WET WORK

Written by Craig McInnes

FADE IN: INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT Thirty-something LAUREL HARRIS is bound securely to a chair. Dirty blonde- her once beautiful face bruised, cut-up and bleeding. Gagged with a dirty rag, she SOBS and SNIFFLES. A closer look reveals that her arms are tied facing downwardher wrists steadily PUMPING blood into a large plastic container. Sitting on a couch nearby, and casually draining a beer is JOE. Mid forties. Ex-Mob Enforcer. A hard face, with soft eyes. Unshaven, sweaty and beyond tipsy, Joe watches a football game through one eye- occasionally glancing over at Laurel. Unfazed. A WHISTLE blows indicating a stoppage in play. Game over. The Woman is pale. Her breath shallows. Drowsy red eyes roll back as life escapes her- a feeble last breath WHEEZES out. FREEZE FRAME ON HER FACE. JOE(V.O) Okay. I know what it looks like. I do. Oh, its some weirdo, cutting up some blonde. And youre right, I am a weirdo- dont get me wrong. I dont like killing people. But Im good at it. And... Its part of the job. FRAME CONTINUES. The Womans head slumps forward. Joe sucks the bottle dry, and turns off the television. He tosses the bottle carelessly, and hauls himself up wearily- joints CRACKING. The floor is covered in plastic sheeting- it CRACKLES under Joe as he swaggers over to her. Joe Burps. Leaning in with one eye closed, he stares at the Woman for a moment- his face half guilty, the other relieved for her. He lightly smacks her face to check her response, then checks her carotid pulse. Nothing.

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JOE(V.O) Meet Laurel Harris, 32 from Colorado. Cheated on her husband, gave him Herpes, left him andexcuse the pun- bled him for every penny he had. With little effort, Joe unties Laurel and DUMPS her into a blue plastic barrel. He POURS blood onto her, grimacing. And using a dropper, Joe puts one blood drop on top of the lid, and sets it aside. He carefully folds the plastic sheet up and then seals the barrel. INT. APARTMENT KITCHEN - DAY - FLASHBACK A thirty-something HUSBAND sobs over piles of bills on a messy counter. They read FINAL NOTICE, in red. He is pale. Scruffy. At his wits end. He SCREAMS in rage, throwing a freshly emptied whiskey bottle out the window. Glass SHATTERS, and we hear HORNS and traffic SCREECHING outside. The breeze tickles his hair- calming like a mothers touch. He sees salvation outside. Escape. JOE(V.O) The husband cant pay her bills and his. Not in this economy. And he has Herpes to boot. Hell, I would have done the same thing. She bled him dry, and I... well- you get the idea. EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING ROOFTOP - DAY - FLASHBACK Knees wobbling and wind giving encouragement, the Husband steps off the ledge into New York traffic. We hear the CRUMPLING THUD of his body, followed by HORNS, SCREAMS and SCREECHING brakes. INT. LAURELS APARTMENT - NIGHT - PRESENT Joe has cleaned up, and is now wearing a pair of blue coveralls. There is a badge reading NY Pool Company on it. Using a dolly, he loads up the barrel and exits the apartment.

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EXT. STATELY SOHO HOME - NIGHT Joe wheels the dolly up to the front of a modern, upscale home with an outdoor pool. He RINGS the doorbell. He waits merrily, whistling Dirty Deeds, done for cheap by ACDC. The door opens, and a bespectacled ELDERLY WOMAN in a house coat sneers at him. WOMAN What do you want? Its late! Joe tips his hat, smiles warmly, then produces a clipboard with a bill of lading on it. JOE Good evening, Maam. Im with the New York Pool Company. I have a delivery of Chlorine treatment that was ordered to this address. In an unnaturally fast motion, Joe turns his clipboard for the Woman to inspect. She looks at the barrel, and SNIFFS the air in an animalistic fashion. She closes her eyes and groans sensually. Eyes open, she glares at Joe- her eyes black as tar. Her voice deepens, and ECHOES with a sinister whisper. ELDERLY WOMAN Who sent you, Joe? Is this some kind of trick? Joe sighs. The Woman looks at the barrel, licking her lips. Her forked tongue lashes her face as it retracts. Joe looks over his shoulders suspiciously. JOE Look, can we do this inside? I know who you are, and you know who I am. So, enough with the bull shit, okay? The Woman SLAMS the door shut. Joe waits. Silence for a moment. A chain lock SLIDES back. The door CREAKS open, but no-one is there. The house interior is pitch black. Her voice is a sinister whisper. ELDERLY WOMAN(O.S) Come in, sonny...

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Joe wrangles the dolly and barrel into the apartment, and closes the door behind him. INT. STATELY SOHO HOME - NIGHT. Joe stands in the darkness patiently. He shows no sign of fear. JOE Mind if I smoke? Silence. ELDERLY WOMAN Me Casa... Su Casa... A Zippo flame flickers in the dark and SNAPS shut. Darkness. The red tip of a cigarette bobs in the black. JOE Okay... You got me. Why are the lights out? A pause. ELDERLY WOMAN Whats the matter, are you scared? JOE No, not really. I can see fine. You cant hurt me. And I cant hurt you. Another pause. The lights come on in a FLASH. Joe covers his eyes, partially blinded. The Woman is a DEMON- face cracked and twisted with rot, her hair serpentine. She SNARLS, jagged teeth inches from Joe. DEMON Then whats your angle?! Joe slowly puts his half-cigarette away into a cigarette saver and SIGHS out his lung full of smoke. He is serene. He makes a show of wiping spit from his face. JOE (Sincere, and talking with hands) I figured we could help each other out. I have this mess that needs cleaning up. (Grins charmingly) And you... You like messes, right? The Demon floats around Joe, her shape changing- becoming youthful.

