HOUSE OF CARDS
Written By
David King
INT. POKER DEN – NIGHT
CLOSE on POKER HAND as it is triumphantly laid face-up on a table – a king-high straight.
Four men sit around a poker table, surrounded by a small throng of people, watching the game. They LAUGH and clap politely as the DEALER nods to the winner, MARCUS, late 20s, suave and debonair, a smooth operator in his sportcoat. He smiles as he pulls the pile of POKER CHIPS from the middle of the table to him – he’s already got a decent stack of chips on his side. The three other PLAYERS at the table glower, their chip-piles dwindling, and try to remain composed. Marcus just smirks – he loves the attention.
The Dealer passes out the cards. Marcus takes his cards, fans them before him.
MARCUS’ POV – THE CARDS, a two-pair: two 4s, two 10s, and a King of Spades.
Marcus’ brows furrow - it’s not a bad hand, but it could be much better.
DEALER
Place your bets, please.
Marcus pushes a small stack of chips into the middle of the table. The player on his right sighs, folds. The next player, PLAYER 2, does the same with a grimace. Marcus eyes PLAYER 1 across the table. Player 1 meets it evenly, smiles, adds an equal amount of his own chips to the pot. At a nod from the Dealer, Player 1 puts down his hand: a straight. Marcus glances at his own cards. Player 1 smiles – he’s got this one in the bag for a change.
Coolly, Marcus flicks a thumb against his cards before laying them out on the table. CLOSE on the hand...A ROYAL FLUSH. The cards have changed!
APPLAUSE from the onlookers. Player 1’s face falls. Marcus takes the pot with a wan smile. Frustrated, Player 1 nudges Player 2.
PLAYER 1
(quietly)
You sure this guy isn’t cheating?
PLAYER 2
(quietly)
Who knows. He’s a pro. They call him “The Magician” for a reason.
INT. ARCANA BAR – NIGHT
The BARTOP has been decorated with glossy TAROT CARDS of the major arcana.
Marcus and some of the ONLOOKERS from earlier are seated at the far end of the bar. The laugh uproariously at some private joke, and one of them claps Marcus on the back. He chuckles and takes a drink of his beer. As he sets it down again, he happens to glance down the bar, away from his entourage. Something catches his eye...
MARCUS’ POV: a WOMAN, late 20s, sitting at the far end of the bar, close to the front door. She’s pretty good-looking, dressed in black, silky clothing.
Marcus raises an eyebrow, smirks. From his shirt pocket he gets out a small HAND MIRROR, checks his reflection. He checks his breath. Satisfied, he makes an “I’ll be right back” gesture to his friends, gets up and moves down the bar to sit beside her. This is HARRIET. Up close, WE SEE she wears designer glasses and a fair amount of makeup. A RED BISHOP chess piece hangs from a chord around her neck. She’s staring at the bartop as if transfixed. A single, half-full glass of BOURBON rests near her.
MARCUS
(suave)
Mind if I--
She looks up at him, half-smiles. A nod. Marcus takes his seat.
MARCUS (CONT’D)
--drink?
She shakes her head, no. Marcus looks slightly put-off. Harriet seems oblivious to this.
HARRIET
You’re that hotshot at poker.
MARCUS
(cool)
I just have a knack for the game.
(beat)
Name's Marcus.
Harriet seems intrigued. Idly, she toys with her Bishop necklace.
HARRIET
They say you have a magic touch.
Marcus can’t help but grin: she seems like she’s coming on to him.
MARCUS
I’ve been called The Magician. I’m considering going professional.
HARRIET
(abruptly)
They say the Tower brings disaster.
Marcus blinks, confused. Harriet smirks, points to the bar in front of Marcus.
ANGLE ON - the bar. In front of Marcus is the TOWER. Harriet has the CHARIOT in front of her.
He looks up again. She’s still smiling. She spins the Bishop between her fingers. Something about her is unnerving.
HARRIET (CONT’D)
Not your fault. You picked a bad place to sit. That’s luck.
That said, Harriet drains what’s left of her drink in one gulp. Marcus, bewildered, watches as she gets up.
CLOSE on THE BISHOP, swaying back and forth as she stands.
