Darkness, BLOOD-CURDLING SCREAMS. Presentation credits roll as we
FADE UP ON:
INT. HOSPITAL, INNER-CITY TRAUMA WARD - NIGHT
It’s 1967, the Summer of Love and --
BOOM! Entry doors swing open as PARAMEDICS wheel in a FEMALE BLEEDER,
VANESSA (20s, black, nine months pregnant). She’s deathly pale,
spewing founts of blood from a savagely slashed throat --
A SHOCK-TRAUMA TEAM swarms over her, inserting a vacutainer into an
artery to draw blood, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around her
arm --
NURSE #1
(with stethoscope)
She’s not breathing!
SENIOR RESIDENT
Intubate her!
The RESPIRATORY THERAPIST feeds an endotracheal tube down the woman’s
ruined throat, attaches that to an Amblu bag --
RESIDENT
Blood-pressure’s forty and falling --
The woman starts spasming violently. It takes three staff members
just to hold her down.
SENIOR RESIDENT
Jesus, her water’s broken --
(calling for help)
She’s going into uterine contractions --
CAMERA PUSHES IN on the woman as she bolts upright, SCREAMING to wake
the dead. We PLUNGE INTO the darkness of her mouth and find
ourselves --
INSIDE HER BLOODSTREAM
The sound of a HEART BEATING, pounding as we whip-snake through --
CORPUSCLES
floating in amber plasma. Erythrocytes, leukocytes, neutrophils and
eosinophils.
The rhythmic expansion of the artery walls, pulsing with each
successive surge of blood as the HEART BEATS FASTER AND FASTER,
taking us --
IN UTERO,
A CHILD, alive but unborn, shifting in a sea of amniotic fluid,
surrounded by the white, protective substance known as vernix
caseosa. The HEARTBEAT races like a locomotive now. The unborn child
shifts, turns its head towards us --
-- and opens its eyes.
CUT TO:
A SWORDBLADE
cleaving the darkness, radiant light slicing across gleaming Damascus
steel. Words acid-etched in the weapon’s fine-tempered surface:
BLADE
Main credits end.
EXT. INNER CITY, INDUSTRIAL GHETTO - NIGHT
A decaying no man’s land populated by condemned buildings and HUNGRY
HOMELESS. Steam rises from manhole covers, drifting across the
litter- lined streets. Suddenly --
A black Mercedes 850 appears over the crest of a hill, ROARING past
us, stereo system belting out FILTER.
INT. MERCEDES - NIGHT
Raquel, a wasp-wasted woman, sits behind the wheel. 20s, rich,
sickeningly attractive. Hungry eyes.
Squirming around in the passenger seat is DENNIS, a model/actor boytoy
with a sub-zero IQ and a "fuck me sideways" grin.
DENNIS
So where we going?
RAQUEL
It’s a surprise.
DENNIS
I likes surprises.
Raquel eyeballs Dennis -- "if looks could devour".
RAQUEL
What do you have down there, little
man?
DENNIS
Heat-seeker.
RAQUEL
I’ll bet.
Raquel slides a manicured hand up his thigh, squeezes his groin.
Dennis MOANS. She pulls her hand away, downshifts.
EXT. VACANT LOT - NIGHT
The 850 threads a narrow alley into a vacant lot, BRAKES hard. Raquel
and Dennis climb out. She leads him into --
EXT. MEAT PACKING PLANT - NIGHT
Industry never sleeps, and certainly not this grisly facility. Raquel
leads Dennis around the back of the plant, where a host of WORKERS
are loading refrigerated trucks with product.
DENNIS
What the fuck are we doing here?
Raquel just smiles, heads on into the plant via a loading door. The
workers ignore her.
INT. MEAT PACKING PLANT - NIGHT
Dennis follows Raquel through the bowels of the plant, catching
glimpses here and there of carcasses being rendered or hacked apart.
Through one partially open door we see what might be a line of
BODYBAGS being trundled into the back of a truck via a hook and chain
pulley-system. But Dennis doesn’t have enough time to be disturbed by
the vision, because he’s being pulled away by Raquel, led down --
A STAIRWELL
We are in the basement now. At the end of the hall is a steel door,
with perhaps, just the faintest HINT OF MUSIC heard coming from
beyond. Raquel knocks.
A "peep-hole" slat opens and a BLACK LIGHT shines into Raquel’s eyes.
A VOICE behind the door offers a verbal challenge, speaking a
language we’ve never heard, laced with a devilish cadence.
Raquel responds in kind. The door opens. Raquel gives Dennis a
knowing wink, enters. Dennis follows.
INT. CLUB - NIGHT
Raquel and Dennis move past a hulking DOORMAN, making their way down
a narrow stairway. Dennis is suitably impressed.
THE CLUB
is elite, underground -- an "abattoir-chic" version of an old-time
juke joint with a greasy, dangerous vibe. White-tiled walls and
floors for easy hosing, chromed fittings, run-off gutters, drains. No
bar.
BODIES
writhe on the strobe-lit dance floor. A heavy S&M scene. Leather.
Latex. Tattoos. Body-piercings.
A D.J. wearing head-mounted spotlights orchestrates the tunes on
twin- decks. MUSIC assaults us -- a beat so heavy it could jar the
fillings from your teeth. Brutal "DARKCORE" along the lines of
Prodigy or Underground.
Raquel pulls Dennis out onto the dance floor. They sway.
A lupine-featured GAULTIER GIRL with a streak of white running
through her raven hair moves in behind Dennis, pressing up against
him. Rachel Williams as the Angel of Death -- we’ll call her MERCURY.
Mercury flicks her tongue against Dennis’ ear -- it’s been pierced
with a silver post which clicks against her teeth. Tattooed across
her back in black is a swirling, tribal vortex.
Dennis is now sandwiched between Raquel and Mercury, the three of
them dry-humping their way to every man’s glory.
The beat gets LOUDER. The action heavier. The atmosphere more
narcotic. People are stripping off their clothes, sweating like
fiends. It’s a virtual orgy.
Dennis laughs, reveling in the hedonism. Everything rises to a fever
pitch --
DENNIS
(over the music)
Fuck, I need a drink!!!
Raquel just smiles -- then Dennis notices a DROP OF SOMETHING spatter
his hand. It looks like blood. Dennis looks up, concerned --
-- MORE BLOOD DROPLETS are falling. Raquel’s face is sprinkled with
them now. Dennis stops dancing. What is this? Some kind of fucked up
performance art?
Raquel turns her face toward the ceiling, as if washing herself in a
summer shower, now the other club goers are looking up too --
BLOOD SHOWERS DOWN
from sprinkler heads in the ceiling, drenching the dancers. The club
goers love it, thrusting their heads back, mouths open wide to
receive the crimson offering.
Horrified, Dennis recoils, turning towards --
RAQUEL,
whose face morphs into a preternatural snarl. Her canines extend,
tapering to razor-sharp points. Her tongue flicks, lizard-like as
fingernails sharpen into claws. All this while the whites of her eyes
BLEED RED, pupils oscillating hypnotically.
RAQUEL
What’s wrong, baby?
Dennis SCREAMS, pushes away from Raquel, only --
-- Mercury has fangs now too. In fact, everyone in the club does,
with the exception of poor Dennis. That’s because they’re all
vampires.
Dennis tries to run, but the burly Doorman blocks his exit, brutally
smashing his fist into Dennis’ face.
Dennis falls, dazed. The club-goers close in around him. They make a
game of it, shoving him from one person to another, their pale faces
leering like twisted jack-o-lanterns.
The strobe lights quicken to a seizure-inducing intensity. Dennis
spins, tumbling into Raquel’s arms. She shoves him forward -- Dennis
lands on the floor, falling at someone’s boot-clad feet. He looks up.
A DARK FIGURE sits in the shadows, unnoticed until this moment. The
figure stands, moves into the light as time screeches to a halt --
A BLACK MAN,
towers above Dennis, wearing dark glasses and a leather longcoat -- a
sneer of cruel contempt etched upon a face tempered by a lifetime of
horror. His name is BLADE.
Blade whips open his long coat, shrugging it off, revealing an
arsenal of high-tech weapons strapped to his body:
6-point adjustable body armor, a modified CAR-15 assault rifle with
an ultra-violet entry light, two Casull .454 revolvers, a "Demon"
automatic cross-bow, a bandoleer of mahogany stakes, an Indian-style
katar punching dagger -- and last, but certainly not least, his
namesake -- a silver sword which is secured in a back-scabbard.
CLOSE ON BLADE
A gaze as cold and pitiless as a midnight sun. The vampire club-goers
stare back. Nuclear silence. And then --
All hell breaks loose. With a SNARL, Raquel charges at Blade, moving
at superhuman speed, practically a blur --
Blade draws his Casulls, FIRES in multiple directions --
MACRO BULLET SHOT
as a round roars through the air towards Raquel. A silver-tipped dumdum
bullet which explodes on contact.
WHAM! The round punches a fist-sized hole through Raquel’s chest,
continuing on into the vamp behind her! Vampire blood fountains. Both
creatures tumble forward, their bodies liquefying into puddles of
black oil which go gurgling down the run-off drains.
