KR2010 Script Act 7

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0 height="100%"><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#000000" TEXT="#F7F7FF"> <div> <B><IMG SRC="4e27e3d0.jpg" border=0 width="126" height="61" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <div> <A HREF="id60.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Knight Rider 2010 Synopsis/Promotional P"><U><B>SYNOPSIS/PROMOS</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id61.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Knight Rider 2010 Frequently Asked Quest"><U><B>FAQ</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id66.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="KR2010 Where are they now?"><U><B>WHERE ARE THEY NOW?</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id62.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="KR2010 Script Act One"><U><B>KR2010 SCRIPT ACT 1</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id63.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Knight Rider 2010 Act Two"><U><B>KR2010 SCRIPT ACT 2</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id64.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Knight Rider 2010 Script Act Three"><U><B>KR2010 SCRIPT ACT 3</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id82.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="KR2010 Script Act 4"><U><B>KR2010 SCRIPT ACT 4</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id83.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="KR 2010 Script Act 5"><U><B>KR2010 SCRIPT ACT 5</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id84.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="KR2010 Script Act 6"><U><B>KR2010 SCRIPT ACT 6</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id85.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="KR2010 Script Act 7"><U><B>KR2010 SCRIPT ACT 7</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id65.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Knight Rider 2010 Gallery"><U><B>KR2010 GALLERY</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id2.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Knight Rider Cast"><U><B><IMG SRC="047644b0.jpg" border=0 width="100" height="75" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id2.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Knight Rider Cast"><U><B>KNIGHT RIDER</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id47.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Knight Rider 2000 Cast"><U><B><IMG SRC="049644b0.jpg" border=0 width="100" height="75" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id47.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Knight Rider 2000 Cast"><U><B>KNIGHT RIDER 2000</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id67.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Team Knight Rider Cast"><U><B><IMG SRC="04d66370.jpg" border=0 width="102" height="55" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id67.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Team Knight Rider Cast"><U><B>TEAM KNIGHT RIDER</B></U></A></div> </td> <td valign="top" BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> KNIGHT RIDER 2010</div> <div> <B>ACT SEVEN</B></div> <bR> <div> FADE IN:</div> <bR> <div> EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET - DAY - CONTINUOUS</div> <bR> <div> The Moving Van maneuvers through early morning traffic.</div> <bR> <div> INT. K.D. DAY</div> <bR> <div> inside the moving van. Her display screen and dashboard light system pulsate at near-hysteric intensity as she furiously attempts to regain control of her on-board systems. She's like a nuclear reactor on the very brink of meltdown.</div> <bR> <div> INT. WAREHOUSE - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Ilya's limo pulls in and he gets out. The warehouse is being newly stocked with stenciled boxes of cigarettes, stacked like children's building blocks by forklifts. Ilya crosses over to an impatiently waiting Sergei.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ILYA</div> <div> Your car is on the way.</div> <div> (mock TV Announcer's Voice)</div> <div> And it can be yours - if you can answer the next question. Do you love me or what?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> SERGEI</div> <div> (beams)</div> <div> You can take the boy out of the country, but not the country out of the boy. Good work. And Brady?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ILYA</div> <div> He went down like the Berlin Wall.