Disclaimers: Same as in Teaser.

Spoilers: A Girl's Life


ACT I


INT. FIRST FLOOR OF APARTMENT BUILDING. *POV of Michael, who is flat on his back, as he stares upward into the hole he just fell through. It is dark and empty until a flashlight is shined in his face.*


DR. MORRIS (towering over him, holding the flashlight)
Mr. Wiseman? Get up, Mr. Wiseman.


*Michael remains motionless, not wanting to move, reminiscent of a similar scene in "A Girl's Life."*


MICHAEL (clearly pained)
From now on - and I don't care how much it costs the government in extra salaries - I want two guys following me around wherever I go with padding. Big, cushy padding. Like the kind stuntmen fall onto.


DR. MORRIS (rolling his eyes)
Get up, Mr. Wiseman...


MICHAEL (interrupting)
I mean it this time, Doc. [he slowly and carefully pulls himself up] I'm still waiting for my government issue parachute.


DR. MORRIS (leaving the scene)
Come along, Mr. Wiseman.


EXT. OUTSIDE THE APARTMENT BUILDING. *Police vehicles are now on the scene, and official personnel go about arresting the armed man in the background as Dr. Morris emerges from the building with Michael lagging behind. An agent, carrying an open umbrella, steps up to Dr. Morris and hands him his cell phone while covering him with the umbrella. Dr. Morris takes the phone and listens intently. Michael, in the meantime, still soaking, sends angry glances in Dr. Morris' directions before leaning against the limo.*


DR. MORRIS (speaking into the phone)
Yes.


MICHAEL (wiping the rain off his face)
Oh, that's okay. I'm fine. Great, really.


DR. MORRIS (ignoring Michael)
Yes... Okay...Yes...I understand.


MICHAEL
No problem. I'll just stand here, catch pneumonia, which will be fine since I'll be sick for - what - only a couple of hours? Or am I immune to that, too, along with the other gazillion diseases you and your mad scientist friends made sure wouldn't slow me down while I'm protecting truth, justice, and the American way?

DR. MORRIS (motions to the agent to go to the truck and holds the umbrella himself)
We'll have that taken care of in no time...Thank you, sir.

*He turns off his phone, replaces it in his pocket, and walks toward Michael.*


MICHAEL
I love how you say, "We'll take care of that." "We'll go on that mission and we'll risk our butts." "We." [sighs] Never lose that sense of humor.


DR. MORRIS
Mr. Wiseman...


CUT TO:
INT. SAME NIGHT/WEATHER. HEATHER'S BEDROOM. *Heather is on her bed surrounded by books and papers. She is trying not to pay attention to the storm outside, but finally, she gets up and goes to close her window. It sticks.*


LISA (appearing at the door)
Need any help?


HEATHER (still pushing down on the window)
No, I've... got...it.
*With the final word, the window slams down, making Lisa jump.*


LISA
Glad to see you're an independent woman.

*She waits to see a smile from Heather that doesn't come. She sits on the bed, pushing some books to the side.*

You okay?

*As Heather sits down, too, Lisa brushes some hairs out of her daughter's face.*


HEATHER
I'm fine, Mom. The weather-I don't know-I don't like the weather.


LISA (understanding somewhat)
Are you sure that's all? We could talk, you know.

*Heather looks up at her mother. Her gaze is lasting, all-telling. Her eyes scream, "I can't stand not being able to control anything. I want to stop feeling so empty. I want to cry in your arms for hours while you tell me everything is going to be all right. I want my old life back. I want everything to change." Her eyes fall downward.*


HEATHER (quietly)
I'm fine.


LISA (reluctantly)
Okay. [gets off the bed] Don't stay up too late.


HEATHER
I won't. [as she resumes her work]


LISA (at the door)
Heather?


HEATHER (looking up)
Yeah, Mom?


LISA
I love you. [she swallows hard]


HEATHER
I know.

*Lisa hesitates a moment longer at the doorway, then walks away. Heather looks at the window as a streak of lightening catches her attention.*


CUT TO:
INT./EXT. PARKED LIMO/AREA IN FRONT OF BUILDING. *The doctor is in his usual spot nestled inside the limo. The occasional red police light passes through the car. Michael, meanwhile, is outside the limo, still soaking. He knocks on the tinted window. Dr. Morris rolls it down.*


DR. MORRIS
Can I help you?


MICHAEL
Doc, c'mon! This is cruel and unusual punishment.


*He rests his arms on the lower frame of the window. Dr. Morris stares at this and waits.*


MICHAEL (realizing)
Oh, for crying out loud!


