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Face/Off, early draft
FACE/OFF
Written by Mike Werb & Michael Colleary
First Draft
FADE IN:
EXT. SKYLINE -- NIGHT
Drizzling... cold... foggy... gray sky vanishes into gray
sea without a seam... fog so dense we move through it
blindly until... looming huge: the GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE.
SUPERIMPOSE: SAN FRANCISCO -- THE NEAR FUTURE
Impossibly close, we soar through repair scaffolding and
over suspension wires... glimpsing earthquake damage:
broken concrete, dangling cables, cracked support beams.
Turning south... the familiar jewel-like cityscape...
Fisherman's Wharf... Russian Hill... yet there are now two
Transamerica Towers and we CLIMB UP the new one.
Reaching the fogless PINNACLE... peace reigns... as we float
right through an ACCESS PANEL -- strangely wedged open -- and
INTO THE TRANSAMERICA-TWO SPIRE
A maze of wiring, ducts and maintenance-controls... but behind
one DUCT -- something HIDES... something GLOWING RED...
TELESCOPE IN and find THE DEVICE. Unlike any other explosive
charge, it is complex in form and compact in size, with a
sectioned, multi-colored cube panel and a glass GLOBE core...
MAGNIFY... now we're INSIDE the globe... in a gaseous soup...
with a zillion microscopic parasites... they crowd the
screen... throbbing... BUZZING like a swarm of angry wasps.
INT. TRANSAMERICA-TWO -- PARKING LEVEL LOBBY -- NIGHT
Late. The last few workoholics head for their cars. The
only sound is the sloshing of the Chinese JANITOR mopping.
Slosh. Slosh... the FREIGHT ELEVATOR opens and out comes
GEOFFREY BARNES (30). Rumpled and out-of-breath -- the slim
Englishman bumbles into the Janitor -- knocking him down.
GEOFFREY
Thank goodness, a human being.
Fumbling with his briefcase, he kicks over the pail. Water
sloshes everywhere. The janitor starts yelling in CHINESE.
Barnes replies -- in perfect Mandarin.
GEOFFREY (cont'd)
[I'm terribly sorry, but
I feel like Icarus in the
labyrinth. Where the devil
is Parking Level Red-14B?]
The Janitor stares, then smiles and gives directions in
Chinese. BARNES graciously bows. The Janitor bows back.
INT./EXT. STREETS -- SQUAD CAR -- NIGHT
Cops MORRIS and HODGES wait for a green light at the
intersection of Van Ness and Lombard. The RADIO crackles on.
DISPATCHER
Attention all units -- 211 at
Pier 39. Suspect is a white male,
30's, 6 feet with specs, armed
and very dangerous. Heading
south on Van Ness in a blue Ford
sedan. Watch for this one,
fellas -- he's looney toons.
The exchange glances as... a blue FORD SEDAN motors by.
INT. CAR -- MOVING -- NIGHT
Geoffrey Barnes innocently drives his rental car -- a blue
Ford Sedan. Tired, he stretches his long legs.
GEOFFREY
Another day, another - cop?
POLICE SIRENS blaze behind him. Concerned and annoyed --
Barnes finally pulls over.
Adjusting his specs -- Barnes fumbles to find the car
registration. He turns -- and sees a POLICE AUTOMATIC
pointing at his head. Morris waves him out of the car.
EXT. FILLMORE PRECINCT -- NIGHT
A modern multi-use high-rise. A window-washing "DRONE"
works its way up a grid-track. As the RAIN increases, the
drone stops cleaning and retracts into a maintenance shaft.
INT. PLEXIGLASS ELEVATOR -- MOVING -- NIGHT
The elevator ascends quickly -- glimpsing floors dedicated
to Evidence, Parking Authority, Civil Code, Small Claims,
Identification etc. A manacled Barnes trembles.
GEOFFREY
You're making a ghastly
mistake! I haven't been
to Fisherman's Wharf, I
don't even like fish.
Yeah, yeah, yeah -- like Hodges and Morris really care.
INT. BOOKING LEVEL -- NIGHT
A busy night processing hookers, homeless and alcoholics.
In the thick of it -- the BOOKING CLERK tries to lock Barnes's
hand onto a PRINT-SCANNER -- but he resists mightily.
GEOFFREY
Check my papers -- I'm with
the English consulate -- I've
got diplomatic immunity -- and
you've - got - no - right!
Barnes pulls away, eyes flashing angrily... until a HUGE
COP grabs his hand and gently eases it down on the scanner.
INT. HOLDING TANK -- NIGHT
Barnes's thrown into a cell with a nasty group of drunken
GANG-BANGERS. He smiles nervously, goes to the payphone.
One WIRY HOOD trips him. They laugh as Barnes struggles up,
then inserts a "smart" card in the payphone slot.
GEOFFREY
Hello! Sorry I'm late, but
there's been a bit of a
muddle. I'm on the ninth floor
of the bloody Fillmore police
station. Could you come and
"bail me out" or whatever they
call it? There's a good chap.
He hangs up and glances at the threatening men. The WIRY
HOOD takes Barnes's glasses and snaps them in two.
INT. BAY VIEW HOTEL -- LOBBY -- NIGHT
Rain-soaked, POLLUX TROY (30's) anxiously checks in. He's a
human hummingbird -- skittish, edgy, a bit paranoid.
CLERK
-- I do have something on
the 26th floor facing west
-- but there's no view.
POLLUX
Yes -- there is.
POLLUX grabs the key and heads for the ELEVATOR. He holds
the elevator door open, waiting on a pair of muscular,
crystal-eyed twins -- LARS and LUNT MUELLER.
A helpful Bellhop reaches for Lars's large DUFFLE bag --
Lars yanks it back and disappears into the elevator.
INT. IDENTIFICATION FLOOR -- ANALYSIS ROOM -- SAME TIME
Chief analyst BRYCE shows a new TRAINEE the ropes. He grabs
a booking PRINT-OUT from a vacuum feeder tube: Barnes's.
