EXT: DARK ALLEY. NIGHT
Smoke wafts everywhere for no apparent reason. A CAT HOWLS. In the distance there are SIRENS blaring. Standing in the haze, obscured by chiaroscuro lighting is THE FEMME FATALE.
She is in a lace lined dress with a large, stylish hat and with eyes that glow out of the gloom. She looks down the alley where a figure is walking towards her.
Through the mist comes a man in a trench coat and awesome silhouette fedora, he is HARDBOILED DETECTIVE.
FEMME FATALE:
Hello hello there you.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
I don't do hellos as they clash with my mystique as a possible anti-hero.
FEMME FATALE:
That's alright. I'm mostly here to just hire you into a job you don't want but you'll take because I'm beautiful, you're broke and you really want to show up your old boss ANGRY POLICE CHIEF.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
(while taking swig from bottle of scotch)
Oh how I do hate Angry Police Chief. Always firing me for being such a renegade, solving crimes while playing by my own rules. Granted my lax adherence to the law meant almost all the criminals I caught were never prosecuted but....still, he chaffed my hide.
FEMME FATALE:
Yeah, you do know I'm required to fall in love with you since women love bad boys. Which I'll do but you'll always question my loyalties.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
(while cleaning his Colt 45 revolver)
I ain't got time for love sweetheart. I barely have time to figure out if I'm just an anti-hero or also a protagonist villain.
FEMME FATALE:
Oh, you ain't that. We only have one real villain in this story and he is totally chaotic evil. So don't expect a lot of Xantos Gambits. This will all be pretty straightforward double crosses.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
(while filling out a gambling form)
I don't like double crosses but I prefer them to triple crosses which just get confusing especially when they end up in those damned mexican standoffs.
FEMME FATALE:
So you want the job that you have to take to move the plot forward?
He shoots her a concerning look.
CUT TO:
INT: ALMOST EMPTY BAR. NIGHT OR DAY. IT DOESN'T MATTER.
A man stands just inside the entrance stealing glances at his watch. He is dressed rather sensibly compared to every other character. He is THE WATSON. The door opens and he is relieved to see that it is just Hardboiled Detective.
THE WATSON:
Oh, well there you finally are! You are always so late to arrive anywhere you say have to be—
(pauses, sniffs)
Have you been drinking scotch again?
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
The dame had a case alright. She seemed almost like a case herself. But I can't be picky. Not with the way my jobs have withered up lately like that fern I never watered. It was a tough case alright. But I was a guy toughened by the streets which made me the perfect Private Eye for the job.
THE WATSON:
(waits a beat, blinks)
What?
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Oh, sorry. Sometimes I give my private eye monologue out loud instead of in voice over.
THE WATSON:
Once again I am skeptical of your supposed sanity and should probably take my preeminent competence and just be my own boss but as I am not the romantic lead I guess I will continue to just assist you.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Hey, as the plucky sidekick you at least get plot armor. I might actually get shot and die if this is the darker, edgier version of the script.
THE WATSON:
Actually plucky sidekicks often do die when the screenwriter goes for a darker, edgier version. Which just shows that you, once again, don't know what you are talking about. Why are you even the romantic lead? I could be the lead.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Sorry bud. You don't have my strong jawline and ability to look cool while smoking.
THE WATSON:
Damn it.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Can it. We got to question someone.
They walk over to the bar where a man washes down the counter continously. He is TOO TALKATIVE BARTENDER.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Hello there. We need to find a man who was sort of tall, wearing some sort of coat and talking to a woman who had hair and maybe wore clothes with colors on them.
TOO TALKATIVE BARTENDER:
(considers for a second)
Oh yeah. They's was in here Saturday night. Really interesting and notable folks they were with them's wearing clothes and speaking to each other and all.
THE WATSON:
But were they plotting a double cross?
TOO TALKATIVE BARTENDER:
(still wiping down the counter)
Yeah, lots of talk about double crossing. How'd you know they were in this bar?
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Like all good villains they helpfully left a matchbook for this bar at the grisly scene of the MacGuffin Crime we are ostensibly investigating.
TOO TALKATIVE BARTENDER:
(still wiping down the counter)
That's so weird because we've never had any matchbooks for this bar made but they keep turning up at the scenes of happenings and doings leading you cynical jerk's-with-hearts-of-gold type detectives here.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Yeah, the matchbooks just get made at the criminal guild and handed out so they can be lost. Wait......jerk with a heart of gold? Crap...that means I have to save an orphan at some point.
THE WATSON:
But if the orphan is the secret child of the Femme Fatale who got rid of it so the chaotic evil big bad wouldn't hurt it then that would help us get to the inevitable True Love Conquers All ending.
TOO TALKATIVE BARTENDER:
(yes, still wiping down the counter)
Yeah, and the orphan might be mentally disabled and thus the awards bait role for the movie.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
(strokes his strong and defined jawline)
Hmmm, saving the awards bait mentally disabled orphan role is a definite pet the dog moment that probably would help me dump all the jerk aspects and achieve full on Knight In Sour Armor status.
THE WATSON:
Awesome. At that point do I become an ascended extra and actually get the girl in the next plot?
They all LAUGH.
