SIX

Written by

David Broyles & William Broyles

First Draft
May 13, 2015
May 22, 2015
EXT. JALALABAD, ESTABLISHING - NIGHT

A massive US military base surrounded by snow-covered

mountains.

ON SCREEN: AFGHANISTAN, 2010

We go CLOSER. Behind a maze of HESCO barriers: a few tents.

WOMAN’S VOICE (V.O.)

Father Bob had the kids choir
singing carols by the door. And it
worked. We sold fifty cupcakes in
an hour.

We go inside.

INT. SEAL TEAM TENT - NIGHT

John “Bear” GRAVES, 31, watches the screen while he cleans

his HK416 assault rifle. Despite his powerful frame, Graves
exudes a restrained, monk-like stillness, every movement
controlled.

GRAVES
What was the sermon about?

His wife, LENA, 30, flickers on the computer screen. In

contrast to Graves, she seems to be in a state of perpetual
motion.

LENA
Greater love hath no man than this,
that he lay down his life for his
friends.

GRAVES
John, chapter fifteen, verse
thirteen.

LENA
Right.
(then)
Hey, you remember those names we
were talking about?

Trying to hide her excitement, Lena gets up, revealing the

sun-lit domestic life a world away from Graves’s spartan
surroundings.

Graves focuses on his rifle, reassembling it in seconds.

Receiver. Bolt. Snap. Click. CLUNK.
 5/22/15 2

When he looks up again, Lena is holding up a SONOGRAM.

LENA (CONT’D)
Well, meet Sarah.

Graves stares at the black and white image of the embryo,

thunderstruck.

Lena watches as his face slowly cracks into a huge smile.

Then he puts down his rifle, takes out his earphones, and
turns behind him.

GRAVES
Hey everybody. It’s a girl. We’re
having a baby girl.

Decorated for Christmas, we see the rest of the tent now,

where the men of SEAL TEAM SIX occupy themselves with the
chores and distractions of downtime in the war-zone.

Graves’s announcement garners congratulations and ribbing,

back slaps, ad-libbed greetings to Lena on screen, etc.

Ropey and lean, Alex CAULDER, 29, has his legs up on a ratty
lazy-boy chair, playing XBOX on a huge flat-screen TV. He
wears a Santa hat and has an ear-ring.

CAULDER
I don’t know what you’re so excited
about. I’d give mine back if I
could.

Built like a retired lineman, Ricky “Buddha” ORTIZ, 35, brews

yerba mate. It’s a long, involved process. There’s a pestle,
and some gourds, and Ortiz clearly takes it seriously. He has
photos of his wife and daughter all around his area.

ORTIZ
You don’t mean that. Children,
that’s what it’s all about.

CAULDER
Oh, no. I mean it.

Graves hangs up with Lena, swivels in his chair. Beaming.

GRAVES
We’re naming her Sarah.

CAULDER
From the Bible. Jacob’s wife.

Graves waits for the other shoe to drop.

 5/22/15 3

CAULDER (CONT’D)
Jacob was a player. Dude had like
five wives. Forget monogamy. My man
Jake was all about hitting it.

GRAVES
You’re going to hell. You know
that.

CAULDER
Metaphorically, right? Because we
know that down below us is just
spinning rock and hot magma. And
anyway, with all we’ve seen go down
up here, hard to imagine your God
coming up with anything worse.

ORTIZ
(to Graves)
Sarah’s a fine name. Sounds good in
Spanish too. You’ll like being a
father, Bear. Gives you ballast.
Keep you upright through the storm.

CAULDER
Says the guy who takes two days to
make tea out of dried grass.

ORTIZ
It’s not tea, pendejo. It’s mate,
and it’s got 24 vitamins and
minerals, 15 amino acids, and a
shit load of anti-oxidants.

CAULDER
Yeah, yeah, it’s Red Bull for taco-
heads.

ORTIZ
It’s South American. You don’t know
shit.

CAULDER
I did know a Sarah back in
Coronado. Best pole dancer I ever
saw.
(then, off their looks)
What?

An ENLISTED INTEL GUY enters, breathless.

ENLISTED INTEL GUY

It’s “The Butcher.” We think we
found him.
 5/22/15 4

The SEALs scramble to their feet, head out to--

INT. TOC (TACTICAL OPERATIONS CENTER) - MOMENTS LATER

A black and white print out of a particularly nasty-looking

TALIBAN LEADER.

Graves and Caulder move past it, revealing a wall covered in

other print outs, many of the faces x’ed out.

They push through the intel guys crowded around a Predator

drone feed showing a SNOWY VILLAGE.

GRAVES
We really got this cock-sucker?

Chief RIP TAGGART, 38, joins them, taking hits from an energy
drink. Doesn’t seem to help, though: he’s got dark circles
under his eyes, his face drawn and haggard. He’s seen way too
much and not forgotten half enough.

RIP
Tracked his cell phone signal to a
village up in Kunar.

GRAVES
A signal. That’s it?

RIP
No calls going in or out. But, four
crew cabs rolled in tonight. A shit-
ton of activity around this
compound before they bedded down.

Rip nods at a nerdy intel guy (LESTER) working the feed, and
the image zeroes in on a WALLED COMPOUND. Rip points to it,
finishing his energy drink. Pops open another.

CAULDER
That’s opium country. Could be
farmers.

RIP
At one in the morning? In December?

They watch the image in silence for a moment.

CAULDER
Hey, Lester. What kind of odds you
running on this thing?

Lester looks up from his computer.

 5/22/15 5

LESTER
Best guess, optimistic, 10 to 1.

CAULDER
I’m going to hit the rack.

Rip stops him.

RIP
No. We’re taking a shot.

CAULDER
You serious?

RIP
We can’t lose this shit-stain
again.

CAULDER
You know how many times we’ve
rolled snake eyes with this guy.
It’s probably not even him.

GRAVES
Only one way to find out.

Graves is pumped. He lives for this shit. They all do.

Caulder shrugs, smiles.

CAULDER
Fuck it. I’m in.

They look at Ortiz, who’s futzing with his mate.

ORTIZ
Yeah, okay. Nice night for a walk.

EXT. AFGHAN VILLAGE - LATER THAT NIGHT

SNOW. A boot punches through and sinks.

The SEALs are in full “battle-rattle,” wearing NVGS and

trudging toward a moonlit village, their breath frosting in
the winter air.

They slowly take up position, crouching down for cover.

GRAVES’S POV

Through his NVGs. IR LASERS from his weapon and his

teammates’ dance across the village. Looking for movement.
Any sign of life. There’s nothing.
 5/22/15 6

BACK TO SCENE

As Graves lowers his weapon, Rip motions, and the SEALs push
closer to the village.

They enter a thick band of trees.

Suddenly, Caulder holds up a fist, freezes.

With his IR laser he circles two GUARDS, sleeping under thick

blankets, their AK-47s within reach.

Rip motions to a SEAL (Michael HARDY) who stays to watch the

guards. The rest of the team continues forward.

MOVING WITH THE SEALS

Nearing the edge of the treeline, a DOG leaps out at them,

BARKING, before he’s yanked back by a chain. The RACKET
echoes up and down the valley.

RIP
Kill that fucking thing.

A SEAL pulls out a knife, but Ortiz steps in front of him.

ORTIZ
Don’t. He’s gonna be quiet, aren’t
you--

TWO SHOTS ring out behind them. A second later, Hardy comes
running through the trees.

RIP
What the fuck?

HARDY
They went for their AK’s. Had to
ice them.

They’re discovered now. GUNFIRE explodes in front of them.

The SEALs drop to the ground. BAD GUYS spill out of the
compound, SHOOTING in their direction. BULLETS whistle and
snap around them.

The SEALs calmly start engaging targets.

Graves’s laser finds a bad guy. He drops him. Another. Other

SEAL lasers criss-cross, finding their targets. Graves
searches for more, sees movement next to the main compound.
Partially blocked by a shed, TWO FIGURES drag something
heavy. Turn it toward Graves.
 5/22/15 7

GRAVES
They’ve got a fucking DShK!

The powerful anti-aircraft machine gun opens up, LIGHTING UP

THE NIGHT like a flamethrower. Cutting down trees all around
them, snow and bark exploding and showering down, guys diving
for cover. Deafening. Terrifying.

The onslaught seems to go on forever, obliterating their

senses. Finally, there’s a pause in the barrage, the dog
BARKING WILDLY now, snapping and straining at its chain.

Rip motions to Graves and Caulder.

MOVING THROUGH THE COMPOUND

Rip, Graves, and Caulder sprint through the trees, flanking

the machine gun’s position before--

TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! It opens up again, sending them sliding into

the muddy snow. Earth-shaking in intensity.

Graves looks for a clear shot, the reverberation of the

machine gun about to explode his ear drums.

GRAVES (CONT’D)
Don’t have the angle!

The machine gun stops. It’s barrel glowing with heat through
the SEALs NVGs. A moment later, the SEALs in the tree line
return fire, tracers etching the night.

CAULDER
Tell our guys to stop shooting.

Graves and Rip look at him.

RIP
What for?

Caulder suddenly stands up and RUSHES THE MACHINE GUNNERS.

The two men spot him, and struggle to turn their weapon,
wheeling the massive barrel to mow him down.

Caulder CHARGES the gun.

The gun TURNS in his direction, about to tear him apart.

At the very last second, Caulder GETS A SHOT. Running at a

dead sprint, he TAKES OUT the gunners.

For a moment he stands by the big machine gun, breathing

hard, eyes glistening, adrenaline burning off him.
 5/22/15 8

Rip and Graves run up.

GRAVES
You fucking dumb-shit.

CAULDER
You’re welcome.

Rip motions in the rest of the team.

Ortiz links up with them, the vicious DOG now unchained and
trailing happily behind him.

EXT. MAIN COMPOUND - MOMENTS LATER

The SEALs stack up outside the door, NVGS glowing green

against their faces. The last man squeezes the shoulder of
the man in front of him, going all the way to Rip in front,
who nods at Graves across the doorway.

Graves leans in and pushes open the door, and the SEALs rush
into the darkness.

WE STAY WITH GRAVES as the men race past him, his body
coiled. It feels like forever, but it’s only a few seconds
before the last man disappears inside and Graves hurtles in
after him.

INT. COMPOUND - CONTINUOUS

OUR POV IS LIMITED as Graves follows his teammates through

the dark house in a silent ballet of controlled chaos.

