COLD HEART KID "Pilot" Written by Noah Dean Houston Based on characters created by Noah Dean Houston theboringmiddle@gmail.com (731) 499-4839 © This script is the property of Noah Dean Houston. No portion of this script may be performed, reproduced or used by any means, or disclosed to, quoted or published in any medium without the prior written consent of Noah Dean Houston. All rights reserved. THE HUM OF THE WORLD IS QUIET. ITS HOLLOWED CORE ECHOES QUIETLY. FADE IN: EXT. HOLIDAY'S CAMP - NIGHT The landscape is tarnished and torn, the skeletal remains of a dead city stain the faraway horizon. A burning barrel illuminates the end of a severed bridge lined with the abandoned cars of failed evacuees; HOLIDAY'S CAMP. A RUSTED CHAIR creaks under the heft of a figure twice the size of the average man, HOLIDAY The wide, flat brim of his hat covers his eyes, a DOG-END hangs limply from his lip. He sits with his back against the edge of the BROKEN BRIDGE and a HUNDRED FOOT DROP. With a snap, the TIP of his FINGER unravels, producing a FLAME. He lights the CIGARETTE with his FINGER and... ...he inhales the remaining CIGARETTE in ONE DEEP BREATH. The STUB is flicked into the fire, FLAMES RISE, HOLIDAY's face is illuminated in breaths; COLD STEEL and patches of ARTIFICIAL SKIN, grey as a corpse, vignette what's left of his browned, worn face. LEVI (O.S.) Can't be good fer yer lungs. What's left of 'em. Holiday pushes up the brim of his hat, with his hand in the position of a DUAL BARRELLED FINGER-GUN, to see his visitor LEVI , a young, unimpressive RUSTPUNK COWBOY just shy of 20 years, approaches from down the roadway, stepping into the light of the fire across from Holiday. Holiday's BLACK EYES glow VIOLET. LEVI What's tickin' tinman? Levi's BELT hangs low on his THIN FRAME. His hand rests on his REVOLVER at his HIP. It's CYLINDER GLOWS an ENVIOUS GREEN Holiday lets his hat tilt back down over his eyes. HOLIDAY with tenderness Walk away, son. Not now. Holiday is matter of fact He doesn't toy with his words. He lays them out right in front of you. (CONT'D) ( ) LEVI Somethin' wrong , Holiday?... The WRY SMILE stretching across Levi's leather-like skin might deceive you into thinking he was anything more than a man outside of his depth He tilts his head in feigned sympathy, nodding along as he speaks. LEVI ...Hard times down south o' Del Rio ? At the mention of DEL RIO, Holiday's eye almost imperceptibly twitches. HOLIDAY Don't speak on things you don't know. Holiday stays as relaxed a man made of stone could. His BODY DOESN'T FLINCH; his muscles don't move unless told to. Levi's lip quivers. He pulls the belt of his pants up and puffs out his chest. LEVI Heh. Well. Turns out I do know a little something. H.K. caught wind of you was takin' jobs down there. Seemed you was lost on bringin' 'im back his cut. I came to be yer compass. HOLIDAY No jobs in Del Rio. But he wouldn't know that. LEVI through grit teeth And why's that? Holiday peers at Levi past the brim of his hat. HOLIDAY Outside of his jurisdiction. Levi snaps. LEVI NOTHIN'S OUTSIDE OF HUNDRED KARAT 'S JOO-RESS-DICSHUN! HOLIDAY Careful, son. It's not too late to turn back. Don't let the weight of him take you down with it. (CONT'D) ( ) 2. Levi's lip twitches, tears well in his eyes. He huffs. LEVI Ya never said much, Holiday... Levi stabs his finger at Holiday through the fire. LEVI ..but ya always managed to say too much! voice shaking You didn't even say bye, y'know? You just left. Levi wipes his tears with his sleeve. LEVI