by: Anson Fehross | September 3, 2002
Note: If you are new to the screenplay, or would simply like a memory refresher, be
sure to check out the archive.
The Assassin slowly raises the berretta, inches away from Lobo's head. The silencer barely brushes against a strand of Lobo's hair...
Lobo ducks instantly, just as the Assassin FIRES. Lobo flings his chair at the Assassin's hands, knocking his aim off.
Lobo leaps upon the Assassin, wrenching the gun from his hands. Lobo and the Assassin fall to the floor.
Lobo pins him, his left hand clamped around the Assassin's throat, while reaching for the berretta. He grips it and raises it to the Assassin's face.
He FIRES. The Assassin dies.
Lobo raises up from the floor, his hand bleeding once again.
The PHONE rings. Lobo walks over and picks it up.
Lobo SLAMS the phone down.
INT. THE AGENCY- AFTERNOON
The Agent stands, phone in hand.
...He hung up...
He hung up on me. Tony never does that.
The truth dawns on him.
Why the hell did you ring there so soon?!
I don't know! It seemed-
Shut the FUCK up! Things are going straight to the goddamn doghouse.
So now Lobo knows our plans for him.
He slams his fist down on the desk.
Send out more scratchers.
Yes! Send them out. Lobo must be neutralized NOW. Send out a goddamn SWAT team, I don't care.
But the PR...
Just DO IT!
What do we do about 47?
I don't care about 47 at this exact moment.
He takes out a cigar and LIGHTS it with a Zippo lighter.
Isn't 47 our top priority? I mean, Lobo wasn't created to be sentient.
Wake up, agent! Lobo is sentient. He's broken protocol several times.
I meant, sir, that Lobo was not created to... revenge, if that's what you call it.