WE CALLED THEM GODS
"THE BLEED"
Pilot Episode
Written by
Nate Crowder
Draft 2
proof of concept: https://youtu.be/ekqcypf_mco [email protected]
(970) 413-1332
WGAW Reg: 2206496
COLD OPEN
EXT. SPACE
BLACK - SILENCE - NOTHING...
Something churns, screams, sparks - BRAAMM -
EXT. SPACE
A black hole. The accretion disk sparks and churns. Eerie,
placid — violence belching unnatural sound.
Wider — Earth in the distance. Something approaches. A
Megastructure — sunlight shimmers off many reflective
surfaces. Glass panels, perfectly adjoined into a truncated
icosidodecahedron. Squares, hexagons, massive decagons. It
tumbles like a glass soccer ball — streaks of light linger on
each panel until it spins from view.
WOMAN (V.O.)
John. It’s time. Wake up.
CUT TO BLACK.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Routine in the Void
INT. JOHN'S BEDROOM — NIGHT (OKLAHOMA CITY, 2027)
Dark room, high class, big. A MAN'S FACE — JOHN JONES. White,
40s, well-kept beard. Dressed GQ — black button up, slacks,
Rolex. Sits on the bed. Stares through a wall. Into the void.
Comes to. Palms his face. Sweat on his brow. Clocks the time.
3:00am.
JOHN
(to himself)
3 hours. Fuck.
QUICK CUTS:
INT. JOHN'S BATHROOM — CONTINUOUS
— Black pouch from under the sink
— ZIP — — Drugs. Powders and pills — POP —
— Tourniquet. Teeth. Syringe cap
— Needle finds vein. Plunges. Rinse. Repeat.
— Everything back — ZIP —
Shows no junkie satisfaction. This was simply business.
BACK TO SCENE
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
The Violent Anchor
INT. JOHN’S SUV - CONTINUOUS
A nice Porsche SUV. He pulls into a self storage - clocks
sign - “Oklahoma City Storage”
INT. STORAGE UNIT - CONTINUOUS
The metal storage door. -- CLACK CLACK CLACK --. It rolls
up.
Hands wrap thick wire around the positive terminal of a car
battery. Thirty more wired in series run back to a concrete
wall.
RAY KIND — 50s, Black. Bloodshot eyes, ghost-white wild afro.
Outfit is dirty jeans and t-shirt.
A string swings overhead — flickering orange bulb. Distorted
shadows on concrete.
Ray's eyes find John. A man out of place in this dark dingy
concrete tomb.
Ray unravels jumper cables — clamps to the battery, clamps
the other ends to a curved copper piece shaped like a
yarmulke.
John unbuttons his shirt. Folds it. Removes the Rolex.
Reaches for his left ring finger. Nothing there. Lingers.
Ray picks up a glass of chunky gray liquid.
RAY
Your first Violent Anchor?
Little if any emotion in Ray. His eyes stare through John.
JOHN
Yes.
Ray clocks the track mark on John’s arm.
RAY
That’s not working anymore. Is it?
(re: drug use)
John answers with an icy stare. No shame.
JOHN
Fuckin get on with it.
Ray lowers the cap onto John's head. Chin strap secured. John
bites down on a leather belt. His eyes settle. Unfazed.
Confident. He has done worse.
Ray flicks the generator on.
ZZZAP. John's head snaps back. Convulsions. Then nothing. He
is dead.
Mesmerizing — closer — closer — through a pupil —
INTO HIS CRANIUM. A green, wispy structure undulates above
the gray matter. Tendrils harden into dark-green claws. It
separates gyri. Its ravenous. Searching.
It finds what it needs. Lashes in. Goes taut around brain
like green cellophane .
Yellow bioluminescent circuitry pulses.
Ray calmly wheels over a cart with medical supplies. He
kneels over John. Checks watch. No hurry.
