Yeah you read that correctly, I’ve not really landed my hands on the pretend totally real leaked script for Taken 3. After the truly dismal second installment the producers have decided to stop pretending it’s about anything other than big Liam Neeson knocking the shit out of bad guys. In Taken 3 Liam just plays himself and we pick up where he returns to his hometown of Ballymena with a mysterious person on his tail. The story is written by Screenkicker contributor and podcast veteran Denis Mallon with artwork from Lisa Mallon. I smell a shit movie!
“A car, I need a car”
Big Liam stood on the Town Hall steps, looking across the crowded boulevard for a suitable motor. Something that would be able to keep up with the sporty saloon car that was rapidly making off up the high street. Instantly he spied a black Audi at the traffic lights and dashed towards it.
The idiotic Audi driver protested as he was yanked from the vehicle. “Come on you fool, get out of the bloody car!”, fumed Big Liam, throwing him to the curb and slamming the door shut. The lights turned green and he shoved his foot to the floor, taking off up the road.
Speeding past the DUP Advice Centre, he reached into his pocket for the cell phone that had been left behind on the pavement, and dialled the last number in the call log. The dial tone repeated once, twice, three times, before a fuzzy voice answered “hello” in a thick eastern European accent.
“Listen up, you shower of assbaskets, I’m flying towards you in a 3 litre German sedan, this is my home town, I know these streets. I’ll catch you up within five minutes and have you on your knees in ten. Why don’t you just give it up now?”
“Too late, Mr Neeson, we have what we want and we’re taking it somewhere very far away. Goodbye.”
“Suit yourself, dickbag”, he growled, putting the pedal to the floor.
As Wyse Byse bargain store sped past, the yellow Toyota came into view up ahead. Big Liam reached for his cold, solid, Glock pistol, rolled down the window, and expertly fired 5 rounds at distant vehicle, causing it to move erratically.
A hooded figure emerged from the car in front, spraying an AK-47 in his direction, as the Toyota snaked through the narrow streets. Big Liam dropped his head as shards of windscreen fragmented around him. Invigorated by the adrenaline, he looked up again and emptied the rest of the clip towards the driver’s side of the car.
The gunman shaped to take aim once again, but was shaken from his position as his driver scraped past an oncoming hatchback. Losing control and veering across the single lane street, the yellow car ejected its gun-toting passenger into the glass window of McKillen’s homewares.
“That’s how I like My Killin’s” grunted Big Liam wryly as he sped past the mangled corpse in the otherwise well organised window display. Somehow the Toyota had regained control and was about to hit Broughshane St.
“Need to take this bastard out before we lose him in the countryside”, he thought to himself. Calling on years of local knowledge, he craftily diverted down the left hand side of the forked junction, speeding through the deserted car park off Ballymoney Road.
From the car park he could see his prey once again up ahead and gave the Audi all she had. Blazing down the hill at full speed, he caught the rear end of the Toyota with the front of the vehicle. Propelled into a balletic spin, the Japanese motor twisted across the road, caught the side of the kerb, and jerked upwards, rolling again and again. Until finally it rested, a lifeless heap, upside down.
His ears still ringing after the crash, he could feel a cold wet trickle on his forehead that could only be an open wound. His car was a wreck but still the right way up. A click of the seatbelt and he was able to wrestle himself free.
Big Liam approached his opponent’s overturned vehicle cautiously, to find only an empty cockpit. Surveying the scene further, a trail of blood led in the direction of the town’s retail beacon, Fairhill shopping centre…
The full moon cast long shadows over the tarmac of the deserted car park. The Ballymena skyline was an imposing vision against the night sky, but this was no time for sight-seeing. A scumbag was on the loose and Big Liam had the scent.
“Not one more step”, hissed a voice from behind. Then, the unmistakeable chill of a gun chamber at the base of his head. He raised his hands slowly.
“This is just like one of your movies Mr Neeson… and the shooting is about to begin” snarled the voice at his rear, before a hollow “click”.
Big Liam knew that sound… an empty chamber.
Without thinking, he spun around, whipping his right elbow back and into the scumbag’s face, sending the gun flying. Suddenly his was one-on-one with the attacker, just like his old boxing days. He thought back to the victorious last round in the Ulster amateur boxing final of ’66.
Two probing left jabs took his antagonist further by surprise. Dazed now, the creep took a wild swing that was easily blocked. A powerful blow to the torso countered the move, and a final, bone-crunching, uppercut to the head sent him clattering backwards, over the car park wall.
Back down at street level, the police had gathered, taking control of the scene. Mayor P J McAvoy welcomed him as he swaggered towards the throng.
His foe lay bloodied and broken on the street. Triumphantly, Big Liam reached for the crimson splattered jacket pocket and pulled out the scroll: The Freedom of Ballymena. He inspected it closely for damage.
“This award means everything to me, but what would they want with it?”
“Their cause requires weapons Mr Neeson”, explained the Mayor, “Weapons that are increasingly hard to come by. The Northern Ireland black market has been a great provider, but now the new peace threatens to put an end to that”.
“So they were trying to keep the Northern Ireland arms trade going by jeopardising the peace process? But where do I fit in?”
“You are a great hero to our people. Your achievements have brought the two communities together in a way no one would have imagined. The awarding of the freedom of Ballymena means the circle has become complete, the process is irreversible!“
Just then, there was a vibration in Big Liam’s jacket. He scooped his giant hand into the pocket to produce the mysterious phone from earlier. The display read “Incoming call from: The Boss”.
“Has the target been neutralised?”
That dour Coleraine drawl was recognisable immediately, thought Big Liam… “James Nesbitt”.
Well, I’m hooked! Big Liam versus James Nesbitt? You just know Nesbitt is going to have his neck snapped at some point. Thanks again to Denis for a cracking story and Lisa for the fantastic artwork. For more from Denis have a look here and here. Look out for Taken 3: Big Liam Comes Home at theatres soon!