She doesn’t offer a backward glance as she throws a black coat across her shoulders and saunters out of the bar. Marcus stares after her; what the hell was that about?
INT. MARCUS’ HOME – DEN - LATER
A comfortably-appointed den. The lights are low; the atmosphere is mysterious
Marcus kneels on the floor. There is a BRASS BOWL and a DECK OF CARDS on the floor in front of him, and a PLASTIC BAG at his side. He takes a large wad of CASH from the plastic bag, leafs through the bills, and extracts a couple. He sets the wad down and places the bills in the bowl. Then, he goes through the DECK OF CARDS. His actions seem stunted and nervous compared to his smooth moves earlier. He extracts cards from the deck and lays them out in a circle around the bowl.
ANGLE ON – THE CARDS: all twelve Face Cards from the deck (Jacks, Queens and Kings), carefully arranged.
A BEAT; Marcus observes his work – it’s a delicate process. Then he sets the deck aside, gets a LIGHTER from his pocket. The little flame he sets up lights his face eerily. He sets the very tip of the flame to the edge of the bills. They BURN.
MARCUS
(anxiously)
There you go guys. You keep me winning, I keep bringing the dough, yeah?
CLOSE on the BURNING MONEY. It crinkles and smolders as WE ANGLE on THE CARDS. The faces of the monarchs now bear satisfied (perhaps evil) SMILES.
INT. POKER DEN – NIGHT
The usual crowd has gathered around the poker table. The game being played can hardly be seen through them. A collective “Ooh!” emits from the CROWD.
Marcus, with flourish, lays out his hand on the table: it’s a straight flush. The onlookers CLAP. Across the table, his single OPPONENT glares daggers, takes his remaining chips and exits.
MALE ONLOOKER
The Magician strikes again!
MARCUS
(laughs)
Anyone else want to try their luck? I’m all by myself here!
(beat)
Anyone?
HARRIET (O.S.)
I’ll join.
Marcus looks up, surprised.
CLOSE ON – RED BISHOP NECKLACE.
Harriet sits opposite Marcus the table, sets down a decent pile of CHIPS. She’s still dressed in alluring black. Their eyes meet. She grins.
HARRIET
Hello, Mr. Magic Touch.
Marcus hesitates, then smiles back. It’s more uneasy than his usual wan looks.
MARCUS
We meet again.
Harriet nods to the Dealer. The Dealer passes out the cards. The game begins.
HARRIET
I want how good you are for myself.
She adds a few chips to the pot.
ANGLE ON – MARCUS’ HAND: two 6s, a 7, a 3 and an Ace.
He keeps his poker face, raises her bet. He takes three of his cards and passes them to the Dealer. Harriet drops two of hers. The Dealer gives them new cards. Marcus checks his new hand: He’s replaced his 7, 3 and a 6 with a 2, a 5 and a Jack of Diamonds. Marcus smiles to himself. Much better.
EXTREME CLOSE-UP – the FACE of the Jack has a GRIN that wasn’t there before.
He smiles, flicks his thumb across the cards before he sets them down...
THE HAND STAYS THE SAME. Marcus’ can’t hide the look of surprise on his face. The CROWD seems surprised too.
Harriet looks from the displayed hand to Marcus, smiles, lays her cards out; FOUR OF A KIND in 9s. The onlookers clap politely. Marcus, dumbstruck, watches her take the pot.
MARCUS
(forced composure)
Lucky you.
Harriet grins and fingers her Bishop necklace.
A HYPNOTIC MONTAGE:
1) The Dealer shuffles the deck, deals the cards.
2) Marcus examines his hand, brows furrowed.
3) Harriet looks at her cards with a casual air.
4) Cards hit the table, with the pile of chips in the middle.
5) Marcus looks bedraggled. SWEAT glistens on his brow. He taps the cards with his thumb. Nothing happens.
6) The CROWD around the table, transfixed with the game.
7) The FACES of the monarch cards.
8) CLOSE on THE BISHOP; it looks unnaturally shiny.
9) Marcus’ collection of POKER CHIPS, getting smaller and smaller.
