Big Trouble in Little China 2

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BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA (A SEQUEL) 

The Six Demon Bag

Screenplay by Ari Knazan

©2025

This is a work of fiction based of the John Carpenter Film Big Trouble in Little China. As a fan for over 40 years, I decided to write a follow up to the 1986 movie, from a fan’s perspective.

THIS IS BEST READ WITH THE ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.

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INTRO: FADE IN:

EXT. CHINATOWN ALLEY – FALL – EVENING-SAN FRANCISCO

Two CITY WORKERS are prying open a manhole cover. The rain falls on the ground around them. They look unimpressed.

WORKER #1
Why do I always get stuck with these shitty jobs? And why is the weather always crappy?

WORKER #1 attempts to pry a heavy manhole cover.

WORKER #2
San Francisco, man. Weather always got a mind of its own.

A distant RUMBLE. The workers pause. Thunder rumbles overhead. A FLASH of lightning illuminates the alley for a split second.

WORKER #1
This job’s just getting better and better...

The camera pans away from them as a storm rolls into the Bay. The fog grows thicker, enveloping the street. A faint tremor shakes then shakes the ground as WORKER #1 finally pops open the manhole cover. WORKER #1 doesn’t feel the quake as he slips and falls back after prying open the heavy metal lid.

WORKER #2 (O.S.)
Whoa! You feel that?

WORKER #1

Feel what? Are you gonna help me or just stand around playing weather man?

WORKER #2

What the hell is that?

The camera then captures their faces as the both slowly lean in over the edge of the manhole cover, looking down into the sewer below. A faint green glow is seen casted on their faces. WORKER #1 and WORKER #2 have surprised and strange looks on their faces. The fog thickens, swallowing the alley. And then lightning seems to crackle around them.

CUT TO: INT. PORK CHOP EXPRESS OFFICE – DAY

A cluttered desk, papers everywhere. A faded tank top—Jack Burton’s old one— hangs on the wall. A letterhead reads: "Pork Chop Express Trucking Company." Phones ring. Outside, trucks are parked with the Pork Chop Express logo.

GRAYSON BURTON, JACK’s only son, late 30s, is on the phone, mid-argument.

GRAYSON BURTON

What do you mean, it’s gonna cost that much? Do you know how much I already pay in insurance?

He holds the phone between his ear and shoulder as he calmly uses a whetstone to sharpen his knife while on the phone. The knife is the unmistakable knife his father used 40 years before.

GRAYSON BURTON (CONT’D)
Listen, pal, I’ve got 300 pigs I need delivered and they are stinking up my office real bad. I expect you to…

The phone goes dead, The person on the other end hangs up on GRAYSON BURTON. He slams the phone down, muttering.

GRAYSON BURTON (CONT’D)
Total Bullshit.

GRAYSON stares at the blade he was just sharpening.

JACK BURTON (OFF CAMERA-VOICE ONLY)

Horseshit. You mean Horseshit Grayson.

GRAYSON looks up across the room and smiles.

Hi pops. I don’t know how you did for all these years.

Camera slowly pans to JACK as he emerges from an outside doorway. JACK still has his full thick mullet style hair albeit sliver grey in color. The lines of wisdom had imbedded themselves across his face. JACK is holding his leather saddle bags over his shoulder and pulling a beat-up suite case. He appears to have just landed back in San Francisco.

JACK BURTON

Kid, when the road gets bumpy, you grip the wheel tighter and drive right through your problem.

GRAYSON laughs.

GRAYSON BURTON

Ya, I figured it be something like that.

GRAYSON stands and walks across and gives JACK a big hug. 

GRAYSON BURTON

Good to see you pops.

JACK BURTON

Good to see you kid. You hungry?

GRAYSON BURTON

Starving!

JACK BURTON

Grab your jacket. Lunch is on me.

CUT TO BLACK AND FADE

OPENING TITLE: JOHN CARPENTER MUSIC

BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA: THE SIX DEMON BAG

PART ONE: OLD FRIENDS

INT. DRAGON OF THE BLACK POOL - AFTERNOON

The traditional Cantonese restaurant is alive with the clink of plates, low chatter, and the aroma of spices. Jack Burton, in a worn leather jacket, leads his son GRAYSON into the bustling dining room.

They sit at a corner table. MIAO YIN, elegant and warm, greets them from behind the counter. 

JACK
(laughing)
You know, Grayson, I think I’m actually owed some money. We may get lunch for free.

GRAYSON
(skeptical but curious)
Pop, Uncle Wang hasn’t lost a bet with you since 86. You probably owe him!

MIAO YIN
(smiling and greeting the two as they walk towards the back corner table)
Jack! It’s so good to see you again. It’s been too long.

Jack grins and kisses Miao on the cheek.

JACK
(jokingly) Well, I didn’t want to pressure Wang. He still owes me after all.

(the two laugh)

WANG
(emerges from the kitchen. Speaks to Grayson, shakes his hand and pulls him in for a hug)

You know Gray, I always feel safe around when you are around. You must have picked that up from your old man.

(winks at Jack)

Your father and I, we’ve been through storms—literal ones. But here, we just have peace.

