THE EVIL DEAD: THE SERIES Episode One "Trick or Threat"
TEASER
1994.
FADE IN
in the living room of one Ashley J. Williams, Esquire.
He is a ruggedly good-looking man, with dark hair and a prominent chin. His right hand is made of grey steel, resembling the glove from a suit of armor. Other than that, he looks reasonably normal.
He sits on a remarkably ugly plaid couch, a few holes in which have been patched over. Behind him on the wall is a Dogs Playing Poker tapestry. Books are 'shelved' in milk crates beside the couch, with titles ranging from 'Biker Chicks From Mars' to 'Advanced Chemistry' to 'Tobin's Spirit Guide'.
Ash sits with his feet up on the table... or, more accurately, a big industrial spool that doubles as a table... and munches on the contents of a torn-open bag of microwave popcorn.
The lights are off, the flicker of his TV set providing the only illumination in the room.
On the TV set, a black and white film is playing: "Night of the Living Dead", with panicking humans looking out of a boarded-up farmhouse at the undead zombies approaching them.
Ash rolls his eyes and flicks the remote control.
"It's Alive! Alive!!!" Dr. Frankenstein cries out triumphantly.
Ash flicks the remote again.
"Even a man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night..." a gypsy warns Lon Chaney.
Ash flicks it again. "Come on, fer cryin' out loud, there's got to be something on that's NOT a friggin' horror movie."
Freddie Krueger grins mischievously and wiggles the fingers of his razor-tipped glove.
Flick.
Jason Voorhees, clad in hockey mask, stalks some unwary and horny teenagers.
Flick.
An army of skeletons moves toward a medieval castle.
Flick.
Michael J. Fox stares in a mirror as he transforms into Teen Wolf.
Flick!
Ash looks down at the remote, crushed in half by his mechanical hand. "Dammit, third one this month," he says.
On the TV set, evil aliens on a cardboard set discuss Plan 9, something involving the revival of the dead. Ash starts to reach over to turn off the TV, but his doorbell rings.
He sighs and heads to answer it, grabbing a bowl of candy that he has placed on the table (okay, the crate) beside the door. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbles.
He throws open the door.
Instead of some kids in Halloween costumes, he finds himself face-to-face with something that doesn't seem to have much of a face... more like a cluster of eight-inch fangs, with glowing yellow eyes above them and a mop of scraggly black hair. It is covered with a thin layer of fur; its vaguely humanoid body is thin and wirey, clad only in shredded dark jeans, and bat-like wings protrude from its shoulderblades. Its holds up its hands, revealing foot-long claws. It stares at Ash and, near as can be made out from its grotesque face, seems to smile.
"Um... care for a Snickers bar?" Ash asks.
FADE OUT.
OPENING CREDITS ROLL.
A collection of a fast-paced montage of clips from the Evil Dead Trilogy, with the following narration by Bruce Campbell: "My name is Ash, and I fight the forces of evil. I didn't ask for the job, I didn't want the job, and I can't get rid of the job. Lucky me."
The screen goes to black, and bright red blood streams down the screen, forming a logo that reads "Evil Dead: The Series"
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
TITLE CARD: "Trick Or Threat"
ACT ONE
FADE IN
Ash slams the door shut and rolls back as the creature slashes its claws, breaking through the door with troubling ease.
The creature lets out a deafening screech as it tears the rest of the way through the door. Ash dives over to reach behind the couch, and pulls up a shotgun.
"You've got two seconds to take of that mask and just be some punk kid, otherwise I'm blowing your balls into neighboring states," Ash growls.
The creature lunges toward him, and Ash fires a shot, blasting it in the shoulder.
The creature falls backwards.
Ash eyes it skeptically. "That can't have been all it took," he says to himself.
The creature leaps back to its feet. By the time it lunges toward Ash again, it shows no signs of the wound.
"Thought that was too easy," Ash says as he ducks.
CUT TO:
Three people watch these events on a video monitor, which appears to be looking down at Ash and his opponent from ceiling height.