Up front, small groups of SEALs peel off and disappear into

side rooms and hallways, the line ahead of us getting shorter
and shorter until it’s just Caulder, Ortiz, and Graves.

The tension builds, the momentum hurling them forward to the

end of the hall, where a curtain billows across the entrance.

Rip falls in behind Graves just as--

Caulder goes through the curtain, turns left, and disappears

from view. Ortiz goes next, turns right, disappears.

An instant later: SHOUTING, the FLASH OF GUNFIRE beyond the

threshold, and Graves’s sharp INTAKE of breath as he rushes
headlong into--
 5/22/15 9

INT. BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS

Movement and sound explodes to his left and right, but Graves
ignores it, focuses on what’s directly in front of him: a
FIGHTER throwing down his AK and scrambling for the window.

Graves DROPS him in the back with two shots. Scans his
section and we catch a glimpse of something on the bed,
BODIES, as Rip pushes in next to him.

GRAVES
Clear!

CAULDER (O.S.)
Clear!

ORTIZ (O.S.)
Fucking put it down!

Graves, Rip, and Caulder whirl toward Ortiz, side-stepping

out of each other’s field of fire.

Backed into a corner, the BUTCHER holds a meat cleaver to a

WOMAN’s throat, hiding behind her. Impossible to get a shot.

Before anyone can stop him, the Butcher slips the blade
across her neck, blood spurting out in a spray, and the SEALs
open fire, bullets TEARING him and the hostage apart.

When it’s over, the Butcher lies in a bloody heap, WHEEZING,

somehow still alive.

RIP
That him?

Caulder lifts up the dying man by his hair and shines a mag-
light into his face. He compares it to the image of The
Butcher on his device.

CAULDER
Fuck yes it is.

Graves shoves up his NVGs.

GRAVES
That mother-fucker.
(then)
You mother-fucker!

He starts to step menacingly toward the Butcher when--

CAULDER
Hold up.
 5/22/15 10

Caulder shines his mag-light onto the bed. It’s the rest of
the family: a father and two children, their throats slit.
This must have been their house. The SEALs all stare, deeply
affected.

ORTIZ
They didn’t have to do that. Not to
the kids.

Graves vibrates with anger, his face flushing. Caulder takes

the blanket on the bed and covers the bodies.

Rip pushes past him. Grabs the cleaver out of the Butcher’s
hand. Straddles the still-breathing Taliban leader and starts
SCALPING him while Graves, Caulder, and Ortiz watch, stunned.

ORTIZ (CONT’D)
Hey, man, don’t--

CAULDER
Yeah, Rip, cool it!

Caulder starts toward Rip but Graves stops him. A man

possessed, Rip saws through the skin, the Butcher gurgling
out a scream. SPRASSHHHH! Rip pulls the scalp free from the
skull.

Suddenly, a cabinet in the corner BURSTS open and a TALIBAN

FIGHTER leaps out. In a flash, he dives through a window,
disappearing into the darkness.

EXT. VILLAGE - MOMENTS LATER

Graves and Caulder weave through a maze of narrow alleys in

pursuit. They catch glimpses of The Fighter up ahead.

Graves and Caulder emerge into a small square, where a skinny

mule looks at them balefully. Beyond it, they see The Fighter
leaping into a snow-filled irrigation ditch.

GRAVES
(into radio)
ISR, this is Slice Two. We’ve got a
squirter north-northwest of the
target compound. Requesting
sparkle.

Graves plunges in after him. Caulder heads around.

 5/22/15 11

EXT. MUD HUTS - MOMENTS LATER

Caulder scrambles up on top of a hut, and starts LEAPING from

mud roof to mud roof.

EXT. NIGHT SKY - SAME

A PREDATOR DRONE buzzes high above. Rotates its camera,

searching. Locks.

DRONE PILOT (V.O.)

Roger that, Slice Two. I’ve got
eyes on. Standby for sparkle.

A massive infrared SPOTLIGHT suddenly shoots down from the

sky like the hand of God, tracking the Taliban Fighter
running ahead of the two SEALs.

EXT. MUD HUTS - SAME

Caulder races after him along the rooftops, gaining. But then
he takes another leap and CRASHES THROUGH a roof.

OVERHEAD ANGLE/DRONE VIEW

The drone tracks to the collapsed hut, shining in with its IR

spotlight. Caulder appears out of the rubble and points.

The spotlight moves in that direction, searching for the

fleeing Fighter.

ANOTHER ANGLE

Unnoticed by the drone, the Fighter emerges from a tangle of

snowy bushes, and scrambles up a rocky hillside. He glances
over his shoulder at--

GRAVES

Who charges after him through knee-deep snow. Graves raises

his HK416 to take a shot, but Caulder suddenly appears ahead
of him, limping from his fall, blocking his view.

CAULDER
You see him?

Before Graves can answer, Caulder launches himself over a mud

wall, disappearing on the other side.

CAULDER
 5/22/15 12

Sinks to his chest in deep snow, his injured knee twisting

under him. He fights back the pain and uses his weapon to
pull himself part-way up, but can’t get any farther.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
Bear, go around. Hey, don’t--

Graves drops from the wall, disappearing into the snow next
to him, and the world goes WHITE.

Graves claws back up and punches an arm through.

GRAVES
There. Up on that ridge.

Caulder looks through his SCOPE, sighting with his laser. He

finds the Fighter in a sliver of space between two huts,
about to climb over a hill and escape.

GRAVES (CONT’D)
Watch the cross-wind.

CAULDER
Yep.

It’s an impossible shot at a crazy angle, but Caulder

steadies his breathing, steadies the laser, and pulls.

CRACK!

The Fighter drops.

EXT. SNOWY GOAT TRACK - MOMENTS LATER

Their guns drawn, Graves and Caulder move low and fast up the
hill (Caulder barely limping) toward the wounded Fighter.

The Fighter clutches his thigh, black blood seeping into the
glistening white snow. When the SEALs run up, ready to fire,
he raises his hands.

TALIBAN FIGHTER
Wait! Wait. I’m American.

Graves and Caulder stop in their tracks.

TALIBAN FIGHTER (CONT’D)

I’m from Michigan, man. Fucking
Michigan.

Graves stares at him, betraying no emotion. The Fighter looks

from him to Caulder, his eyes wild and desperate.
 5/22/15 13

TALIBAN FIGHTER (CONT’D)

What about you guys?

CAULDER
Cali.

TALIBAN FIGHTER
Sweet. I know I should like the
Pistons, but I’m a Lakers fan. I
love Kobe. A lot of people don’t,
but I do. Haters gonna hate, right?

Caulder slings his rifle, kneels down and checks the Fighter
for weapons while Graves covers him.

CAULDER
He’s clean.

GRAVES
You the one that killed those kids?

TALIBAN FIGHTER
What? No. Fuck, no.

Graves steps on his wounded leg. The Fighter writhes in pain.

TALIBAN FIGHTER (CONT’D)

Aw, shit, man! I’m telling you, it
was Abdul. Fuck that hurts.

GRAVES
So why’d you run?

The Fighter shakes his head, licks his lips.

TALIBAN FIGHTER
I had to. Your boy, he went all
Geronimo in there. You saw what he
did--

His lower lip trembles.

TALIBAN FIGHTER (CONT’D)

(to Caulder)
I just want to go home, man.
Please.
(then to Graves)
Please.

Their eyes meet. A moment of connection. Then the Fighter

looks past him and his face fills with fear.

TALIBAN FIGHTER (CONT’D)

No. Wait--
 5/22/15 14

POP! POP!

Blood splatters Graves’s face as two holes open up on the

Fighter’s forehead and he crumples.

Rip stands between Graves and Caulder, breathing hard, his

rifle barrel smoking.

A moment of stunned silence before the giant infrared

SPOTLIGHT shoots down from the sky, illuminating their
position on the snowy hillside.

CAULDER
What the fuck?

RIP
He was a threat.

CAULDER
Bullshit. He surrendered. And he’s
a fucking American.

RIP
Not any more.

Rip starts back down toward the village.

RIP (CONT’D)
(over his shoulder)
Exfil in five mikes.

CAULDER
Bear, you saw that. You--

GRAVES
Chief’s right. He was a threat.

Graves holds Caulder’s gaze, making it true. Caulder, for

once, is speechless. Without waiting for him to respond,
Graves walks down after Rip.

The dog still trailing him, Ortiz passes Graves and joins
Caulder by the Fighter’s body. Ortiz calmly takes in the
scene, catching his breath. Glances up. Keys his radio.

ORTIZ
(into radio)
ISR platform, this is Slice Three.
Squirter is KIA.

DRONE PILOT (V.O.)

Roger, Slice Three. Target
destroyed.
 5/22/15 15

The dog starts eating out brain matter from the dead
Fighter’s face before the infrared spotlight shuts off,
plunging Caulder and Ortiz into DARKNESS.

FADE IN ON:

EXT. YOSEMITE, HALF DOME - DAY

Out of the clouds, Half Dome appears, impossibly steep and

exposed.

We fly in closer, finding three TINY FIGURES half way up.

TIGHT ON THE ROCK

THICK FINGERS reach for rock, grab a hold, and pull.

Graves comes into frame, working hard. He places a piece of

rock-pro into the cliff wall and slips a rope through it.

ON SCREEN: FIVE YEARS LATER

Now 35, Graves’s hair is shot with premature gray. Deep lines
furrow his brow.

He pauses, searches deliberately for his next hold, then

moves upwards, slow and steady, completely focused.

We follow the ROPE down to Ortiz. He’s breathing hard, sweat

glistening his face. Nearly 40 and heavier, he grunts with
effort as he pulls himself up. He hugs the wall, catching his
breath.

A moment later, Caulder joins him, easily picking his way up,
favoring that injured knee a bit. He looks like he hasn’t
aged a day.

CAULDER
So this thing for Anabel, we need
to dress up?

Ortiz just looks at him, too tired to talk right now.

ORTIZ
Don’t wear your Jesus sandals, if
that’s what you’re asking.

CAULDER
They’re Tevas, brother. But, all
right. It’s your party.

Caulder grins and slaps Ortiz on the shoulder. Ortiz almost

loses his grip.
 5/22/15 16

ORTIZ
Hey, careful, man.

CAULDER
Fifteen, Buddha! Can you believe
your daughter is fucking fifteen?
That makes you like, what, fifty?
What are you even doing out here?
You should be selling yerba mate on
a beach somewhere.

ORTIZ
You gonna be old too.