BRYCE
If this guy took a shit off
the London Bridge -- we'll
know about it in two seconds.
Bryce feeds the computer which WHIRS into action -- scanning
the handprint. The Trainee considers Barnes's innocently
GOOFY MUGSHOT.
TRAINEE
This guy? I bet he never
even said the word shit.
FULL SCREEN -- MONITOR
BARNES'S prints match the record of one CASTOR TROY:
WANTED -- PACIFIC STOCK EXCHANGE BOMBINGS, 12 DEAD
WANTED -- ASSASSINATION OF CROATIAN AMBASSADOR
WANTED -- KIDNAPPING OF BRUNEI CROWN PRINCE
BRYCE and the TRAINEE look at each other -- stunned.
But the FELONY LIST goes on... MURDER... ARSON...
KIDNAPPING... TERRORISM... with CD-ROM IMAGES of the
crimes. Finally... at the bottom:
IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION ON THE WHEREABOUTS OF THIS
PERSON CALL CMD. JON ARCHER, NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY,
WEST COAST DIVISION, IMMEDIATELY.
INT. PSYCHIATRIST'S OFFICE -- NIGHT
Some office. There's a stunning 180-view of TOWERING
REDWOODS, a creek, even some ambling deer. DR. RACHEL
GARDNER (55) considers her fidgeting patient -- JON ARCHER.
Archer's around 30, decent-looking, maybe even handsome if
he ever smiled. His eyes reveal a broken soul, a soul
driven into the grip of obsession.
DR. GARDNER
How is the "date night" idea
going over with Eve?
ARCHER
Like gangbusters, doc.
(off her look)
Okay, I missed the last one.
DR. GARDNER
You missed the last three,
including her birthday.
(holds up a list)
Your wife's gripe sheet.
ARCHER
I've been working night and
day. I haven't had time.
DR. GARDNER
You're supposed to make time.
When was the last time you
told her you love her?
(Archer shrugs)
When was the last time
you two had sex?
Archer tightens up, says nothing. He goes to the bookshelf,
pushing IN a copy of "John Muir's Woods" -- and pulling OUT
Dashiell Hammett's "Maltese Falcon".
The redwood forest disappears from the "window". A B&W
action-view of the streets of old San Francisco replaces it.
ARCHER
One of my informants spotted
him -- right here in the city.
DR. GARDNER
I just asked you about making
love to your wife, and you
started talking about your job.
ARCHER
I'm not hiding in my work,
if that's what you're saying.
DR. GARDNER
You said it, Jon, not me.
Archer listens... letting it sink in... CONSIDERING.
DR. GARDNER (cont'd)
You put yourself in constant
jeopardy so you don't have to
face yourself. But what will you
do when the job is over -- and
there's no place left to hide?
The phone RINGS. Gardner picks it up, listens, then sighs.
DR. GARDNER (cont'd)
I am not your secretary.
When you're in here --
ARCHER
(grabs phone)
Jon Archer.
As he listens, his face becomes more energized, more alive.
ARCHER (cont'd)
I'll be right there,
Sergeant. Don't talk to
him, don't listen to him,
and for God's sake --
don't go near him...
INT. HOLDING TANK -- NIGHT
Barnes signals Officer Morris, who is petting "Dinah," the
precinct's mascot CAT.
GEOFFREY
Excuse me, Officer. May I
have a private word with you?
(Morris puts Dinah
down and approaches)
I just wanted to say...
(drops English accent
and speaks in his
natural American idiom)
Thanks for being one dumb fuck.
Barnes reaches through the bars, and SNAPS MORRIS'S NECK!
Morris sags lifeless as "Barnes" -- aka CASTOR TROY --
quickly and calmly grabs the unarmed cop's keys.
Transformed, this man is coordinated, aggressive, sexy.
INT. HOTEL -- NIGHT
Pollux and the twins hurry inside. The door cracks open
again as a hand hangs a DO NOT DISTURB card over the knob.
EXT. HOTEL ROOM -- SAME TIME
This room does indeed have a view -- of the precinct's SQUAD
ROOM -- through its steel-reinforced plexiglass windows.
The trio scan with INFRA-RED GOGGLES: HEAT SIGNATURES of
computers, coffee makers, the cat -- finally a bald COP.
LUNT
Number 6 -- the cue-ball.
LARS sights through his laser-sighted RIFLE. A harmless
SPOT of light momentarily tags the cop's bald pate, then
vanishes. An LED on the rifle's scope clicks from 5 to 6.
LARS
6 is tagged.
POLLUX
Hurry...
INT. PRECINCT -- NIGHT
CASTOR picks his way through the back rooms of the precinct
when a DOOR opens in front of him.
A COP emerges from the head, zipping up his pants. CASTOR
silences the cop with a quick punch to the throat and drags
him back into the head just before --
BRYCE and cops charge by -- toward the holding tank.
CASTOR slips out after they've passed. Keeps moving.
INT. HOTEL -- NIGHT
POLLUX aims, fires a SILENCED five-barrelled weapon --
EXT. PRECINCT WINDOWS -- NIGHT
Five CHARGES sink into the reinforced plexiglass.
INT. HOTEL -- NIGHT
POLLUX turns to the twins -- they nod. Ready.
INT. PRECINCT -- NIGHT
HOLDING ROOM: BRYCE finds Morris dead, Castor gone. He
hits a button.
SQUAD ROOM: Busy Cops look up as the ALARM suddenly
screams. Then -- BOOM! The plexiglass windows EXPLODE
inward, leaving an enormous gash open to the whipping rain.
INTERCUT:
CASTOR emerges -- races for the gap -- as the COPS swiftly
recover from the blast. They grab their weapons and home in
on Castor. They move in fast -- and he's exposed as...
LARS raises the laser-sighted rifle and FIRES.
A SWARM OF TRACER BULLETS roars toward the cops. Spiralling
and twisting, the armada of smart bullets SPLITS UP AND SEARCHES
OUT their marked targets. Just as Castor's surrounded...