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She caresses her curves and thighs, MOANING seductively as a coil of dark vapor surrounds Joe. The Demon squeezes Joes shoulders from behind and whispers into his ear. DEMON Arent you the least bit afraid, Joe? Horny? (Squeezing Joes shoulders and moaning) Both? Joe sighs, almost totally disgusted. Almost. He brushes the Demon off. She chuckles, floats past him and faces him, hovering. Demon Ive always wanted to know what you looked like. Word is that youre quite the agent. Joe bows humbly and grins. JOE I do what I can for the administration. If you can get past the politics, the job aint bad. The Demon lights up a smoke and takes a drag. DEMON So, Joe. To what do I owe this pleasure? Joe points to the barrel and shrugs dismissively. JOE Its part of the gig. My client wants the blood of his, and I quote: cheating whore of a wife to be drank by a demon. (Pointing at the Demon) Thats you. The Demon chuckles, HISSING. DEMON Call me Trixie. I like it. Trixie floats around the barrel, coiling around it like a smoky boa. She SNIFFS the rim, MOANING on the exhale. Trixie What did she do to him?

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Joe POPS the lid off the barrel, and gently places it on the floor. Trixie SWOOPS over it, peering inside. Laurel is folded neatly inside, covered in blood. JOE She did some bad things. Personally, Im not sure she deserved this- but hey, who am I to judge? Trixie laughs. Her face is more youthful and beautiful. Her eyes are no longer black, but green, and her hair is luscious and copper. She licks her lips seductively. TRIXIE I love the taste of revenge! I bet she tastes like candy! Trixie puts her hand on the barrel. Joe stops her, holding out the form on the clipboard to her chest. He smiles. JOE Ah-ah-ah... You have to sign for it first. Rules are rules. The man downstairs will have a shit fit if he doesnt get a signature. You know how he is... Trixie laughs heartily. TRIXIE The client sold his soul to watch her get murdered? JOE Something like that. Trixie holds out her hand for a pen. Joe obliges. Trixie signs on the line. Joe snaps his fingers. The clipboard disappears in a flash of red flame. Joe bows like a waiter and takes his hand off the barrel. JOE Bon appetit. Trixie WAILS, and corkscrews into the barrel, turning into vapor. Joe lights his half cigarette and walks around the apartment. We hear Trixie SLURP as she feeds. JOE Hey Trixie, you got any beer?

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TRIXIE Its in the fridge. Help yourself! Mmm! She is delicious! Joe walks to the kitchen and grabs a beer from the fridge. He swigs it, and looks at the barrel shaking violently. Blood GLOOPS over the sides. Joe laughs. JOE Hey, mind Your shit youre making a mess. Do you if I put the lid on? hardwood floor is taking a kicking...

Trixie SLURPS, speaking with her mouth full. TRIXIE Go ahead. And quit talking! Youre killing my buzz! JOE (Hands out apologetically) Sorry. Joe walks over to the barrel and picks the lid up. He makes sure Trixie cant see its underside. A demon trap is painted on it. FREEZE FRAME. JOE(V.O) See this thing? The star symbol with shit in it? Its a trap. Like a mouse trap, only for things that eat humans and souls instead of cheese. Effective too, especially when its made out of salt- like this one. Double-sided tape and salt. Crazy, aint it? Thanks, KMart. FRAME CONTINUES. Joe puts the lid on, and seals the container. Trixie screams loudly. The barrel ROCKS from side to side. TRIXIE(O.C. In Barrel) You lying piece of shit! I knew this was too good to be true! Joe taps the side of the barrel, snickering.

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JOE You said it yourself, its late. Keep it down in there. Or Ill lose my temper. Trixie falls silent. Joe lights a new smoke, and leans against the barrel. JOE You see, Trixie. I know a few things... Trixie SNARLS. TRIXIE You dont know dick! Joe takes a drag from his smoke, chases it with beer. JOE (Exhaling) I know you were inside Laurel. Werent you? INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY - FLASHBACK JOE(V.O) John, that poor bastard. You gave him Herpes. Laurel is naked, riding a young man savagely. He squeezes her perky breasts. She laughs, MOANING in ecstasy. INT. CARTIER DIAMONDS OUTLET - DAY - FLASHBACK JOE(V.O) Then, you went shopping. Maxed out his credit. Drained his accounts. Laurel looks down at a diamond ring. It catches the light. She is carrying numerous bags of expensive brands, smiling. INT. COURTROOM - DAY - FLASHBACK Laurel is sitting with a lawyer on one side. Her Husband sits across on the other with a lawyer, depressed and astounded. A JUDGE is giving a verdict angrily, but we do not hear it. The gavel SLAMS down. The Husbands head sinks.

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INT. STATELY SOHO HOME - NIGHT - PRESENT JOE kicks the barrel. It shakes. Trixie yelps. JOE It was you. Wasnt it? Trixie chuckles inside the barrel. On a dime, she turns hostile, SNARLING. TRIXIE You cant prove it! Joe takes a drag from his smoke. Exhales. He walks to the kitchen and RUMMAGES through the cupboards, coming back with a salt shaker. He unscrews the lid. JOE Tell me... Joe opens the bung on the barrel lid and pours a stream of salt into it. He is smiling. FREEZE FRAME JOE(V.O) See that smile on my face? Thats happiness. In my line of work, it comes rarely. So when I get it, I cherish the moment. FRAME CONTINUES The salt hits Trixie. She WAILS in agony, then GROWLS. Joe grins playfully. JOE Tell me... I know it was you... He pours more salt in. Trixie GROWLS. TRIXIE So what if I did?! You cant do anything to me! (Yelling) So let me out of here! Joe looks the shaker: empty. He tosses it over his shoulder and peers into the barrel. JOE You see... Thats not true. That document you signed... The man downstairs had it drafted up. (MORE)

10. (CONT'D) Being as I am bound by contractual agreement to give full disclosure, here it is: The client sold his soul to the man downstairs: True. The deal was to have someone kill his wife. (Pointing to himself) Thats me. But I did some legwork, asked around. Wasnt that hard, really. Anyway, it turns out that a demon was behind it all.

Joe TAPS on the lid. JOE Thats you, Trixie. And you signed the confession. Trixie SNARLS loudly, shaking the barrel. But it does not tip. TRIXIE Youre dead, Joe! You piece of shit drunk! Youre dead! When I get outJoe chuckles, TAPPING the barrel mockingly. Using a crowbar, Joe swings at the barrel and punctures it in several spots. He talks as he does this. JOE There is no out for you. But I do know this: you caused a man to kill himself, then sell his soul for revenge- for shit that you pulled... Mildly out of breath, Joe tosses the crowbar aside and takes a long drag from his smoke. Exhales. Trixie pokes her fingers through the holes, feebly trying the tear it open. JOE Now he is down two new members... So to speak. But hes into details, so hell probably explain it better. Joe STOMPS out his smoke and puts the bung into the barrel. He heaves it up onto the dolly and takes it outside, WHISTLING merrily.