</div> <bR> <div> As they share a look of triumph -</div> <bR> <div> EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln picks himself off the road, bruised and battered. He throws a look down the street in the direction in which K.D. disappeared. He shakes his head, then walks back, limping slightly, toward -</div> <bR> <div> BRADY'S CAR</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln stands over Brady's lifeless body, bloodily sprawled in the overturned wheelchair. Suddenly -</div> <bR> <div> BRADY</div> <bR> <div> cracks an eye -</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> BRADY</div> <div> Too bad they were blanks, huh?</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln roughly rights the wheelchair, settling a very much alive Brady back in, fixing him with him with a baleful look.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> BRADY</div> <div> (damning with feint praise)</div> <div> You make a very convincing traitor.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> Now what?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> BRADY</div> <div> The Carpasian wanted the microprocessor. He's going to get more than he bargained for.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> (impatiently)</div> <div> Spare me the riddles.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> BRADY</div> <div> The override I installed in the car will allow it to be captured -</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln can barely contain his repressed fury -</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> BRADY</div> <div> Then, ninety seconds after the bastards start to remove the microprocessor -</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln's fury grows geometrically under -</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> BRADY</div> <div> (matter of factly)</div> <div> --The car explodes - and Sergei and his Intercrime cronies become casualties of war.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> Damn you, Brady!</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln goes ballistic.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> I didn't go through hell to save her just to let her die again!</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln shoves Brady out of the way, knocking him back out of his wheelchair and heading for Brady's car.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> BRADY</div> <div> (shouting after him)</div> <div> She's dead already! Let her go!</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln climbs in the open door of Brady's car.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> BRADY</div> <div> Don't be an idiot, Pankow!</div> <bR> <div> Ignoring the older man, Lincoln takes off in Brady's car down the street.</div> <bR> <div> CUT TO:</div> <bR> <div> INT. MOVING VAN - DAY</div> <bR> <div> K.D. still struggles. Suddenly, the interior of the van is flooded with light, as the rear doors swing open TO REVEAL -</div> <bR> <div> K.D.'S DIGITIZED POV - THE WAREHOUSE</div> <bR> <div> Ilya and Sergei, surrounded by a half-dozen TECHNICIANS, all grin at her like visitors at a monkey cage.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ILYA</div> <div> (to the Chief Technician; re: car)</div> <div> Get it out. We've got work to do.</div> <bR> <div> As the Technicians scramble up the ramp -</div> <bR> <div> CUT TO:</div> <bR> <div> EXT. BRADY'S CAR - DAY</div> <bR> <div> roars around a corner at a scorching 120 mph.</div> <bR> <div> INT. BRADY'S CAR - DAY</div> <bR> <div> A near empty bourbon bottle slides from under the seat, hitting Lincoln's foot. For a brief second, his eyes flicker across the liquor bottle - then he kicks it back under the seat, refocusing his near-exhausted concentration on getting to K.D. in time.</div> <bR> <div> INT. WAREHOUSE - DAY</div> <bR> <div> K.D. is parked, doors open, surrounded by the Intercrime technicians. Sergei looks over at Ilya and taps his watch.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> SERGEI</div> <div> I've got a plane to catch.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ILYA</div> <div> That's the most dangerous weapon mankind has ever created. And these are the best technicians money can buy.</div> <div> (beat)</div> <div> They won't remove the microprocessor before they are certain all on-board systems are down and safe. </div> <div> (with a gracious gesture)</div> <div> But, please….be my guest.</div> <bR> <div> Off Sergei's impatient glower -</div> <bR> <div> EXT. BRADY'S CAR - DAY</div> <bR> <div> tearing through the intersection as the lights change.