(no subject)

[lanatil]

          EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT

          Deep shadows cut across the pavement and creep up the moist
          brick walls of buildings closing in around the alley. The
          scant light filtering from the streetlamps refracts into
          hazy auras as steam curls up from gutters and random
          puddles. Scraps of posters among other detritus litter the
          area. One propaganda-like poster ominously proclaims : "It's
          the End. It's our fault!" Another poster tacked to a
          building reads: "Seeing ghosts? We do too! Call-" the rest
          has been ripped away.

          A silhouette falls across the brick walls as a male voice
          filters through the quiet night.

                              VOICE (OS)
                    I know it's late, honey, but just
                    calling to let you know I'm on my
                    way home now.

          As if to prove how late it is, a clock tower begins to
          intone midnight. The silhouette pushes through the rising
          alley's steam with a determined gate, revealing TOM DAVIES.
          He's an average looking, middle aged man bundled in an
          overcoat and scarf. He's holding a mobile phone in one hand,
          a thick briefcase in the other.

                              TOM
                    Meeting went well, just so you
                    know. Lots of sightings over the
                    last week, of all sorts.

          He heads further down the alley clearly aiming at an older
          car parked at the end.

                              TOM
                    Which is great! Things seem to be
                    more active than ever. All the
                    research I've done into-

          Suddenly, the lights of the area brown out, but quickly
          return to normal. Tom hesitates, looking around himself
          before searching for his car keys in his coat pocket.

                              TOM
                    ...into, uh, into the phantoms is
                    really going to push more people to
                    accept the truth.

          In the BG a shadow breaks away from a building corner
          without making a sound. It's not a flat shadow, there is
          mass to it that seems to build as it slips closer to Tom
          standing in the middle of the road. He quickly looks around
          himself again.

                              TOM
                    But you've heard me babble enough
                    about it. I'm at the car now, see
                    you soon, Lana.

          As he drops his hand away with the phone, there is a
          distinct, gutteral GROWL rumbling from behind him. Tom whips
          around to see two smokey green orbs watching him from a
          large shadow about 20 feet away.

                              TOM
                    Oh...Christ.

          The green orbs slide closer to him dragging the shadow with
          them. Tom watches, frozen to the spot, as what seemed to be
          shadow starts to solidify into a black, solid mass. Glowing
          green cracks marble out from the narrowing orbs, as the
          steam still rising from the gutters blends into the creature
          stalking closer. The shape it's taking is like a feline, but
          it's hard to tell because its outline is constantly blurred
          like it's wrapped in black smoke. There are just glimpses of
          razorsharp teeth, and long talon-like claws. Tom takes a
          small step back.

                              TOM
                    Phantom. I'm not afraid of you!

          The declaration doesn't work against the creature still
          pacing closer. With each step the streetlights grow brighter
          and brighter. A HUM begins to build. With each step the
          phantom becomes more defined; the green ethereal marbling
          covers its entirety. The HUM is getting painfully loud,
          growing with the intensity of the light. Tom's instincts
          seem to break through his frozen state as he pivots in an
          attempt to escape the snarling monster. He makes it one step
          before the creature lunges, all teeth, claws and green
          energy. Everything whites out from the bright light of
          overpowered lamps before they explode, plunging the area
          back into darkness.

          INT.  JAKE'S APARTMENT - THE NEXT MORNING

          Soft sunlight filters into the small apartment living room
          highlighting a multitude of cardboard packing boxes. They're
          everywhere, some precariously balanced, others over packed.
          A few have darkened edges, charred spots covered by melted
          packing tape. The rest of the apartment isn't much, just a
          cookie-cutter studio with a small kitchen and tiny nook to
          eat at. Everything is clean and neat.

          JAKE HARPER, 36, is leaning into one of the charred boxes
          pulling random items out. Books, file folders, a few stacks
          of papers. Everything is yellowed with obvious water damage.
          He leans back with a worn photo album in his hands. He rolls
          back from his squating position to stare silently at the
          album. He runs a hand through his shaggy, dark brown hair,
          takes a steadying breath and flips open the cover. Most of
          the pictures are warped from the water damage so badly it's
          not possible to tell what they used to be of.

