The scene opens with a close-up of a logo on the side of a truck: some sort of red emblem. As we pull out, little by little, we see that the emblem appears to be slightly…serpentine.
The sounds of "Sinister Purpose" by Creedence Clearwater Revival play in the background. Truck sounds are heard, hinting at a vehicle in motion.
We start a slow zoom out from the logo, only seeing the snake at first. The screen displays the word "LATER" in bold letters, suggesting the story's progression.
As we zoom further out, the words "ONE YEAR" appear on top of "LATER," revealing the full text "ONE YEAR LATER." The camera continues to pull out, showing the entire logo on the side of an 18-wheeler: a cartoon snake with a toothy smile in place of fangs…his tail curls up into the shape of an S, with word “MART” scrawled underneath. A phrase is emblazoned on the side of the truck:
“Save and Shop Smart with S-Mart!”
The camera follows the 18-wheeler as it turns into the S-Mart parking lot, revealing the same logo emblazoned on the building. The truck makes its way to the back of the store for a delivery. The music fades out as the truck comes to a stop.
EXT. S-MART BACK LOT - DAY
The truck driver steps out, opening the back to start unloading. The daily routine of S-Mart begins to unfold.
EXT. S-MART BACK LOT - DAY
We pull into the truck's delivery area, where we meet EVAN MONTGOMERY, early 20s, dutifully checking off everything on his notepad. He irritates the truck driver with his insistence on double-checking each item.
EVAN (muttering to himself as he checks his notepad) Alright, let's see... eggs, milk, bread... oh. Oh wait.
He holds up a box with a crushed corner, frowning. The truck driver, visibly irritated, rolls his eyes.
EVAN I can’t check this one in.
TRUCK DRIVER Kid, it's just a box. The stuff inside's fine. Can we hurry this up?
EVAN (ignoring the driver's frustration) Sorry, but I have to make sure everything is up to SMart standards. Damaged packaging isn't acceptable.
Evan continues to inspect each item carefully, checking them off on his notepad. The truck driver sighs heavily, clearly annoyed by Evan's meticulousness.
TRUCK DRIVER What’s with you, anyway? Do you always have to be this picky?
EVAN (earnestly) Hey, it’s important to do things right. Customers deserve the best, and S-Mart gives it to them.
The camera pans out, giving us a sense of the S-Mart. It's a decent-sized operation, a supermarket/gas station combo with groceries, household items, and more.
TRUCK DRIVER Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, kid. Just hurry it up, will ya?
Evan continues his meticulous inspection, undeterred by the driver's irritation, embodying the eager, naive employee who believes his minimum wage job truly matters.
Evan pauses when he comes across a box of store-brand sodas labeled "Mamba Mist." The box is wet, and Evan discovers that one of the cans has busted, leaking soda everywhere.
EVAN (sighs, shaking his head) This won’t do at all.
TRUCK DRIVER (throwing his hands up in frustration) You gotta be kidding me, kid!
EVAN (determined) Sorry, I can’t let this fly. I need to grab my supervisor.
INT. S-MART - DAY
Evan walks briskly back into the store, weaving through aisles filled with groceries and household items. He greets fellow employees, some stocking shelves, some working registers, before he enters the office area, where we see CHRIS for the first time. Chris looks world-weary, his eyes hard, reflecting a year of hell. Despite this, he maintains a neutral demeanor, hiding his inner turmoil behind a showman's facade.
EVAN Chris, I need you in the back. There’s a problem with the delivery.
CHRIS (neutral, almost detached) Alright, Evan.
Chris gets up from his desk and follows Evan back towards the delivery area.
EXT. S-MART BACK LOT - DAY
Chris and Evan walk back to the delivery area, where the truck driver stands, arms crossed and clearly annoyed.
TRUCK DRIVER About time. Look, I’ve got stops to make. Can we get this over with?
CHRIS (keeping his cool, with a slight smile) I understand, believe me. We’ve all got bosses to make happy. Damaged shipments are a problem for me, which makes them a problem for Evan here, and in turn, a problem for you. It all trickles down.
TRUCK DRIVER (resistant, grumbling) Yeah, well, I don’t have time for this crap today.
CHRIS (sympathetically) I get it. You’re just trying to do your job. Same as me. Same as Evan. We all have to answer to someone, right? Maybe not the best bosses, but bosses all the same.
TRUCK DRIVER (softening slightly, but still annoyed) Fine. What’s the deal?
CHRIS (picking up the damaged box of "Mamba Mist" and showing it to the driver) See this? We can’t put this on the shelf, can we?