GRAYSON
(smirking)
Guess that’s one thing I didn’t expect—peace at lunch with the old man.

MIAO YIN laughs softly. Then, as they chat, two young women walk in— MIAO YIN DAUGHTER, elegant, confident, and GRAYSON’S AGE. 

Her gazes meet across the room—a flicker of recognition.

MIAO YIN’s DAUGHTER: Simone
(cheerful)
Mom, is this the famous Jack Burton? And Grayson?

GRAYSON
(grinning)
Guilty as charged. Guess I have a bit of a legacy to live up to.

Wang and Jack exchange a look, then slowly rise.

JACK
(to Wang)
Come on, old friend. Let’s give them some space.

They grab their beers, sit at a small back table, and begin a quiet game of mahjong.

WANG
(sighing)
Egg Shen would’ve loved this, you know. He always said, the strongest magic is the one that brings people together.

JACK
(nods)
Yeah. And maybe, just maybe, it still is.

They clink their bottles, the tiles click softly, and a gentle understanding passes between them.

INT. DRAGON OF THE BLACK POOL - LATER

Jack and Wang sit at a small, tucked-away table, a couple of beers in front of them, and a small stack of mahjong tiles between them. The noise of the restaurant fades into a warm hum.

WANG
(leaning in)
So, Jack, how’s the business going with Grayson? I heard he’s taking over the Pork Chop Express.

JACK
(sighs, swirling his beer)
Yeah, he’s trying. It’s tough, Wang. The old routes, the new tech—it’s like the world’s left us behind. But he’s got fire in him.

WANG
(nods, thoughtful)
He does. But, Jack, I gotta ask—where have you been? I mean, after all those years—disappearing like that.

Jack looks down at his glass, then up, eyes soft.

JACK
(quietly)
After Lo Pan went down, I thought I was done. I drove across the country, took odd jobs—truck stops, diners, small towns. I didn’t want anyone knowing I was Jack Burton, you know? But something kept pulling me back here. San Francisco—this city, Wang—it never really let go.

Wang studies him, then gives a small smile, almost like he knew.

WANG
You know, Jack, Egg Shen always said the past is never really behind us. It waits. And maybe it waited for you.

Jack nods, takes a slow sip, and a flicker of something hopeful passes between them.

JACK
(smiling faintly)
Yeah. Maybe this time, I’m ready to see what’s waiting.

They clink their bottles, and the game begins, slow, quiet, with a weighty understanding between them.

PART TWO:

INT. EGG SHEN'S OLD BUILDING - NIGHT

A lone figure, silhouetted against the moonlight, pries at a weathered board. The sound of splintering wood echoes in the empty air. A flashlight flicks on—dust motes swirl as beams cut through the darkness.

The figure steps inside—cracked tile floors, peeling wallpaper. The flashlight pans over faded Chinese calligraphy and old photographs still pinned to the wall.

Then, a small crack in the floor—just barely visible. The figure kneels, dust crumbling under their fingers. Slowly, they pry up a wooden panel. Below, a rusted metal fire pole gleams in the beam of light. They swallow hard, take a breath, and begin to climb down.

INT. TUNNEL - CONTINUOUS

The flashlight bobs as they descend, hitting stone steps and a narrow metal ladder. The sound of dripping water echoes as they move deeper, and the walls close in until it opens into a vast, dark labyrinth beneath the city—ancient,

INT. EGG SHEN’S OLD BUILDING – NIGHT

A crumbling, boarded-up brick building stands under the pale moonlight. Two TEENAGERS, CODY (16) and LUCY (15), crouch by a side door. Sam pries at a loose board with a crowbar. The board cracks and falls away.

CODY
(breathless)
I told you, Lucy, there’s something here. This used to be Egg Shen’s place. I swear, something’s still down there.

LUCY
(nervous)
I don’t know, Cody. It looks so old—like, no one’s been here in decades.

They shine their flashlights inside, stepping carefully over broken bricks and debris. The air is heavy, and every sound echoes.

INT. TUNNEL – CONTINUOUS

Cody and Lucy duck under a fallen beam, their flashlights cutting through the damp darkness. The tunnel is narrow—stone walls slick with moss. They follow a faint outline in the floor—like a path worn by time.

LUCY
(whispering)
It’s like we’re stepping back in time. Look at these walls—they haven’t changed a bit.

They reach a collapsed section. Carefully, they move rubble aside, and the tunnel widens. Suddenly, they see it—an archway, barely visible, leading down.

INT. GRAND HALL – MOMENTS LATER

The beam of their flashlights lands on a vast, domed hall. The ceiling arches high, and in the center, the broken remnants of the altar from Lo Pan’s old wedding. A chill runs down their spines.

CODY
(whispering)
This was it. This is where it all happened.

Lucy steps forward, hesitant, but her eyes wide with curiosity.

LUCY
(softly)
What if the stories are true? What if something’s still waiting for us down here?

Their flashlights flicker as the air grows colder. The camera lingers on the altar—as if something unseen stirs in the shadows.

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I hope you liked my into -Ari