Blade continues FIRING, then -CLICK!- magazines empty. Next. He
holsters the Casulls, swings up his assault rifle, calmly flicks on
the UV entry light mounted above --
MERCURY
leaps twenty feet straight up into the air. We’ve never seen anything
move so fast. She CRASHES through a glass skylight, disappearing into
the night just as --
-- a shaft of blinding UV "sunlight" cuts across the vampires. They
rear back, skin smoking from the light’s corrosive effects. Blade
opens FIRE, pumping round after round of wooden fragmentation bullets
into the crowd -- vampire genocide.
The strobe lights flicker as the mayhem mounts. Some of the vampires
try to flee, scurrying up the stairs, but the exit quickly becomes
clogged with liquefying bodies --
-- then Blade’s CAR-15 jams. The remaining club-goers see their
opening, surge forward en masse --
Blade drops the rifle, reaches over his shoulder and -SCHINGGG!-
unsheathes his sword with a double-handed grip.
THE SWORD
Four acid-etched feet of blood-soaked Damascus steel. An edge so
sharp it could cleave a shadow in two.
Blade moves like lightning, hacking his way into TWO CHARGING
VAMPIRES. Blade spins again, cuts ANOTHER VAMPIRE clean in half --
ON THE FAR END OF THE CLUB,
a LATEX-CLAD VAMP makes a break for it. Blade flings his sword,
sending it spinning end over end -- THUNK! The sword punches into the
vampire’s heart. The hellish creature convulses, dies.
Beat. Blade retrieves his sword, then senses --
SOMETHING BIG
rising up behind him. In a flash, Blade swings his sword downward,
cutting off the vampire’s right hand at the elbow. The severed limb
falls to the floor --
-- but it doesn’t slow the hulking creature down. It SLAMS into
Blade. Blade flies backwards thirty feet, tumbling over tables,
slamming into the rear wall so hard that plaster rains down from the
ceiling.
Blade suddenly finds himself wrestling with a feral-faced six-footsomething
nightmare named QUINN. The vampire rears back its head,
jaws stretching wide. Every inch of his face is covered with ritual
scarification patterns and Maori-like tribal tattoos.
Blade forces an elbow against Quinn’s throat, trying to keep him at
bay. With his other hand he reaches to his bandoleer, pulls out a
stake -- CRUNCH! Blade shoves the stake through the vampire’s larynx.
Quinn gurgles, clutches at his throat.
Blade rolls out from under, unholsters the cross-bow secured to his
leg. With a flick of a switch the arms of the bow -SNAP!- open,
drawing the bow-string taut. Blade FIRES --
The bolt hits Quinn in the shoulder, throwing him backwards and
nailing him to the wall. As Quinn reaches over with his other hand to
pull out the stake --
Blade FIRES AGAIN. A second bolt slams into Quinn’s other arm,
effectively pinning him like a butterfly to a board.
UP ABOVE,
mounted in one of the corners, is a security camera. Blade fires a
cross-bow bolt straight into the lens.
Blade strides over, placing his sword against Quinn’s chest.
BLADE
Where is Deacon Frost?
Quinn glares, trying to speak, gagging on the stake still lodged in
his trachea --
BLADE
Got something in your throat.
Blade yanks the stake free. The vampire laughs, air whistling through
his ruined larynx.
QUINN
Fuck you, Day-walker, I ain’t saying
shit --
BLADE
Frost.
Quinn responds with a slew of rapid-fire vampire invectives. Blade
sees he’s getting nowhere fast, calmly sheathes his sword. He unclips
a white phosphorous grenade from his combat harness --
QUINN
You won’t stop him, Blade. The Tide’s
rising, the Sleeper’s gonna --
Blade shoves the grenade in Quinn’s mouth, pulls the pin. WHOOSH!
Quinn goes up like a roman candle. Blade turns, surveying his work,
ignoring the howling pyre behind him:
All evidence of the vampires is gone -- with the exception of a few
oily-black puddles. Clothes, jewelry -- it’s all been burned away by
the acidic process of the creatures’ accelerated decomposition.
DENNIS sits huddled in a corner, having pissed his pants. As Blade
approaches, he cringes back --
DENNIS
Please don’t --
Blade simply grabs Dennis by the jaw, tilting his head upward,
rotating it from side to side -- looking for bite marks. There aren’t
any.
Blade moves on, leaving Dennis alone amidst the carnage. As Blade
starts up the stairs, he pauses in mid-step --
A COCKROACH
scurries out from underfoot.
Blade adjusts his footfall, sparing the roach. He continues on up the
stairs, disappearing in the smoky haze.
CUT TO:
INT. CITY HOSPITAL, AUTOPSY ROOM - NIGHT
CAMERA FOLLOWS a bagged corpse as it’s rolled into the autopsy room
by an ASSISTANT.
ASSISTANT
Brought you a baked potato, nice
and crispy. Still warm, too.
CURTIS WEBB, the forensic pathologist (30s, white bread, a little on
the smarmy side) steps forward, unzips the bag --
It’s Quinn, what’s left of him, anyway. Burnt to a charcoal
briquette, limbs twisted horribly, oozing fluids.
Curtis turns his head, grimacing, wafting the air.
CURTIS
Jesus, that’s rank --
Curtis turns back, makes note of the blackened stump where Quinn’s
arm used to be, the ruined throat --
CURTIS
What’s his story?
ASSISTANT
Paramedics said he was still screaming
when they found him. Looks like some
joker had stapled him to a wall.
CURTIS
Pretty.
CUT TO:
INT. HOSPITAL, HEMATOLOGY LAB - NIGHT
MICROSCOPE POV
of a slide-mounted blood smear stained with Wright stain (blue ink).
What we see is a collection of donut-shaped pink things (red blood
cells) intermingled with some small blue specks (platelets) and the
occasional larger, light-blue blobs (white blood cells).
KAREN JANSEN (20s), a fine-featured hematologist with a social life
in suspended animation, sits back from the microscope, stumped. Next
to her is JULIE WHITAKER, a cheerful chemtech.
KAREN
You took this off a DOA?
Curtis sits on a stool nearby, slowly nodding.
KAREN
This isn’t human blood.
CURTIS
Then what is it?
KAREN
I don’t know --
(re: microscope)
Look at this blood smear --
Curtis takes a look for himself.
KAREN
The red blood cells are biconvex,
which is theoretically impossible.
They’re hypochromic, there’s virtually
no hemoglobin in them.
(shaking her head)
Look at the PMNs, they’re binucleated,
they should be mononucleated.
CURTIS
What about the chemistry panel?
Karen looks to Julie, who reaches for a computer print-out.
JULIE
Blood sugar level is three times the
norm, phosphorous and uric acid are
off the scales.
(shrugs)
Like the woman said, impossible.
Karen removes her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
KAREN
Curtis, it’s three in the morning. I’m
really not in the mood for one of your
practical jokes.
CURTIS
(insistent)
It’s not a joke. I’ve got the stiff
sitting in the morgue right now --
look, just come up and see him, okay?
Five minutes, that’s all I ask.
KAREN
I thought you promised to give me some
distance?
CURTIS
This is purely professional curiosity,
Karen, I swear.
Karen rolls her eyes, lets loose a tired sigh.
KAREN
Five minutes, not a second more. And I
don’t want to hear a word about "us".
CURTIS
No problem.
INT. HOSPITAL MORGUE - NIGHT
The dead of night, not a mouse in the house. Curtis and Karen, each
garbed in a mask, stand on either side of Quinn’s body, which now
rests on the autopsy table.
QUINN’S BODY
A preliminary exploratory Y-incision has been made across the chest,
stretching from shoulder to shoulder, then continuing on down the
abdomen. Ribs and cartilage have been cut open to expose the heart
and lungs.
KAREN
You haven’t started in on the internal
organs?
CURTIS
Just the blood sample from the
pericardial sac.
Curtis pauses, studying Quinn’s disfigured face -- the features seem
much less damaged now -- almost as if the corpse were healing itself.
CURTIS
That’s weird --
KAREN
What?
CURTIS
He looks different now, burns are less
extreme, some of these wounds have
closed up --
Curtis pulls out a penlight, flicks it on. He leans over Quinn,
shining the light into one of his eyes.
CURTIS
Tell me something, honestly, you ever
have second thoughts about us?
KAREN
(grudgingly)
Sometimes --
Curtis looks up from the corpse, grinning beneath his mask.
KAREN
-- but then I remember what an
ass-hole you were and I’m snapped back
to reality.
CURTIS
Jesus, Karen, you’re breaking my heart
here --
Quinn suddenly bolts up from the autopsy table, sinking his fangs
into Curtis’ jugular. He snaps the man’s neck in two for easier
access, sucking in blood like a living vacuum.
Karen stumbles backwards, sending autopsy tools CLATTERING.
QUINN
rises from the table, flinging Curtis’ twitching body aside. He curls
his blood-soaked lips back, baring viper-like fangs, emitting a
GUTTURAL GROWL --
QUINN
(crazed by thirst)
-- more -- blood --
Karen backs into the corpse drawers, but Quinn is upon her in a halfsecond,
wrapping a hand about her throat. His mouth opens/morphs
disturbingly wide as if to swallow her head whole, caustic saliva
dripping from his canines --
Karen tries to turn her head away, but Quinn’s grip is vise-like. She
finds herself staring into his eyes -- pupils pulsing rapid-fire,
opening and closing, hypnotic --
As Quinn sinks the tips of his fangs into Karen’s carotid artery and
starts to nurse --
BANG!!! A load of MAHOGANY buckshot chews into Quinn’s side. He HOWLS
in pain. Another load catches him full in the face. He drops Karen.