TRUCK DRIVER (grumbling) It's just one box.
CHRIS (chuckling) One box today, another box tomorrow. Next thing you know, we’re a warehouse of damaged goods.
He sets the box aside, giving it a light, exaggerated pat.
CHRIS You understand. We have to keep up the standards.
TRUCK DRIVER (sighing) Alright, alright. I get it. You’re the guy who makes a fuss over every little thing, aren’t you? Christ almighty, there’s always one.
CHRIS (reassuringly) I’m not trying to inconvenience you. Just need to make a note on the inventory list and a quick phone call, and everything will be sorted. You don’t have to wait; you can be on your way.
TRUCK DRIVER (reluctantly) Fine. Just make it quick.
The truck driver nods, slightly mollified, and steps out of earshot to get back into his truck. Chris turns to Evan, muttering an insult under his breath.
CHRIS (muttering) Idiot.
Evan hears the insult and smiles a little, clearly impressed by how Chris handled the situation.
CHRIS (almost like he’s talking to himself) The world is full of people like that driver. People who think they can shove others around, who think the rules don’t apply to them.
Chris looks at Evan, his expression hardening.
CHRIS We don’t have to accommodate people like that.
EVAN (nodding, taking it in) Right.
CHRIS I’m going to make a few phone calls. The fool may not know it yet, but he's making his last round of deliveries today.
Evan looks surprised but says nothing. Chris turns to head back inside.
CHRIS You can’t let people get away with shoving you around. They’ll keep doing it.
Chris walks back into the store, leaving Evan standing in the back lot, contemplating his words.
FADE OUT
EXT. LATTIMER HOUSE - DAY
Laura, mid-30s, with tired eyes and a weary expression, makes her way to the mailbox. Her clothes are neat but well-worn. Billy, now 3 years old, follows behind her with boundless energy, a bright smile on his face. He’s holding a small toy car, making it zoom through the air as he walks.
BILLY Mommy, can I get the mail? Can I, can I?
Laura smiles at his enthusiasm, her eyes softening a little.
LAURA Sure, Billy. You’re my little helper today.
Billy reaches up and opens the mailbox, his excitement palpable. He pulls out a stack of envelopes and hands them to Laura. She looks at them, and we see enough red writing to know exactly what they are bills and final notices.
BILLY Did we get anything fun, Mommy?
Laura sighs, shoving the envelopes down into her pocket, trying to keep her smile for Billy’s sake.
LAURA Nothing fun. (peps up) But you did a great job!
Billy beams with pride, still full of life and happiness, a stark contrast to his weary mother.
BILLY Can we play with my cars now, Mommy?
LAURA (smiling warmly, despite her worries) Of course, we can. Let’s go inside.
They walk back towards the house, Billy holding onto Laura's hand, happily making car noises. Laura’s smile fades as she glances back at the mailbox.
FADE OUT
INT. POLICE INTERROGATION ROOM - FLASHBACK
The room is stark and dimly lit. Chris sits at a metal table, his expression calm and unreadable. Across from him are two detectives: Detective Harris and Detective Simmons. The classic good/bad cop duo Papers and photos are spread out on the table, depicting the burned remains of Lattimer Motors and a rams hacked apartment full of police tape - Dan’s apartment
DETECTIVE SIMMONS (leaning forward, aggressive) So, your brother burns down the lot. For the money. We get that. He wanted to help you out. What's family for, right?
DETECTIVE HARRIS (more gently) Chris, we're just trying to understand. You had no idea about any of this? Didn’t know about the chop shop your brother was running in the back?
CHRIS (calmly) No.
DETECTIVE SIMMONS (mocking) You can play that card all you want, but it’s not changing a thing. Your brother screwed you over. No car lot, no insurance money. But what can you do? You're just a loser, right? Needed your big brother to look after you, do your dirty work.
Chris remains unfazed, his eyes steady.
DETECTIVE HARRIS (softer) Chris, we know you got sucked into this. We don't think you're a bad guy. But you need to talk to us. Help us understand.
DETECTIVE SIMMONS What about Hamlin, huh? What was that all about? Did he know too much? Get in the way? What did Mike do to make your brother take him out?
Chris doesn't react, maintaining his calm demeanor. Simmons grabs the photos of Dan’s apartment and shoves them in Chris’s direction
DETECTIVE SIMMONS Mike's body was in Dan's apartment. What was left of it. In the tub. You knew that, didn't you?
The tension in the room is palpable. Chris remains composed.
