Angel Script

~This one takes a bit of explaining. I wanted to try something noir but a bit different so I came up with the idea of a Cinematic Read or CRead, basically a story set and paced to an appropriate piece of music. My original intention had been to see one of my TBB stories to either Holst's Mars or Where My Heart Will Take Me by Rod Stewart. As it turned out I got a good idea for a noir story so ran with it instead. This is the original script for Angel, I'll attach a link to the finished product if I ever feel comfortable exposing it to YouTube. Angel forms part of my Noir York collection~

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The city has a heartbeat
You can hear it
At night
If you know how…

She can hear it,
Listening intently she sounds out the rhythm of the night,
The pulse of the city
It’s mood.
It’s life.

The thrum of the late night traffic,
The hustle of a million waking people,
The siren’s wail,
The occasional gunshot,
Maybe a scream.

From up here
High on the skyline
New York is vibrant
Electric

With eyes cold as frost she watches…
She watches…
The club below, her target is in there

She is Angel…
Angel
She is an assassin

Vodka
A trendy place
Russian Mob
Bouncers ex-Spetsnaz, not very bright, very very strong.
Dumb and vicious.

Angel has long hair,
Whiter than snow falling over her shoulders
Onto the tight leather dress
Scarlet as her lips
And black thigh high boots.

The bouncers cannot resist
No man can.
Not really.

The music moves at a steady beat
Heavy bass

The bodies writhe on the dance floor
Moving side to side
Flesh against flesh
Glistening in the heat

The crowd parts before her
Some animal instinct
Preservation
Angel is a predator

She makes her way across the dance floor
Behind the bar
She is recognised
The barman glances instinctively towards the VIP section
Angel sees this and smiles.

Up high he sits
Imperious
Kirill Tarasov
‘The Lord’

The blond man with long hair next to Tarasov
He places a finger to his ear
Saku Skellig
Tarasov’s lieutenant
He listens to the voice in his ear
He sees Angel

It begins

In slow motion

The big Finn stands
He calls others with a wave
They move to the stairs
Angel is waiting

They come, fast
She strikes
A dagger concealed from her inner thigh
The movement is fluid
From one to another

Like a dance

She is up the stairs and the guards are dead
Skellig lunges
Brass knuckles glinting in the disco lights
The movement is powerful
Measured

Angel grabs his hand
She uses his momentum and pulls him on
Unbalanced he stumbles
With her other hand she has reached inside his jacket
She has his gun and shoots his legs

People panic
They scream
“They’re shooting!”
“We’re going to die!”

Tarasov is on his feet
He draws a desert eagle
Angel shoots it from his hand

He runs
There is an emergency exit at the back
The door slams open
He runs down the darkened corridor
Fleeing
He knows the end is near

Angel follows at a walk
Confident
Determined
Knowing the external door is barred

Tarasov turns to face her
The Angel of Death
Her face in shadow
Her hair shining
She is glorious

The bodyguards charge down the corridor
It is dark and a cold wind blows
The door at the end is open

Tarasov is outside in the rain
His eyes turned toward Heaven
His blood mixing in the puddles around
His throat is open
The cut is clean

His expression is not pained

Angel has vanished
Reclaimed by the night

All that remains is the city
New York at night
It never sleeps
It lives
The city has a heartbeat.