CUT

<[Organ music: "Take Me Out To The Ball Game"]

[Chatter from baseball team as they practice.]

Player 1 - All right, let's go, you guys.

Player - Okay.

Player 1 - Come on. Hustle it up.

Player - All right, Barry, Give me your best.

Barry - Right.

[meanwhile, in stands]

Carl - [into phone] Hey, man, it's simple. They either want me or they don't. What are you, my agent or my mother? I'm telling you, fifteen's not going to cut it.> I want twenty million or by the time spring training ends, I'm going to be playing for Steinbrenner... Hey, that's not my problem. Let the old man sell some more cars, all right? [takes pen from young boy for autograph]

Fan - Over there! [runs up to them] Carl Robinson! There he is! Hey, Carl!

Carl - [signs paper for young boy, continues phone conversation] Look, I've got to go. All right, later. [closes phone, turns to Fan and other teens] All right, all right. Hold up. Hold up. Back up. Back up. Who's first here? [takes baseball from teen girl, scoffs] Hey, you know what? This looks like the one Griffey hit off me last year. Who you guys rooting for, anyway? [laughs, signs ball]

Trey - You're looking pretty good out there today, Carl.

Carl - PRETTY good?

Trey - Could be better. [Carl tosses autographed ball to teen, takes Fan's ball, starts signing it.] You gotta learn to pull the string, throw the change. You follow me? You can't do it all with heat. If they start timing you, you're done.

Carl - Oh, is that a fact? [scoffs]

Trey - Hell, yes, it's a fact! [intercepts ball Carl tosses toward Fan] It's been a fact since I was in the minors. If you weren't so arrogant, maybe you'd know that.

[Carl senses 'buzz', sees Corman on roof of stadium.]

Trey - [continuing in background] It's the motion {??}, you see? It's the fastball, you see?

Carl - [turns back to Trey, distracted] Hey, Trey, will you give the kid the ball?

Trey - The hitters get so far out in front, they don't know whether they're coming or going, huh?

Carl - Look. Later, Trey. I've got some things I've got to take care of. Take care, kids! [leaves]

Trey - And I don't? You think I was born in a swamp?! [calls after him] I was in the minors ten years, Carl! I caught Maddux, and Johnson, and Smoltz. I know things! [spits on ground, sticks cigar in his mouth] Know-it-all son of a bitch. [gives autographed ball to Fan]

Corman - [as Carl comes out of roof access door] Well, if it isn't the great Carl Robinson. Nice threads, man.

Carl - <Yeah, I'll give you the name of my tailor.> CUT Look, what do you want?

Corman - [mocking] Your autograph, star-man. Like, I just totally can't live without it. [serious] Saw you playing on TV the other night. [taps Carl on the chest] You've got a problem with southpaws.

Carl - Yeah, so?

Corman - So... [draws his sword, left-handed] I'm a southpaw. [swipes blade at Carl]

Carl - [ducks, draws sword] Look, man. Are you crazy? You've got the wrong place and the wrong time. I ain't lookin' for no trouble.

Corman - Yeah, well, surprise, man, 'cause you just found it. [attacks. Carl blocks twice.] Oh-and-two. Excellent. [Fight continues.]

[meanwhile, in parking lot]

Fan - [drooling over Carl's Lamborghini] Oh, man! Look at this car! It's so cool! [opens driver-side door] It's fantastic.

[Corman's headless body falls off the stadium roof. Fan and teen girl look up as Quickening erupts. They run back to the stadium. Players & Trey come out as well. They all stare at Corman's body, then up at Carl on the roof.]

Carl - No! No, you don't understand!
 

[Northwest Ledger newspaper headlines:

Media Deal Blocked by Feds
Star Pitcher Hunted in Gruesone Slaying (with photo of Carl)
Driver Jailed for Fatal Crash
Serial Arsonist Sought]

[DM lowers newspaper as he enters empty dojo... and is surprised to find a young boy standing in front of him.]

DM - How did you get in here?

Talbot - [scoffs] You MacLeod?

DM - I may be. And who are you supposed to be?

Talbot - I'm asking the questions here. [holds out folded piece of paper]

DM - What's this? [takes paper]

Talbot - You can read.

DM - Well, I'm working on it. Maybe if you go real slow, I can-- [looks at paper, trails off]

[Paper reads: Laker Warehouse / Carl]

DM - --look at the pictures. [as Talbot bolts for the door] Hey, what-- Wait-- Where'd you get-- Come here! [chases him] Damn it. Come here-- [runs into Glenda]

Glenda - Hey, hey, hey!

DM - I'm sorry.

