Free The Grand Budapest Hotel by Wes Anderson

across the ceiling. The others follow.
    INT. CELLAR. NIGHT
    A dirty chute sticks down from the ceiling above a wide garbage bin filled with empty tins and rotting vegetables. M. Gustave, Pinky, Günther, Wolf, and Ludwig slide down into view, one-by-one, drop out into the trash pile, and hurry on their tiptoes into a dim corridor.
    Cut to:
    The candlelit dungeon. M. Gustave, Pinky, Günther, Wolf, and Ludwig all listen attentively, looking up at the ceiling. There is a loud but muffled sneeze above, then feet creaking away. Ludwig nods.
    Pinky pulls away an oilskin tarp to reveal the cement pothole which has now been chiselled all the way through the thick sub-floor clear into the room below – where they see:
    Three startled guards staring up at them from a card table in a dank, brick basement. They each hold a hand of cards. One is in the middle of placing a bet into a rich pot. A gas lantern flickers on a hook. The escapees all cry out at once:
    LUDWIG
    Whoa!
    PINKY
    Yow!
    WOLF
    Jeez!
    M. GUSTAVE
    Look out!
    Günther whips the toothbrush-knife out of his sock and jumps down into the hole. The table shatters and cards and coins fly in every direction. There is a frenzy of punching, scrapping, and grunting. The others converge excitedly around the hole like the audience at a cock-fight. Günther kicks one guard in the teeth, slashes another across the neck, and socks the third, blasting the lantern into bits in the process.
    The room goes black.
    M. Gustave, Pinky, and Wolf cheer at a low decibel, whispering advice and encouragement simultaneously down into the darkness while Ludwig quickly searches for a match. He lights it and holds it over the hole.
    Two of the guards are now sprawled out on their backs in a spreading pool of blood. Günther and the remaining guard twist and clutch on the floor, grappling in violent headlocks while they simultaneously stab each other repeatedly with the throat-slitter and a thick hunting knife. They both fall silent and stop moving. Silence. M. Gustave says quietly:
    M. GUSTAVE
    I suppose you’d call that a draw.
    Ludwig sighs. He delivers a brief eulogy:
    LUDWIG
    Anyway, he went out with a bloody knife in his fist jammed into the gut of a dyin’ prison guard. I think that’s how he would’ve wanted it, don’t you?
    M. Gustave, Pinky, and Wolf nod and solemnly concur, muttering. They climb down into the hole.
    EXT. STREET. NIGHT
    Zero watches as the manhole cover flips open onto the street. M. Gustave pokes his head up and whispers simply:
    M. GUSTAVE
    Good evening.
    Zero rushes to assist M. Gustave out of the storm drain. Pinky, Wolf, and Ludwig surface on high alert, looking around in every direction
. (
Pinky carries a wad of the crumbled-up gambling money in his little hand.
)
    M. GUSTAVE
    Let me introduce you. Pinky, Wolf, and Ludwig: this is the divine Zero. (
Soberly to Zero.
) Günther was slain in the catacombs.
    M. Gustave crosses himself quickly. He begins a wistful speech:
    Well, boys, who knows when we’ll all meet again; but
if
, one day –
    LUDWIG
    No time to gab. Take care of yourself, Mr. Gustave. Good luck, kid.
    Pinky, Wolf, and Ludwig sprint away into the woods. M. Gustave watches them go, bittersweet. He grabs Zero by the shoulder and says, suddenly urgent:
    M. GUSTAVE
    Which way to the safe house?
    ZERO
    (
unfortunately
)
    I couldn’t find one.
    M. GUSTAVE
    (
in disbelief
)
    No
safe
house? Really? We’re completely on our own out here?
    ZERO
    (
worried
)
    I’m afraid so. I asked around, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I thought …
    Zero trails off. He looks apologetic. M. Gustave sighs, resigned. He says calmly:
    M. GUSTAVE
    I understand. Too risky. We’ll just have to wing it, I suppose. Let’s put on our disguises.
    Zero hesitates. He looks down at his vagabond costume, then at M. Gustave’s. He says, confused:
    ZERO
    We’re
wearing
them.
    M. GUSTAVE
    (
frustrated
)
    No, we’re not. We said false
whiskers
and fake
noses
and so on. You