Mike Roote - Enter The Dragon

TANDEM

Enter The Dragon JOIN OR DIE!

Join Hans sinister army, out to conquer the world!

or...

Die at the hands of the brutal Kung Fu killers!

Lee had to make the choice, knowing full well the evil he had to combat either way. It was-a menace to all that the world called honourable... and a savage struggle to the death.

Enter The Dragon

Mike Roote

Original screenplay by Michael Allin

I

Destination: Hong Kong

They were an army in miniature, as single-minded and potentially deadly as any group of well-trained soldiers. Williams stood silently in the doorway and watched them drill, their feet hitting the floor with angry precision as they moved through the ritual exercises. He smiled as they pivoted on their left feet, turning their little bodies and kicking outward in the dragon stamp; they did it well, with force and grace. Their small, brown, intent faces shone above the white cotton of their karate uniforms; without hesitation the children thrust and kicked, stamped and blocked in unison, following the moves of the tall, powerful black man who led them through the drill. The leader also wore a white gi, the karate uniform; it hugged his lean waist where it was held in by the coveted black belt.

As he turned his head toward the door in a rice-line move, the instructor caught sight of Williams, standing quietly, his heavy, suitcase held easily in his left hand. A grin split the instructors broad dark face, which glistened with crystal beads of sweat. He reached forward into the first rank of kids facing him, grabbed one boy by the shoulders and set him in his own place to continue leading the drill. Then he strode over to Williams, holding his hand out palm up, in friendship.

Hey, man, youre really going!

Williams slapped him five without a word, only nod-ding and smiling. The two men looked long at each other in silent, friendly communication.

Came to say ... Williams began.

I know.

They shook hands again. This time it was a full handshake, slow and firm. Then the instructor grabbed the younger man in an affectionate bear hug. Williams picked up his suitcase and, without another word, turned on his heel and left the karate school. Behind him he could hear the kids still drilling and he imagined a black army of the future, each unit a perfectly-trained and weaponless killing machine.

Williams headed up the street with the quick grace of the disciplined athlete. His long legs, heavily muscled from years of football, ate up the ground. Intent on the completely new experience his recent decision had opened up, he neither saw nor heard the black- and-white squad car pull out of its parking space and follow after him.

The cops in the front seat kept their eyes on Williams. They had nothing on the young black man; he fitted no description on their wanted list, but the arrogant grace of his long, well-muscled body had antagonized them. Besides, things were too quiet in Watts these days. It had been a long time since theyd kicked black ass.

As Williams was about to cross a long, garbage-filled alley way, the squad car roared up and screeched to a stop. Its doors slammed and the two officers came out on the run. One of them was young. His hair grew long on the back of his neck, peeping out from beneath his uniform cap. The other was a burly man who looked close to fortyhis heavy muscular frame beginning to go to flab. He was slower on his feet than his younger partner, but more experienced and just as formidable.

Pouncing on the unsuspecting Williams, they shoved him roughly up against the wall, hands far apart, legs spread-eagled as they frisked him crudely and savagely. From his jacket pockets the younger cop removed a ticket, still in its TWA envelope, a green-and-gold-covered passport, and a small, exquisite scroll lettered in Chinese calligraphy. He showed his finds to his partner, who grunted in surprise.

Hey, this jigs got a passport! Leavin town, are ya?

Where ya goin, jig? echoed the younger officer.

The burly cop had clumsily unrolled the scroll, and now he held it by its delicate golden handle, peering dully and without comprehension at the graceful, feathery Chinese characters.

What the hells this? Some kind of commie shit?

Wheres the plane ticket for? the younger man said.

Williams stood silent, his face unreadable, as the older officer took the ticket out of its envelope and read it

Hong Kong.

Yeah, confirmed his partner. Hes a commie. Theyre all commies.

The older cop went on reading. Hong Kong via Hawaii.

Hawaii! The other officers voice cracked hoarsely with jealous fury. Hes going to Hawaii? It was too much for him to take. With the head of his nightstick he prodded Williams savagely in the ribs, shoving him back into the alley. Hes not going to Hawaii! he growled.

With a lightning-swift knife-hand karate chop, Williams broke the nightstick in two. He stood solidly on his feet, electric with ready energy, waiting.

After five dumbfounded seconds, the younger cop grinned evilly. Well, look what we got here.

His beefy partner scanned the empty street from side to side. Satisfied, he snarled, Assaulting an officer! The two men moved deeper into the alley, circling Williams, itching to work him over.

Moving in for the kill, the older, heavier officer grabbed the tall young black man from behind, seizing his upper arms in a bulldog grip and holding him fast In front of Williams, the younger cop held him by the collar of his nylon windbreaker and drew his right arm back to deliver a cruel punch to Williams face.

With a swiftness that no human eye could follow, Williams moved. And with what appeared to be a mini-mum of effort, he raised his pinioned arms and thrust back sharply, striking the beefy cop full in the solar plexus with both elbows. With a mixed scream and groan, the older cop staggered back, releasing Williams arms as he struggled to keep his balance. Bringing his legs into kicking position, the young black struck the cop in front of him with a wrist blow to the chin and simultaneously kicked backward, catching the older man in the groin. The policeman uttered a high, thin, choked scream, and retched helplessly as his face dropped into the stinking garbage on the ground. Turn-ing his full attention to the younger cop who wavered unsteadily in front of him, Williams polished him off deftly with a roundhouse kick to the head. As the ball of the black mans foot connected with the young cops temple, the cop dropped like an ox in a slaughterhouse, falling backward among the garbage cans, and lay still as the cans clattered noisily around him.

Williams didnt bother to see if either man was breathing. It was surely no concern of his. He strode quickly out of the alley, looking neither to right or left. With a downward scoop, he retrieved his ticket, his passport and the scroll, and threw his suitcase into the back seat of the squad car. Slipping behind the wheel, he allowed himself a brief grin of satisfaction. He was in a hurry to make that Hong Kong plane, and this ole police vehicle beat a taxi any day in the week. Chuckling, he turned on the siren and the flashers, and stepped down hard on the gas pedal as he aimed the squad car for the freeway that led to Los Angeles International Airport and the adventure that lay ahead. Siren screaming, flashers blazing, Williams was certainly starting out in style.

The slight but usual San Francisco overcast turned the green of the golf course into pure emerald. Tie course stretched out for eighteen tricky holes along the side of one of the citys many hills, hugging the mountains contours with its difficult terrain. The putting green on the fourth hole shone like velvet, and the white dimpled ball gleamed like a pearl in the hazed- over sunlight. Roper flexed the club in his powerful hands and carefully assessed the length of the putt. It was a long mother. The hole winked malevolently at him from fifty-five feet away.