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EXT. DRIVEWAY TO STATELY SOHO HOUSE - NIGHT. Joe loads up the barrel into a white van with New York Pool Company on the side of it. He secures it down with a ratchet strap. TRIXIE Why would he care if I made some bitch sleep around?! Joe lights another cigarette. The smoke makes him wince, and he smirks. JOE For an immortal, you arent very smart. Free will, Dummy. We cant get in the way. They choose their fate. Not us. We had our time. TRIXIE We?! We?! Im not like you! Youre not one of us! Youre nothing but a drunk! You hear me?! A drunk! Trixie HAMMERS on the barrel. It THUDS, but doesnt move. Joe laughs and SLAMS the van door shut. INT. VAN - NIGHT Joe buckles up. He adjusts the mirror so he has full view of the barrel. But the angle is set so we do not see his reflection. Joe reaches into the glove box and pulls out a mickey of whiskey encased in a brown bag. He takes a deep swig, then puts it away. He looks at the clock on the dash: 9:31. JOE (V.O) Im a drunk, sure. But I play by the rules. And the rules are simple: inhabit, live. Coexist. TRIXIE Typical Administration talk! Those days are gone, Joe. Wake up! Oh, I cant wait for AzTrixie falls silent. She knows she made a mistake. Joe smiles into the mirror. JOE See? I had a feeling you were going to say something stupid. Silence. Joe peers into the mirror. The barrel is silent.

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JOE Nothing to say, huh? Dont worry, youll tell us what we want to know soon enough. Silence from Trixie once more. JOE Do you like music? I love music. Here is one of my favorites. Joe CLICKS on a CD player and cranks the volume up. Handel Messiah Chorus BLASTS over the speakers. Trixie WAILS and Joe laughs. Joe conducts an invisible orchestra on his dash, then puts the van in gear and pulls out onto the street. EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT We see the van driving at break neck speed on icy roads. It swerves in and out of traffic. Music BLARING. INT. VAN - NIGHT Joe glances at the clock: 9:35. He sees water up ahead as they head to a bridge. Joe breathes heavily as he fumbles in the passenger seat. He picks up a pair of handcuffs. With a SNAP, he cuffs himself to the steering wheel. Behind him, Trixie POUNDS on the barrel, SCREAMING. Music at full chorus: Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Now on the bridge, Joe holds his breath and clenches his jaw. Time slows. Joe (V.O) I hate this part. You never get used to it. Joe cranks the steering wheel hard to the left. EXT. VAN ON FREEWAY - NIGHT We see the van lose control, SMASHING into nearby vehicles. The back end kicks out. The van CRUMPLES through the barricade and over the edge. Traffic SCREECHES. Cars collide. Metal and plastic flies.

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The van sprawls out over the water, wheels spinning. It nose dives. It hits the river with a SMASH. A THUNDEROUS CRASH as ice SHATTERS. Frothy water envelopes the van. INT. VAN UNDERWATER - NIGHT. Under murky moonlit water we see Joe, trapped in the drivers seat. He wrenches at his handcuffed hands on the steering wheel to no avail- wisps of blood rise and fade. Bubbles rise from his mouth. Panic in his eyes. JOE (V.O) Believe it or not, this isnt the first time Ive drowned. I hate it. Fire in your lungs. Searing pain. The only thing that stops it is if I open my mouth and suck in water. Sacrifice... Release... Joe surrenders, gulping water. He THRASHES around violently. Bubbles no longer rise. His muscles relax, limbs adrift as death seeps in. Unblinking eyes stare at the dash board clock: 9:37. JOE (V.O) But this is my punishment. My job. Cost of doing business. I made a deal. After a few seconds of stillness, Joe glows red. Fiery red. His skin CRACKS, looking like lava. Water BOILS and BUBBLES. The glow becomes a blinding flash of red. Joe has vanished. The handcuffs slowly bob in the current. FADE TO BLACK. CARD: ONE YEAR AGO FADE IN: INT. SCHOOL BUS ON ICY FREEWAY - NIGHT - FLASHBACK Joe is drunk and sleepy. Its snowing heavily. And he is driving a bus-load of loud teens back from a field trip. Visibility: poor. Joe has a bottle of whiskey in a brown bag tucked by his left thigh. A meek, bespectacled, mid-forties teacher- PETE- leans toward Joe from his seat, smiling- but there is concern behind it. He eyes the bottle, then clears his throat.

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PETE Maybe... Maybe I should drive... You look like you could use a nap. Joe laughs, shaking his head. JOE Jesus, Im fine, Pete... Honest. Joe yawns, taking one hand off the wheel. The bus shifts out of control slightly, but Joe corrects it quickly with minimal effort. The students GIGGLE behind him. Pete GASPS in fright and winces, tightly gripping his seat. JOE You see? Im fine, Pete. Sit down. Pete sinks back into his chair. Joe BURPS. He looks at the clock on the dash board. Its 9:34. JOE Hey Pete, why do parents let their kids out so late? When I was their age, Id have to be in by 8. Rules were rules, you know? Pete smirks. PETE Yeah, I hear that. My Dad would beat me senseless if I was home late. Or if he drank too much. Or if the Yankees lost. Or if he felt like it... Pete and Joe laugh. Behind them, STUDENTS are laughing and joking. Some are sleeping- others on their phones. PETE I dont mean to pry, but how are you holding up at home? Joe sighs through his nose bitterly. His jaw clenches. JOE stares ahead. JOE How are you doing, Joe? Im so sorry to hear about your family, Joe. Our prayers are with you, Joe. Pete lowers his head in shame. Joe has tears in his eyes, but he does not blink them out. Instead, he stares ahead at the snow hitting the windshield.