A DOZEN COPS are cut down at once. INSTANT SILENCE.
A SILHOUETTE appears among the dead cops.
LARS aims the rifle again, but Pollux stops him.
POLLUX
It's my brother...
Indeed, the SILHOUETTE IS CASTOR. He grabs a pistol, stuffs
it in his belt and hurries to the edge.
POLLUX fires a piton. It sinks into the precinct wall at an
incline, fixing a STEEL CABLE between the buildings. Pollux
nods "scram" to the TWINS who grab their bags and exit.
CASTOR and POLLUX make eye-contact -- a silent communication
-- as CASTOR secures himself on an inverted T-Grip pulley
and starts slowly sliding along the rain-slicked cable.
EXT. HOTEL -- NIGHT
CASTOR is halfway across when -- GUNSHOTS. One grazes him,
the other cracks the pulley. It GRINDS to a halt.
BRYCE -- wounded -- shakily aims from the wrecked precinct,
about to fire again. Pollux can't get a clear shot.
POLLUX
Castor --!
Hanging from one hand, CASTOR blasts back -- nailing BRYCE.
CASTOR
Go on -- GO!
Abandoning the broken pulley, CASTOR keeps moving -- hand-
over-hand. POLLUX hesitates -- then takes off.
EXT. HOTEL ENTRANCE -- NIGHT
A black van screeches to a stop. ARCHER steps out, followed
by veteran TITO BIONDI and rookie LOOMIS. Shattered GLASS
crunches beneath Archer's shoes.
HIGH ABOVE
CASTOR'S GRIP starts to slip. Struggling to hold on, he
drops his pistol. It falls -- TUMBLING -- as --
STREET BELOW
ARCHER looks up -- and catches the PISTOL.
EYE-CONTACT between Archer and Castor. Years of hatred pass
between them. Before Archer can open fire --
A RANGE ROVER roars toward him -- POLLUX shoots as he drives
right at the agents.
ARCHER and team returns fire. Wounded, LOOMIS goes down.
Shredded, the RANGE ROVER spins out and FLIPS.
INT. HOTEL ROOM -- NIGHT
CASTOR glances at the SWARM of authorities below. He hauls
himself INSIDE the room and sees that Pollux has left him an
automatic pistol and a steaming cappuccino.
INT./EXT. RANGE ROVER -- STREET -- NIGHT
Before bloody Pollux can come to his senses, ARCHER cuffs
him to the steering wheel.
ARCHER
You won't be using this
trick on me again.
He reaches into Pollux's shirt and yanks off a chain from
which hangs a tiny HANDCUFF KEY. Pollux flails helplessly.
Tito looks up from aiding Loomis -- whose ear is shredded
-- to see Archer disappear into the hotel.
INT. HOTEL -- 26TH FLOOR -- NIGHT
Gun ready, ARCHER emerges from the elevator. He scopes out
the cordite-reeking hotel corridor -- it's empty.
Likewise the hotel room... just an empty coffee cup.
EXT. ROOF -- NIGHT
CASTOR skirts the rooftop dominated by an enormous NEON
hotel sign, searching for a way out.
He finds a hatch, set flush on the rooftop. He grabs the
handle, but it doesn't give.
Setting down his pistol, he grasps the hatch handle with
both hands and tugs hard.
The flashing NEON strobes CASTOR'S SHADOW on a tank beneath
the helipad -- marked "COOLANT UNDER PRESSURE -- NO SMOKING."
As Castor works, a SECOND SHADOW melts into his. For a
moment the two shadows MERGE. Then...
ARCHER (o.s.)
Turn around.
CASTOR sees ARCHER standing behind him. Gun trained.
CASTOR
Jon, I'm getting a little
annoyed by your obsessive
need to spoil my fun.
ARCHER
And how much will your
"fun" net you this time?
CASTOR plays for time -- inching toward his pistol.
CASTOR
What's it to you? I
declare it. Here I am,
back in the States for
less than a month --
ARCHER
You're under arrest.
Incredibly, you still have
the right to remain silent --
CASTOR
What're you gonna do with
me gone? You'll drive
your wife and kid nuts!
I bet your daughter is
just about ripe by now.
What's her name, Janie?
ARCHER
Mention my family once
more and you're dead.
CASTOR
You can't kill me, Jon.
I've got something going
this Saturday night...
it's gonna be worse than
anything God ever dumped
on the Pharaohs -- and
only I can stop it.
ARCHER
You can tell me all about
it -- from your prison cell.
CASTOR
Don't count on it.
CASTOR grabs for his gun. ARCHER dives away, firing, as --
Castor's shot rips into the COOLANT TANK. WHOOSH! The
coolant sprays out -- blasting full-force at Castor. He's
thrown back and --
CASTOR hits the neon sign. Tangled in the shattered sign,
rain-soaked CASTOR is ELECTROCUTED by a web of shorting wires.
ARCHER stumbles away from the torrent of sparks and madly-
whipping electrified wires. He backs into --
TITO
Tell me he didn't get
away again...
The smoke subsides. CASTOR hangs crucified in the skeleton
of the neon letters -- "HOTEL" now reads simply "H - - EL."
Dead to the world, Castor's MOCKING SMILE still survives.
EXT. ROOFTOP -- NIGHT -- (LATER)
A stately woman, flanked by two bodyguards, coolly examines
CASTOR'S body as it's gurneyed into the freight elevator.
This is regional NSA director VICTORIA LAZARRO (40s).
She spots ARCHER waiting for the glass view elevator.
LAZARRO
Jon --!
ARCHER doesn't seem to hear. He gets into the elevator.
INT. HOTEL -- GLASS ELEVATOR -- NIGHT
ARCHER hits "down." Before the doors close, LAZARRO
squeezes inside. The elevator descends.
LAZARRO
Fine work, Jon.
ARCHER
Yeah, real fine. Especially
all the casualties.
LAZARRO
I'm complimenting you.
Can't you ever just say
"thanks"?