CAULDER
Naw. Not me.

Caulder looks closely at Ortiz, whose leg is shaking.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
Hey, you okay?

ORTIZ
Fuck you. Just taking a breather.

CAULDER
Come on, let me give you a hand.

Caulder starts to help Ortiz as best he can. Slowly they make

their way up the cliff-face.

EXT. TOP OF HALF DOME - LATER

Almost to the top now, Ortiz barely making it. Caulder

reaches down his hand to help him up the last hold.

Ortiz claws his way over the top, shimmies his body sideways,
and rolls onto his back, revealing his gut.

Graves packs gear, getting ready to head down. Caulder pulls

on a high-tech, brightly-colored, winged one-piece thing. He
hands Ortiz a beer. Takes a slug from his own.

CAULDER
We get paid to do this shit.

ORTIZ
Barely.

Ortiz clambers to his feet. He takes in the amazing view.

He’s not just out of breath, he seems particularly moved. He
speaks quietly, almost to himself.
 5/22/15 17

ORTIZ (CONT’D)
I’m going to miss this.

Meaning, he really, really will. Caulder doesn’t quite hear--

or understand--what Ortiz is saying.

CAULDER
Right on. We don’t want to miss
this. Bear, stop the fucking busy
shit. Look around you.

Graves stops and stands up beside them. The three of them

together, on top of the world, taking in the amazing view.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
If I didn’t know any better, it’d
almost be enough to make me believe
in God.

Graves turns and stares at him.

GRAVES
Why do you do that?

CAULDER
Do what?

A grin spreading across his face. Caulder’s now fully geared

up in his WING-SUIT. It’s bright blue with an attached
parachute.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
Forget the tux, maybe I’ll wear
this. Just fly in the church door,
Buddha. The angel of Caulder.

GRAVES
This is a tactical training op. How
the fuck is that thing tactical?

Caulder looks down at the wing-suit, considers the question.

CAULDER
It’s not tactical, Bear. It’s blue.

Graves goes back to packing.

GRAVES
I’m not carrying your shit down.

CAULDER
You’ll keep praying for me, though,
right? Because I’ll take whatever I
can get.
 5/22/15 18

ORTIZ
You two’re like moscas, you know.
Flies on shit. Never gonna change.

Caulder toasts to that. He crushes the can in his hands, puts

it in his pocket.

CAULDER
(re: Ortiz’s beer can)
Make sure to recycle that.

Caulder steps to the edge, playing up the theatrics.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
Ladies and Gentlemen, since he
first walked upright, man has
dreamed of three things: beer,
pussy, and--flying.

Graves doesn’t even look up.

ORTIZ
Where you going?

CAULDER
Well, we’re out of beer, aren’t we?

He smiles, then JUMPS OFF.

WITH CAULDER

We FLY OUT from Half Dome as Graves and Ortiz make their way
down. Caulder is soaring, the earth rushing up at him,
waterfalls on his left, great granite faces on his right.

Flying, free.

PRIEST (V.O.)
Loving God, We thank you for
Anabel, who today celebrates her
fifteenth birthday.

Yosemite speeds by us, flows, then DISSOLVES TO:

INT. CATHOLIC CHURCH - DAY

A QUINCEANERA MASS is underway. Ortiz’s daughter ANABEL (15)

is dressed in white. Three GIRLS in white stand beside her.
She seems to glow from within. Ortiz and his wife JACKIE (35,
tall, regal, and way out of Ortiz’s league) stand behind her,
bursting with pride. Ortiz wears a rented tux.
 5/22/15 19

With them is Graves and his wife Lena. Other SEALS we’ll come
to know are there. Caulder holds a SCEPTER, glancing at a hot
YOUNG WOMAN (ZOE, 28) in the front row.

PRIEST
Bless her with your love that she
may grow in wisdom, knowledge, and
grace. May she love her family
always and be faithful to her
friends. Grant this through Christ
our Lord.

The PRIEST nods at Anabel. She speaks in a clear, strong

voice, dragging Caulder’s gaze away from Zoe, who nods at him
to pay attention.

ANABEL
Heavenly father, I thank you for
the gift of life, for creating me
in your image and for calling me to
be your daughter through baptism.
With your grace I commit myself to
serve my brothers and sisters all
my life.

The Priest sprinkles Anabel with Holy Water, then nods at the
godparents.

Graves and Lena step forward. Graves places a SAINT’S MEDAL

around her neck. Lena offers a ROSARY. With a wink, Caulder
hands Anabel the SCEPTER. Then Ortiz and Jackie position a
TIARA on her head.

Anabel offers the flowers to the altar of the Virgin Mary.

ANABEL (CONT’D)
Mary, Mother of Jesus, I dedicate
myself to you--

As the service continues we linger on Ortiz’s face as he

stares at his daughter. We PRELAP the SOUND OF SINGING, young
girls voices.

EXT. AFRICA, SCHOOL - SAME

Twenty YOUNG AFRICAN SCHOOLGIRLS, also in white, sing an

African gospel song, led by their teacher, ERICA (late 20s,
upper-class Nigerian).

The songs end and the girls giggle.

ERICA
Good morning.
 5/22/15 20

GIRLS
Good morning, Teacher Erica.

ERICA
Let’s begin with our daily reading.
Jasmine, are you prepared?

JASMINE
Yes, Teacher Erica.

ERICA
Excellent. We can’t wait to hear.
Please.

As Jasmine begins to read, we PULL BACK and see a WHITE MAN,

who helps THREE AFRICAN WORKERS paint over GRAFFITI on the
side of the rough plaster wall surrounding the school. The
graffiti says NO SCHOOLS FOR GIRLS. And DEATH TO INFIDELS. We
can’t see his face but he moves slowly, as if he’s been
crippled or injured, or maybe is just old.

He looks up from his work and watches the girls, many

shoeless, who continue their lesson MOS.

INT. BANQUET HALL, VIRGINIA BEACH - DAY

The Quinceanera celebration continues in a banquet hall set

up for a party. Ortiz stands in front of Anabel. The place is
packed. All eyes are on Ortiz.

He holds up a pair of high heels.

ORTIZ
Today, you wear these to remind us
all that you are now a woman. But
Anabel--
(deep breath)
--you’re really still my little
girl. My baby.

ANABEL
Hold it together, Daddy, you can do
it.

Everyone laughs. We see Graves and Caulder as they stare at

Ortiz. There’s no irony or macho jesting, just deep, genuine
affection.

Anabel holds out one foot, which wears a flat slipper.

Ortiz bends down on creaky knees, to the enthusiastic

encouragement of the crowd. He struggles to put the high-
heeled shoe on Anabel’s foot.
 5/22/15 21

He stares up at her and she smiles back. If Ortiz could stop

time forever, right at this moment, he would.

EXT. AFRICA, SCHOOL - SAME

We see the White Man painting over the grafiti. We see,

beyond him, the girls and Erica continuing their lesson.

But our POV has changed. We’re looking through openings in

the surrounding jungle. We hear the rustling of many feet,
the creaking and clanking of gear, something metallic.

We hear whispered voices. Then silence as the movement

ceases.

The white man, sensing something, lowers his paint brush and
looks up, staring at the source of the rustling in the
jungle.

And now we see his face. It’s RIP, the SEAL who led the
mission in Afghanistan.

He looks haunted and old, as if he’s doing penance.

INT. BANQUET HALL, VIRGINIA BEACH - SAME

Ortiz and Anabel dance. Jackie watches with love and pride.

Graves and Caulder monopolize the snack table. Caulder winks

at Zoe, who’s getting a drink.

GRAVES
You bring a date to this?

CAULDER
I’m in love.

GRAVES
You always say that. But it’s not
your brain talking.

CAULDER
Hey, she’s a vet.

GRAVES
No shit. What branch? Marines?

CAULDER
A horse doctor, moron. She’s got
class.
 5/22/15 22

GRAVES
So that’s what you call it.

In the b.g. a young man taps Ortiz on the shoulder to dance

with Anabel. Ortiz comes over to Graves and Caulder.

GRAVES (CONT’D)
Congratulations. That was
beautiful.

CAULDER
Yeah, Anabel turned out pretty
well. Considering.

Ortiz hasn’t taken his eyes off Anabel, who seems to glow.

ORTIZ
I’m hanging it up.

CAULDER
What, you getting snipped? No more
hijos?

ORTIZ
No, I’m getting out.

That’s what Ortiz meant when in Yosemite he said he was going

to miss this. Graves looks like he’s been punched in the gut.

GRAVES
What are you talking about?

ORTIZ
Anabel got accepted. At that dance
school. In New York. I can’t float
the tuition on my E-8 paycheck. Not
with Jackie down to part-time.
Besides I’m sick of you guys.

CAULDER
It’s mutual.

GRAVES
You can’t just quit.

They watch the young women in virginal white, and the boys
uncomfortable in their formal attire, dancing a slow waltz.

ORTIZ
It’s time, Bear. I had a good run.
Go dance with Anabel. She’ll be mad
if you don’t.
 5/22/15 23

GRAVES
(cold as ice)
I don’t dance.

Then the music changes to fast-paced salsa, and Caulder

shimmies out onto the floor.

CAULDER
Well, hell. I do.

He grabs Zoe and they begin to dance. The rest of the

attendees spill out after them.

What a great party.

EXT. AFRICA, SCHOOL - SAME

Rip stares into the jungle, then sets down his paintbrush.
The girls are now reading something in unison.

RIP
Erica!

Erica looks over at the wall.

RIP (CONT’D)
Get the girls in the bunker.

Suddenly from the surrounding jungle burst dozens of ARMED

MEN. One of them, robed and taller than the others, has a
CROSSBOW.

Chaos.

The girls start to scream. Erica motions them out of the

classroom.

They run toward a doorway leading down below the earth.

Rip reaches for a weapon, so do the African workers.

Gunfire tears into one of the workers.

Rip begins shouting orders. Suddenly, THWACK, he spins

around, struck by a bolt from the crossbow.

INT. GREEN TEAM KILL HOUSE, VIRGINIA BEACH - DAY

GUNFIRE.

As bullets tear through life-sized paper targets.

 5/22/15 24

SEAL
(muffled)
Clear! Moving!

A SEAL in a chemical suit and mask keeps his rifle drawn and
fast-walks to the next room, his breath fogging the visor.

On a catwalk above, Graves, Caulder, and Ortiz move along the

railing with him, following him down a hallway. We’re in a
massive warehouse. The catwalk spans in all directions.

