHURST ISLAND, AUSTRALIA -CARGO PLANE CABIN.NIGHT.—HALOsits in the simple, six-seat cabin, tightening the straps of his tactical boots with traditional mesh lining and nylon arch shanks. He then slides on a tactical vest with a wide neck opening that sits snug against his Kevlar undershirt. Small lights and panels flicker, as it automatically tightens.At the helm of the plane, sits Calum Beauchamp, sporting matching gear. Gloved arms clutching the circular yolk. Calum glances back at Halo and engages the autopilot and unclamps the protective belts around his chest. He stands, ducking under the bow to enter the cabin. Halo doesn't acknowledge him, but he tosses over a thin tablet device that he captures without
MARCH23, 2013 | 1:20pm-INT.DEWITT DRIVE. CHUCK RESIDENCE -LIVINGROOM.DAY.LUCIANsits in the comfortable ambience, within the moderate, square living room with matching antique furniture. The seating is cushioned, the floor carpeted, and the walls papered. Light is provided by wall lamps that make the bird theme shine, in light colours and the overall quirky look. Among the first things one notices walking in is an unusual sculpture and photographs of Chuck and Lucian through their years of friendship, on an end table.Lucian looks up whenMargaret Chuck, Lucas's grandmother. A maternalistic sixty-one-year-old woman with chestnut brown eyes, a flawless complexion, and wavy dark hair pinned neatly back. She is a little short and frail, for she uses an old, sturdy woo
MARCH 20, 2013 | 7:53pmEXT. KINGSTON, JAMAICA.REID VILLAGE JERK CENTER-LAWN.NIGHT.The night dazzles with blinking, rampant stars filling a cloudless sky as Halo emerges from the driver's seat of a rundownTOYOTA CAMRY. The door creaks shut and Halo glances across the street. Ignoring the hubbub or patrons, enjoying the festivities of food on grills and other amenities under high, colourful tents.His simple attire of jeans, t-shirt and old rebooks cast a different shade. Though it takes nothing away from his startling, good looks, and roughneck swagger. Vastly different from his usual polished look, and everyday charm.Halo takes in the activities, the so
MARCH23, 2013 | 1:10pm-INT.SLATER'S MECHANICAL WORKS-OFFICE.DAY.Lucian Slater sits at his desk over a strewn-out pile of papers. Impeccably dressed in a comfortable pair of black denim pants, a brown loose linen shirt, and stylish, polished brown boots. His eyes skim over the figures on the paper. Schematics for a competitor's showcase, and a meal ticket into more successful ventures.Sitting before his desk, is a pixie of a man, with skin like mocha and eyes as brown as honey. Deacon Lancaster dons his low-cut curly hair that contrasts the fairness of his brown skin. The epitom
MARCH 23,2013|1:32am—INT. EURO CREEK.BATHURST ISLAND, AUSTRALIA.HIDDEN RESERVE.NIGHT.In a closed-off quad, hidden under a dense canopy of trees, a campground glistens under the orange lights of fluorescent lightbulbs. Strewn about on dried out branches, and erected beams made from thick bamboo. They are reinforced by rocks and anchors of smaller wood nailed around their legs.The canopy of thick trees provide cover, and the remote location ensures no locals intervene. Though the noise from the three strategically placed generators leaves much to fear in such a place.
MARCH 19, 2013 | 2:34am —EXT. THEGALLIVANTINN -PENTHOUSE SUITE.NIGHT.From the sparkling glow of her twelfth floor, hotel room view,BEA LARSONloosens her black, skin-tight dress. She watches the night with a subtle, unreadable glance. Sighing in discontent Once off, she tosses the light piece of fabric atop a chair with padded, floral handles that protrude from each side.She glances over at the safe, open, empty. She grimaces but has no time to ponder the outcome of her naïveté for her smartphone vibrates. She walks to the bed, picking it up—displeased when it displays the nameDETECTIVE DICK. She answer
MARCH 18, 2013 | 8:36pm-INT.THE GALIVANT INN-PENTHOUSESUITE.NIGHT.— BEA LARSONsits in the luxurious penthouse with a planed glass wall, which displays a resplendent view of Boston. She lathers her leg with fragrant moisturizer. Every sinuous movement of her hand almost seductive. Across the edge of the bed, Chuck sits in one of the two cushioned chairs that flank an ornate glass table. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he tries to keep his eyes focused on his laptop. Running algorithms, and slowly cracking his way through lines of
APRIL 11, 2013. | 5:21pm —INT. ARLAN HOUSE - STORROW LAGOON - NOEL RESIDENCE. KITCHEN. DAY.JESSIE skips into the room, where Halo dices onions. Eyes red with tears not wrought by the onions, for he sniffles quietly.Jessie Lio:Mr Noel?Halo wipes at his face then turns around with a plastered on smile.Halo Noel:Jessie. Hello, laddy. What's the matter?Jessie Lio:Are you sad?Halo stares at the boy, speechless.Jessie Lio:Is it because my brother kept you up all night?Halo Noel:Oh, god no, Jessie. It is merely the onions causing an um.. reaction in my eyes, so stay where you are if you do not want to face this same... dilemma...He lets out a forced laugh, but the boy does not seem too convinced.Jessie Lio:You promised to be honest with me when you're upset!The outburst makes Halo recoil.Halo Noel:Jessie-.Jessie Lio:I knew my mother wasn't ok, but she always told me she was. Why does everyone keep lying to me?Tears well up in Jessie's eyes, and Halo rounds the island to