*He jerks his arms back and steps away from the car, throwing his hands up in the air. Dr. Morris rolls the window back up. Michael walks behind the limo, fed up. AGENT #1 appears from the Toys 'B Fun truck with his own umbrella, carrying with him a waterproof bag. He hands the bag to Dr. Morris who has since rolled down his window again, then walks over to Michael. He holds the umbrella over Michael as the agent opens the other car door.*


MICHAEL (to Agent #1 before climbing into the car)
I hate you.


INT. LIMO. *Michael's seat in the limo is covered with navy blue towels so that not an inch of him gets the leather interior wet. He is still annoyed and shakes his hair out, like a wet dog does to its fur, to spite the doctor. Dr. Morris sits calmly in his seat as the limo pulls away. The bag is now discarded on the floor, and Dr. Morris holds a file in his lap.*


DR. MORRIS (off Michael's looks)
No sense in damaging government property with watermarks, now is it?


MICHAEL (drying off his hair with a towel)
What about this government property? [indicating himself]


DR. MORRIS (ignoring him, opens the file)
We're making a detour tonight before going back to the townhouse.


MICHAEL
See, again there you go with all this "we" business. "We" will not be doing anything. [he gestures between himself and Dr. Morris]. You [points to Dr. Morris] will remain safe and warm while I [points to himself] will continue to suffer on this never-ending dark and stormy night.


DR. MORRIS
Now, that you're got that out of your system, you [with emphasis] have another job to do.


MICHAEL
This better show up on my overtime check.


DR. MORRIS
This project has been asked to deal with a one Miles Friedman.

*He hands Michael a photograph of Miles, of what could only be from be high school, braces, thick glasses, pimples and all.*


MICHAEL (taking the photo)
Whoa, I didn't think they made them that nerdy anymore. Wait, let me guess, his parents have finally had enough and need me to get their "Star Trek" fan-club-dues-paying son out of their basement?


DR. MORRIS
Not quite. [hands Michael black and white surveillance photos of Miles entering and exiting a warehouse] From his college transcripts and testing scores, Mr. Friedman could very well be one of the greatest scientific minds of our time.


MICHAEL
You jealous?


DR. MORRIS
Mr. Wiseman, please. His specialty, from what could loosely be pieced together, is identifying and then manipulating fragile folds in the spaces between an inter-dimensional continuum in the hopes of creating a stable...


MICHAEL (interrupting)
English, Doc? English?


DR. MORRIS
I don't understand it all myself, quite frankly. My background in physics is not as extensive as I would like it to be. Mr. Friedman's research has been kept secret for quite some time now.


MICHAEL
And I care so much about this guy because...?


DR. MORRIS
While being a fantastic scientific genius, Mr. Friedman is, also, currently under the employment of Mr. Vincent Drake.


MICHAEL
Drake as in the crime family Drakes? Mobsters? This pocket-protector guy is working for mobsters?


DR. MORRIS
Scientists will work for pretty much anyone if they're able to receive the needed money to fund their work.


MICHAEL (looks at the doc with his last comment)
What am I supposed to do?


DR. MORRIS
You are to apprehend Mr. Friedman so that he discontinues using funds the government considers stolen for his research.

*Dr. Morris appears as if he wants to say more, but stops himself.*


MICHAEL (questioningly)
That's it? Why is the government so eager to get their hands on this guy now? They've obviously been checking up on him [he holds up the photos] for a while already. Why now? The government wants to get their hands on his research, don't they? Poor Miles, here, works for years perfecting this space-folding thingy while probably shunning all human contact and from the looks of it [looks down at the high school picture] personal hygiene as well just so the big boys in Washington can swoop on in and take it all away from him and use it for themselves?

*A beat.*


DR. MORRIS (with a penetrating stare that chills Michael)
Something like that.


MICHAEL
Okay, just so we're clear.

*The limo stops.*

DR. MORRIS
We're here. [looks over at Michael]
He should be in the bottom floor. I'll be waiting.

*Michael gets out of the car. A moment later, he knocks on the window. Dr. Morris leans over the towels to open the window.*


MICHAEL (wet again)
Can I at least have the umbrel-


DR. MORRIS (cutting him off)
No!


EXT. WAREHOUSE DISTRICT. *Michael looks up at the large brick building in front of him and enters it. The limo pulls away around the corner.*


INT. WAREHOUSE. *Michael walks through a huge, dark storage area, empty except for a few piles of boxes stacked in the middle of the room. The ceiling is one giant skylight, though somewhat dirty, and the rain is heard hitting the glass. Michael spots a staircase near the back of the room and heads toward it.*


EXT. WAREHOUSE. *Another stretch limo pulls up to the building.*


INT. PROJECT LIMO. *Dr. Morris surveys the new arrival.*


DR. MORRIS (as two muscular men step out of the new limo)
Mr. Wiseman. We have company. Try to hurry it up if you can.