CAULDER
How fast was that? Hey, Buddha, how
fast was that?

Graves looks over at a large digital CLOCK counting down.

GRAVES
Not fast enough.

ORTIZ
I don’t know, Bear. It seemed fast.

CAULDER
Because it fucking was.

GRAVES
He’s not going to make it.

CAULDER
A dozen oyster shooters that you’re
wrong.

The men cross over a moveable wall and come over another room
filling with smoke as the SEAL bursts through the door below
them.

A siren WAILS. Lights FLASH on and off. All distractions as

targets pop up. Threat. Non-threat. Threat. Threat.

The SEAL hits the ones he should, holds his fire on the ones
he shouldn’t.

SEAL
Clear!

The clock hits ZERO and the lights come on, the siren falling
silent.

The SEAL takes off his chem mask, revealing Robert CHASE III,
28, an African-American with model good-looks, and someone
we’ll get to know later.

Caulder slow-claps from above.

 5/22/15 25

CAULDER
Pretty shit hot. A lot better
looking than Buddha, too.
(then, to Ortiz)
No offense.
(beat)
Course it wouldn’t take much.

ORTIZ
You done?

Ortiz turns to Graves. Down below, INSTRUCTORS rearrange

walls and furniture, assembling an entirely new interior.

ORTIZ (CONT’D)
The kid’s not bad.

Graves shakes his head and shoots Ortiz a withering look,

bitter about Ortiz retiring.

CAULDER
All right, can we just agree right
now that none of them are going to
be good enough to replace Buddha?

GRAVES
Yeah, we can. They’re not ready.

ORTIZ
You make them ready, John.
(he nods toward Caulder)
You and Alex both.

Graves turns on him. He spits out the words with a deep

anger.

GRAVES
Why the fuck are you even here? Go
do some civilian shit.

Ortiz looks at Graves a long moment, checking for any sign of

tough SEAL humor, doesn’t see any.

ORTIZ
Whatever you say, Chief.

Ortiz climbs down the catwalk ladder as another Green Team

SEAL in a chem suit enters the room below them.

CAULDER
What was that about? I wasn’t
feeling the love, Bear.

Graves turns away, says nothing.

 5/22/15 26

CAULDER (CONT’D)
Fucking dick.

Caulder shakes his head at Graves and starts down the ladder
after Ortiz, pausing momentarily.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
And I wasn’t talking about those
cheap-ass rubbery oysters you like,
either. I want the expensive shit.

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK. Down below, the new SEAL runs through the

scenario.

But Graves, distracted, isn’t even looking.

INT. SEAL CAGE ROOM - LATER

Under the harsh, artificial lights of the massive cage room,

Ortiz is cleaning out his locker when Grave enters. He
struggles to articulate how he’s feeling.

GRAVES
You’ve been on the team a long
time. A long time. With me. And,
uh, it’s because of that, of what
you said, or doing--I mean, because
you’re leaving--

He glances up at the ceiling, then tries again.

GRAVES (CONT’D)
I only mean to say, it’s okay. I
understand. I do.

Ortiz, who had been stoic while taking down his gear, finally
looks at Graves.

ORTIZ
Sure, John. Thanks.

At that moment a skinny SEAL with a droopy moustache

(BUCKLEY) pokes his head into the cage room.

BUCKLEY
Commander wants all shooters in the
briefing room. Something big coming
down the pipe.

Everyone hustles out. Surrounded by lockers and equipment

he’ll never use again, we linger on Ortiz. Alone.
 5/22/15 27

INT. BRIEFING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

All the SEALs are there. Some in casual clothes, others

kitted up and sweaty from training.

Commander ATKINS (40s) leads the brief.

ATKINS
Forty-eight hours ago, armed men
assaulted a girls school eighty
miles outside of Abuja, Nigeria.
Hostages were taken.

He nods at CIA Agent Ben FUNG, who points a remote at a TV

screen, and clicks through a series of photos showing the
aftermath: overturned desks, bloody books, bodies.

FUNG
And it’s not the first time.

He clicks through another set of photos showing a different

school, charred and burned to the ground.

FUNG (CONT’D)
This was in Zaria two months ago.

He clicks through more photos of destruction.

FUNG (CONT’D)
And again, near the Cameroon
border. In each case, we had a
forensics team comb the site for
intel. You know what they found?

Fung holds up his hand in the shape of a zero.

FUNG (CONT’D)
These guys are not your average
junior varsity jihadists. They’ve
been ghosts. We didn’t know who
they were or what they wanted.
Until today.

He turns back to the screen, and starts clicking through

photos showing the FACES of the frightened SCHOOL GIRLS, one
after the other.

FUNG (CONT’D)
These photos were just distributed
online to various criminal and
radical networks.

Ortiz slips into the back of the room unnoticed.

 5/22/15 28

CAULDER
They’ve got numbers on the bottom.
Are those ransoms?

FUNG
Prices. They’re selling them off to
the highest bidder.

Fung lets that sink in. And it does. Hard.

GRAVES
These girls, they’re not U.S.
citizens. We’ll never get the green
light from Washington.

ATKINS
Right. And Nigeria won’t clear us
for a rescue op. They say they’ve
got it covered. However--

He nods at Fung, who clicks to the next photograph.

It’s RIP, bruised and beaten. “$20,000,000” in clean type-

face written under his face.

Graves’s jaw drops. Ortiz reaches out to steady himself. The

electricity in the room inverts, builds.

GRAVES
Who has him?

FUNG
We’re sifting through IP addresses,
cross-referencing known terrorists
with watch lists and raw cell phone
data--

GRAVES
Who, God damn it?

FUNG
We think this is the leader.

Fung clicks at the screen. Another familiar face appears.

It’s the TALIBAN FIGHTER who Rip killed in Afghanistan.

Graves goes ashen.

FUNG (CONT’D)
Omar Watson. American born and
bred.

Caulder looks over at Graves, but Graves just stares at the

screen, stunned.
 5/22/15 29

ATKINS
He was a PhD student in mechanical
engineering at Michigan State up
until a few years ago when he
dropped out to get his jihad on.

CAULDER
You sure that’s the right photo?

FUNG
It’s dated, but, yeah, it’s him.
He’s a bit of an enigma. According
to former colleagues, he supported
the US invasion of Iraq. Real pro-
American. From what we can piece
together, that all changed when his
little brother Jeremy--

Another photo. This one definitely of the guy Rip killed.

But, he’s fresh-faced and younger, throwing gang signs and
posing with a playful smile. Both he and his brother look
like what they are: American. They look like us.

FUNG (CONT’D)
Snuck off to Afghanistan and never
came back.

ATKINS
Apparently Omar believes one of our
teams killed him. As of now we have
no indication they know who Rip is.
But once this goes viral, it’s only
a matter of time.

Caulder and Graves share a look. A not friendly one. Ortiz

steps forward between them.

ORTIZ
Any leads on Rip’s location?

FUNG
No. Not yet.

A collective groan from the SEALs.

FUNG (CONT’D)
But, we’re tracking down a possible
associate who might know where he
is.
 5/22/15 30

ATKINS
One step at a time, gentlemen.
Every three-letter agency is
putting the puzzle pieces together
on this one. As soon as we get a
clear sight picture, I promise you
we’ll get the call. That means all
leave is cancelled. One-hour recall
until further notice--

Atkins continues, but Graves doesn’t hear it. Sound FADES as

we push in on Graves’s face, the anger in him building.

INT. SEAL CAGE ROOM - LATER

Graves sits hunched on a stool in his locker, methodically

sorting and resorting his gear, trying to lose himself in the
ritual, trying to calm down.

Nearby, Caulder changes into civilian clothes while he talks

low to Ortiz.

CAULDER
I didn’t even know Rip was in
Africa. What was he even doing
there, that’s what I want to know.

Graves’s knuckles go white. His hands start shaking.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
I’ll tell you one thing, Buddha.
You won’t ever see my picture up
there, I promise you that. No way
in hell--

Graves’s vision blurs and the SCUBA mask he’s holding SNAPS
in half, the glass SHATTERING into his palms.

SLAM!

Graves throws Caulder up against a cage, his bleeding, meaty

hands wrapping around Caulder’s neck.

ORTIZ
Whoa! Bear, put him down.

GRAVES
(to Caulder)
This is on you. He’s there because
of you.
 5/22/15 31

CAULDER
(fighting for breath)
He made his choices. I made mine.

Graves shakes Caulder like a rag doll, lifting him off the
floor. Caulder’s face purples, a vein pulsates in his temple.

ORTIZ
Let him go, Bear. Let him down, all
right. Hey. Hey, look at me. Look
at me!

Graves blinks, seems to return into himself, registers Ortiz.

Looks around him, sees all the other SEALs watching him.

ORTIZ (CONT’D)
It’s not his fault. It’s not
anyone’s fault. It just is.

Graves lets Caulder drop. Caulder doubles over, coughing, his

eyes watering. Ortiz puts a calming hand on Graves’s
shoulder.

ORTIZ (CONT’D)
We’re gonna fix it. That’s what we
do. We’re gonna bring him home.

Graves shrugs off Ortiz and leaves without a word.

INT. GRAVES HOUSE - NIGHT

Dinner time. Graves chews silently, still stewing about the

confrontation with Caulder. A flowery, decorative cross hangs
on the wall above him.

Lena, meanwhile, whirls around him while cradling the phone

to her ear.

LENA
(into cell)
But, it’s a velocity problem. So,
you use a vector, right?

Lena refers to her college physics homework at the table. She

glances at Graves, covers the phone.

LENA (CONT’D)
(nodding at his steak)
Too rare? It seems a little rare?

Graves shakes his head.

 5/22/15 32

She gets up again, opens the fridge and freezer, revealing

super organized interiors. She returns with a chilled mug and
a beer. Expertly pours it for Graves while still talking.

LENA (CONT’D)
(into cell)
X should equal four. Well, that’s
what I have. Uh huh. Okay.

She’s listening but watching Graves.

LENA (CONT’D)
(into cell)
Sorry, but can I call you back?
Great, thanks.

She turns off her cell phone.

LENA (CONT’D)
I’m not ready for this test.

GRAVES
You’re gonna ace it. You’re good at
everything you do.

LENA
That’s not true.

GRAVES
You calling me a liar?

He cracks a smile and motions for her to come sit on his lap.
She runs her hands through his hair.

