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FADE IN: CITY OF ANGELS lies spread out beneath us in all its splendor, like a bargain basement Promised Land. CAMERA SOARS, DIPS, WINDS its way SLOWLY DOWN, DOWN, bringing us IN OVER the city as we: SUPER MAIN TITLES. TITLES END, as we -- SPIRAL DOWN TOWARD a lush, high-rise apartment complex. The moon reflected in glass. CAMERA CONTINUES TO MOVE IN THROUGH billowing curtains, INTO the inner sanctum of a penthouse apartment, and here, boys and girls, is where we lose our breath, because -- spread-eagled on a sumptuous designer sofa lies the single most beautiful GIRL in the city. Blonde hair. A satin nightgown that positively glows. Sam Cooke MUSIC, crooning from five hundred dollar SPEAKERS. PASTEL colors. Window walls. New wave furniture tor- tured into weird shapes. It looks like robots live here. On the table next to the sleeping Venus lies an open bottle of pills ... next to that, a mirror dusted with cocaine. She rouses herself to smear some powder on her gums. As she does, we see from her eyes that she is thoroughly, completely whacked out of her mind... She stands, stumbles across the room, pausing to glance at a photograph on the wall: Two men. Soldiers. Young, rough-hewn, arms around each other. The Girl throws open the glass doors ... steps out onto a balcony, and there, beneath her, lies all of nighttime L.A. Panoramic splendor. Her hair flies, her expression. rapt, as she stands against this sea of technology. She is beautiful. On the balcony railing beside her stand three potted plants. The Girl sees them, picks one up. Looks over the balcony railing ... It is ten stories down to the parking lot. she squints, holds the plant over the edge. GIRL Red car. Drops the plant. Down it goes, spiralling end over end -- until, finally ... BAM -- ! SHATTERS. Dirt flies. A red Chevy is now minus a WINDSHIELD. The Girl takes another plant. GIRL Green car. She drops it. Green Dodge. Ten stories below, BAM Impact city. Scratch one paint job. Grabs the final plant and holds it out, saying: GIRL Blue car. POW. GLASS SHATTERS. Dirt sprays. A blue BMW this time. The Girl loves this game ... her expression is slightly crazed. She reaches for another plant -- There aren.t any. Her smile fades -- And for a moment, just a moment, the dullness leaves her eyes and she is suddenly, incredibly sober. And tears fill her eyes as she looks over the edge -- GIRL Yellow car. And jumps the railing. Plummets, head over heels like a rag doll. Hits the yellow car spot on. She lies, dead, like an extinguished dream. Still beautiful. CUT TO: EXT. BENEATH THE PIER NIGHT FOUR TOUGH-LOOKING DOCK WORKERS are camped out under the pier, warming themselves around a small bonfire, laughing loudly. Christmas decorations dangle above them from the pier, and empty beer cans litter the sand around them. CAMERA PUSHES IN to discover an old collie tied to one of the pilings. Then we realize that the dog is being tor- mented by the dock workers. They flick lighted matches at him. Shake their beers and spray him in the face. These guys are not rocket scientists. The dog cowers, tugging bn the rope. Tries to get away. All to the great amusement of its tormentors. One of them turns, laughing -- As a shadowy FIGURE strides calmly up to the fire: Long hair. Cigarette dangling from-lower lip. Shirt-tails hanging loose below the waist. Nothing threatening in his manner as he plops down beside the men, smiling. They are immediately on their guard. RIGGS (FIGURE) Happy holidays. Mind if I join you? PUNK #1 Yes. PUNK #2 Fuck off. Riggs smiles at him innocently. Strokes the collie’s fur with one hand. With the other, he reaches intb a paper sack and produces, a spanking new bottle of Jack Daniels, possibly the finest drink mankind has yet produced. RIGGS I need help drinking this. Cool? The dock workers exchange glances. There seems to be no harm in this. One of them frowns: PUNK #1 You a homo? RIGGS Do I look like a homo? PUNK #1 You got long hair. Homos got long hair. PUNK #3 I hate homos. Arrggh. Riggs shakes his head, laughs. RIGGS Boy, you guys are terrific. You make me laugh, you just do. At which point, appropriately enough, Punk #4 shakes a beer and sprays it in the old collie’s face. The DOG pulls away, WHINING. Riggs leans forward. RIGGS This your dog? Nice dog. And then, he proceeds to do a peculiar thing: He starts to talk to the dog -- in what seems to be the dog’s own language. Very weird, folks... He coos, snuffles, barks softly, then withdraws, listening, his ear to the dog’s muzzle. Riggs nods. Frowns. The others look on, puzzled. Then Riggs looks at each of the four dock workers. RIGGS Huh- You know what? He says he doesn.t want you to spray beer in his face. He says he just hates that. A pause. Uncomfortable. Then -- PUNK #1 Oh, he does ... ? (beat) Well, mister, why don.t you ask him what he likes...? The others snicker. Riggs simply nods. RIGGS Okay. And once again, begins to confer with the dog. Listens intently, piecing together what he is hearing. RIGGS What ... ? You want ... oh. Oh, hell no, I couldn.t do that ... Nossirree bob, you little nut. He ruffles the dog’s hair. The men are more puzzled than ever as Riggs turns and says: RIGGS (chuckling) Get this: He wants me to beat the shit out of you guys. Everything stops. A cloud passes over the assembled faces and a pin-dropping silence ensues. Riggs, completely heedless, once again attends to the dog: RIGGS What’s that ... ? The one ... in the middle... .is a stupid fat duck.... What ... ? (listens again) Oh ... Oh! A ’stupid fat fuck!. Right. He looks up, shakes his head. RIGGS Boy, this dog is pissed. The one in the middle grabs Riggs by the collar. Hoists him to his feet. Gulp. Stands, staring down at Riggs, whose eyes are completely neutral, like a snake’s. PUNK #1 Buddy, you.re shortening your life span. He flicks open a mean-looking switchblade. Riggs is dead meat. So why then, does he choose this moment to execute a Three Stooges. routine, consisting of nose tweak, eye gouge, and rotating fist that bobs the dock worker on the head... ? He’s nuts or something ... Riggs steps back and adopts a neutral fighting stance. The others begin to circle. The DOG BARKS. Riggs turns to the dog, but his eyes never leave his grinning attackers. RIGGS (to the collie) What’s that ... ? You want me to take the knife away... and break his elbow... ? Circling ... Riggs, watching them, his eyes beginning to dance ... Breathing slow and even... RIGGS But that would be excruciatingly painful ... Something inside Riggs is gearing up ... the others can perhaps sense it, their smiles falter a bit, they crouch, combat-ready... Riggs, eyes blazing ... RIGGS And if I separated the fat one’s shoulder... he.d probably scream... No doubt about it. We know from the look in Riggs. eyes he’s nuts. He wants the fight, badly, all four of them at once ... And then Punk #1 springs... Big mistake. Needless to say, mincemeat is made of the four meddlesome dog-torturers. The beach is littered with their writhing forms as Riggs does, finally, what he set out to do: Unties the dog. Starts to go. As he does, he pats his shirt ... Pats his jeans ... Realizes his wallet has flown free during the fracas. Scoops to retrieve it from its resting place on the sand, where it lies open, and as it lies open, yes, folks, that is a badge we see. Riggs, we realize, is an officer of the law. He lights a cigarette and notices the collie, seated. Frowns: RIGGS Okay, skeezix. Go on. Get outta here. He begins to walk away. The dog remains close at his heels. Following him. RIGGS No, no. Don.t follow me. I.m an asshole. Go away. The dog sits obediently and Riggs walks away. He can.t help it, looks back over his shoulder... Sees the dog watching him with a beseeching expression. Pitiful. RIGGS Aw, shit. He signals the dog. RIGGS Awright. Move it. Let’s go. The COLLIE BARKS happily and dashes toward him through the surf, kicking up sand and water. As they shuffle off against the palm-lined skyline, we hear, supered, Riggs. voice. RIGGS (V.O.) So. You live in the area? What’s your major ... ? And so on as we ... CUT TO: EXT. MURTAUGH’s HOUSE - PRE-DAWN Palm trees cast shadows on the lawn. Toys, lots of them, littered across the lawn. A Big Wheel, a G.I. Joe figure. Christmas lights are strung across the eaves. CUT TO: INT. HOUSE - BATHROOM SAME A real gun, a .38 Police Special, dangling in its hol- ster from the back of a chair. Next to it -- A real badge, gleaming in the light. It identifies its owner as LAPD Robbery/Homicide. ANOTHER ANGLE A birthday cake comes INTO FRAME. A set of matronly hands places it directly in front of -- DETECTIVE ROGER MURTAUGH Seated in the bathtub. He groans, throws a towel over himself, and mutters in mock indignation: Roger is tough: An old-fashioned fighter, wears his past like a scar. Piercing eyes; cynical. He is surrounded by his family; wife and three children, names and ages as follows: TRISH: Roughly thirty-eight. She used to be a stunner. NICK: Ten years old. Precocious. CARRIE: Age seven. Eyes like saucers. Adorable. RIANNE: Heartbreaker stuff, Seventeen. Takes your breath away folks. The cake is a real beauty. CARRIE Make a wish, Daddy. RIANNE Go for it, Dad. MURTAUGH (smiles) Go for it, huh...? Okay, I.ll go for it. He blows out the candles. Applause. His gaze lingers on -- the cake. Or rather, the message scrawled atop it in icing: WELCOME TO THE BIG 50 The presents arrive. CUT TO: EXT. SIMI VALLEY - MORNING The scorched landscape stretches out beneath a lattice- work of high-tension power lines. Only scrub grass grows here. Rusted railroad tracks wander into the distance, and nestled beside them, like the last stop before death -- sits a lonely trailer home. Battered TV antenna. A dirt yard which houses a beat-up pickup truck. Dead garden sprouting weeds. The ground begins to tremble ... like an earthquake, RATTLING the POWER POLES, as, without warning -- An express TRAIN BLASTS BY CAMEPA and streaks past the trailer at seventy miles an hour. INT. TRAILER HOME Now we are inside, the RUMBLING FAINTER ... And we are looking at a tired, chiseled face. Etched with line and shadow. Eyes closed, as the shadows from the speeding train strobe across DETECTIVE SERGEANT MARTIN RIGGS. Morning is not a good time for Riggs. The CLOCK RADIO suddenly BLARES to life: ’silver Belllls ... It’s Christmas Tiiime in the City.... Riggs snaps awake instantly. Alert. Tense. Face bathed in sweat. ANOTHER ANGLE He is not alone. In the doorway sits a thoroughly loveable black Labrador. Sitting stock still. Staring at Riggs, watching him sleep. Tail going thump-thump-thump on the carpet. Riggs sits up. Stares at the dog. RIGGS Sam, today is the first day ... of the rest of my life. He lights a cigarette. Inhales. Coughs and hacks. The TRAIN THROBS by outside, rattling his skull ... CUT TO: INT. MURTAUGH HOME - SAME TIME And it is a typical morning for Detective Roger Murtaugh. Chaos. The TELEVISION BLARES. Young Carrie Murtaugh wails like a banshee. Her brother Nick tells her to shut up. Trish Murtaugh is burning eggs in the kitchen. Roger Murtaugh enters then, fixing his tie. The following dialogue is fast and furious, tossed over the shoulder as Murtaugh scurries to and fro, getting dressed: MURTAUGH Honey, what’s this on my tie? She looks. TRISH An ugly spot? MURTAUGH Thanks. Sharp as a pin. TRISH I.m thinking of going on .Jeopardy.. MURTAUGH Don.t take any questions on cooking. TRISH Thanks. I love you, too. Carrie is still shrieking. Tears stream down her face. MURTAUGH Hey, kid, turn off the waterworks, okay? CARRIE (points to Nick) Daddy, he changed the channel! MURTAUGH NOOOOOO. NICK She’s a crybaby, Dad. MURTAUGH Mind your own busines. (nods toward the TV) That’s illegal. NICK What’s illegal? MURTAUGH Can.t put a dead body in an ambulance. This .Kojak.? NICK ’starsky and Hutch.. MURTAUGH Huh. It’s illegal. Never put a dead body in an ambulance, son, you got that? NICK Sure, Dad. MURTAUGH Honey, where’s the spot remover? (turns to Carrie) Young lady, stop crying or I.ll give you something to cry about. Damn. He dabs at his tie. Carrie screams. In the kitchen Trish drops the eggs, swears. The PHONE RINGS. Carrie screams. MURTAUGH That’s it. I.m gonna give you something to cry about. He grabs a copy of Newsweek and hands it to her. MURTAUGH Starving children. See? They haven.t eaten, it’s very sad. Cry. He moves away. CARRIE Daddy, you.re weird ... MURTAUGH Thank you, Carrie. Hear that, honey, the children think I.m weird. TRISH They.re bright children. (hangs up the) telephone) Honey, you know a man named Dick Lloyd? Don.t step in the egg. MURTAUGH Where’s my thinking? I should.ve checked the floor for egg. Dick Lloyd ... ? (beat) Jesus, Dick Lloyd. What’s he want? TRISH The office called. He’s been trying to reach you for three days now. MURTAUGH I haven.t talked to him in... shit, twelve years? No, wait a minute, that would make me fifty years old, that can.t be right. TRISH (smiles) You.re not getting older, you.re getting better. MURTAUGH Inform the children of this. (kisses her; heads for the door) Forget the eggs, I.ll eat later. TRISH Whatever. (beat) Honey? (as he stops) How come I never heard of Dick Lloyd? MURTAUGH I never talked about him. TRISH Oh. (beat) Vietnam buddy? MURTAUGH Yeah. Vietnam buddy. He exits the kitchen, crosses the entrance hall. Stops, noticing Rickles the cat, who is happily munching on the remains of Roger’s birthday cake. MURTAUGH Hey. He swats it aside. Pauses, his gaze lingering on the silent message which gnaws at his guts. THE BIG 50 ... He comes out the front door. Flicks off the Christmas lights, crosses to the car. Looks up, and sees -- his oldest daughter Rianne. Jogging past. She wears an adorable pair of dolphin shorts. Walkman headphones. She waves. RIANNE .Bye, Daddy. He waves. MURTAUGH (shakes his head) Goddamn heartbreaker. She’s a heartbreaker. CUT TO: SERIES OF SHOTS - RIGGS GETTING DRESSED Riggs enters the living room, naked. Scars on his back, the kind you get from knives. Runs a hand through limp hair. Turns on the lamp. As he does -- the TELEVISION also springs to life; hooked to the same circuit. Pops three aspirin from a bottle. Chews them. Opens a bag of peanuts, throws it to the big Lab, who gobbles them down. Eats a sandwich, standing in the middle of his apartment. .Looking at the floor. What a lonely fucking guy ... Straps on his gun. .9 millimeter Beretta, if it matters. Throws on a jacket. Downs a shot of whiskey. Pauses, looking at a photograph on the wall. Riggs, much younger, along with a pretty and vivacious woman in a wedding gown: his wife. Stares at the photograph. His fingers twirl the whiskey glass with completely unconscious skill. Tense. Tense ... twirling the glass ... RICHARD DAWSON DRONES from the TV (our survey says -- !). Riggs slings the shotglass. Dead center, SHATTERING the TV SCREEN. CUT TO: INT. POLICE FIRING PANGE - MORNING Targets: Human silhouettes with kill zones numbered. Murtaugh enters. Sheds his coat, unholsters the .38. Steps to the red line. Shifts. Stretches. Cracks his neck. This is a ritual for him. He stops to examine his right hand, holding it steady before his eyes. Except there is a slight tremble. Tiny, but it’s there. He frowns. Braces himself: Cross-draws with lightning swiftness. -- BAM! -- The sound is DEAFENING in the closed room. A neat round hole appears in the target. Perfect shot: a neat third eye. Murtaugh smiles. Holsters his gun. Puts on his coat -- and sings softly to himself: MURTAUGH Happy birthday to me ... CUT TO: INT. CAR - DAY Sergeant Martin Riggs is driving. He looks like he hasn.t slept. He certainly hasn.t shaved. The DISPATCH RADIO SQUAWKS. He turns down the MUSIC from the car radio and hears: DISPATCHER (V.0.) All units in the vicinity and Fourteen X-ray thirty-one, shooting in progress at Venice Beach, Washington and Navy. Three victims down, PA en route Fourteen X-ray thirty-one, handle code three. Riggs hits the gas pedal and PEELS OUT. CUT TO: EXT. CENTURY CITY PARKING LOT - MORNING The sky threatens rain. Cars buzz by as the city awakens. A section of the parking lot is cordoned off by yellow streamers which read: POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS, and as we watch, a black and white patrol car pulls up, admitting two beat COPS and a young hooker. Her name is DIXIE, and she is not happy. DIXIE Can I stay in the car? COP #1 No. DIXIE Aw, cut me a break. I told you already: she came out on the balcony -- COP #1 (points) That balcony ... ? DIXIE -- No, the Chandler fucking Pavillion, of course that fucking balcony, and then she jumped, and then I puked in a trash can. Can I go now? COP #1 Not .til you talk to the Sarge. DIXIE Terrific. Where the hell is he? INT. MURTAUGH’s CAR The sarge drives up and gets out. A BEAT COP Toes by. BEAT COP Happy 50th, Rog. MURTAUGH Fuck you. He