THE BLACK HOUSE - PAGE 5 & 6
- Near the roof’s edge, three stories up. MISTER JORDAN (35), a big, fit guy, as should be a former Navy SEAL. In solid black special forces gear, no insignias or rank markings. He looks through high tech binoculars at a building across a wide street. Below is the bookselling bazaar district. Outside the green zone.
SUPER: MUTANABBI STREET
BAGHDAD, IRAQ
- Behind him, shifting around impatiently, is LAURIANO, an 17-year-old cholo in Dodgers’ blue who couldn’t be much more out of place.
- LAURIANO
- You don’t got any Scooby snacks?
- Mister Jordan reaches into a flap pocket and pulls out a pack of cookies and flings it over his shoulder. Lauriano catches it and starts snacking
- MISTER JORDAN
- Now shut up.
- Jordan’s headset BEEPS.
- MISTER JORDAN
- Jordan, go ahead.
- MARYA (HEADSET)
- Confirmation on Al-Haque. Well, sort of.
- MISTER JORDAN
- MARYA (HEADSET)
- Just-- You don’t want to know. And I don’t want to say it. Mission is green. Fox out.
- Lauriano adjust his radio earpiece.
- LAURIANO
- I hear dat.
- Lauriano takes off his shirt, then MORPHS INTO A WEREWOLF. He’s the same size and general shape he was before, but has fur, sharp teeth, a snout and, most importantly for this, haunches.
- MISTER JORDAN
- If the Old Man is supplying Al-Haque like the intel says, then there’s no telling what heebie jeebie junk he’s got in there. Immobilize him out of the gate.
- Lauriano SNARLS in reply, then runs and leaps off the roof’s edge, clears the street and lands on the other roof.
- Old Man’s rooftop. Lauriano lands and proceeds to a large vent.
- MISTER JORDAN
- And I don’t give a rat’s ass if your great granddad was the chupacabra. You do what I tell you. Do not kill. Yet.
- Lauriano looks back at Jordan across the street, acknowledging the order. He MORPHS INTO A COMMON WOLF and jumps down a vent. Image changes to THERMAL. Jordan moves his view down to a top floor window. Visible are Lauriano’s HEAT SIGNATURE moving down the vent and the Old Man’s, in the top floor window.
- Mister Jordan watching. Calm, then dismayed, Lowers the binocs, trying to get a look with his naked eye.
- MISTER JORDAN
- Sonuvabitch.
- Pun intended.
©2024 Michael Patrick Sullivan
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