Smoke wafts everywhere for no apparent reason. A CAT HOWLS. In the distance there are SIRENS blaring. Standing in the haze, obscured by chiaroscuro lighting is THE FEMME FATALE.
She is in a lace lined dress with a large, stylish hat and with eyes that glow out of the gloom. She looks down the alley where a figure is walking towards her.
Through the mist comes a man in a trench coat and awesome silhouette fedora, he is HARDBOILED DETECTIVE.
FEMME FATALE:
Hello hello there you.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
I don't do hellos as they clash with my mystique as a possible anti-hero.
FEMME FATALE:
That's alright. I'm mostly here to just hire you into a job you don't want but you'll take because I'm beautiful, you're broke and you really want to show up your old boss ANGRY POLICE CHIEF.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
(while taking swig from bottle of scotch)
Oh how I do hate Angry Police Chief. Always firing me for being such a renegade, solving crimes while playing by my own rules. Granted my lax adherence to the law meant almost all the criminals I caught were never prosecuted but....still, he chaffed my hide.
FEMME FATALE:
Yeah, you do know I'm required to fall in love with you since women love bad boys. Which I'll do but you'll always question my loyalties.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
(while cleaning his Colt 45 revolver)
I ain't got time for love sweetheart. I barely have time to figure out if I'm just an anti-hero or also a protagonist villain.
FEMME FATALE:
Oh, you ain't that. We only have one real villain in this story and he is totally chaotic evil. So don't expect a lot of Xantos Gambits. This will all be pretty straightforward double crosses.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
(while filling out a gambling form)
I don't like double crosses but I prefer them to triple crosses which just get confusing especially when they end up in those damned mexican standoffs.
FEMME FATALE:
So you want the job that you have to take to move the plot forward?
He shoots her a concerning look.
CUT TO:
INT: ALMOST EMPTY BAR. NIGHT OR DAY. IT DOESN'T MATTER.
A man stands just inside the entrance stealing glances at his watch. He is dressed rather sensibly compared to every other character. He is THE WATSON. The door opens and he is relieved to see that it is just Hardboiled Detective.
THE WATSON:
Oh, well there you finally are! You are always so late to arrive anywhere you say have to be—
(pauses, sniffs)
Have you been drinking scotch again?
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
The dame had a case alright. She seemed almost like a case herself. But I can't be picky. Not with the way my jobs have withered up lately like that fern I never watered. It was a tough case alright. But I was a guy toughened by the streets which made me the perfect Private Eye for the job.
THE WATSON:
(waits a beat, blinks)
What?
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Oh, sorry. Sometimes I give my private eye monologue out loud instead of in voice over.
THE WATSON:
Once again I am skeptical of your supposed sanity and should probably take my preeminent competence and just be my own boss but as I am not the romantic lead I guess I will continue to just assist you.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Hey, as the plucky sidekick you at least get plot armor. I might actually get shot and die if this is the darker, edgier version of the script.
THE WATSON:
Actually plucky sidekicks often do die when the screenwriter goes for a darker, edgier version. Which just shows that you, once again, don't know what you are talking about. Why are you even the romantic lead? I could be the lead.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Sorry bud. You don't have my strong jawline and ability to look cool while smoking.
THE WATSON:
Damn it.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Can it. We got to question someone.
They walk over to the bar where a man washes down the counter continously. He is TOO TALKATIVE BARTENDER.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Hello there. We need to find a man who was sort of tall, wearing some sort of coat and talking to a woman who had hair and maybe wore clothes with colors on them.
TOO TALKATIVE BARTENDER:
(considers for a second)
Oh yeah. They's was in here Saturday night. Really interesting and notable folks they were with them's wearing clothes and speaking to each other and all.
THE WATSON:
But were they plotting a double cross?
TOO TALKATIVE BARTENDER:
(still wiping down the counter)
Yeah, lots of talk about double crossing. How'd you know they were in this bar?
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Like all good villains they helpfully left a matchbook for this bar at the grisly scene of the MacGuffin Crime we are ostensibly investigating.
TOO TALKATIVE BARTENDER:
(still wiping down the counter)
That's so weird because we've never had any matchbooks for this bar made but they keep turning up at the scenes of happenings and doings leading you cynical jerk's-with-hearts-of-gold type detectives here.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
Yeah, the matchbooks just get made at the criminal guild and handed out so they can be lost. Wait......jerk with a heart of gold? Crap...that means I have to save an orphan at some point.
THE WATSON:
But if the orphan is the secret child of the Femme Fatale who got rid of it so the chaotic evil big bad wouldn't hurt it then that would help us get to the inevitable True Love Conquers All ending.
TOO TALKATIVE BARTENDER:
(yes, still wiping down the counter)
Yeah, and the orphan might be mentally disabled and thus the awards bait role for the movie.
HARDBOILED DETECTIVE:
(strokes his strong and defined jawline)
Hmmm, saving the awards bait mentally disabled orphan role is a definite pet the dog moment that probably would help me dump all the jerk aspects and achieve full on Knight In Sour Armor status.
THE WATSON:
Awesome. At that point do I become an ascended extra and actually get the girl in the next plot?
They all LAUGH.
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