She falls to the floor --
KAREN’S POV
The sound of RUSHING BLOOD pounding through her skull. Everything
spinning. She struggles to move, turns her head, finds herself eye to
eye with Curtis’ corpse.
ON QUINN
rising, his face torn up, smoking. WHIP PAN TO --
BLADE,
standing at the entrance to the morgue, a streetsweeper auto-shotgun
in hand, sizing Quinn up.
BLADE
Now don’t we look dapper?
Quinn BELLOWS with rage, ripping one of the heavy steel refrigeration
doors from its hinges, flinging it at Blade like it was lawn
furniture --
Blade rolls to the side as the door CRASHES against the wall. Quinn
runs, moving through the morgue like a human tornado, heading for the
windows at the end of the room --
SMASH!!! Out goes Quinn, taking half the wall with him. Blade rushes
to the decimated window, looks down --
BLADE’S POV
Quinn lands on the roof of an ambulance parked four stories below,
caving it in. He springs off, loping across the tarmac on three
limbs, then -SCREECH!-THWUMP!- rolling up onto the hood of an
oncoming car, before disappearing into the night --
BACK UP ABOVE,
Blade spins, SEES Karen bleeding her life away on the floor. She
reaches a hand out to him, beseeching --
Blade pulls away from her grasp, takes a step towards the exit --
then hesitates.
A flicker of doubt washes across Blade’s face. He looks down at Karen
once more, wrestling with his conscience, finally making a decision.
He kneels, scoops Karen up into his arms. Just then,
TWO POLICEMEN
rush into the morgue, weapons drawn --
UNIFORM #1
Hold it, ass-hole!
Blade ignores them, turning to face the window before him. It’s a
good thirty feet to the roof of the adjacent building, a parking
structure -- and damned if Blade doesn’t seem to be considering the
jump.
The Police close in, agitated. Blade crouches, switches Karen to a
one-handed grip --
UNIFORM #1
I said hold it!!!
-- and jumps.
EXT. HOSPITAL/ROOFTOP PARKING STRUCTURE - NIGHT
Blade clears the impossible distance -- almost. He snags the ledge of
the adjacent parking structure with his left hand even as Karen slips
from the grasp of his right --
-- a last-second save, his fingers clamping around her wrist, is all
that stands between Karen and street pizza. She SCREAMS anyway,
dangling below him --
Blade GRUNTS, swinging Karen like a pendulum, heaving her up and over
the ledge as if she were a sack of potatoes. She lands on her
shoulder, clutching it in pain --
Blade heaves himself up, crouching beside her.
KAREN
(gasping)
My shoulder -- dislocated --
Blade places a hand on her shoulder, another around her elbow and
without any consideration to discomfort -CRACK!- brutally pops it
back in place. Karen SCREAMS again as he scoops her up once more and
heads for --
HIS ’69 OLDSMOBILE 442,
which is parked nearby. Midnight-black. The definitive highperformance
heavy-metal muscle machine with an engine big enough to
power an Apollo rocket.
INT. BLADE’S OLDS - NIGHT
Blade sets Karen down in the passenger seat, climbs behind the wheel,
keys the ignition. The engine ROARS to life, belching fumes through
the dual exhaust. Blade floors it, burning serious rubber as the Olds
vanishes from sight.
BACK AT THE DEMOLISHED MORGUE WINDOW
as the two policemen stare numbly in open-mouthed astonishment.
CUT TO:
EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT
Blade pilots the Olds down the streets, moving through a series of
increasingly degenerating neighborhoods, coming at last to the
sprawling warehouse district.
EXT. ABANDONED FACTORY - NIGHT
The Olds approaches a mammoth industrial facility that’s been
cordoned off by cyclone fencing and razor wire. Ultra-violet
floodlights illuminate the area, while an army of security cameras
keep a watchful eye.
INT. BLADE’S OLDS - NIGHT
Blade glances at Karen, cursing himself for giving into his emotions.
He hits a remote secured to the sun visor --
EXT. BLADE’S OLDS/ABANDONED FACTORY - NIGHT
A gate grinds open.
We follow the Olds as it cruises around the back of the building,
heading down a concrete loading ramp. At the bottom of the ramp, a
heavy iron door rises. Blade’s Olds disappears into the darkness.
INT. ABANDONED FACTORY, INDUSTRIAL ELEVATOR - NIGHT
More UV lights flicker on. We’re in a massive loading elevator which
HUMS as it ascends, eventually reaching its destination with a
BOOMING CLANG. The doors at the rear glide open. Blade guides the
Olds out.
INT. ABANDONED FACTORY, WHISTLER’S WORKSHOP - NIGHT
Set up in an old ironworks, the place looks like a cross between an
auto junkyard and an armory. Equipment is strewn everywhere --
lathes, mills, old furnaces, gutted vehicles, an ad hoc surgical
theater -- all of it jerry-rigged in a brutal, oily-tech.
Blade climbs out of the Olds. He opens the passenger door and pulls
Karen out, carries her in his arms.
BLADE
Whistler!
WHISTLER (O.S.)
Are we bringing home strays now?
ABRAHAM WHISTLER (60s)
hobbles out of the shadows, leaning heavily on a cane. Gimlet-eyed,
bitter, his right leg encased in a metal brace. Though his face is
lined with wrinkles and his hair has long since gone gray, we sense
he could kick the living shit out of any man half his age.
BLADE
She’s been bitten.
WHISTLER
You should’ve killed her, then.
BLADE
She hasn’t turned yet.
(pointedly)
You can help her.
Blade and Whistler stare each other down. Finally, Whistler turns and
heads over to the operating theater.
WHISTLER
No promises. You watch her close. She
starts to turn, you finish her off.
Blade nods, lays Karen down on the operating table. Whistler turns on
an overhead light. Karen is sheathed in sweat, ashen. She’s lost a
lot of blood.
Whistler snaps on a pair of surgical gloves, probes the wound in
Karen’s neck with an antiseptic swab -- there’s capillary damage
around the perimeter of the wound, the tissue looks bruised,
gangrenous.
WHISTLER
Localized necrosis. She’s borderline.
Another hour and she’d be well into
the change.
Whistler cracks open a smelling salt capsule and waves under Karen’s
nose. As she starts to stir --
WHISTLER
Can you hear me, woman?
Karen’s eyes open wide. She’s scared, disoriented --
KAREN
What -- ?
WHISTLER
You’ve been bitten by a vampire. We’ve
got to try and burn out the venom,
just like a rattlesnake bite --
Whistler reaches for a massive syringe filled with caustic-looking
fluid. Karen sees the syringe, resists --
WHISTLER
Hold her.
Blade forces Karen back. Whistler readies the syringe.
WHISTLER
(reading her name tag)
"Dr. Karen Jansen". Listen close, I’m
going to inject you with an antidote
made from allium setivum -- garlic.
This is going to hurt. A lot.
Whistler sinks the needle into Karen’s neck and depresses the
plunger. "Hurt" doesn’t begin to describe what Karen experiences
next. Imagine undergoing childbirth while someone pumps battery acid
through your veins.
Karen SHRIEKS, her body going into uncontrolled paroxysms. The wound
on her neck begins to smoke as the antidote attacks the poisonous
vampire venom.
Karen clutches at Blade’s arms, digging her nails in. She stares up
at him with unflinching intensity, like a child desperately searching
for assurance.
ON BLADE,
uncomfortable playing the roll of nursemaid. He’d like nothing more
than to be done with this, but the only thing he can do is hold Karen
while she rides out the seizures.
KAREN’S POV
growing darker by the moment. The last thing she sees is Blade
staring down at her -- then the night closes in.
INT. HOUSE OF EREBUS, MEETING ROOM - NIGHT
CLOSE ON a monitor featuring footage taken at the vampire club
massacre. Blade turns and stares into the camera, fires his crossbow.
The screen cuts to static.
A WITHERED, CLAWED HAND
moves into frame, holding a remote. With a tap of a button, the
monitor goes dark.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL a large, minimalist conference room -- the House
of Erebus, seat of the vampire race’s legislative assembly.
Gathered around a massive table are the TWELVE VAMPIRE ELDERS,
representing a "rainbow" of racial colors -- names like PALLINTINE,
VON ESPER, ASHE, BAVA. Two of them, the FAUSTINAS, are identical
twins -- lethal-looking women with alabaster skin.
Chilled carafes filled with blood are situated along the table. From
time to time, a member will pour themselves a glass, or perhaps, help
themselves to the bowls of human finger bones which serve as snacks.
At the head of the table is GAETANO DRAGONETTI, current vampire
"Overlord". Blood-red eyes, parchment skin stretched over skull-like
features. Incalculably ancient, but still deadly and virile as a
viper.
Dragonetti speaks. He uses the "secret tongue" -- the ancient vampire
language which utilizes consonants human vocal chords are incapable
of reproducing.
