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TERMINATOR 2 SCRIPT-

1 ext. city street - day 1

Downtown L.A. Noon on a hot summer day. On an EXTREME LONG LENS the
lunchtime crowd stacks up into a wall of humanity. In SLOW MOTION they
move in herds among the glittering rows of cars jammed bumper to bumper.
Heat ripples distort the torrent of faces. The image is surreal,
dreamy... and like a dream it begins very slowly to

dissolve to:

2 ext. city ruins - night 2

Same spot as the last shot, but now it is a landscape in Hell. The cars
are stopped in rusted rows, still bumper to bumper. The skyline of
buildings beyond has been shattered by some unimaginable force like a
row of kicked-down sandcastles. Wind blows through the desolation,
keening with the sound of ten million dead souls. It scurries the ashes
into drifts, stark white in the moonlight against the charred rubble. A
TITLE CARD FADES IN:

LOS ANGELES, July 11, 2029

3 ANGLE ON a heap of fire-blackened human bones. Beyond the mound is
a 3 vast tundra of skulls and shattered concrete. The rush hour
crowds burned down in their tracks.

4 WE DISSOLVE TO a playground... where intense heat has half-melted
the 4 jungle gym, the blast has warped the swing set, the
merry-go-round has sagged in the firestorm. Small skulls look
accusingly from the ash-drifts. WE HEAR the distant echo of
children's voices... playing and laughing in the sun. A silly,
sing-songy rhyme as WE TRACK SLOWLY over seared asphalt where the
faint hieroglyphs of hopscotch lines are still visible.

CAMERA comes to rest on a burnt and rusted tricycle... next to the
tiny skull of its owner. HOLD ON THIS IMAGE as a female VOICE
speaks: *

VOICE * 3 billion human lives ended on August 29th, * 1997. The
survivors of the nuclear fire called * the war Judgment Day. They
lived only to * face a new nightmare, the war against the *
Machines... *

A metal foot crushes the skull like china.

TILT UP, revealing a humanoid machine holding a massive battle rifle.
It looks like a CHROME SKELETON... a high-tech Death figure. It is the
endoskeleton of a Series 800 Terminator. It's glowing red eyes
compassionlessly sweep the dead terrain, hunting.

TERMINATOR 2 - Rev. 9/10/90 2

4 The SOUND of ROARING TURBINES. Searchlights blaze down as a 4
formation of flying HK (Hunter-Killer) patrol machines passes
overhead. PAN WITH THEM toward the jagged horizon, beyond which
we see flashes, and hear the distant thunder of a pitched battle in
progress.

5 ext. battlefield - night 5

THE BATTLE. Human troops in desperate combat with the machines for
possession of the dead Earth. The humans are a ragtag guerrilla army.
Skynet's weapons consist of the Ground HKs (tank-like robot
gun-platforms), flying Aerial HKs, four-legged gun-pods called
Centurions, and the humanoid Terminators in various forms.

SEQUENCE OF RAPID CUTS: 5A Explosions! Beam-weapons firing like
searing strobe-lights. 5A* 5B A gunner in an armored personnel
carrier fires a LAW rocket at a pursuing 5B Aerial HK, bringing it
down in a fiery explosion. 5C Another APC is crushed under the treads
of a massive Ground HK. 5C

5D A TEAM OF GUERRILLAS in an intense fire-fight with terminator 5D
5E endoskeletons in the ruins of a building. Three terminator
endoskeletons 5E* 5F advance, firing rapidly. Another (complete
cyborg), with flesh ripped open 5F and back broken, gropes for a
rifle on the ground.


5G A Centurion overruns a human firing position. Soldiers are cut down
as they 5G run. Fiery explosions light the ranks of advancing
machines.

6 IN A BLASTED GUN EMPLACEMENT at the edge of battle, a man watches
6 the combat with night vision binoculars. He wears the uniform of
a guerrilla general, and a black beret. He is still amid running,
shouting techs and officers.

C.U. MAN, pushing slowly in as the battle rages O.S. He lowers the
binoculars. He is forty-five years old. Features severe. The left
side of his face is heavily scarred. A patch covers that eye. An
impressive man, forged in the furnace of a lifetime of war. The name
stitched on the band of his beret is CONNER. We push in until his eyes
fill frame, then...