END OF MONTAGE
The atmosphere at the table is tense. Marcus has only a few chips left; Harriet has a sizeable pile. The Dealer gives them their hands. Marcus is clearly rattled as he checks his cards: two Queens, two Kings and a 3. His eyes light up – this might be good enough a hand. He places his bet. Harriet calmly sees his bet and raises it a couple chips.
WIDE SHOT – the whole table. Both players can be seen on either end. A HUSH falls. A BEAT.
Marcus with the fury of a drunken boxer and Harriet, calm and resolute – flourish their hands onto the table.
SMASH CUT:
EXT. STREET – NIGHT
The street outside the Poker Den is backlit by the neon signs for the place. Marcus, dazed and disheveled, sits on the curb, head in hands.
Behind him, Harriet exits the casino beaming, a LEATHER PURSE over one shoulder. She approaches Marcus. He doesn’t turn.
HARRIET
Win some, lose some, yeah?
She sets a DECK OF CARDS on the curb beside him.
MARCUS
(mumbles)
You knew about the-
He looks up, but she’s already gone. In frustration, he takes the deck and tosses it into the street. CARDS flutter everywhere. One card lands in the gutter in front of him, face-up.
ANGLE ON – the card, the QUEEN OF CLUBS. Her face is an angry scowl.
INT. HARRIET’S APARTMENT – LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
A small apartment room, sparsely appointed. It’s dark.
Harriet switches on the light. The room is revealed – couch, TV on a stand, and a COFFEE TABLE. A CHESSBOARD is set up on the table, the red-and-white pieces all in order. Harriet walks over to the table, sets her PURSE beside the chessboard, and kneels beside it. One of the RED BISHOP pieces is missing. Harriet unties the string around her neck, takes the Bishop off and puts it in the missing spot on the chessboard. ON ITS OWN, the Bishop moves across the board and knocks the WHITE KING over.
HARRIET
Checkmate.
Satisfied, she stands and opens her purse, revealing the MONEY she won. She smirks, sets it on the table beside the chessboard.
ANGLE ON – the chessboard. The pieces have rearranged themselves: they spell out the words WELL DONE.
THE END
Written By
David King
INT. POKER DEN – NIGHT
CLOSE on POKER HAND as it is triumphantly laid face-up on a table – a king-high straight.
Four men sit around a poker table, surrounded by a small throng of people, watching the game. They LAUGH and clap politely as the DEALER nods to the winner, MARCUS, late 20s, suave and debonair, a smooth operator in his sportcoat. He smiles as he pulls the pile of POKER CHIPS from the middle of the table to him – he’s already got a decent stack of chips on his side. The three other PLAYERS at the table glower, their chip-piles dwindling, and try to remain composed. Marcus just smirks – he loves the attention.
The Dealer passes out the cards. Marcus takes his cards, fans them before him.
MARCUS’ POV – THE CARDS, a two-pair: two 4s, two 10s, and a King of Spades.
Marcus’ brows furrow - it’s not a bad hand, but it could be much better.
DEALER
Place your bets, please.
Marcus pushes a small stack of chips into the middle of the table. The player on his right sighs, folds. The next player, PLAYER 2, does the same with a grimace. Marcus eyes PLAYER 1 across the table. Player 1 meets it evenly, smiles, adds an equal amount of his own chips to the pot. At a nod from the Dealer, Player 1 puts down his hand: a straight. Marcus glances at his own cards. Player 1 smiles – he’s got this one in the bag for a change.
Coolly, Marcus flicks a thumb against his cards before laying them out on the table. CLOSE on the hand...A ROYAL FLUSH. The cards have changed!
APPLAUSE from the onlookers. Player 1’s face falls. Marcus takes the pot with a wan smile. Frustrated, Player 1 nudges Player 2.
PLAYER 1
(quietly)
You sure this guy isn’t cheating?
PLAYER 2
(quietly)
Who knows. He’s a pro. They call him “The Magician” for a reason.
INT. ARCANA BAR – NIGHT
The BARTOP has been decorated with glossy TAROT CARDS of the major arcana.