crosses to the two Cops and Dixie. COP #2 Hey, Sarge. MURTAUGH .Morning, Phil. Get some rain, looks like. (beat) Hey, Dixie. Nice threads. DIXIE Hey, Murtaugh. Tell these bozos to lay Off. MURTAUGH You. Bozos. Lay off. COP #1 Had a jumper last night, Sarge. Dixie here was walking by, saw the whole thing. MURTAUGH You got a statement? Send her home. DIXIE Thanks, Rog. I.m beat, you know how it is. MURTAUGH Sure. (points to her outfit) All dressed up and no one to blow. DIXIE You.re hilarious. She exits. Cop #2 escorts Murtaugh across the parking lot. COP #2 Nice wholesome girl. She got a new job, you know. MURTAUGH What’s that? COP #2 County ceiling inspector. (beat) So. Fifty years old, huh? MURTAUGH Eat me. They stop next to the Porsche. Murtaugh grimaces. COP #2 Name is Amanda Lloyd, age twenty-two, prostitute, one arrest, no convictions. Born Tennessee, parents -- MURTAUGH What was the name? COP #2. Lloyd. Amanda Lloyd. You know her...? Murtaugh looks stunned. He speaks very slowly: MURTAUGH I knew her dad. COP #2 Jesus. (an awkward pause) Vehicle is registered to her. She landed right on top of her own car. MURTAUGH Find out who bought it for her. Her sugar daddy. COP #2 Take some looking into. MURTAUGH So look. CUT TO: OMITTED INT. AMANDA LLOYD’s APARTMENT - DAY Murtaugh stares at the photograph we saw earlier. The two soldiers. One, we can assume, is Dick Lloyd. The other is Murtaugh. Younger, trimmer. He speaks into the phone. MURTAUGH Hello, honey ... ? Give me the number for Dick Lloyd. What ... ? Yes, the man who called me this morning. His daughter just took a dive out a window. EXT. CHRISTMAS TREE LOT - DAY Martin Riggs and three lot employees are gathered around the liftgate of a truck bearing a load of Christmas trees. The truck shields them from the view of customers picking out trees in the lot. The lot employees are actually DRUG DEALERS. They look around nervously in all directions as Riggs tastes a sample of their wares. RIGGS Good stuff. DRUG DEALER ONE You better fuckin. believe it. RIGGS Okay. Let’s do it. How much? DRUG DEALER TWO How much for how much? RIGGS For all of it. DRUG DEALER THREE You want it all? RIGGS Yeah. (glances at the trees) And maybe a nice big six-footer to put it under. DRUG DEALER ONE The tree you can have for nuthin.. But the shit is gonna run you a hundred. Riggs lets out a soft whistle at the amount. RIGGS That much, huh? (digs into his pocket) Okay. Let’s see what I got. He pulls out a roll of money and begins to count it out in twenties and small bills. RIGGS Twenty, forty, sixty -- The Drug Dealers exchange dumbfounded expressions. DRUG DEALER ONE Hey, man. Hey! RIGGS Wait, wait ... shutup. I.m losin count. Where was I? Oh, yeah... (continues to peel off the bills) ... Eight, ninety, ninety-five, ninety- six, ninety-seven... (digs into his pocket for loose change) ... Ninety-seven-fifty. Sixty. Seventy- five. Okay, there’s ninety-eight dollars and twenty cents... He is about to check his other pocket for change when Drug Dealer One stops him. DRUG DEALER ONE Forget it, dumbshit. RIGGS C.mon. I.m almost there. Gimme a minute to -- DRUG DEALER ONE One hundred thousand, you stupid fuck! One hundred thousand! Riggs is floored. He can.t believe his ears. RIGGS Oh, Jesus ... I can.t afford that. Not on my salary. (beat) Look... let’s do this instead ... (pulls out his wallet) I take your complete stash, okay? I take it all. For free. And you assholes go to jail. As he says this, he flips open his wallet and shows his badge. The Drug Dealers at first look startled, then disbelieving. RIGGS I could read you your rights, but ... nah. You guys know what your rights are. DRUG DEALER ONE Fuck you, man. That badge ain.t real. And you ain.t real. DRUG DEALER TWO But you.re sure as hell one crazy fuck! Riggs. eyes begin to blaze. His nostrils flare. Like a maniac, he lunges at Drug Dealer Two. RIGGS You callin. me crazy!? You think I.m crazy! You, wanna see crazy? I.ll show you crazy! This is crazy! Riggs then proceeds to slap and pummel the Drug Dealer in the manner of the .Three Stooges.... complete with .WOO- WOO. sound effects. But he ends the routine by pulling a nine-millimeter Baretta from behind his back and pressing it against the neck of Drug Dealer Two. RIGGS That’s a real badge. I.m a real cop. And this is a real gun. (to the other two Drug Dealers) Face down on the ground. Arms and legs out. Do it now! Dealer One and Three begin to follow orders but Riggs sees a flicker in their eyes that him to trouble. He spins around -- a FOURTH DRUG DEALER is behind him with a shotgun. The SHOTGUN EXPLODES. Riggs ducks, allowing Drug Dealer Two to take the full force of the .blast in the face. Riggs rolls in the sawdust FIRING his BERETTA. Dealer Four takes a bullet between the eyes. Dealer Two now has an AUTOMATIC RIFLE in his hand. It CHATTERS in Riggs. direction. Sawdust and pine needles fly in the air -- but Riggs is able to blow him away. One more Drug Dealer left. Riggs can.t find him. His eyes dart in all directions. Where is he?! Behind Riggs, that’s where! He presses a revolver to the back of Riggs. head, taking Riggs. Baretta from him and tucking it into his belt. Thats when: FIVE NARCOTICS OFFICERS come running from their stakeout positions around the lot. But they stop short when they see that Riggs is being held with a gun pointed to his head. The Drug Dealer begins to move with Riggs toward a van parked nearby. RIGGS (to officers) Shoot him! Shoot him! DRUG DEALER (to Riggs) Shut up! RIGGS (to Drug Dealer) Fuck you! (to officers) Shoot him! Shoot him! The narcotics officers don’t know what to do. They are frustrated. Helpless. Immobilized. Riggs sees the van looming up. The van means defeat. The van means disgrace. The van means victory for the bad guys, and we know that Riggs would rather die than be the instrument of the Dealer’s escape. CLOSE ON RIGGS AND DRUG DEALER The veins are popping out in Riggs’ neck. The Drug Dealer is getting nervous and panicky. His gun hand is trembling. The barrel of the gun jiggles against the back of Riggs’ head. RIGGS (to Drug Dealer) Do it, asshole. Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger. DRUG DEALER Shut the fuck up! They move closer to the van. The narcotics officers have their guns poised for action, but don’t dare use them. DRUG DEALER (to officers) Guns down! Guns down! RIGGS (to officers) Shoot him! Kill him! (to Dealer) Pull the trigger! (to officers) Waste him! (to Dealer) Shoot me! (to officers) Kill him!! The Dealer is so freaked now that his grip on Riggs slips momentarily -- and Riggs sees his opening. He spins. Kicks the Dealer in the groin. Dislocates his arm -- sending the gun flying. Riggs retrieves his Baretta from the Dealer’s belt and shoves the barrel into the Dealer’s face. Riggs’ entire body quakes with rage. His finger begins to squeeze back on the trigger. He wants to kill the guy so bad he can taste it... and yet, he doesn’t do it. The other officers arrive and step between Riggs and the Dealer. Riggs turns away. Breatliing hard. Adrenalin pumping. He tucks the Baretta into his belt, then notices that his hand is covered with the spilled blood of one of the Drug Dealers. It gives Riggs pause. For a moment, he just looks at it. HOLD ON Riggs. VERY CLOSE. And the look in his eyes. OMITTED thru thru 25 25 INT. METRO SQUAD ROOM - MORNING Police have seldom looked this busy. Yes, there are RINGING PHONES. Yes, there are CLATTERING TYPEWRITERS. Yes, it looks like a circus. And here comes Captain of Detectives ED MURPHY, moving like an after-breakfast juggernaut. Behind him, a young woman rushes to keep up. The POLICE PSYCHOLOGIST, no less. PSYCHOLOGIST I want Martin Riggs pulled from duty. MURPHY Um... no. PSYCHOLOGIST No. No??? Captain, he walked into the line of fire. MURPHY Very brave individual, don’t you think... ? PSYCHOLOGIST This is utter bullshit. MURPHY Oh, is it? Forgive me. PSYCHOLOGIST Martin Riggs is a cop with a death wish. Murphy shoots her an incredulous look. PSYCHOLOGIST You can quote me. It happens to be my professional opinion. MURPHY Um... good opinion. See you tomorrow. PSYCHOLOGIST Captain... MURPHY Look, Doc, you’re way off. Way off. Know what I think? I think Riggs is pulling for a psycho pension. PSYCHOLOGIST Oh, do you? MURPHY Yeah. I am sure you’re aware the department offers a disability stress pension -- PSYCHOLOGIST Yes, I’m aware -- MURPHY -- Except we don’t offer it to everybody, only cops who seem to suffer from PSYCHOLOGIST -- From abnormal stress, yes, I know. Or suicidal tendencies. MURPHY Give the lady a cigar. PSYCHOLOGIST You think Riggs is playing a game? MURPHY Sure. He wants the cash. Seen it a hundred times. He’ll come around. PSYCHOLOGIST Sir, with all due respect ... I think that’s a dangerous attitude to take. May I remind you that his wife of eleven years was recently killed in a car accident, and MURPHY I know all about Riggs, Doc. He’s a tough bastard. PSYCHOLOGIST (intense) He is on the edge. He may be psychotic. MURPHY Bunch of psych bullshit- Look, can I pee now? PSYCHOLOGIST I think you’re making a mistake by leaving him in the field. He’s suicidal. MURPHY End of discussion. We’re gonna wait. And then, if he offs himself ... Well, then we’ll know I was wrong. PSYCHOLOGIST Yes, sir. Then we’ll know. CUT TO: EXT. SIMI VALLEY - NIGHT Rain sweeps in off the desert. Cold. Drenching. Riggs walks slowly toward his trailer home, head down. The RAIN BEATS on him. He doesn’t notice. Under his arm he carries a large cardboard box. INT. RIGGS’ TRAILER - SAME TIME Riggs enters, soaking wet. Switches on the lamp. Depressing. Jake appears, tail a-thump. Tongue wagging doggishly. Riggs reaches atop the refrigerator, grabs a bag of peanuts. Opens it, tosses it to the dog. RIGGS Sam, every day ... in every way ... I’m getting better and better. Opens the box and removes its contents. Brand new color TELEVISION. Plugs it in. Switches it ON. Sits down with a bottle of whiskey. Drinks. On the screen, the Grinch steals Christmas from the residents of Whoville. ANOTHER ANGLE Riggs opens a drawer beside him, and takes out a bottle of sleeping pills. Picks it up. As he does -- the sound of the TELEVISION FADES OUT -- silence, dead silence... As Riggs rolls the bottle in his fingers. Slowly, thoughtfully, unscrews the cap ... dumps them on the table. Runs his fingers through them. CLICK... CLICK... Stares. Mesmerized. RAIN BEATS on the window. EXT. TRAILER The RAIN CONTINUES to hammer the lonely little pit which Riggs calls home. CUT TO: L.A.P.D. - MORNING A zoo. A sign reads METRO ROBBERY/HOMICIDE. Roger Murtaugh sits at his desk, lost in thought. Behind him, McCASKEY, Class Three Detective. He talks to Murtaugh: MCCASKEY See, you’re behind the times, Sarge. Guys in the Eighties aren’t tough. They’re sensitive people. They show emotions around women and shit like that. (beat) I think I’m an Eighties man. MURTAUGH How you figure? MCCASKEY Last night: I cried in bed, so how’s that? MURTAUGH Were you with a woman? MCCASKEY No, I was alone, why the fuck you think I was crying? MURTAUGH Sounds like an Eighties man to me. Another detective enters. Rail-thin, nose like a beak. His name is BURKE. Behind him in the door frame we see a fat cop pass by down the hall, walking backwards; a beat, and then he is followed by four more cops singing the world’s shittiest rendition of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” It sounds like pigs mating. Burke approaches Murtaugh: BURKE Got some news on the Lloyd case, Rog. MURTAUGH That was quick. BURKE So was the autopsy. (takes a deep breath) You ready for this? They’re not calling it suicide. MURTAUGH What? BURKE Surprise, surprise. First off, coroner found evidence she took barbiturates. MURTAUGH Brilliant. There was an open bottle on her table. BURKE Right, right. That’s not the surprise. Surprise is someone doctored the pills. (beat) Every capsule was loaded with drain cleaner. MURTAUGH Jesus ... BURKE If she hadn’t jumped, she woulda been dead inside fifteen minutes. MURTAUGH (sighs) This case blows. ANOTHER ANGLE ACROSS the room, a detective takes off his gun and slings the holster across his chair. As he EXITS FRAME -- PAN to reveal: Martin Riggs as he enters the squad room. Shuffles from foot to foot, looking lost. Lights a smoke. ACROSS ROOM Murtaugh slings on a jacket. Turns to go. Notices Riggs. MURTAUGH’S POV Riggs resembles a bag person. Unshaven, limp dirty hair, grimy leather jacket. BACK TO SCENE He frowns, says: MURTAUGH McCaskey, if my wife calls, tell her late dinner. BURKE Ho, Rog- I’m not through yet. I’m supposed to tell you two more things. MURTAUGH Shoot. He is still looking at Riggs, who is slowly wandering from desk to desk, smoking -- Stopping near the desk with the holstered gun. BURKE First, condition of the sheets and mattress indicate someone was in bed with Amanda Lloyd just before she died. That’s A. MURTAUGH What’s B? BURKE B is, I’m supposed to tell you you’re breaking in a new partner on this. Now Murtaugh is eyeballing Riggs. Cautious. MURTAUGH (distracted) I don’t work partners. BURKE You do now. C.I.T. transfer, some burnout they want you to keep on a leash. MURTAUGH Oh, perfect. Can I trade in my life for a new one? At which point, across the room, Riggs removes the hol- stered gun and hefts it, curiously. Suddenly all hell breaks loose: MURTAUGH Gun !! He bolts like a cheetah. Cops dive for cover, a secretary shrieks, and Murtaugh goes plowing through the squad room like an express train, blowing people out of the way -- Cops grabbing for their holsters -- Riggs, meanwhile, looking around frantically, he’s trying to find the guy with the gun who is, of course, himself. Murtaugh takes a flying leap sails across the desk, going for the glory And Riggs, in the blink of an eye, simply ducks and flips Murtaugh neatly over one shoulder. There is a hideous crash of BREAKING GLASS and OVERTURNING FURNITURE. Ouch... McCaskey, meanwhile, screams to Burke: MCCASKEY What the shit is going on? Burke sighs, shakes his head: BURKE Roger just met his new partner. INT. OFFICE Darkness. A soft CLICK as a gun is cocked. The barrel gleams faintly in the dim light. A voice: MAN (O’s.) There are three guns on you. VISITOR Easy. Take it easy. (beat) I’m going to light a match. He does. Holds it near his face. MAN (O’s.) Thank you, Mr. Mendez. The lights come on. Dazzling. Mendez covers his eyes. Three men. Seated in chairs. Shirt sleeves and shoulder holsters. The LEADER speaks. LEADER If you’ll follow me, please. MENDEZ Who the hell are you? LEADER That’s hardly important. If you like, you may call me Mr. Joshua. MENDEZ Swell. They move toward a door in the rear wall. JOSHUA (LEADER) I trust you’re having a pleasant holiday season? MENDEZ (looks at him) Yeah. It’s a fucking joy, thank you. INT. BACK OFFICE - SAME TIME The door opens into a dimly-lit office. Stained carpet. Rotten wood. A desk. Behind the desk sits a large, rugged man with eyes like chips of stone. This is the GENERAL. GENERAL Yes, Joshua... ? Ah, Mr. Mendez. Please, have a seat. Joshua stands off to one side. Mendez sits. MENDEZ (under his breath) Where’d you get him? Psychos ‘R.’ Us? GENERAL Hardly. Points to another merc. MENDEZ I like the sunglasses. Very Hollywood. GENERAL Mr. Larch is unfortunately missing an eye. For anonymity’s sake, he chooses to forego wearing a patch. MENDEZ Swell. Blind people with guns. This is a class act. Maybe we can run over to the V.A. and pick up a couple amputees. Bargain rates after six. GENERAL I don’t find you funny. MENDEZ I don’t find this goddamn setup funny. (beat) You’re using mercenaries, for Chrissake. Tell me I’m wrong. GENERAL No. You’re not wrong. MENDEZ And I’m supposed to trust these bozos? GENERAL My people are loyal, Mr. Mendez. They are loyal to me. MENDEZ Bullshit. GENERAL Joshua. Hold out your hand. Joshua steps up to the General and extends his arm. GENERAL Do you smoke, Mr. Mendez? MENDEZ Yeah. GENERAL Give me your lighter. Mendez frowns, cautiously hands a silver cigarette lighter to the General. Who promptly pulls an old G. Gordon Liddy maneuver: He holds the flame right under Joshua’s hand. Searing it. Mendez looks on, a trifle pale. As for Joshua, he makes no sound at all. Simply stands, trance-like. GENERAL You wish to do business with us, yes? MENDEZ Jesus ... GENERAL Mr. Joshua is in a great deal of pain. You wish to make a purchase, yes? MENDEZ I ... yes. Sure. Jesus. The General nods, hands the lighter back to Mendez. GENERAL Filthy habit, smoking. (beat) The bulk of the heroin will arrive Friday night. We will make delivery at that time. Please have the money ready, and no tricks. If you try to cross us, I’ll have Joshua cut out your eyes. (beat) Merry Christmas. OMITTED 38 39 39 38 EXT. UNMARKED POLICE CAR - DAY Riggs and Murtaugh cruise through downtown Los Angeles. Riggs drives, while Murtaugh scowls. There is an awk- ward pause. MURTAUGH Turn right. (beat) So. They tell me you’re a good cop. RIGGS I try. MURTAUGH Heard about your little stunt yesterday. Pretty heroic stuff. (as Riggs does not reply) File says you worked for the Phoenix Project in Vietnam, that right? RIGGS Yes. MURTAUGH Assassin stuff? RIGGS Maybe. MURTAUGH And they gave you the Congressional Medal of Honor. RIGGS It was a lean year. MURTAUGH It’s over, you know. RIGGS What is? MURTAUGH The war. RIGGS Yes. I know. MURTAUGH Just thought I’d remind you. (beat) Check out your piece? He reaches across the get Riggs’ gun. At which point Riggs’ hand shoots out -- and stops him cold. RIGGS Bad manners, man. Riggs removes the gun himself. Steers with his knees. Drops the chambered bullet. Slips out the magazine, works the slide, KA-CHIK Hands the gun to Murtaugh. RIGGS Don’t hurt yourself. Murtaugh hefts the weapon, turning it over in his hand: Beretta .9 millimeter. Smooth, well-oiled. Accurized. Murtaugh frowns. MURTAUGH .9 millimeter Beretta. That’s some serious shit. RIGGS Military switched from Colt to Beretta in 1985. It’s a better piece. Wide ejection port, no feed jams, no stovepipes. MURTAUGH What’s it take? RIGGS Fifteen in the mag, one up the pipe. You carry a wheelgun? MURTAUGH .38 Special. RIGGS Lot of old-timers carry that. Murtaugh shoots him a look. Replaces the gun. MURTAUGH File says you’re registered with Newark P.D. as a lethal weapon. RIGGS File don’t lie. Look, friend, let’s cut the shit. We both know why I was transferred. Everyone thinks I’m suicidal, in which case I’m fucked and no one wants to work with me. Or they think I’m faking to draw a psycho pension, in which case I’m fucked and no one wants to work with me. Basically, I’m fucked. MURTAUGH Guess what? RIGGS What? MURTAUGH I don’t want to work with you. RIGGS Then don’t. MURTAUGH Ain’t got no choice. Damn. We’re both fucked. RIGGS Terrific. As they speak, Riggs has pulled to a stop in front of a large downtown bank building. MURTAUGH (rubs his eyes) I’m very old ... (sighs) ... God hates me, that’s what it is. RIGGS Hate him back. Works for me. He lights a cigarette. CUT TO: 41 INT. BANK BUILDING - DAY 41 Dick Lloyd’s office: everything about it looks starched and perfect. In the b.g., bank employees shuttle between desks, building and toppling empires. DICK LLOYD paces back and forth. He is the man we saw earlier in Amanda’s photograph, standing next to Murtaugh. Now he looks like shit. He addresses Riggs and Murtaugh, who are seated in the office. LLOYD Murder ... But I thought ... MURTAUGH Poisoned. Even if she hadn’t jumped ... she’d still be dead. LLOYD Jesus. (beat) Jesus, I can’t take -------. He sits, staring out the window. A broken man. MURTAUGH Dick, why did you call me yesterday? LLOYD (very far away) Called you...? Yeah. That’s right ... I heard you were working out here ... I wanted you to find her for me, Roger. Take her MURTAUGH Out of what? LLOYD She did movies, Roger ... Naked movies ... Saw one of them...... saw my little baby ... smiling...... She did it ... with a woman. She was on top of a woman, Roger-...! MURTAUGH Easy, Dick. Lloyd turns, facing them. Intense: LLOYD I want a promise. (beat) You owe me. You know you do. MURTAUGH Yes. I know that. LLOYD When you find who did it, I want you to kill them. If it’s more than one, I want you to kill all of them. Make them squirm first, take your time ... and fucking kill them. MURTAUGH I’m a police officer, Dick. LLOYD Forget the law. It’s easy to do. You owe me. MURTAUGH (pause; then) We have to go now. Lloyd does not look up. Riggs and Murtaugh head for the door. LLOYD I know you can, Roger. You kill them. You do that. The cops exit. The door shuts. EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - DAY Riggs and Murtaugh head ior the car. Riggs takes out a pack of cigarettes. MURTAUGH You gonna smoke in the car? RIGGS Thinking about it. MURTAUGH Terrific. He puts the top down. Riggs takes out a cigarette, starts to put it in his mouth. Stops. RIGGS Whoops. Shit. He replaces it in the pack, takes another. Murtaugh looks at him. MURTAUGH What was wrong with that one? Riggs points to the tip of the replaced cigarette. We notice two things: a) It looks like it’s about fifty years old; and b) There is a tiny red mark, circling the filter. RIGGS This one is the last cigarette I’ll ever smoke. Trick I learned from my dad. I smoke all I want, but when I smoke this one ... I’m through. MURTAUGH Brilliant. Get in the car. RIGGS Want me to drive? MURTAUGH You’re suicidal, remember? RIGGS Anyone who drives in Los Angeles is suicidal. They get in. Murtaugh heaves a sigh, stares bleakly out the window. A moment, then Riggs says: RIGGS He said you owed him. What did he mean? MURTAUGH We served together in ‘65. He saved my life in the La Drang Valley. Took a bayonet in the lung. RIGGS That was nice of him. MURTAUGH I thought so. The RADIO SQUAWKS. Murtaugh TURNS it UP. DISPATCHER (V.O.) All units and seven eight twenty-one, possible jumper at the corner of Santa Monica and La Cienega, seven eight twenty-one handle code two. Murtaugh keys the hand mike. MURTAUGH Four King Sixty en route. RIGGS This is great. I love this job. MURTAUGH Stow it. EXT. CITY INTERSECTION - DAY A building, ten stories high. On the ledge, a lone man poised high above the street. Beneath him, a crowd has gathered. A police car. A searchlight. A crowd of office workers, rubber-necking to beat the band. One or two kids yell, ÓJump, jump.Ô MurtaughÒs car glides to the curb. The doors burst open and the two partners emerge. A PATROL COP approaches. PATROL COP Hey, Sarge, you wanna handle this? MURTAUGH WhereÒs the psychologist? PATROL COP Sitting in traffic. MURTAUGH Swell. (beat) WhoÒs the guy? PATROL COP Salesman name of MacCleary. Left the office party. Went upstairs and walked out on the ledge. MURTAUGH Think heÒll go? PATROL COP Seems serious enough. Who knows? Riggs clears his throat. Murtaugh turns. RIGGS I can handle this. MURTAUGH You qualified to talk to jumpers? RIGGS IÒve done it before. MURTAUGH (reluctant; then) Okay. YouÒre elected. (as Riggs) turns to go) Hey. (as Riggs stops) No guns. No kung fu. Just ... bring him in. RIGGS Sure. Bring him in. MURTAUGH Right. Riggs moves off toward the building. Murtaugh looks after him. Was this a mistake ... ? EXT. ROOFTOP - DAY Riggs appears on the roof. There, about five yards away, stands the JUMPER. Agitated. Breathing hard. Below is ten stories of open space. The wind blows. Riggs nods to the Jumper. MACCLEARY (JUMPER) Go away. RIGGS My name is Riggs. MACCLEARY Fuck off. RIGGS I canÒt do that. (beat) WhatÒs your name? MACCLEARY Look, I know all the psychology bullshit, it wonÒt work. RIGGS IÒm not a psychologist. MACCLEARY Yeah? What are you? RIGGS Homicide cop. MACCLEARY YouÒre early. Hang on a couple minutes, you can go to work. RIGGS At least tell me your name. Look, I gotta fill out the little piece of paper. Okay? MACCLEARY (swallows) Len. Len MacCleary. RIGGS Thanks. ÑPreciate it. (beat) That M -- C ... ? MACCLEARY M -- A -- C, now get outta here. Riggs leans out farther, perches on the ledge. Absolutely calm. RIGGS Why are you doing this? MACCLEARY None of your goddamn business. RIGGS Fair enough. (pause; then) IÒm coming out. Take it easy. Riggs stands, steps out onto the narrow ledge. He seems unconcerned. MACCLEARY DonÒt come near me! RIGGS Ssshhh. Easy. IÒm just going to talk. MACCLEARY Touch me and IÒll jump. RIGGS I understand. EXT. BUILDING - DAY On the ground below, Roger Murtaugh reacts with disbelief. His partner is taking an insane risk. Up above, Riggs pauses. Around him the WIND BLOWS treacherously. RIGGS YouÒre not the first guy to think of this, you know. EveryoneÒs got problems. MACCLEARY You know shit. RIGGS Wrong. YouÒre wrong. (beat) I almost tried this once. Seriously. My wife. Got killed in a car crash. Only person I ever cared about. I never had kids. MacCLEARY YouÒre breaking my heart. Riggs takes out his wallet, flashes it at MacCleary. RIGGS This is her picture. MACCLEARY Nice. Fuck off. RIGGS IÒm trying to tell you I understand, you dope. He takes a step closer. MACCLEARY DonÒt touch me. IÒm not doing anything wrong. RIGGS I know that. Not like youÒre murdering anyone. MACCLEARY Right. Only one hurt is me. RIGGS Same way I look at it. IÒm gonna stand beside you, okay? MACCLEARY No! (beat) Dammit, keep away. RIGGS Please. This is scary stuff. Just ... let me stand next to you. MACCLEARY DonÒt try nothing. RIGGS I try something, we both go. MACCLEARY Right. Riggs slowly steps up to the man. Shudders. RIGGS There. FuckinÒ cold,up here. (beat) Helluva day for both of us, huh? (looks around at the sea of traffic far below) Here we are. (beat) God, this is really scary. IÒm scared. MACCLEARY Me, too. RIGGS You wanna smoke? (pulls out cigarettes) LetÒs smoke, okay? MACCLEARY Sure. Riggs offers a smoke. MacCleary reaches for it. And Riggs snaps a handcuff on his wrist. Snaps the other end onto his own wrist. MACCLEARY Hey ... RIGGS Sorry. (beat) See this key? He holds up the key to the cuffs. Flings it out into space. RIGGS WeÒre together on this. You can go if you want. But you take me with you. Makes you a murderer. MACCLEARY You bastard. RIGGS YouÒll be killing a cop. Silence. RIGGS IÒm going inside. What say you come with me? He turns, starts to ease along the ledge. MacCleary swallows hard, says: MACCLEARY Fuck you, IÒm jumping. And suddenly Riggs turns on him. Eyes like steel. RIGGS You wanna jump ... ? You really want to ... ? (long pause; then) Fine. LetÒs do it. He steps to the edge. MACCLEARY Hey, what the fuck ... RIGGS You asked for it. MACCLEARY Hey, wait a minute ... ! Riggs does something very drastic. He jerks them both off the ledge. Holy shit. The crowd gasps. RIGGS Geronimoooooo ... As down they plunge, all ten stories -- Tumbling and falling -- MacCleary shrieking like a lunatic ... And suddenly, BAM -- ! They land in a firemanÒs net. Bounce a few times. Come to rest, safe and unharmed ... Riggs rolls over with a sour look on his face. Cops surround them. MacCleary is a trifle upset. MACCLEARY Get him away from me!! Cut me loose!! Crazy fucker tried to kill me!! Did you see that?? He tried to kill me!!! And so on, screaming and ranting -- As a uniformed cop cuts Riggs free with a set of clippers. Riggs stands shakily. Steps away from the net. And there is Roger Murtaugh. Visibly upset. Did I say upset? I meant enraged. He grabs Riggs, slams him against the wall. Tries to grab his collar. RiggsÒ hand shoots out. Lightning fast. Stops MurtaughÒs hand. Stops it cold. They stare into each otherÒs eyes. RIGGS DonÒt ... touch me. Murtaugh will not back down. MURTAUGH What the fuck did you just do??? RIGGS I controlled the jump. You wanted him down. HeÒs down. MURTAUGH CÒmere. He yanks Riggs around the corner, away from the other cops. MURTAUGH Okay, turkey, no bullshit. Do you want to kill yourself? RIGGS Aw, for Chrissake ... MURTAUGH Shut up. Just yes or no, do you want to die? Huh? Yes or no? RIGGS I got the job done. MURTAUGH YouÒre not answering the question!!! RIGGS (angry) What do you wanna hear, man? You wanna hear that I got a bottle of pills in my room? I do. Every day I wake up, I look for a reason not to take them. Doing the job, thatÒs ... thatÒs the reason. Murtaugh looks at him. Nods. A moment, then: MURTAUGH You want to die. RIGGS IÒm not afraid of it. MURTAUGH Here. (unholsters his gun) Pills are too slow. Use a gun.Use my gun. Go ahead, pal. A pause. Riggs looks at the gun. MURTAUGH Be my guest. He offers the gun to Riggs. MURTAUGH Go ahead. If youÒre serious. Riggs smiles, takes the gun without missing a beat. Puts it to his head. CLICK -- ! The hammer is cocked. Murtaugh and Riggs stare each other down. Tense. Reading each other. RIGGS You shouldnÒt tempt me, Roger. MURTAUGH Put it in your mouth. Bullet goes in your ear, might not kill you. Meanwhile, in the b.g., pedestrians are diving for cover. Murtaugh and Riggs are oblivious. Riggs puts the gun under his chin. RIGGS Under the chinÒs just as good. They stare at each other. RiggsÒ finger begins to tighten on the trigger. Turns white with pressure. It looks like heÒs going to do it. At the last second, Murtaugh jams his thumb in front of the hammer, and CLICK Jesus ... The hammer thuds against his thumb. Murtaugh grabs the gun. Stares at Riggs, wild-eyed. MURTAUGH Jesus. YouÒre not trying to draw a psycho pension. (beat) YouÒre really crazy ... RIGGS (smiles coldly) So now you know. MURTAUGH Yeah. Now I know. INT. POLICE LINEUP - DAY The Police Psychologist we met earlier is talking on the telephone: PSYCHOLOGIST YouÒre asking me if heÒs stable and IÒm telling you no. WeÒre talking about a man who carves notches in his gun barrel. One for each kill. He blew a man to Pieces yesterday. Is this helping? INTERCUT: ROGER MURTAUGH Standing at a pay phone, listening. He nods: MURTAUGH Terrific. So youÒre saying I should worry. PSYCHOLOGIST Are you kidding? The guyÒs a time bomb. When he goes... stand back. MURTAUGH Thank you, Doctor. YouÒve been very helpful. He hangs up. Rubs his eyes tiredly and says: MURTAUGH IÒm too old for this shit. CUT TO: INT. MURTAUGHÒS CAR - TRAVELING - DAY Silence. Murtaugh fumes. Riggs keeps his mouth shut. Murtaugh takes his anger out on the road: SLAMMING the BRAKES; SQUEALING around corners, etc. But he canÒt hold it in. He explodes: MURTAUGH (pounding his fist against the wheel) ItÒs my birthday, damnit! Fifty years old today! Fifty goddamn years old! Thirty years on the force! Not a scratch on me! Not a scar! I got a wife! Kids! House! Fishing boat! But I can kiss all that goodbye, Ñcause my new partnerÒs got a death wish! My fuckinÒ life is over! RIGGS Roger -- MURTAUGH Shut up! Why you talkinÒ to me?! IÒm not here anymore! IÒm gone! IÒm dead! YouÒre gonna see to that! You wanna die -- and youÒre gonna take me with you! Silence again. Murtaugh gnashes his teeth. Riggs looks at him with a very serious expression. RIGGS I didnÒt know that. MURTAUGH Know what?! RIGGS That today was your birthday. (beat) Happy Birthday, Roger. I mean that sincerely. Murtaugh looks taken aback by the genuine sound of affec- tion in RiggsÒ voice. RIGGS I just hope we stay alive long enough for me to buy you a present. Riggs says this with a straight face -- but there is a playful glint in his eye that Murtaugh doesnÒt miss. And he laughs out loud in spite of himself. It breaks the tension, and Riggs knows it. RIGGS Where we going? MURTAUGH Beverly Hills. (beat) Got an address on Amanda HunseckerÒs meal ticket. But remember ... this guy isnÒt a suspect yet. WeÒre gonna question him; not damage him. Riggs raises his hands -- as if to say, IÒll be on my best behavior. Murtaugh swings the car onto Sunset Blvd. 49 EXT. POSH BEVERLY HILLS HOME - TWILIGHT 49 The kind of house that IÒll buy if this movie is a huge hit. Chrome. Glass. Carved wood. Plus an outdoor solarium: A glass structure, like a greenhouse only thereÒs a big swimming pool inside. This is a really great place to have sex. INT. SOLARIUM The swimming pool is covered by a vinyl tarpaulin. Surrounded by a jungle of plants. AT POOLSIDE TABLE Sits a very rich person. He is wearing an $800 designer ensemble. Beside him, an elegantly-appointed shotgun leans against the table. He is on the phone. RICH GUY Listens asshole, you gotta tell me these things ... Yeah, we got a problem. My margin is completely fucked up, and we got athletes snorting the shit and pitching over dead, howÒs that for a problem... ? Yes, IÒm holding two keys now. Terrific, call me back. CUT TO: EXT. WOODEN GATE - SAME TIME Riggs and Murtaugh approach the gate. Riggs tosses out a cigarette. Suddenly -- There is an ELECTRIC HUM and the gate glides softly open, admitting a red Honda scooter, a dashing blonde behind the wheel. She ROARS off down the street. Riggs and Murtaugh exchange glances. The GATE CLICKS, starts to glide shut. The cops enter. 