DRAGONETTI
(subtitled)
Blade. Once again, our interests have
fallen victim to his ridiculous
crusade. He must be destroyed.
FROST (O.S.)
(in English)
You’re wrong, Dragonetti.
All heads turn. Who would dare such impudence?
DEACON FROST,
a mere "Underlord" in the vampire hierarchy, steps forward.
Strikingly handsome, younger, less conservative than his superiors,
fueled with a passionate intensity. Amongst the vampire community
he’s known as an agitator. He’s also the vampire equivalent of a
racial supremacist.
FROST
The Day Walker represents a unique
opportunity. We’d be fools to waste
it by killing him.
DRAGONETTI
(subtitled, taking umbrage)
Deacon Frost. You refuse to speak our
language, you insult the House of
Erebus by using the humans’
gutter-tongue, have you no respect
for tradition?
FROST
Why should I respect something which
has outlived its purpose?
This causes quite a stir amongst the other vampires. Frost might as
well have slapped Dragonetti in the face.
DRAGONETTI
(simmering)
I see. And what would you have us do
with this "half-breed"?
FROST
Study him. Unlock the secrets of his
DNA. He’s the key we’ve been looking
for.
DRAGONETTI
He is an abomination!
Dragonetti slams his fist down, toppling a carafe, spilling blood
across the tabletop. Frost looks to the others --
FROST
Why should we spend our lives
cringing from the daylight when his
blood offers us an alternative?
Enough talk. It’s time we stepped out
of the shadows!
Dragonetti looks apoplectic. ELDER PALLINTINE, a five-hundred yearold
vampire inhabiting the body of a prepubescent boy, interjects.
PALLINTINE
You’re out of line, Frost.
FROST
Am I? Or am I just the first to say
out loud what we’ve all been
thinking?
The fact that no one answers is telling. Dragonetti glowers at the
other Elders, sensing the tide turning.
DRAGONETTI
The shadows suit us, Frost. We’ve
existed this way for thousands of
years. Who are you to challenge our
ways?
FROST
Someone who’s sick of living off
scraps. The coming age belongs to us,
not the humans!
(to the others)
When the final war between our races
comes, who do you want leading the
charge?
Frost stabs an accusing finger at the Overlord.
FROST
Some withered up fossil ready to snap
like a brittle bone at the first sign
of change?
Dragonetti GROWLS like an beast, raking his claws across the tyro
vampire’s face, knocking him to the ground.
DRAGONETTI
Get out!!!
Frost picks himself up, touches the gashes on his cheek. Looks at his
fingers, licks the blood from them.
FROST
Careful, old fang. You might wake up
one day and find yourself extinct.
Frost smiles at Dragonetti and calmly exits the room.
INT. WHISTLER’S WORKSHOP, BLADE’S CELL - DAY
ON KAREN as she comes to. Her wounds have been bandaged. She rises, a
little shaky, takes in her surroundings -- She’s in a spartan room,
like a monk’s cell. On the wall is a collection of knives and
daggers. Some of them wooden, their hilts inscribed with bizarrelooking
runes. In the center of these weapons rests --
BLADE’S SWORD,
hanging like a cross in a chapel, dominating all else. Karen touches
it. Then her eyes drop to a silver locket which dangles from the hilt
by a tarnished chain. She reaches for it, opens it --
The locket features a photo, old and faded. It’s the black woman we
saw in the prologue, Vanessa, standing in the sunshine.
Karen moves towards the door, cautious --
INT. WHISTLER’S WORKSHOP - DAY
We hear VOICES now, coming from beyond a series of black-out
curtains. Karen pushes one aside and SEES --
BLADE
strapped into some kind of Inquisition-esque restraint chair. His
shirt is off, his body slick with sweat. Whistler finishes strapping
Blade in, then stands back, holding up a gas-powered pistol injector,
hesitant --
WHISTLER
I had to increase the dose. You’re
building up a resistance to the
serum --
BLADE
(impatient)
Just do it, old man.
Whistler nods, fitting Blade with a bite guard. Then he presses the
pistol-injector against Blade’s carotid artery.
Blade shakes violently, grinding his teeth through the bite guard,
veins cording in his neck. He clutches Whistler’s hand, holding it
tightly as he fights his way through the hellish seizure. To his
credit, Whistler never lets go.
Mentor and student stare at one another as the mysterious serum runs
its violent course. We understand that these shared moments, oddly
private in their horror, are the glue which binds the two vampire
hunters together. Finally, Blade slumps forward in his restraints,
exhausted.
KAREN
She draws back, instinctively knowing that she’s just witnessed
something she shouldn’t have. She looks for an exit, SEES another
doorway. She makes for it --
INT. WHISTLER’S LAB - TANK ROOM - DAY
A dusty, darkened hole of a room, no windows, just shadows, crumbling
concrete, rust stains, and --
A LARGE TANK
filled with swirling blood plasma, choked with electrical leads and
biomedical sensors. SOMETHING floats within, suspended in the murky
fluid -- a child , two or three years of age, drifting about like a
medical oddity preserved in formaldehyde --
THUMP! The child SLAMS up against the glass. Karen backpedals,
startled. Its eyes are open now, pupils blown. It snarls, revealing a
mouthful of razored fangs, trailing mouth-slime across the glass as
it futilely tries to chew its way through to Karen.
Karen stifles a sob, turning and running right into --
BLADE,
who now blocks the exit, sword in hand. Karen retreats a step,
wary --
BLADE
You shouldn’t be here.
KAREN
I’m sorry, I --
WHISTLER (O.S.)
Wandered off the beaten path, Doctor?
Whistler has entered the room from a second doorway. Karen looks from
Whistler to Blade, trapped between them --
KAREN
Who are you people?
WHISTLER
My name is Abraham Whistler.
(re: Blade)
This is Blade. As for our little
homunculus here --
Whistler limps over to the tank, rapping his cane against it. The
creature snaps at it reflexively, following the silver tip back and
forth like a fish after a lure.
BLADE
-- he’s a vampire.
KAREN
You’re joking --
WHISTLER
Not at all. You’re looking at a prime
specimen of the homines nocturna.
Whistler toys with the feral creature, engaging in a certain amount
of sadistic delight as its efforts grow increasingly more frenzied.
Suddenly, it surges towards the top of the tank, clawing at the
lid --
Karen becomes alarmed -- but then a massive ELECTRICAL JOLT shocks
the creature back into submission.
WHISTLER
If Blade hadn’t brought you here, you
would’ve wound up like him.
Karen brings a hand to her bandaged neck, recalling the events of the
previous night. She looks to Blade.
KAREN
Why did you help me?
Blade scowls, his gaze flickering to Whistler.
BLADE
Stupidity.
WHISTLER
(appraising her)
Maybe not. I did some checking, she’s
a hematologist. Knowledge like that
might come in handy.
BLADE
It’s not worth the risk. We can’t
trust her.
KAREN
Why?
BLADE
Because you’re tainted. The venom’s
still inside you. You could still
turn on us.
KAREN
What happens then?
Blade looks to Whistler -- as far as he’s concerned, the debate’s
over.
BLADE
Then I have to take you out, just
like any other bloodsucker.
Blade turns and exits. Whistler and Karen follow.
INT. WHISTLER’S WORKSHOP - DAY
Beyond the grimy outer windows, we can see that the day is closing --
long shadows, amber light. Karen lingers in the doorway, reeling from
information overload.
Blade begins suiting up for his nightly hunt -- strapping on body
armor, loading ammunition. He strings the tarnished locket around his
neck as if it were an amulet that could ward off evil, then pauses to
inspect a modified pistol, sighting down the length of it.
BLADE
We hunt them, moving from one city to
the next, tracking their migrations.
They’re hard to kill. They tend to
regenerate.
CLACK! Blade pulls the trigger on an empty chamber, then checks his
next weapon --
KAREN
(sarcastic)
So what do you use, then? A stake?
WHISTLER
(nodding)
Some of the old wives’ tales are true
-- they’re severely allergic to
silver, various types of wood. Feed
them garlic and they’ll go into
anaphylactic shock --
Whistler picks up a customized rifle with a UV entry light, flicking
on the beam.
WHISTLER
-- and of course there’s always
sunlight, ultra-violet rays.
Karen shakes her head, incredulous --
KAREN
And you honestly expect me to believe
all this?
BLADE
I don’t care what you believe. I
saved your life once, I don’t plan on
making a habit of it. You want my
advice, you’ll be out of the city by
nightfall. If you’re stupid enough to
stay, that’s your business.
KAREN
I can’t just leave. I have a life
here, a career --
BLADE
Not anymore. You’ve seen one of them.
You won’t be allowed to live after
that.
Karen stares at Blade. Whistler gestures to the windows --
WHISTLER
There’s a war going on out there.
Blade, myself, a few others -- we’ve
tried to keep it from spilling over
onto the streets.
(beat)
Sometimes people like yourself get
caught in the cross-fire.
Whistler shrugs. As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing else to
say. Karen is still protesting, though.
KAREN
I can go to the police. I have blood
samples back at the hospital. I can
show them.
BLADE
Do it. You’ll be dead before you can
file the complaint.
KAREN
That’s ridiculous! No one’s that
powerful.
Whistler sighs. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly.