CHRIS (sounding detached and monotonous) Mike worked for my dad. He used to babysit me and Dan. (he blinks) I don’t know anything about his death.
The detectives exchange glances, frustrated by his lack of reaction.
DETECTIVE HARRIS Chris, we’re just trying to get to the truth. We can help you, but you have to help us first.
Chris doesn't budge, his expression unchanged. The camera slowly fades out, leaving the interrogation ongoing, giving us a glimpse into the turmoil of the past year.
INT. S-MART - LATER THAT DAY
Chris is in his tiny manager's office at the S-Mart, the door slightly ajar. He’s on the phone, having a hushed conversation.
CHRIS (into phone) I’ll be there later.
He hangs up the phone, his face showing signs of stress. He glances at some past due notices on his desk, then shakes his head in frustration. Suddenly, there’s a soft knock on the door. Chris looks up, startled. Laura stands in the doorway, holding a bag of takeout.
LAURA Chris? Everything okay?
CHRIS (startled, then composed) Yeah, just work stuff. What’s up?
LAURA I brought you a late lunch. Figured you worked through.
Chris notices the bag and offers a faint smile.
CHRIS Thanks. Where’s Billy?
LAURA He’s with Mindy – having a playdate with Tommy.
CHRIS (slightly relieved) Fine. I still say Tommy’s a little old for Billy, but….
Chris waves the thought away. Laura steps inside and sets the bag on his desk. She hesitates, looking at him intently.
LAURA I’ve been thinking...I’d like to get out there Chris, get a job. Mindy doesn’t mind helping us watch Billy, and God knows we could use the money…
Chris’s expression hardens slightly, but he tries to keep his tone neutral.
CHRIS No, Laura. I’ve got this.
LAURA (worried) Chris. We’re scraping by. And you don’t even talk about it. You don’t acknowledge it. You’ve “got this”?
CHRIS (defensive) I told you, it’s fine. I’m handling it.
LAURA I saw the past due notices, Chris. Half of them aren’t junk mail.
Chris sighs, running a hand through his hair. He tries to maintain his composure.
CHRIS Look, I’ll sort it out. I just need some time.
LAURA (softly) Chris, I’m scared. I feel like our lives are falling apart…just like that goddamned car lot.
CHRIS (more insistent) Laura, please. Trust me.
Laura looks at him, clearly not convinced but doesn’t push further. She nods and steps back, her eyes lingering on him before she leaves the room.
LAURA Alright. Just… don’t shut me out, okay?
Chris watches her go, the weight of her words hanging in the air. He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair and looking at the takeout bag with a mix of gratitude and guilt.
CUT TO:
INT. S-MART - SALES FLOOR - CONTINUOUS
Laura walks out of the office area and into the store, her expression a mix of concern and determination. She takes out her phone and starts typing a message.
INT. S-MART - CHRIS'S OFFICE - LATER
Chris, now alone in his office, absently eats a fry or two from the fast food bag as he saves the next week’s work schedule on his computer. His eyes drift towards the small filing cabinet beside his desk. With a sigh, he unlocks the top drawer and pulls it out, revealing a stack of envelopesloans, mortgages, closing notices. He doesn't linger, but the burden they represent is clear. There's also a key in the drawer. Chris takes it, but before he closes and locks the drawer back, he spends a moment gazing at the stack of envelopes he's been hiding from Laura.
Chris steps out of his office and spots Evan stocking shelves.
CHRIS Evan, can I see you for a minute?
Evan, always eager to help, quickly sets down his task and heads over.
EVAN Sure thing, Mr. Lattimer. What’s up?
CHRIS I've got some errands to run, but I’m not sure how long I’ll be...
Evan jumps at the chance, his eyes lighting up.
EVAN I’ll stay and lock up for you! No problem at all.
CHRIS (reminding) You’re scheduled to get off in an hour.
EVAN It’s fine, Mr. Lattimer. Really. After all, you helped me deal with that asshole delivery man!
Chris smiles, clearly pleased with Evan’s eagerness.
CHRIS Thanks, Evan. I appreciate it. There’s some takeout in my office if you get hungry.
EVAN (grinning) No worries, Mr. Lattimer. I’ve got this.
Chris nods, patting Evan on the shoulder as he heads towards the door. Evan watches him go, feeling proud to be trusted with the responsibility.
CUT TO:
EXT. S-MART - PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS
Chris steps into his car, starts the engine, and drives off, a determined look on his face as he grips the steering wheel tightly.
FADE OUT.