You-You couldn't be blood... but you might as well been kin! I revered you, Holiday... Holiday's eye does that thing again, near imperceptibly twitches. He rocks back on the hind legs of his metal chair, the hinges squeak. HOLIDAY There's nothin' in me to be revered. Levi nods. LEVI I s'pose not. Took me this long to see. They built you too stubborn to care. Holiday sits forward, his HEAVY BOOTS SCRAPE across the asphalt like a record scratch through Levi's smear. HOLIDAY Is this why you found me? Daddy doesn't pay you in attention, so you trudge all this way to come whine to me ? Levi recoils at Holiday's harsh shift. LEVI Pft, I-- Levi's attempt to respond is swiftly stomped out. (CONT'D) ( ) (CONT'D) 3. HOLIDAY (CONT'D) You never were cut out for this work, Levi. I knew it. Your daddy knew it. I just wish you had. LEVI You don't know shit! HOLIDAY I know that some folks make money, and some folks are made by it. Money can't make a man much more than it has you The air goes silent. For a moment, Levi doesn't move, he just stares at the fire. A chill is felt through a bleak WIDE FRAME, the two separated by the fire burning between them and the cold morning air around them. Levi's shoulders begin to bounce. He starts to chuckle. LEVI spiteful If I was made by money, Holiday... Levi lurches forward and shines his gnarly teeth. LEVI ... you was built by it! Holiday pulls his HAT back down OVER HIS EYES; his next words will pull Levi's trigger. HOLIDAY Better to be built by it, than born a bastard to it. LEVI YOU COLD-HEARTED SONUVA BI-- Levi goes to DRAW his firearm; too late. Holiday draws, TIME SLOWS, his hand RECONSTRUCTS itself into something very much REAL. BRIGHT LIGHT ECLIPSES the CAMP, the FIRE is BLOWN OUT, and a beam of PURE FORCE sears through Levi. With a baseball-sized hole now through his abdomen, Levi looks back up at Holiday, his eyes glazing fast. LEVI with his last breath Almost gotcha. He smiles and drops to the dirt with a thud Dead air. Silence. ( ) (CONT'D) (CONT'D) ( ) 4. Holiday's brow jumps. He stares at the BODY that was Levi. He squeezes his eyes shut and goes to switch his HAND, now turned GUN, back... ...it won't budge. HOLIDAY Shit. C'mon. He smacks it with his OFF HAND. A SECOND BLAST MISFIRES out the barrel, beaming up and whistling ACROSS THE NIGHT SKY; a misguided SHOOTING STAR Holiday stares somberly at the BODY as his brush PAINTS THE SKY. His GUN HAND starts to shake. He steadies it with his OFF HAND. He reaches for a PINK IPOD NANO in the loop of his belt and unravels a pair of DINGY YELLOWED EARPODS, putting them in his ears. He rolls the wheel with his thumb and hits play.. .. "TIME IN A BOTTLE" by Jim Croce PLAYS as Holiday walks away from his camp, down the BRIDGE, into the SUNRISE, over the MONTAGE. CUT TO: BEGIN MONTAGE: A series of shots of the SURROUNDING COUNTY and its INHABITANTS watch as VIOLET PIERCES THEIR NIGHT SKY. --A GANG of sharply dressed men BEAT a man in an alleyway. They drop their target and walk curiously toward the SHOOTING STAR -- A neglected old CAT picks at a skull atop the remains of the ALAMO, STILL STANDING in a FLATTENED SAN ANTONIO. --A YOUNG BOY sits up in his bed, watching the SHOOTING STAR through a hole in the roof above him. --A kindly, UNDETONATED NUCLEAR BOMB shell sits planted in the dirt, covered in overgrowth. --miles and miles of destruction and desolation. CUT TO: INT. BROKEN BUILDING - NIGHT We settle on a game of cards in the upper floor of a NEAR-DESTROYED BUILDING. 