One of the figures is a stocky man with thinning brown hair and an ill-fitting tweed suit. He swings a fist enthusiastically as the creature takes another swipe at Ash. Beside him stands an elegant, beautiful woman with high cheekbones, and waist-length blonde hair. She is dressed in a dark business suit, and wears reflective sunglasses. She reveals no emotions whatsover. Behind them, seated in a large leather chair behind an enormous onyx desk, is a figure hidden in shadows.
"Anybody want popcorn?" the stocky man asks.
CUT TO:
Ash reels back. As the creature shrieks again, he jams his shotgun directly in its mouth and pulls the trigger. Its head blows apart, spattering gore on the "Hills Have Eyes" poster on the wall behind it.
Then, as Ash reloads his shotgun, its head pulls back together, healing in seconds.
The creature hisses.
Ash grimaces and swings the butt of the shotgun, knocking its head back. Ash then jams it into the creature's chest. "You've got to have SOME vulnerable spot, gruesome..."
One of its hands grabs hold of the barrel of the shotgun before Ash can fire again.
It pulls the weapon out of Ash's hands and tosses it aside.
CUT TO:
The chamber where the three figures watch.
"It's gonna win, Mr. Z," the stocky man says happily. "I tell ya, it's gonna kick his ass..."
"I wish I shared your confidence, Mr. Fisk," the shadowy figure says with a haughty, indeterminate accent. "Pity I'm too intelligent to do so... What do you think, Oracle?"
"Williams has defeated demons more powerful than a Reaper before," the blonde woman says somberly. "The advantage of surprise doesn't seem to have benefitted the creature as much as Mr. Fisk thought it would."
"Aw, come on," Fisk says, "Ash has got to let down his guard sometime!"
"Not if you keep throwing hideous beasts at him," Oracle replies evenly. "It's built his paranoia to a fevered pitch."
CUT TO:
Ash's living room, the creature shreds a pillow Ash throws at it, then does likewise for a book he flings.
Ash looks around desperately and dives for a toolbox in the corner.
The Reaper howls again, spreading its wings despite the fact there is no way it could fly in such a confined space.
Ash pulls a crucifix out of the toolbox and holds it up.
The Reaper stares at it curiously, then bites suddenly, taking Ash's mechanical hand into its mouth along with the religious artifact.
Ash pulls his hand out, breaking some of the creature's teeth loose in the process.
Ash flicks his mechanical hand distastefully, trying to get some of the abundant saliva off of it. "You scratched my hand, thumbdick," he grumbles.
Ash reaches back into the toolbox and pulls out a silver knife, which he flings at the creature. It imbeds in the Reaper's shoulder, and the creature hisses in pain, then pulls the knife out and flings it back at Ash, who narrowly dodges it.
Ash grabs at a vial and splashes holy water on the creature.
No effect.
The Reaper chuckles menacingly.
"You don't mind if I try that again, do you?" Ash asks, pulling another vial from the the toolbox. He flings the contents of it.
The Reaper screams and claws at its face as steam rises from its flesh.
"Note to self," Ash says as he gets to his feet, "holy water no, sulfuric acid yes."
Above them, a red light on top of a smoke detector on the ceiling shifts in place almost imperceptibly as a hidden camera focuses at the combatants.
CUT TO:
"Aw, crud," Fisk says, watching the monitor. "Don't tell me he beat it already."
"He wounded it," the shadowy figure says. "But it looks as if he depleted his supply of acid."
"And in so doing, he made the Reaper mad," Oracle adds. "Not something one wants to do with a creature like that."
FADE OUT.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
ACT TWO
FADE IN
The Reaper bellows, the steam still rising from its scorched face. Where it was once hideous, it now looks even worse, one eye partly melted and scars and blisters running down its throat.
There is a knock at the still-opened and partially broken front door.
Ash and the Reaper look in that direction.
A five year old boy dressed as Casper the Friendly Ghost peers in. "Never mind," he says meekly, clutching his trick or treat bag close.
The Reaper turns its attention back to Ash, who kicks it in the chest, knocking the creature back onto his couch.
Ash grabs a book from the crates by the couch and runs into another room, slamming the door shut behind him.