Marcus and some of the ONLOOKERS from earlier are seated at the far end of the bar. The laugh uproariously at some private joke, and one of them claps Marcus on the back. He chuckles and takes a drink of his beer. As he sets it down again, he happens to glance down the bar, away from his entourage. Something catches his eye...
MARCUS’ POV: a WOMAN, late 20s, sitting at the far end of the bar, close to the front door. She’s pretty good-looking, dressed in black, silky clothing.
Marcus raises an eyebrow, smirks. From his shirt pocket he gets out a small HAND MIRROR, checks his reflection. He checks his breath. Satisfied, he makes an “I’ll be right back” gesture to his friends, gets up and moves down the bar to sit beside her. This is HARRIET. Up close, WE SEE she wears designer glasses and a fair amount of makeup. A RED BISHOP chess piece hangs from a chord around her neck. She’s staring at the bartop as if transfixed. A single, half-full glass of BOURBON rests near her.
MARCUS
(suave)
Mind if I--
She looks up at him, half-smiles. A nod. Marcus takes his seat.
MARCUS (CONT’D)
--drink?
She shakes her head, no. Marcus looks slightly put-off. Harriet seems oblivious to this.
HARRIET
You’re that hotshot at poker.
MARCUS
(cool)
I just have a knack for the game.
(beat)
Name's Marcus.
Harriet seems intrigued. Idly, she toys with her Bishop necklace.
HARRIET
They say you have a magic touch.
Marcus can’t help but grin: she seems like she’s coming on to him.
MARCUS
I’ve been called The Magician. I’m considering going professional.
HARRIET
(abruptly)
They say the Tower brings disaster.
Marcus blinks, confused. Harriet smirks, points to the bar in front of Marcus.
ANGLE ON - the bar. In front of Marcus is the TOWER. Harriet has the CHARIOT in front of her.
He looks up again. She’s still smiling. She spins the Bishop between her fingers. Something about her is unnerving.
HARRIET (CONT’D)
Not your fault. You picked a bad place to sit. That’s luck.
That said, Harriet drains what’s left of her drink in one gulp. Marcus, bewildered, watches as she gets up.
CLOSE on THE BISHOP, swaying back and forth as she stands.
She doesn’t offer a backward glance as she throws a black coat across her shoulders and saunters out of the bar. Marcus stares after her; what the hell was that about?
INT. MARCUS’ HOME – DEN - LATER
A comfortably-appointed den. The lights are low; the atmosphere is mysterious
Marcus kneels on the floor. There is a BRASS BOWL and a DECK OF CARDS on the floor in front of him, and a PLASTIC BAG at his side. He takes a large wad of CASH from the plastic bag, leafs through the bills, and extracts a couple. He sets the wad down and places the bills in the bowl. Then, he goes through the DECK OF CARDS. His actions seem stunted and nervous compared to his smooth moves earlier. He extracts cards from the deck and lays them out in a circle around the bowl.
ANGLE ON – THE CARDS: all twelve Face Cards from the deck (Jacks, Queens and Kings), carefully arranged.
A BEAT; Marcus observes his work – it’s a delicate process. Then he sets the deck aside, gets a LIGHTER from his pocket. The little flame he sets up lights his face eerily. He sets the very tip of the flame to the edge of the bills. They BURN.
MARCUS
(anxiously)
There you go guys. You keep me winning, I keep bringing the dough, yeah?
CLOSE on the BURNING MONEY. It crinkles and smolders as WE ANGLE on THE CARDS. The faces of the monarchs now bear satisfied (perhaps evil) SMILES.
INT. POKER DEN – NIGHT
The usual crowd has gathered around the poker table. The game being played can hardly be seen through them. A collective “Ooh!” emits from the CROWD.
Marcus, with flourish, lays out his hand on the table: it’s a straight flush. The onlookers CLAP. Across the table, his single OPPONENT glares daggers, takes his remaining chips and exits.
MALE ONLOOKER
The Magician strikes again!
MARCUS
(laughs)
Anyone else want to try their luck? I’m all by myself here!
(beat)
Anyone?
HARRIET (O.S.)
I’ll join.
Marcus looks up, surprised.
CLOSE ON – RED BISHOP NECKLACE.