LENA
I set up an appointment with that
new doctor. Remember I told you
about him? He helped Diego and
Patsy. She’s due in November.

GRAVES
Worth a shot. Let’s do it.

LENA
It’s just--he doesn’t take
insurance.

GRAVES
We’ll find a way. We have to.

She nods and stands up to clear the table. As she walks

around him she touches his shoulder. She senses he’s still
preoccupied by something he can’t tell her about.
 5/22/15 33

LENA
You go on. I’ll clean up.

INT. GRAVES HOUSE, BASEMENT - LATER

Graves works silently and intently, putting the finishing

touches on a beautifully lacquered OAR. (This is the
traditional gift for a SEAL’s retirement.)

He stops, holds it up, looks down the length of it, checking.

Then he bends over it with some extra-fine sandpaper, and

works a spot that wasn’t quite perfect.

Caulder comes down the stairs.

CAULDER
Lena let me in.

Graves says nothing.

Caulder picks up a large, sharp chisel. Checks the edge. Not

a bad weapon. The tension is thick. Caulder nods at the oar.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
That for Ricky?

Graves nods, doesn’t look at Caulder.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
I’m as mad about Rip as you are. So
I’m not taking your shit personal.

GRAVES
You should.

CAULDER
Rip lost it. He crossed the line.
And if you lose it, I’ll do the
same to you.

GRAVES
That’s where we’re different.

CAULDER
That’s just one way. We got to work
together, so we will. You have my
back, I got yours. But--

He holds the chisel, gripping it like a knife. Graves stares

at it, ready to react.
 5/22/15 34

CAULDER (CONT’D)
--you try to kill me again, you
better finish the job.

He slams the chisel down, hard, into the workbench.

They stare at each other. This could get really bad, really
fast. But then Caulder grins.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
Want to get a beer?

GRAVES
Nah, I got to finish this.

He goes back to work on the oar.

I/E. AFRICA, ABANDONED VILLAGE - DAY

A bombed-out jail in an abandoned village. Vehicles nearby

overhung with camouflage netting.

Rip is held in a roofless cell next to Erica, whose eyes have

the faraway look of a woman who’s been as mistreated as a
woman can be. Rip’s shoulder has a dirty bandage. There’s no
sign of the school girls.

A TEENAGER with an AK sits on a stool, fingering a key ring

like his life depends on it.

RIP
What’s your name?

The Teenager does his best to ignore him. He’s got a job to
do and he’s not going to screw it up.

RIP (CONT’D)
(in local dialect)
Where are they taking us?

Surprised, the Teenager looks over at Rip, then catches

himself, stares straight ahead. Rip tries another approach.

RIP (CONT’D)
You’re not really part of this, are
you? Hurting women, children.
You’re just following orders.

TEENAGER
(whispering)
Don’t speak so loud.
 5/22/15 35

RIP
Come closer, my friend. It’s easier
to talk.

Behind his back, Rip wraps his fingers around a long,

splintered piece of wood.

RIP (CONT’D)
Who are they? Is it Boko Haram?

The Guard shakes his head. Rip motions him over.

RIP (CONT’D)
Who?

The Guard looks around nervously. Then he gets off his stool
and edges toward the cell. Rip readies his weapon.

TEENAGER
An American.

Rip hesitates, losing his chance.

RIP
What?

The door BANGS open and a fat, bug-eyed GUARD barrels in. He
BARKS something at the teenager, who hands him the key ring,
grabs his weapon, and clears out.

The new Guard takes his seat on the stool, glaring over at
Rip before his eyes slide over to Erica in the adjoining
cell, who whimpers in a fitful sleep.

RIP (CONT’D)
Don’t even fucking think about it.

INT. ORTIZ HOUSE, LIVING ROOM - DAY

Ricky paces and dials his cell phone. Switches the TV,
watching the news. CNN. Fox. MSNBC. Mutes it.

ORTIZ
(into cell phone)
It’s Ricky.
(beat)
Any updates? On the situation.
(beat)
Yeah, I’m sitting tight. That’s all
I’m doing.

Jackie enters, wearing brightly-printed scrubs and carrying a

tray with two steaming bowls. Ortiz shuts off the phone.
 5/22/15 36

He sits down next to Jackie in his recliner, but can’t stay

still, dying to know what’s happening with the mission.

JACKIE
Green chile stew. Miranda brought
some fresh Hatch chiles into the
office.

Ricky doesn’t even look at it.

RICKY
Fresh chiles. That’s great.

Ricky stirs the stew around. Not really hungry.

RICKY (CONT’D)
They’re picking my replacement.

JACKIE
No one can replace you.

RICKY
That’s what I’m worried about.

Jackie picks up the bowls.

JACKIE
Hey, this’ll keep. Why don’t you go
get Anabel? Surprise her.

Ortiz breaks into a smile. What a great idea.

INT. BALLET SCHOOL - DAY

Elegant, arched hands. Raised toes. Wearing tights, Anabel

steps onto the middle of the floor, lengthens her lean body--
so unlike her father’s--and stills herself.

Ortiz enters just as she starts her routine, navigating his

considerable girth through the watching moms. Everyone is
looking at him. He’s a bull in a china shop.

He squeezes into a seat and nods at Anabel, encouraging. But

on seeing him, she loses her focus, missing a step. Tries to
recover, but falters and stops. Flustered.

ANABEL
Can I start again?
 5/22/15 37

I/E. ORTIZ’S COROLLA, VIRGINIA BEACH - LATER

Ortiz drives Anabel home down the tourist strip, the flat
gray of the Atlantic visible between the dingy t-shirt shops
and run-down cafes.

ANABEL
I didn’t know you were going to be
there.

ORTIZ
I can see you more now. That’s the
whole idea.

ANABEL
Look, Dad. You have to understand.
Mom and I have been doing this on
our own for a long time. You can’t
expect things to change over night.

ORTIZ
Where’d you learn to talk like
that?

She softens, reaches out for his hand.

ANABEL
I know this is a big change for
you, Dad. But you’re doing the
right thing. It’s just going to
take some getting used to. And not
just for you.

Jesus. She’s so strong. Like her mother.

ORTIZ
But we will, won’t we?

She breaks into a smile, looking like a child again.

ANABEL
Some ice cream might help.

ORTIZ
Mom would kill us.

ANABEL
I won’t tell if you won’t.

I/E. SEAL GYM/FIRING RANGE - DAY - WORKOUT/SHOOTING MONTAGE

State of the art in every way. The energy is intense,

focused. Like an NFL team working out.
 5/22/15 38

We pick out our SEALs doing typical workouts.

Graves pumps iron.

Caulder does plyometrics, trying to push through the pain in

his knee.

Other SEALs climb ropes or negotiate climbing walls, do kick-

boxing, some even doing yoga.

In between, they’re shooting on the huge outdoor range. With

rifles. With pistols. Stationary. On the move. Graves, then
Caulder, then Graves again. Bang! Bang! BANG!

I/E. AFRICA, ABANDONED VILLAGE - NIGHT

Rip wakes with a start in his open-roofed cell. Mouth dry.

Shoulder throbbing.

His eyes adjust to the darkness. The guard stool is empty.

The cell door next to him is open and the Guard’s boots are
toes down, scrabbling for purchase in the mud, his pants to
his ankles.

RIP
Erica? Erica!

He BANGS on the bars, making as much noise as he can.

RIP (CONT’D)
FUCKING STOP!

The jail door creaks, a shadow appears, then--THWACK!

A second later, other GUARDS come in with flashlights,

revealing the tall, battle-scarred Mujahadeen with his
crossbow, staring down at the now dead guard, his expression
reeking of contempt.

The Guards drag the dead man from Erica’s cell, a crossbow
bolt protruding from the back of his skull.

The Mujahadeen plants his boot, grinding the dead man’s face
into the mud, and yanks out the bolt.

His flat eyes meet Rip’s--two predators recognizing each

other--then the Guards pull Rip and Erica out of their cells.
 5/22/15 39

EXT. BOMBED OUT JAIL - MOMENTS LATER

The Guards hustle Rip and a dazed Erica to waiting trucks,

where they reunite with the terrified SCHOOL GIRLS.

The Girls cry out in relief and rush to Erica’s side,

circling her in a group embrace. Tears pour down Erica’s face
when she sees them.

She pulls herself together, reassures her students with

whispers and kisses as the Guards start yelling, herding all
the girls into the trucks.

Rip’s head is on a swivel. He’s taking in as much as he can

before the Mujahadeen notices, and a moment later, Rip is
blindfolded and thrown into the back of a truck.

INT. ORTIZ’S HOUSE, BEDROOM - DAY

Jackie helps Ortiz try on his suit jacket while Anabel texts
on the bed nearby. He checks himself in the mirror. The
jacket looks like it’s about to burst at the seams. Ortiz has
to really suck it in to get it buttoned.

ANABEL
Too much Taco Bell.

ORTIZ
Ha ha ha, real funny. We’ll see how
much you’re laughing when I pawn
your I-phone to pay the bills.

A knock on the door.

ANABEL
(exiting)
I’ll get it.

Ortiz can hardly breathe, the shirt collar is so tight.

JACKIE
Maybe undo that top button.

ORTIZ
How’d all my dress clothes shrink?

She laughs again. Ortiz grab asses her, and she twists away.

Graves comes in with Anabel, interrupting their flirting.

ORTIZ (CONT’D)
John. What’s up?
 5/22/15 40

Graves smiles at Jackie, but her face tightens. She knows

them both too well.

GRAVES
Can we talk? Outside?

Ortiz glances at Jackie. For a moment her eyes convey a

wordless message: you promised to give this up.

GRAVES (CONT’D)
This a bad time?

Jackie looks away, as if giving Ortiz the choice. He

hesitates, then he makes it.

ORTIZ
No, no. Not at all.

EXT. BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

Graves follows a well-worn path behind the house down to the

oil-slicked waterline, where Ortiz joins him. Sea and sky
both gunmetal gray.

GRAVES
You know about Rip. You know we’re
on the hook to go get him.

ORTIZ
Bear--

GRAVES
Listen to me. With you leaving,
we’re a man short. There’s no way
we can spin up a replacement in
time.

ORTIZ
You don’t know what it’s like,
having a daughter, and not getting
to see her grow up--

Graves involuntarily flinches.

ORTIZ (CONT’D)
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like
that--

GRAVES
We can’t do this without you.

ORTIZ
Don’t say that.
 5/22/15 41

GRAVES
We can’t. Do this. Without. You.