Glenda - And where you put those hands. [pushes his hands away from her waist]

DM - Uh, yeah. I'll try. [motions toward the door] On my way out.

Glenda - Apology accepted. I get lots worse on the subway, believe me. I could show you marks. [looks around empty dojo] So, is this place open for business or what?

DM - Yeah, um--

Glenda - Couldn't tell by the clients. I mean, I mean, who's gonna join a dump in this condition? [picks up briefcase from floor]

DM - That's mine. Thanks. [takes it from her]

Glenda - Yuck! What it needs? Fixing up, big-time.

DM - Yeah. Um, uh, I'm really busy--

Glenda - You think I'm kidding?

DM - No.

Glenda - You know it.

DM - Mm-hmm.

Glenda - I know it. Only, the dork who owns the joint? Not a clue.

DM - And you could sort him out, huh? [pulls her toward the exit]

Glenda - Bet your cute buns I could. [stops him with her hands on his chest] So, where do I find this, uh, Neanderthal?

DM - You're looking at him. We're closed. [walks toward exit]

Glenda - [to herself, cringing] Ouch. ¹

[DM gets out of T-bird.]
 

[Camera pans from corner of cabinet up and ^A across countertop to warehouse entrance.]

Carl - [as DM enters] Nice suit.

DM - Nice neighborhood.

Carl - Yeah, well, the penthouse was getting a little boring. Thought I needed a change. I call it Chez Carl's. What do you think?

DM - I think you've looked better.

Carl - Well, I sure as hell have felt better. How is it out there? [DM hands him the newspaper.] Oh.

DM - Yep. TV, newspapers, talk shows -- Carl Robinson, wanted for murder. You got good coverage, Carl. Did everything but take out an ad.

Carl - Oh, come on, man! You think I wanted this?! Punk didn't give me any choice!

DM - Well, it doesn't really make much difference now, does it?

Carl - You know where I was last week, Mac? Having dinner with the mayor and the governor. Talked about my game. Fastball. Then they asked me if I ever thought about going into politics. [chuckles] You hear what I'm saying, Mac? Politics! And they wanted me -- me, Carl Robinson! CUT

<DM - Yeah. Well, I guess you always did have lousy timing.

[Carl rests his head on his hand, then moves his hand to his chin as scene transitions to:]
 

Carl - Well, I don't know. Guess I'll just have to settle for something else. You know, I get me an education, I could be a politician. [laughs] Pass some laws, make some changes -- yeah, that'd be something, wouldn't it? Slave to President to the big leagues, all in one lifetime.>
 

(resume previous scene)

[Carl continues leaning against pole as DM continues.] ²

DM - Come on, man, look. The only ones that are after you now are the cops. Put it behind you.

Carl - Oh, yeah, sure. What the hell, huh? I've only been waiting for this for, what -- two, three lifetimes? Now it's over. Gone.

DM - Look, it's time to move on.

Carl - With what? I can't get to my money. I use my name, my credit cards, they'll throw my ass in jail. My face is all over the place.

DM - Come on. We'll use my place. We'll figure something out. It'll be better than this hotel. [turns to leave]

Carl - Hey, Mac-- Wait a minute. I don't want to drag you into this.

DM - I'm already in it. [They clasp hands.]

[Man is photographing outline of body on the ground. Various police & detectives chatter indistinctly. A car pulls up to the scene.]

Frayne - [to cop] Fed.

Matthew - [approaches, holding up badge] Matthew McCormick, Special Agent. I'll be taking it from here, gentlemen.

Frayne - You're the serial killer guy.

Matthew - Among other things. But "serial killer guy" will do. [pulls latex glove on, crouches by body outline]

Frayne - There's only been one murder here.

Matthew - A very high profile murder, gentlemen. Let's just say there's a certain pressure to wrap it up quickly... and to make sure it stays wrapped. [picks up something from the ground, looks at it] Nobody wants to screw up one of these things again. Do they? [slips small fragment of cloth into evidence bag] Let me guess. Murder weapon was a very sharp object. Don't suppose you found it?

Frayne - No.

Matthew - Thought not. And nobody knows where Carl Robinson is, hmm?

Frayne - No.

Matthew - I wouldn't worry. [opens trunk of car, puts evidence bag inside -- next to a sword -- closes trunk, pulls off glove] I think we'll find him. [hands glove to Frayne, gets in car] ³

[DM is driving Carl back to dojo.]

Carl - It just ain't fair, man.

DM - Nobody said it was.

Carl - I watched them all try and fail-- Malcolm, Martin. I swore to myself that if I ever had a chance, I was going to make a difference. Then some hotshot kid comes along and throws my whole life in the crapper.