DISSOLVE TO

FIRE. SLOW ROILING, ENORMOUS. FILLING FRAME. *

VOICE (SARA CONNER) * Skynet, the computer which controlled the *
Machines, sent two terminators back through * time. Their
mission: to destroy the leader of the * human Resistance... John
Conner. My son. *

The first terminator was programmed to strike * at me, in the year
1984... before John was born. * It failed. *


TERMINATOR 2 - Rev. 9/10/90 3

6 VOICE (SARA CONNER) 6* The second was set to strike at John himself,
* when he was still a child. As before, the * Resistance was able
to send a lone warrior. A * protector for John. It was just a
question of * which one of them would reach him first... *

DISSOLVE TO: 7 ext. truckstop - night 7

Wild fingers of BLUE-WHITE ELECTRIC ARCS dance in a steel canyon formed
by two TRACTOR TRAILERS, parked side by side in the back lot of an all
night truck stop. Then...

The strange lightning forms a circular opening in mid-air, and in the
sudden flare of light we see a FIGURE in a SPHERE OF ENERGY. Then the
FRAME WHITES OUT with an explosive THUNDERCLAP!

Through the clearing vapor we see the figure clearly... a naked man.
TERMINATOR has come through. Physique: massive, perfect. Face:
devoid of * emotion. Terminator stands and impassively surveys its
surroundings.

8 INT. TRUCK STOP DINER - NIGHT 8

On a back route north of L.A. A handful of local TRUCKERS hunch over
chili-sizes, CAT hats pushed back on the heads. Three BIKERS are
playing a game of pool in the back, their Miller empties line the
table's rail. The dive's owner, LLOYD, a fat, aging biker-type in a
soiled apron, stands behind the bar. Nothing much going on...

Then the front door opens and a big naked guy strolls in-- that doesn't
happen here every night. All eyes simultaneously swivel toward
Terminator. It's emotionless gaze passes over the customers as it walks
calmly through the room. Everyone freezes, not sure how to react.

8A TERMINATOR POV. A digitized electronic scan of the room, overlaid
with 8A alphanumeric readouts which change faster than the human
eye can follow. In POV we move past the staring truckers, past the
owner, and the awestruck WAITRESS, and approach a large
nasty-looking biker puffing on a cigar. His body is outlined, or
"selected", and thousands of estimated measurements appear. His
clothing has been analyzed and deemed suitable...

8B terminator 8B I need your clothes, your boots, and your motorcycle.

The big biker's eyes narrow. He takes a long draw on his cigar,
getting the tip * cherry-red hot. cigar biker You forgot to say
please.

He grinds the cigar out on Terminator's chest. Which produces not the
slightest reaction of pain. Terminator calmly, and without expression,
grabs Cigar by his meaty upper arm... Cigar screams from the hydraulic
grip.


8B Terminator doesn't see Cigar's friend, behind him, holding his pool
cue by the 8B narrow end like a Louisville slugger. The heavy end
whistles in a powerful swing and CRACKS IN TWO across the back of
Terminator's head.

Terminator seems not to notice. Doesn't even blink. Without releasing
his grip on Cigar, he snaps his arm straight back and grabs Pool Cue by
the front of his jacket. Suddenly the heavyset biker finds himself
flying through the nearest window. CRAASSH!

Terminator hurls Cigar, all 230 pounds of him, clear over the bar,
through the serving window into the kitchen, where he lands on the big
flat GRILL. We hear a SOUND like SIZZLING BACON as Cigar screams,
flopping and jerking. He rolls off in a smoking heap.

The third biker whips out a knife with an eight inch blade and slashes
at Terminator's face.

Terminator grabs the arcing blade with his bare hand. Holding it by the
razor-sharp blade he jerks it from the guy's hand. Ultra-fast here: He
flips it. Grabs the handle like you're supposed to hold a knife. Grabs
the biker and slams him face-down over the bar. Then brings the knife
whistling down, pinning the biker's shoulder to the bar top with his own
steel.

9 INT. KITCHEN 9

The door BANGS OPEN and Terminator strides in. The Mexican cook does a
fast fade as Terminator walks toward Cigar, who is cursing in pain on
the floor.

With his deep-fried fingers he struggles to get out the .45 auto tucked
under his leather jacket. But he can't even hold onto it. Terminator
takes it from him. Instead of pointing it at him, Terminator carefully
examines the weapon, analyzing its caliber and operating condition.
Terminator never threatens... that's a human thing. He just takes.

Cigar senses what he must do when the emotionless eyes come back to him.
He slides the keys to his bike across the floor to Terminator's foot.
Then painfully starts getting out of his jacket.

10 INT. truck stop 10

Terminator strides from the kitchen, fully clothed now in a black
leather jacket, leather riding pants, and heavy cleated boots. He moves
toward the moaning biker pinned to the pool table. Without slowing his
stride he jerks the knife out. The guy slumps to the floor, groaning,
behind him.