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JOE You know what I learned? Prayers dont do shit, Pete. You wanna know how Im doing? Truthfully? Joe looks at Pete, who nods, then points to the windshield. PETE I do, but you might wanna look at the road. JOE To hell with the road! I know what Im doing! The bus kicks out again, and Joe corrects it. Pete holds nervously to his seat, adjusting his glasses. A smart-ass STUDENT yells out. STUDENT Nice driving, asshole! JOE looks into mirror and eyes the culprit. JOE Shut your damn mouth, before I beat the piss outta ya! The Student avoids Joes thousand-yard stare, and looks out the window silently as his friends mock him. Joe puts his eyes back on the road. JOE Im dead inside, Pete. And booze is the only thing that keeps me going. (Pauses) Pathetic, aint it? Pete puts his hand on Joes shoulder. PETE Im here if you want to talk. Day or night. And, up until you drink yourself to death, youA DEER SMASHES through the windshield. Joe SCREAMS, clutching the steering wheel. The deer crushes Petes face. He collapses, convulsing in a bloody heap. The deer kicks and moans in the cab, rolling over Pete. Joe stomps on the brakes. The students scream.
(MORE)

16. (CONT'D)

JOE Hold on! EXT. ICY FREEWAY BRIDGE - NIGHT The bus weaves left and right as Joe loses control. It SMASHES through a barrier, and the bus plummets into an icy river. Sheets of ice CRACK and water CHURNS . INT. FLOODING BUS - NIGHT Joe tugs at his seat belt. Its jammed. Water fills the cab. Joe looks in the mirror and sees the students screamingBASHING on the windows- looking for a way out. Water FROTHS and BUBBLES, mercilessly rising. Joe gulps a panicked breath as he is enveloped in icy water. Sound fades as we join him. Pete is caught up in the current and floats toward Joe. Petes face is destroyed. Joe punches Pete away in terror, screaming. Bubbles of life escape. Joe watches them rise in despair. He cranes his neck, looking back. Drowning Students flail in the dark- young faces of twisted terror and panic. We hear Joes strong, POUNDING heart. He TUGS at the seat belt violently. Nothing. All is lost- he can hold on no more. Joe convulses as life is torn from him. His heartbeat fades. His last image is the clock on the dash board: 9:37. FADE TO BLACK. INT. ADMINISTRATION PROCESSING CENTER - TIME UNKNOWN We open on Joe slouched in a chair, SNORING. Bone dry. In a cubicle. Smack in the middle of a fluorescent-lit room resembling a Police Station. Around Joe is chaos. Stock exchange chaos. Dozens of male, mid-20s WORKERS in crisp expensive grey suits- all with solid red ties- work in a frenzy. Paper flies, filing cabinets SLAM and unanswered phones RING. The noise is deafening, yet peaceful- like a mall. We follow a beige file carried by a figure- BAAL-BERITH ('B'). Crisp, expensive grey pinstripe suit. Red tie. Black hair.

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Older, but Rock-Star handsome, tanned and immaculately groomed. A look on his face thats both disarming and frightening. B heads to a desk by Joe and wheels out a swivel chair. He smooths out his tie as he sits. He cracks his neck and knuckles, then clears his throat. B eyes Joe from head to toe disapprovingly, TUTTING. He sighs, opening a desk drawer nearby and produces a vial of smelling salts. He opens the vial- waving it under Joes nose. Joe stirs. His eyes peel open. B puts the vial away, then flicks up his sleeve to look at an expensive watch. He conducts time with an index finger. B In three... two... one... Joe falls off his seat, flailing around. SCREAMING. GARGLING air. JOE Im drowning! Im drowning! Shit! Shit! B SIGHS and waits, his foot tapping. He produces a small mirror, checking his hair and teeth. Perfect. Joe WAILS on. B puts his mirror away. B Okay, thats enough. Come on. B picks Joe up, who resists, but is overcome easily. Joe is placed gently back into his seat, mumbling incoherently. B puts on some stylish thick-rimmed glasses and opens the beige file. B Joseph Alexander Vitriani, correct? Joes head bobs, he drools. B sighs, irritated. B I havent got all day. We have a short window here. Are you or are you not Joseph Alexander Vitriani? Joe nods, rubbing his chest. JOE Yeah. Thats me. Im Joe.

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B writes notes in the file, then adjusts his glasses. B Good. You know your name. Thats a start. My name is Baal-berith. You may call me B. I am your handler. Joe gazes around, puzzled. He sees the Workers, busy like bees. The lights HUM noisily above him. JOE Where am I? What is this place? B fills out a form. Joe rubs his chest and throat. He winces at the light. B All will be made clear in this meeting, Joseph. No pun intended. JOE Joe. B flashes a grin. It masks his contempt, but his eyes say otherwise. He huffs. B My apologies... Joe. B clears his throat and flicks through Joes file. B shakes his head disapprovingly, tutting. B You are in a mess of trouble. JOE Trouble? Joes voice is hoarse. He clears his throat. B Trouble, Joe. A lot. Joe, with sudden clarity and realization, leans in to B. He grins. JOE This aint real. And you aint real. Im dead. Bs face is a stone wall.

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B Yes. You are dead. But this... (Looking around and gesturing around him) This place is indeed real, Mr. Martin. I assure you. Joe laughs, unconvinced. He looks around the room. JOE Right. This is real. B continues to fill out paperwork. JOE My chest hurts. B does not look up, and maintains his focus. B Yes, it will for a while I am afraid. B grins, cracks his neck and laughs uncomfortably. He smooths his tie, and leans in to Joe. B Lets get down to brass tacks. Joe, there are some things I need to go through with you- details and such. So youll need compose yourself as best as possible, as I explain your predicament. Can you do that for me, Joe? Joe clenches his jaw, and frowns. JOE Just get to the point. Whats the Hell is going on? B chuckles. B Excellent play on words, not that youd know that yet. Joe glares at B, who clears his throat, then rapidly flicks through pages of the file. B Moving on. Joseph Alexand-

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JOE Its Joe. Just Joe. B takes a quick breath, fighting back rage. It passes. He continues. B Joe, your life force came to an end on the evening of February 3rd 9:37 PM Eastern Standard Time. No next of kin, family deceased six months prior, and you died by suicide. Former vocation before a driver was aJoe stands, shaking his head and hands. He frowns. JOE Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on. Suicide? B reviews the document. B Thats what it says here. Sit down, please. Joe heads towards the desk. JOE Let me see that! B glares at him. His eyes widen, and his voice is a low GROWL. It echoes. B Sit down! JOE jumps, and sits down quickly. The Workers stop working and stare. Joe goes red in the face- embarrassed and scared. After a few seconds, they get back to work. B grins, pointing to the file. B Its in here, Joe. Youll just have to take my word for it. Joe points at the file angrily. JOE Well change it! I didnt kill myself!