DM - You still HAVE your life, Carl.

Carl - [sarcastic] Oh, yeah, right.

DM - Look, you listen to me. You start over. Go to a new country, new people, and after a few years, you try again.

Carl - What, from the bottom?

DM - Hey, it's more than most people get.

[DM pulls car to a stop a short distance from where cops and cop cars block the alley.]

Carl - Aw, man! How the hell did they know?!

DM - Someone did their homework. Your tax dollars at work. Hold on. [starts turning T-bird around. They sense 'buzz', as Matthew, down by the cops, turns, sensing 'buzz' as well.]

Carl - All right. Damn it, Mac. Get me out of here, now! Go!

DM - Easy, Carl. [drives them away]

DM - At any time, you can tell me what's going.

Carl - You know what the hell's going on. Cops, is what's goin' on. [gets out of car]

DM - There was an Immortal with them, Carl. [gets out of car] What's he got to do with you?

Carl - His name's Matthew. Matthew McCormick. He's a Federal agent.

DM - And what else?

Carl - Well, Mr. McCormick and I, we go back a ways. Matthew used to own me.

[Super: Louisiana, 1859]

[Instrumental by Jim Byrnes plays in background.]

<Carl - [voice-over] I'd been a slave so long, Mac, seems like it's all I can remember.

[Carl pushes wheelbarrow loaded with grasses/plants next to field of same.]

Carl - [voice-over] I was a hard worker. It was never enough. I was always a stubborn Negro.

Carl - [as another slave adds armful of grass bundles to wheelbarrow] What you doin' there, Skinny? You see I got me a full load. [puts wheelbarrow handles down, takes extra grass bundles back off] Now, why don't you just take yourself on and wait for the next bin, now, hear?

Carl - [voice-over] Bought and sold so many times I lost count. Seth Hobart was the latest one.

[Man on horse & couple in buggy approach field.]

Carl - [voice-over, chuckles] And he liked being master. [Seth dismounts from horse.] Then somebody went and knocked up Hobart's youngest daughter.

Seth - [to daughter in buggy] Which one was it? Huh? You point him out now.

Carl - [voice-over] She had to name somebody.

Seth - [as daughter points to random slave (Carl)] This one here?

Carl - [voice-over] So she said it was me.

Seth - Robinson! Robinson, you son of a gun!

Carl - Yes, sir.

Seth - Did you defile my daughter?

Carl - No, sir.

Seth - Don't you lie to me! [hits Carl with crop]

Carl - Massa, please! Massa, please! Don't, sir! Please, don't! [grapples with Seth, pushes him down, takes off running across field]

Seth - Come back here, you son of a bitch!

Carl - [voice-over] Hell, nobody listened to me. Nobody had to.

Seth - [chases Carl across field] Come back here, you--

Carl - [as Seth catches up to him] Don't shoot, Mr. Hobart! Please! [Seth shoots him in the back, he falls with a cry. Seth rolls him over with his foot, confirms he's dead, walks away.]

Carl - [voice-over] Shot me in the back. Left me for dead. Only thing was... [Carl inhales, opens his eyes.] I couldn't die.>

Carl - [voice-over] I ran for days. I didn't know why I was still alive. I just knew that for the first time, I was free. [Carl grabs billy can from campfire, shovels food into his mouth.] 'Course, the reality was, dead or alive, I was still a slave. [Gun cocks nearby.] And freedom didn't last too long. [Carl looks up as hunter shoves rifle barrel into his back.]

[Carl is manacled and being led down road by two men on horseback.]

Carl - [voice-over] CUT These guys were-- They were looking for a reward for bringing in a runaway slave, or they were just gonna sell me for whatever the market could bear. That was when I felt it. [Carl reacts to sensing 'buzz as Matthew rides down dirt road toward them.] It was the first time I'd ever run into an Immortal. It was McCormick. Man, he used to come by the plantation all the time. He was married to Hobart's oldest daughter.

<Matthew - Good afternoon. Looking for another boy for my spread. Interested in your fella, there.

Carl - [voice-over] At first, they weren't interested.

Matthew - [pulls money bag out of coat pocket] Oh course, I-- I'm willing to pay. [tosses bag to one of the hunters. Hunter weighs the bag in his palm, exchanges a look with his companion, shakes his head. Matthew chuckles.] You must be awfully attached to him. [tosses over another money bag]> CUT

Carl - [voice-over] Matthew bought me. He paid twice what I was worth. [The hunters nod to each other, drop Carl's rope, ride off.] I didn't know what the hell to make of him. But I sure the hell thought I was dead. [The two hunters gallop away down dirt road, whooping.]

