INT./EXT. DODGE TRUCK, COUNTRY ROAD – EARLY MORNING
Headlights rattle over a dirt road. David drives, tired but determined. No music. No mess in the truck. Almost as if it's the truck's first time being driven.
CARD ON SCREEN: 6 Years Ago
MR. OWENS (PRE-LAP): Sorry for the early start. Hope you got your rest.
David turns the wheel, steering the truck into a farm.
We pull out of the truck and stay immobile, focusing on the front gate, which is open.
DAVID (PRE-LAP): Yeah, sorta. Rough night.
INT. MR. OWEN'S HOME – EARLY MORNING
A country-styled living room, well lit and comfortable. MR. OWENS (65) is sitting on the couch. Very healthy for his age. David is sitting across from him, calm and patient.
MR. OWENS: We all get those, I reckon.
DAVID: Yessir.
MR. OWENS: Alright Mr. Aim. I called you in a little earlier than usual because of the hay. I need 40 bales, at least.
DAVID: Yessir.
MR. OWENS: Remember what I taught you? How to drive the baler?
DAVID: Yessir, I remember.
MR. OWENS: Good, good. Let me get the keys.
Mr. Owens gets up. Makes his way to the kitchen. We stay on David, moving towards him slowly.
EXT. FIELD – DAY
The baler. Making hay bales. Moving along at its normal speed. David driving, looking as bored as ever.
CLOSE ON: David, driving inside of the baler. Rattling with the baler.
MR. OWENS (PRE-LAP): Here you go.
INT. MR. OWEN'S HOME – EARLY MORNING
Mr. Owens hands David the keys to the baler. Walks back to the couch.
DAVID: Thank you. (A beat.) Sir?
MR. OWENS: Yes, Mr. Aim?
DAVID: Is it alright if I carry a gun on my person?
MR. OWENS: I ain't see why not. As long as you only use it on who or what deserves the bullet.
DAVID: Yessir. (A beat.) What about just to shoot?
MR. OWENS: That's also... alright. But call me before you use it. So I know it's you.
A brief pause.
DAVID: Yes, sir.
David gets up. Walks towards the door.
EXT. FIELD – DAY
David. Leaning on his truck. Sweating. It's fucking hot outside. He hangs up his phone. Puts it in his pocket.
Beyond David: 40+ bales of hay, lined next to each other neatly. David gazes out, thinking.
INT. DODGE TRUCK, FIELD – (MOMENTS LATER) – DAY
CLOSE ON: A revolver on the floor of the truck, on the passenger's side. A little box next to it. Scraped on the revolver: "DON'T MISS".
The passenger door opens. David reaches in and picks up both items from the floor. Then leaves and shuts the door.
EXT. FIELD – (MOMENTS LATER) – DAY
David. As he's walking away from the truck. He pulls some bullets out of the little box and loads them into the chamber. He snaps the cylinder into the gun.
He stops in front of a hay bale about fifteen meters away. Fires once.
CLOSE ON: The area where the bullet struck. Perfect shot.
INT. TRUCK – (MOMENTS LATER) – DAY
David. Sitting in the drivers seat. He slams the door shut. Starts the truck. A look of anger is in his eyes.
SFX (SLOWLY GETTING LOUDER): A little boy screaming in pain. A man yelling "Don't miss!" over and over. A gunshot.
David starts hitting the steering wheel. Over and over.
YOU ARE READING
Technically, Missing.
Science FictionIn the not too distant future, the early 22nd century, gifted humans are common, protecting their cities by whatever means possible, day and night. But when the most powerful of all of them disappears, a vigilante named The Deadly Figure, it's up to...