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B We have you as depressed, alcoholic and suicidal. No witnesses. Open and shut case. B SLAMS the file shut. It echoes. Joe shakes his head. JOE This is unbelievable. Joe prods his chest angrily. JOE Im a witness arent I? I was there! I know what happened! A deer came in through the damn window! It wasnt suicide! B sighs. B This does not change anything. For the record, I will file an application to have the entry changed. (Pauses to make notes) You swear that this is the truth? Joe nods. His angular earnest face hiding nothing. B opens the file and makes notes. JOE Yes, I swear- on my soul, that I did not kill myself. Joe pauses. JOE But I was drinking and driving. Ill admit that. B shakes his head, tutting, but does not look up. B That was very irresponsible of you. Joe glares at him, huffing. JOE Who are you, my mother? B smirks, and scribbles more notes. Joe watches.

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JOE What are you writing? Again, B does not look up. B Words. Words that do not concern you. JOE That right? Joe attempts to peer at the file. B SNAPS it shut, glaring at Joe. B Yes. You have other things to worry about. You are booked for murder. 25 murders to be exact. Beatings, shootings, drownings, etcetera, etcetera. JOE That was a different time. A different me. B clicks the pen off angrily and puts it down. He smooths his tie and leans in to JOE. B Then or now, you are you. There is no different you. No saving. No backsies. We all get one turn. Your turn is over. JOE Okay, so where am I? B Right now, you are in processing. This is where the damned come before they go downstairs. JOE Downstairs? B nods his head towards the floor. B Downstairs... JOE Hell? B nods. Joe scoffs, looking around in disbelief.

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JOE This is hell? B cleans his glasses slowly with a red silk cloth. B Part of it. JOE Im in hell? B is losing his patience. He is flustered. B What dont you grasp? Joe smirks. JOE Hell looks like New Jersey Police Station? Come on! Bs eyes flicker with fire. Joe jumps back in his chair. He has a panic attack. His breath quickens and he hangs over his seat, rocking back and forth. Bs eyes return to normal, and he puts his glasses back on. B pats Joe on his shoulder. B Just breathe, Joe. Youll be okay. Breathe... Joe takes a few breaths and regains composure. JOE Dont I... Dont I get a lawyer or something? B laughs, shaking his head. B Joe, you killed 25 people. We know. Joe pleads with his hands. Joe I was just following orders! B shakes his head dismissively.

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B At best you get manslaughter. But 25 counts? Thats a lot, Joe. Joe pauses, his mind moving quicker than usual. JOE How about a second opinion? B chuckles, and shakes his head. B I am your only defense. Your handler. Im the only thing keeping you from... Well... B points to the floor. Joe stares in horror and disbelief. B crosses his legs and flashes a winning smile that has a calming effect on Joe. B Of course, the administration is willing to make a deal with you. Joe blinks, and swallows nervously. He sits forward in the chair. It creaks. JOE A deal? What-what kind of deal? B The only one youll get. As your counsel, I suggest you take it. The deal has its... perks. JOE Perks? Isnt this Hell? B grins. B Yes. Joe pauses in thought. JOE And theres no way out for me? B looks Joe in the eye. B No. There is a moment of silence.

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JOE Well, whats the deal? B Does it matter? Joe sits back in his chair, his voice tone and body shift. JOE Maybe. Maybe it does, yeah. B shakes his head in disbelief, laughing to himself. B You are on the brink of eternal damnation, and you have a way out. And you want details? (Whispering bitterly through teeth) This isnt the Price is Right! Joe chuckles. B frowns, puzzled. JOE No... But it can be Deal or no Deal unless you tell me what I asked you. B blinks a few times and takes a deep breath to calm himself. He smooths his tie and clears his throat. B Alright. The Administration has a job for you. JOE What is it? Whats The Administration? B shakes his head and SMACKS the desk. It ECHOES. B Questions! Always questions! Joe is unfazed. He presses. JOE I like to know what Im signing up for. B Collections. Joe scoffs.

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JOE Collections? B Yes. Are you deaf as well as stupid? Debt collections. You dont get to know anything else until you say yes. Joe is hesitant. He fidgets in his seat. JOE What if the deal sucks? B chuckles, shrugging. His patience is all but gone, but he maintains civility. Just. B Who cares? Look. Ill make it easy for you, so you can understand it... If you dont say yes, you will be remanded in custody, taken in chains and taken to Minos. (Pauses a beat) And Minos... Hes a dick. From there, you are sent to one of nine, all-expenses-paid trips to eternal damnation. Thats forever. JOE I need to think about it. B turns to the desk, shaking his head. B (Mumbling to himself) I cant believe this. Stunning. Absolutely stunning. Its like talking to a wall. No, thats insulting walls. (Snapping fingers) Got it! Its like talking to Astaroth... B snatches up a nearby phone handset. Joe watches intently. B I need you up here. (Pauses) Yeah. B hangs up.

27.

Behind Joe, two large MEN approach. Crisp grey suits. Red ties. They give off a Secret Service vibe- silent yet imposing. They stop two feet from JOE. Joe looks up at each MAN, then back to B. JOE So thats it? Sign or... Joe spirals his finger towards the floor, WHISTLING from high to low. B Yes. Joe sighs, defeated. His head hangs like a shamed child. JOE Alright. B SMACKS the table in excitement once more, laughing. B Excellent! B SNAPS his fingers. From a lick of red flame, a contract THUDS onto the desk before Joe. It looks oddly corporate. B CLICKS on his pen and extends it to Joe. Joe reaches to grab it, and B savagely thrusts it into Joes thigh. Joe whelps, and lunges at B, who leans back- surprised at the aggression. He laughs. JOE Come here! Ill kill you! The MEN wrangle Joe as he yells and struggles. He is strong. Joes eyes- cold like a shark- glare daggers at B. Joes hands are inches from B- who almost looks afraid. Almost. B smooths his tie and clears his throat, keeping his cool. Joe calms, as the MEN hold him firmly in place. B grins. Joe is forced into his chair. B Now if you are quite finished... Joe holds his leg as it bleeds. The pain is fading. He talks through his teeth. JOE Why did you do that?