<Carl - Mr. Matthew, sir, you gotta let me explain. [Matthew dismounts from horse.] I didn't mean to run away. It was Mr. Hobart. He -- he wanted to kill me! You gots to understand! [as Matthew walks toward him] No, please, sir. Please, whatever you do, just don't take me back there. Just don't take me back! All right, Mr-- [Matthew pulls out a sword.] Oh, God, no. [kneels on the ground] Oh, sweet Jesus. Please, sir. Please! Don't! You got to let me live!> CUT

[Carl raises his bound hands over his head as Matthew swings the sword down. The sword hits his manacles, breaking them apart. Carl looks at the broken manacles in shock. Matthew smiles at him.]

Carl - [enters empty bar with DM] Now he wants to kill me.

DM - Why now, when he could have taken you back then?

Carl - What the hell difference does it make?

[Joe is playing blues on his guitar, looks up & acknowledges their presence, finishes song & sets guitar aside.]

CUT

Carl - You trust him?

DM - I have to. He knows about us. Everything. Come on.

Joe - [comes toward them] Hey. Joe Dawson. Let's just say I have a soft spot for Immortals.

Carl - Well, I guess anybody who can play Delta blues like that can't be too shabby.

Joe - Thank you, sir. You know, I'd have to say the same thing about anybody who could strike out Ken Griffey Jr. twice in one game. [Carl smiles, then laughs, shakes Joe's hand.] Come on. Let me, uh, show you this accommodation, all right?

DM - I'll catch you later.

Joe - Yeah.

Carl - Where are you going?

DM - Back to my place to talk to McCormick.

Carl - Give it a rest, Mac. You're wasting your breath.

DM - Hey, what's to lose?

Carl - Oh, I don't know. Your head.

DM - That's reassuring. [walks toward exit]

Carl - [calls after him] Mac. The guy's good with a sword. He taught me moves that I'm still working on.

DM - Then maybe he can teach me something. ^B [leaves as Carl & Joe exchange a look] ⁴
 

[Matthew is sitting in chair at desk, playing with a slinky.]

DM - [enters dojo] Matthew McCormick, I presume.

Matthew - That's "Special Agent" to you.

DM - You're in my office. And you're in my chair. And I don't remember inviting you.

Matthew - [still playing with slinky] You know what I like about these? If you had enough stairs, they'd just go on forever.

DM - Unless they're stopped.

Matthew - Kind of like us, hmm?

DM - No. [pushes Matthew's feet off desk] Just like us.

Matthew - I checked you out, MacLeod. Far as I can tell, we're not gonna have a problem.

DM - Oh, there's just one. You're after Carl Robinson.

Matthew - I'm to serve the state. Catch a killer, the world's a better place. Don't you think?

DM - For who? You know what he is.

Matthew - Serial killers, cannibals, mad bombers-- Psychopaths come in all shapes and sizes, Mr. MacLeod, and it makes no earthly difference to me, because my job's simple. I bury them.

DM - Yeah, but there's no murder here. It was a fight between Immortals. He had no choice.

Matthew - Maybe not this time, but this time I will have him.

DM - For what? Carl Robinson's no murderer.

Matthew - Oh, well, we have a verdict from Judge MacLeod. Or are you the whole jury? Let me tell you a little something about your good friend, Carl Robinson. He's a murdering bastard. And he always has been.

[Instrumental by Jim Byrnes plays in background.]

Matthew - I wish we had more time, Carl, but the South is gonna make a stand. With war coming, it's just no good for a black man on his own.

Carl - Oh, no need to explain to me, Mr. Matthew. I got me a whole back full of reasons why I shouldn't stay down here. Still, I don't know. Something about the South I'm gonna miss. That seem strange to you?

Matthew - It's not gonna be a whole lot easier out there, you know.

Carl - [scoffs] You're telling me. But I know what I am now. Know how to survive. You taught me that.

Matthew - You'd have done the same.

Carl - No, sir. No, sir, I wouldn't. See, you taught me something else... that not every white man uses a whip. CUT You've been more than my teacher. You've been a friend.

Matthew - I reckon your best bet is to head north... for Chicago, maybe even New York.

Carl - Yeah. Yeah, soon enough. Just got a few things I've got to finish up.

Matthew - Do any of those things have a name?

Carl - Now, this ain't none of your concern, Mr. Matthew.

Matthew - The hell it isn't. If you're talking about Seth Hobart, you can just forget it. You stay away from him, you hear!