ORTIZ
I made a promise. To Jackie. To
Anabel.

GRAVES
One more time. On the promise you
made to us. That’s all I’m asking.

Ortiz turns away and stares out at the ocean, a man caught
between his loyalty to his family and to his brotherhood.

EXT. CAULDER’S TRAILER - DAY

Run-down. Peeling. An old psychedelic-painted VW bus,

surfboard strapped to the roof. Next to Caulder’s sparkling
Triumph bike. HEAR the Grateful Dead playing inside.

INT. CAULDER’S TRAIL - SAME

Caulder’s lair, filled with climbing gear, books, posters and

albums, the old kind. Tibetan prayer flags are strung across
the ceiling. A Grateful Dead vinyl PLAYS on a record player.

Caulder is leaning back, his eyes closed in either ecstasy or

pain, hard to tell. One thing’s for sure; he’s got his pants
down around his ankles.

It’s Zoe, from Anabel’s Quinceanera. She’s on her knees in

front of him, working away. We can’t see on what.

ZOE
It’s big. Bigger than I’ve ever
seen.

CAULDER
That’s what all the girls say.

ZOE
I bet they do.

Now we come around and it’s not what we think: Zoe has a huge
needle, and she’s draining the fluid from Caulder’s swollen
knee.

CAULDER
Looks worse than it is.
 5/22/15 42

ZOE
It’s not just your knee. Your hands
shake when you sleep. That’s
neurological, Alex.

CAULDER
I love it when you talk dirty.

ZOE
I’m serious. I mean, I can leave
you some Bute, or maybe an HA
injection. They help with horses.

He kisses her, and it starts to get hot and heavy before he

suddenly stops. Checks his watch. Pulls up his pants.

CAULDER
Fuck. I’m late for court.

He tries to run to the door, but trips on his pants and

tumbles out of frame.

EXT. CEMETERY - DAY

The WHINE of a mower and leaf blower. Two Hispanic WORKERS

maintain the cemetery grounds.

They move onto the next section, passing a kneeling Graves as

he pulls out weeds by hand, carefully edging the grass around
a small grave.

He sits back and inspects his work. We see the engraving on

the headstone: “Sarah Rose Graves. Our little angel. 4/7/11-
8/2/11.”

Four months.

Graves looks back at Lena, who replaces the dead flowers in

the attached vase with a a small bouquet of roses.

His phone VIBRATES, ruining the moment. Lena reaches out for
his hand.

Graves starts to say something, but the mower kicks back on,
drowning him out.

INT. COURT ROOM - DAY

Caulder is in a custody hearing with his EX-WIFE (hair a

little too blonde, make-up a little too heavy) and her
ATTORNEY. His son DHARMA (14) sits next to her. Dharma looks
like he has some issues about his gender.
 5/22/15 43

CAULDER’S ATTORNEY
Chief Petty Officer Caulder has
been an exemplary parent. He has--

EX-WIFE
--never been around.

CAULDER’S ATTORNEY
--cared deeply for his son.

EX-WIFE
--who couldn’t pick him out of a
line-up.

CAULDER’S ATTORNEY
Objection. Your honor--

JUDGE
Attorney will instruct her client
that her next outburst will have
her held in contempt. Continue.

Caulder’s device VIBRATES. He stares down at it.

CAULDER’S ATTORNEY
Chief Petty Officer Caulder is
committed to taking an active role
in his son’s life. At this point in
a boy’s life, the presence of a
stable father--

Caulder stands up and tugs on his attorney’s sleeve. His Ex-

wife rolls her eyes. Dharma stares down at the floor.

INT. INTERVIEW ROOM - DAY

Wearing his very tight suit, Ortiz is being interviewed by a

security consulting company.

INTERVIEWER
We’re glad you’ve finally agreed to
speak with us, Chief. Michael Hardy
has told us a lot about you. He was
your teammate for how long?

ORTIZ
Twelve years.
 5/22/15 44

INTERVIEWER
And I’m sure he’s told you about
how our teams are based on SEAL
principles, but of course not with
SEAL salaries. Your clearance is up
to date?

ORTIZ
Of course. About the benefit
package. I hear you have a tuition
assistance plan?

INTERVIEWER
Correct. For approved educational
institutions.

ORTIZ
And that applies to dependents?

INTERVIEWER
Up to the age of 25 years.

Ortiz’s device VIBRATES. He takes it out.

ORTIZ
Excuse me.

INTERVIEWER
No worries. I know what that is.

INT. ORTIZ HOUSE - DAY

Ortiz enters, in a rush. Preoccupied.

JACKIE
How was it? The interview?

ORTIZ
Great. I start right after I
separate. Listen, I gotta go--

JACKIE
No, you relax. I’m getting Anabel
today.

ORTIZ
It’s this thing with Rip. They need
me.

Jackie takes a breath, tries to stay calm.

 5/22/15 45

JACKIE
Ricky, listen to me. I know how you
feel. You love those guys. Like
brothers. But Anabel and I, we need
you now. So don’t you dare walk out
that door.

ORTIZ
I love you. Tell Anabel I’ll catch
her next recital.

JACKIE
Ricky!

But he’s gone.

INT. LOCKER ROOM - DAY

One by one the team enters and begins getting their gear
together. It’s quiet, routine, a few ad-lib lines: “Can I
borrow some tape?” You got any extra batteries?”

Ortiz enters, still in his suit. Without a word he goes to

his locker and starts taking it off.

Graves breaks into a smile.

CAULDER
Hey! You! Get the fuck out of
there! That’s Ortiz’s locker!

Without looking up, Ortiz shoots him the finger. Graves walks
over and holds out his hand.

GRAVES
Glad you’re here.

CAULDER
Speak for yourself.
(to Ortiz)
Go buy your Porsche or your Tesla
or whatever you contractor dudes
drive.

ORTIZ
I’m not out yet. So I’m in. Besides
you guys would fuck it up without
me.

DISSOLVE TO:
 5/22/15 46

EXT. AFRICA - DAY

Two TRIBESMEN herd GOATS across a red desert, their colorful,

traditional garb a striking contrast to the OIL FIELD JACKS
pumping Africa’s new black gold.

Wind whips around the them, and the huge, burning sun hangs
low against the vast horizon. A big tanker truck with an OIL
COMPANY LOGO on it drives by.

Beyond is a COMPOUND ringed with barbed wire.

ON SCREEN: UNDISCLOSED FORWARD OPERATING BASE, TRANS-SAHEL

AFRICA

We go into the Compound and pick up Graves, walking

purposefully toward an open door.

We go inside with him.

INT. TEAM HUT, COMMON AREA - DAY

SEALs gear up. They cinch down equipment straps and tape
fingers. They load rounds into magazines and listen to pump-
up music. It’s got the focused feel of a pre-game locker
room; each man with his own ritual.

Everything checked and re-checked. Intensity and anticipation

building like a drum beat.

Buckley, however, snoozes, dead to the world. There’s always

one guy who reacts to the tension and anticipation by
shutting down.

Graves strides in, picks up a remote and turns on a flat

screen hanging on one of the walls.

GRAVES
Where the fuck are Caulder and
Ortiz?

BUCKLEY
Caulder’s doing his pre-op ritual.
Ricky went to get him.

GRAVES
We go wheels up in 25 mikes. He
better get his ass here fast. Now,
one more time. Grid reference.

We see a schematic on the TV.

 5/22/15 47

GRAVES (CONT’D)
Satellite imagery.

Click. Harbor. Ships.

GRAVES (CONT’D)
Comm plan.

A huge SEAL, Charlie “Fishbait” GOODNIGHT, 30, Alaskan Aleut

Indian, nudges Buckley.

GOODNIGHT
Wakey-wakey.

Click.

GRAVES
Target.

An image of AIDID FARID, 30s, overweight, slippery,

intelligent eyes behind professorial glasses.

GRAVES (CONT’D)
Aidid Farid. AKA Abu Malik. Money
man and all around shit-bag for Al-
Qaeda, Al-Shabaab, Hezbollah, and
ISIS. Number six on the FBI’s most
wanted terrorist list. He’s got hot
intel on where Rip and the girls
are.

Click. The screen goes dark.

GRAVES (CONT’D)
So we bring him in alive. Any
questions?

A combat support CREWMAN looks around.

CREWMAN
What’s Caulder’s pre-op ritual?

Pre-lap the sound of a woman MOANING.

INT. AFRICAN HOUSE - DAY

A NAKED AFRICAN WOMAN writhes in ecstasy, trying not to cry

out. This apparently is Caulder’s pre-op ritual.

Caulder looks up from between her legs. The door FLIES open.
A HUGE AFRICAN MAN bursts in, brandishing a big MACHETE!
 5/22/15 48

CAULDER
Now, hold on.

Caulder stands, and we see that he’s butt-naked except for

his PISTOL BELT. He holds up his hands, placating.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
Why don’t we just hug it out? What
do you say?

Caulder spreads his arms for a hug. The Man BELLOWS like a
bull and rushes him.

EXT. AFRICAN VILLAGE - MOMENT LATER

Ortiz sits at the wheel of a Jeep, completing a transaction

with a TEENAGED AFRICAN who hands Ortiz some DVD’s. Suddenly,
Caulder bursts out of the underbrush, holding his pants up.

CAULDER
Buddha! Start the jeep!

The Huge Man with the machete CRASHES through the trees after
Caulder, not ten yards behind, and gaining.

Ortiz sweeps up and grabs Caulder just as the Huge Man with
the machete bursts out of the underbrush right behind him.

A HUGE C-17 roars overhead as Ortiz drives like a bat out of

hell. Caulder whoops with joy.

EXT. COMPOUND - MAGIC HOUR

The ENGINES of the C-17 ROAR, SPITTING translucent blue jet

as the SEALs file past Graves into the belly of the plane,
game faces on, equipment ready to go.

It’s like walking out of the Super Bowl tunnel. This is as

bad-ass as it gets.

Ortiz and Caulder are next to last, Caulder still pulling on

his gear.

Graves gives Caulder a baleful look, then gets in last and

the ramp shuts behind him.

As the C-17 rumbles down the runway, the huge, glowing sun of
Africa liquefies against the horizon and DISAPPEARS.
 5/22/15 49

INT. C-17 GLOBEMASTER - NIGHT

Out of the rumbling DARKNESS, the ramp of the C-17 opens,

revealing a stormy night sky. Lightning FLASHES, and the
plane LURCHES.