53 EXT. HOUSE WINDOW - SAME TIME 53 RiggsÒ face comes INTO FRAME, peering cautiously through a plate glass window. He whistles softly. RIGGS Take a look. Murtaugh steps to the window, looks in. MURTAUGHÒS POV - THROUGH THE WINDOW Enough cocaine to service the third tier at Yankee Stadium. A BLONDE, BIKINI-CLAD WONDER sits on the couch, happily snorting. She sees Murtaugh and waves hilariously. Makes come-hither gestures. Murtaugh scowls, turns to Riggs. RIGGS IÒm thinking probable cause. MURTAUGH Jesus. Maybe I should call for backup. RIGGS What am I, chopped liver? Murtaugh looks at him. Sighs. MURTAUGH No killing. RIGGS No killing. He grins cheesily- EXT. SOLARIUM Riggs and Murtaugh approach the frosted glass door. They draw their guns. MURTAUGH Nice and easy. RIGGS Nice and easy. Murtaugh takes a deep breath. Kicks open the door. MURTAUGH Police. Hold it right there. INT. SOLARIUM The rich guy does not hold it right there. In fact, he has already snatched up the SHOTGUN. He triggers a BLAST, BLOWS OUT GLASS next to Murtaugh. Murtaugh dives, rolls, comes up in a combat crouch. BAM --- The rich guy takes it in the shoulder. Spins around. The gun clatters to the ground. Riggs and Murtaugh approach, guns drawn. The rich guy writhes on the ground, clutching his shoulder. Murtaugh says to Riggs: MURTAUGH See how easy that was? Boom. Still alive. Now we take the gun away ... (he does) ... And we question him. Know why we can question him? Because I got him in the shoulder. I didnÒt blow him up or jump off a building with him. RIGGS No fair, the building guy lived. MURTAUGH Whatever. The point is, no killing. RIGGS No killing. MURTAUGH Right. Piece of cake. IÒm very happy. Read the man his rights, IÒll be over here being happy. Unfortunately ... as Murtaugh speaks, he does not see the man on the ground has a hideaway gun tucked into his waistband. As Murtaugh talks, oblivious ... The guy takes out the gun with his good arm -- and aims dead center-at MurtaughÒs back. Riggs, however, notices. And springs into action. Before the rich guy can fire ... RiggsÒ foot flashes out like a pile driver. CRACK! The guy flies backward. Lands on top of the pool tarpaulin. Oops. It promptly surrounds him in a sucking, vice-like grip. Murtaugh dives forward and extends his hand. Too late. The vinyl surrounds the screaming rich guy, sucks him below the surface. Smothers him. Drags him to the bottom. Murtaugh looks on, wild-eyed. On the bottom of the pool is a vinyl tomb. Murtaugh dives in. Swims to the bottom. Yanks, and strains, but we all know itÒs no fucking use. The vinyl stops moving. Murtaugh stares... and then he gives up. Surfaces at the side of the pool, gasping and wheezing. Riggs kneels down beside him. RIGGS Oops. Murtaugh stares daggers at him. MURTAUGH Have you ... ever... met someone you didnÒt kill... ? RIGGS HavenÒt killed you yet. MURTAUGH Terrific, you want a little gold star? (lie pulls out a soaked pack of cigarettes) Shit. EXT. POSH BEVERLY HILLS HOME - LATER Behind Riggs and Murtaugh, crime scene cops scurry back and forth. Flashing lights. Cameras. Murtaugh makes his way to the car. Riggs beside him. As they reach the car, Murtaugh stops: MURTAUGH Look, IÒ m sorry I said that shit back there. (beat) You saved my life. Thank you. RIGGS I bet that hurt to say. MURTAUGH You have no idea. INT. MURTAUGH HOME - LATER THAT NIGHT The two detectives come through the front door, shedding their jackets. Young Carrie appears, nursing a Popsicle. CARRIE Hi, Daddy. Is that a crook? MURTAUGH No, honey, this is Martin, my partner. (scoops her up; hugs her) Tell Martin what you think of crooks. CARRIE Buttheads. (giggles) TheyÒre buttheads. RIGGS KidÒs no dummy. CARRIE Daddy, Mommy says you hate her cooking. MURTAUGH Tell Mommy hate is a mild word. INT. KITCHEN Trish is cooking as the two cops enter. MURTAUGH Hi, honey. (he looks in the oven) WeÒre having something brown... A largish brown object ... TRISH ItÒs roast. MURTAUGH Dammit, I wanted to guess. Honey, this is Martin, my new partner. HeÒll be joining us tonight, okay? TRISH Sure. Roast okay with you, Martin? RIGGS Fine. MURTAUGH How about brown, roast-like substance? TRISH Roger, youÒre being an asshole. (kisses his ear) DonÒt forget to compliment Rianne on her shoes. MURTAUGH Got it. Drink, Martin? RIGGS Bourbon, if you have it. Murtaugh exits. Riggs stands awkwardly as Trish removes the roast from the oven. RIGGS My wife could burn water. TRISH YouÒre married? RIGGS I was. SheÒs dead now. TRISH Oh. IÒm sorry. RIGGS No problem. He reaches for a stray piece of roast. Trish slaps his hand. TRISH DonÒt pick.- Riggs smiles. A genuine smile, the first weÒve seen. INT. LIVING ROOM - SAME Murtaugh is fixing drinks as RIANNE enters. We all heave a sigh. She is strictly to perish for. RIANNE Hello, Father. MURTAUGH Hello, daughter. Nice shoes. RIANNE Oh, Daddy, arenÒt they great? MURTAUGH Absolutely. How much they cost? RIANNE A hundred and ten dollars. Do you really like them? MURTAUGH A hundred and -- (frowns) -- TheyÒre shoes. RIANNE Right. MURTAUGH You wear them on your feet. RIANNE Right. MURTAUGH And thatÒs all they do ... ? ThereÒs not, like a TV inside? RIANNE Nope. MURTAUGH (shakes his head) IÒm very old. INT. MURTAUGHÒS DEN Young Nick Murtaugh is sitting in front of the TELE- VISION, watching a ÓCharley Brown ChristmasÔ and coloring a picture with a big box of crayons. He stops. Frowns. Looks up -- At Martin Riggs, who is peeking his head around the corner, watching with rapt fascination. Riggs chuckles, points to the screen: RIGGS This is good. I like this. Nick looks at him very strangely. Okay, so the guy likes cartoons ... INT. DINING ROOM - MEALTIME Everyone is gathered, eating. Incredibly homey and domestic- looking. For Riggs, who eats ravenously, it is the first taste of warmth in many a long year. ACROSS THE TABLE We notice something kind of neat: Rianne simply cannot take her eyes off Riggs. She stares at him, in a trance. Her brother NICK nudges her in the ribs. She pulls a face. MURTAUGH Has also noticed his daughterÒs attentions, and you can bet heÒs not all that happy about it. 63. EXT. MURTAUGHÒS HOUSE - DRIVEWAY - BOAT - NIGHT 63. Trish Murtaugh wheeling garbage pail to curbside. TRISH (sarcastically) ThatÒs okay, honey. IÒll take out the garbage. Boat. MurtaughÒs head appears sheepishly from within. MURTAUGH Yeah. Thanks, honey. On board boat, Murtaugh is working on the engine. Riggs sitting on driverÒs seat. MURTAUGH Whaddaya think? RIGGS You know anything about boats, Roger? MURTAUGH Know how much they cost. RIGGS I mean, can you sail this thing? MURTAUGH WhatÒs wrong with you? This ainÒt a sail boat. RIGGS (smiling) ThatÒs what I thought. MURTAUGH No trick to it. ThatÒs the front. ThatÒs the back. Water all around. Why you gotta make things so complicated? RIGGS I donÒt. ThatÒs just how they are. Murtaugh opens an ice chest, takes a beer for himself and tosses one to Riggs. MURTAUGH Oh, yeah. You mean Amanda HunsackerÒs murder? RIGGS Now, did I mention that? MURTAUGH You donÒt have to. I can read your mind. Riggs makes no reply. He just looks at Murtaugh over the rim of his beer can. MURTAUGH I donÒt get you, Riggs. WhatÒs the problem? We got one dead girl and one dead guy. Dead guy killed the dead girl and we killed the dead guy Ñcause he wanted us to be dead guys. Seems pretty easy to me. Riggs has wandered over to the instrument panel. He in- spects the switches and gauges. MURTAUGH Look, her sugar daddy was dealinÒ drugs. She said somethinÒ... or did somethinÒ... or saw somethinÒ she shouldnÒt have, and he pitched her off the balcony into the sweet by-anÒ-by. (beat) ThatÒs why he came at us today with a shotgun. RIGGS I donÒt know. Sounds a little too neat to me. MURTAUGH Of course itÒs neat. And whatÒs wrong with neat? I like neat. Riggs flips a switch and the MOTOR ROARS to life. Murtaugh leaps up. MURTAUGH Hey! Watch what youÒre doinÒ! Murtaugh fumbles with the switches in a futile effort to turn off the engine. But Riggs knows exactly which switch to flip. RIGGS LookinÒ for this? He silences the engine. Murtaugh glares at him. MURTAUGH You asshole. RIANNE Hi, Dad... Murtaugh jumps, startled by his daughterÒs arrival. Rianne and Riggs exchange a glance. MURTAUGH What is it, Rianne? RIANNE Mark wants to take me out to a club tomorrow night. MURTAUGH YouÒre grounded -- you know that. RIANNE Please, Daddy ... MURTAUGH Which one is Mark, anyway? RIANNE The blond one. MURTAUGH Oh, yeah. The one with pits in his face. RIANNE Those are dimples. MURTAUGH Those are pits. When he smiles, I can see through his head. (beat) The answer is no. End of story. RIGGS CÒmon, Rog. Have a heart. Murtaugh looks at Riggs -- not appreciative of his intervention. MURTAUGH The girl was smoking pot in the house. SheÒs grounded! RIANNE Next time IÒll just take a beer instead. Why can I have a beer and not a joint? ItÒs not coke, you know, Dad. Murtaugh looks down sheepishly at the can of beer in his hand. Riggs grins to himself. MURTAUGH ÑCause right now, beerÒs legal and grass ainÒt. Right or wrong. RIANNE Wrong. RIGGS Right. She stalks off. After a moment, Murtaugh looks over to Riggs. MURTAUGH IÒve lost track... did we resolve anything here tonight? Riggs shakes his head, smiles and starts to climb off the boat. RIGGS Yeah. We resolved that your wife takes out the garbage. Your daughter smokes pot, which is illegal but shouldnÒt be - - that you donÒt know from boats, and you got one hell of a family, guy. Walking towards truck together. MURTAUGH Thanks. RIGGS Enjoyed the meal. MURTAUGH Bullshit, but thanks anyway. A pause. Riggs stands there. Then: RIGGS You donÒt trust me at all, do you? MURTAUGH Tell you what. Make it through tomorrow without killing anybody. Especially me. Or yourself. Then IÒll start trusting you. RIGGS Fair enough. He walks toward his truck. Stops. RIGGS I do it real good, you know. MURTAUGH Do what? RIGGS Kill people ... Only thing I ever did good. When I was nineteen, I did a guy in Laos from a thousand yards out. Rifle shot in high wind. (beat) Ten guys in the world coulda made that shot. Huh. Only thing I was ever good at. (pause; then) Well, see you tomorrow. MURTAUGH Yeah. See you then. Riggs drives away. Murtaugh watches him. Turns. On the way back inside, he flicks on the Christmas lights. OMITTED EXT. SUNSET STRIP - NIGHT Martin Riggs cruises along in his battered pickup truck past all-night dives and porno houses. The streets are nearly deserted. Except for a young HOOKER on the cor- ner. Real young, maybe seventeen. Riggs sees her and pulls over to the curb. The Hooker approaches. HOOKER Hi, handsome. Looking for something? RIGGS ArenÒt we all? HOOKER (nods) Are you affiliated with any law enforcement organization? RIGGS (pause; then) No. Get in the car. She does. Closes the door. RIGGS How old are you? HOOKER Twenty-two. RIGGS Bullshit. HOOKER Why, you like Ñem young? RIGGS Younger the better. How old are you? HOOKER (almost shyly) Sixteen. Riggs nods. Takes out a hundred-dollar bill and sets it in her lap. HOOKER Wow. (beat) So, what do you want? RIGGS I want you to come home and watch television with me. He drives away from the curb. INT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT The house is dark and quiet at this hour. Roger Murtaugh fixes a sandwich in the kitchen. Rickles the CAT PURRS, rubs against his leg. MURTAUGH Hey. He kicks it aside. Notices a package on the counter, together with a scribbled crayon note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SERGEANT MURTAUGH The gift is a 99c special, right off the rack at Pic NÒ Save: The TUFF NÒ READY Police Action Playset; Tiny plastic gun, made in Taiwan. Tiny plastic badge. Murtaugh smiles. Notices another package next to it. Frowns. Its label reads: ROGER MURTAUGH: POLICE EVIDENCE. INT. LIVING ROOM He opens the package. Two things: a high school year- book; also a videocassette. Takes it, slides it into a VCR machine. Turns on the television. TIME CUT TO: INT./EXT. RIGGSÒ TRAILER - NIGHT The Hooker watches TV -- really enjoying the Three Stooges. Riggs stands apart from her. HeÒs not watch- ing TV; heÒs watching her watching TV. He wears a melancholy expression. The world is full of happy families like MurtaughÒs, but he has to get by like this. His eyes shift to a photo of his wife. He picks it up and views it sadly. HOOKER (turning to him) YouÒre not having a very good time, are you? Riggs puts down the photo. RIGGS (sweetly) You donÒt know that. Maybe this is how I look when IÒm having a good time. Maybe IÒm having the best time of my life. HOOKER (after a beat) Are you? Riggs doesnÒt answer. HOOKER I know... sing me something. RIGGS I donÒt sing. HOOKER Come on. Sing me a song. RIGGS I donÒt know any songs. HOOKER Not even a Christmas song? Everybody knows a Christmas song. Riggs shrugs and makes a half-hearted attempt: RIGGS Something through the snow, in a one- horse open sleigh ... HOOKER Good. ThatÒs good. (helps him out) Over the hills we go, laughing all the way. RIGGS Something something ring, making something bright ... HOOKER Oh, what fun it is to ride ... RIGGS To grandmaÒs house tonight! They know they got it wrong, but theyÒre pleased with themselves just the same. The Hooker hugs Riggs impul- sively. Riggs looks uncomfortable. HeÒd like to show her some platonic affection, but he knows thatÒs impossible. He gently unwraps her arms from around his neck. RIGGS I better take you back now. SAME PLACE - LITTLE BIT LATER Murtaugh is in front of the TV. On his lap is a high school yearbook. Open to the middle. He glances down, sees - - a photograph of Amanda Lloyd. Senior picture. Smiling. Young. The girl most likely to. He looks up up at the television. On the screen Amanda Lloyd is writhing in ecstasy. Smiling. Murtaugh continues to watch. Lights another cigarette. There is a sad, faraway look on his face. CUT TO: INT. HALLWAY Very late now. Murtaugh walks down the hall to a bedroom door. Opens it a fraction. Inside -- His daughter Rianne is asleep. A shaft of moonlight falls across the bed. She is more beautiful than weÒve ever seen her. Murtaugh crosses to the bed, leans down, and kisses her forehead. She stirs in her sleep, smiles like a cat, and whispers: RIANNIE ... Mark ... Murtaugh recoils. Stands up. We realize that up until this moment, see, he thought she was maybe a virgin ... INT. MURTAUGHÒS BEDROOM He takes off his robe, drapes it on a chair. Gets into bed silently next to his sleeping wife. Lies awake, staring up at the ceiling. The RAIN BEATS on the window, throwing odd shadows across his face. He drifts toward sleep. As he does, we ever so slowly ... CROSS FADE TO: INT. MURTAUGH BEDROOM Sunlight streams through the windows, Murtaugh stirs groggily, forces open his eyes. Staring him in the face is Martin RiggsÒ scruffy, early morning face. Murtaugh frowns. MURTAUGH ... Martin... ? RIGGS Good morning, Roger. IÒve been doing a little thinking. Murtaugh just stares at him. RIGGS About the night Amanda Hunsaker died. Murtaugh grimaces. MURTAUGH Do you know what time it is ... ? RIGGS Day time? MURTAUGH IÒll get dressed. CUT TO: INT. MURTAUGH KITCHEN In the kitchen Trish is singing something bluesy, fixing coffee. At the table Nick is drinking milk. Murtaugh sits. Riggs takes off his shoulder holster, and with meticulous care drapes it delicately over the back of his chair. Sits opposite Murtaugh. RIGGS YouÒre seriously using ketchup? MURTAUGH Yeah. RIGGS On eggs. MURTAUGH Yeah. (beat) Who made the ketchup? RIGGS Heinz. MURTAUGH Who made the eggs? Riggs looks to Trish. TRISH (across the room) You two are so hilarious I could bust. Riggs leans forward. RIGGS Roger. MURTAUGH Yeah. RIGGS That hooker who witnessed the jump the other night. What was her name? MURTAUGH Dixie. CARRIE WhatÒs a hooker? MURTAUGH Shh, quiet, IÒm combatting crime. NICK A hooker is a ... RIGGS (interrupts) Right, and sheÒs in Century City witnessing Amanda HunsakerÒs suicide MURTAUGH or murder -- RIGGS right, or murder, and my question is... what is she doing there? I called Wilshire Vice, thatÒs not her usual turf. MURTAUGH Wow. (beat) Wow. ThatÒs really reaching. RIGGS Cut me a break, itÒs a hunch, Roger. IÒm having a hunch. MURTAUGH You couldnÒt have it at home, you had to come here at 7:30 A.M. and have it. RIGGS 7:35, and yes, I thought youÒd be excited. MURTAUGH IÒm thrilled. (pause) Okay. RIGGS Okay, what? MURTAUGH Okay, go for it. IÒm listening. CUT TO: INT. OUTDOOR FIRING PANGE - DAY Riggs and Murtaugh stand on line at the range. Around them the echoing BOOM of gunshots fills the morning air. They struggle to be heard over the tumult: MURTAUGH We know someone was in bed with Amanda Lloyd the night she died. RIGGS Right. ÑTil now we assumed it was a man. MURTAUGH Okay. LetÒs say it was Dixie. RIGGS Okay. Disgusting, but okay: LetÒs say Dixie slipped the drain cleaner into the pills. MURTAUGH Say someone paid her to do it. RIGGS Sure. She thinks, terrific, Amanda swallows a couple downers and boom, sheÒs dead. Then Dixie -- MURTAUGH If it was her -- RIGGS Right, right, then Dixie has plenty of time to spritz the place up, get out, whatever. MURTAUGH Except Amanda jumps out the window. RIGGS Or Dixie pushes her. Either way MURTAUGH Either way, sheÒs gotta make a fast getaway, Ñcause now the bodyÒs public. She hauls ass downstairs. RIGGS People are coming out to see what happened. MURTAUGH Someone spots her. She says Ñshit.Ò RIGGS Right. She actually stops and says, ÑShit.Ò MURTAUGH Or, ÑDamn.Ò RIGGS Or ÑGolly, IÒve been spotted.Ò The point being -- MURTAUGH The point being, now she has to cover her ass. RIGGS Right. So she says, ÑOfficer, officer, I saw the whole thing.