Scoots a thin pillow under John’s head. Jabs a syringe in his
arm - opens a defibrillator, frees the paddles, squirts gel,
rubs them together, flicks the switch —
HIGH PITCH HUM — charging — Paddles to chest. John jumps.
Head falls — THUD — on the pillow, which fails spectacularly
at its job. Ray waits for the next charge. Patient as a man
in line at the bank.
WEEEZ — ZAPP — jump — THUD. Third round. WEEEZ — ZAPPP ...
GASP.
Life floods in. GROAN. John clutches his head. GRUNT. Shakes
it, checking for loose parts.
RAY
You get it?
John nods
RAY (CONT’D)
Good. It'll stop The Bleed. But
next fews days will be strange.
BAMM — RATTLE — RATTLE.
The aluminum door swings open and a huge man walks in
backwards, dragging something with each arm. He slides the
bundles across the floor, closes the door.
The bundles are obviously human bodies. Bedsheets. Duct tape.
LEE — 30s, white, ginger flat-top, blood-spattered black
duster. Wild blue eyes. A grin like a jack-o-lantern that's
been at it too long.
LEE
Anyone down for some Slurry!
John's face: a pass. Ray's face: nothing.
ACT I
John enters a high-ceilinged entryway, of his high class
house - turns left into a beautiful kitchen.
A breakfast nook - a young woman rocks out through earbuds,
head-bangs while attempting to eat scrambled eggs.
Half the eggs make it to her mouth. The other half are in her
hair.
BETH — 20, wild-haired brunette, Faith No More T-shirt, an
ESP star-shaped red guitar leans against the table. She is
metal.
John watches from the doorway — clearly entertained.
His eyes drift to the counter. A box of Fruity Pebbles.
Something moves across his face. Gone before you can name it.
Beth looks up. Earbuds out. Her eyes... they hold in
something fierce.
BETH
Out all night? Aren’t you a bit old
for that.
Beth is a bit of a smart ass. But her body language and tone
conveys comfort and love.
JOHN
Thank you for that. But, as always,
you are right.
Beth’s eyes relax. They chuckle.
Beth approaches John - picks up her guitar on the way.
BETH
Got a gig tonight. Eight o'clock at
The Hammer.
She riffs. In a guttural metal growl:
BETH (CONT’D)
WITH THY AXE —
(re: guitar)
I SHALL EVISCERATE THE INNOCENTS. IMPALE THE HEARTS OF
INFIDELS AND VIRGINS. ODIN COMMANDS ME SO.
MEMORY HIT:
John in a dim, horrible place. Lee in a black, bloody apron,
hunched over — digs inside an eviscerated body. Yanks out the
heart. Holds it toward John in an offering pose. Smiles with
yellow, grimy teeth. Blood drips.
BACK TO SCENE
John goes pale. A slight gag.
She studies him head to toe.
BETH (CONT’D)
You look like shit, Dad. What’s
going on?
JOHN
Nothing. Nothing.
Beth looks annoyed by the lie.
BETH
Wh—
JOHN
(cutting her off)
Nothing to worry about. Okay?
Beth shoots a dirty look. Then a fake 'whatever'gesture.
BETH
Good luck with
(gestures him head to toe)
Whatever this is.
A long silence - Shame crosses John's face. Beth turns toward
the door. She stops. Grabs her guitar case — covered in
stickers. On one face: a hand-drawn sketch of Sara, and
beneath it in Beth's handwriting: 'RIP MOM 1984–2016. My
music is yours’
Her back to John, she loads the guitar and straps the case
on. Turns now with only love and concern. An tense silent
moment. She turns and with love.
BETH (CONT’D)
Get some rest. OK?
John nods.
BETH (CONT’D)
Love ya.
JOHN
Love you too. Now go. Kick ass. We
don’t want to anger Odin.
Beth answers with a confident smirk.
A beat. They share a look — tungsten-bond, shared weight,
shared history. Two people who've held the same grief.
Satisfied, she leaves.