</div> <bR> <div> INT. WAREHOUSE - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Ilya looks on, cruelly amused, as Sergei paces, rapidly smoking a cigarette. The Technicians start to wind up their systems check.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> CHIEF TECHNICIAN</div> <div> Another minute, Mr. Dubrovna.</div> <bR> <div> Off Ilya's nod -</div> <bR> <div> EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Brady's car pulls up to the gate manned by a submachine gun packing GUARD. Lincoln rolls down the window.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> Mr. Dubrovna is expecting me.</div> <bR> <div> Before the Guard responds, Lincoln tears off toward the open warehouse entrance.</div> <bR> <div> INT. WAREHOUSE - DAY</div> <bR> <div> The Chief Technician looks over at Ilya -</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> CHIEF TECHNICIAN</div> <div> Systems check complete. We're ready to retrieve the microprocessor.</div> <bR> <div> Ilya nods, then smiles at a still nervously smoking Sergei. Suddenly, they are interrupted by -</div> <bR> <div> LINCOLN</div> <bR> <div> rolling into the warehouse in Brady's car. His window down, he grins cockily at Ilya.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> For two cars and a dead Knight Rider I expect a corner office.</div> <bR> <div> BACK TO SCENE</div> <bR> <div> Sergei fixes Ilya with a look he could chin himself on.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> SERGEI</div> <div> Who in the hell is this?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ILYA</div> <div> (amused)</div> <div> The guy who gave you so much “satisfaction” </div> <div> (to Lincoln)</div> <div> I wasn't sure I'd see you again.</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln climbs out of Brady's car -</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> K.I.T.T., off line.</div> <bR> <div> Brady's car responds with a complete systems shutdown. Out of the corner of his eye, Lincoln notes -</div> <bR> <div> HIS POV - THE CHIEF TECHNICIAN</div> <bR> <div> slides under K.D.'s dash behind the wheel.</div> <bR> <div> BACK TO SCENE</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln swaggers over to Ilya and Sergei, and shakes hands with both men.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> (to Ilya)</div> <div> I burned my bridges. I hope that job offer is still open.</div> <div> (to Sergei)</div> <div> Lincoln Pankow, U.S. Army, Retired.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> SERGEI</div> <div> (pulling back his hand)</div> <div> Get this idiot out of here!</div> <bR> <div> Before Ilya can respond, Lincoln throws a look over his shoulder at the Chief Technician, handing tools to a SECOND Technician under the car, like an O.R. Nurse to a Neurosurgeon.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> If I'd known all you wanted was the microprocessor, I wouldn't have run through barefoot through hell to get the car.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> SERGEI</div> <div> (to Ilya)</div> <div> How does he know we want the microprocessor?</div> <bR> <div> Again, before Ilya can respond -</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> Who do you think built this beauty from the ground up?</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln starts over toward K.D.'s open door. We HEAR a single loud CLICK -</div> <bR> <div> LINCOLN</div> <bR> <div> slowly turns his head left and right. Every weapon in the place is trained on him. He looks over at Ilya, cool as a cucumber -</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> I got a lot invested in that car. And I don't want your grease monkeys screwing it up.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> SERGEI</div> <div> (in Russian)</div> <div> He's not an idiot, he's crazy!</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ILYA</div> <div> My business partner thinks you're a lunatic.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> (in Russian with subtitles)</div> <div> I'm not crazy, just proud of the work I do.</div> <bR> <div> Off Ilya and Sergei's surprised looks -</div> <bR> <div> INT. K.D. - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Suddenly, to the Chief Technician's confusion, a NINETY SECOND CLOCK begins to TICK DOWN on the dashboard display. The Chief Technician fires orders to the Second Technician under the car, who slides out with a questioning look on his face.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN (V.O.)</div> <div> I don't know how you feel about your car -</div> <bR> <div> BACK TO SCENE</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln edges toward K.D. as the Technicians huddle.