Ò MURTAUGH Right. RIGGS Right. MURTAUGH (sighs) ThatÒs pretty fucking thin. RIGGS Very thin. MURTAUGH (smiles) Hell with it. ThinÒs my middle name. RIGGS Your wifeÒs cooking, IÒm not surprised. MURTAUGH Would you lay off the cooking? RIGGS Tell her that. Riggs steps to the line. Draws the Beretta, fires off a full clip. Three-shot rhythms, two in the chest, one in the head, two in the chest, one in the head. Removes the magazines lovingly snaps in a new one. MURTAUGH You sleep with that thing under your pillow? RIGGS I would if I slept. MURTAUGH Here, stand back. Murtaugh steps to the red line. Stretches. Cracks his neck. Shifts from foot to foot. Finally steadies him- self. A moment then: He cross-draws with lightning swiftness. -- BANG -- ! The REPORT is DEAFENING. The target grows a neat third eye. Perfect shot. Dead center. Murtaugh grins, holsters his gun. MURTAUGH Hey-hey. WouldÒja look at that? Pretty good for an old man. Riggs shrugs. Draws. FIRES. He isnÒt even looking. Nonetheless. -- He puts a magnum round right through the hole made by MurtaughÒs .38. The hole gets .60 inches wider. Murtaugh scowls. MURTAUGH Yeah, yeah. Eat me. He stalks away, pissed off. OMITTED 75 EXT. WEST L.A. STREET - MORNING 75 MurtaughÒs car glides up to the curb. In front of a row of neat frame houses. Old neighborhood. Late model cars. A LITTLE black KID playing on the sidewalk. The two cops get out, stride toward a cottage set back from the street. They pass the Little Kid who is playing with a plastic bucket and a headless Star Wars figure. RIGGS Hey, kid. WhatÒcha doing? The Kid grins, obviously pleased with himself. LITTLE KID I put this on top and it fall down. He demonstrates. He puts it on top. It falls down. He grins happily. Riggs shakes his head. RIGGS Good thinking. They keep walking. Toward the cottage. MURTAUGH Very thin. RIGGS Probably nothing. They mount the steps to the walk. As they do -- The HOUSE suddenly EXPLODES. It BLOWS APART concussively. There is a flash of light, a loud, flat BANG --! And the thing tears to pieces. Glass blows out. Wood sprays. Flying shrapnel. A wall of flame. Riggs hits the dirt, smothering the Little black Kid. Murtaugh dives for cover behind a telephone pole. A piece of shrapnel imbeds itself; right next to his head. Carnage. Noise. The tumult slowly begins to fade. Echoes. Flames rage to the sky. Smoke rolls. Beams collapse. The cottage is no more. Murtaugh climbs to his feet, dazed; stares at the rubble. Looks over toward Riggs, who is getting up off the Kid. The Kid is shaken, but unhurt. MURTAUGH Hey. Riggs turns. MURTAUGH YouÒre on fire. Riggs looks. The back of his coat is completely ablaze. RIGGS Shit. He takes it off, flings it aside. Goes up to Murtaugh- Lights a cigarette. RIGGS Probably nothing. MURTAUGH Thin. Very thin. EXT. BURNED-OUT COTTAGE - LATER Cops prowl through the gutted remains. Charred and black. Nothing left. A body goes by on a stretcher. MURTAUGH stops it. MURTAUGH Ho. (he looks under the sheet) Jesus. ATTENDANT WeÒre hoping to find some teeth. in there. Otherwise, could be anybody. Black, white ... Could be a fuckinÒ bowl of soup, for all we -- MURTAUGH Okay, okay. The stretcher continues toward the waiting truck. Murtaugh looks off, whispers: MURTAUGH Bye-bye ANOTHER ANGLE Martin Riggs is examining a twisted hunk of metal as Murtaugh walks up beside him. MURTAUGH What’cha got? RIGGS Part of the device. (beat) Holy cow. MURTAUGH What? RIGGS Artwork. This is goddamn artwork. MURTAUGH Swell. I’m glad you liked it. RIGGS You don’t understand. This is real pro stuff. Haven’t seen this since ... well, since the war. MURTAUGH Come again? RIGGS C.I.A. used to hire mercs who used this same setup. Mercury switches. Murtaugh frowns. A PATROL COP taps him on the shoulder. PATROL COP Sir, I think you’d better come with me. Riggs-and Murtaugh exchange glances. They move off, across the street. EXT. STREET - BACK OF FIRE TRUCK Riggs and Murtaugh stand by the rear of the truck. A CONSTRUCTION CREW watches from behind, heavy equipment idling softly. Next to them sits the little black kid from earlier, coloring with crayons. His mother hovers ... COP Okay, here it is. The little kid says he saw someone working on the meter this morning. MURTAUGH Where? COP Across the street at Dixie’s. He was playin’ some kind of game, hidin’ under the stairs. Says he saw the guy pretty good. MURTAUGH Jesus. This could be a break. RIGGS You kidding? The kid’s six years old. COP If that. MURTAUGH You call the gas company? COP Sure did. No one supposed to check that meter for at least another month. MURTAUGH (nods) Let me handle this. COP Be my guest. RIGGS Wanna wear the chicken suit? I got some clown makeup. MURTAUGH Stow it. He crosses to the boy. MURTAUGH Hi. I’m Detective Murtaugh. What’s your name? ALFRED (LITTLE KID) Alfred. He stares at Murtaugh with eyes like saucers. MURTAUGH How old are you, Alfred? ALFRED Six. MURTAUGH Wow. Six. (beat) Bet you like the Gobots, huh? Alfred nods. MURTAUGH Me, I’m a G.I. Joe man. ALFRED (points) Is that a real gun? MURTAUGH Yes, it is. ALFRED Do you kill people? MURTAUGH No. If a guy is hurting someone, I try to shoot him in the arm or something. Just to stop him. ALFRED Momma says policeman shoot black people. Murtaugh grimaces. Alfred’s mother looks away quickly. MURTAUGH Alfred, this man you saw. The meter man ... ? (beat) You get a good look at him? ALFRED I saw him. MURTAUGH Great. Listen, you ever watch ‘Starsky and Hutch’? ‘Cause the police, sometimes they need help. They need police helpers. Detectives. (he takes out a plastic badge, puts it on Alfred’s chest) If you want, you can be a junior detective. If you want. The kid looks at him. Distrust. MURTAUGH Keep it, it’s yours. Official detective. Alfred nods, grins. MURTAUGH The man at the meter. Can you ... picture him in your head? Think about what he looked like. Got it ? Alfred nods. Murtaugh picks up Alfred’s box of crayons. Hands it to the little boy. MURTAUGH I want you to draw him for me. ALFRED I’m a good drawer. MURTAUGH Try to draw the man. Riggs clears his throat. Rolls his eyes. RIGGS Oh, brother. This is good. I like this. MURTAUGH Can it, Martin. RIGGS We’re gonna put out an A.P.B. on Big Bird. MURTAUGH Very funny. RIGGS (laughs) Attention all units. Large yellow bird. Silly voice. MURTAUGH You’re hilarious. Alfred, draw the man, okay? Alfred nods, takes the crayons, and carefully selects a bunch of colors. Lays them out like Da Vinci fixing his palette. Riggs shakes his head. RIGGS Brilliant police work? I think so. TIME CUT: ANOTHER ANGLE Minutes have passed. MURTAUGH Martin, have a look at this. Riggs crosses. Alfred has finished his drawing, and guess what? It’s hilariously bad. Like a six-year-old drew it or something. Riggs rubs his eyes. RIGGS Oh, my ... (begins to laugh) ... Oh, my... He laughs even harder now. Murtaugh scowls, snatches the picture away. MURTAUGH Terrific. Very professional. Riggs is hooting. Murtaugh shows the picture to Alfred. ALFRED He laugh at my picture. MURTAUGH Shhh. Don’t mind him. He’s crazy. ALFRED I’m a good drawer. MURTAUGH You bet. (points) Alfred. This is ... the man’s arm, right? ALFRED Yeah. MURTAUGH Okay. Now this mark. Is this ... What is this? ALFRED He had it on his arm. Riggs stops laughing. Moves in closer. RIGGS Whoa. What was on his arm? MURTAUGH Was it a birthmark? (points to his arm) Was it like this? ALFRED No. It was pained. MURTAUGH Pained. RIGGS Pained, pained. What’s he saying? MURTAUGH Sssshh. (beat) It was ... painted? ALFRED Yeah. MURTAUGH Like a tattoo? (beat) Do you watch Popeye? Was it a tattoo like Popeye has? Riggs rolls up his sleeve, exposes his Marine tattoo. You’ve seen the type: A Tweety Bird with a machine gun, or some such. RIGGS This is a tattoo. The boy’s eyes go wide once again. He points at Riggs’ arm. ALFRED It was that. The cops stop, puzzled. MURTAUGH It was that? You mean...just like that...? ALFRED Yeah. Man had the same thing. RIGGS You’re sure? Alfred nods. The cops exchange glances: RIGGS Special Forces tattoo ... ? MURTAUGH Martin. RIGGS Yeah. MURTAUGH What the hell are we into here ... ? EXT. CLIFFSIDE HOUSE - DAY A sprawling, expensive villa nestled on the side of a bluff overlooking the ocean. Terraces, verandahs, gazebos. Architecture that merits three syllables. The ocean looks cheap by comparison. A memorial service is in progress. A group of people, mostly young, friends of Amanda Lloyd; all are dressed in funeral black. NEARBY -- Martin Riggs is collapsed in a lawn chair, smoking and looking thoroughly out of place. Seeing the girl, he frowns ... puffs on his cigarette, and rolls a quarter over his knuckles like a stage magician. Nimble, trained fingers. A thoroughly unconscious habit. ANOTHER ANGLE Dick Lloyd looks worse than ever. He stands, staring out over the ocean -- as a hand comes out of nowhere ... grabs his shoulder, and spins him roughly around: Face- to-face with Roger Murtaugh. Eyes burning like cold fire. MURTAUGH Hi, guy. LLOYD Roger...What...What’s up, buddy? MURTAUGH Not much. (beat) Wanna tell me about it? LLOYD Tell you about what? MURTAUGH Don’t bullshit me. That’s over. (beat) Your daughter wasn’t killed because of something she was into. She was killed because of something you’re into. Stop me if I’m wrong. LLOYD I don’t know what you’re talking about. Roger, I ... MURTAUGH Keep your hands in front. LLOYD (stops; startled) Hey. Take it easy, man. MURTAUGH Fuck easy. (beat) When you called me the other day, you were gonna blow the whistle, weren’t you? LLOYD Blow the whistle on what? MURTAUGH You tell me. You were gonna spill your guts. So they killed your daughter. Tell me I’m wrong. Lloyd swallows hard, flustered. He can’t meet Murtaugh’s eyes. MURTAUGH Talk to me. LLOYD Can’t ... can’t do that ... MURTAUGH They killed your daughter. LLOYD I... MURTAUGH They paid off a hooker to poison your daughter. Talk to me! Lloyd shoots a desperate glance across the lawn. At his other daughter, Amanda’s twin. LLOYD Dammit, Roger, I’ve... I’ve got another daughter! MURTAUH She’ll be protected. (beat) It’s over, pal. LLOYD Protected. That’s a laugh... You don’t know these people. MURTAUGH Acquaint me. TIME CUT: INT. LLOYD’S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER The two men are inside now. The sunlight filters in through a large picture window from the lawn. Lloyd is pacing back and forth. He touches his stomach in the classic gesture of ulcer-carriers everywhere. Opens the fridge, removes a carton of milk. There must be three cases of the stuff. Drinks, turns to Murtaugh. A man at the end of his rope: LLOYD It goes all the way back to the war. MURTAUGH I’m listening. LLOYD I ended up working for a group called Air America. C.I.A. front, secretly ran the entire war out of Laos. I was part of a special unit called Shadow Company. Mercs. Trained killers. When Charley was bringing in heroin to finance the V.C. government, Shadow Company went in and burned it all down. We killed everybody. But we also ... formed a plan. MURTAUGH Keep talking. LLOYD Couple of years ago, Shadow Company got together again. The war was over, but we still had a list of sources. In Asia. MURTAUGH And ... ? LLOYD And we’ve been bringing it in ever since. MURTAUGH Bringing what in? LLOYD Think real hard. MURTAUGH Heroin. LLOYD (nods) Two shipments a year. Run by ex-C.I.A. Soldiers, mercs. No one knows. MURTAUGH You son of a bitch. Lloyd does not reply. A pause, then: MURTAUGH If you were getting cold feet, why’d they kill Amanda? Why not just kill you? LLOYD They can’t. They need me. MURTAUGH Why? LLOYD My bank. It’s the front. Makes everything look good on the tax report. MURTAUGH The tax report ... ? LLOYD This is big business, Roger. MURTAUGH (ice cold) Not any more. I’m gonna burn it down. LLOYD You can’t. It’s too big. These guys are trained killers. MURTAUGH Tell me about the next shipment. LLOYD No. No way. Murtaugh grabs a framed picture of Amanda, slams it down on a wooden butcher block. GLASS SHATTERS. Lloyd stares. MURTAUGH Tell me!!! Lloyd flinches. Leans back, a dreamy look in his eyes. Speaks from very far away ... LLOYD (softly) Nothing ... wrong with the kids, Roger. We’re all fucked up. Us old bastards ... We’re killing them. And suddenly there is a gun in his hand. Aimed at Murtaugh. LLOYD Back off. MURTAUGH Oh, swell. Good move. LLOYD I’m not kidding. I’m in too far now. Murtaugh does not budge. Lloyd cocks the hammer. LLOYD The gun is silenced, Roger. Murtaugh stares him down. Eyes like fire. MURTAUGH What’s it gonna be, buddy ...? You gonna save my life, just so you can snuff me twenty years later...? LLOYD Things are different now. MURTAUGH I guess. A moment. Lloyd stares intently. Finger sweating on the trigger. MURTAUGH If you can do it, do it. I don’t fucking care anymore. LLoyd blinks. Swallows. Another moment. Finally -- He lowers the gun. Sighs. LLOYD ... What do you want to know... ? Murtaugh relaxes visibly. And that’s when two things happen. The picture WINDOW GLASS suddenly COLLAPSES. Falls TINKLING into a million shards. And the carton of milk in Lloyd’s hand pops, spurting milk all over the front of his black suit. He frowns. Stares at the dribbling milk. Blinks. And his eyes snap open wide, as blood seeps out of his shirt, spattering the floor. LLOYD Roger -- ! With his dying breath, he leaps in front of Murtaugh. Takes the SECOND BULLET. The one meant for Murtaugh. It blows him into Roger, takes them both to the floor in a breath- crushing impact. More BULLETS CHOP thkitchen. China PLATES BURST into a glassy spray. Food spatters and gushes, staining the walls. Murtaugh rolls free, then, a man possessed: Screams out the window: MURTAUGH Riggs!!! 84 EXT. LAWN 84 Murtaugh’s voice is far away. Riggs looks up from his lawn chair. Notices two things: One: Everything seems normal. Nobody has heard the shots. Two: The glass in the kitchen window... something strange, what the hell is it ... oh, yeah, it’s broken, someone broke the glass ... And Riggs is on his feet in the blink of an eye. BACK INSIDE Murtaugh is at the window. Gun pointed. MURTAUGH Riggs!!! MURTAUGH’S POV reveals a crowd of people, milling back and forth, he has no idea where the sniper is, and suddenly BAM -- ! The wood blows out not two inches from his head and he ducks, and meanwhile -- back outside ... 87 MARTIN RIGGS 87 He’s on the move. He jogs ... trots ... runs ... Noticing a lone man in black, striding quickly across the lawn, striding into the crowd ... toward the edge of the bluff ... Things happen fast now, pay attention, as -- The man turns, sees Riggs ... Riggs sees him... and the man is none other than Mr. Joshua. Crew cut. Sunglasses. Moving fast. MURTAUGH diving out the window. Hits. Rolls, comes up. Scream- ing, waving at Riggs ... RIGGS Gun out ... moving fast, shoving through the crowd, people screaming now, “Jesus, he’s got a gun -- !” Running across the lawn, Murtaugh thirty yards behind, moving, hard and fast, both guns drawn, pushing/shoving, knocking people ass over teacups and meanwhile let us not forget -- JOSHUA moving at a dead run, now, gun out ... at the edge of the cliff. People all around him, confused, I mean Jesus, what the hell is all this shooting about, and Riggs can’t get a clear shot ... He’s sweeping the gun, back and forth, bodies crossing in front of him...all the wrong bodies, Goddammit...! Moving forward, shouting: RIGGS Lie down!!! Down!!! Murtaugh, springing hell bent for leather -- and folks, grab your hats ... because just then, a BELL COBPA HELI- COPTER crests the edge of the bluff. An explosion of sound... As it rises like an avenging angel ... Hovers, shattering the air with turbo-throb, sandblasting the hillside with a roto-wash of loose dirt, tables, chairs, everything that’s not nailed down ... Screaming, chaos, frenzy. Three words that apply to this scene. And in the midst of all this -- Joshua steps onto the chopper and is hauled inside. No expression. The total professional. And then, my friends, it’s bye-bye time. The CHOPPER ROARS like a behemoth, tilts -- slips over the side and plummets away ... Slick. Very slick. Except Martin Riggs it not impressed. He’s still running, you see ... Dives flat at the edge of the cliff, nearly flings himself over the damn edge ... GUN extended like it’s part of his arm... Finger flat on the trigger ...Blowing SHOT after SHOT at the retreating chopper ... BAM-BAM-BAM His face contorted in a rictus of animal concentration...And he wings the chopper, even. POP spray of fiberglass, but nossir, no cigar... cause the damn chopper flies away. And Riggs dumps his magazine, stuffs in a new one ... and Jesus Christ he keeps FIRING. As Murtaugh walks up beside him. Stares down. Gun held loose at his side. Riggs still FIRES, BAM-BAM-BAM doesn’t know it yet ... Until his MAGAZINE CLICKS empty. He lies flat. Stares. People screaming, running away. Murtaugh standing over him, staring down at this animal with a gun, who even now refuses to look away from the retreating chopper, whose gun even now continues to follow its course out over the sea. Hands, clutching the barrel. Finally, they