28.

B hands Joe the bloody pen and points to the contract. B Sign. In blood. Joe winces, leaning in to the contract. The MEN watch his every move. JOE You could have warned me. B flashes a toothy, handsome smile that diffuses Joes anger. B laughs softly and shrugs. B Now wheres the fun in that? Quit being a baby and sign already. B holds out the pen. Joe smirks and snatches it. B points to a line on the contract. B Initial here. And sign there. Joe obeys. As soon as its signed, the contract bursts into flames. Joe jumps back, shielding his face. The contract vanishes. B stands up, and extends his hand to Joe. Joe stands. B Welcome to the Administration, Joe. They shake. B smiles warmly at Joe. B nods at the MEN to leave. They do so. Joe suddenly drops to his knees. He holds his chest, and winces. We hear the KICKING THUD of Joes heart. Joe SCREAMS in agony, rolling onto his back. B leans down to Joe. B I have things to do. This next part is really gonna hurt! Ill be in touch! Another heartbeat KICKS. Joe writhes. His body arches, then convulses. JOES POV B picks up the file and walks away, whistling. We see Joe reach out. His vision is blurring. Sound fades. His breath is laboured.

29.

One more KICK of his heart. Silence. FADE TO BLACK. EXT. RIVER SHORE - NIGHT Sirens WAIL, fire truck horns HONK, and exhaust plumes rise into the air. The snowy night is lit up by flickering lights. Fire Trucks. Cop cars. Ambulances. Joe, unconscious and sopping wet, is lying on his back on the river bank. Two young, female PARAMEDICS tend to him. Paramedic 1, out of breath, bears down on Joe with all her weight with chest compressions. Joes wet body SQUELCHES with each powerful thrust. We hear ribs CRACK. Paramedic 2 holds defibrillator paddles away from Joe. PARAMEDIC 2 Charging! The defibrillator WHINES to a high pitch. Paramedic 1 moves back. PARAMEDIC 2 Clear! Paramedic 2 administers the charge. Joe convulses. His body arches. Joe wakes up trembling, and vomits copious volumes of silty water onto himself. Paramedic 1 quickly turns Joe onto his side as he expels the river he drank. Joe SPLUTTERS into a coughing fit and gasps for air. He watches wisps of steam escape from his mouth: He is alive. Paramedic 2 wraps a wool blanket around Joe. We see Joe breathing more steadily, and he shivers. The Paramedics exchange glances and smile. A life saved. Behind them, DIVERS in thermal suits surface from the river. Churning water, they walk ashore to their CAPTAIN- a stubby man in a parka with travel coffee mug- who shivers in the bitter wind. The DIVERS pull off their breathing apparatus with a hiss of air. DIVER 1 Bus is clear, sir. The Captain sips his coffee.

30.

CAPTAIN Good work. Go warm up. Bodies lay by the shore. Dead. Pale. Their youth ripped from them. Petes crushed face sends a chill down the Captains spine. He takes his hat off in respect and bows his head. Paramedic 1 leans in to Joe and puts her hand on his shoulder. Paramedic 1 You have no idea how lucky you are. Joe sits up, looking solemnly at the row of bodies. JOE I dont feel lucky. Paramedic 1 and 2 help Joe up and walk him to an ambulance. INT. HOSPITAL WARD - NIGHT Joe lies in a bed, sleeping. A brunette NURSE in green scrubs enters. We do not see her face. Her name tag says: Emma. She WHIPS the curtains closed and sits in a chair by Joe, crossing her legs. The nurse gently pours a glass of water, and then savagely flicks it at Joes face. Joe jumps in fright, instantly awake. And wet. JOEs POV. His vision is blurry, but coming into focus. The blurred green body of the Nurse sits close to us. JOE (Hoarsely) W-whats goin on? Why am I all wet? The room comes into focus. Sitting in front of us is B, a full-bodied nurse- wearing dark lipstick. EXIT JOES POV Joe SCREAMS in fright- scrambling to get away. B pins Joe down, holding his mouth. There are muted screams, then silence as Joe eventually calms. B lets go of Joe, and grins mischievously. He holds his index finger to his lips. We get a glance of his nails: red.

31.

B Shhh... Dont tell anyone. Joe rubs his eyes, grunting. Joe B? What are you doing here? B cracks his neck, then reaches to his back, plucking at a bra strap. B I borrowed this body for a visit. These things are very uncomfortable, you know. B manages to remove the bra under his clothes. He peels it out, and tosses it to Joe- who catches it. Joe looks at it quizzically, then throws it aside. Joe sits up and clenches his side. He winces and takes a shallow breath. B Easy, kid killer. Easy. Joe glares at B. B shrugs. B Truth hurts, Joe. Deal with it. Joe winces again, as he swings his feet over the side of the bed. Joe What are you doing here? What am I doing here? (Beat) Thought I was dead. B laughs. He picks up Joes chart and looks through it. B You are dead. Sorta. You are here because you tried to break the world record of holding the most fluid in your body and failed. And Im here to start your career in the Administration. Joe gets off the bed slowly, holding his side. He lifts his hospital gown and looks at his ribs. They are badly bruised. B winces.

32.

B Ouch! That girl did not look like she had that much torque in her. Im surprised. Joe SHUFFLES past B, and B grabs his arm. B Where are you going? Joe To take a leak. Joe looks at his wet gown as it clings to his skin. He plucks at it, frowning. Joe Maybe dry off. Gotta problem with that? B shakes his head. B Not yet. Youre not ready. Joe frowns, brushes Bs arm off and walks to the curtain. B runs to the curtain and intercepts. Joe sighs. Joe Ready? Im a grown man! I know when I have to go. And Ill go when I want. Excuse me. B stands up to Joe, not moving. Joe tries faking left. B counters. B cracks his neck, and takes a breath. He laughs impatiently. B Look, I dont want to get angry because my make-up will run. If you dont behave, Ill have orderlies come in here and give you enough sedatives to knock out a rhino. I say you cant go right now. So hold it. Joe rubs his eyes and mocks a salute. Joe Yes sir. B Good. Now take a seat.

33.

