ONCE UPON A TIME IN PARIS by Jack Bullions FADE IN: A FULL MOON swimming in the cold winter air. CUT TO: EXT. CEMETARY - DAY Wind whistling. CUT TO a stone effigy of the angel of death, wings spread wide, half-smile on her face, with a cloak of snow. PULL BACK to reveal a large obelisk grave marker the statue is perched on. PAN FURTHER BACK. The entire yard is blanketed in white from an earlier storm. Morbid winter wonderland. Then, the soft SOUNDS of snow being crunched. Someone is approaching. A large shadow falls over the stone with the angel. Whoever it is stares at the statue, then moves away. WHIP PAN following the man in a low angle view. His legs passing by numerous manicured headstones, markers of all kinds, arriving at the cemetery gates. PAN UP AND AROUND past his body, to see the man from behind. He is tall, powerful build under the long coat flowing against the wind. His stature is impeccable, unmoving against the cold breath of nature. He pushes open the outer gates. It CREAKS, disturbing silence. EXT. STREETSIDE - DAY The man walks out of the gate, to BUFFY waiting. It's freezing out in Paris. Ice puddles along the curb. Ground so cold, smoke rises from the cement and gravel. Buffy exhales a mist, brushes her arm briskly. Her nose giving off a rosy hue. THE MAN You okay? BUFFY Superbe. Et vous? THE MAN Peachy. A church bell rings from a distance, resonating. This draws Buffy's attention to -- HER POV: A large white cross on the church steeple standing against the rolling gray clouds. BACK ON BUFFY, pulling her leather jacket tighter around her body. Both of them wear predominately black. BUFFY So what are we waiting for? THE MAN Our contact. He is late. Buffy nods, rocks back and forth on the inch-high heels of her boots. THE MAN You sure you don't want my coat? Seeing how you're practically naked in front of me. BUFFY I'm good. THE MAN Sure? BUFFY (hard) Yes, Dad. THE MAN All right. You sneeze, you suffer. A long sleek STRETCH LIMO cruises up near the entrance of the cemetery. It pulls to a stop. The man motions Buffy to climb in. INT. LIMOUSINE - DAY Inside, a PRIEST, early 40s, is sitting, looking stressed. He's dressed in his "civilian" clothing, wears his hair short and proper. The door opens, a shadow comes inside and a sudden gust of cool wind. The Priest visibly shudders, both from man and nature. Buffy drops herself in a seat across from him. The Priest is surprised by her appearance, stares. PRIEST Oh, I did not expect company. THE MAN (perfect French, off screen) Mon apprenti. The Priest looks even more confused. PRIEST Ah oui, I see. An apprentice... THE MAN (O.S.) Problem? PRIEST No. Not at all. This is unexpected. BUFFY I take it there's history between you. THE MAN He has connections with the Camarilla, Buffy. It helps to have someone work in the day, especially a person of his position. PRIEST The Church acknowledges grievance from the vampire society, for the events that had transpired during the Inquisition. And for better or for worst, this is our first steps towards reconciliation. (to the man) Again, I would like to express my sincerest gratitude for you coming to us. THE MAN (O.S.) I'm here, Father. You have nothing to worry about. This place is it. The Priest looks out the window. A sullen nod. PRIEST This was Brother Pierre's church. He had a congregation of his own several years ago. There were some problems. The church has been deserted since. THE MAN (O.S.) What sort of problems? PRIEST We aren't sure exactly what happened to him, only theories, or what became of him after. He disappeared. The Priest leans forward to pick up a file. The action draws him close to Buffy. He smiles uncomfortably. PRIEST Excusez-moi. Buffy scoots to the side. THE MAN (O.S.) Brother Pierre? PRIEST He was an excellent priest, devoted in every way. He opens up the file, pulls out 8-inch by 10-inch glossies. A HAND appears, accepts each photo one by one. The first one is of a YOUNG GIRL, no more than late teens, an angel, smiling as if the sun never sets. Each other one, various blow-ups of other people. PRIEST Those are the missing victims of the past four months. The first photo is Chloe. The photos are rotated between the three. PRIEST (indicating a mugshot of a man) That is Brother Pierre. THE MAN A Slayer was sent? PRIEST Oui. Chloe. She was sent last night. She has not returned since. (beat) With each passing hour, her family grows desperate. It won't be long before authorities investigate and most likely find nothing and declare the case closed like the others. THE MAN Perhaps. And her Watcher? The Priest hesitates to answer. Buffy looks up from the photo. PRIEST He is... useless. Do you believe it is too late? THE MAN Won't be a problem. Have faith, Father. We'd better get started. PRIEST God go with you. EXT. LIMOUSINE - DAY The man climbs out of the limo. He turns around. Meet JEHONAS, looking not a day older or younger. He moves off. AT THE BACK OF THE LIMO Jehonas pops open the trunk, brings out A LARGE SUIT CARRIER. He slams down the trunk, puts the luggage over. Jehonas unzips it, revealing an assortment of GUNS, high-tech weapons, stakes of silver, gold and wood, strapped inside. He zips it back up. Light snowfall starting to come down. He adjusts the collar of his long coat, starts across the street with Buffy. EXT. CHURCH - DAY A once exemplary church, now boarded up, neglected. Gothic in style, it stands with deserted brownstones and empty lots of rubble as neighbors. Ancient, vaguely wolf-like GARGOYLES high up stare down at Jehonas and Buffy moving up the stairs. BELOW, they reach the double brazen doors. BUFFY What's his deal? It's like he hasn't seen a girl in years. JEHONAS He hasn't. The limo starts up and leaves. Jehonas pulls open the door, revealing darkness. They both disappear inside. INT. CORRIDOR - DIMLY LIT - DAY Footsteps ECHOING in the b.g. Jehonas appears into frame, stops before another door, pushes it open. He and Buffy enter from the lobby into the front of the church. A huge-ass church. Shafts of colored light needle through the holes in the pieces of wood and cloth that cover the broken stained glass windows. Jehonas walks down the center aisle between deteriorated pews. Rats run from one side to the other, disturbed by the sudden intrusion. Buffy clicks on her flashlight, shines the light from one side to the other, taking in the sight. JEHONAS 13th Century Gothic. Many of the gypsies and other deemed heretic religions escaped the Inquisition by fleeing into sympathizing churches like this. (beat) No doubt, vampires of today still use this church for the same purpose. Buffy nods silently. JEHONAS Underneath the floors of the church are the catacombs of Rochereau. The tunnels connect to the sewer networks of Paris. BUFFY A good way to run and hide. JEHONAS Yes. Jehonas stops before a rather barren altar. To the right, at the top of the altar stairs, there is a stone statue of a saint with his arms outstretched, welcoming. Buffy shines her light at the statue. The life-size saint is covered in spider-webs. Tiny spiders crawl across his eyes, which look down on Jehonas and Buffy. JEHONAS Saint Aquinas. Philosopher. Theologian. Patron of schools and universities. A man of many skills. Buffy shines the flashlight against the back altar wall, revealing a wooden carving of Christ crucified. BUFFY Is this still his house, even when no one comes anymore? JEHONAS Of course, Buffy. He watches her move the beam of light around. JEHONAS Do you believe in God? BUFFY (shrugs) I've called out to him once or twice. JEHONAS Let me ask you something else. Why are you here? With me. You are in the Lord's house remember. Answer honestly. Buffy rolls her eyes, going into a routine. BUFFY It couldn't hurt if you had a little back-up, right? JEHONAS Yes, you told me that in New York, a year ago. This is Paris. BUFFY Yeah, I know. But you invited me to come, remember that? and this isn't something I get offered a lot. JEHONAS Slaying? BUFFY No, going out of the country. I wanted to hang with you, and besides, I'm learning 13th Century Gothic history, right? Learning is a good thing. Buffy points to the statue. A wry smile spreads across Jehonas' face, nods. He shrugs off his long coat with casual grace. Underneath is his sleeveless 6-Point Kevlar vest. BUFFY What? You have that expression again. Jehonas drops back to his inscrutable face. JEHONAS What expression? BUFFY That thing you're doing. JEHONAS Taking off my coat? Jehonas places his longcoat over an upturned bench. BUFFY No. Yes. I know that face. Whatever you're thinking, that's not it. JEHONAS That could hurt a man. BUFFY Stop that. That's not what I meant. (defensive) Wait a minute, what are you thinking? JEHONAS I like you a lot, Buffy. You're a good kid. He turns. JEHONAS (CONT'D) What do you think I'm thinking? BUFFY Well... I just, you know... oh, nevermind. Buffy spins away from him, taking off her own coat. Something distracts Jehonas. His back to her. His attention focused to the floor. Placing the carrier bag on the altar, he kneels down. TIGHT ON JEHONAS, his eyes, careful and feral, are working over the feint DRAG MARKS and FOOTPRINTS from the dust. Except the footprints are odd. Bestial. He adjusts his position, following the tracks under Buffy and to the darkness beyond. JEHONAS Footprints, Buffy, leading deeper into the church. BUFFY Usual M-O? JEHONAS No blood. Victim may have been unconscious. Check out the prints. Buffy crouches down with Jehonas. BUFFY Whoa, this looks absolutely funky. JEHONAS Yes. There's something different. Jehonas stands, perplexed, stares at