ARCHER
(grudgingly)
... Thanks.
LAZARRO
Try to kiss my butt just
once before I'm transferred.
ARCHER
Sorry, Admiral. It wasn't
mentioned in the job
description.
The elevator doors open. They've arrived in --
THE LOBBY
Filled with agents, cops and press. A REPORTER snaps a
photograph of the pair.
REPORTER
Hey, Archer, what's going
on? How about a statement?
Routinely, Archer gives his "statement" -- grabbing the man's
Nikon. He rips out the film -- then hands the camera back.
LAZARRO
Jon -- bad press means bad
publicity means budget cuts.
(Archer doesn't respond)
Just have your report on my
desk by noon.
Lazarro looks at Archer like he's some long-extinct species
and walks away. TITO steps up and slings an arm around Archer.
TITO
Go home, Jon. Tell Eve...
EXT. SUNSET DISTRICT -- CAR -- MOVING -- DAY
Exhausted -- ARCHER drives through the middle-class
neighborhood, sipping a carton of milk.
INT. AN ORDINARY HOUSE -- DAY
At the KITCHEN WINDOW: EVELYN ARCHER (30) -- handsome,
strong, reserved -- watches as...
ARCHER'S CAR rolls right past the house -- then jerks to a
stop. In reverse, it backs down the street -- back toward
the house. EVE shakes her head. Same old story.
EXT. ARCHER HOME -- DAY
On his way to the house, ARCHER picks up a basketball and
takes a shot. His form is terrible -- he misses by a mile.
INT. ARCHER'S HOME -- DAY
ARCHER enters and sees EVE in her medical scrubs. Her fiery
auburn hair may be down, but she's decidedly cool.
ARCHER
Hi...
(no response)
Where's Jamie?
She nods toward the KITCHEN. JAMIE is there -- a sullen and
hard 12-year-old. She's flanked by TWO COPS.
EVE
She complimented her "D"
in physics with an "F"
in grad theft auto...
EXT. ARCHER'S FRONT PORCH -- MINUTES LATER -- DAY
Smiling, ARCHER shakes hands with the cops -- as they leave.
INT. ARCHER'S HOME -- DAY
ARCHER shuts the door -- his smile disappears. He turns and
looks at Jamie, matter-of-factly pouring herself coffee.
ARCHER
Stealing a police car
from a car wash! Are
you out of your mind?
JAMIE
That's right. Don't even
ask me what happened.
Archer looks to Eve for help. Eve shakes her head -- nope.
ARCHER
Okay. What happened?
JAMIE
Like you'd ever believe
me over a fucking cop!
She bolts. In anticipation, Eve calmly opens the door as
Jamie rushes out, then closes it behind her.
EVE
Well, you tried. You failed
miserably, but you tried.
ARCHER
Everything I say is wrong.
I can't talk to her anymore.
EVE
She's only 12. Some day
she'll understand that apathy
and absence are just special
ways of saying "I love you."
ARCHER
Is that what you think?
EVE
Jon... we just remember
how it used to be.
(heads for door)
You staying for a while or
is this just a piss-stop?
ARCHER
We need to talk.
EVE
I'm late for surgery.
ARCHER
It's important.
EVE
So is finishing my residency
and passing my boards...
But as Eve opens the door -- something in her husband's
expression makes her stop cold.
EVE (cont'd)
Jon -- what is it?
But he's too overcome. He starts to speak -- but can't.
EVE (cont'd)
Is it -- him? You
got him?
Emotions avalanche across his face until he finally looks up.
EVE (cont'd)
It's over, Jon? It's
really over?
For the first time -- ARCHER allows himself a thin SMILE.
EVE pulls him close -- a sheltering embrace for them both.
ARCHER
I'll make it up to you and
Jamie. I'll put in for a desk
job. This time, I mean it.
INT. ARCHER HOME -- MORNING
Freshly dressed, Archer heads down the hall. He pauses at
the door to Jamie's room when he sees --
INSIDE
Fully clothed, Jamie is fast asleep on her bed cluttered
with clothes and assorted girl-stuff.
ARCHER steps inside -- looking at his daughter's now-
peaceful face. He looks around at her room... sees the
stuffed animals collecting dust... make-up, jewelry...
his little girl is growing up fast. And he's missing it.
ARCHER carefully pulls the blanket up over her. With a
bittersweet smile, he slips out of the room.
EXT. PRESIDIO -- NSA HEADQUARTERS -- DAY
A sprawling, high-security compound. ARCHER negotiates the
no-nonsense check-point manned by heavily-armed guards.
GATE GUARD ED
Print, please, Commander.
ARCHER presses his thumb to a scan-pad as guards inspect the
car. ED waves "all clear." Archer drives in.
INT. LOBBY -- DAY
The entry is dominated by the NSA OFFICIAL SEAL -- A cobalt-
and-white glass mosaic of a stalwart eagle clutching a key.
Color-coded elevators denote security status. ARCHER uses a
mag-card to enter the restricted "RED LEVEL" elevator.
INT. BULLPEN -- DAY
Efficient as a beehive, agents, cryptologists, support staff
buzz through their routines. ARCHER strides past -- drawing
assorted congratulatory nods and "thumbs up" signs -- but
no one breaks work-stride. He enters his...
RECEPTION AREA
Archer's team is there. Applauding. Proud. But Archer's
uneasy with plaudits.
ARCHER
Much appreciated. Now let's
get back to work, okay?
He herds the disappointed agents out.
WANDA
(to Buzz)
Is that stick ever gonna
fall out of his ass?
Archer shuts the door, then turns to his attractively-built
secretary -- KIM BREWSTER (25).
KIMBERLY
(holds up champagne)
The CIA sent this over.
What should I do with it?
ARCHER
Send it back and tell
them to stop wasting
the taxpayers' money.
(a beat)
And Miss Brewster --
KIMBERLY
Yes, Commander?
ARCHER
It's against the law to
smoke in a federal building.
