The Wind Whispering Hints

Like pin-pricks in black velvet the stars began to show themselves in the twilight, magically appearing as the sun waxed away upon the horizon. The hum of streetlights began their chorus as they were programmed to do; night was approaching and the streets needed lights to keep the evil at a bare minimum.

Mags was standing on the balcony of her apartment; she was dressed in fine regal clothing, an evening dress, her hair pulled back into a bun. The scent of expensive perfume wafted around her like a delicate spark.

The breeze coming in from the north brought a hint of winter to come. But at the moment she didn't want to think about the near future or the past; it was the here and now that she was focusing on. It had been a long time since she had prettied herself up for a socialite occasion.

Right Here, Right Now

Cue Music.

EXT. SPACE - DARK
Blackness.

Fade in just as the vocals start, we get a POV from space and then the camera view is pulled in by gravity. It focuses in on a city, and then zooms right in on MAX CUBE.

POV as the camera orbits around MAX.

MAX is standing on the rooftop, a slight drizzle is falling, he is wearing a long coat, he has his guns out, and he is listening to the song that is continuing to play in the teaser.

His eyes are closed, his head bobbing with the music. A cigarette dangles from his mouth.

CUT TO 
Roof door as it opens up.

Knee Shot of feet stepping out onto the roof. 

Even though his eyes are closed and he is listening to his ipod he lifts up his right arm and aims towards the door, not pulling the trigger.

VOICE: (calling)
Showtime.

MAX lowers the gun and he flicks open his eyes.

Close up on MAX's Eyes.

They are cold and intense like diamonds on black velvet.

The Innocence of Time

"You got it?" Mark asked. He straightened up as he saw Max come around the corner. He was leaning up against the wall. He felt like he had just come into some big money, and didn't know what to do with it.

Max nodded and showed it to him, then he closed his fatigue jacket. He fished a package of smokes out of one of the many pocketst.

"Alright!" Mark replied in celebrated glee. "So are we going?"

"I think so," Max replied. He unwrapped the cigarette package and offered one to Mark who took one and immediately lit it. Max took one out and closed the pack of Morte and put them back in his jacket pocket. 

"Is Crew showing up?" Mark asked, took a long puff from the cigarette, held it in for a few more seconds then exhaled like a pro. "I called his place and his old lady said he was busy doing something or other."

"Beats me," Max said. He lit the cigarette and took a puff. 

"Would be a bummer, man," Mark said. "This is our last summer together. We should enjoy it while we can."

"Time is an illusion," Max quipped. 

"Lunch time doubly so," Mark added. 

A car drove by filled with young ladies, hooting and hollering with the stereo blasting the pop song of the day, some Canadian group with a pop syrupy sound. Max hated it, but the girls in the car seemed to be singing it with joyful glee.

The Unbearable Likeness of Being Max

"Immobile," Max repeated.

The three hitmen stood around him, glancing at each other. Max stood up and brushed himself off. Thug lowered his gun and shrugged; he really didn't know what to make of the situation.

"What was that?" Thug asked.

"Yeah," Goon emphasized by smacking his fist into the palm of his hand.

"The sum of your victory depends on your mathematical problem solving," Max stated. He gauged the three men, he knew he had the situation well under control, he just wanted to play them. Curious to see how far he could take them.

"Let's quit stalling," Mook said. "Let's do this and get it over with."

"You're immortal behaviour depends on the input of the design," Max told Mook. He could feel the bullet in his arm, working out. He was willing it to dislodge, and it seemed to be working.