WHISTLER
You’re talking about a brotherhood
that predates the Catholic Church by
thousands of years. Their survival
depends on their ability to blend in.
Chances are, you’ve encountered them
and not even known it. On the subway,
in a bar --
Blade slings his CAR-15 onto his shoulder, impatient. He starts
towards the Olds, gesturing.
BLADE
Get in. You’re leaving.
WHISTLER
Wait.
Whistler tosses a small metal canister to Karen.
WHISTLER
Consider it a parting gift. Vampire
mace -- silver nitrate, essence of
garlic.
KAREN
(in disbelief)
So that’s it? You guys just patch me
up and send me on my way?
WHISTLER
There is one other thing. I’d buy
yourself a gun if I were you. If you
start becoming sensitive to the
daylight, if you start becoming
thirsty regardless of much you’ve had
to drink -- then I suggest you take
that gun and use it on yourself.
Better that, than the alternative.
Karen stares at Whistler, horrified, as we --
CUT TO:
INT. THE VAMPIRE ARCHIVES - DAY
We are deep in the narrow stacks of a sepulchral archive. Exactly
what and where this place is will become more clear later on.
But for now, the CAMERA DRIFTS through the warren of aisles. Along
the way, we catch a glimpse of a HULKING SILHOUETTE cowering behind a
series of Japanese shoji screens. Later on, we find --
FROST
tucked away in a carrel, surrounded by books and scriptures, with
only the SICKLY GLOW of his laptop to provide light.
DRAGONETTI (O.S.)
What are you doing here?
Frost pauses, SEEING Dragonetti emerge from the shadows.
DRAGONETTI
(outraged)
These archives are restricted to
members of the House of Erebus.
FROST
Please. You and the other Elders
wouldn’t know what to do with these
texts if your lives depended on it.
(cryptically)
Which, of course, they do.
DRAGONETTI
You’re wasting your time, Frost. Far
greater scholars than you have tried
to decipher these words. Whatever
secrets they hold have been lost.
FROST
Perhaps.
Frost studies Dragonetti, a self-satisfied grin on his face. If the
act was intended to unnerve Dragonetti, it succeeded, though the
ancient vampire would never admit it.
DRAGONETTI
What are you up to, Frost?
Frost shuts the lid on his laptop, rising, drawing intimidatingly
close to Dragonetti.
FROST’S VOICE
Wouldn’t you like to know, Old Fang?
A beat as the young turk stares his elder down. Dragonetti is the
first to lose his nerve. Frost smiles and exits, leaving the old
vampire to lick his wounds.
CAMERA DRIFTS back to the hulking silhouette, which has been
eavesdropping on the conversation. It quivers in fear.
INT. BLADE’S OLDS (ON KAREN’S STREET CORNER) - DAY
Blade brings the car to a stop. Karen looks at him. His eyes are
hidden behind his glasses, his expression stone.
BLADE
Remember what we said. Keep your eyes
open. They’re everywhere.
EXT. KAREN’S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY
As Karen climbs out, Blade swings the door shut behind her. The Olds
ROARS off down the quiet residential street.
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING, LOBBY - DAY
Karen crosses the lobby, stepping into an elevator. Just as the doors
are closing, a WOMAN and TWO MEN duck in alongside her.
INT. ELEVATOR - DAY
Silence, the uncomfortableness of an elevator ride magnified tenfold.
Karen can FEEL the eyes of her fellow passengers upon her. Finally
succumbing to paranoia, she hazards a glance -- would she be able to
tell if these people weren’t human? The woman turns to Karen,
smiles --
Karen surreptitiously fishes the "vampire mace" from her pocket,
clutching it -- and now one of the men turns to look at her,
nodding --
INT. KAREN’S APARTMENT BUILDING, HALLWAY - DAY
The elevator doors open. Karen hurries out, heads left, finds herself
in a deserted hallway. She looks back --
-- then skips a heartbeat as the trio also step out! As Karen raises
the canister of mace --
-- the trio turn and head down to the right. Karen breathes a sigh of
relief, shakes her head.
INT. KAREN’S APARTMENT - DAY
Karen enters quickly, bolting the door behind her. She picks up the
phone, dials 911 --
KAREN
I need the police. This is an
emergency --
As Karen waits to be connected, she moves to the back entrance and
checks the locks -- then the windows, then the fire escape --
finally, a VOICE comes on the other end.
KAREN
Hello? My name is Karen Jansen, I was
with Curtis Webb at Mid-Town Hospital
last night -- that’s right, I
witnessed the attack --
(listening)
115 Aurora, apartment 3G. Yes, I’ll
wait here. Please hurry.
Karen hangs up the phone and turns --
A SHAFT OF BRIGHT SUNLIGHT
streams in through a window. Karen forces herself to look at it and
winces, shielding her eyes. Again, she brings a hand to the bandaged
wound on her neck. She moves to the window, pulling the shade down,
frightened.
KAREN
Get a grip on yourself, girl.
She sinks down into a chair to wait, setting Whistler’s vampire mace
aside. Then she shuts her eyes, massaging her temples. We SEE --
A BRIEF FLASH OF
Quinn, his mouth opening wide, saliva dripping from his fangs. His
pupils pulsating hypnotically. We rush into his gaping maw and --
WHAM! We’re back to reality. Karen wakes with a start, looks to the
windows -- time has passed, it’s getting dark outside --
-- and someone is KNOCKING at the front door. Karen reaches for the
vampire mace, then moves to the door. She looks through the peephole,
cautious --
KAREN
Who is it?
KAREN’S POV (FISH-EYE)
A POLICE OFFICER stands in the hallway -- 30s, handsome, a knight in
shining armor as far as she’s concerned.
GIDEON
Sergeant Gideon. I’m responding to a
911 call.
Karen visibly relaxes. She opens the door and steps aside, allowing
Gideon to enter.
KAREN
Yes, that was me, I’m Karen Jansen --
Gideon smiles, takes a quick glance around the room, then studies
Karen’s face, the bandages on her neck.
GIDEON
Are you all right?
(off Karen’s nod)
I’m glad you called, Ms. Jansen, we’ve
been anxious to get a hold of you. You
disappeared on us for a while.
KAREN
I know. Listen -- do you have any idea
what happened to Curtis, the other
doctor?
GIDEON
(matter of fact)
Oh, he’s dead. But I wouldn’t worry
about that if I were you.
KAREN
(alarmed)
Why?
Gideon’s smile vanishes as he unholsters his gun.
GIDEON
Because you’re dead too.
Karen GASPS. She has a half-second to act -- in which she triggers a
spray of vampire mace into Gideon’s face. Gideon stumbles back,
blinded, cursing, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eyes --
Karen expects pyrotechnics -- but the end result is little more than
an annoyance. A second later, Gideon is simply blinking, sniffing his
fingers, confused --
GIDEON
Garlic?
KAREN
He said it would work against
vampires --
Gideon bursts out laughing.
GIDEON
Who said I was a vampire?
Gideon shakes his head, still snickering. He forces Karen against the
wall, placing the gun against her head --
GIDEON
Thanks for the laugh. You can shut
your eyes if you want to.
CRASH!!! The front door explodes open as Blade comes flying through
it!
Gideon tries to bring his pistol up -- but Blade grips the man’s hand
and squeezes. Gideon SCREAMS as his bones snap like kindling. The
pistol falls from his grasp --
Blade fires his fist into Gideon’s gut again and again, then flings
the officer across the room, sending him SMASHING into a glass-cased
cabinet. Bleeding, battered, Gideon struggles to stand --
Blade is all over him, kicking the shit out of the rogue cop until he
sinks to the floor in a half-conscious haze.
Blade stands over Gideon’s limp form, fists clenched, breathing
heavily, touching down after his adrenaline high. Finally, he looks
to Karen --
BLADE
You okay?
Karen nods, glances at Gideon --
KAREN
How did you know?
BLADE
Figured they’d send someone after you.
Thought I’d wait around and see who
showed up.
KAREN
You used me as bait?!
BLADE
It worked, didn’t it?
KAREN
But, he could’ve --
BLADE
He didn’t. Get over it.
Blade kneels next to Gideon. He turns the man’s head, inspects the
neck, the skin behind the ear --
KAREN
But he’s a policeman --
BLADE
He’s a familiar. A human who works for
the vampires. See this mark?
Blade pushes aside Gideon’s hair, revealing a tiny, cryptic symbol
tattooed into the man’s scalp.
BLADE
That’s a glyph, kind of like a vampire
cattle brand. That means Officer
Friendly here is someone’s property.
Any of the other vampire’s try to
bleed him, they’ll have to answer to
Friendly’s owner --
(studying the glyph)
This glyph belongs to Deacon Frost.
We’ve been tracking him for a while
now --
KAREN
Why in God’s name would anyone want to
work for them?
BLADE
Because they’re vampire wanna-bes. If
they’re loyal, if they prove
themselves, then their masters will
turn them.
KAREN
And that’s a good thing?
BLADE
For some. Live forever, never get old.
The ultimate high.
Just then, Gideon MOANS. Blade drags the man up so they’re eye to
eye.
BLADE
How ’bout you, Officer? You a good
little bloodhound?