relax. Riggs shuts his eyes. Murtaugh stares, and a silent It’s over, but he MURTAUGH You through? Riggs looks up at him. His eyes look like a demon’s. RIGGS I haven’t even started. CUT TO: INT. HELICOPTER - SAME TIME Joshua and his pilot are cruising over the surf at break- neck speed, the rotor stirring tiny geysers of water. Joshua speaks into a radio microphone. JOSHUA Yes, sir ... Yes, sir, Mr. Lloyd is dead. I’m afraid, however, that another problem exists. INTERCUT - THE GENERAL In his van, speaking on mobile phone. GENERAL Define. JOSHUA Lloyd spoke to the cops, sir. GENERAL Are the cops dead? JOSHUA No, sir. I missed. There is a significant pause. Joshua licks his lips. Then: GENERAL That’s very disappointing. The police may know everything. The whole operation, yes? JOSHUA Yes. Awaiting orders, sir. GENERAL Joshua, I think it’s time to turn up the heat. EXT. VIEWSITE - NIGHT A black Camaro is parked at the side of the road. The city twinkles beyond. INT. CAR - SAME Two teenagers, engaged in a first-rate makeout session. One of them is Roger Murtaugh’s daughter Rianne. The other is MARK, he of the hilarious dimples. They are kissing when Rianne suddenly pulls away: RIANNE Mark, I gotta get home. MARK Would you quit worrying? Your mom thinks you’re asleep and your dad’s busy shooting crooks. RIANNE He said he’ll shoot you if we have sex. MARK Some things are worth dying for. He leans in and kisses her. Passion, horniness. Some- thing. He runs a hand inside her sweater. She starts to resist. Gives in. RIANNE Wait. She takes out her gum and sticks it to the steering wheel. * Leans over to kiss him again* 94A FACE 94A comes INTO FRAME. Right outside the window. Crewcut. * Shirt and tie. No less than Mr. Joshua himself, as we -- * CUT TO: EXT. THIRD STREET - NIGHT Martin Riggs walks slowly down the boulevard. In one hand he carries a snapshot of Amanda Lloyd. Male prostitutes take one look at him and flee. He stops to light a cigarette. As he does -- He notices a reflection in the silver lighter. Two pinpoints of light. Moving. He throws away the cigarette. Spins, drawing his gun. HEADLIGHTS, as a car comes barreling out of the darkness. Bearing down on Riggs at fifty miles an hour. Riggs FIRES. The WIND-SHIELD SPLINTERS. No dice. The car keeps coming. Riggs FIRES again, sprints for cover -- As a mercenary leans out of the car window with a pump SHOTGUN. Triggers THREE BLASTS at Riggs. The first two blow out chunks of scenery. The third takes Riggs in the chest. Blows him backward through a store window. GLASS SHATTERS. He hits the ground in a heap. The CAR SHRIEKS off into the night, LAYING RUBBER. The ECHO of gunfire slowly FADES on the wind... INSIDE DARKENED STORE Riggs lies crumpled in a pool of broken glass. Murtaugh charges from across the street. He throws himself down beside the dead Riggs. Rips open Riggs’ shirt revealing -- A bulletproof vest. Riggs opens his eyes. RIGGS I’m pissed, Roger. Now I’m pissed. EXT. STORE The cops exit and cross the street toward their car. RIGGS Roger. Quit looking so damn worried. I’m fine. MURTAUGH Two inches higher, they would’ve got your head. RIGGS Fuck that. Two inches to the left, they would’ve got my smokes. He takes out a pack, lights one up. RIGGS Oh, by the way: Guy who shot me? MURTAUGH Yeah. RIGGS Same guy who shot Lloyd. MURTAUGH Jesus ... You sure? RIGGS I never forget an asshole. MURTAUGH (sighs) So okay, ace: What do we do now? RIGGS Give up? Flee? Go far away? MURTAUGH Hilarious. What do we really do? RIGGS What else? We bury the fuckers. You know, we solve this, we could get famous, do shaving ads and shit. MURTAUGH Do goddamn Forest Lawn ads, we’re not careful. RIGGS Heh. Don’t be a killjoy. It’s Friday night. Let’s go kick ass. MURTAUGH You just got shot, man. RIGGS Exactly. MURTAUGH What do you mean, exactly? RIGGS Gives us the edge, Cochise. (smiles) They think I’m dead, Roger. I’m a corpse. And aren’t they just gonna shit when I nail their butts ... ? They look at each other. Suddenly the police RADIO SQUAWKS. Murtaugh answers it. DISPATCHER (V.0.) Four King sixty, meet four king ninety on tach two. MURTAUGH King sixty, roger. He adjusts the frequency on the radio. PATROL COP (V.0.) Four king ninety, four king sixty. Got a homicide, Mulholland Drive. MURTAUGH Four king sixty, negative. (beat) Give it to Burke. PATROL COP (V.0.) Sorry, sixty. Captain says give it to you. Male Caucasian, age seventeen. MURTAUGH Swell. Did he have blond hair and big dimples? There is a long pause-. Then: PATROL COP (V.0.) How’d you know... ? Suddenly, Murtaugh goes completely pale. So does Riggs. Murtaugh hits the gas ... 97 EXT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT 97 Murtaugh’s CAR SCREECHES to the curb. Hops the sidewalk, jolts to a stop. The two cops are out and running in a dead heat toward the front door. Murtaugh flings open the door. Stops. On the carpet beneath the mail slot is a tiny envelope with SEASONS GREETINGS emblazoned across the front. A note is attached with a paper clip. One side reads DETECTIVE ROGER MURTAUGH. On the other side is a message in block capitals. YOUR DAUGHTER LOOKS REALLY PRETTY NAKED Murtaugh tears open the envelope, afraid to breathe. Inside is a Polaroid snapshot. The audience may get a glimpse of it, or they may not. Either way, the effect it has on Murtaugh is devastating. He drops the snapshot like a live snake. Backs away, stumbles into the wall. Shakes his head. MURTAUGH Bastards ... bastards ... Riggs looks on, stunned. The TELEPHONE RINGS. RINGS again. RIGGS Roger. Murtaugh looks up. Snaps out of it. Down the hall, his wife Trish moves to answer the phone. MURTAUGH Don’t answer that!! He rushes down the hall, scoops up the receiver: MURTAUGH Murtaugh. He listens intently, a look of pure dread on his face. Hangs up slowly, stares straight ahead. On the table, a stuffed bear stares back impassively. Trish Murtaugh looks on, terrified. MURTAUGH They took my kid... Bastards took my kid ... Beside him, Riggs’ face contorts into a look of sheer, brutal hatred ... Get ready for World War Three. INT. MIDTOWN HOMICIDE - NIGHT McCaskey is seated next to a bank of telephones, smoking and reading a comic book. Behind him the fat cop we saw earlier is conducting his choir in a thoroughly hideous version of “Deck the Halls.” The PHONE RINGS. SINGING COPS ‘Don we now our gay apparel...’ MCCASKEY McCaskey, Homicide -- just a moment, please -- Hey, will you guys for Chrissakes shut up?? ... Yes, can I help you? 99 INTERCUT - MCCASKEY AND MR. JOSHUA 99 Joshua is on the other end. Beside him the General looks on intently. JOSHUA Hello, I’m calling from the K.T.L.A. News department. We heard that Sergeant ... um, Riggs, is it ... ? had some trouble tonight, and ... MCCASKEY (interrupting) Yes, Sergeant Riggs has been killed. Shot through the chest by unknown assailants. JOSHUA My God. I’m sorry. MCCASKEY It’s a bad day for all of us. And what is your name, sir? JOSHUA Goodbye. He hangs up. Turns to the General. JOSHUA Bingo. Riggs is out of the picture. GENERAL (nods) I want Murtaugh taken alive. JOSHUA He may not talk. GENERAL We have his little girl. He’ll talk. 100 OMITTED * 100 101 INT. RIANNE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT * 101 Trish Murtaugh looks like she could come apart at any * moment. She walks around the bedroom, slowly. Touching things. Touching her daughter’s possessions. Murtaugh enters. They look at each other. He hands her the .22. MURTAUGH Take this. Until it’s over, I don’t want you to let it out of your sight. His wife nods. Runs a hand through her hair. Shifts from one foot to the other. MURTAUGH They’re not going to hurt her. If I do exactly what they say... they’ll let her go. (beat) She’s coming home. A moment. Then: TRISH What about you ... ? Murtaugh says nothing. INT. LIVING ROOM - SAME TIME Riggs has his shirt off, and is carefully removing slivers of glass from his shoulder. Cigarette dangling from his lips. He hears a noise And spins, startled. RIGGS’ POV - SIX-YEAR-OLD CARRIE MURTAUGH Adorable in a blue nightgown, Rickles the cat cradled lovingly in her arms. Riggs relaxes. Smiles. Carrie walks over to him. RIGGS Hey, Missy. CARRIE I can’t sleep. RIGGS Uh-oh. Not good. He scoops her up. RIGGS Who’s your friend? CARRIE Rickles the cat. RIGGS Huh. He is a cutie. Carrie looks at him then. And she does a peculiar thing. Slowly, she reaches out ... Riggs looking on... And touches his back. Runs her tiny hand over the knife scar beneath his shoulder. Fascinated by it. CARRIE Ouch. Riggs looks at her. Smiles, and whispers softly: RIGGS Yeah. (beat) Ouch... And he suddenly hugs the little girl for all he’s worth. Closes his eyes tight. In that moment, every single year catches up to Riggs, and he looks, for a moment, incredibly old, and so very, very tired ... INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER Carrie is asleep on the couch, snuggled beneath a knitted afghan. Riggs and Murtaugh stand across the room, con- ferring in hushed tones. RIGGS You know they’re going to kill her. MURTAUGH Yes. RIGGS You want her back, you’ve got to take her away from them. MURTAUGH I know. RIGGS Good. We do this my way. (beat) You shoot, you shoot to kill. Get as many as you can. Don’t miss. MURTAUGH I won’t miss. A pause. Riggs studies Murtaugh. Then: RIGGS We’re gonna get bloody on this one. (beat) You’re going to have to trust me. Murtaugh stares at him for a moment. Then, he finally speaks ... MURTAUGH ... How... good are you... ? RIGGS What? MURTAUGH Are you... only crazy ... or are you... as good as you say you are... ? There is a pause. Then: RIGGS No one can touch me. MURTAUGH Good. Kill every fucking one of them. Okay ... ? At which point, my friends, a light flickers on behind Riggs’ eyes. We see grim determination, sure ... But we also sense something else, oddly enough: Anticipation. Riggs is a machine ... and the machine is, well ... revving up. He looks at Murtaugh: RIGGS Get half. I’ll kill the other half. A moment passes between them. This will be the most devastating night of their lives. They will probably die. A RINGING PHONE shatters the stillness. RIGGS Here we go. OMITTED INT. MARTIN RIGGS’ TRAILER - DAY The apartment is dark, illuminated only by a tiny lamp. Riggs crosses to the window, peers out through slatted blinds. On TELEVISION a group of carolers sings “TIDINGS OF COMFORT AND JOY.” Riggs looks at the wall calendar: December 22. The CLOCK TICKS. The REFRIGERATOR HUMS. He goes to the closet. Opens it. A cloud of dust billows out. Reaches in, removes a weathered cardboard box. Sits in the center of the room, takes a shot of bourbon. Opens the box. Inside is a set of desert fatigues. He takes them out. Underneath a wicked-looking hunting knife. He takes that, too. Holds it up near his face, and it positively sparkles in the dim light ... TIME CUT: ANOTHER ANGLE Riggs stands, fully dressed. Colt .22 in an ankle holster. Combat webbing. Desert boots. Beretta .9 millimeter, riding the right-hand thigh. Scans his appearance in the mirror. Breathes: in, out...in, out... Glances at the photograph of his wife on the wall. Wedding gown. White lace-and-satin ruffles. Beautiful. His face is craggy. Weathered. Covered with desert paint. Surely he was never married ... not this demon... RIGGS Forgive me. There is a KNOCK at the door. Riggs spins. Lightning quick. Gun in hand. VOICE (O’s.) Me. Murtaugh. RIGGS Come in slow. The door opens and Roger Murtaugh enters, carrying a briefcase. He looks briefly at Riggs’ combat get-up. Shrugs. Sets the briefcase on the bed, opens it. It is filled with round upon round of ammunition. MURTAUGH Hollow points. Armor piercing. RIGGS (nods) You weren’t followed? MURTAUGH No. Riggs begins scooping up handfuls of ammo. INT. RIGGS’ TRAILER - FEW MINUTES LATER Murtaugh is hooking a wire in place under his collar. MURTAUGH Testing, one, two, three... RIGGS Fine. He straps on his hunting knife. RIGGS It’s twelve-thirty. Let’s move. MURTAUGH Don’t get too close. They’ll spot you. Riggs hoists a long-range sniper rifle. Infra-red scope. RIGGS Thousand yards okay ... ? EXT. LOW DESERT - DAY The desert floor shimmers with stored heat, bathed in relentless sunlight. A lone car, plowing along toward the horizon. Looking lost and utterly alone beneath the clear December sky. INT. CAR - ROGER MURTAUGH Driving. Relentlessly onward, his face locked in a mask of contained fury. Dust billows past the windows. Wind. He keeps driving, straining his eyes ahead, focusing through the hundred-degree shimmer... Noticing, finally a series of shapes...dim mirages... silhouettes maybe, possibly men...possibly the men...The mirage resolves. Mercs. Standing next to a black sedan. Murtaugh stiffens. Leans forward, punches the cigarette lighter, and as he does -- he whispers into his hidden microphone. MURTAUGH Split. EXT. CAR - DAY It happens in the blink of an eye: The trunk pops open, and out rolls Martin Riggs. Yanks a rope. The trunk slams shut. Riggs hits. Rolls. Comes up, combat- crouched, hunkers off at a dead heat. He is clad in his desert fatigues. Magnum sniper rifle slung over one shoulder. EXT. MURTAUGH - DESERT Murtaugh rolls to a halt and steps from his car. Facing three armed mercs. Murtaugh simply stands there, reading the odds. Scanning ... MERC #1 Murtaugh? MURTAUGH Yes. (beat) I’m alone. MERC #1 Hands up. Come with us. MURTAUGH Show me the girl. MERC #1 She’s not here. MURTAUGH Bullshit. Let me see her. Then I come quietly. The Merc nods. VAN comes AT US from across the desert. INT. VAN Inside, Rianne is gagged, helpless. She looks terrified. Next to her, Mr. Joshua holds a cocked pistol. Merc #1 leans in: MERC #1 He wants to see the girl. BACK OUTSIDE Murtaugh waits. Sweating. Hands in pockets. And out comes Rianne, followed by the vicious Merc. He holds a knife squarely at her throat. Murtaugh’s eyes fill with tears. Relief that she’s alive.. MERC #1 Simple exchange. You come with us, the girl takes a walk. MURTAUGH Let her go now. MERC #1 No. Take your hands out of your pockets. MURTAUGH (shrugs) Sure thing, pal... He slowly raises his hands. In his left hand, he clutches a shiny metal sphere. A grenade. Murtaugh’s grip is the only thing keeping it dead. The Merc swears violently. MURTAUGH This fucker’s alive. (beat) Let her go or we all die. And that’s when Mr.Joshua steps out of the car. Deadly calm. All heads turn. Crewcut-Mirrored sunglasses. MR. JOSHUA Take him. MERC #1 But sir ... MR. JOSHUA He’s bluffing, it’s a dud. He wouldn’t risk killing his daughter. MURTAUGH Don’t push me. MR. JOSHUA Take him. EXT. HILLTOP - MEANWHILE Far away. The car and the surrounding figures are tiny. A lone soldier crouches. Riggs. The rifle is on his shoulder. His eye is glued to the scope. 