Carl - The man is pure evil -- him and his son. He shot me down!

<Matthew - You are Immortal, Carl. It is time to put away mortal concerns. CUT What else have I taught you, hmm? Forgiveness. Forgiveness is the power that breaks the chains of bitterness and the shackles of selfishness.> And decency is something else you've got to learn.

Carl - Are you defending him?

Matthew - What I am is married to his daughter. You leave him be, Carl. You don't, I'm going to hunt you down. You have my word on that. Are you listening to me?

Carl - Yes, sir. I hear you. [walks away across ramshackle pier]

Matthew - Carl? Carl!

[Carl walks slowly along, head down, features obscured by large straw hat.]

Seth - [rides up behind him on a horse] You there! You! Get your black ass back to work or there'll be hell to pay!

[Carl shakes his head, keeping his gaze on the ground.]

Seth - [to horse] Whoa, whoa, whoa. [dismounts, storms toward Carl] You turn around when I'm addressing you! [Carl turns, looks at him. Seth gapes in shock.] Sweet Jesus. [Carl takes off straw hat, still glaring at Seth.] Robinson!

Carl - Afternoon, Mr. Hobart. You feeling all right? You're looking a mite peaked.

Seth - You're dead! I shot you!

Carl - Am I? Could a dead man do this? [snatches crop from Seth's hand] Huh? Or this? [hits Seth with crop] Or this? [hits him again] How do you like it, Mr. Hobart, huh? [Seth reaches for his gun. Carl grabs the hand with the gun.] Oh, no. I'm strong, Mr. Hobart. I got strong working in your fields... Toting your loads... No more, Mr. Hobart! [turns gun toward Seth] No more! [shoots Seth in the torso. Seth falls with a gasp.]

Clayton - Daddy! [comes toward them]

Carl - You keep out of this, boy. This here's between me and your daddy.

Clayton - You murdering nigger! Murdering nigger! [runs toward Carl. Carl shoots him.]

Carl - No more.

[Instrumental by Jim Byrnes plays in background.]

[Carl throws gun to ground beside the two bodies.]

DM - Did you kill those men, Carl?

Carl - You're damn right I did. MacLeod, Hobart owned me, same as a plow or a mule. You know what that means? You have any idea? Beat me when it suited him. Whipped me like I was a damn dog, and I had no say about it, 'cause it was his right.

DM - You should have left it alone.

Carl - Oh, yeah, right. You gonna tell me what I should have done? You were never a slave.

DM - I'm not telling you what you should have done. Once you became Immortal, you stopped being a slave. You're one of us now.

Carl - Look, I didn't go there meaning to kill him, but am I sorry I did? No. And if you can't understand that, why don't you just go to hell with the rest of them.

<[Wind whistles through empty stands, blowing bits of trash around. Trey sits on steps, with a ball and glove.]

Trey - [voice-over, thinking] Best damn pitcher this team's ever seen. I don't know what the hell we're going to do without him. He's-- [sighs] Oh, Jesus.

[Trey stops tossing ball into glove, takes cigar out of his mouth, drinks some whiskey from a small bottle.]

Trey - [voice-over, thinking] He's supposed to pitch on Tuesday. Tuesday, for crying out loud.

[Trey sets empty whiskey bottle down, picks up newspaper.]

[Northwest Ledger newspaper headlines:

Dollar Makes Slow Gain
Manhunt Continues for Baseball Star / Witnesses Sought in Gruesome Murder (large photo of Carl)
Council Rejects Development Plans
Court Rules Ex Security Chief Unjustly Fired]

Announcer - [voice-over, creeping into the background] {Davis.} Here's the wind-up. Strike.

Trey - [voice-over, thinking] Jesus, Carl.

Announcer - [voice-over, in the background] {You've got to believe he's} pumped up right now.

Trey - [voice-over, thinking] God, we need this guy.

Announcer - [voice-over] Here we go. {??} back to the mound. This could be it. Robinson picks it up. Throws it to first. Oh! A no-hitter, ladies and gentlemen. Robinson has just thrown a no-hitter. The crowd is loving it.

[Trey goes back to tossing ball into glove.]>

[Carl walks down alley. Cop car pulls into alley behind him.]

Cop - [on bullhorn] Hold it right there, Robinson!

[Carl freezes, turns. Cop gets out of car, walks toward him. Carl spins around, starts running, jumps over hood of second cop car that appears to block the alley entrance. Carl keeps running. Cop & cop car follow. Carl reaches a chain link fence blocking his way. He scales it, gets tangled in trash on other side, cops catch up to him.]

Cop - Hold it.
 