Reluctantly, Joe sits back on his bed. B snaps his fingers and produces a small bottle of whiskey out of a red flame. He throws it to Joe, who catches it. B cups his hands and mimics a cheering crowd. B Look at Marshawn Lynch over here! Joe turns the bottle, inspecting it. B laughs. B Dont tell me youve never seen whiskey before, Oliver Reed. Come on, drink up. Joe hesitates, looking at the amber, tasty liquid. INT. SCHOOL BUS ON ICY FREEWAY - NIGHT - FLASHBACK Dead teenagers float before us in the dark. Moonlight catches their faces- eyes wide in terror. INT. HOSPITAL WARD - NIGHT Joe shakes his head. Joe Sorry. Cant do it. Joe throws the bottle to B, who catches it. B makes the noise of a BUZZER in Jeopardy. B Sorry, Joe. Wrong answer. B stands up and walks over to Joe- who is too tired to move. B I know how youre feeling. JOE How can you possibly know how Im feeling? B Im very perceptive. Look, those kids are upstairs in heaven nowliving the good life. Dead kids dont go to hell. Except maybe that Justin Bieber asshole. B thrusts the bottle out to Joe.

34.

B Anyway, forget them and drink. Or drink, then forget them. I dont care which. Joe shakes his head. He backs away, holding his ribs. Joe I cant forget that kind of shit! Ill never forget it. I aint drinkin that. Never again. B persists, holding the bottle out. Joe shakes his head slowly. Defiantly. Bs friendly face fades. He SNARLS, feverishly opens the bottle and forces it to Joes mouth. Joe SPLUTTERS- spitting it out. B Drink, you idiot! Im not saying this for my health! I want to show you something! Joe resists. B punches Joe in the ribs, and pours whiskey into his mouth. Joe collapses, spitting it out. Bs hair falls over his eyes. He blows at it comically. B Now youve messed up by bangs! He punches Joe in the ribs again. Joe groans, spitting onto the floor. B leans closely into Joes ear and talks through his teeth. B D-rin-k! Once again, he thrusts the bottle to Joe. Joe sighs, weakly grabs it and takes a laboured swig. B clasps his hands in elation. B Finally! Joe drops the bottle, clutching his side. B swoops in and catches it. He chuckles, and has a sip. We hear a CRACK in Joes ribs. Joe winces, his breathing shallows. He glares at B. Joe What did you do to me? B plucks an apple out from a nearby fruit bowl and CRUNCHES into it.

35.

B (Mouth full) Relax. Youll see. Joe looks down in amazement. A warm red glow radiates as his cracked ribs repair themselves. He flinches in pain when they re-set. The bruising fades, eventually disappearing. Joe What the? B laughs, biting another chunk out of his apple. B (Mouth full) Cool, isnt it? Any cut, scratch, bite, broken bone, gunshot wound yada, yada can be healed with booze. Any kind of booze. Its your only source of food from now on. B takes another bite. Joe pokes his chest. He feels no pain. Joe I cant eat? B shakes his head. With one last bite he finishes the apple, then throws the core behind him into a trash can- without looking. B Firstly, that shot was amazing. Secondly, you dont need to. Youre dead, idiot! Two downsides to this are that you have to keep drinkingJOE Or what? B Well, if you dont keep drinking, youll lose your ability to not look dead. I believe Franky said it best: Alcohol may be man's worst enemy, but the Bible says love your enemy. Joe raises an eyebrow, sipping the whiskey again. B chuckles, waving off his concern. B Relax! It takes a while, but youll start to rot. You take a drink and its back to business.

36.

Joe stretches. We see his butt peek through the hospital gown. B chuckles and snaps his fingers. Out of red flame, a large shiny black gift box with a red ribbon appears on the bed. B Suit up. Joe hesitantly opens the package. Inside, there is a grey pinstripe suit. Black shoes. Red tie. Joe dresses. JOE (Dressing) Whats the second downside? B claps excitedly. B I like you, Joe! Youre sharp. You remember. The second downside is that whatever you heal yourself, you feel the same pain as before(shuffling backwards) but backwards. Joe rubs his ribs- the pain only now fading. JOE Got it. So its in my best interest not to get hurt? B bows mockingly. B Excellent, grasshopper. You learn quickly. Joe smirks and ties his laces. B snaps his fingers and produces a beige file. He starts to hand it to Joe then stops. B Im hungry. You? JOE IB claps his hands together. They disappear. INT. DINER - NIGHT. B, now dressed in his grey pinstripe suit, sans nail polishsits across from a surprised and confused Joe at a table in a diner. There are no reflective surfaces in sight.

37.

Joe looks around, and is shocked to see that he is holding a finished beer. B hands the file to Joe, sipping on a hot coffee. JOE How did we get here? B Magic. Here is your first assignment. JOE Assignment? B I can say hit if you like that better. Joe shakes his head. JOE Assignment is fine. (Beat) So this is my job? Killing people for Satan? B grins. B Cool, right? And your Mom said youd never amount to anything. Joe glares at B. JOE She said that? B nods awkwardly, sipping his coffee. B Forget that bitch. Shes in Hell. Youre not. Not right now, anyway. Get over it. The time is now, or whatever. Eyes on the prize. Joe flicks through the file. Inside is a photograph of a middle-aged man. Joe studies the file intently. B Straight up collection. His term is due. JOE What did he sell his soul for?

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B grins and points to his crotch and mimics holding a big dick. Joe huffs, grinning. B plucks a photo from the file and hands it Joe. His eyes widen, and he whistles. JOE He sold his soul to be hung like a horse? B Yep. Shoots low grade porno out in Queens. What a waste. Joe studies the face of the man he is to kill. JOE How do you want me to do it? B shows Joe the contract, pointing to a section that says: Conditions. B See here? This is where you look to see what you can and cannot do to collect. Since he is in debt to us, its your painting. But be creative. Joe raises an eyebrow. JOE Creative? B grins, gesturing with his hands. B Something that says: holy shit the Devil is real! (Leans in close to Joe and winks) Helps with business. B chuckles. Joe nods, putting the file down. Like a switch, he is no longer Joe the bus driver. Now hes Mafia Joe. Breaker of knees. Silencer of rats. Joe What about expenses? Hits dont come cheap. B snaps his fingers and produces a Credit card and hands it to Joe. Joe looks at it, unimpressed. He tosses it on the table in disgust. Joe Diners Club?

39.