Harriet sits opposite Marcus the table, sets down a decent pile of CHIPS. She’s still dressed in alluring black. Their eyes meet. She grins.
HARRIET
Hello, Mr. Magic Touch.
Marcus hesitates, then smiles back. It’s more uneasy than his usual wan looks.
MARCUS
We meet again.
Harriet nods to the Dealer. The Dealer passes out the cards. The game begins.
HARRIET
I want how good you are for myself.
She adds a few chips to the pot.
ANGLE ON – MARCUS’ HAND: two 6s, a 7, a 3 and an Ace.
He keeps his poker face, raises her bet. He takes three of his cards and passes them to the Dealer. Harriet drops two of hers. The Dealer gives them new cards. Marcus checks his new hand: He’s replaced his 7, 3 and a 6 with a 2, a 5 and a Jack of Diamonds. Marcus smiles to himself. Much better.
EXTREME CLOSE-UP – the FACE of the Jack has a GRIN that wasn’t there before.
He smiles, flicks his thumb across the cards before he sets them down...
THE HAND STAYS THE SAME. Marcus’ can’t hide the look of surprise on his face. The CROWD seems surprised too.
Harriet looks from the displayed hand to Marcus, smiles, lays her cards out; FOUR OF A KIND in 9s. The onlookers clap politely. Marcus, dumbstruck, watches her take the pot.
MARCUS
(forced composure)
Lucky you.
Harriet grins and fingers her Bishop necklace.
A HYPNOTIC MONTAGE:
1) The Dealer shuffles the deck, deals the cards.
2) Marcus examines his hand, brows furrowed.
3) Harriet looks at her cards with a casual air.
4) Cards hit the table, with the pile of chips in the middle.
5) Marcus looks bedraggled. SWEAT glistens on his brow. He taps the cards with his thumb. Nothing happens.
6) The CROWD around the table, transfixed with the game.
7) The FACES of the monarch cards.
8) CLOSE on THE BISHOP; it looks unnaturally shiny.
9) Marcus’ collection of POKER CHIPS, getting smaller and smaller.
END OF MONTAGE
The atmosphere at the table is tense. Marcus has only a few chips left; Harriet has a sizeable pile. The Dealer gives them their hands. Marcus is clearly rattled as he checks his cards: two Queens, two Kings and a 3. His eyes light up – this might be good enough a hand. He places his bet. Harriet calmly sees his bet and raises it a couple chips.
WIDE SHOT – the whole table. Both players can be seen on either end. A HUSH falls. A BEAT.
Marcus with the fury of a drunken boxer and Harriet, calm and resolute – flourish their hands onto the table.
SMASH CUT:
EXT. STREET – NIGHT
The street outside the Poker Den is backlit by the neon signs for the place. Marcus, dazed and disheveled, sits on the curb, head in hands.
Behind him, Harriet exits the casino beaming, a LEATHER PURSE over one shoulder. She approaches Marcus. He doesn’t turn.
HARRIET
Win some, lose some, yeah?
She sets a DECK OF CARDS on the curb beside him.
MARCUS
(mumbles)
You knew about the-
He looks up, but she’s already gone. In frustration, he takes the deck and tosses it into the street. CARDS flutter everywhere. One card lands in the gutter in front of him, face-up.
ANGLE ON – the card, the QUEEN OF CLUBS. Her face is an angry scowl.
INT. HARRIET’S APARTMENT – LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
A small apartment room, sparsely appointed. It’s dark.
Harriet switches on the light. The room is revealed – couch, TV on a stand, and a COFFEE TABLE. A CHESSBOARD is set up on the table, the red-and-white pieces all in order. Harriet walks over to the table, sets her PURSE beside the chessboard, and kneels beside it. One of the RED BISHOP pieces is missing. Harriet unties the string around her neck, takes the Bishop off and puts it in the missing spot on the chessboard. ON ITS OWN, the Bishop moves across the board and knocks the WHITE KING over.
HARRIET
Checkmate.
Satisfied, she stands and opens her purse, revealing the MONEY she won. She smirks, sets it on the table beside the chessboard.
ANGLE ON – the chessboard. The pieces have rearranged themselves: they spell out the words WELL DONE.
THE END