117 INFRA-RED IMAGE SHOWS RIANNE AND HER CAPTOR 117 Riggs’ concentration is absolutely perfect. Like a statue. He licks a finger. Raises it, testing the wind. RIGGS Come on...Come on... BACK WITH MURTAUGH As he and Joshua stare each other down. Tense. Tense. His hand clutches the grenade. Merc #1 pushes the knife into Rianne’s throat. MERC #1 Put the pin back in. Do it. Murtaugh sweats. Mr. Joshua begins to walk forward, gun extended. Cool as ice. Another step. Smiling ... ON HILLTOP Riggs sits dead still, focusing through the sniper scope. RIGGS Come on... Move away from the girl ... MURTAUGH Joshua stops in front of Murtaugh. Cocks the gun. MR. JOSHUA Drop the fucking grenade. MURTAUGH I do and we die. MR. JOSHUA No. I don’t think so. He sights down the gun and pulls the trigger: All hell breaks loose. Here’s what happens: BAM -- ! The bullet catches Murtaugh in the shoulder. He drops the grenade. It rolls, and Mercs dive for cover. The Merc holding Rianne takes a step back. Bingo. ON HILL Riggs grunts. FIRES. BELOW The Merc drops. Joshua’s head snaps around. He stares off at the distance and hisses: JOSHUA Riggs ... ! Meanwhile, Murtaugh rolls, comes up, gun in hand. FIRES, BAM MURTAUGH Rianne, the car! Rianne bolts. Meanwhile -- ON HILLTOP Riggs swivels the barrel, half an inch. Grunts. FIRES. DOWN BELOW The black sedan’s WINDSHIELD SPLINTERS. The car rocks with the impact as the driver is killed instantly. GRENADE chooses that moment to EXPLODE, poof ... into a cloud of orange smoke. A shower of confetti. JOSHUA Dud! It’s a dud! RIANNE is running for the car as Joshua swivels in her direction, lining up the UZI, FIRING a BURST -- Until a bullet from Riggs parts his hair, sends him diving to the sand, the Uzi sprouting flame -- As Rianne flings open the car door, screams -- at the blood-spattered corpse which rolls off the steering wheel. BULLETS BLAST the car. METAL POPS and BURSTS. She jumps in. MURTAUGH is flat on the sand, FIRING like crazy, shot after shot -- As Rianne floors the gas, the CAR PEELING out in a’ storm of flying sand and dirt. Door open. One leg hanging out. Plows into an armed merc. He flies up onto the hood, spins, still conscious, and takes aim through the windshield, right at her ... ON HILL Riggs swivels, lightning quick. RIGGS No. Grunts. FIRES. MERC ON HOOD is blown off the car. RIANNE screams, the dead driver sprawled against one shoulder, her foot nailed to the gas pedal ... as the car leaps like a kicked dog and careens off into the desert. ON HILLTOP Riggs lines up for another shot -- And there is a soft CLICK -- ! He whirls. The General has arrived. Stand- ing at the top of the hill. His M-16 is cocked and locked. GENERAL You’re not that fast, son. (beat) Drop the rifle. He speaks into a walkie-talkie. GENERAL I got Riggs. ON DESERT FLOOR Murtaugh makes a break for it, FIRING blind -- Until the ground before him literally EXPLODES with GUNFIRE. The earth is chopped to tatters. Dirt flies. He stops. Puffing for breath. Raises his hands. As the smoke clears, Mr. Joshua approaches like a demon through fog. He is flanked by two mercs with Uzis- JOSHUA A very nice try. (speaks into walkie-talkie) Kendo. Get the girl. ON HILLTOP Riggs stands, hands over head. The General studies him thoughtfully. GENERAL Martin Riggs. Your combat record is the stuff of legend. RIGGS So is yours. General Peter McAllister, commander of Shadow Company. GENERAL I see we’ve heard of each other. RIGGS Yeah. It’ll almost be a shame when I kill you. GENERAL (laughs) I don’t think so, son. DESERT FLOOR Mr. Joshua says to Murtaugh: MR. JOSHUA You’re about to have a fun evening. MURTAUGH Go spit. Joshua slams him in the head with a karate blow. He falls. EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY Rianne is driving to save her life. Screaming at the top of her lungs, the needle touching 90 as she struggles to shove the merc’s dead body into the corner. Swerving. Screaming. At which point the sand explodes in front of her. She shrieks. A HOWL of noise, a veritable eruption of sand and dirt, and it’s one of two things, it’s either aliens from space, descending -- or it’s a Bell Cobra helicopter. Rianne swerves to a halt to avoid the DRONING CHOPPER, which hovers like a behemoth, ROTORS THROBBING, as Rianne stumbles from the car and collapses in a heap on the sand. Lost, alone, her tears inaudible over the HIGH, CHURNING WHINE as we FADE OUT. FADE IN: INT. BASEMENT ROOM - NIGHT Riggs is naked. He is manacled hand and foot. Chained in a bathtub full of water. Around him is a dingy concrete basement. Joshua steps forward. Behind him is KENDO, an Oriental mercenary. He is working on a mechanical device of some kind. Connecting wires. Riggs grunts. JOSHUA Well, well. Look who’s back from the dead. Riggs struggles against the manacles, slopping water. JOSHUA Please save your strength. I believe you’ll need it. Riggs stops moving. Scowls at Joshua and says nothing. Joshua smiles. JOSHUA You’re just in time for a lot of pain. RIGGS I’m thrilled. JOSHUA Oh, you will be. I daresay you’ll be ... shocked. Kendo snickers in the corner. RIGGS Who’s the chin? JOSHUA Shhh. Don’t make him mad. RIGGS My mistake. Who’s the pleasant Oriental psychopath? JOSHUA His name is Kendo, and he has forgotten more about dispensing pain than you will ever know. RIGGS Terrific. Listen, guys, can we get some Mister Bubble in here ... JOSHUA Please shut up. (studies Riggs) My, my, look at all those scars. (beat) See, Martin, we have a problem. Since we have Murtaugh, we really don’t even need you. But I believe in being thorough. Across the room, Kendo throws a switch. A mechanical HUMMING fills the room. JOSHUA Our problem -- and yours, too is that we have some merchandise to deliver. A rather large shipment, we’re all very excited. It would be unfortunate, however, if we showed up with the goods and found ourselves surrounded by fifty cops. RIGGS That would be a shame. JOSHUA Indeed. So you see, Martin, it is essential that we find out how much the police know. RIGGS We don’t know shit. You killed Lloyd before he could talk. JOSHUA I wish I could believe you. Unfortunately, I don’t. So, if you’ll be kind enough to tell us all you know, I will kill you quickly. RIGGS Such a deal, I should worry. JOSHUA Oh, indeed you should. See, Martin, you don’t talk to us ... He gestures to Kendo, who approaches. He is carrying a very ominous device: a sponge, attached to a portable dry-cell battery casing ... Joshua frowns at Riggs. JOSHUA Do you vomit? RIGGS Sometimes. Joshua nods. Sighs. JOSHUA Back before prison reform, the staff at Sing Sing invented a rather unusual form of punishment. It’s know as the hummingbird treatment. Are you familiar? RIGGS Please, no tickling. I hate tickling. JOSHUA The ‘patient’ is chained naked in a bathtub full of water. A bath is then administered using a battery powered sponge. The pain is said to be so excruciating that after twenty minutes most men are either insane or dead. Riggs is silent. JOSHUA I thought you’d like it. I can of course, kill you now. Simply tell me what you know. RIGGS Guess we’re in for a long night. ‘Cause I don’t know scratch. JOSHUA We’ll find out. Kendo ... ? The Oriental moves forward. He brandishes the sponge/ battery hookup. Dips it into a bucket of water. Riggs is sweating. JOSHUA Feel free to scream. RIGGS Haven’t you guys...heard of yuletide cheer...? Kendo hits Riggs with the sponge. Riggs screams. A high, lunatic scream. Thrashes in the water, splashing Kendo, whipping from side to side as the room spirals back and forth out of focus. Kids, don’t try this at home. Kendo removes the device. Riggs falls backward. Thumps against the tub. Sucking air. Moaning. JOSHUA My goodness. Now that was fun, wasn’t it? Riggs looks at him. Dripping hate. RIGGS I’m going to kill both of you. JOSHUA (laughs) That’s very funny. (beat) About the shipment ... ? RIGGS Fuck yourself. Kendo dunks the battery..Run it down Riggs’ stomach. He screams again, as we mercifully ... CUT TO: OMITTED INT. DINGY BACK ROOM - SAME No windows. Hardwood floors. A single chair in the center of the room. Roger Murtaugh is strapped tightly to the chair. His face looks like something his wife makes for dinner. Black eyes. Swollen jaw. His shirt is off, exposing the gunshot wound in his arm. The General stands facing him, flanked by three mercs. They all wear holstered sidearms. GENERAL The shipment, Mr. Murtaugh? MURTAUGH Go spit. GENERAL (sighs) I hope you enjoy saying that as much as Mr. Larch enjoys punishing you for it. MR. LARCH, a big redneck with no discernible compassion, steps forward. Pours a big handful of baking salt from a container. Packs it into Roger Murtaugh’s gunshot wound. Murtaugh groans. Shouts. Struggles. The General looks on without blinking. MURTAUGH That’s it...if you guys think I’m sending you a Christmas card you’re nuts. Larch cuffs him, hard. GENERAL (shakes his) head) This is going nowhere. Mr. Larch...? Larch grins, leaves the room. A pause. Murtaugh sweats, glaring out from swollen eyelids. The General nods, smiles. INT. BASEMENT - BACK WITH RIGGS as he groans and collapse back into the tub. Splash. Moans feebly. Blood drips from his nose. Saliva drools from his limp mouth. He looks half-dead, probably be- cause he is just that. Kendo pulls away the battery sponge, says to Joshua: KENDO He knows shit. We’re safe. JOSHUA You’re sure? KENDO Believe me, he’d have told us. JOSHUA Fine. (clucks in disgust) Big, bad soldier ... my ass. (beat) I’m going upstairs. Deal with him. KENDO Deal with him? JOSHUA Yeah. (stops at the door) Fry his nuts. He exits. CUT TO: INT. DINGY BACK ROOM - SAME TIME The General leans over Murtaugh. Murtaugh sweats. GENERAL Anytime, Roger. Anytime. (beat) See, the thing of it is...We know where you live. (frowns) In fact, Mr. Joshua has been known to exterminate entire families, when he gets in... one of his moods. Oh, speaking of that -- Larch re-enters the dingy back room. This time he’s got Murtaugh’s daughter Rianne. She is clad only in a T-shirt and bikini briefs. RIANNE Daddy ... please don’t let them hurt me ... ! Murtaugh goes nuts. Struggles, wrenches, bangs the chair up and down against the floor. No use. He is completely helpless. Snarls with rage: MURTAUGH Bastards ... Untie me and I’ll kill every one of you. GENERAL Precisely why we would never think of untying you. Larch shoves Rianne into the corner. She lands in a heap. Murtaugh is sweating buckets. Eyes desperate. The General leans in close: GENEPAL If you know something, son, you better play ball, ‘cause the stakes just went up ... INT. BASEMENT - SAME TIME Kendo switches on the battery again. In the tub, Riggs’ head lolls back and forth. Listless. Dead. His eyes refuse to focus. Kendo shows him the sponge. RIGGS (slurred) No ... Please ... KENDO You die now, Sergeant Riggs. Very slow. Riggs does not respond. Stares into space. Kendo leans over the tub, reaches in -- And that’s when we find out Riggs has been faking. His eyes focus. No longer hazed. He snaps his hand forward to the end of the chain. Grabs Kendo by the hair. In the blink of an eye, he slams the man’s head down against the porcelain tub. Kendo’s nose shatters. The Oriental topples over into the tub. The battery drops to the floor. Riggs is a fucking machine: he flips the chain around Kendo’s neck and wrenches. Hard. He goes limp. Riggs is not through yet. He begins to heave and thrash, thrusting against the chains -- Maneuvering the corpse on top of him. Shifting it. Moving Kendo’s pants pocket within reach. He reaches in. Slowly, carefully, brings out a shiny silver key ... INT. DINGY BACK ROOM -- SAME TIME A length of rope is pulled taut. RIANNE’s bound hands are stretched over her head. Larch hooks the rope around a peg set into the wall. She is helpless. Murtaugh is out of his mind. Struggling to break free. GENERAL Good Lord. Very wholesome-looking girl. Yessirreee. MURTAUGH Goddammit, I’ve told you everything!!!! GENERAL We’ll soon know, won’t we? Larch approaches Rianne. She squirms. MURTAUGH (beat) You touch her, you’re dead. GENERAL Oh, son, spare me. (beat) It’s over, Sergeant. No heroes around to save you ... He picks up a baseball bat. Tosses it to Larch. GENERAL Mr. Larch... She’s yours. Rianne screams. Murtaugh shouts. Strains. The chair thumps up and down, creating an insane, staccato rhythm. The General laughs. Rianne shrieks. Harrowing. Terri- ble. A scene out of Hell. And then the Devil comes in and kicks the door off its hinges. Okay. Okay. Let’s stop for a moment. First off, to describe fully the mayhem which Riggs now creates would not do it justice. Here, however, are a few pointers: He is not flashy. He is not Chuck Norris. Rather, he is like a sledge-hammer hitting an egg. He does not knock people down. He does not injure them. He simply kills them. The whole room. Everyone standing. Except for- -the General, who ducks out a side door and escapes ... Riggs’ chain moves like a live thing. Snapping here. Striking there. Mercs try to draw their guns -- And suddenly their hands are shattered wrecks. One merc draws a bead on Rianne, almost gets off a shot, because Riggs is across the room. Without missing a beat -- Riggs throws the chain. It wraps the guy’s neck and kills him instantly. Ouch ... He goes down, FIRING useless ROUNDS into the ceiling. Plaster rains. Riggs spins, dives. Scoops up the baseball bat. Comes up beside an armed merc -- Swings the bat with hurricane force. A sickening impact. The bat breaks in half. Riggs spins, combat-ready. Scans the room. No one left to kill. Using only the element of surprise, he has taken out an entire room in hand-to-hand combat. He steps in front of Murtaugh without missing a beat. Cuts him loose with a borrowed knife. RIGGS Work your circulation. Crosses to Rianne, cuts her free. She collapses sobbing into his arms. RIGGS Ssshhh- No time. Come on. He scoops up handguns, throws them to Murtaugh. Takes for himself a pump shotgun, possibly the same one used against him earlier. Murtaugh stares dumbfounded at the body count. RIGGS They’re all dead. Let’s get out of here. 143 EXT. HALLWAY - SAME TIME 143 The three of them. On the run, moving hard and fast. They scramble down the hallway, Riggs in the lead, as -- a merc ducks around the corner, sees them. Ducks back. Riggs FIRES through the wall, BLAM -- ! A corpse falls into view. They keep moving. Downstairs. Around another corner. Moving, moving. The three of them keep moving. Rushing headlong toward a sign marked EXIT. They may actually make it...Or not. For at that moment, Mr. Joshua looms up behind them and tosses something in their direction. Ducks back out of sight. It’s a live grenade. The grenade hits the floor. Clatters. Riggs stops instantly. He knows the sound. Spins. Dives. Scoops up the GRENDADE and chucks it with all his might. It bounces downstairs and EXPLODES at the foot of the steps. EXT. BUILDING - NIGHT Joshua skids to a halt next to a sedan. He slams the door and ROARS off down Hollywood Boulevard. The crowd parts like the Red Sea. People are screaming. And suddenly, the doors burst open--As Riggs, Murtaugh and Rianne come skidding out onto the sidewalk in hot pursuit. Murtaugh shoves his daughter back as Joshua FIRES out the window of the car. BULLETS lash the pavement. The crowd shrieks. The CAR SCREECHES away. ANOTHER ANGLE A beat cop comes running up, and Murtaugh shoves Rianne in his direction. Flashes his badge. MURTAUGH Get her out of here. ANOTHER ANGLE - MURTAUGH AND RIGGS go running after the car. Side by side. Beaten. Bloody. Naked from the waist up. Murtaugh FIRING his PISTOL. Shot after blazing shot. Riggs unloading with the M-16 on three- shot mode, the muzzle flash blinding, the noise DEAFENING-- Until pedestrians swarm suddenly into the line of fire. Blocking them. Except Murtaugh won’t give up. He runs after the car, shouting: MURTAUGH Out of the way. Move. His GUN CLICKS empty. He tosses it aside. Pulls another from his waistband. The car. Far away. FIRES FOUR more SHOTS. Collapses in the street. Nearly’ unconscious. Crawls forward after the car, blood streaming from his broken nose...Going on sheer guts. Finally gives out. Slumps in a heap. Riggs kneels beside him as a police CAR ROARS up to them, flashers spinning. Riggs is a man possessed. We PANA-GLIDE with him as he runs forward. M-16 in one hand. Badge in the other. RIGGS Get an ambulance!! He takes off after the Joshua’s car. On foot. Someone better tell this guy to lighten up. The car is far ahead, racing onto a freeway on-ramp. Riggs runs. Sweat pours off him. Seeing the car on the ramp, he changes direction. Starts running an intercept course. Leaps out into the street--Spins, as a TRUCK BLARES out of nowhere, BRAKES SQUEALING, HORN SHRIEKING. Somersaults over the hood.Lands. Keeps moving. Barrels across the street. Faster now. Even faster than before. Feet pounding. Gun swinging. Dashing out onto the freeway overpass. Where, without stopping, he promptly jumps the guardrail. Drops through space ... And lands, thump -- ! Atop the big green freeway sign. Swings like an acrobat. Dangles from the sign, twenty feet above the ground. Levels the M-16 one- handed, switches it to full auto. Waits ... 