the church. BUFFY Werebat? Like the ones from that Mong- ee Place? JEHONAS I can't tell. The edges are too feint. (corrects her French) And it's Place Monge. He unzips the bag and pulls out a sleek black high-powered HUNTING CROSSBOW. He flips a switch and the bow ARMS swing out with metallic greasy smoothness, locking into place. He tosses it to Buffy. BUFFY Uh, no. Shotgun. Jehonas goes back to his bag. BUFFY Shotgun. No answer. BUFFY We've been at this, what, for like a year and you still don't trust me with a gun? JEHONAS A shotgun, and a gun, are two very different weapons. BUFFY Whatever. I know about the whole recoil thing. I heard your schpeel. But seriously I think the vampire community is making headways into the 20th century while the Slayers hang back with stakes and crossbows. That is so not cool. So. Shotgun. Jehonas rolls it through his mind. He pulls out a sawed-off 12-GAUGE BROWNING LEVER-ACTION SHOTGUN. He twirls the shotgun, a la Terminator, chambering a round and hands it to her. An expression of sublime delight fills her face as she takes the piece. JEHONAS Just watch where you point it. He goes back to his bag, pulls out DUAL RUGER P85s. He slaps in a fresh clip in each one, chambers a round. Fluids graceful and mechanical. Next. His MAC-10 SMG from Slayers. Next. He straps a bandoleer of STAKES around his left thigh. Next. His SWORD, the blade of Jehonas, sheathed into a back scabbard. He turns back to Buffy who is squatting, lacing up her boots. His eyes drop down to her behind, perfectly shaped under tight fitting pants. Jehonas shifts his eyes away. Buffy tucks her hair behind a ear, looks up at him. She notices his tongue rolling against the inside of his cheek. BUFFY Did you eat? She does an injection motion with her hand. JEHONAS Yes. No underwear today? BUFFY (impish grin) What's wrong with that? JEHONAS Nothing. BUFFY It gets in the way when I kick... JEHONAS (holding up hand) All right. You women. We ready? BUFFY Let's book. He hands her a gold chrome COLT 1911 handgun with holster, which she takes and slings over her shoulder. Buffy notices Jehonas still looking at her, almost a proud look. They share a moment. Two hunters, mutual camaraderie in their work. Jehonas nods to the darkness, and they leave. INT. STAIRWAY - DAY Jehonas and Buffy move down the giant stairs without so much of a noise, keeping their backs to the wall. Their eyes alert, scanning the surroundings. Both minds now on the hunt. At the bottom of the stairs -- They both turn to a doorway leading into a corridor of perpetual darkness. INT. CORRIDOR - DAY Jehonas and Buffy cat-step down the hallway. They stop before another door. INT. CELLAR ROOM - DAY Jehonas peers into the room. Silence. The place was once a study, but now a complete mess. Decaying bookshelves lying on top of each other, wrecked from moisture. Broken furniture, some graffiti on walls, smashed light bulbs. He moves to one specific bookcase, a giant one set against the wall. He looks down -- ON THE FLOOR Scrape marks on the dusty ground. Jehonas and Buffy both push the bookcase on one side. It rotates loudly, stone grinding on stone. They look in, more darkness. INT. CATACOMBS - DAY Jehonas and Buffy, quite stoic, climb down the ancient stairs, watching left and right. Jehonas reaches over his shoulder and slowly unsheathes his slender sword. The SOUNDS of static drip of water echoing in the b.g. Buffy goes wide eyed as soon as she's at the foot of the stairs. BUFFY Oh, my God. They stare at two large tunnels which lead into a twisting, intestinal maze, lined from floor to ceiling with HUMAN SKULLS and FEMURS. The bones form the building blocks of the tunnel walls and are arranged in various patterns -- from crucifixes to Masonic pyramids and even pentagrams. We see where the drips were coming from. Ground water seeping from the ceilings and walls, dripping over the eroded, crumbling bones. JEHONAS After the revolution, the Paris cemeteries overflowed. Many dug up the old bodies of their relatives and brought them here. Seven thousand people. Mostly very poor. I helped a thirteen year old girl bury her father here many years ago. BUFFY Pretty stylish digs for a bunch of paupers. JEHONAS Of course. They are French. He leads her -- CUT TO: DEEPER INSIDE, Jehonas moving at the point, Buffy a few paces behind. She's keeping careful watch over her shoulder, gripping the pump of her Browning tighter. They pass an intersection, keeping the straight path. Then suddenly -- SOMETHING BIG, a flash of fur, sprinting across the corridor behind Buffy. Hardly a sound. But Buffy feels that hair tingling behind the back of her neck. She looks back. Nothing. TIGHT ON JEHONAS, scanning the floor when -- HIS HEAD SUDDENLY TURNS. He listens to something we cannot begin to hear. A momentary pause.