CUT TO:
EXT. KAREN’S APARTMENT BUILDING - DUSK
Blade and Karen are now standing by Gideon’s police cruiser which is
parked outside Karen’s apartment. Blade shoves Gideon against the
hood of the cruiser. He finds Gideon’s keys, moves to the trunk,
opens it --
IN THE TRUNK --
A sophisticated medical cooling unit for transporting organs. Blade
opens the unit, coolant vapor hisses out. Inside are plastic bags
containing blood.
BLADE
Looks like our friend was
blood-running.
(to Gideon)
Where were you headed?
Gideon mumbles through a split lip and chipped teeth --
GIDEON
Mphuck you --
WHAM! Blade plants Gideon’s face into the hood of the car. Gideon
GROANS, coughs --
GIDEON
Jesus -- 1227 Brookner --
Holliston Clinic --
Blade releases him, then reaches for his Casull.
KAREN
What are you doing?!
BLADE
Preventive medicine.
Karen steps in front of Blade, shielding Gideon.
KAREN
You can’t do this, he’s human, it’s
murder.
BLADE
It’s war, now get the fuck out of the
way!
Karen grabs Blade’s arm, wrestling with him, trying to push his hand
away. As the two of them struggle, Gideon makes a break for it,
stumbling across the lawn. Blade pushes Karen aside, takes aim,
FIRES --
-- but Gideon ducks into an alley, disappearing from sight. Blade
spins on Karen, enraged --
BLADE
God-damnit!!! Do you have any idea
what you just did?! He’ll warn them.
They’ll be waiting!
But Karen’s defiant, she’s not backing down.
KAREN
You were going to kill him. What was I
supposed to do?! Shut my eyes and
pretend I didn’t see what I saw?
Blade tears off his glasses. Karen gasps --
BLADE’S EYES
aren’t human, nor are they vampire. They’re something else -- emerald
green, laced with swirling flecks of red.
BLADE
Let me set you straight on something,
Doctor. What you’ve "seen" so far is
nothing. The world you live in’s just
the sugar-coated topping. There’s
another world beneath it, the real
world -- and it’s a fucking bloodbath.
If you want to survive in it, you’d
better pull your head out of your ass.
Blade slips his glasses back on, leaving Karen shocked into silence.
He heads for his Olds without looking back, climbs in, guns the
engine. In seconds, he’s gone, tearing off down the street in a cloud
of exhaust.
EXT. EDGEWOOD TOWERS, PENTHOUSE - DUSK
We are soaring through the air above the gleaming city skyline,
moving towards the Edgewood Towers whose windows reflect the bloodred
sinking sun.
INT. FROST’S PENTHOUSE, POOL - NIGHT
Suffused lighting, elegant tile-work featuring evocative mosaics, the
quiet strains of CLASSICAL MUSIC --
MERCURY,
the lupine Gaultier girl from the club, glides beneath the water,
surfacing at the deep end. We SEE --
FROST
lounging in a chair, studying a laptop which rests beside him. On the
screen is a digitized image -- a page taken from an ancient
manuscript, written in a secret tongue.
Officer Gideon waits nearby, cradling his ruined hand, his battered
face cast downward like a boy who’s been called into the Principal’s
office.
GIDEON
Look, I know you’re disappointed --
FROST
Crestfallen.
GIDEON
Blade was waiting for me. There wasn’t
anything I could do.
Frost nods, lapsing into brooding contemplation.
FROST
Tell me something, Gideon, what blood
type are you?
Gideon hesitates. Is this a trick question?
GIDEON
I don’t really know --
FROST
Take a wild stab. A? B? O, perhaps?
I’m interested in the antigens here,
the agglutination reaction --
Gideon stammers as Frost rises. In the blink of an eye, Frost lifts
Gideon from the floor, dangling the Officer over the deep end of the
pool by his throat --
FROST
I’m going to guess AB positive.
Gideon GURGLES as Frost’s fingernails pierce his flesh, drawing
blood. Then Frost releases him --
Gideon plunges into the pool. Mercury is on him in a heartbeat,
tearing him apart like a Great White consuming a piece of chum. The
water churns violently around them, clouding with red.
When it’s over, Mercury rises from the pool, dripping wet, covered
from head to toe in a crimson sheen.
She kisses Frost hungrily, letting Gideon’s blood flow from her mouth
to his. Frost flicks a tongue over his lips.
FROST
AB positive. Give the man a prize.
Below them, Gideon’s lifeless body sinks towards the pool bottom, his
police badge twinkling like sunken treasure.
CUT TO:
EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT
Blade’s Olds cruises to a stop. We’re in a low-end commercial
district -- junky heaven. Blade climbs out, pulling an automatic
rifle from the back seat, then heading into an alleyway.
EXT. BACK ALLEY - NIGHT
Blade makes his way down the alley, cautious -- he SEES mountains of
trash, boarded-up windows, overlapping layers of gang graffiti -- a
RAT crouching on a trash dumpster, gnawing on a dead pigeon --
-- then a SOUND behind Blade, the scuffle of feet --
Blade whirls, drawing his sword, CHARGING at an approaching shadow,
stopping mere millimeters from decapitating --
KAREN,
who’s been backed up against the wall, her eyes wide with fright.
Blade’s sword vibrates from the tension in his forearm, having drawn
just the slightest taste of blood.
BLADE
What the hell are you doing?! I could
have killed you!
Blade lowers his sword. Karen remembers to breathe. She slumps,
tracing her fingers over the line where her head almost parted with
her body.
KAREN
I remembered the address. I followed
you --
Blade shakes his head, amazed.
BLADE
Do you have a death wish or are you
just stupid?
Karen pushes away from the wall, angry --
KAREN
Look, if what you say is true, if
there’s a chance I could turn into one
of them, then I’ve got no choice, do
I? I have to work with you. I need to
learn everything I can about them.
It’s the only way I’ll be able to find
a cure for myself.
BLADE
There is no cure.
KAREN
(defiant)
You don’t know that.
Blade turns and moves to the end of the alley, studying the graffiticovered
wall intently --
KAREN
What are you looking at?
BLADE
(gesturing)
What do you see here?
KAREN
Graffiti --
BLADE
Look closer.
Blade indicates a design amongst the various gang-banger tags that
looks something like a post-modern hieroglyphic.
BLADE
This isn’t a gang tag, it’s a vampire
marking. It means there’s a safe-house
nearby.
A place they can go if dawn is coming.
Blade points to a building across the street --
THE HOLLISTON CLINIC,
your basic inner-city blood-barter establishment where desperate
transients parley their plasma into cash.
KAREN
(recognizing it)
I know this place -- it’s a blood
bank.
BLADE
Owned by vampires. There’s one of
these in every major city, and just
like Domino’s, they always deliver.
(looking to Karen)
You telling me you’re ready to walk
through that door?
Karen nods. Blade continues to stare at her, taking her measure --
there’s a strength in this woman’s eyes, she has the soul of a
fighter -- and Blade recognizes it.
BLADE
All right, then, listen up, Vampire
Anatomy 101. Crosses and running water
don’t do dick, so forget what you’ve
seen in the movies.
Blade enumerates the following on his fingers:
BLADE
You use the stake, silver, or
sunlight, got it?
Blade holds up one of his Casulls.
BLADE
Know how to use one of these?
Karen takes the weapon from him, eyes all over it.
KAREN
No.
Blade takes the gun back, snorting derisively.
BLADE
Safety’s off, round’s already
chambered --
(cocking it)
Silver hollow-points filled with
garlic. You aim for the heart or the
head, anything else is a one-way
ticket to a pine box.
Blade hand it to her again, then starts across the street towards the
clinic. Karen follows --
INT. HOLLISTON CLINIC, LOBBY - NIGHT
Blade enters, swinging his rifle around for all to see.
BLADE
Get out. Now.
The POTENTIAL DONORS scramble for the exit. Behind the counter,
TANAKA, a male nurse, reaches for an alarm button. Blade vaults over
the counter, aiming his rifle.
BLADE
I know you’re blood-running. Who’s
your sponsor?
TANAKA
I don’t know what you’re --
POW! Blade backhands him across the face hard enough to loosen his
teeth. Karen flinches, stepping forward --
KAREN
What if you’ve made a mistake?
Blade pins Tanaka’s head to the wall, turning it to the side --
revealing the man’s glyph. It’s different than Gideon’s, looking more
like a Japanese kanji character.
BLADE
What’s this? A birthmark?
Blade grips Tanaka by his collar, shoving him through a doorway --
INT. HOLLISTON CLINIC, SUPPLY ROOM - NIGHT
Karen and Blade SEE supply cabinets, cots, a number of locked
refrigeration units. Blade FIRES into the door handle of one of the
units, tears it open -- the fridge is stacked floor to ceiling with
plastic packets of blood.
BLADE
(to Karen)
Still think we might be wrong?
(to Tanaka)
How much are you shipping?
TANAKA
Bite me!
Blade opens FIRE, sweeping his rifle around the room, shooting
everything in sight. Glass cabinetry shatters, ampoules and
vacutainers go flying. Tanaka cowers, arms wrapped about his head.
Blade stops shooting. He leans down towards Tanaka, placing the end
of his rifle against the man’s forehead. Tanaka looks like he’s about
to wet his pants.
BLADE
I’ve got a message for your masters --
the night’s no longer safe for their
kind.