5. A group of GANGSTERS, OUTLAWS, and other DEGENERATE LOW-LIFES engage energertically in their game when the VIOLET spears the night sky. One of the men, PARLIAMENT , stands from the table, placing his CARDS FACE UP; a ROYAL FLUSH. He's draped in an ALL-BLACK, FIVE-PIECE SUIT; his BLACK HAIR cleanly SLICKED BACK, a haunting REDNESS surrounds his BABY BLUES deep in the sockets of his GAUNT, PALE FACE. He walks toward the walless facade of the building to watch the SHOOTING STAR, puffing on a PIPE OF SOLID IVORY, trimmed with GOLD. DEGENERATE LOW-LIFE 1 Waste of a good wish, Parliament. The pot was still thirsty Parliament clears his PIPE. He retrieves a HANDKERCHIEF from his coat pocket, wraps the PIPE, and carefully knocks the ash out against the bricks. He puts the PIPE carefully back into his POCKET. PARLIAMENT Not a wish to be granted off a star like that Parliament's voice is like butter Every word so lubricated with his sophisticated southern draw, you slip right into listening to him. Parliament retrieves a GOLDEN POCKET WATCH from his waistcoat and flicks it open. A DIGITAL SCREEN flickers to life inside its clamshell. He holds it up to his mouth; an outgoing message. PARLIAMENT Looks like our vacation isn't over yet. DEGENERATE LOW-LIFE 2 What's that yer speakin on? You in for another hand? That luck of yers boutta run dry, I feels it. Parliament claps the POCKET WATCH shut and returns to the poker table to rake up his WINNINGS. PARLIAMENT Afraid not, gentlemen. I think I'll be taking my winnings out on Holiday A METAL HAND clamps down on his RIGHT FOREARM and squeezes (CONT'D) 6. DEGENERATE LOW-LIFE 3 I think you ought to try your luck for one last hand, lest you lose another. PARLIAMENT Quite the threat. Parliament thrusts his FREE HAND out over the table. The table jumps. A BLACK ROSARY wrapped around his wrist drops and dangles just BELOW HIS PALM. PARLIAMENT Any of you fellas men of faith? The table doesn't respond. PARLIAMENT shrugging Might be worth considerin'. looking to his aggressor Quite the mighty fine meat-hook you got there. Parliament looks to the METAL HAND gripping his wrist. PARLIAMENT Spend all your gamblin' money on that upgrade ? DEGENERATE LOW-LIFE 3 Whole lotta brass for a man without an ounce of wear on 'im. PARLIAMENT Judge not, lest ye be judged. The METAL HAND tightens its grip. DEGENERATE LOW-LIFE 3 We're beyond the end of days, no scriptures gon' save you now. DEGENERATE LOW-LIFE 1 I think you best leave 'im be, Jameson. Y'know why they call 'im Parliament ? DEGENERATE LOW-LIFE 3 eyes seer into Parliament Why? Cause he dresses like a queer ? Parliament smiles courteously PING. (CONT'D) (CONT'D) ( ) ( ) (CONT'D) ( ) 7. Parliament FLICKS one of the COINS into the air, the table's EYES FOLLOW. The COIN comes back down, bounces, spins, rolls, and rests; It's heads. Parliament's hand is no longer in the grip of the degenerate's METAL HAND; He's vanished DEGENERATE LOW-LIFE 3 What in tha hell? DEGENERATE LOW-LIFE 2 Shit , fire! DEGENERATE LOW-LIFE 1 Aw, now you've went and done it! Parliament's DISEMBODIED VOICE echoes around the table, a RED HAZE trails behind it, carried away from where he once stood. PARLIAMENT (O.S.) ghastly voice For with what judgment ye judge. The table all draw their guns. Parliament appears behind Degenerate Low-Life 3 in a cloud of BLOOD-RED SMOKE and presses the barrel of his gun to the back of his head. PARLIAMENT Ye shall be judged. Parliament executes the man; brains and circuitry decorate the table. (CONT'D) ( ) (CONT'D) 8.