A beat.
John’s eyes go wide.
JOHN POV: The room starts to buck like a bronco - faster -
vibrations - Concrete wall of the storage unit - flash -
bathroom wall - flash - inside a house -ZAP - sounds of
electricity - HUMMMMMMM - The sound of a creaky couch. White
light blinds everything. Slowly is darkens - focus.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Desperate Measures
INT. LIVING ROOM — NIGHT (16 YEARS AGO)
Close on a couch - then a middle-class living room. END POV.
A younger John sits on a couch - it CREAKS as he adjusts his
position. He looks disoriented, grabs his forehead.
John is noticeably younger, 30.
John clocks the TV - DENVER NEWS - MAY 7, 2011
Next to him, his wife — SARA, 30, white. Brunette. Her gaze
fixed on AMBROSE — M, 50s, white — sits in the adjoining
loveseat. Ambrose in an expensive gray suit, red tie. He owns
any room he enters. Gravitas.
John's hand finds Sara's. His face full of sadness and
desperation. He turns to her — that familiar affect. Ray's
flat demeanor but worse. Her eyes stare into the void, facial
muscles slack, dark bags under her eyes.
JOHN
Honey, did you hear what Ambrose
said? He may be able to help.
John takes her hand, holds it to his chest.
JOHN (CONT’D)
Honey?
Sara comes to.
SARA
Uhh. Did you say something?
Her voice... it’s familiar, it’s the Woman’s from the open.
JOHN
Ambrose can help.
Sara looks at Ambrose. Yanks her hand from John's.
SARA
What is he doing here? Go!
She starts to lunge but loses her grip on reality again. Back
to the void.
JOHN
Can you help her?
AMBROSE
Yes. But..
He looks down.
Tears run down John's cheek.
JOHN
No. No. I can't lose her again.
A 4-YEAR-OLD-BETH appears in Dora the Explorer pajamas,
Cinderella blanket in tow.
Ambrose clocks her. His zen evaporates. A rare crack in the
facade — utter shock — he processes — regains composure.
AMBROSE
(fascinated)
She's yours? Yours and Sara's?
John gives him a look that hits like a .45f
AMBROSE (CONT’D)
Not anymore. Not for some time.
John goes to Beth. Picks her up.
JOHN
Baby lady — you are supposed to be
asleep.
BETH
I got hungry. My tummy's growling.
John smiles.
JOHN
Go back to your room, wait five
minutes, and I'll bring you
something. Deal?
She considers this with appropriate gravity.
BETH
Peanut butter crackers?
John nods.
BETH (CONT’D)
Deal.
He puts her down. She pads back to her room. John watches her
go, then turns to Ambrose with eyes like daggers.
Sara comes to. Clocks Beth passing Ambrose. Loses it
entirely.
SARA
Don't you touch her. Why are you
here? GO!
She lunges. Beth screams and runs back to her dad, wraps
around his leg like a monkey. John gently restrains Sara with
Beth still attached to his shin.
JOHN
He's here to help. Everything is
okay.
SARA
(panic)
He saw her, John.
AMBROSE
Yes. You didn't hide her
particularly well, did you?
A chuckle. Then softer.
AMBROSE (CONT’D)
All right. Calm down.
He looks at Beth — still fused to her father's leg.
AMBROSE (CONT’D)
She is my niece. The most beautiful
girl in the world. How could I...
Beth grimaces at Ambrose. He responds with a smile that could
melt a glacier. John kneels down. Eye level with Beth.
JOHN
Everything's okay. Off to bed. I'll
be in soon.
Beth looks at her mother — vacant, gone. Her face droops -
lumbers back to her room.
John straightens. Looks at Ambrose with total and complete
surrender.
JOHN (CONT’D)
Take her. Please. Help her.
AMBROSE
I will, brother. I will.
Ambrose dials. Speaks quietly.
AMBROSE (CONT’D)
She's ready.