CUT TO:
Fisk sighs. "Well, hell, we only managed to sneak that one hidden camera into the big dumbass's apartment. If they move off into other rooms, we'll never see what happens."
"Sometimes it's better not to know," the shadowy figure replies coldly. "If you see the opponent's tactic, you simply observe. No more intelligence than that of an animal is required. But if you imagine what tactics the opponent MIGHT be using, you use your own mental power..."
"Sure," Fisk says uncertainly.
"And when I say 'your', I'm not referring to you, Mr. Fisk," the shadowy figure adds. "After all, mental energy requires a mind. I merely mean that by figuring out his possible tactics, one can come up with tactics of one's own."
"Sure," Fisk says a second time.
CUT TO:
Ash huddles in the bathroom, flipping pages of a book frantically.
"Come on, come on," he says, "bat wings, bat wings..."
It is an old book, the pages brown with age, and each page has an illustration of some horrible creature along with text.
Ash pauses at a page with a bat-winged succubus, a beautiful nude woman staring seductively. "No, it couldn't be HER coming after me..."
The door cracks as the Reaper throws its body against it.
Ash flips the pages again.
The Reaper breaks through and lunges toward Ash. Ash reaches up and grabs the mirror above the sink, actually the door of the medicine cabinet, and swings the door out to smash into the creature's face.
As it screams and tries to brush slivers of glass out of its remaining eye, Ash runs past it back into the living room.
"At least you're vulnerable to some attacks," Ash says as he throws open a cabinet. Behind him, the creature comes out of the bathroom. Its acid burns are beginning to heal back, and its damaged eye is regrowing.
"Or not," Ash adds as he reaches into the cabinet and pulls out his trusty chainsaw.
The Reaper leaps at him as Ash pulls the cord on the saw.... which sputters and starts for a second, then stops.
Ash swings the flat edge of the chainsaw, striking the monster in the face and knocking it to one side, then pulls on the cord again. Nothing.
"Outta gas?? Aw, come on!"
Ash looks over at a gas canister in the cabinet, but it seems unlikely the creature will pause long enough to let him refill the chainsaw's tank.
CUT TO:
Fisk does a happy dance, as if he were watching his team win the Super Bowl.
"Sit DOWN," the shadowy figure demands.
Fisk smiles awkwardly and complies, dropping into one of the seats beside the desk.
CUT TO:
The apartment.
In the black and white film on the TV set, the alien Eros (who looks suspiciously like an actor in a cheap outfit) warns a small group of Earthlings of the dangers of the Solaronite bomb.
Meanwhile, in the real world, Ash swings his non-functioning chainsaw again, and the Reaper dodges. It swings the back of its hand, knocking the weapon out of Ash's hands.
The Reaper vaults onto Ash, knocking him to the ground in front of his entertainment center.
Ash looks up at the creature's vile excuse for a face. "Two words for you, big guy," he says. "Breath Savers."
The Reaper hisses.
"You see? You see?" the alien Eros cries out on the TV set. "Your stupid minds! Stupid, stupid!"
Ash knees the creature in the groin.
The Reaper screams and rears back. Then, Ash throws his legs over the creature's shoulders.
"That's all I'm takin' from you!" one of the Earthlings on the TV set warns Eros, moving in to slug him.
Ash locks his legs around the creature's neck and slams it headfirst into the TV screen.
The Reaper smashes through the picture tube, then lets out a howl like never before.
Ash rolls to one side as electricity arcs across the creature's body and it goes into seizures, then bursts into flames and slumps.
Ash gets to his feet. "Electricity," he says to himself. "Yeah, I knew that would do it."
The smoke rising from the Reaper's body sets off the smoke alarm.
Ash stares up at it. "Yeah, yeah, I heard ya," he says.
CUT TO:
The monitor screen, which shows Ash unknowingly staring directly into the hidden camera.
Fisk winces. "Aw, crap."
He then looks back over his shoulder, bracing himself.
"In the year since he returned from Kandar, Mr. Williams has managed to defeat every demon, she-hag, ghoul and night terror we've thrown at him," the shadowy figure says impatiently. "And what do we have to show for all that effort, all those spells cast?"
"Well, he's crazier than when we started," Fisk offers. "I think."