          He grimly flips a few pages then stops as a few photos stuck
          together slip onto the floor. Jake scoops them up and
          delicately pries them apart trying to salvage any bit of
          them. What he's left with is an image of a blonde,
          middle-aged woman grinning from ear to ear as she salutes
          the camera with her beer. Her arm thrown around a person
          unknown since the picture was torn from Jakes efforts to
          seperate it from the others. He runs a thumb across the
          picture lovingly.

          RING!

          Jake throws his head back with a deep sigh in a mannor of
          'why me?' before tossing the album in his lap onto the pile
          of damaged items. His mobile is still ringing merrily in the
          kitchen as he stands to make is way over to it. He snatches
          it off the counter in irritation, not bothering to check who
          it is calling. Leaning against the counter, still staring at
          the photo of the woman, he answers his phone.

                              JAKE
                    Nope, sorry, I'm still leaving,
                    Sam. Say what you want. Mind's not
                    changing. I'm through with all of
                    it. Need the change.

          He leaves the kitchen still staring at the photo. The person
          on the other end of the call is silent.

                              JAKE
                    Sam? Ah, I finally got through to
                    you, huh? Look...my plane leaves at
                    four. I'm getting the last box
                    sorted for the truck guys now. I
                    have to do this. There's just too
                    many memories here, and I-

                              VOICE ON PHONE
                    Would you shut up for a minute?

          Jake stops as he finally looks at the phone's I.D. then
          laughing quietly he responds while placing the damaged photo
          into a box before closing the flaps.

                              JAKE
                    Lana? What are you up to, afraid
                    your little brother can't pack up
                    his life...what's left of it,
                    anyway, on his own?

                              LANA (OS)
                    Jake.

                              JAKE
                         (Deflated)
                    Tell me.

                              LANA (OS)
                    Tom was murdered last night.

          Jake is stunned into silence. He stares at the air in front
          of him as his sister's words sink in, his eyes cast back
          over to the box he just packed the photo into.

                              JAKE
                    Shit. Lana. Where are you?

                              LANA
                    Home. I got the call about an hour
                    ago. Jake.

                              JAKE
                    Sit tight. I'll be right there.
                    I'll call Chuck and get the details
                    on my way over.

          He was grabbing his keys, frantically searching for his
          jacket. He starts for the door.

                              JAKE (CONT'D)
                    I'll make sure the case is done
                    right. It's the least I can do
                    before I leave.

                              LANA
                    There's more Jake. You can't leave.
                    I need you to take Tom's case.

          Jake is at his front door, hand resting on the handle. He
          sighs tiredly, leaning his forehead against the sturdy wood.

                              JAKE
                    Lana. I quit remember? I can't take
                    it anymore, not since Lisa...

                              LANA
                         (Distress starting to slip
                         into voice)
                    I know. God, Jake, I know it's been
                    rough since you lost Lisa, but
                    please. They told me it was a
                    mugging, but there's no way it
                    could have been.

                              JAKE
                    I'm going to come over, we'll get
                    it all sorted. I promise.

                              LANA
                    Call Sam. Please! He's already at
                    the scene! Just go look around
                    before you come over. If even you
                    think it was just a mugging, then I
                    won't ask you anymore. Jake?

          He rolls his eyes, squeezes them shut, bangs his head
          against his door a couple times before letting out his held
          breath.

                              JAKE
                    Damnit, Lana. Fine. I'll go see
                    what happened. You stay home until
                    I get over there.

                              LANA
                    I'll be here.

                              JAKE
                    Call me for any reason, OK? You
                    shouldn't be alone. Trust me, I
                    know.

                              LANA
                    Thanks, Jake. Really.

                              JAKE
                    What are brothers for, hm?

          He wrenches the door open and leaves his apartment.

                             
                   


 
I figured out how to painlessly post my script pages and preserve the proper formatting. The only down side is they're formatted a little er.. narrow. But! Feel assured that this is accurate to how it would be printed on a 8x11 piece of paper :D Don't you feel special now?