He OPENS THE DRAWER, stomps out her cigarette, then exits
to his inner office. Kimberly sighs and turns to a CLERK.
KIMBERLY
Three years -- and he still
calls me "Miss Brewster."
INT. ARCHER'S OFFICE -- DAY
MOVING past photos, newsclips, clues and totems of CASTOR --
a monument to his obsession -- we FIND...
ARCHER on the computer. Like a guy who can't help but stare
at a train wreck, he scrolls through...
CASTOR'S HOMICIDE VICTIMS FILE
Face after face -- some innocent, some not -- flash past.
Finally he stops at the image of a LITTLE BOY.
All smiles and ruddy cheeks. MATTHEW ARCHER'S a child with
all the time in the world.
Light floods in as TITO enters.
ARCHER
How's Loomis?
TITO
Apparently, fine. He's
coming into work. That's
the good news...
ARCHER
Go on.
TITO
Castor's still alive --
(off Archer's reaction)
Technically. He's a turnip,
on total life-support...
Tito pops a micro-disc into the desk-top.
TITO (cont'd)
... And I found this --
at his brother's flat...
A HOLO-IMAGE appears -- a 3-D image of the DEVICE. Archer
sags -- he knows it's a bomb... and a complex one.
Using a remote, Archer ENLARGES THE 3-D IMAGE. The "bomb" is
now 5'x5'x5' -- virtual reality without the helmet. We step
with Archer RIGHT INTO THE BOMB as he studies it.
TITO (cont'd)
Porcelain casing... thermal
neutron cloak... I didn't
recognize the payload.
ARCHER
Some kind of designer toxin.
(moving into the core
then inspecting it)
Probably biological.
Definitely airborne.
Archer's eyes sharpen -- it sinks in.
ARCHER (cont'd)
"Worse than anything God
ever dumped on the Pharaohs."
Enlarging the IMAGE, Archer examines it even more closely.
ARCHER (cont'd)
Castor's sociopathic, but not
suicidal. He wouldn't handle
anything this unstable without...
He traces a finger along the bomb's guts to a small
appendage on the globe. It's got a button.
ARCHER (cont'd)
-- Here. A fail-safe -- in
case the bomb goes critical
while being installed.
(a beat)
Find out how it works.
And call Lazarro -- tell
her I'm on my way up.
DISSOLVE TO: INTERROGATION FOOTAGE
Pollux under the 3rd degree. Wired to a complex machine --
the interrogating Agents seem to have him on the run...
INT. BRIEFING ROOM -- DAY
ARCHER, LAZARRO and various NSA OFFICIALS watch the monitor.
POLLUX
(on screen)
-- That bomb was just a
crossword puzzle to me...
a mental exercise. I
never built it...
Weary, LAZARRO shuts down the monitor... turns to Archer.
ARCHER
He's lying.
LAZARRO
Jon, he's hooked up to
a full-spectrum polygraph.
No one has ever beaten --
ARCHER
I don't care -- he's
manipulating it. That
bomb has been built and
it's out there, somewhere.
LAZARRO
What do you expect us to
do -- shut down the city,
evacuate two million people
on a hunch?
Archer looks from Lazarro to the other officials. He knows
it's hopeless -- and gets up to leave.
ARCHER
It isn't a hunch and
Castor doesn't bluff.
It's going to happen...
INT. CORRIDOR -- DAY
ARCHER stomps along, Tito at his heels.
TITO
We can send in a plant
-- try to get Pollux to
spill the location.
ARCHER
He'd see that a mile away.
(a beat)
The only person he'd talk
to about that bomb is his
brother. Unfortunately,
turnips can't talk.
Archer's mind races, there's got to be a way.
TITO
I'll be damned. Loomis...
LOOMIS is in the Squad Room -- not a scratch on him.
ARCHER
Which ear was it?
TITO
The left, I think. Those
surgeons in Witness
Protection can fix things
nobody's even broken yet.
ARCHER says nothing. Something dawns on him. Something
brilliant as it is insane. Or is it simply insane...?
FULL SCREEN: LIFE-SIZE HOLOGRAPHIC IMAGES OF A MAN... just
an ordinary man... flat nose, big brow, an uncertain chin.
HOAG'S VOICE
This informant marked
himself for death by
testifying against a drug
cartel, so he was sent to
me for a little makeover.
PULL BACK TO:
INT. MEDICAL WING -- PHYSIOLOGICAL CAMOUFLAGE UNIT -- DAY
Expertly working a joy-stick is DR. MALCOLM HOAG (50's).
This man exudes genius and arrogance. Archer's beside him.
HOAG
A rhinoplasty here, a
mentoplasty there...
The Informant's NOSE narrows. His CHIN strengthens.
HOAG (cont'd)
Blepharoplasty, otoplasty...
Everywhere a plasty, plasty.
The Informant's big EARS shrink and his EYES morph. The end
result -- literally a NEW MAN. Hoag nods matter-of-factly.
HOAG (cont'd)
Physical augmentation, vocal
enhancement implants -- More
snitches have disappeared in
here than in San Francisco Bay.
(a beat)
Of course, it's easy to
make someone look like no
one... But I'm always
tinkering with other methods.
Using the joystick, Hoag strips away the Informant's "new"
face and replaces it with a rotating FACIAL-SHELL -- fixed
at various anchor-points. Hoag's OWN IMAGE adheres on the
shell and he "sculpts" it to fit the Informant's skull.
HOAG (cont'd)
Using a morpho-genetic
template, the sub-structure
can be molded to the exact
shape of one man's skull;
the outside -- exactly like
another's.
(admires his own image --
now on the Informant)
Vast improvement, isn't it?
ARCHER
So it is possible?
HOAG
To temporarily borrow another
man's face? Oh, yes. I can
think of only one reason why
it's never been done --
(a beat)
-- no one's ever asked.
ARCHER
But will you do it?
HOAG
Without approval -- totally
off the books as you say?
Commander, your proposal
would cost me my job and
get me banished from every
respectable medical
society in the world.