INT. PHILLIP “CHUCKLES” PROVOST – PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR OFFICELATER THAT DAY
The office is small and cluttered, with piles of papers and files strewn about. The walls are adorned with a few old, faded posters and a map with various pins and notes tacked onto it. The atmosphere is dim, lit by a single desk lamp. Phillip “Chuckles” Provost, dressed in a bright Hawaiian shirt with red and yellow hibiscus flowers, sits behind a desk, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed demeanor. He’s flipping through a file as Chris enters.
CHRIS (slightly hesitant) Mr. Provost?
Chuckles looks up, a friendly yet calculating smile on his face.
CHUCKLES Chris, come in. Have a seat. And call me Chuckles.
Chris closes the door behind him and sits down across from Chuckles, glancing around the cluttered office.
CHRIS I’ll stick with Provost. You got anything new for me?
Chuckles leans forward, placing the file on the desk between them.
CHUCKLES I might. But first, let’s talk about your end of the deal.
Chris reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope, handing it over to Chuckles. Chuckles takes it, weighing it in his hand before setting it aside.
CHRIS That’s everything I could scrape together. Now, what do you have?
CHUCKLES (smiling, relaxed) You’re eager, I like that. Here’s what I found out. Buzzer’s been keeping a low profile, but he’s not invisible. He’s got a few safe houses scattered around, and he’s still running operations. Nothing too concrete, but it's a start.
CHRIS (determined and cynical) I need more than that. I need to know where he is, where he’s going, how to get him. And seriously, what’s with the shirts?
Chuckles glances down at his shirt, then back up at Chris with a grin.
CHUCKLES Gotta keep things lively, right? But back to business. Buzzer’s a core member of a group of baddies who call themselves the….Dreadnoks. Biker gang on the surface. Pretty big operation. But there’s more to it than big dudes in leather. They’re organized, with branches all over. And there’s a guy who heads up the whole operation. Real private Damn near a ghost. There’s a lot more behind this Buzzer than you realize.
CHRIS (pressing further) Who are these Dreadnoks? Who’s this mysterious leader of theirs?
CHUCKLES (leaning back, relaxed) Couldn’t give you a name. The Man with No Face. The Hardcase. Depends on who you’re asking. No one outside his inner circle really knows anything about him. Conflicting reports on what he even looks like. And I’m not talking about hair color. I mean people can’t seem to agree on this guys’ race. He’s a master of disguise. Buzzer’s one of the few in his inner circle, so any move we make on him has to be careful.
CHRIS (frustrated) That’s not enough. I need real answers.
CHUCKLES (still calm, but firm) Listen, Chris. These guys don’t play around. What they did to your family, what they did to Hamlin... you don’t want to push them too far without knowing what you’re getting into.
Chris fishes out a stack of cash and slams it on the desk.
CHRIS This is my last payment. If there aren’t any real results next time, then maybe you’re not the man for the job.
Chris stands up to leave, his frustration palpable. He opens the door and walks out without another word. Chuckles watches him go, his expression thoughtful, then he relaxes back into his chair.
Once Chris is gone, Chuckles picks up the phone, dialing a number. He waits a moment, then speaks.
CHUCKLES (into phone) This is Provost. It’s been months, and he still hasn’t shown up. I say we cut the line on Lattimer.
He listens for a moment, then continues.
CHUCKLES Yes, sir. I understand.
FADE OUT.
INT.
MINDY'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON
Laura enters the living room where Billy and Mindy's five-year-old son, Jake, are playing. Laughter fills the room.
MINDY (smiling) They’re having a blast. I was just about to step outside for a... break. Want to join me?
LAURA (slightly hesitant) Sure.
EXT. MINDY'S BACKYARD - LATE AFTERNOON
Mindy leads Laura to the back porch. A mini fridge sits in the corner. Mindy opens it, pulling out a box of chardonnay.
MINDY (smirking) I know you won’t have a cigarette, but you’re not saying no to a glass of wine.
Laura laughs as Mindy pours two glasses. They sit down on the porch, the sun casting a warm glow over them.
MINDY (taking a sip) This is my little sanctuary. Helps me unwind. So, what’s really going on, Laura?
LAURA (sighing) Chris is working hard. We’re just... adjusting to everything. (pauses) More like scraping by. I guess.
MINDY (lighting a cigarette) Come on, Laura. I can see how stressed you are. Your face gives it away. Chris can’t keep you in the dark like this. You have a right to know what’s going on.
LAURA (deflecting) It’s not that simple, Mindy. I mean, what am I supposed to do? I have a degree in communications. It’s not exactly a ticket to a high-paying job. Not that Chris wants me to get one in the first place.