Seconds later — the front door. Two large MEN enter. One has
a syringe. Before he can inject, Sara comes to — screams,
kicks. The second man pins her arm. The needle goes in.
John turns away. Tears streaming. Sara's screams fill the
room.
SARA
John!! John!! Help me!
Ambrose puts a hand on John's shoulder.
AMBROSE
You did the right thing. This is
her best chance and you know it.
JOHN
Just take her. I can't...
Ambrose directs his men out. Sara's screams recede.
SARA
(fading)
John... Please...
Silence. A long pause.
AMBROSE
Your daughter is beautiful. Perhaps
I could meet her properly sometime?
John gives him a look that would kill most men.
JOHN
Just help my wife.
Ambrose nods and leaves. The energy in the room collapses.
John wipes his face. Takes a breath.
Beth stands peeks from behind a wall — tears in her eyes. She
saw the whole thing - turns and quietly drags her blanket
back to her room.
The floor drops out. Electricity. The current brings him
forward.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Countdown to Catastrophe
INT. JOHN’S KITCHEN - DAY (2027)
The same fancy kitchen. John grabs his forehead. GROAN.
JOHN
Fuck.
INT. JOHN'S LIVING ROOM — CONTINUOUS
$300,000 in furniture. John moves to the wall above the TV
— a fingerprint scanner, hidden in plain sight. CLICK —
CLICK. TV swings out. A door.
INT. JOHN'S CENTCOM - CONTINUOUS
Five serious hacker rigs. Seven or eight screens. Mr. Robot
on steroids. A Romanian hacker’s wet dream.
John sits, swivels his chair to the center console.
Rests his palm on a circular sensor. A holographic Earth
emits above the table.
He spins the globe, spins his finger above the artic. A
vortex forms, grows and devours the planet.
JOHN
Not on my watch asshole.
He spins the Earth again touches to stop and it changes to a
live satellite composite of the planet. Spins slow, studies.
Eyes see something - stops it on Africa. Pulls hand back —
Earth shrinks - Earth orbit above central Africa. A blueish
flash, a beam - More blue beams emit from the same place on
the surface.
John's eyes light up.
JOHN (CONT’D)
Gotcha. Here we go.
A mischievous smile.
JOHN (CONT’D)
It’s time.
John sits and boots the stack. Screens light up in rapid
succession:
Screens - a high-end dark-net market, drugs, weapons. A
massive 100 million dollar crypto transaction completes. The
banner at the top features THREE CUNEIFORM SYMBOLS:
- An image of a crusty dude with a name and location: DRAMMAD
HASSAR - BLACK COUNTRY, UK
- An MI5 portal. John hits 'SEND' the file uploads.
He opens a video call. FRENCH — 40, White/Latina, thick
glasses, lab coat — answers from a high-tech lab.
Big windows reveal a snowy mountain landscape.
FRENCH
Hey. How did it go?
JOHN
Wonderful. Death by electrocution —
overrated.
FRENCH
You feel tuned in?
JOHN
Maybe - but...
FRENCH
But what?
JOHN
Nothing I can’t handle.
Silence.
FRENCH
Lucid flashbacks. Time loss. Just a
guess.
French looks sad.
JOHN
French, it doesn’t matter. It’s
started
FRENCH
Shit.
A moment. She looks terrified.
John takes a breath. Leans into the screen.
JOHN
He's going to burn it, All of it.
Everything.
John catches her eyes with his and locks on.
JOHN (CONT’D)
(not negotiable)
You have a day.
That sits.
FRENCH
A day?
JOHN
Yes. Same plan, I bring the kid to
you. Just one little change.
A beat.
FRENCH
What?
JOHN
Picking up 3 more friends along the
way. Gonna need backup.
FRENCH
Oh. 4? Okay. And the kid? Are you
sure it’s him?
JOHN
You focus on the machine. I got the
kid.
An orangutan knuckle-walks behind her. She glances back.