B looks at it and shrugs. B Yeah... Thats not up to me. It works most places. Keep your receipts. Oh, and one more thing: when you get a high profile case or we want a face to face, you have to come and see us. JOE Can I just get a cellphone? R is there a number I can call you at? 666? B laughs loudly. Then stops suddenly- full deadpan. B That joke is Hellen Keller- stupid and dead. No phones. Joe frowns and shrugs. JOE How am I supposed to get hold of you, then? Youre not exactly easy to get to. B mimics drowning. Joe huffs, sitting back in his seat. B smiles, as if to say I told you so. B This is punishment. Remember that. Joe lights a smoke and takes a long meditative drag. He exhales. JOE Whatever. Whats a high profile case? B Demons, Undead. Fun stuff. Like what you did with that cigarette, by the way. Smooth. Joe leans in, his face is a mix of fear and excitement. JOE Undead? Like Zombies, Vampires and all that shit? B nods.

40.

B Yeah. Dont worry, they cant hurt you, remember? Youre tough. B RAPS Joe on the forehead, laughing. Joe closes his eyes, but does not resist. B SLAPS Joe on the shoulder, then stands up and smooths his tie. Joe looks at the file. Joe What about when Im done with this case? B Theyll be another. And another. And another. Get the idea? Joe Yeah, but how do I get them? B finishes his coffee. He chuckles, then spreads his hands like a salesman pitching a product. B The DMV. Joe drops the file. Joe What? (beat) Shit. B Go to the DMV and talk to Rosie. Shes a sweet old girl. Joe clenches his jaw. Joe The DMV? Any chance I can go back to Hell? B laughs, and SLAPS Joe on the shoulder again as he gets up. B I feel great about this! Any more questions before you go to work? JOE Yeah. Can I go to the bathroom?

41.

INT. DINER BATHROOM - NIGHT Joe FLUSHES a urinal and heads to the sink. He does not look in the mirror. Pete, his dead friend is his reflection- only he isnt dead. And he doesnt copy Joe whatsoever. He just stands, glaring at Joe with his arms folded like an annoyed spouse. Joe washes his hands and splashes his face and takes a few relaxing breaths. JOE That feels good. PETE Hey, dummy. Look up. Joe looks up at the mirror and jumps back. He screams. Joe falls over, then scrambles to his feet. PETE Quit being so melodramatic and get up already! Joe stands up, blinking into the mirror. Joe touches his face, but Pete does not mimic him. Pete punches the glass. It THUDS, but does not break. Joe flinches, and Pete flicks his fingers in pain. PETE Im not a reflection, you idiot! After what you put me through and I end up here! JOE Why are you so pissy? Pete leans in close to the mirror, seething with rage. PETE You got me killed! Joe leans on the sink. Pete fogs his side of the mirror up. He wipes it with his sleeve. JOE It was an accident! Blame the deer, not me! Pete shakes his head, and thrusts an angry finger at Joe. PETE
(MORE)

42. (CONT'D) You were drinking! Theres no way this is not on you!

Joe extends his hands in sincerity. JOE Im sorry, Pete. Im sorry, okay? I didnt meanPetes arms remained folded- his expression sour. PETE Can it, Joe. That doesnt help me. There is an awkward silence between them. A toilet stall nearby FLUSHES the tension away, and a worried-looking man leaves quickly with toilet paper on his shoe. He doesnt wash. Joe pretends to wash his hands, smiling merrily at the manwho avoids his gaze. Pete watches him leave, shaking his head disapprovingly. The door closes. PETE That is nasty. Does he have any idea what he could spread without washing his hands? Joe dries off his hands. As he does so, he looks at the mirror. JOE What are you doing in there? Pete is silent, and fidgets. Joe sees a lie. PETE I dont know. Joe smirks. JOE Come on, Pete. Were friends. You can tell me. PETE Were not friends anymore! This isnt funny! Friends dont kill each other! Joe clenches his jaw and takes a breath. JOE That wasnt me!

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PETE But you stillJOE I still was wrong for doing what I did. Maybe wed all be alive if I wasnt a drunk asshole. PETE Right. A moment of silence. JOE Are you going to tell me why you are in there? I can always find out... Joe kicks open a bathroom stall door and looks at the toilet. Its dirty and makes him nauseous. JOE All I have to do is drown myself. Pete scoffs mockingly. PETE In a toilet? Joe stares at the toilet. He isnt convinced he can do it, either. JOE Why not? Ill do it. Joe walks over to the stall, out of Petes view. Joe stares at the water in the bowl. Petes reflection is in it. He smiles. PETE Boo! Pete laughs, and Joe flushes the toilet. He heads back to the mirror. Pete is sulky. PETE That wasnt very nice. Joe lights a smoke. JOE You may as well tell me. And get over being dead already! It looks like were going to be stuck together for a while.

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Pete looks away childishly. PETE Im not telling. Joe prods his face. Again, Pete does nothing. JOE So am I you? PETE No, youre still ugly. You just dont have a reflection, I guess. Joe exhales a plume of smoke. Pete winces in disgust. PETE You know you cant smoke in here! Joe smirks. JOE Sue me. Come on, lets go. Joe heads to the door. We see Pete on the handle. PETE Go? Go where? Joe sighs, frustrated. Smoke billows from him. He looks into the handle. JOE Queens. We got a job. PETE A job in Queens? Were dead. What kind of job? Joe pauses, smirking. JOE (mocking Petes voice) Im not going to tell you. Joe opens the door. We catch a glimpse of Pete cock his head and pretend laugh. PETE Oh thats funny. Joe leaves the bathroom.

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INT. DINER - NIGHT Joe looks around. B is gone, and customers around him eat and chat. There is a badge in the shape of a pentagram Joe leaves money on the table, grabs the file and heads to the door. JOE(V.O) And that was the day that I died, killed 17 kids and my only friend. Hell of a day. I look back on it now and laugh. Not at the dead kids of course, but of how stupid I was. How unaware of the world I lived in. EXT. NEW YORK CITY STREET - NIGHT Joe leaves the diner, and threads through pedestrian traffica seemingly average man, but far from it. JOE(V.O) Like I said before, I dont like killing people. But Im good at it. You make a deal with the guys downstairs, and Ill be there to collect one day. You just wont see me coming. FADE OUT. THE END?