(a beat)
That's why I like it.
But can you find a
volunteer in time?
ARCHER
-- I already have.
HOAG almost asks "who" -- then stares at Archer and
understands -- there's no one else for this job.
INT. ARCHER'S HOUSE -- NIGHT
The door to JAMIE'S room is plastered with news headlines
and disturbing photos of police beatings and government
corruption. Loud music pounds out from within. ARCHER
pauses to knock -- then doesn't. He lets it go.
INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT
ARCHER undresses, looking in the mirror. Smooth-chested and
reasonably toned -- he's getting a bit of a gut.
INT. BEDROOM -- CONTINUOUS -- NIGHT
EVE is in bed. ARCHER comes in quietly and sits beside her
-- studying her peaceful, half-sleeping face. She stirs.
EVE
... I was dreaming...
ARCHER
Something good?
EVE
We were back in high school.
You wanted to join the sky
diving team, but I wouldn't
let you.
ARCHER
Must've been after we
got engaged.
EVE
Actually -- in this dream
-- I was your mother.
ARCHER
So you had a nightmare.
EVE
Totally -- you were being
very, very bad. You went
up in the plane and jumped
out. You had a parachute,
but it didn't open.
ARCHER
Were you there to catch me?
EVE
No.
ARCHER
How come?
EVE
I don't know...
(nuzzles him)
Maybe because you've
never needed my help.
They kiss -- and keep kissing. Their passion building, EVE
runs her hands over his body -- reaching, touching.
She pulls apart his shirt -- buttons popping -- revealing a
thick round SCAR on his chest. Her fingertips touch the
bullet scar. ARCHER freezes mid-caress.
EVE (cont'd)
It's all right, Jon.
But he is pulling away. She won't let him -- she tugs him
back onto the bed and enfolds him in her arms, holding him.
ARCHER
Five years... I still
can't get it out of my
head -- an inch to the left,
Matty would still be alive.
EVE
And you wouldn't be.
No response. The pain hidden in his stoic detachment chills
Eve. She musters a hopeful tone.
EVE (cont'd)
Things will get better
now that you're home.
Everything will be better
now that... that man is
finally out of our lives.
ARCHER
Eve...
He starts to mouth the words. He wants, needs to share the
truth with her. But he can't. Instead --
ARCHER (cont'd)
... If I had to do something
to find some closure... I
should do it, shouldn't I?
... No matter how crazy?
EVE
What are you saying?
(realizes)
Oh, God -- you're going
on assignment again...
ARCHER
One last time. It's important...
EVE
You said you'd be here!
You promised me -- you
promised Jamie! What
could be more important
than that?
ARCHER
I can't tell you...
except only I can do it.
EVE
You want me to tell you
it's okay to leave? Okay,
go on! GO!
Fury erupting, Eve pushes Archer out of the bed. He
stumbles out of the room.
INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT
Archer trudges past Jamie's room.
INT. BEDROOM -- NIGHT
He enters a boy's room -- neat and tidy, like a museum
exhibit which, in a sense, it is.
ARCHER clicks the wall switch -- no bulb. He lies down on
the small bed and stares at the ceiling.
A STARFIELD
twinkles back at him... made of stick-on fluorescent stars
and comets and day-glo stardust that spells "Matthew."
ARCHER
Am I crazy, Matty?
ARCHER'S weary eyes close as the stardust twinkles brightly.
DISSOLVE TO: BRIGHT LIGHTS -- the San Francisco skyline --
dominated by the twin Transamerica Towers.
INT. TRANSAMERICA-TWO BUILDING -- NIGHT
A MAINTENANCE WORKER sweeps up -- until a RAT scurries by.
Annoyed, the man follows the vermin with the broom -- poking
around -- trying to flush it out.
Squeezing behind some DUCTS -- he spots something HIDDEN...
something GLOWING RED -- tapped into this a/c vent.
He leans in closer and... BREAKS AN ELECTRIC EYE -- the
bomb's self-defense motion-detector. Instantly a YELLOW
LIGHT BEAM flashes -- finds the MAN'S FACE. HISSSS!
A pinpoint of gas sprays him. He recoils and runs out.
EXT. BUILDING -- CONTINUOUS -- NIGHT
Gasping for breath, the Man forces open an access door.
That's better. Then... he CONVULSES VIOLENTLY. Twitching,
shuttering, he FALLS... dropping like a wounded bird.
EXT. ALLEY BELOW -- CONTINUOUS -- NIGHT
Splattered in the gutter, the man looks like just another
jumper in the heartless big city.
INT. NSA -- ARCHER'S OFFICE -- DAY
Archer memorizes the CD-ROM images before him:
Surveillance footage of CASTOR dancing in a crowded night-
club with a sexy but doped-up WOMAN. They're necking.
ARCHER
Sasha Plummer, 28, single,
mother of one. Met Castor
Troy in Berkeley at a Pearl
Jam reunion. Felony convictions:
two counts, drug running.
She has a tattoo of a 1956
Buick on her right ankle.
ZOOM in on the tattoo as the door opens -- TITO enters.
TITO
Castor himself didn't
know half this crap,
and it was his life.
(hands Archer a disk)
What do you want with
the prison lay-out?
That place is so tight,
you couldn't squeeze
a fart out of there.
Archer keeps working -- the image of Sasha MORPHS into
footage of a slick, Eurotrash-type -- DIETRICH HASSLER (45).
ARCHER
Dietrich Hassler. 45.
Biochemist. Dismissed from
the FDA on charges of...
Tito shuts down the machine.
TITO
Jon, this is goddam insane.
You can't go through with it.
(no response)
What about Eve?
ARCHER
She doesn't know -- and she
never will.
TITO
You haven't got a chance in
hell of fooling Pollux.
Castor drinks, smokes and
walks around with a 24-hour
hard-on. He's nothing
like you.
ARCHER
Don't worry. I've done
my homework. I'll get
Pollux to talk.