Graves pukes into a bag. He always gets sick on night jumps,

that’s just the way it is.

The jump light turns on, GLOWS RED. Graves motions and he and
the SEALs stand.

They turn and inspect each other’s chutes, tracing the

ripcord housing and pins. Graves checks Caulder’s chute,
then, as Caulder turns to his:

PILOT (V.O.)
(through Graves’s radio)
One minute to drop zone.

Graves waves Caulder away as the plane JOLTS. Caulder hands

the barf bag to Ortiz, who WRITES “#267” on the outside.

CAULDER
No man, it’s 268. 267 was over
Yemen.

BUCKLEY
Naw, it’s 269. 268 was Yemen.

GRAVES
Fuck you guys. And keep your
interval.

As they move to the ramp, Ortiz crosses out the “7” and
writes a “9,” then TOSSES the bag out into the roaring
slipstream. WHOOSH.

PILOT (V.O.)
Thirty seconds.

Graves holds up two pinched fingers, passing the time hack.

The wind WHIPS through the cabin, pulling at the SEALs,

buffeting their bodies. The noise is DEAFENING.

The C-17 SHUDDERS in the storm and the men fight to keep
their balance on the edge of the abyss.

Graves looks at the jump light: STILL RED.

We see their faces, one by one. Pupils dilating. Tension

building. Fucking electric.
 5/22/15 50

Finally, the light FLASHES GREEN.

PILOT (V.O.)
Clear to drop.

Graves SLICES the straps holding back a huge box--A BOAT--and

it CAREENS down the ramp, hits the edge, and vanishes.

Graves points. GO, GO, GO!

The SEALs hurl themselves into the emptiness. Then it’s just
Graves. He LEAPS and--we leap with him.

EXT. NIGHT SKY

The DEAFENING rumble of the C-17 fades, replaced by the RUSH

of wind.

We’re FLYING.

Graves orients himself to his teammates falling below him

before they’re devoured by a massive, flashing THUNDERCLOUD.

Graves hits it a second later, all visibility gone. Lightning

CRACKLES all around him, black vapor roiling.

Doesn’t matter. The SEALs find each other in the maelstrom

and LINK UP, falling in unison.

Graves checks his altimeter. When it hits 4500 feet, he turns

away, and everyone turns with him, spacing out to pull.

He waves off, reaches behind him, and throws out his main
chute. The chute deploys but DOESN’T OPEN.

Holy shit!

He DROPS, whooshing past his teammates at one hundred miles

per hour as their canopies SNAP open. He narrowly avoids
smashing into them and bringing them all down.

Working to clear the malfunction, Graves breaks through the

clouds and the sky opens up, star-filled, vast, reflected on
the black, oily OCEAN rushing up to meet him.

Graves yanks the cut away pillow--his useless main chute

releases and FLUTTERS away--then he pulls the reserve ripcord
and looks behind him. If the reserve doesn’t open, he’s dead.

After several heart-stopping moments, the reserve chute

catches and RIPS OUT the reserve canopy, arresting his fall
in an instant, PUNCHING the air from his lungs.
 5/22/15 51

His other senses flood back, and Graves can HEAR again. His
earpiece CRACKLES to life.

CAULDER (V.O.)
--good canopy, over?

GRAVES
(into radio)
Hammer One has a good canopy.

CAULDER (V.O.)
Roger. All good canopies. Just had
to get down there first, didn’t
you?

GRAVES
(into radio)
Stack on me.

EXT. NIGHT SKY - CONTINOUS

The SEALs fly their canopies into position, stacking up in a

staircase formation, low man (Graves) leading, their dark
shapes silent and silvery, the only sound the FLAP of their
fabric chutes. It looks like a beautiful flowing helix.

Graves makes one last turn and the sound of the CHURNING sea
reaches him. WAVES. Huge white-capped waves, clawing up at
the SEALs, big as mountains.

Graves unbuckles his waist strap and in what feels like an

instant a hundred feet of altitude turns to zero and--

SPLASH.

EXT. OCEAN - CONTINUOUS

Graves goes under, the chute curling around him, threatening

to pull him down before he swims free, BREAKS through to the--

SURFACE. Where a waves PUMMELS him, crashing overhead. He

looks around.

GRAVES
Where’s the fucking boat?

Turns 360 degrees, waves splashing in his face. Finally sees

the blinking light of the boat, swims strongly toward it.
 5/22/15 52

EXT. OCEAN, BOAT - MOMENT LATER

He’s the first one there, and he pulls Caulder up after him,
the two of them helping the rest of the SEALs over the
gunwales in the steep rise and fall of the swells.

Graves takes a head count, ensures everyone’s on board.

Every man has a job to do, and in minutes, they’ve fired up

the silent-running engines, and SPEED toward their target.

We follow them, tilting up to reveal the glittering lights of

a sprawling metropolis in the distance.

ON SCREEN: LAGOS, NIGERIA

EXT. LAGOS HARBOR - NIGHT

The boat slips quietly within sight of an abandoned, blacked

out OIL TANKER--one of many rusting hulks dotting the bay
like colossal tombstones.

We see a GREEN OUTLINE of the dark ship as Graves finds the

ship name through his scope: AFRICAN QUEEN.

GRAVES
That’s it.

EXT. OIL TANKER - NIGHT

The boat slips up next to the ship and the SEALs extend the
telescoping boarding LADDER.

Up close like this, the tanker TOWERS over them, five stories
tall, all sheer steel and metal.

Ortiz and Caulder struggle to hook the ladder on to the

railing, but the waves SLAM the boat against the hull, and
they miss.

At the helm, the Crewman from the brief who jumped in with
them fights to keep the boat in position. They try again,
miss again, so close, the waves picking up.

GRAVES
Any day.

One more chance, straining, reaching, and--they get it!

Graves nods and one by one, the SEALs climb, and just like
during the jump, Graves is last to go.
 5/22/15 53

The Crewman BANKS the boat away, takes up position in the

darkness nearby.

EXT. OIL TANKER DECK - NIGHT

An African GUARD finishes his cigarette and smashes it with a

scuffed, designer dress shoe.

Caulder grabs him from behind and KNIFES him, covers his
mouth as he dies. It’s up-close, very personal.

The SEALs drag his body into the darkness and keep moving.

OVERHEAD ANGLE: the SEALs move down both sides of the super
structure before disappearing into the ship.

INT. CREW STAIRWELL - NIGHT

The two SEAL elements join up and flow down the frayed carpet
stairs, pushing toward:

INT. OFFICERS CORRIDOR - NIGHT

An African BODYGUARD emerges from a door and crosses a wide,

INTERSECTING HALLWAY. Doorways run down both sides.

The Bodyguard enters the first door--a toilet, closing it

behind him, just as--

--the SEALs appear, silently moving down the corridor.

The SEALs PASS BY the intersection, and stack up outside the

door the Bodyguard just left.

They hear VOICES inside.

INT. TOILET - NIGHT

The Bodyguard SNORTS up a line of COKE. His combat harness,

loaded with GRENADES, CLINKS lightly against the sink.

INT. OFFICERS CORRIDOR - NIGHT

Graves nods at Caulder, who gently eases the door open.

Graves barrels in, the rest of the team right behind him and--
 5/22/15 54

INT. OFFICERS MESS - MOMENTS LATER

With Graves, in the zone. Time SLOWS--four GUARDS, four hands

going to weapons--then SPEEDS UP, and in an instant, four
dead bodies hit the floor from SUPPRESSED rounds. It’s over
that fast.

Their objective, untouched, sits in a leather chair,

paperwork on his lap, an unspilled drink in his hand.

GRAVES
Aidid Farid?

Graves holds up his device, MATCHING a digital image of Aidid

with the man in front of him. It takes a FLASH photo, and
Aidid blinks.

AIDID
Those men you murdered, they had
families.

CAULDER
Why don’t you finish that? I would.

Aidid looks at him blankly. Caulder nods at Aidid’s drink.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
Laphroig, right? I can smell it
from here.

AIDID
I can smell you from here.

Aidid downs the Scotch before the massive Goodnight rips

Aidid to his feet and zip-ties him.

Papers go FLUTTERING. Aidid’s glass SHATTERS.

INT. TOILET - SAME

The Bodyguard stands into frame, white powder on his nose.

What was that? He strains to listen. But, fuck, he’s high.

INT. OFFICERS MESS - MOMENTS LATER

Caulder, Ortiz, Buckley, and the rest of the SEALs ransack

the room for files, laptops, any kind of intel.

Caulder holds up a RIFLE from one of the dead guards.

 5/22/15 55

CAULDER
Type-95. Chinese PLA. State of the
art. Never seen one of these babies
in action before.
(to Aidid)
Where’d you get this?

AIDID
Amazon.

Caulder winks at Graves. Watch this.

CAULDER
That’s almost as funny as those
photos we have of you sucking
Jewish cock.

AIDID
(suddenly infuriated)
You fucking fag infidels, I’ll
spoon your brains out of your
skulls! I’ll choke you with your
own--

Graves nods to Goodnight, who SLAPS a strip of duct tape over

Aidid’s mouth.

CAULDER
“Fucking fag infidels.” Has a nice
ring to it. Alliteration.

GRAVES
(to the SEALs)
Tag everything you can’t take. We
step in thirty seconds.

The SEALs stuff everything they can into carry sacks. Take
photos of what they can’t.

CAULDER
Vegas, baby.

He displays an open duffle bag. It’s full of MONEY--Euros.

GRAVES
Bring it.

EXT. OFFICERS CORRIDOR - MOMENTS LATER

The SEALs enter the corridor. Buckley in front. Goodnight

with Aidid in the middle. Ortiz, Caulder, and Graves bringing
up the rear. Caulder has the duffle full of money. They head
toward the intersection.
 5/22/15 56

INT. TOILET - MOMENTS LATER

The Bodyguard cracks open the door, peeks out.

HIS POV: The first SEALs crossing the intersection, covering

each other as they go.

The Bodyguard quickly closes the door. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He

looks at himself in the mirror, tries to pump himself up.

INT. OFFICERS CORRIDOR - MOMENTS LATER

Goodnight pushes Aidid across the intersection. It’s only

Ortiz, Graves, and Caulder left, and as Ortiz gets up to
move, the Bodyguard FLINGS open the toilet door, shooting and
yelling, and TOSSES A GRENADE.