Man - [in background, off screen] That's right, Ms. Shodden. We'll have a car around there later this afternoon. All right.

Matthew - Look at the rage, the anger, the injustice of it all. Just like every other killer I ever brought in. Doesn't matter -- young, old, rich, poor -- they're all the same. You'd never even know he was one of us. [hands mugshot to DM]

DM - Yes, but he IS one of us. He killed in self-defense. Corman challenged him.

Matthew - I don't give a damn about Corman. Hobart was my wife's father.

DM - Is this about justice or revenge?

Matthew - I would have thought a man like you would understand. There's no statute of limitations on murder.

CUT

DM - Come on. You can't condemn him for something we all do. [Matthew gives him a look.] Things happen in an investigation. Evidence goes missing all the time. Somebody drops the wrong glove... you know.

Matthew - You're not asking me to throw this case.

DM - I'm asking you to do something about this. He CAN'T go to prison. How long do you-- [cuts himself off, waits for person to walk past them] How long before they find out about him? About all of us?

Matthew - I wouldn't worry about that. I don't think Carl's going to make it to trial. [Frayne approaches, whispers in Matthew's ear, leaves.] Well, it's a strange world indeed.

DM - Look, McCormick--

Matthew - Save your breath, MacLeod. Somebody's just confessed.

Cop - [off screen, in background] Sit down and be quiet, all right?

Matthew - And it wasn't Carl Robinson.

Cop - [off screen, in background] Sit right there.

[Frayne & another detective lead Trey Franks off. Matthew follows.]

Carl - What the hell difference does it make? Because he was drunk? Maybe he's just plain crazy. [follows DM out of elevator] Who the hell knows why Trey Franks does anything. All I know is, I'm out of there.

DM - You think it's right to let Trey take the rap for you?

Carl - Right? What the hell does right have to do with anything? Man, this whole immortality crap is a joke. Every time, I mean every time I was set to get somewhere, be somebody, bam! Something comes along and knocks me on my ass. Now, MacLeod, a gift has dropped out of the sky, and you want me to throw it away?

DM - No, I just want you to get an innocent man out of jail.

Carl - Oh, yeah, right. How am I supposed to do that, huh? Just tell the truth, right? Keep it nice and simple?

DM - Nothing is simple, and nothing is easy. But you ARE going to do this, right?

Carl - Look, MacLeod, when this whole thing happened, my life ended. Now I have it back. I'm Carl Robinson again!

DM - Oh, Carl the hero. That must be great.

Carl - Mac, I can DO things. I can make a difference.

DM - Yeah, and Trey can't?

Carl - Aw, come on, man. The man is a nobody. He is nothing. Less than nothing.

DM - Like Carl the slave was? Hmm?

Carl - You don't even want to go there.

DM - Oh, yeah? Why not? Because you suffered? How much you got in the bank, Carl?

Carl - What difference does that make?

DM - Five, six million dollars, a nice apartment, that nice Lamborghini.

Carl - Is there some point you're trying to make here, MacLeod?

DM - Yeah. Why don't you give the tortured crap a rest? Your slave days are long gone.

Carl - All right. Why don't we look at it this way. This is probably the best thing that ever happened to old Trey, and I'll tell you something. If that man wants his time in the sun, I'm going to give it to him.

DM - Not good enough.

Carl - It'll have to do.

DM - [stops Carl with a hand on his chest] Why don't you come down to the station and tell old Trey that?

Carl - You take your hand off me.

DM - I'm not done.

Carl - I'm done. [explodes into action, knocking DM's hand away. Fist-fight ensues.]

DM - [after knocking Carl down] Come on!

Carl - [wincing] All right! Give me your hand. [DM offers his hand, pulls Carl to his feet. Then Carl head-butts him and fight resumes.] You want some more? Huh? You want some more? Come on!

DM - [throws Carl through office windows, shattering them] Get up. 'Cause I'm not finished.

Carl - [lying on his back amongst glass fragments] All right. All right! I'll go. Come on. Help me. Give me your hand.

DM - Yeah, I'll give you a hand. [twists Carl's arm painfully]

Carl - Oh! Oh, MacLeod!

DM - Not twice. [Carl screams as DM applies more pressure.] Well?

Carl - Come on, MacLeod!

DM - Your word.

Carl - I'll go! [DM doesn't release him.] MacLeod-- [DM releases his arm.]

Glenda - [off screen] Yoo-hoo! Anybody home? [enters dojo] Came to see if you thought about renovating. We could put the steam room over here.

[DM pushes Carl back down with his foot at Carl's neck.]