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> But this car is my best friend.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> CHIEF TECHNICIAN</div> <div> (to Ilya)</div> <div> I'm getting some kind of countdown display, Sir. I'm not sure what to make of it.</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln casually wipes a drop of sweat from his brow.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> This pump jockey just crashed the mainframe. That's a ninety second failsafe to a computer lobotomy.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> SERGEI</div> <div> Is this true?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ILYA</div> <div> How do I know?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> You want me to stop it or not? It's your car.</div> <bR> <div> Ilya hesitates. For the first time he questions his judgment.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> I brought you two cars and killed Brady. What else do you want first day on the job?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> SERGEI</div> <div> Fix it!</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln shoulders aside the Chief Technician, snatching his tools in the same gesture and sliding behind the wheel.</div> <bR> <div> INT. K.D. - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln takes a deep, terrified breath.</div> <bR> <div> LINCOLN'S POV - THE DISPLAY</div> <bR> <div> ticks down: sixty…fifty-nine….</div> <bR> <div> ILYA AND SERGEI</div> <bR> <div> Both incredibly uptight. Each throwing glaring daggers of responsibility at the other.</div> <bR> <div> BACK TO LINCOLN</div> <bR> <div> He disappears under the dash. With his right hand he uses one of the tools to hot-wire K.D.'s ignition - if he can turn K.D. back on, she can stop the bomb. With his left, he surreptitiously drums on the dash alongside the ticking display.</div> <bR> <div> K.D.'S DIGITIZED DISPLAY - FROM THE DASH</div> <bR> <div> She watches Lincoln, racing against time to hot-wire her engine, still nervously tapping the dash.</div> <bR> <div> ON K.D.'S DASHBOARD DISPLAY</div> <bR> <div> The countdown continues …forty-seven…..forty-six….</div> <bR> <div> CHIEF TECHNICIAN</div> <bR> <div> watches Lincoln with a suspicious fish-eye glare. His eyes drift to Lincoln's tapping hand.</div> <bR> <div> LINCOLN</div> <bR> <div> aware of the Chief Technician's scrutiny, still tapping.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> Nerves.</div> <bR> <div> RESUME K.D.'S DIGITIZED POV</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln continues to both hot-wire the ignition and tap on the dash. A flashing warning is SUPERIMPOSED OVER Lincoln. It reads: IGNITION LOCK OVERRIDE ATTEMPT.</div> <bR> <div> ILYA AND SERGEI</div> <bR> <div> Sergei fixes Ilya with a look and lights up another cigarette.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ILYA</div> <div> A little faith. I've seen this kid in action.</div> <bR> <div> BACK TO K.D.'S DIGITIZED POV</div> <bR> <div> She has CLICKED DOWN to Lincoln's left hand. As he taps away, suddenly SUPERIMPOSED OVER the image is a series of pulsing dots and dashes. He's tapping out Morse Code on the dashboard.</div> <bR> <div> K.D. instantly realizes this and translates the code into the message, also SUPERIMPOSED. It reads: BRADY NOT DEAD. BOMB ON BOARD. WHEN ENGINE KICKS IN, DEFUSE. As the message repeats -</div> <bR> <div> ON K.D.'S DISPLAY</div> <bR> <div> The countdown reaches twenty-seven…..twenty-six…..</div> <bR> <div> LINCOLN</div> <bR> <div> Frustrated and terrified, desperately works on the ignition, getting no response. A pair of Needle-Nose Pliers slip from his sweat drenched hands.</div> <bR> <div> K.D.'S DIGITIZED DISPLAY - LINCOLN</div> <bR> <div> ducks below the dash to retrieve the pliers, throwing a fearful glance at the display - twenty-one…..twenty…..</div> <bR> <div> BACK TO LINCOLN</div> <bR> <div> He reinserts the pliers into the ignition with a held breath -</div> <bR> <div> EXT. K.D. - DAY</div> <bR> <div> With a SOFT ROAR, her engine comes to life.</div> <bR> <div> INT. K.D. - DAY - ON DISPLAY</div> <bR> <div> The clock continues to tick down - fifteen……fourteen…..</div> <bR> <div> ILYA AND SERGEI</div> <bR> <div> react instantly. The Interactive Hoods and Technicians all draw and cock their weapons.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> SERGEI</div> <div> Why is he starting the car?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ILYA</div> <div> Pankow?!