I went back and combed through everything I've written so far of this story and have found a few continuity inconsistencies between what I wrote/intended initially and what has actually come to pass/I'm now planning. For those few of you who were following this before or for anyone who has gone back and read what I've written thus far (even less likely), you might notice some of these inconsistencies and be puzzled. I was, too. I'm noticing now some of these problems and will do my best, once the story is fully written, to go back and clean it all up so it makes a little more sense.
Also, for anyone new who may be reading this, here are a few of the jargony terms of comic book scripting:
CHARACTER: (OP) means the character listed who is speaking is off-panel.
CAP: means caption, which is just like a little box, usually of expository information.
Splash page, if there will be any in this issue, are full page panels; some people call them poster shots...i call 'em splash pages (I just watched Sling Blade).
Anyway, the next three pages:
PAGE FOUR (six panels)
Panel 1. Interior of the car. We see the driver, wearing a Bill Clinton mask and the GOON in the passenger seat, wearing a Ronald Reagan mask; in the back seat, we see two men, one wearing a Jimmy Carter mask, the other John F. Kennedy. CRATERFACE CURTIS is the one w/ the JFK mask, and he is pulling it off of his face.
CURTIS:
Whose fucking job is it to case the marks before we hit ‘em? I know I’m new to this crew but I ain’t new to the game. We barely got our asses out of there intact with that big mother fucker sittin’ at the door!
Panel 2. GOON w/ Reagan mask, who from this point on we’ll just call REAGAN, turns back to CURTIS.
REAGAN:
Look, you mighta been somebody with Bronson, old timer, but you ain’t got the clout to talk that way around here. We run our crew the way we run our crew. That ain’t none of your concern. Follow?
Panel 3. Tight on CURTIS, who is obviously at his wits end with the juvenile insolence of his new compatriots.
NO DIALOGUE
Panel 4. The car pulling up outside of Van Cleef’s office. Two fellows standing guard at the door, but not too conspicuously.
CAP:
Van Cleef’s.
NO DIALOGUE
Panel 5. On the sidewalk as the men from the heist exit the vehicle. One of the two guards at the door motions for CURTIS to come closer.
GUARD:
Boss wants to see you.
Panel 6. Closer in on the guard as CURTIS passes him, headed into the threshold of the building. CURTIS is glaring with reserved contempt at the guard as he is stopped on his attempt to enter.
GUARD:
Leave the piece with me.
PAGE FIVE: (six panels)
Panel 1. Interior of VAN CLEEF’s office, which could not be any more the polar opposite of BRONSON’s office; if BRONSON is Don Corleone, VAN CLEEF is Tony Montana. VAN CLEEF is all about short-sighted decadence and his office should reflect that. His office should appear as though a coke-addled party ended the moment CURTIS walked in the door, complete with passed out strippers and paraphernalia strewn about. CURTIS enters, albeit hesitantly. VAN CLEEF is behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, feet up on the desk.
VAN CLEEF:
Just the man I wanted to see. Sorry about the heat in here. What can I say, I like it hot. I trust the job went well?
Panel 2. CURTIS, taking a seat at VAN CLEEF’s desk.
CURTIS:
Not exactly how I would’ve run the job, with all these fuckin’ kids, not much older than the fresh crust on their daddy’s jizz rag. Not much smarter, neither. But we made it through.
Panel 3. VAN CLEEF straightens up a bit to speak more candidly with CURTIS.
VAN CLEEF:
Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you’re not new to this business, Curtis. You an’ me come from another school than these two-bit morons I got workin’ for me now. These kids today, I don’t know what to do with them. They got no respect for the work. Maybe they’re in it for the thrill, I dunno. I pay ‘em well, maybe it’s the money.
Panel 4. Back on CURTIS, a nice tight shot on his face, slightly leaned down, looking up toward VAN CLEEF. We see a single bead of sweat rolling down his cheek; we don’t know if this is because of the heat or the weight of what CURTIS anticipates VAN CLEEF to be getting at.
VAN CLEEF: (OP)
That’s what I like about you, Curtis. You respect the work. You understand how things in our world operate. You respect the business.
Panel 5. Now on VAN CLEEF again, who we see opening and reaching into the top center drawer of his desk.
VAN CLEEF:
What I don’t get…
Panel 6. VAN CLEEF, brandishing a Beretta 92, chrome plated with a mother of pearl grip. He’s not necessarily pointing it at CURTIS, but making it well known to him that he could kill him at any moment without any considerable effort.
VAN CLEEF:
…is why you would leave a cushy job as Bronson’s first pick on big money jobs to come work bullshit pawn jobs with my bottom tier screw up fuckwads. Care to clarify for me?
PAGE SIX (three panels)
Panel 1. Back in the kitchen with GUY, who is still tied to the chair, beaten and bloody, telling us our story.
GUY: (to reader)
At this point, I know you might feel a little lost. Like I said, I’m still piecing it together, myself, but trust me, it’s going to make sense.
Panel 2. Still on GUY.
GUY: (to reader)
Well, as much sense as a story about a bunch of paranoid grand theft gangsters can make, anyway.
Panel 3. A nice, big panel of our closing image from last issue: GUY behind the bank, abandoned by CURTIS and the rest of the crew (that rhymes!).
CAP:
“But, getting back to the bank job…”
GUY:
Shit.
-Aaron J.
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