TITO
Either way, come Saturday
morning -- I'm pulling you
the hell out of there.
EXT. HOAG INSTITUTE -- DAY (ESTABLISHING)
The sun rises over a gated compound in the Berkeley hills.
INT. FACILITY -- O.R. -- DAY
ON MONITORS: CASTOR'S body is being prepped.
PULL BACK: Hoag confers with the ARCHIVE TECHY who's taping
the procedure.
DR. HOAG
Let's walk through it, Commander.
(a beat)
Your blood types are different,
but surgically compatible. The
height difference is negligible
-- within 1/2 an inch. The feet
are close enough. Penis size,
flaccid, essentially the same.
(a beat)
Substantial.
TWO NURSES exchange a glance.
DR. HOAG (cont'd)
Eye color will be handled
with a retinal dye. Body
hair -- with micro-grafts.
Teeth, a little cosmetic
bonding. The tattoos will
be -- tattooed. Fingerprints
-- we'll use an organic skin
mold and a little Crazy Glue.
ARCHER
Kid's stuff.
THE TRANSFORMATION
TATTOOS: A tattoo artist recreates the COLOSSUS OF RHODES
on ARCHER'S thigh as his assistant outlines the remaining
six "Ancient Wonders of the World."
TEETH: DR. HOAG works like an artist -- matching the color
and shape of CASTOR'S teeth.
EYES: Lids pinned back -- micro-needles plunge into
ARCHER'S eyeballs. His irises WASH from brown to blue.
BODY HAIR: Hundreds of tiny grafts are "plugged" onto
ARCHER'S chest.
STOMACH: HOAG prods ARCHER'S love handles.
DR. HOAG
Abdominoplasty, Commander?
It's on the house.
ARCHER
Abdomino -- what?
DR. HOAG
A tummy tuck.
ARCHER
Do it.
Globules of adipose tissue siphon from ARCHER'S obliques.
CHEST SCAR: HOAG runs a finger along the jagged line.
DR. HOAG
You realize, Commander --
this has to go.
ARCHER looks at the scar -- then nods without a word. Two
surgeons begin to remove the dead tissue.
DR. HOAG (cont'd)
Let's see if I missed
anything before I get
my hands really dirty.
HOAG leads ARCHER to a mirror. Archer's amazed to see:
HIS OWN HEAD ON CASTOR'S BODY
He's got a flat stomach, chest hair, blue eyes -- the works.
Archer touches where his chest scar once was -- now gone.
EXT. HOAG'S FACILITY -- NIGHT
Clear and calm. God's night. Someone's God anyway.
INT. HOAG'S FACILITY -- NIGHT
ARCHER is wheeled into the high-tech surgical bay, CASTOR
beside him. Hoag wipes his brow -- he and his team have
been working for hours and now comes the hard part.
DR. HOAG
Here we go, Commander.
Through the Looking Glass...
ARCHER nods as the anesthesiologist injects his IV line. As
he drifts off, he can hear HOAG'S final instructions...
DR. HOAG (cont'd)
-- initial incision will be
made above the ear, extending
down behind the left earlobe,
then back up into the hairline.
Hoag turns to the ARCHIVE TECHNICIAN who's video-taping all.
DR. HOAG (cont'd)
Make sure you get everything
-- I'll need to study the tape
before reverse surgery.
Hoag sets the tip of the LASER against Archer's forehead.
A RED TARGET BEAM -- slender as a hair -- appears. HOAG
sights through the optical memory, squeezes the trigger and
-- a COBALT BEAM cuts above Archer's ear.
HOAG'S ASSISTANT performs the same procedure on CASTOR.
HOAG peels ARCHER'S face away from his skull.
HOAG carefully sinks Archer's face into a saline drip-tank.
DR. HOAG (cont'd)
Vault it.
The Nurse takes the container and rushes off. HOAG pulls
the MILKY TEMPLATE out of a saline dip and fits it over
Archer's facial sub-structure. It's a perfect fit.
DR. HOAG (cont'd)
Come on -- the other one!
His Assistant hurries -- peeling CASTOR'S face away.
CASTOR'S CONSISTENT EEG READING suddenly SPIKES RADICALLY --
for a moment, it almost seems to stabilize. The Assistant
glances over -- too late. The read-out returns to normal.
DISSOLVE TO:
A head swathed in gauze. The bandages start to fall away.
INT. RECOVERY ROOM -- DAY
HOAG removes the gauze. Gathering courage, Archer turns to
the mirror and sees his new face. The face of his most
hated enemy -- now HIS face.
Astounded, sickened to his core -- Archer has to catch his
breath as he realizes...
JON ARCHER HAS BECOME CASTOR TROY
TITO enters. Instinctively, he grabs for his holster.
ARCHER
It's me, Tito. It's Jon.
Tito smiles, realizes his reflexive stupidity.
ARCHER (cont'd)
It worked...
(clears throat)
Except for this.
DR. HOAG
Yes -- the voice.
ARCHER'S voice still sounds exactly like ARCHER. HOAG
prods around Archer's adam's apple.
DR. HOAG (cont'd)
I implanted a micro-chip
onto your larynx -- a
prototype developed for
throat cancer survivors.
HOAG switches on a digital recording. ARCHER repeats CASTOR'S
words as HOAG adjusts the chip with hand-held remote.
CASTOR'S VOICE ARCHER
I'm a Catholic, goddamn I'm a Catholic, goddamn
it! Why would I shoot it! Why would I shoot
the Pope? the Pope?
After a few repetitions, ARCHER'S VOICE matches perfectly --
if a little hoarse.
DR. HOAG (cont'd)
As your chords adjust, the
scratchiness will pass.
ARCHER yawns, squints and furrows his brow -- testing every
muscle. Slowly he turns to...
CASTOR. Motionless, swathed, dead to the world -- but
something about Castor's EYES -- those mocking eyes...
TITO
Now what?
ARCHER
Call Lazarro. Castor
just came out of his coma.