"Tampering with the dark forces is no easy task, you realize," the shadowy figure replies. "I want some results for the dangers of tapping into the nether realm. You know how important it is that we capture Mr. Williams." Then, his voice icy cold, the figure adds, "You don't want my master plan to fail, do you, Mr. Fisk?"
"N--n-no," Fisk wimpers.
"If I may offer a suggestion," Oracle says.
"By all means," the shadowy figure replies. "YOURS is an opinion I respect."
" A wiser tactic would be to hold back, lull him into false confidence," she says. "Wait until he least expects it, then strike suddenly."
"Indeed?" the shadowy figure asks, intrigued by the notion. "You may be on to something there, my dear. After all, I can be extraordinarily patient... it took me more than a century to bring the Medici family to ruin."
Fisk looks to the monitor screen, where Ash is taking a fire extinguisher to the creature's remains.
"So, what are we talkin' about in the case of Ash, a few months?" Fisk asks.
"Years would be more effective," Oracle says. "Decades even more so."
On the monitor screen, Ash fills his chainsaw with gas, then starts it up and moves toward the body of the creature.
The shadowy figure taps his fingers on the desk. "I'd say we declare Mr. Williams to be off-limits, make sure no creatures of the night go after him for the next five years or so. Then..." the figure chuckles... "All Hell breaks loose."
FADE OUT.
.
.
.
.
.
.
END CREDITS ROLL to footage of Ash hauling out several bags of garbage to the curb in front of his apartment building.
"Say, Williams," one of his fellow tenants says, "I thought I heard gunshots last night."
Ash shrugs. "Sorry, I had the TV on too loud."
"And a chainsaw?"
"It was Halloween, they were showing that creepy movie," Ash replies. "The one with the farmhouse."
"Well, just be more considerate next time," the neighbor says. "Some of us have to get up early for work."
Ash nods, then looks down at the trash bags. A clawed hand sticks out of one of the bags.
Ash looks around to make sure no one noticed, then turns the bag so the hand cannot be seen, and whistles nonchalantly as he goes back into his apartment building.
FADE OUT.
TEASER
1994.
FADE IN
in the living room of one Ashley J. Williams, Esquire.
He is a ruggedly good-looking man, with dark hair and a prominent chin. His right hand is made of grey steel, resembling the glove from a suit of armor. Other than that, he looks reasonably normal.
He sits on a remarkably ugly plaid couch, a few holes in which have been patched over. Behind him on the wall is a Dogs Playing Poker tapestry. Books are 'shelved' in milk crates beside the couch, with titles ranging from 'Biker Chicks From Mars' to 'Advanced Chemistry' to 'Tobin's Spirit Guide'.
Ash sits with his feet up on the table... or, more accurately, a big industrial spool that doubles as a table... and munches on the contents of a torn-open bag of microwave popcorn.
The lights are off, the flicker of his TV set providing the only illumination in the room.
On the TV set, a black and white film is playing: "Night of the Living Dead", with panicking humans looking out of a boarded-up farmhouse at the undead zombies approaching them.
Ash rolls his eyes and flicks the remote control.
"It's Alive! Alive!!!" Dr. Frankenstein cries out triumphantly.
Ash flicks the remote again.
"Even a man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night..." a gypsy warns Lon Chaney.
Ash flicks it again. "Come on, fer cryin' out loud, there's got to be something on that's NOT a friggin' horror movie."
Freddie Krueger grins mischievously and wiggles the fingers of his razor-tipped glove.
Flick.
Jason Voorhees, clad in hockey mask, stalks some unwary and horny teenagers.
Flick.
An army of skeletons moves toward a medieval castle.
Flick.
Michael J. Fox stares in a mirror as he transforms into Teen Wolf.
Flick!
Ash looks down at the remote, crushed in half by his mechanical hand. "Dammit, third one this month," he says.
On the TV set, evil aliens on a cardboard set discuss Plan 9, something involving the revival of the dead. Ash starts to reach over to turn off the TV, but his doorbell rings.
He sighs and heads to answer it, grabbing a bowl of candy that he has placed on the table (okay, the crate) beside the door. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbles.