Terminator continues toward the front of the diner, passing Lloyd, the
owner. At the door, he comes abreast of two truckers who sit frozen
like a snapshot in mid bite. One of the truckers finally nods.

10 TRUCKER 10 Evening...

Terminator impassively stares back. Then moves on out the door.

11 EXT. TRUCK STOP 11

Terminator walks out, surveying the parked Harleys. Sticks the .45 in
his belt and swings one leg over a massive CUSTOM ELECTRO-GLIDE. He
slips the dagger in his boot and the key in the ignition. Kicks over
the engine. It catches with a roar and he slams the heavy iron into
gear with a KLUNK.

Lloyd appears at the diner's door with a sawed-off 10 GAUGE WINCHESTER
LEVER-ACTION SHOTGUN. He fires into the air and jacks another round in
fast, aiming at Terminator's back.

LLOYD I can't let you take the man's bike, son. Now get off or I'll put
you down!

Terminator turns and considers him coldly. He eases the shifter up into
neutral. Rocks the bike onto its kickstand. Swings his leg over and
walks calmly toward the guy.

Terminator strides right up to Lloyd, staring straight into the
shotgun's muzzle. Lloyd starts sweating, trying to decide if he's going
to kill a man in cold blood. He's still trying to decide when
Terminator's hand blurs out like a striking cobra and is somehow
suddenly holding the shotgun.

Lloyd gapes, knowing he is screwed. Then... Terminator reaches toward
him. Oh shit... And slips the sunglasses out of Lloyd's shirt pocket.
Puts them on. Strides back to the Harley and roars off in a shower of
gravel.

12 EXT. freeway - NIGHT 12

Terminator roars down the freeway, heading into L.A. Cold neon flares
across the chrome of the big bike. The 10 gauge is jammed through the
clutch and brake cables, across the handlebars. The lights flow over
Terminator's wrap-around sunglasses like the tracks of tracer rounds.

cut to:

13 EXT. STREET/ high school - NIGHT 13

A South-Central L.A. HIGH SCHOOL. Rusting chain link fences and
graffiti-covered buildings. An L.A.P.D. BLACK-AND-WHITE cruises the
empty street.

A TREMENDOUS BLUE-WHITE GLARE suddenly spills out between the buildings.
The young UNIFORMED COP in the car whips his head around at the source
of the light. He pulls quickly into the school parking lot, in time to
see...

TERMINATOR 2 - Rev. 9/10/90 6

13A The powerfully arcing electrical discharge reaches its peak between
two of the 13A buildings. Lightning climbs the fire-escapes,
lighting up the night, and papers swirl in a blasting whirlwind.

13B The cop climbs from his cruiser as the glow fades. The schoolyard
is dark. 13B He sees vapor dissipating as he approaches the spot
where he saw the strange light. He draws his revolver and
cautiously moves into the shadows between two buildings.

A NAKED MAN glides from a shadowed doorway behind the cop. Nothing
special about him. Certainly not built like a terminator. The flash of
light and the fact that he is naked are pretty good clues that he just
arrived from the future. His features are handsome bordering on severe.
His eyes are gray ice. Penetrating. Intelligent.

THE COP spins at a sound. Too late. Mr. X is already on him. The blow
is lightning fast and the cop drops like a bag of sand.

LOW ANGLE as the unconscious cop hits the deck, his BERETTA 9mm
AUTOMATIC clattering next to him. A hand ENTERS FRAME and picks up the
pistol. cut to:

13C HIGHLY POLISHED BLACK SHOES rounding the rear tire of the police
13C cruiser. FOLLOW THE SHOES to the cruiser's door then MOVE UP as
Mr. X, dressed now in LAPD blue, climbs behind the wheel. He looks
and acts exactly like a cop. Cool, alert, confident in his power,
his expression emotionless and judgmental. Mr. X, now Officer X,
puts the car in gear and drives into the night.

cut to:

14 int. suburban house / garage - day 14

TIGHT ON YOUNG JOHN CONNER, who at this moment is ten years old and busy
reassembling the carburetor on his Honda 125 dirtbike. He has ripped
Levi's and long stringy hair. A sullen mouth. Eyes which reveal an
intelligence as sharp as a scalpel. The Ramones' "I Wanna Be Sedated"
blasts from a boom box next to him.

A WOMAN, JANELLE VOIGHT, stands in the doorway of the garage, yelling
over the music.

woman ...John? John! Get in here right now and clean up that pigsty
of yours.

John's friend TIM, a thirteen-year old Hispanic kid, watches as John
replies * by turning up the volume on the boom box. Janelle
gives up with a SLAM of the house's back door.

tim Your foster parents are kinda dicks, huh?

