Infanticide 2
(if you haven't already peeked at the first scene, dear readers, I suggest you do so, but if you have and were thoroughly disgusted and cannot bear to think about it any longer, than I implore you to continue)
Two title cards appear on a black screen:
1982 (at the moment)
New York City (for now)
Fade onto a panning shot of New York City caught in the thrush of a new decade full of rebellion and hideous clothing styles and what's soon to be a killer with quite a unique M.O.
The shot continues to fly about NYC until it circles around to rest hovering over an unassuming building smushed in between other larger, more important-looking establishments. The two qualities that set this building apart are its bright pink paint job and the large letters adorning its front, spelling out "Precious Angels Daycare & Nursery."
Cut to a series of tight shots of a man slipping objects into various holsters on his person. Wide shot of the man with his back to the camera. Notice his afro and race (which is African-American). As he turns, the shot zooms out revealing several things: one, the objects in the holsters are milk bottles, pacifiers, and baby wipes (among other things). And two, he's standing hands on his hips among a crowd of giggling, drooling babies.
The man's bushy sideburns expand with his smile as he steps among the babies, applying powder and diapers and pacifiers where need be, clearly enjoying his job. Bouncy music plays as this contrast between formidable black brotha and ultimate nanny plays out.
He looks up from his merry business however, when his assistant enters the room. Sam, a girl who is the epitome of "punk" culture pops gum in her mouth and chews it sassily, holding a corded phone in her hand. Her otherwise pretty face is spattered with rings of all sorts and sizes, and her hair is spiked up in a dazzling pink that perfectly matches the color of the nursery.
Sam: You got a call, mista.
The Nanny: Can't you see I'm busy, Sammy?
He pops a pacifier into a child's gooey mouth.
Sam: It's from Cheree.
The Nanny: Tell her I'm not here.
Sam (holds phone up to her ear): He's says he's not here.
The Nanny sighs dejectedly and gives Sam a look before snatching the phone out of her hand.
The Nanny: Hey, Cheree. You're callin' on business hours, so--
Garbled static hisses from the phone.
The Nanny: Yeah, it's lunchtime, but babies don't operate on schedules.
More static. He gives another sigh.
The Nanny: A'ight, I'll meetcha at Jerry's Pop & Burger Joint in five. Bye.
Hands the phone back to Sam.
The Nanny: Can you watch the place while I'm gone?
Sam: Will do, boss-man.
She takes her gum, places it behind her ear, and goes to replace the phone in it's cradle.
Cut to The Nanny grabbing his beaten leather jacket and slipping it over his shoulders. He gives one infant a loving pat on the head before heading for the door.
Cut to Sam re-entering the room, a cigarette poking out between her lips. The Nanny notices this, and his eyes widen, accompanied by a dramatic zoom into his face. The next shot is a zoom from his view point to the tip of Sam's cigarette, as several crumbles of sizzling ash fall from it's tip, heading straight for a baby's head.
With the speed of a large jungle cat, the Nanny snap-kicks a small empty dish (presumably used for candy) sitting on a table by the door. It goes spinning through the air as we cut to a slow-motion shot of the ash falling towards the child's head. The dish enters the frame picking up the ash just in time.
Cut to regular time as the metal disk sails onto a table at the other side of the room.
Sam and the Nanny exchange looks.
The Nanny: Don't smoke around the babies.
Sam rolls her eyes before taking the wad of gum out from behind her ear and squashing her cigarette in it.
The Nanny: That's better.
The black panther flips his collar before striding out of the glass door, leaving it swinging behind him.
(have at it dear readers, and like I stated previously: there will be more to come, and the plot will thicken most heavily)
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