One of the most intriguing openings you can see. Use of enigma code is heavy throughout and gets the audience asking questions. Lets look at the sequence and then how you script something like this.
1 -BLACK
The lonely sound of a buoy bell in the distance. Water
slapping against a smooth, flat surface in rhythm. The
creaking of wood.
Off in the very far distance, one can make out the sound of
sirens.
SUDDENLY, a single match ignites and invades the darkness. It
quivers for a moment. A dimly lit hand brings the rest of the
pack to the match. A plume of yellow-white flame flares and
illuminates the battered face of DEAN KEATON, age forty. His
salty-gray hair is wet and matted. His face drips with water
or sweat. A large cut runs the length of his face from the
corner of his eye to his chin. It bleeds freely. An un-lit
cigarette hangs in the corner of his mouth.
In the half-light we can make out that he is on the deck of a
large boat. A yacht, perhaps, or a small freighter. He sits
with his back against the front bulkhead of the wheel house.
His legs are twisted at odd, almost impossible angles. He
looks down.
A thin trail of liquid runs past his feet and off into the
darkness. Keaton lights the cigarette on the burning pack of
matches before throwing them into the liquid.
The liquid IGNITES with a poof.
The flame runs up the stream, gaining in speed and intensity.
It begins to ripple and rumble as it runs down the deck
towards the stern.
2 EXT. BOAT - NIGHT - STERN 2'
A stack of oil drums rests on the stern. They are stacked on
a palette with ropes at each corner that attach it to a huge
crane on the dock. One of the barrels has been punctured at
it's base. Gasoline trickles freely from the hole.
The flame is racing now towards the barrels. Keaton smiles
weakly to himself.
The flame is within a few yards of the barrels when another
stream of liquid splashes onto the gas. The flame fizzles out
pitifully with a hiss.
Two feet straddle the flame. A stream of urine flows onto the
deck from between them. The sound of a fly zipping. Follow the feet as they move over
to where Keaton rests at the wheel house.
CRANE UP to the waist of the unknown man. He pulls a pack of
cigarettes out of one pocket and a strange antique lighter
from the other. It is gold, with a clasp that folds down over
the flint. The man flicks up the clasp with his thumb and
strikes it with his index finger. It is a fluid motion,
somewhat showy.
Keaton looks up at the man. A look of realization crosses his
face. It is followed by frustration, anger, and finally
resignation.
VOICE (O.S.) How are you, Keaton?
KEATON I'd have to say my spine was broken,
Keyser.
He spits the name out like it was poison.
The man puts the lighter back in his pocket and reaches under
his jacket. He produces a stainless .38 revolver.
VOICE (O.S.) Ready?
KEATON What time is it?
The hand with the gun turns over, turning the gold watch on
its wrist upward.
The sound of sirens is closer now. Headed this way.
VOICE (O.S.) Twelve thirty.
Keaton grimaces bitterly and nods. He turns his head away and
takes another drag.
The hand with the gun waits long enough for Keaton to enjoy
his last drag before pulling the trigger.
GUNSHOT
The sound of Keaton's body slumping onto the deck.
MOVE OUT ACROSS THE DECK. Below is the stream of gasoline
still flowing freely.
The sound of the gasoline igniting. The flame runs in front
of us towards the barrels, finally leaping up in a circle
around the drums, burning the wood of the pallet and licking
the spouting stream as it pours from the hole.
MOVE OUT ACROSS THE DOCK, away from the boat.
The pier to which the boat is moored is littered with DEAD
BODIES. Twenty or more men have been shot to pieces and lie
scattered everywhere in what can only be the aftermath of a
fierce fire-fight.
A BARGE COMES INTO VIEW.
On the deck of the barge is a tangle of cables and girders.
The mesh of steel and rubber leaves a dark and open cocoon
beneath its base.
MOVE INTO THE DARKNESS.
Sirens are close now. Almost here. The sound of fire raging
out of control.
SIRENS BLARING. TIRES SQUEALING. CAR DOORS OPENING. FEET POUNDING THE PAVEMENT.
MOVE FURTHER, SLOWER, INTO THE DARKNESS
Voices yelling. New light flickering in the surrounding
darkness.
SUDDENLY, AN EXPLOSION.
Then silence. TOTAL BLACKNESS.
Locations used are shown in the script. There would have been a lot of health and safety concerns. Interestingly, we didn't need to see the boat getting blown up, just a ball of flames. That saved some money.