MINDY (firmly) Don’t sell yourself short. You’re smart, capable, and you’ve got Billy to think about. You need to stand up for yourself. For him. Chris doesn’t call the shots.
LAURA (sighing deeply) I just... I don’t want to make things worse. Chris has been under so much pressure.
MINDY Who cares how much pressure he’s under? You can’t just sit back and hope it gets better. You’re his partner, Laura, not his dependent.
LAURA (quietly) I know. I just... don’t know where to start.
MINDY (starting to soften) Start by talking to him. Really talking. And if he won’t open up, you need to do what’s best for you and Billy. You can’t live in the dark like this.
Laura takes a sip of her wine, looking thoughtful.
MINDY (sipping her wine) You know, it wasn’t easy for me either. But sometimes you have to take that leap. Trust me, Laura. You’re stronger than you think.
LAURA (slightly smiling) Thanks, Mindy.
MINDY (smiling back) Anytime. Now, let’s finish this wine
The conversation continues, but we pull away, seeing the determination growing on Laura’s face.
FADE OUT.
INT. S-MART - NIGHT
Evan is whistling to himself, going through the closing routine. We follow him as he tidies up the store.
INT. S-MART - SLUSHEE MACHINE
Evan carefully refills the slushee machine, making sure everything is spotless.
INT. S-MART - AISLES
Evan sweeps up some trash, diligently checking for missed spots. He hums a tune, clearly in a good mood.
INT. S-MART - FREEZER SECTION
Evan wipes down the glass doors of the freezer section, ensuring they sparkle. He steps back, admiring his work.
INT. S-MART - MANAGER'S OFFICE
Evan sweeps the floor of the manager's office. As he sweeps under the filing cabinet, the broom catches the corner of an envelope, pulling it into view. The envelope is marked with red text: "FINAL NOTICE. ACTION REQUIRED."
Evan hesitates, then picks up the envelope, curiosity getting the better of him. He glances around, making sure he's alone, then tears it open a bit more to read the contents. Evan's face falls as he reads the notice, his expression turning from curiosity to concern.
EVAN (softly) Mr. Lattimer...
FADE OUT.
INT. SWAMPY WOODS - NIGHT
The moonlight filters through the dense, swampy trees, casting eerie shadows. The sound of crickets fills the air, and the swamp water ripples mysteriously. Spanish moss hangs low, creating an almost ghostly atmosphere. An ominous feeling pervades the scene.
EXT. SWAMPY WOODS - CONTINUOUS
A motorcycle suddenly roars into view, tearing through the swampy terrain. The rider is none other than BUZZER, his face set in grim determination. The motorcycle skids to a stop in front of a large, weathered cabin by the water. The cabin, built from old, darkened wood, looks almost abandoned, with moss growing on the roof and windows covered in grime.
EXT. CABIN - CONTINUOUS
Two figures step out of the cabin, blocking the entrance. Rough looking customers. Beards. Sunglasses. It's TORCH and RIPPER. An OG Dreadnok reunion.
TORCH (grinning) Well, look who decided to drop by. Thought you'd gone soft on us, mate.
RIPPER (laughing) We got two dozen chocolate doughnuts inside. Don't worry, we saved you some, ya cheeky bugger!
BUZZER (all business) Is he in there?
TORCH (sighing, reluctantly) Yeah, he's in there. Wants to see you. Tried to tell 'im to wait, but you know 'im.
BUZZER (nodding) Alright, let's get this over with.
Torch and Ripper exchange uneasy glances. The mood shifts to something more serious and foreboding as Buzzer heads toward the cabin.
TORCH (patting Buzzer on the back) Good luck, mate. You'll need it.
RIPPER (grinning) Don’t worry, we'll save ya some doughnuts.
EXT. CABIN DOOR - CONTINUOUS
Buzzer pushes open the door, and we follow him as he steps inside, the darkness swallowing him. The interior is dimly lit, with shadows dancing on the walls. The air is thick with the smell of damp wood and something else...something metallic.
INT. CABIN - CONTINUOUS
The interior of the cabin is dimly lit, with shadows dancing on the walls. The tension is palpable. The furniture is old and worn, with a large, imposing desk at the far end of the room. Papers and maps are strewn across it, and a single, dim lamp casts an eerie glow.
BUZZER (under his breath) Let's see what he wants now.
The camera pulls back, showing the cabin in its entirety, shrouded in the swamp's eerie silence. The sound of the door closing echoes through the night.
FADE TO BLACK