Carl - [choking] Come on!

Glenda - I took the liberty of jotting down a few ideas. Some aerobics over there. We could do with a little bou... tique. [gapes at the destruction around the room from their fight] Oh. Oh, my.

Carl - [harsh whisper] MacLeod--

DM - It's a great idea.

Carl - [harsh whisper] MacLeod--

DM - Just couldn't wait to get started.

Carl - [harsh whisper] Aah. Can't breath! ⁵

DM - [sitting uncomfortably next to Carl, waiting] We should have gone through his lawyers.

Carl - Don't worry. They'll let us see him.

DM - Oh, you're pretty sure of that, aren't you?

Carl - Hey, I'm the star, remember?

Frayne - Mr. Robinson? [Carl stands. Frayne looks up at him uncomfortably, holds out baseball.] It wouldn't be... too much trouble? [Carl takes ball.] To Jerry. He's my boy.

Carl - [to DM] Got a pen?

DM - So let me get this straight, Trey. You killed him because he owed you money?

Trey - And he wouldn't pay, so I went after him.

DM - And you killed him with a big knife.

Trey - More like a... sword... kind of thing. Look, I already told this to the cops.

DM - And, uh, after you killed him, Carl came along, and he got caught.

Trey - That's right. That's what happened.

DM - Did you hate this guy, Trey?

Trey - Yeah, I guess. Pretty bad.

DM - Hmm. So how come you lent him money, this guy you hated so much?

Trey - I did it! Why don't you just believe me?

DM - Because it's not true.

Trey - I ain't talking anymore. [turns away]

[DM gives Carl a look. Carl moves to sit in front of Trey.]

Carl - Trey. You know you didn't do this. No, ah-- Trey. You know it, and I know it, and you've got to tell the police.

Trey - And then they'd come after you.

Carl - Yeah, maybe. But you can't throw your life away.

Trey - I don't got a life to throw away. Look, it's not like I don't know what I am. I KNOW what I am. I'm a joke. White trash. I can't play ball, I can't-- There was a time once, I thought I had something... I must have been dreaming, hmm? See, all I've been, all my life, is a zero.

Carl - Trey...

Trey - We both know it. Look. Growing up, I hated guys like you -- rich, black, smarter than me -- and then I met you. I seen you play, seen the way you treat people... what you had inside you. And I stopped hating you. I wanted you to win. More than anything, I wanted to help you win.

Carl - I know you did, Trey.

Trey - You gotta hear me, Carl. See, it was the first good thing I ever wanted. If you can change someone like me, think what you can do with your life. All the good things.

Carl - But you know, man. You saw.

Trey - If you had to do it, you must've had a good reason. The world loses Carl Robinson, it's worse off. But Trey Franks? There's no POINT to Trey Franks. Let me do this, Carl. Please. It's all I got.

[Carl tosses baseball in air, hits it with bat. Repeats with more balls.]

DM - It won't go away, Carl.

Carl - Damn him. [hits another ball] Cracker-ass son of a bitch!

DM - It's not Trey you gotta look at. It's you.

Carl - [hits another ball] Damn him, MacLeod! I tell the truth, I lose everything. Everything I hoped for, everything I dreamed. [sighs, drops bat, pulls off batting glove] Looks like I don't have very many options, do I?

[Both sense 'buzz', look around.]

DM - Looks like you don't have any.

[Matthew slowly walks down stairs in stadium toward them.]
 

Matthew - This isn't for you, MacLeod. You know why I'm here. [to Carl] You should have gone north, Carl.

Carl - Maybe so. What happened in Louisiana happened. I can't take that back.

Matthew - No, you can't. But you can pay for it.

DM - Look, the world's different. People have changed. Carl's changed.

Matthew - Did you imagine redemption came that easily?

Carl - No, what I imagined was there was some justice in what I did. The men I killed were slavers.

Matthew - Those men were my friends! I told you I'd come after you. [draws his sword] Here I am. [Carl draws his sword.]

DM - Who wins here if one of you dies?

Matthew - A man avenges his own, MacLeod. CUT

DM - [incredulous] You think you're honor bound to do this? Your honor won't be served by Carl's death. Just your pride. And your vanity. There is no justice, no redemption.

Matthew - I gave my word!

Carl - Look, I don't hold this against you, Matthew. You do what you have to, just like I did what I had to. I just have one favor to ask you.

Matthew - What?

Carl - IF you win this, don't you let Trey take the rap for me. The man thinks he's a piece of garbage, but he's not. Nobody's garbage. You tell him that. Tell him his life has a point. Can I trust you to do that?

[Matthew nods.]