Blade pulls back his rifle, leaving a red indentation mark where the
end of the rifle barrel pressed into Tanaka’s skin. He starts towards
the exit. Karen follows.
CUT TO:
INT. BLADE’S OLDS - NIGHT
Blade and Karen return to the Olds. He keys the ignition, lets the
engine idle. They’re parked down the street from the blood clinic.
Karen looks to Blade, confused --
KAREN
You let him go --
(off Blade’s nod)
An hour ago you were ready to kill a
man for less, this one didn’t even
talk.
BLADE
He will.
Blade points --
THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD --
Tanaka rushes from the clinic, climbing behind the wheel of a Mustang
parked nearby. He takes off --
Blade follows the Mustang, CLICKING on a cell-phone scanner mounted
on the dash. Numbers flash on the LCD screen as it searches for a
signal, then locks onto it. We hear a DIAL TONE, then a number being
dialed --
AUTOMATED VOICE
(filtered, on scanner)
"You’ve reached a number that is no
longer in service. Please consult your
operator and try again".
TANAKA’S VOICE
(filtered, on scanner)
It’s Tanaka, PIN number
sixteen-zero-zero-nine --
A "real" voice comes on the line:
VOICE
(filtered, on scanner)
Yes?
Karen looks to Blade, impressed.
INT. TANAKA’S MUSTANG - NIGHT
Tanaka speeds, shouting into the speaker phone --
TANAKA
Get me Pearl!
VOICE
(filtered, on speaker)
Pearl is feeding --
TANAKA
Look, I’m not fucking around here!
That hunter Frost has been talking
about? He was just at the clinic. Tore
the goddamn place apart!
EXT. THE BLACK PEARL - NIGHT
Tokyo town. A black edifice, no windows, secured parking, no signage
except for a purple neon scroll above the entrance -- a FLASHING
KANJI, just like the glyph tattooed on Tanaka’s neck.
Tanaka’s Mustang pulls into the parking lot. He climbs out, flagging
away the valets, heads inside --
WHIP PAN TO
Blade’s Olds stopping a few blocks down the street.
INT. BLADE’S OLDS - NIGHT
Blade kills the engine, studying The Black Pearl.
BLADE
Looks like we hit pay-dirt. This place
is crawling with them.
(pointing)
See the valets over there? They’re
vampires. So is the doorman.
KAREN
How can you tell?
BLADE
The way they move, they way they
smell --
Blade continues to scan the area, pointing out a few more likely
candidates --
BLADE
The whore on the corner, she’s one
too. So are the two men standing under
the streetlight.
Blade reaches into the back seat, retrieves his sword and a satchel.
He snaps open his shotgun, loads it. Karen continues to study the
vampires Blade identified.
KAREN
So many of them -- I still can’t
believe they’re real.
BLADE
There are worse things than vampires
out there.
KAREN
Like what?
BLADE
(pumping his shotgun)
Like me.
Blade reaches for the door --
EXT. THE BLACK PEARL - NIGHT
Blade and Karen climb out. He lets his shotgun fall within the folds
of his longcoat and starts across the street -- only to be challenged
by a HULKING DOORMAN at the entrance.
DOORMAN
I’m sorry, sir -- do you have an
invitation?
INT. BLACK PEARL - NIGHT
CRASH! The front door flies open as the Doorman’s body sails through.
Blade enters, Karen at his heels --
The ’Pearl’ is an all-hours strip club cum casino catering
exclusively to Japanese zaibatsu clientele. Dimly lit, the air thick
with cigarette smoke, deafening MUSIC. Go boards, pachinko machines,
sexy little MANGA WAIFS in schoolgirl outfits doling out drinks --
STRIPPERS writhe in the circular "pit" tables surrounded by HOWLING
grab-ass men. But that’s nothing compared to --
The MAIN ATTRACTION,
who’s doing a bump and grind down the runway, shaking a body worthy
of a schoolboy’s wet dream. Her attire? A leather S&M face mask,
nipple rings, 6-inch spikes, and a pair of panties to hide her
modesty.
Blade scans the room -- just in time to see Tanaka ducking into a
back hallway. Blade pushes towards the rear of the club. Karen
follows.
ON THE STRIPPER
as she catches sight of Blade and freezes in mid-routine. The
stripper pulls off her hood. Long black hair with a streak of white
tumbles down her back -- it’s Mercury.
INT. BLACK PEARL, HALLWAY - NIGHT
Blade and Karen head past the bathrooms. At the end of the hall is a
door marked "OFFICE". Just then, the Men’s door opens, a DRUNK
COLLEGE KID steps out, SEES Blade --
KID
Hey --
Blade plants a hand over the kid’s face, shoving him back into the
bathroom as he kicks open the office door --
INT. THE BLACK PEARL, BACK OFFICE - NIGHT
Tanaka spins around, startled, tries to throw a punch --
Blade traps Tanaka’s arm, levering the man up and over. He CRASHES
into a shelving unit, taking the whole thing down with him. Karen
winces. Blade grabs a handful of Tanaka’s hair, yanks his head up --
BLADE
Where’s the entrance?!
TANAKA
I can’t -- they’ll kill me!
Blade rips off his glasses and gives Tanaka an eyeful -- his irises
pulse and glow.
BLADE
I got news for you, butt-boy. You’re
already dead.
TANAKA
(terrified)
Oh God, shit -- behind the bookcase --
Blade drops Tanaka, moves to the bookcase. He searches the wall a
moment, then finds a trigger. Hits it -- the bookcase slides aside,
revealing a hidden elevator. As Blade moves to put his sunglasses
back on --
BLADE’S POV (IN THE REFLECTION OF HIS SUNGLASSES)
We see Tanaka behind him, pulling a handgun out of a desk drawer,
swinging it up --
Blade unholsters one of his Casulls faster than any gunslinger in
history. He FIRES over his own shoulder, BLOWING Tanaka back against
the wall.
Blade puts his sunglasses back on, motions to the elevator, then nods
to Karen --
BLADE
After you.
INT. THE BLACK PEARL, ELEVATOR - NIGHT
The elevator descends. Then a tone CHIMES, signaling the end of the
ride. The doors hiss open --
INT. THE VAMPIRE ARCHIVES, HALLWAY - NIGHT
Blade and Karen enter the narrow, maze-like "stacks" of the vampire
archives, weaving their way through shelves of climate-controlled,
digitized records.
KAREN
What is this place?
BLADE
Some kind of archive --
KAREN
Isn’t this all a little high-tech? I
thought vampires were more into
cobwebs and coffins.
BLADE
You’ve been watching too much TV.
They’ve got their claws sunk into
everything -- finance, real estate,
politics. Probably own half of
Downtown.
Blade pulls a CD-ROM from the shelves, its spine labeled in
indecipherable vampire glyphs.
BLADE
This must be where they keep their
records --
He pauses, hearing a DISTANT WHISPER. Blade signals quiet, silently
leading Karen through the stacks towards --
PEARL’S LAIR
A vestibule of sorts, leading to a larger bed chamber constructed of
rice paper shoji screens and tatami mats. Candles glow within,
illuminating a MONSTROUSLY OBESE SHADOW beyond the translucent rice
paper walls.
The shadow speaks in a tremulous, bird-like voice -- the secret
tongue. As Blade draws his sword, the massive shadow freezes --
PEARL’S VOICE
(frightened)
Lorca, is that you?
Blade slides open the nearest shoji screen --
INT. PEARL’S BED CHAMBER - NIGHT
Nothing Karen’s seen up until this point could prepare her for the
archive’s curator --
PEARL,
a nine-hundred-pound androgynous vampire of Asian origin, lounging
amidst pillowed rice mats, wearing a communications headset. Think of
a cross between Divine and Jabba The Hutt. Skin the complexion of
buttermilk, so corpulent he can barely move, so engorged with blood
that he’s actually sweating it from the pores of his skin.
Pearl is surrounded by a nest of monitors and keyboards which have
been affixed to counter-balanced arms -- this way, Pearl can access
information without leaving bed.
Lying next to Pearl, dwarfed by the vampire’s massive size, is the
chalk-white body of a recently-drained NAKED BOY.
At the sight of Blade, Pearl’s eyes widen in fear --
PEARL
(into a speakerphone)
He’s here!
FROST’S VOICE
(over speakerphone)
Congratulations, Day-Walker.
BLADE
Frost?
INT. FROST’S PENTHOUSE, POOL - NIGHT
Frost paces the length of his pool, wearing a hands-free
communications headset, grinning.
FROST
In the flesh, Blade. I understand
you’ve been looking for me. I’m
flattered.
INT. PEARL’S BEDCHAMBER - NIGHT
As Blade listens, Pearl reaches for his trackball, attempting to
delete the document currently on his monitors -- but Blade lunges
forward, sinking the tip of his sword into Pearl’s fleshy throat.
Pearl freezes.
BLADE
(eyeballing Pearl)
Don’t be. You’re another notch on my
sword hilt, nothing else.
Frost’s DEEP LAUGHTER drifts from the speakerphone.
INT. FROST’S PENTHOUSE, POOL - NIGHT
Frost settles into his chair, enjoying the cat and mouse.