14 john 14 Gimme that Phillips right there.

15 INT. HOUSE - living room 15

Janelle storms into the room. TODD VOIGHT, her husband watches sports
on the TV. They're both in their thirties. Middle class working
stiffs.

janelle I swear I've had it with that goddamn kid. He won't even answer
me. (neither does he) Todd? Are you gonna sit there or are you gonna
do something?

He sighs. Throws down the TV's remote and heads for the garage.

16 INT. GARAGE 16

John hops on the bike. Kick starts it. Tim picks up John's nylon bag
then climbs on the back. Todd ENTERS and shouts over the engine, which
John revs louder and louder.

todd John! Get your ass inside right now and do what your mother says!

John pins Todd with a defiant glare.

john She's not my mother, Todd!

He revs the engine and peels out of the garage, with Tim almost falling
off the back. They take off down the street.

17 EXT. vacant lot/ drainage canal 17

John cuts through a vacant lot to a trail running beside a fenced-in
drainage canal. He guns the bike through a hole in the retaining
fence. Tim's eyes go wide as they roar down the concrete embankment.

17A IN THE DRAINAGE CANAL John zig-zags along, throwing up a roostertail
17A of muddy water. Tim shouts, pretending he didn't just see his
life flash before his eyes. He slaps John on the back.

tim Major moves, homes! So... where is your real mom, anyway? (John
doesn't answer) She dead or something?

It's hard to read John's expression.

17A john 17A She might as well be.

John twists the throttle angrily and the bike lunges forward.

cut to:

18 ext. pesCADERO state hospital - day 18

A SIGN on a chain link fence topped with concertina wire reads:
PESCADERO STATE HOSPITAL FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE. Beyond it squats
an imposing four story building. Institutional brick. Barred windows.
About as inviting as KGB headquarters. Security cars patrol the
manicured grounds.

19 int. hospital - MAXIMUM SECURITY WING 19

Sunlight is a barred slash on the bare institutional wall. The room is
empty of all furnishings save the bed, a stainless steel sink, toilet,
and a dented metal mirror. WE HEAR a rhythmic grunting, small
explosions of breath in perfectly metered time.

PAN TO a bedframe leaned upright against the wall, legs facing outward.
A pair of sweaty hands grip one leg. Tendons knot and release as
SOMEONE does pullups. A mane of tangled hair hides the face that comes
INTO FRAME, dips out, comes back.

WIDER. A WOMAN in a tank top and hospital pants is hanging from the top
leg of the vertical bedframe. Her body is straight and taut. Knees
bent so the feet clear the ground. The arms are lean and muscular.
The inmate, face hidden, pulls up, dips, pulls up. Like a machine. No
change in rhythm.

20 int. hospital / corridor 20

FIGURES MOVE TOWARD US down a corridor of polished tile and two-tone
walls. DR. PETER SILBERMAN, a smug criminal psychologist, leads a group
of young INTERNS. Following, laconically, are THREE BURLY ATTENDANTS.

silberman The next patient is a 29 year old female diagnosed as acute
schizo-affective disorder. The usual indicators... depression, anxiety,
violent acting-out, delusions of persecution. (the interns nod
judiciously) Here we are.

Silberman stops at one of the SOUNDPROOF STEEL DOORS. There is a
two-way speaker beneath a tiny window. Silberman flips the intercom
switch.

21 int. cell 21

Silberman's scrubbed and cheerful face at cell window. HIS VOICE comes
over the tinny speaker.

21 silberman 21 'Morning, Sara.

REVERSE ANGLE as she turns slowly into CLOSE UP. SARA CONNER is not the
same woman we remember from last time. Her eyes peer out through a wild
tangle of hair like those of a cornered animal. Defiant and intense,
but skittering around looking for escape at the same time. Fight or
flight. Down one cheek is a long scar, from just below the eye to her
upper lip. Her VOICE is a low and chilling monotone.

SARA Good morning, Dr. Silberman. How's the knee?

22 int. corridor 22

Silberman's smug composure drops a second. Then returns.

silberman Fine, Sara. (he switches off, speaks to the interns) She uh...
stabbed me in the kneecap with a screwdriver a few weeks ago.

Sara watches them talking about her through the glass, but can't hear
them. She feels like a lab animal. The interns look in at her through
the glass as Silberman talks. With her face drawn, eyes haggard and
hair wild, she looks like she belongs where she is.

silberman The delusional architecture is interesting. She believes a
machine called a "terminator", which looks human of course, was sent
back through time to kill her. And also that the father of her child
was a soldier, sent to protect her... he was from the future too... (he
 
 

 
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