He throws open the door.
Instead of some kids in Halloween costumes, he finds himself face-to-face with something that doesn't seem to have much of a face... more like a cluster of eight-inch fangs, with glowing yellow eyes above them and a mop of scraggly black hair. It is covered with a thin layer of fur; its vaguely humanoid body is thin and wirey, clad only in shredded dark jeans, and bat-like wings protrude from its shoulderblades. Its holds up its hands, revealing foot-long claws. It stares at Ash and, near as can be made out from its grotesque face, seems to smile.
"Um... care for a Snickers bar?" Ash asks.
FADE OUT.
OPENING CREDITS ROLL.
A collection of a fast-paced montage of clips from the Evil Dead Trilogy, with the following narration by Bruce Campbell: "My name is Ash, and I fight the forces of evil. I didn't ask for the job, I didn't want the job, and I can't get rid of the job. Lucky me."
The screen goes to black, and bright red blood streams down the screen, forming a logo that reads "Evil Dead: The Series"
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
TITLE CARD: "Trick Or Threat"
ACT ONE
FADE IN
Ash slams the door shut and rolls back as the creature slashes its claws, breaking through the door with troubling ease.
The creature lets out a deafening screech as it tears the rest of the way through the door. Ash dives over to reach behind the couch, and pulls up a shotgun.
"You've got two seconds to take of that mask and just be some punk kid, otherwise I'm blowing your balls into neighboring states," Ash growls.
The creature lunges toward him, and Ash fires a shot, blasting it in the shoulder.
The creature falls backwards.
Ash eyes it skeptically. "That can't have been all it took," he says to himself.
The creature leaps back to its feet. By the time it lunges toward Ash again, it shows no signs of the wound.
"Thought that was too easy," Ash says as he ducks.
CUT TO:
Three people watch these events on a video monitor, which appears to be looking down at Ash and his opponent from ceiling height.
One of the figures is a stocky man with thinning brown hair and an ill-fitting tweed suit. He swings a fist enthusiastically as the creature takes another swipe at Ash. Beside him stands an elegant, beautiful woman with high cheekbones, and waist-length blonde hair. She is dressed in a dark business suit, and wears reflective sunglasses. She reveals no emotions whatsover. Behind them, seated in a large leather chair behind an enormous onyx desk, is a figure hidden in shadows.
"Anybody want popcorn?" the stocky man asks.
CUT TO:
Ash reels back. As the creature shrieks again, he jams his shotgun directly in its mouth and pulls the trigger. Its head blows apart, spattering gore on the "Hills Have Eyes" poster on the wall behind it.
Then, as Ash reloads his shotgun, its head pulls back together, healing in seconds.
The creature hisses.
Ash grimaces and swings the butt of the shotgun, knocking its head back. Ash then jams it into the creature's chest. "You've got to have SOME vulnerable spot, gruesome..."
One of its hands grabs hold of the barrel of the shotgun before Ash can fire again.
It pulls the weapon out of Ash's hands and tosses it aside.
CUT TO:
The chamber where the three figures watch.
"It's gonna win, Mr. Z," the stocky man says happily. "I tell ya, it's gonna kick his ass..."
"I wish I shared your confidence, Mr. Fisk," the shadowy figure says with a haughty, indeterminate accent. "Pity I'm too intelligent to do so... What do you think, Oracle?"
"Williams has defeated demons more powerful than a Reaper before," the blonde woman says somberly. "The advantage of surprise doesn't seem to have benefitted the creature as much as Mr. Fisk thought it would."
"Aw, come on," Fisk says, "Ash has got to let down his guard sometime!"
"Not if you keep throwing hideous beasts at him," Oracle replies evenly. "It's built his paranoia to a fevered pitch."
CUT TO:
Ash's living room, the creature shreds a pillow Ash throws at it, then does likewise for a book he flings.
Ash looks around desperately and dives for a toolbox in the corner.
The Reaper howls again, spreading its wings despite the fact there is no way it could fly in such a confined space.
Ash pulls a crucifix out of the toolbox and holds it up.