Caulder doesn't see it--he UNLOADS on the guy with his MP-7,
dropping him--but Graves does. For a milli-second he
registers the grenade, but before he reacts, Ortiz shoves him
aside and JUMPS ON IT.

THE BLAST rips a hole in Ortiz, and knocks Graves and Caulder
on their asses.

And then ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE.

ENEMY FIGHTERS pour into both ends of the hallway, CUTTING

off Graves and Caulder from the rest of the SEALs.

Graves reacts, running into the BARRAGE. A ROUND GLANCES off

his HELMET, SHATTERING HIS NVGS, before he drags Ortiz back
to Caulder, who’s returning fire.

CAULDER
(to Ortiz)
Stay with us, Ricky! Stay with us!

Ortiz COUGHS up blood and CLAWS at Graves. It’s not pretty.

GRAVES
Get your gun up.

Ortiz’s wild eyes focus on him, and he tries to do what

Graves says, but he can barely raise his weapon. Now we see
why: Graves is plastering a field bandage onto Ortiz’s
stomach, trying to hold his guts inside.

CAULDER
(into radio)
Hammer Three, Hammer Two, we’ve got
an Eagle down. What’s your status?
 5/22/15 57

Buckley, Goodnight, and the rest of the SEALs on the other

side of the intersection try to fight their way back to
Graves and Caulder, but it’s all muzzle flashes and smoke.

BUCKLEY
(into radio)
Everyone mobile. But can’t get to
you.

Gunfire and shouting all but drown out the words.

CAULDER
Can’t stay here!

Graves hefts Ortiz onto his shoulders, grunting under the

weight. Caulder lays down covering fire.

GRAVES
(into radio)
Get the package to Exfil Site
Yankee. We’ll meet you there.

BUCKLEY (V.O.)
Roger that.

Through the smoke and gunfire, Buckley and the rest of SEALs
head up the stairs with Aidid in tow.

INT. OFFICERS CORRIDOR - MOMENTS LATER

Graves and Caulder RUN down the corridor. Graves has Ortiz,
Caulder has the bag of money.

They turn down another hallway, reach a stairwell, but it

goes down. Graves stops, looks back the way they came. SHOUTS
and FOOTSTEPS from behind them.

CAULDER
Go! Go!

They go down.

GRAVES
(into radio)
Moving into grid Bravo Two Charlie.

STATIC. No response. He tries again.

GRAVES (CONT’D)
(into radio)
Hammer One proceeding to grid Bravo
Two Charlie. Any Hammer respond.
 5/22/15 58

A GARBLED RESPONSE, then more STATIC. They’re on their own.

INT. ENGINE ROOM UPPER LEVEL - MOMENTS LATER

Caulder and Graves run through the cavernous, half-flooded

engine room, covering each other as they pass the massive,
rusting boilers and endless, snaking pipes.

Suddenly, SHOUTS. They’ve been spotted.

BULLETS SPARK and RICOCHET around them. They’re forced down

another set of stairs, deeper into the belly of the ship.

INT. ENGINE ROOM LOWER LEVEL - MOMENTS LATER

Graves and Caulder SLOSH through dark, knee-high water before

the submerged, steel catwalks rise and converge, funneling
into a SINGLE PASSAGEWAY.

Graves stumbles.

CAULDER
Give him to me.

Graves shrugs Ortiz back onto his shoulders.

CAULDER (CONT’D)
Or not.

GRAVES
(into radio)
Approaching Bravo Three Charlie.

INT. SINGLE PASSAGEWAY - MOMENTS LATER

Graves and Caulder push ahead, Caulder shooting the LIGHTS

out as they go. More ENEMY FIGHTERS flood into the engine
room behind them, their TAUNTS echoing down the corridor.

Up ahead, an old rusted door has been CHAINED shut. It’s a

dead-end. The SEALs are trapped, and there’s no cover.

Ortiz fights for air, gasping loudly, while Graves tries to

keep his breathing passage open.

GRAVES
(to Ortiz)
Don’t you fucking quit!

Caulder pulls out a SLEDGEHAMMER from his kit, extends the

handle. He winds up and SLAMS the lock. It barely moves.
 5/22/15 59

GRAVES (CONT’D)
Take out your tampon and try again.

Caulder sets down the money and pulls out a BREACHING CHARGE.

BULLETS start SKIPPING down the corridor, DEFLECTING against

the door. They’re in a funnel, with nowhere to hide.

Graves tries to shield Ortiz behind a bulkhead but the rounds

are flying all around them. Graves shoots back and Caulder
preps the CHARGE.

Down the corridor, the Fighters jeer and call out insults,
picking up their rate of fire into a WITHERING BARRAGE.

A GRENADE arcs out of the darkness, hits the door, and

bounces next to the SEALs. This time, Graves doesn’t
hesitate. He grabs it and throws it back.

GRAVES (CONT’D)
Down!

Caulder slumps lower but keeps working on the charge, and the
grenade EXPLODES mid-air.

CAULDER
Ready.

GRAVES
Go.

Graves lays down COVERING FIRE as Caulder sets the charge,

then dives back down next to Graves. A beat, then:

CAULDER
It’s going to blow us up too.

GRAVES
If you didn’t fuck up the primer.

They exchange a glance; it’s the closest we’re going to get

to the “it was an honor to serve with you” moment before--

The Fighters YELL and make a RUSH at them and--

The charge DETONATES with a deafening blast. The door

EXPLODES over the SEALs’ heads and misses them by fucking
MILLIMETERS before it HURTLES down the corridor in a FLAMING
fireball, SLICING through the charging Fighters, leaving
bodies and body parts in its wake. Smoke everywhere.

More Fighters rush forward to take their place, but when the
smoke clears, the SEALs are gone.
 5/22/15 60

INT. STAIRWELL - MOMENTS LATER

Their faces BLACKENED with soot from the near-miss, Graves

and Caulder struggle up a stairwell, carrying the very heavy
Ortiz and the bag of money.

GRAVES
(into radio)
We’re in Alpha Four Charlie.

Caulder’s knee is starting to give out. He’s limping as he

returns fire.

Graves’s face pours sweat. He’s losing steam. Ortiz is a

massive dead weight. But Graves’s eyes burn with
determination. This is his literal cross to bear.

They make one more turn and claw up the last few steps, all
their focus on a HATCH at the top of the stairs.

GRAVES (CONT’D)
(into radio)
Coming out.

Bullets PING against the grating under their boots. The

Fighters are RIGHT BEHIND THEM. Graves throws open the hatch
and--

EXT. DECK - NIGHT

--Graves and Caulder stumble out onto the pitch-black, eerily

QUIET open deck, their breath RAGGED.

They stagger toward some old piping and shipping containers,

but they’re not going to make it: the first pursuing FIGHTERS
appear in the doorway, take aim, and--

The night goes INCANDESCENT with light and sound as Buckley

and the rest of the waiting SEALs gun down the Fighters from
behind cover. Aidid Farid lies hog-tied at their feet.

Graves and Caulder stumble past their teammates and collapse,

setting down Ortiz. Spent casings fall all around them.

Graves and Caulder both bend over Ortiz, checking his vitals,
tightening the bandage around his belly, clearing his airway.

Graves blows into Ortiz’s mouth, desperate.

His eyes infinitely sad, Caulder reaches out and touches

Graves on the shoulder.
 5/22/15 61

We hear the BEATING ROTORS of an approaching HELICOPTER

before SOUND FADES.

A SILENT MUZZLE FLASH illuminates Graves’s haunted face and

we CUT TO:

DARKNESS.

EXT. AFRICA, HOSTAGE CAMP - DAY

Bits of kaleidoscopic LIGHT filter through Rip’s blindfold,

and he can barely make out a thick overhead jungle canopy
before the truck he’s riding in skids to a stop.

SHOUTING and YELLING as he’s dragged out.

INT. CELL - MOMENTS LATER

Unseen men throw Rip to the ground, his hands tied tightly
behind his back. We HEAR them retreat, and Rip masters his
breathing. Listens.

Approaching FOOT STEPS. Three men. A shuffling then silence.

Rip’s blindfold is yanked off.

The first thing he sees is the video camera.

Next to it, the Mujahadeen towers over Rip, holding his

crossbow, while a CHINESE MAN in a polo shirt and slacks
observes by the door, his expression impossible to read.

There’s another man in the shadows. He moves into the light,

and Rip scrambles back into the wall, his eyes bugging.

RIP
What are you doing here?

OMAR watches him, his face a mirror image of his dead

brother’s. His head tilts in interest.

OMAR
Have we met?

RIP
No.

Omar studies him intently. Oh, shit. Does he know?

OMAR
Right on. Well, I’m Omar.
 5/22/15 62

He offers his hand. When Rip doesn’t take it, the

Mujahadeen’s boot SMASHES him in the face.

OMAR (CONT’D)
That’s Akmal. He fought the Soviets
in Afghanistan. When he was ten.
Straight-up OG. So that’s us.

As Rip struggles to his feet, Omar takes a seat on a folding

chair and indicates the camera.

OMAR (CONT’D)
Why don’t you tell us a little bit
about you?

He nods at AKMAL, who presses record. The red light BLINKS.

We push in on Rip’s distorted reflection in the LENS.

INT. C-17 - DAY

ORTIZ’S FLAG-DRAPED BODY BAG is on a gurney that’s tied down

with cargo straps.

Caulder and Graves sit on either side, facing each other but
not meeting each other’s eyes. The plane vibrates and hums,
really too loud to talk.

We linger on their faces, one at a time. Their warrior masks

are slowly dissolving. They’re headed home. Back to the
world. With their dead partner.

EXT. VIRGINIA BEACH NAVAL BASE - DAY

The SEALs emerge from the rear of the plane, escorting

Ortiz’s body on the gurney.

I/E. GRAVE’S TRUCK - LATER

It’s late afternoon when Graves drives his black F-150 truck
into Ortiz’s driveway. Next to him, Caulder parks his
rumbling vintage Triumph motorcycle and gets off.

Caulder stops outside Graves’s truck, waiting, but he can’t

see through the smoke-tinted window.

Inside, Graves doesn’t move. He can’t.

Graves grip and re-grips the wheel as he watches Caulder

climb the steps and knock on the door.
 5/22/15 63

A moment later, Jackie appears. We see him speak to her MOS.

She stares at him, shaking her head. Her face dissolves into
a mask of desperate disbelief and grief.

She collapses into Caulder’s arms.

We don’t hear anything except Graves’s jagged breathing.

CUT TO BLACK.