147 BENEATH HIM 147 Joshua’s CAR comes SCREAMING through the underpass, doing eighty. Riggs unleashes the GUN. It BLAZES with cruel FIRE. STRAFES the back of the car. Sure enough, BLOWS out both TIRES -- Throwing the VEHICLE into a deadly SKID-- Slewing across the freeway--STRIKING the GUARDRAIL at sixty-plus. It slides for a full hundred yards, sending up a shower of sparks. The back tires disintegrate in a trail of burning rubber. The CAR GRINDS to a halt. The door opens and Joshua rolls out. Riggs FIRES. Kicks up a cloud of cement near the merc. Joshua RETURNS FIRE. ANOTHER ANGLE Big chunks of the.freeway SIGN BLOW OUT next to Riggs’ head. He is showered with wooden debris. Riggs lowers the gun. Lets go and drops twenty feet to the pavement. Lands, rolls, comes up. A CAR swerves around him. CRASHES into the guardrail. Riggs doesn’t even look. Instead, he begins to walk. He is a fucking juggernaut. UP AHEAD Joshua turns, sees Riggs--and stops. JOSHUA Okay, you bastard, let’s see who’s better. They are separated by perhaps two hundred yards. Joshua snaps his rifle to his shoulder. Eyes glued to the scope. Riggs swings his own rifle into position -- and we’ve got the showdown at the O.K. Corral. A battle of wits. Each one scanning through the scope. Looking for a clear shot, as CARS SWERVE around and between them. The crosshairs sweep the freeway. Perfect concentration. Riggs. Joshua. Two soldiers. And suddenly, the shot is there: Joshua sights in on Riggs’ position. Only problem is, Riggs’ rifle is pointed right at the CAMERA. He is sighted in on Joshua. Simultaneous. They FIRE at the exact same moment. TWO SHOTS. Two distinct RIFLE CRACKS. Riggs takes it in the shoulder. Blown backward. Joshua goes down, winged. Riggs. Joshua. Each looks like shit. They struggle to their feet ... And that’s when a car backs up into Riggs at thirty miles an hour. Broadsides him. Sends him flying. UP AHEAD Joshua rushes up to a stalled car. Throws open the door. Yanks out the driver, hops behind the wheel. ROARS away. CUT TO: EXT. BUILDING - SAME TIME An ambulance shudders to a halt and two ORDERLIES hop out. Uniformed COPS are struggling to hold back the crowd. One of the Orderlies rushes up. ORDERLY Where is he, Officer? COP Right over there. He points -- and suddenly frowns: There is no one there. Murtaugh is gone. Nowhere to be seen. CUT TO: EXT. BACK ALLEY - SAME TIME A sleek black VAN careens around the corner. INT. VAN A MERC is driving, foot glued to the pedal. THE GENERAL sits sweating in the back seat. ANOTHER ANGLE The headlights flash wildly as the car roars down the alley. The General stares ahead, and suddenly ------- ... ‘Cause wouldn’t you know it, there’s ROGER MURTAUGH. Fifty yards away. Standing in the middle of the street. ANOTHER ANGLE There is no reason for Murtaugh to be standing. He is a walking testament to man’s ability to bloody himself. And he’s pissed... The Merc sees him, snarls-- punches the gas. Murtaugh holds his ground. He can barely stand. And then he does a peculiar thing: He examines his hand. No question. A definite tremble. Scowls. Stretches. Cracks his neck. Shifts from foot to foot, steadying himself. He has one shot. The numbers are falling, it’s all coming down -- And he’s ready. The van comes barreling in. Doing fifty. Now or never... MURTAUGH No way you live. No way. He cross-draws with lightning swiftness. BAM. The REPORT is DEAFENING. The WINDSHIELD promptly SHATTERS. And the Merc sprouts a neat third eye. Perfect shot. Dead center. The van swerves. Murtaugh steps out of the way. Deadly calm. As the van careens past -- He salutes the General. Watches, expressionless...The CAR SLAMS into a telephone pole and rolls over. GRINDING METAL. An ERUPTION of GLASS. It continues to roll like some great beast, crumpling and folding like an accordion... Comes to rest, upside down in a sea of glass ... INT. VAN The General is pinned beneath a crumpled door-frame, struggling to break free, as FLAMES lick upward from the ruptured gas tank... And then the General sees something which ruins his whole day. The Merc’s corpse, sprawled over the steering column...*with a shiny metal GRENADE attached to his belt.*Flames dance around the grenade* 153C ANOTHER ANGLE * 153C The General squirms, strains, yanks for all he’s worth... *Fingers reaching out for the grenade.................... *Flames burning his outstretched hand.................... And it is, as they say, all she wrote.* EXT. ROADWAY Murtaugh is walking like a zombie. Away from the VAN. Gun held loosely at his side. Suddenly--It BLOWS sky high. A tower of fire. Blows Murtaugh flat. Knocks him ass over teacups. ECHOES down the street. Turns night into day for one brief instant. And then--Then something truly incredible happens. For the first time in nearly a century-- it begins to snow in Hollywood. Murtaugh looks up, a “What the hell ... ?” expression on his face. Sure enough -- HEROIN is sifting down on the night air, ten million dollars’ worth... A cloud over the entire’ street. Swirling in the breeze. MURTAUGH gets slowly to his feet, checking for broken bones. If it wasn’t busted already, apparently it’s okay now. Time passes. A hand rests on his shoulder. MARTIN RIGGS Stands next to him. Cops swarm behind them. The heroin snow continues to fall. The wreck burns. Riggs looks at Murtaugh. Murtaugh looks at Riggs. The two most physi- cally abused men in film history. MURTAUGH Well, shit. RIGGS Try not to breathe, you’ll see pink elephants. MURTAUGH Joshua? RIGGS Got away. MURTAUGH We ... gotta find him. RIGGS No dice. First thing we gotta do is get you to a hospital. MURTAUGH Uh-huh First thing we gotta do is check on my house. (beat) I got a bad feeling... He moves away. Riggs starts to follow. Goes to toss his cigarette in the gutter, and stops: There is a tiny, red mark at the tip of the filter: It is the cigarette. The very last one ... He stares at it, a sudden glimmer in his eye. CUT TO: EXT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT The Christmas lights shed a happy glow. The lawn is still littered with toys. Two uniformed COPS are watch- ing over the house, sitting in a police car across the street. One of them munches on a sandwich. The other is doing a crossword puzzle. A car pulls up next to them. The door opens--out steps Mr. Joshua. POLICE OFFICER Excuse me, sir, may I see some ID? Joshua takes an UZI from beneath his coat. No hesi- tation. BLOWS them apart. Walks forward, gun smoking. Crosses the lawn to the front door. Kicks it to splinters. EXT. CITY STREET - SAME TIME A police CAR PEELS around the corner. Takes out a Salvation Army BUCKET, which POPS like a clay duck. Coins shower every which way. INT. CAR Murtaugh is driving like a lunatic. Beside him, Riggs holds a handkerchief to his gunshot wound. INT. MURTAUGH HOME’- SAME TIME Joshua stalks down the hallway of Murtaugh’s house. Stops in front of the bedroom door. Holy Jesus ...He kicks it open. SPPAYS the interior with GUNFIRE. Shreds the mattress, dices the pillows. Trashes everything in sight: Star Wars posters. Stuffed animals. Stereo. Empties an entire clip of .9 millimeter slugs. Except the bed is empty. There is no one there. Joshua snarls. Turns. SERIES OF SHOTS Kicks open another door. TRIGGERS DESTRUCTION. Plaster and wood fill the air in a cloud. Room to room. Search- ing. Growing more and more enraged--because there is no one here to kill. He is blowing the shit out of an empty Santa Monica bungalow. He bursts into the only room he hasn’t visited. Living room. It too, is empty. There is a note, however. Taped to the Christmas tree: Big letters. DEAR BADGUYS NO ONE HERE BUT US COPS. SORRY. -- THE GOODGUYS Joshua swears. Runs for the door. And a police CAR drives through the front of the house. PLOWS into the living room, shearing boards in half, BURSTING WINDOWS, GRINDING to a halt in a sea of glass. Joshua spins, triggering the UZI.- STRAFES the car. A withering FIRE. Empties an entire clip at the front WINDSHIELD, dicing it to SMITHEREENS. Waves the gun like a WAND, STRAFING X patterns, FIRING all the while, completely EXTINGUISH- ING the car and all life within. Stops. Silence. Floating debris. Joshua lowers the gun. Breathing hard. Crosses the room, his boots crunching through broken glass. Yanks on the driver’s door. It falls loose with a metal clang. 163 ANOTHER ANGLE 163 A cop’s nightstick has been jammed against the accel- erator pedal. The car is empty. Joshua spins, startled Stares across the room At MARTIN RIGGS, who sits calmly on the windowsill. RIGGS Ho, ho, ho. He raises his gun and fires without blinking. Blows the gun out of Joshua’s hands. Smiles a big shit-eating grin. Joshua turns and dives through the hole in the wall, lands outside, comes up running, but sorry, no dice because there stands Roger Murtaugh. Drawing a bead on Joshua’s running figure. MURTAUGH Freeze, Joshua. Joshua stops dead. Turns, growling low in his throat. A fire hydrant, sheared off by the runaway car, sprays water high into the nighttime air. The wind blows. Martin Riggs steps out of the house. Pointing the .38 Special like a finger of doom. Strolls toward Mr. Joshua... the gun is rock steady. Riggs’ eyes meet Murtaugh’s, and he speaks with deadly purpose: RIGGS I’ll handle it. He steps up to Joshua. Smiles. And then he does some- thing very strange: he relaxes his grip on the gun--And throws it away. Faces Joshua. Raises his arms, and carefully places them behind his head. When he speaks, his voice drips menace: RIGGS Come on, ace. (beat) Try me. A moment. Then Joshua calmly plants himself in front of Riggs. Around them, water showers down in a gentle cloud. SIRENS APPROACH in the near distance. Joshua and Riggs. Two soldiers. Their eyes lock. And you better hang onto your popcorn, boys and girls, because it’s about to get ugly. JOSHUA Don’t mind if I do. And so it begins. They start to circle. Riggs and Joshua, perfect concentration, round and round and never, never once does their focus break, because, baby, these guys are pros -- And here’s something funny: they aren’t looking at each other’s eyes at all. Rather -- They’re watching each other’s hands. RIGGS His fingers twitch. Flex. Wrist making slow, laborious- circles. JOSHUA Shifting from leg to leg, floating his balance. MURTAUGH looks on, sweating it out. He’s not happy, he wants to end it ... And yet he waits. RIGGS AND JOSHUA All we see is their eyes, straining, focusing, scanning for an opening. JOSHUA Concentrate, Martin...Don’t give me an opening..Wouldn’t want to do that ... Riggs shifts. Blinks. And: JOSHUA springs ... Foot coming out like a shot, Riggs jerking back, inches -- meanwhile, Riggs -- countermove, spins, tries a back kick, no dice ... Joshua no longer there, where is he ... ? Shit --! Comes up, darts a punch to Riggs’ neck -- Riggs fields it, snap the left. It comes out of nowhere. CRACK! The sound of Riggs’ rib breaking carries clearly. He grunts. Thrusts, inviting a countermove ... Joshua counters -- And Riggs snags his hand, picture-fucking- perfect. Breaks one of Joshua’s fingers. Ouch. Backs off. Joshua backs off. The two of them. Wounded, they circle. Round two ... MURTAUGH Meanwhile, is raising his gun, pointing it at Joshua. Riggs’ voice cuts like a knife: RIGGS No. Roger. (beat) No way. Murtaugh lowers the gun. Stares, fascinated, at this contest between two consummate professionals. In for the kill. It is a dance of the forces. Riggs is on fire. Leaps, avoiding a shot to the knee, spins, slams the knuckles of his hand into Joshua’s nose. Busts it. Joshua snarls, drops -- Catches Riggs’ arm over one shoulder. And, ladies and gentlemen... Riggs has just fucked up. CRACK -- ! His arm breaks. He screams with pain. Screams with anger. Tosses three shots at Joshua. SNAP. SNAP. SNAP. RIBS, SPLINTERING. Joshua hissing with pain. Lets go. Back off (Riggs). Back off (Joshua). In pain, they circle. Round three ... JOSHUA That’s it, Martin... your body wants to go into shock... but you won’t let it, will you ... ? RIGGS ... Give it up ... Your breathing’s shot ... JOSHUA so’s your left arm... RIGGS Life’s tough that way ... Oh, by the way: Fuck you. He launches himself at Joshua. Joshua strikes, scores a minor point, breaking Riggs’ collarbone, except Riggs doesn’t care,nosirree Bob... ‘Cause he just hit paydirt: Joshua’s knee. Boot-strikes, BAM -- ! Shearing the knee, maybe bursting the cap ... Joshua shrieks, but then again, so would you. And he promptly jack-knives his fist right into Riggs’ broken arm. Three times. Riggs bellows. Refuses to quit. Slams his head into Joshua’s busted nose. Pop ... Does it again. Joshua, hammering the broken arm. Pow.(Scream) Pow.(Scream) ... Until, son of a bitch... The pain is simply too intense... nothing human can withstand it, they fall away, staggering, wrenching to a shaky halt, facing one another, standoff ... Exhausted, limping, hardly able to speak... POLICE CARS Pulling up now, cops stumbling out, guns clearing their holsters as Murtaugh waves frantically, screams: MURTAUGH No guns. Let it go! Goddammit, let it go!! RIGGS spits, gazes straight at Joshua. Joshua stares back. Two soldiers. This close to collapsing. Until, breaking the silence -- comes Murtaugh’s voice: MURTAUGH Martin. RIGGS Yeah. MURTAUGH Kill the motherfucker. A moment...and then, my friends, Riggs does a peculiar thing: He smiles then. Damned if he doesn’t. And rises up ... Standing. Standing straight. There is no way he should be able to do this. And then he speaks, and it’s like the voice of doom, and all of a sudden we know that this guy is a fucking legend, we know why the V.C. en- forcers whispered his name at night in the foxholes ... He is Riggs. And no one can touch him. No one. RIGGS Last chance. Walk away. JOSHUA Fuck yourself. RIGGS Fine. Die. He steps forward. Stands. Joshua springs -- thunders his foot into Riggs’ hip, separating the bone at the joint ... And Riggs doesn’t blink. His hand comes out. Lightning quick. There is a sick-sounding CRACK -- And Joshua is dead before he hits the ground. Riggs hovers over the corpse... breathing spastic, saliva dripping from his lips... takes a handkerchief, wipes his hand, and says: RIGGS You lose. At which point, he collapses like a sack of grain. MURTAUGH is running forward, tears in his eyes by this time, falls to his knees, cradling Riggs in his arms, while the assembled cops look on in thoroughly stunned silence, what they have just seen is beyond their wildest imagining ... ON GROUND Riggs looks at Murtaugh. Murtaugh looks at Riggs. MURTAUGH Take it easy, Martin... RIGGS ... Right. Easy. You bet ... MURTAUGH Does it hurt ... ? Riggs throws him a look. RIGGS What are you, an idiot? MURTAUGH Sorry. RIGGS S’all right. (beat) I got good news and bad news. MURTAUGH What’s the good news? RIGGS ... Good news is, I’m not dead... MURTAUGH What’s the bad news? Riggs grimaces in pain- RIGGS ... Bad news is, I’m still alive ... He chuckles. Groans. Passes out. The water RAINS steadily down. The night wears on... CUT TO: EXT. LONG BEACH BAR - DAY Christmas carolers sing outside at roadside. A big banner screams MERRY CHRISTMAS to passing cars. Christmas lights. Tinsel. Murtaugh and Riggs stand on the sidewalk, huddled against the chill. Riggs stands, braced on one crutch. Arm in a sling. Their breath plumes out in front of them. MURTAUGH So. RIGGS So. MURTAUGH There are worse things than a psych pension. RIGGS (shrugs) Probably. MURTAUGH Guess I won’t be seeing you around. RIGGS Guess not. (beat) The Department thinks I’m wild. I don’t belong anymore. Not here. MURTAUGH Where do you belong? RIGGS Who knows ... ? Maybe I can get a job on a remake of Cobra. MURTAUGH My son would come see you. RIGGS He’d be the only one. MURTAUGH (a pause; then) Riggs. RIGGS Yeah. MURTAUGH This ... is a bad old world, isn’t it? RIGGS (sighs) Yeah. Sometimes it really is. MURTAUGH Hell. (beat) I’m thinking of quitting. RIGGS Don’t you dare. Murtaugh looks at him. RIGGS You’re too old to change now, Colchise. MURTAUGH Me? Old...? RIGGS You just hang in there. MURTAUGH Yeah. You, too. RIGGS Guess I’ll say goodbye. MURTAUGH Sure. Come over for dinner sometime. RIGGS No, thanks. MURTAUGH Don’t blame you. I’m thinking of arresting my wife for cruelty to bacon. (beat) Merry Christmas, Martin. RIGGS Merry Christmas. He walks off down the street. Murtaugh watches him go. Pause. Turns up his collar against the chill, takes a few steps ... And a man steps in front of him. The same Punk who Riggs beat the shit out of at the very beginning of the film. PUNK Hey, old man, got any money? Murtaugh stops. Stares. Blinks. And proceeds to kick the shit out of him. A kick. A punch. The Punk lies on the sidewalk, semi-conscious. Murtaugh scowls and says: MURTAUGH I’m fifty. That’s not old, dickless. EXT. CEMETERY - DUSK (SAME DAY) RAIN pours down. Martin Riggs stands over a lone grave. There are dark hollows under his eyes. The wind tugs at his hair. The tombstone reads: VICTORIA LYNN RIGGS BORN: 1953 DIED: 1984 He reaches beneath his overcoat and removes a bright green Christmas wreath, which he places atop the grave. Kisses his fingertips. Presses them to the moist earth. RIGGS Merry Christmas. (beat) I love you. The rains starts to fall. Riggs is oblivious. EXT. MURTAUGH HOME - NIGHT Carpenters are at work, patching and repairing. The Christmas lights still shine defiantly. A car pulls up. CUT TO: FRONT DOOR As a hand knocks softly: The door opens -- and there stands young Rianne. Adorable. She looks up at the visitor... It is Martin Riggs. RIANNE Hi. RIGGS Hi. He hands something to her. She takes it. The bottle of pills. It has a red ribbon tied around it. RIGGS Give that to your dad. It’s a present. Tell him I won’t be needing them anymore. Rianne nods. RIANNE Okay. You wanna come in? We’re building. Riggs thinks it over. Shakes his head: RIGGS No, that’s okay. (beat) You have a Merry Christmas, Missy. RIANNE Okay. Riggs turns to go. Rianne stops him: RIANNE They say you’re the best. Beat. He stops. Turns and looks at her. RIANNE Are you? RIGGS (big smile; wild wink) No one can touch me. Rianne blushes. Riggs begins to walk away, into the rain... Until Roger Murtaugh appears from inside the boat on the trailer hitch. He stands on deck and looks down at Riggs. Riggs stops. They stand there in the rain for a moment. Then Murtaugh looks him square in the eye and says: MURTAUGH Sucker, if you think I’m gonna cut the world’s lousiest Christmas turkey all by my lonesome, you’re nuts. Riggs nods. A moment passes. Then: RIGGS I think your daughter kinda likes me. MURTAUGH You touch her, I’ll kill you. RIGGS You’ll try. He smiles. Murtaugh smiles. The rain falls, as they enter the house together, and we FADE OUT: THE END