The Reaper stares at it curiously, then bites suddenly, taking Ash's mechanical hand into its mouth along with the religious artifact.
Ash pulls his hand out, breaking some of the creature's teeth loose in the process.
Ash flicks his mechanical hand distastefully, trying to get some of the abundant saliva off of it. "You scratched my hand, thumbdick," he grumbles.
Ash reaches back into the toolbox and pulls out a silver knife, which he flings at the creature. It imbeds in the Reaper's shoulder, and the creature hisses in pain, then pulls the knife out and flings it back at Ash, who narrowly dodges it.
Ash grabs at a vial and splashes holy water on the creature.
No effect.
The Reaper chuckles menacingly.
"You don't mind if I try that again, do you?" Ash asks, pulling another vial from the the toolbox. He flings the contents of it.
The Reaper screams and claws at its face as steam rises from its flesh.
"Note to self," Ash says as he gets to his feet, "holy water no, sulfuric acid yes."
Above them, a red light on top of a smoke detector on the ceiling shifts in place almost imperceptibly as a hidden camera focuses at the combatants.
CUT TO:
"Aw, crud," Fisk says, watching the monitor. "Don't tell me he beat it already."
"He wounded it," the shadowy figure says. "But it looks as if he depleted his supply of acid."
"And in so doing, he made the Reaper mad," Oracle adds. "Not something one wants to do with a creature like that."
FADE OUT.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
ACT TWO
FADE IN
The Reaper bellows, the steam still rising from its scorched face. Where it was once hideous, it now looks even worse, one eye partly melted and scars and blisters running down its throat.
There is a knock at the still-opened and partially broken front door.
Ash and the Reaper look in that direction.
A five year old boy dressed as Casper the Friendly Ghost peers in. "Never mind," he says meekly, clutching his trick or treat bag close.
The Reaper turns its attention back to Ash, who kicks it in the chest, knocking the creature back onto his couch.
Ash grabs a book from the crates by the couch and runs into another room, slamming the door shut behind him.
CUT TO:
Fisk sighs. "Well, hell, we only managed to sneak that one hidden camera into the big dumbass's apartment. If they move off into other rooms, we'll never see what happens."
"Sometimes it's better not to know," the shadowy figure replies coldly. "If you see the opponent's tactic, you simply observe. No more intelligence than that of an animal is required. But if you imagine what tactics the opponent MIGHT be using, you use your own mental power..."
"Sure," Fisk says uncertainly.
"And when I say 'your', I'm not referring to you, Mr. Fisk," the shadowy figure adds. "After all, mental energy requires a mind. I merely mean that by figuring out his possible tactics, one can come up with tactics of one's own."
"Sure," Fisk says a second time.
CUT TO:
Ash huddles in the bathroom, flipping pages of a book frantically.
"Come on, come on," he says, "bat wings, bat wings..."
It is an old book, the pages brown with age, and each page has an illustration of some horrible creature along with text.
Ash pauses at a page with a bat-winged succubus, a beautiful nude woman staring seductively. "No, it couldn't be HER coming after me..."
The door cracks as the Reaper throws its body against it.
Ash flips the pages again.
The Reaper breaks through and lunges toward Ash. Ash reaches up and grabs the mirror above the sink, actually the door of the medicine cabinet, and swings the door out to smash into the creature's face.
As it screams and tries to brush slivers of glass out of its remaining eye, Ash runs past it back into the living room.
"At least you're vulnerable to some attacks," Ash says as he throws open a cabinet. Behind him, the creature comes out of the bathroom. Its acid burns are beginning to heal back, and its damaged eye is regrowing.
"Or not," Ash adds as he reaches into the cabinet and pulls out his trusty chainsaw.
The Reaper leaps at him as Ash pulls the cord on the saw.... which sputters and starts for a second, then stops.
Ash swings the flat edge of the chainsaw, striking the monster in the face and knocking it to one side, then pulls on the cord again. Nothing.
"Outta gas?? Aw, come on!"
Ash looks over at a gas canister in the cabinet, but it seems unlikely the creature will pause long enough to let him refill the chainsaw's tank.
CUT TO:
Fisk does a happy dance, as if he were watching his team win the Super Bowl.