INT. WAREHOUSE BASEMENT. *Michael looks ahead at the narrow hallway before him, unsure of which door to go into.*


MICHAEL
That's easier said than done, Doc.

*He listens for a moment, blocking out the rumble of the thunder, and continues down the hallway to the last room on the right side.*

I think I've found him.


INT. ROOM FROM TEASER. *Miles is making some entries on the keyboard of a apparatus set up in the corner of the room, a large metal cube connected to a seven foot tall, spiral tubing with a red sphere on its end pointed straight up toward the ceiling. Surrounding the center tube are half a dozen smaller ones, one-third its size. On hearing Michael's entrance, Miles turns around expecting someone else.*


MILES
Who the heck are you?


MICHAEL
Obviously, not Dr. Livingstone.


MILES (nervous)
What are you doing here? What do you want?


MICHAEL (making it up as he goes along)
Mr. Drake sent me.


MILES
I was expecting Frank.


MICHAEL
Frank couldn't make it. He has the flu.


MILES
He looks pretty healthy to me.

*He nods his head toward the door. The two men from the limo are standing in the doorway. They are giants dressed in suits.*

Hello, Frank. Johnny.


MICHAEL
Well, this is a problem. The lines of communication must have gotten crossed somewhere. I mean, why would Mr. Drake send both me and these two lovely gentlemen to see you?


FRANK
Who is this guy? [to Johnny] Do you know this guy, Johnny?


JOHNNY
I don't know this guy.


FRANK
Maybe he's a cop. Could be feds? You with the government?


MICHAEL (his expression reveals him)
Well, I-I-that is to say I...


FRANK
Johnny, frisk'em.


MICHAEL (holding up his hands to show he has no weapon)
Fellows, fellows, hold on now. I'm-When you said government-I just work for the IRS. Mr. Friedman has got himself a nice tax return coming to him this year.

*Frank and Johnny look at each, and Johnny pulls a gun out from the inside of his jacket. Michael kicks it out of his hand, and it slides across the floor. Johnny lunges for Michael as Frank takes out his gun. Johnny pulls Michael to the floor; Michael dodges a few punches before giving a few of his own. He tosses Johnny away from him. Frank is quite taken aback by Michael's ability. Stunned for a moment, he recovers and aims at Michael.*


MILES (to Frank)
NO! You'll hurt the device. It's taken me years to find the correct frequencies.


MICHAEL (as he tries to wrestle the gun away by squeezing Frank's wrist)
I wouldn't...get...too attached...to that thing if I were you.

*Michael loosens the gun from Frank's grip then bends it like rubber. Frank swings at Michael with his left hand, but Michael grabs that fist and holds back the punch. He pushes Frank back on top of Johnny who's coming to on the floor. Michael turns back to Miles, who is desperately trying to collect as many of the papers as he can from the desk. Loud footsteps are heard and voices echo through the hallway. A few agents and Dr. Morris appear at the doorway.*


DR. MORRIS
Everything under control here? [as agents head to the men in the opposite corner]


MICHAEL (out of breath)
Just peachy, Doc.

*Before the agents can subdue him, Frank knocks them back and jumps at Michael, pushing him into the center of the rings of tubes while simultaneously catching some wires with his feet. The red globe on the main tube begins to glow. Miles is lost to what he sees before him. Michael manages to push Frank off, and at that very moment, lightening hits the building. The device begins to surge, overloading. The ring of tubes creates a field of electrical energy provided by the new source of electricity. Michael is frozen to the spot. The lights in the rest of the building flicker on and off a few times, and a zapping noise emanates from the device. The onlookers stare in disbelief.*


AGENT #1
What is happening?

*Miles rushes the circle quickly, before it is too late. At the moment he enters the field, both he and Michael are engulfed in a burst of electrical intensity. In another instant, they are gone.*

AGENT # 1 (looking around)
Wh-Where'd there go?


DR. MORRIS
Mr. Wiseman! Mr. Wiseman!


CUT TO:
INT. DARK BEDROOM. *It is no longer raining; the night is clear and starry. The room itself can not be completely made out, but it seems vaguely familiar. Michael lies unconscious on the bed on top of the sheets. He's not in Kansas anymore.*

END OF ACT I