ASSASSINS

                                 Draft by 

                              Brian Helgeland

                          Based on a Screenplay by

                          Larry and Andy Wachowski

                                                 March 30, 1995

        FADE IN:

        EXT. PLAZA COLON/INT. BANK - DAY (1980)

        BLACK and WHITE.  The past was so clear-cut.  Or was it?

        Tiled roofs, the stark white stucco of a colonial town

        square.  Black iron bars at a bank.  A briefcase carried 

        in a man's hand.  A sniper's rifle being assembled.  Thick

        blocks of hundred dollar bills.  Placed in the briefcase.  

        A man's teeth as he smiles grimly at the sight. 

        Sounds over a SUBJECTIVE VIEW.  The BRIEFCASE SNAPS SHUT.  

        A VAULT DOOR SLAMS.  RUBBER SOLES WALK a tiled floor.  

        Ahead, brilliant, white light suffuses the exit.  Like 

        the way people describe near-death eperiences.  We're 

        either going outdoors or over to the other side. 

        A long rifle silencer juts from a window.  We see the

        shooter FROM BEHIND, a view OVER his shoulder.

        In the bank, the man crushes out a cigarette.  A pause

        and a DEEP EXHALE as we step outside into a flood of light.  

        In answer, the LOW PUFF of a SILENCER.

        Only the plaza pigeons notice.  As they take flight... 

        A man lies dead on the cobblestones.  And as we look UP 

        TOWARD the window, there's nothing there.  The pigeons

        wheel above the plaza.  We FOLLOW, finally losing them

        to the sky.  SLOWLY that sky BLEEDS from gray to blue.

        And as we PAN BACK DOWN...

                                                   DISSOLVE TO:

        EXT. MARSH - SUNSET

        We're no longer in a plaza, but in a vast marshland.  Not

        in the past, but in the present.  The sun sparkles over

        the water.  Two silhouetted figures move past in the dis-

        tance.  One walks a little behind the other.

        The man in front is KETCHAM.  He wears an expensive suit

        and Gucci loafers.  He swats at flies nearly too small to

        see, curses under his breath at the calf-deep mud.

        The man behind is RATH.  He moves easier; the flies don't

        seem to bother him at all.  His jeans are tucked into 

        rubber boots.  He holds a silenced .22 at his side.  Like 

        it was part of him. 

        They continue until one of Ketcham's shoes is sucked off

        by the mud.

                                KETCHAM

                  Aw-shit...

       Ketcham balances on one leg, holding his silk-socked 

       foot in the air.  The shoe disappears, filled with mud.

                                KETCHAM

                  When I first saw you I wasn't 

                  scared.  I was just wondering why 

                  you were dressed like that.

                         (re:  mud)

                  Now I know.  

       Ketcham pulls off his sock, sticks his foot in the mud.

       He smiles.  It feels good.  He pulls off the other shoe, 

       tosses it.  Grabbing for the other sock, he loses his 

       balance and sits down in the mud. 

       Rath waits patiently as Ketcham laughs at the absurdity

       of it all.  Ketcham finally pulls the sock off, then 

       stands, digs his toes into the dark, wet earth. 

                                KETCHAM 

                  This feels good. 

       They move on, Rath still a little behind.  Ketcham enjoys

       the new sensation, but after a bit, the pleasure fades. 

                                KETCHAM

                  It's twisted, but I'm honored.  

                  You're the best.  It means at 

                  least they're still afraid of me. 

       Ketcham looks ahead as they close on a grove of trees. 

       He knew they were going somewhere, but it's a chilling

       realization all the same. 

                                KETCHAM 

                  I knew this day would come.  But 

                  this morning, I could've sworn I 

                  was going to live forever. 

       They're only a few steps away from the first of the 

       trees.  Desperation begins to creep into Ketcham's voice.

                                KETCHAM

                  Any chance of you telling me who 

                  the Contractor was?  Huh?

                         (off no answer)

                  At least tell me how much I was

                  worth.  A dime?  Two?

       They're into the trees.  Ketcham doesn't need to be told.

       He stops just where a dead branch hangs from a tree. 

                                KETCHAM

                  Here?

       Rath uses the .22 to gesture Ketcham to the left.  Ketcham 

       gives the branch a wistful smile.  Leaving his last hope 

       behind, he takes a few steps over. 

                                KETCHAM 

                  We both play the game, Rath.  

                  Sooner or later the wheel turns.

                  For everybody.  Who's got your

                  bullet?  What kind of shoes'll

                  you be wearing when the day comes?

       Rath's answer is to move directly behind him.  Ketcham 

       is finally showing his fear.

                                KETCHAM

                  Whatever the contract is, I'll

                  double it.  Just say you couldn't 

                  find me.  Buy yourself some good 

                  karma.