FROST
You’re quick, Blade, I’ll give you
that. In the space of an hour you’ve
crossed my familiar, destroyed a blood
bank --
(beat)
Now here you are in the heart of our
archives, terrorizing our curator.
PEARL’S VOICE
He has a knife to my throat, Frost!
He --
FROST
(cutting him off)
You’re history, Pearl. Have the good
grace to die with some dignity.
(beat)
Round one to you, Blade.
INT. PEARL’S BEDCHAMBER - NIGHT
CLICK, the line goes dead. Blade tosses his satchel on the bed, opens
it. Inside is a hand-held UV lamp hooked up to a nine-volt battery.
Pearl eyes the device, fearful --
PEARL
What is that?
BLADE
A sun lamp. We’re gonna play twenty
questions. Depending on your answers,
you might get to have yourself a
tanning session.
Blade looks to Pearl’s monitor and SEES a digitized image, the SAME
MANUSCRIPT Deacon had been studying earlier.
BLADE
What were you in such a big hurry to
delete just now?
Pearl hesitates. Blade turns on the lamp. Pearl HOWLS as the harsh
light falls upon him. Blade flicks the light off.
Pearl cringes, GROWLING, his face smoking profusely. Exposure to the
UV rays, even for one short second, has made his face blister like a
plague victim’s.
PEARL
(relenting)
It’s an epistle, a letter Frost has
been translating -- it prophesizes
LaMagra’s return.
BLADE
And who is LaMagra?
Pearl hesitates again -- Blade turns on the lamp for a longer time.
Pearl thrashes, covering his face. His hands blacken, the skin
sizzling away to expose the finger bones beneath. Karen has to avert
her gaze --
Blade turns off the lamp. Pearl SNARLS, his body quivering with
poisonous rage.
PEARL
LaMagra is The Sleeper!!!
Blade leans in close so he’s eye to eye with Pearl.
BLADE
Where’s the original, Pearl? You must
have it around here somewhere.
Pearl sweats blood, his flaking, slug-like lips quivering.
PEARL
The vault --
Blade follows Pearl’s eyes to an armored door, then he stands back,
handing the UV rig to Karen.
BLADE
If he moves, cook him.
Blade approaches the vault door, sizing up its locking mechanism. He
pulls an explosive charge from his combat belt and secures it to the
door, arming it with a BEEP!
PEARL
Please, I’ll give you the combination
-- you’ll damage the documents --
BLADE
That’s the point.
Enraged, Pearl LUNGES from his bed. Karen triggers the UV rig, flashfrying
him to a blackened crisp. Pearl quivers, his enormous body
smoking like a piece of charred meat.
Blade looks back at Karen with newfound respect. She shrugs.
KAREN
He moved.
Blade turns back to the vault, setting off the charge. BOOM! Blade
kicks the damaged door in, knocking it clear off its hinges --
INSIDE THE VAULT,
ancient papers flutter through the smoky air like wind-borne leaves.
Blade and Karen SEE a lucite-encased document -- fragments of an
ancient, calligraphied papyrus.
KAREN
What are these?
QUINN (o.s.)
Curiosity killed the cat.
Blade and Karen spin --
-- QUINN,
Mercury, and a number of other vampires stand at the entrance to the
vault.
QUINN
(grins)
Hola, amigo. Remember me?
Karen triggers the UV light, but Mercury ducks under it, ripping it
from her hands, crushing it. In a split-second, the she-demon has her
claws around Karen’s throat.
As Blade reaches for his rifle, the vampires converge on him like
quicksilver. They drag Karen and Blade out --
PEARL’S BEDCHAMBER
The vampires fling Blade against the wall, pinning him.
QUINN
You took my arm, Blade. But that’s
okay, I’m growing a new one --
Quinn lifts up his "arm". A skeletal forearm has grown from the
stump. It’s got cartilage, sinew, and muscle, but no flesh yet.
QUINN
Nice, huh? Think I’ll ever play the
piano again?
(shrugging)
You can slice him, you can dice him,
and the man just keeps on coming.
Blade struggles violently, but Quinn is upon him, pounding his fist
into Blade again and again and again -- giving him payback with
compounded interest. When it’s over, Quinn steps back, winded --
Blade’s head hangs down. He gasps, wincing, every breath sending a
red hot poker to his gut. Quinn grabs a hold of Blade’s jaw, forcing
his head up.
QUINN
Stay with me, sweetness, I’m not
through with you yet.
Quinn pulls Blade’s jacket open, sees the bandoleer of mahogany
stakes. He tugs one out, admiring it.
QUINN
Teak. Nice craftsmanship.
(to the others)
Now here’s a man who takes his job
just a little too seriously, don’t you
think?
(back to Blade)
Which reminds me, Blade, think I owe
you one --
Quinn stabs the stake into Blade’s shoulder. Blade CRIES OUT, tries
to pull free. Karen, who’s being held by Mercury, averts her gaze.
QUINN
Actually, if you want to get
technical, I owe you two.
As Quinn reaches for another stake, Blade starts to laugh.
QUINN
What’s so funny, bright eyes?
BLADE
I’m expecting some company.
It’s then that Quinn notices the micro ear-coil radio receiver in
Blade’s ear. As we MOVE IN on it, we hear a tiny VOICE squawking from
it:
VOICE
(filtered)
Get down!
Blade kicks his feet out, sending Quinn flying backwards. He tears
free of the vamps holding him and DIVES forward, knocking Karen to
the ground just as --
BOOM!!! The wall of Pearl’s bedchamber EXPLODES INWARD, knocking
Quinn and the rest of his cronies to their feet.
WHISTLER
stands in the smoking hole where the wall used to be, brandishing his
cane in one hand and an automatic rifle in the other. He balances the
rifle against his hip like an over-the-hill gunslinger and OPENS FIRE
on the vampires.
Blade rolls, snatching up a fragment of the parchment which has blown
free from the vault. Seconds later, he and Karen are fleeing after
Whistler, retreating back through his newly created exit.
INT. TUNNEL - NIGHT
The three of them find themselves ankle-deep in a flooded sewer
tunnel running parallel to the archives. Whistler pauses, wheezing
from overexertion.
WHISTLER
Christ, I’m too old for this. Somebody
get me a goddamn wheelchair.
Blade leans against the tunnel wall, GRUNTING as he yanks the stake
from his shoulder. He then pulls out a light-stick, snapping it,
illuminating the area in a GREEN GLOW -- disturbing waves of
GLITTERING COCKROACHES.
Meanwhile, Whistler pulls another explosive device from his backpack
and sets it against the tunnel wall, arming it.
KAREN
How did you find us?!
Whistler taps a tiny radio headset curled around his ear.
WHISTLER
We keep in radio contact.
KAREN
(incredulous)
You’ve been listening in the whole
time?
WHISTLER
You think I’d let him run loose
without a chaperone? Blade ferrets
their rat-holes out, I map them. Then
we blow them all to kingdom come.
Whistler finishes arming the explosive device. It BEEPS. He turns
back to Blade and Karen, referring to a handheld navigation device.
WHISTLER
There’s a subway line due East of
here. We’d best make tracks.
INT. PEARL’S BEDCHAMBER, ARCHIVES - NIGHT
An EXPLOSION rips through the bedchamber, mushrooming outward --
INT. BLACK PEARL - NIGHT
The EXPLOSION continues expanding, sending tables, drinks, and
zaibatsu clientele flying.
INT. TUNNEL - NIGHT
As the group splashes through the water, a FIREBALL chases them down
the tunnel. They duck into an alcove, narrowly avoiding the flames.
Whistler WHOOPS with excitement, loving every minute of it. But his
triumph is short-lived, for now we hear --
-- a deafening chorus of HIGH-PITCHED VAMPIRE WAR CRIES coming from
behind. Karen hazards a look back --
THE VAMPIRES
surge down the tunnel like a pack of hungry wolves on high-octane.
There must be a dozen of them now and Quinn is right in the lead.
Our trio hustles along, but Whistler stumbles, tumbling and sliding
down a washout. The steep incline of the washout makes it virtually
impossible for Whistler to climb back up to the main tunnel.
KAREN
Whistler!
WHISTLER
Go on, I’ll be fine!
Karen hesitates, but Blade yanks her down the tunnel --
BLADE
He can take care of himself! GO!!!
They race through the twisting warren of tunnels, taking one turn
after another, the vampires hot on their heels --
INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL - NIGHT
Blade and Karen stumble out into a larger subway tunnel, which widens
into a station stop up ahead. We can see the RED TAIL-LIGHTS of a
train just pulling away from the platform -- Blade and Karen redouble
their efforts, lungs burning, legs pumping like mad. Just as
the train enters the next tunnel --
-- they leap, dragging themselves up onto the back of the rearpassenger
car. Blade SMASHES his fist through the emergency exit
window, then lifts Karen up, helping her climb through into the
car --
-- but the vampires are still coming! Crawling along the tunnel walls
on all fours, limbs a blur, claws striking the concrete and spewing
out sparks. Closing fast. Too fast.
QUINN
springs forward, snagging Blade’s ankle with his "good" hand. The
vampire’s weight threatens to haul Blade down. Blade reaches to his
back-scabbard, unsheathes his sword --
THUNK! Blade brings the sword down on Quinn’s good arm, cutting it