pavements.
Baby face like a mask
over his -year-old soul.
A colored cat named Cool.
So cool for reasons too obvious to mention.
Fabulous Hoplite.
Our own low-rent Oscar Wilde...
and a very well-connected boy.
Dean Swift.
A sharp modern jazz creation.
Expensive habit.
No bread.
Big Jill.
Hiya, big boy. Give us a flash.
Chicks only for Big Jill.
But a boys best friend anyway.
Christ. Midnight.
Hey,
quiet
brownstone, we go inside to find...
??
INT. BROWNSTONE APARTMENT
... a miniature Las Vegas, complete with music, drinks,
tuxedoed dealers and croupiers: roulette, craps, Black
Jack. Wall to wall people. The fact that casino gambling
happens to be illegal in New York doesnt stop these
Connecticut slummers, hollow-cheek nightlifers, and junior
wiseguys from having a good time.
AT THE CARD TAB
Age 26, lean, hard, the consummate loner. On the surface he appears good-looking, even handsome; he has a quiet steady look and a disarming smile which flashes from nowhere, lighting up his whole face. But behind that smile, around his dark eyes, in his gaunt cheeks, one can see the ominous stains caused by a life of private fear, emptiness and loneliness. He seems to have wandered in from a land
pavement... Becomes a small
dot on the landscape.
TRANSITION.
A DOORWAY - NIGHT
the portal slams open revealing a man holding a huge
pistol,jack cates, s.F.P.D., a large and powerful man... He
stealthily moves up a stairwell.
CORRIDOR
He stops at the top of the stairs... Listens gun still ready.
A continuous sound of running water... Cates moves toward the
bathroom. Rips the door open.
BATHROOM
T
quiet and
uncomplaining. Early abuse and
rejection have taught them
passivity. Only in their violent
fantasies do they feel alive. What
they seek in their frenzied
assaults on their victims is relief
from passivity. For these men, ten
minutes relief is worth far more
than the life of another human
being. Torture, the pain they
inflict, the screams of the victim,
are all part of the ritual that
gi