Disney's Guns - Screenplay - Part III

Previously:

Disney's Guns - Part I
Disney's Guns - Part II

Nikov (echo): Turn you into tin cans... Turn you into tin cans... Turn you into tin cans.

We see a terrified Magnum in close up carried by plastic gloves. Zoom out to reveal a series of scientist types with white masks and plastic over clothes each carrying a single gun along a walkway. We hear mechanical doors and a bubbling pool, growing louder and louder. Zoom out further to reveal a large vat of grey, molten liquid in the foreground. Guns are squealing briefly as they are hurled into into the mass and disolve.

Magnum: No, please no! I've got so much to live for! Don't do this to me!

Sinister laughter comes from behind us. We pan round to a higher up walkway, upon which we see the lower body of the Iranian carrying Fedorov Cei-Rigotti, the machine gun which killed Bud. Fedorov cackles.

Fedorov: Nobody escapes the pit, Magnum, not even you.

Magnum: No!

He is flung towards the vat, and we plunge in with him.

We hear Magnum sobbing, as we pull out of the green cloth bag, left unzipped on the dark stained carpet in Mara's bedroom.

Nikov: Woah, woah! What's gotten into ya, little fella?

Magnum: Bad dream.

Nikov: Ah, Magnum. I know all yah can about nightmares. Sometimes I see 'em comin' for me and it gives me the sweats. Yah never can get over it, but yah do learn to live with it.

Magnum: Have you ever seen it?

Nikov: Seen what? The factory? Heeell no, and I ain't never gonna. Ah'm too old an' rusty fah tin cans. They'll pro'lly just stick me in a museum or somethin'.

Magnum: But how can you bear it? The thought of never being able to kill again?

Nikov: Killin'? Is that what you think we're for? You think Mara uses us for murderin' innocent people?

We see Mara sat at the desk beside them, circumaural headphones over his head, playing GTA on his PC. He grunts. On the wall in front of him is a poster for Oldboy

Magnum: Nobody's innocent, Nikov, you know that.

Nikov: Oh, mah young gun, yah have so much to learn about life. (Illustrated by flashbacks of Nikov in his youth) We shooters didn't always used to be about killin' and blurd. I remember the days when it was all about self-defence. People used to leave us out on the mantlepieces and point us out to the neighbours and say, "That there, Nikov, he's gonna save our lives one day!". Ladies would keep young pistols like you in their handbags along with their makeup and mirrors as if we was just a little security blanket. We were rarely loaded, and if we were it was with sweets and marshmallows, or pretty firecrackers for hallowe'en. Usin' guns for killin'? What a world!

Magnum: I don't... believe you. I don't... get it. Killing is what we're made for. Why did the great Cannon give us bullets if it was not to kill?

Nikov: Ah think its time to show you somethin'. Hey! Smith! Wesson! You get yerselves out here, will ya?

Two giggly little pistols come out of the bag, Smith and Wesson. They scamper around the edges of the bag, leaping across the carpet.

Smith: Hey old timer! Whassup?

Wesson: Yeah! Wassup, blunderbuss?

Nikov: Old timer, eh (he chuckles)? Blunderbuss? That's a good 'un, Wesson, and make no mistake. I think it's time we took the new boy down to see the gallery. Will you go get the young master for me?

Smith and Wesson scamper towards the desk, and jump up.

Smith: The gallery!

Wesson: Yeah! The gallery.

Magnum: Nikov? What's the gallery?

Nikov: You'll see. I think your gonna like it.