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Antiwork

I asked ChatGPT to create a script for a movie titled “Eat The Rich”. I thought it belonged here.

INT. POLICE STATION – DAY A dimly lit room. DESMOND HART, a seasoned detective in his mid-40s with a rugged exterior and weary eyes, sits alone at his desk. Papers and case files are scattered haphazardly in front of him, reflecting his frustration. The sound of ringing telephones and distant chatter fills the air. Desmond takes a sip from his cold coffee, deep in thought. His face reveals the torment of a man torn between justice and the unthinkable. A framed photograph of his wife and young daughter sits on the edge of his cluttered desk, a constant reminder of the stakes. CAPTAIN JENKINS, a grizzled veteran with a no-nonsense attitude, approaches Desmond's desk. CAPTAIN JENKINS (desperately) Hart, we got another one. A billionaire. The same M.O. Desmond looks up, his weary eyes meeting Jenkins' gaze. DESMOND HART (sighs) How many does that make now? CAPTAIN JENKINS (seething) Five. Five…


INT. POLICE STATION - DAY

A dimly lit room. DESMOND HART, a seasoned detective in his mid-40s with a rugged exterior and weary eyes, sits alone at his desk. Papers and case files are scattered haphazardly in front of him, reflecting his frustration. The sound of ringing telephones and distant chatter fills the air.

Desmond takes a sip from his cold coffee, deep in thought. His face reveals the torment of a man torn between justice and the unthinkable. A framed photograph of his wife and young daughter sits on the edge of his cluttered desk, a constant reminder of the stakes.

CAPTAIN JENKINS, a grizzled veteran with a no-nonsense attitude, approaches Desmond's desk.

CAPTAIN JENKINS
(desperately)
Hart, we got another one. A billionaire. The same M.O.

Desmond looks up, his weary eyes meeting Jenkins' gaze.

DESMOND HART
(sighs)
How many does that make now?

CAPTAIN JENKINS
(seething)
Five. Five billionaires, all brutally murdered. This sicko... he's leaving a trail of carnage. But there's something else, something twisted.

Desmond's eyebrows furrow, intrigued and disturbed by Jenkins' words.

DESMOND HART
(confused)
What do you mean, something twisted?

Captain Jenkins leans in closer, lowering his voice.

CAPTAIN JENKINS
(a whisper)
He's a cannibal, Desmond. He's not just killing them, he's taking trophies from his victims. Human trophies.

Desmond's eyes widen in shock, a mix of horror and fascination.

DESMOND HART
(horrified)
Dear God...

Captain Jenkins paces around, clearly disturbed by the situation.

CAPTAIN JENKINS
(passionate)
We need to catch this monster, Hart. And fast. The whole city is in fear. The mayor's putting pressure on us, and the media is having a field day. But I'll be damned if we let this guy turn us into vigilantes.

Desmond looks down at the case files on his desk, contemplating the choices before him. The weight of the world rests on his shoulders.

DESMOND HART
(whispered)
What if... what if we don't catch him? What if... what if we let him continue?

Captain Jenkins stops pacing and fixes his gaze on Desmond, his eyes filled with both anger and understanding.

CAPTAIN JENKINS
(defiant)
No, Hart. We can't sink to his level. We can't become accomplices, even if we think it's for the greater good. We're the law, damn it. We bring justice.

Desmond stares at Captain Jenkins, wrestling with his conscience. The room falls into an uneasy silence.

The stage is set for a moral dilemma that will test Desmond's resolve, pushing him to the brink of his own sanity. The hunt for the cannibal killer intensifies, as does the struggle within Desmond's own soul.

FADE OUT.

To be continued...

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