</div> <bR> <div> K.D.'S DOORS </div> <bR> <div> slam shut and lick, on which ---</div> <bR> <div> ILYA AND HIS MEN</div> <bR> <div> open fire, a barrage of bullets ricocheting off K.D.'s gleaming surface -</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> SERGEI</div> <div> Don't shoot! That's my car!</div> <bR> <div> K.D.'S DIGITIZED POV</div> <bR> <div> As the racket of gunfire rages outside, she locates the bomb - a CREDIT CARD-SIZED VIDEO CIRCUIT BOARD pulsing crimson.</div> <bR> <div> K.D.'S DISPLAY</div> <bR> <div> Counting down the final seconds - six……five…..</div> <bR> <div> LINCOLN</div> <bR> <div> Pouring sweat, ignores the onslaught, forcing calm into his voice.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> (hoarsely)</div> <div> You can do it.</div> <bR> <div> K.D.'S DIGITIZED POV</div> <bR> <div> CLICKS DOWN closer to the board. A LASER OPERATED CIRCUIT BREAKER - a needle-thin crimson light - crosses the SCREEN and ANGLES DOWN TO the board. It cuts through he circuit, severing it like a surgeon's scalpel.</div> <bR> <div> ON K.D.'S DISPLAY</div> <bR> <div> The clock stops with a second to go.</div> <bR> <div> INT. K.D. - DAY</div> <bR> <div> As the barrage continues unabated outside, Lincoln slumps back against the seat, overcome with exhaustion.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> K.D. (V.O.)</div> <div> What do you mean he's not dead?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> It's been a setup since the court-martial.</div> <bR> <div> INT. WAREHOUSE - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Their gunfire having no effect, Ilya, Sergei and the Intercrime hoodlums scatter in every direction.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN (V.O.)</div> <div> Are we going to sit here and talk or we going to nail the bastards who killed you?</div> <bR> <div> ILYA AND SERGEI</div> <bR> <div> race through the aisles of stacked cigarettes. Ilya tosses Sergei a pistol and both FIRE behind them.</div> <bR> <div> K.D.</div> <bR> <div> crashes through a wall of cigarette boxes, reducing the cardboard to shreds.</div> <bR> <div> An INTERCRIME HOOD dodges the car, tossing an INCENDIARY GRENADE over his shoulder at her, as he disappears behind another wall of boxes.</div> <bR> <div> THE GRENADE</div> <bR> <div> detonates to no effect on K.D.'s near impervious surface - but lights up the self-igniting cigarettes in the shredded boxes. Like a domino-effect, the smoke sweeps across the rows of boxes, filling the warehouse with dense clouds of blue smoke.</div> <bR> <div> ILYA AND SERGEI</div> <bR> <div> Slow to a jog behind a forklift.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ILYA</div> <div> There's a side exit downstairs. Follow me.</div> <bR> <div> Ilya takes off again in a trot. Sergei doesn't follow. Ilya turns back.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ILYA</div> <div> Let's go.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> SERGEI</div> <div> I won't let you throw me to the wolves.</div> <bR> <div> Sergei fires, winging Ilya, who throws himself across the aisle of boxes, firing as he rolls. He cuts Sergei down with a burst of GUNFIRE.</div> <bR> <div> INT. ANOTHER PART OF THE WAREHOUSE - DAY</div> <bR> <div> More and more self-igniting cigarettes light up, engulfing the warehouse in acrid smoke and ash. K.D. hurtles through the rows of smoking boxes, searching for Ilya.</div> <bR> <div> INT. K.D. - DAY</div> <bR> <div> The view beyond the windshield is near opaque with smoke. They drive on instruments.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> I want Dubrovna and Sergei alive.</div> <bR> <div> ON K.D.'S DISPLAY</div> <bR> <div> The image of the dead Sergei, sprawled among smoking boxes, appears.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> K.D. (V.O.)</div> <div> The Carpasian is dead.</div> <div> (beat)</div> <div> I got the Russian. He's headed for the side exit.</div> <bR> <div> ILYA</div> <bR> <div> Races down a row of smoking boxes, headed for a stairwell, running by instinct, blinded by the smoke. K.D. ROARS up on his ass, SCREECHING to a halt inches from the too narrow stairwell door as the Russia makes it through. The door closes behind him.</div> <bR> <div> INT. K.D. - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln throws himself out the car door -</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> I'll take him from behind! You cover the outside exit.</div> <bR> <div> The second Lincoln is out, K.D. reverses at high speed, racing toward the loading dock entrance.