EXT. NSA HELIPORT -- DAY
A squad of MARINES double-time through a concrete passage
and takes up position around a helipad. A jet-black
helicopter drops from the sky like an angry wasp.
EXT. HELI-PAD -- DAY
A second squad of Marines marches out. In their midst --
Tito escorts a heavily-manacled "Castor."
TITO
This is it, Jon. For
the next 72 hours --
you're on your own.
ARCHER
Just make sure you're
there. On time.
Two armed AGENTS leap from the chopper and take charge of
"Castor." He follows them pliantly until --
TITO
Watch this hard-case --
he'll bite your nuts off
if he gets the chance!
ARCHER gets the message. He starts to resist the Agents and
must be muscled into the chopper. He's manacled down.
An AGENT starts to pull a HOOD over Archer's head. EYE-
CONTACT between Archer and Tito -- both aware of this very
real point of departure. The hood comes down.
ARCHER
Do I get a meal on
this flight?
The AGENT smashes his elbow into ARCHER'S gut. The door shuts
-- the CHOPPER lifts off like a twister and screams away.
EXT. BALCONY ABOVE -- DAY
The gang breaks up, wanders back to work.
LOOMIS
What a week for Commander
Archer to go on vacation.
Maybe we should let him know.
WANDA
Forget it. He left strict
orders not to be tracked down.
BUZZ
He'll shit when he finds
out Castor pulled through.
WANDA
If he shits at all.
BUZZ
Probably doesn't.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. STEEL HOLDING PEN -- EREWHON PRISON
Day or night? Who knows -- there's no natural light.
Groggy, ARCHER stirs -- and removes his hood.
He gets up -- and paces the tiny cubicle. There are no
doors, no windows -- the room appears seamless. Even more
odd, his movements don't make a sound. TOTAL SILENCE.
Archer BANGS on the wall, silently. Then he opens his mouth
and YELLS, also silently. Has he gone mad?
The faintest PNEUMATIC sound causes Archer to whirl. Now
behind him: a pair of gleaming METAL BOOTS.
VOICE
Put on the boots
He examines them -- they're lined with electro-skin sensors.
VOICE (cont'd)
Don't sniff 'em, you
perv. Just put 'em on.
Archer does as he's told. Instantly, the boots
automatically lace -- they shrink and lock onto his feet.
The WALLS PART -- revealing head guard WALTON.
Archer tries to move -- he can't, not even an inch.
ARCHER
They're too tight.
WALTON
So's a noose. Now keep
your mouth SHUT.
For emphasis, WALTON jolts ARCHER with his high-voltage
SHOCK-STICK. Archer buckles. Two more GUARDS enter. They
cut away Archer's clothes.
WALTON (cont'd)
You are now an inmate of the
world's toughest prison. In
here -- you are no one. You
own nothing. When I say
your ass belongs to me -- I
mean it. Bend over.
Archer hesitates -- but Walton hefts the shock-stick.
Archer relents -- his face reflects the degradation. Naked,
he exposes all to the cavity-searching Guard.
WALTON (cont'd)
The entire prison's one
big magnetic field. The
boots'll tell us where
you are -- every second
of the day. Now WALK.
Archer takes a clumsy step -- acclimating to the boots.
INT. SECURITY -- ANNEX
Archer enters, now dressed in plain prison blues. From this
annex, he can see into SECURITY CENTRAL. It looks like an
air traffic control tower -- with monitors designed to keep
problems and privacy at a minimum.
Walton grabs Archer's RIGHT THUMB and presses it into a
console security screen. It forms an ELECTRONIC PRINT --
positively identifying "Castor".
WALTON
I've got fifty bucks says
you're dead by dinner.
Don't disappoint me.
INT. GENERAL POPULATION -- DAY
Totally enclosed -- except sunlight and cloudy blue skies
peek through a small SKYLIGHT -- five stories above.
100 Inmates crowd tables as Trustees dole out the food.
Silence falls as ARCHER enters. One huge inmate, DOBBS,
does a slow burn on seeing "Castor."
ARCHER stares the inmates down and takes a seat. he scans
the room -- looking for Pollux.
LITTLE MAN
Hey, Castor -- remember me?
ARCHER looks across the table. The mustache is familiar.
ARCHER
Waxy Wright. Didn't
Jon Archer bust you for
poisoning five members of
the Canadian parliament?
WAXY
They never should've voted
against U.S. statehood --
the scumbags.
(a beat)
We heard you got wasted.
ARCHER sees the other inmates sizing him up.
ARCHER
Do I look wasted -- asshole?
WAXY
(nervous)
You look great, Castor.
Really. Here -- I got a
shot of your favorite --
Mescal. Even has the worm.
WAXY hands over a baby-food jar filled with Mescal. ARCHER
eyes it with trepidation, but everyone's waiting. He downs
it -- choking, sucking back his urge to puke.
ARCHER
-- Hit the spot.
Suddenly DOBBS leaps onto ARCHER and starts pummeling him.
They slide across the table -- spilling everyone's lunch.
INT. SECURITY CENTRAL -- DAY
The DEPUTY gets two RED BLIPS on his monitor.
DEPUTY
I've got bio-rhythm jumps
-- two -- at the eatery.
SECURITY CHIEF
Lock 'em down.
INT. GENERAL POPULATION -- DAY
INMATES encircle them as Dobbs throws Archer across the room
and stalks him. Dazed, Archer staggers to his feet -- and
sees the inmates looking at him -- unimpressed.
Especially his "brother" Pollux -- who stares dubiously.
DOBBS wades into Archer again -- this time Archer is ready.
He blocks Dobbs's fist and punches back -- then...
ZAP! The magnetic boots lock both Dobbs and Archer in
place. They can't move their feet. Dobbs flails hopelessly
-- but Archer's just out of reach.
CRACK! WALTON punches ARCHER in the diaphragm.
ARCHER
What? He started it!
WALTON smashes ARCHER harder -- he hits the floor.
ARCHER (cont'd)
When I get out of here --
WALTON
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