"Sit DOWN," the shadowy figure demands.
Fisk smiles awkwardly and complies, dropping into one of the seats beside the desk.
CUT TO:
The apartment.
In the black and white film on the TV set, the alien Eros (who looks suspiciously like an actor in a cheap outfit) warns a small group of Earthlings of the dangers of the Solaronite bomb.
Meanwhile, in the real world, Ash swings his non-functioning chainsaw again, and the Reaper dodges. It swings the back of its hand, knocking the weapon out of Ash's hands.
The Reaper vaults onto Ash, knocking him to the ground in front of his entertainment center.
Ash looks up at the creature's vile excuse for a face. "Two words for you, big guy," he says. "Breath Savers."
The Reaper hisses.
"You see? You see?" the alien Eros cries out on the TV set. "Your stupid minds! Stupid, stupid!"
Ash knees the creature in the groin.
The Reaper screams and rears back. Then, Ash throws his legs over the creature's shoulders.
"That's all I'm takin' from you!" one of the Earthlings on the TV set warns Eros, moving in to slug him.
Ash locks his legs around the creature's neck and slams it headfirst into the TV screen.
The Reaper smashes through the picture tube, then lets out a howl like never before.
Ash rolls to one side as electricity arcs across the creature's body and it goes into seizures, then bursts into flames and slumps.
Ash gets to his feet. "Electricity," he says to himself. "Yeah, I knew that would do it."
The smoke rising from the Reaper's body sets off the smoke alarm.
Ash stares up at it. "Yeah, yeah, I heard ya," he says.
CUT TO:
The monitor screen, which shows Ash unknowingly staring directly into the hidden camera.
Fisk winces. "Aw, crap."
He then looks back over his shoulder, bracing himself.
"In the year since he returned from Kandar, Mr. Williams has managed to defeat every demon, she-hag, ghoul and night terror we've thrown at him," the shadowy figure says impatiently. "And what do we have to show for all that effort, all those spells cast?"
"Well, he's crazier than when we started," Fisk offers. "I think."
"Tampering with the dark forces is no easy task, you realize," the shadowy figure replies. "I want some results for the dangers of tapping into the nether realm. You know how important it is that we capture Mr. Williams." Then, his voice icy cold, the figure adds, "You don't want my master plan to fail, do you, Mr. Fisk?"
"N--n-no," Fisk wimpers.
"If I may offer a suggestion," Oracle says.
"By all means," the shadowy figure replies. "YOURS is an opinion I respect."
" A wiser tactic would be to hold back, lull him into false confidence," she says. "Wait until he least expects it, then strike suddenly."
"Indeed?" the shadowy figure asks, intrigued by the notion. "You may be on to something there, my dear. After all, I can be extraordinarily patient... it took me more than a century to bring the Medici family to ruin."
Fisk looks to the monitor screen, where Ash is taking a fire extinguisher to the creature's remains.
"So, what are we talkin' about in the case of Ash, a few months?" Fisk asks.
"Years would be more effective," Oracle says. "Decades even more so."
On the monitor screen, Ash fills his chainsaw with gas, then starts it up and moves toward the body of the creature.
The shadowy figure taps his fingers on the desk. "I'd say we declare Mr. Williams to be off-limits, make sure no creatures of the night go after him for the next five years or so. Then..." the figure chuckles... "All Hell breaks loose."
FADE OUT.
.
.
.
.
.
.
END CREDITS ROLL to footage of Ash hauling out several bags of garbage to the curb in front of his apartment building.
"Say, Williams," one of his fellow tenants says, "I thought I heard gunshots last night."
Ash shrugs. "Sorry, I had the TV on too loud."
"And a chainsaw?"
"It was Halloween, they were showing that creepy movie," Ash replies. "The one with the farmhouse."
"Well, just be more considerate next time," the neighbor says. "Some of us have to get up early for work."
Ash nods, then looks down at the trash bags. A clawed hand sticks out of one of the bags.
Ash looks around to make sure no one noticed, then turns the bag so the hand cannot be seen, and whistles nonchalantly as he goes back into his apartment building.
FADE OUT.