HANK and EMMA, a young couple, sit on a blanket by a tree in an isolated section of a public park. Hank is rounding second with his eyes on home.
Emma: I think maybe we should take it easy.
Emma: You're going to make it very difficult for me to say no to you pretty soon, I don't think this is the place for...(He begins to slip a hand up her skirt) Oh, god...
Hank: Who cares if somebody sees us?
He unbuttons his pants, begins to lift her shirt over her head.
Emma: I just think we should be caref...oh shit, what was that?
She springs up.
Emma: There's somebody over there.
Emma: Behind that tree.
Hank: Hey! Come on out, asshole, the show's over!
Hank: Hey, fucker!
Emma: Hank, I think he's wearing a mask. Is that...oh, god...
A tall figure clothed entirely in black - head to toe, including mask and gloves - approaches them, a pistol at the end of his outstretched hand. On his chest, a cross in rifle sights in bold red.
Killer: Quiet, sinner!
Hank: Oh Jesus, you're...
Emma: It's the Corinthian Killer!
She goes to grab her shirt.
Killer: Leave it there, filth. Let yourself arrive upon our god in a manner as disgusting and shameful as you left his precious earth.
Hank: Please, you don't have to do this.
Emma: Oh my god, oh my god...I don't want to die...
Hank (to Emma): Shh, it's going to be okay, honey. (to the Killer) At least let her go.
Killer: So that she can continue her fornicating ways in the sweaty folds of another?
Hank: Hey, watch it!
Emma: Hank, what are you doing?
Hank: How dare you imply she's a whore!
Emma: Wait a minute...
Killer: You can't protect her anymore. Her sin is apparent in the eyes of our righteous creator.
Emma: Why would that make me a whore?
Hank: This isn't the time...
Emma: You know we're not official or anything, right?
Killer: Prepare to look upon the judging face of a vengeful, punishing g-oh my god, it's you.
Another man dressed entirely in black, also holding a gun, has stepped out of the bushes. On his chest, also in red, is a crown of thorns that has been modified into a rifle sight.
Killer 2: What's going on here?
Killer 1: You're the Corinthian killer! Oh my god, I'm such a big fan of your work.
Hank: Hold on, I thought you were the--
Killer 1: Seriously, I cannot tell you what an influence you've been on me, both personally and professionally.
Killer 2: Wait a minute, I know you. You're that asshole that's been going around copycatting me!
Killer 1: Oh my goodness - you know my work?
Killer 2: Of course I do - you've been running around dressed like me for the last month and a half. Kind of hard not to notice.
Killer 1: I'm so flattered. I mean, I've been a fan of yours since the beginning. I've studied all of your murders. I've always had this desire, this need to kill, you know? I just didn't really know how to fulfill it. I knew I had something valuable to say about our relationship with the divine creator through the destruction of human life, I just never had a voice with which to express it. But then you came along, and it was like someone had reached into my brain, scooped out these violent urges, and enacted them a thousand times more effectively than I ever could. At first I hated you, but then I realized the truth - that you had been put here to guide me. To give me someone whose footsteps I could follow until I finally started to find my own way.
Killer 2: You killed that old married couple in the Appalachians last August, didn't you?
Killer 1: That was me.
Killer 2: Son of a bitch - you know they blamed that on me?
Killer 1: That was the greatest moment of my life. I can only hope you felt some of the same pride, knowing that your good work was carrying on.
Killer 2: Pride? I've never felt so ashamed in my whole life!
Killer 1: Ashamed? I don't understand...is it because I fulfilled your mission so much more successfully than you ever had?
Killer 2: Fulfilled my mission? See, that's my point - you killed an old married couple, don't you understand?
Killer 1: I sprang upon them as they committed the sin of physical love, just like you would have done.
Killer 2: Married, Marr-ied. M-A-R-R-I-E-D! It's not a sin if they're fucking married. I mean, look at your symbol.
Killer 1: What about it?
Killer 2: A cross in the cross hairs?
Killer 1: Cross hairs. I thought it was clever.
Killer 2: But it represents the opposite of what I'm going for! You would get that if you actually understood my work.
Hank: Maybe we should go...
They start to sneak away.
Killer 2: Down, sinners!
Killer 1: Hey, these are my victims - I found them first. (to Hank and Emma) Down, sinners!
Killer 2: Well, at least that means you're learning.
Hank: Look, I'm sorry, but if we're going to be killed, do you think he can do it?
He points to Killer 2.
Killer 1: Him? Why?
Emma: We'd rather be killed by the real guy.
Killer 1: Right...the real guy...
Killer 2: Look, there's no point in embarrassing yourself further. Just leave now, and let's forget this ever hap--
Killer 1 raises his gun and shoots Killer 2 three times in the chest. Emma screams.
Hank: Jesus Christ!
Killer 1 takes a step towards the body, looks down sadly at it, and then shoots him one more time. He takes a moment, then looks over at Hank.
Killer 1: I had to do that, right?
Killer 1: He needed to go so that I could fully come into my own, yes?
Hank: Uh, sure...
Emma: Yes, yes of course he did...
Killer 1: You're not just saying that because you're afraid of me?
Killer 1: Because you're not afraid of me...
Hank: No, that's not what I meant.
Emma: Of course we are.
Killer 1: Do you mean it?
But he knows that they don't.
Police sirens in the distance.