DM - Listen to what he's telling you. Listen to what he's asking you. Look at him. Is this the man you want to kill?

Carl - Get out of there, MacLeod!

[Carl & Matthew face off, start to move.]

DM - You can forgive him! You can forgive him!

[Matthew & Carl hold position, looking at each other.]

Frayne - The test was positive. Bloodstains match the murder victim's. Robinson's prints are all over it.

Matthew - If I had a crystal ball right now, you know what I'd see. I'd see you doing ten to twenty -- aiding and abetting, accessory to murder. CUT

<DM - All I did was bring it in.

Matthew - Well, then you must know where he is.

DM - No, sorry--

Matthew - Tell me, MacLeod! Or I will book you right now.>

[Matthew's unmarked car leads cop cars and SWAT team to warehouse. They take up positions around the warehouse.]

Matthew - Time to make yourself scarce, Mr. MacLeod. This could get ugly.

DM - Let me talk to him, see if I can settle this peaceably.

Matthew - He's already murdered one man, maybe more.

DM - Look, just three minutes. That's all I ask.

Matthew - That's all you've got. [raises his voice to cops/SWAT] Mr. MacLeod is going in.

DM - [calling out to warehouse] Carl!

Carl - [off screen, from inside warehouse] That you, MacLeod?

DM - I'm coming in! I'm unarmed! [walks toward warehouse, hands raised, enters warehouse]

DM - [to Carl] You ready for this?

[Carl slides pump on shotgun in reply.]

[Cops & SWAT all stand ready, weapons pointed toward warehouse exit.]

DM - [off screen, in warehouse] It's MacLeod. I'm coming out. [exits warehouse, holds hands up, returns to Matthew] He won't listen. He said he won't go to jail for the rest of his life.

Matthew - All right. Brace yourselves, people. This one is going down hard.

[Carl slams open warehouse door, walks out with shotgun in hand.]

Frayne - Drop it, Carl! Freeze!

Matthew - Easy! Easy, now. [calls out to Carl] Carl Robinson! Throw down your weapon. Put your hands behind your head! [Carl rests shotgun barrel against his shoulder, walks down stairs from warehouse exit.] Unless you're looking to commit suicide, Robinson, you'll put it down. Drop the weapon. For the last time, you drop that weapon!

[Carl walks a few steps toward them, shotgun in his hands, then raises it to his shoulder & takes aim.]

DM - Carl, no!

[Cops and SWAT open fire. Carl falls. DM & Matthew exchange a look.]

Matthew - [to DM] It's clear. [DM & Carl sneak out of morgue.] Let's go. This "window" only stays open for five minutes.

DM - Now that you're dead, the police aren't looking for you anymore, and Trey's free.

Carl - Yeah, great. [to Matthew] Did you have to let them shoot me so many times? Felt like the O.K. Corral.

Matthew - Awful sorry.

DM - Quit complaining, would you? You still have your head.

Carl - Yeah. It's freezing in there.

DM - Yeah, well, it's the morgue. At least you're still fresh.

Carl - You know, you're real funny, MacLeod. [looks down at scrub top he's wearing] Hey, who picked out these clothes, anyway? Your mother?

DM - [to Matthew] You should have killed him.
 

DM - [enters empty stadium] Trey.

Trey - I don't have to talk to you.

DM - No, you don't.

Trey - If it wasn't for you, he'd still be alive. They had me, dammit. I confessed!

DM - Yeah, but you didn't kill anybody, did you?

Trey - No. I didn't save nobody either, did I?

Carl - [enters stadium] You're wrong, there, Trey.

Trey - Oh, my God.

Carl - Yeah. I'm alive. Look, don't try to understand it, Trey. Just accept it.

Trey - You shouldn't be here. It ain't safe.

Carl - Yeah, I know. Look, Trey, I'm not going to be coming back here for a long time.

Trey - Well, take care, then. [turns away] Don't forget to keep pulling the string, huh?

Carl - Yeah, I'll work on that.

Trey - [turns back] And you got trouble with southpaws, too.

Carl - Oh, is that a fact?

Trey - Hell, yes, it's a fact. If you weren't so arrogant, maybe you'd know it.

Carl - I'll work on that, too. [shares a smile with Trey] Thanks, Trey.

Trey - Yeah, what for? I didn't do nothin'.

Carl - CUT You did a good thing. I won't forget it. Don't you forget it either.

DM - It's time to go. [leaves with Carl]

[Trey watches them go, walks to pitcher's mound, picks up baseball. Organ music & crowds cheering can be heard in the background as he tosses the ball in the air.]