</div> <bR> <div> INT. STAIRWELL - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Ilya's halfway down the stairs when Lincoln leaps down and tackles him.</div> <bR> <div> As they hit the concrete floor, Ilya smacks Lincoln across the face with a punishing blow from his empty pistol.</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln charges directly through Ilya's second swing with a balled fist into the Russian's face, staggering him. Lincoln's face registers coldblooded revenge.</div> <bR> <div> EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY - K.D.</div> <bR> <div> shatters the accordion door of the loading dock and explodes into the bright sunshine. As she disappears around a corner of the warehouse -</div> <bR> <div> INT. STAIRWELL - DAY</div> <bR> <div> The two adversaries, with roots that go back to the streets, beat the living hell out of each other. If this goes on too long, one or both will be dead.</div> <bR> <div> Ilya breaks momentarily free of Lincoln's grasp and grabs a state-of-the-art fire extinguisher from the wall - slamming it into Lincoln's gut with the force of a battering ram, sending him to his knees. Ilya takes off down the stairs.</div> <bR> <div> Several beats. Lincoln staggers to his feet and throws himself down the stairs in pursuit of Ilya.</div> <bR> <div> EXT. WAREHOUSE - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln bursts from the side door to find K.D. waiting outside.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> Where'd he go?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> K.D. (V.O.)</div> <div> I thought you had him. He never came through the door.</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln throws up his arms and slumps against the car, finally exhausted. Off the SCREAM of APPROACHING SIRENS -</div> <bR> <div> CUT TO:</div> <bR> <div> EXT. DOMESTIC DEFENSE AGENCY - SEVERAL DAYS LATER</div> <bR> <div> K.D. is parked out front, finish gleaming in the sunlight.</div> <bR> <div> INT. K.D. - DAY - ON DASHBOARD DISPLAY</div> <bR> <div> Her DIGITIZED POV - INT. BRADY'S OFFICE. Lincoln in a brown duster, the official uniform of the Knight Riders, stands before Brady's desk. Without a word, Brady hands K.D.'s holstered weapon to Lincoln. He straps it on becoming the new, official Knight Rider Southern California. Brady looks away, dismissing Lincoln who exits, without a word or a handshake.</div> <bR> <div> BACK TO EXT. DOMESTIC DEFENSE AGENCY - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln emerges from the building. K.D.'s door pops open.</div> <bR> <div> INT. K.D. - DAY</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln slides behind the wheel. The door closes.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> K.D. (V.O.)</div> <div> Can you handle this?</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> I can try.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> K.D. (V.O.)</div> <div> Then you've got to put your hatred for Dubrovna behind you. It's the only chance you've got.</div> <bR> <div> K.D. starts her engine.</div> <bR> <div> EXT. K.D. - DAY</div> <bR> <div> as the car drives off, we -</div> <bR> <div> CUT TO:</div> <bR> <div> EXT. DRIVE-IN MOVIE THEATRE - NIGHT</div> <bR> <div> A 20<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >th</FONT> Century relic. A romantic black-and-white, late 40's Film noir plays on the screen. K.D. is the only car in the lot.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> K.D. (V.O.)</div> <div> How many times have we seen this?</div> <bR> <div> INT. K.D. - NIGHT</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln's eyes never leave the screen.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> K.D. (V.O.)</div> <div> They don't end up together at the end.</div> <bR> <div> Lincoln looks away from the screen. He stares at the display for a long moment.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> LINCOLN</div> <div> There's a lot of that going around.</div> <bR> <div> LINCOLN'S POV - THE REAR VIEW MIRROR</div> <bR> <div> Suddenly, K.D.'s eyes stare back at him from the wink mirror. A long moment.</div> <bR> <div> LINCOLN</div> <bR> <div> swivels around, half-expecting to find K.D. sitting behind him. But the car is empty. He turns slowly back --</div> <bR> <div> RESUME - HIS POV - REAR VIEW MIRROR</div> <bR> <div> In the mirror, K.D., once again fighting to assert her humanity, reaches a hand out to him. A longer moment.</div> <bR> <div> LINCOLN'S HAND</div> <bR> <div> Touches the cold glass, trying to touch K.D. and we-</div> <bR> <div> FADE OUT.</div> <bR> <div> <I>THE END</I></div> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>