FBI agent Baylis Earl Nitz sits at a bar, a cigarette in his mouth, a whiskey in his hand. The bar around him has been wrecked – broken chairs, over-turned tables, smashed glasses and bottles, blood on the floor. There’s obviously been a huge brawl here, and now almost everyone else has cleared out. In the background we can see a doorway leading through to the pool room and we can just make out that a man has been tied, spread-eagled, to the pool table though we can only make out his feet from this angle. Dashiell Bad Horse stands over this man, holding a broken pool cue – about to go to work.
Close on Nitz. He takes a drink from his whiskey. His cigarette sits on the corner of an ash tray on the bar. Behind him (off-panel), the man on the pool table starts screaming.
Man (O/P): No – no, please… please… I’ll tell you anything… please…
Still close on Nitz, listening. He sets the glass down on the bar. A slight smile flickers across his lips.
Man (O/P): Pleeeeaaaaaarrrghhhhhhhhhh!
Same again. The cigarette is in Nitz’s mouth again. He’s rubbing his eye with a hand, looking a little bored now.
Man (O/P): No – no – no – noooaaaauuuurrrrggghh!
Same again. Nitz is picking his teeth with a toothpick now. His cigarette is ground out on the bar.
Behind him, Dash Bad Horse walks back into the main bar, wiping bloody hands on his jeans.
Dash doesn’t reply. Nitz turns to face him.
Nitz: Did you get the information I need?
Looking pissed off, Dash turns and walks back into the pool room.
Dash: Fuck. I knew there was something...