FRENCH
(optimistic)
I just sent Louie through.
(re: orangutan)
So far so good. It’s ready.
SUDDENLY — Louie erupts in an angry guttural growl. Full
offensive posture. Scientists appear with a syringe — before
they intervene, Louie simply stops. Lies down. Snores.
JOHN
What the fuck?
FRENCH
(not confident)
Oh, that. That's nothing. Louie can
be moody. All is well. It's fine.
John gives her an 'oh fuck' look. Then his the steel returns.
JOHN
I believe in you.
FRENCH
I know. And it'll be ready.
They share a look. A bond. A beat - tension drops.
FRENCH (CONT’D)
I hope you know what you are doing?
He gives a a stone cold look of confidence. Ends call.
He goes to a console. Types. Screen shows flight manifest -
One name is clear - KEMP ALBURN -
JOHN
(to himself)
Sorry brother.
John opens a terminal. Enters short script and the screen
lights up red. Reads: WARNING: MULTIPLE NODES OPEN. SECURITY
COMPROMISED.
JOHN (CONT’D)
(to himself)
Come and get me.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Signals from the Underground
INT. UNDERGROUND BUNKER — DAY
Carved rock. Cathedral-scaled. A hollowed out mountain - a
marvel.
AMBROSE — new vessel, 30s, British Indian — reclines on a
leather couch, phone in hand, face lit blue by its glow. Same
razor-sharp gray suit, red tie. Elegant even in a cave.
He watches a 3D holographic Earth rotate - a wormhole - The
planet comes apart. Resets. Comes apart again.
A TECHNICIAN — 40s — appears.
TECHNICIAN
Sir.
(corrects himself)
I mean Ambrose the Divine. We have
a signal.
Ambrose doesn't look up.
TECHNICIAN (CONT’D)
Two, actually.
Hands him a device. Studies screen.
Something crosses his face — not quite a smile. The
satisfaction of a proof completing itself.
AMBROSE
My two little birdies.
He straightens his tie.
AMBROSE (CONT’D)
Where?
TECHNICIAN
WILL ROGERS AIRPORT.
AMBROSE
Where the fuck is that?
TECHNICIAN
Oklahoma sir.
Ambrose - quick glance at the holographic Earth. The planet
rips apart.
AMBROSE
Send a team. Capture Kemp, kill the
rest.
TECHNICIAN
What about John Jones?
AMBROSE
I have something special planned
for him.
END ACT I
ACT II
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Preparation for the Job
INT. KEMP’S BEDROOM - DAY (BIRMINGHAM, UK 2027)
Easing back - a dark-cobalt iris - an eye - a man’s face
takes shape. KEMP ALBURN, 50’s, Black-British, a rugged Alpha
with serious gravitas.
Kemp sits up, puts his face in palms, rubs eyes, stands, and
yells out:
KEMP
(Brummie-Baddass-Peaky-
Blinders accent)
CADE, wake the fuck up you. Got
work!
CADE (O.S.)
(same badass accent)
Ok pops, give me a bit... Fuck.
CADE, mid-20s Black-British. Kemp’s son, total badass.
The OLD HOUSE is pretty run-down.
They meet in the KITCHEN for breakfast and eat like prisoners
- fast, efficient.
CADE (CONT’D)
What's the job?
KEMP
Wet-work for our MI5 mates.
CADE
They can't do anything anymore.
KEMP
Don’t want their donnie’s dirty.
Phone - BEEP - Kemp checks.
KEMP (CONT’D)
MI5. Target in the Black Country.
Let's get strapped.
KEMP'S ROOM — lockbox from under the bed. Inside: guns,
knives, grenades. Badass shit. Buckle up...
MUSIC CUE: “METAL GODS” by Judas Priest
- Kemp puts on black combat pants and a tactical vest -
secures various blades in pockets - the KNUCKLE KARAMBIT is
the filthiest
- Sounds of zippers and Velcro find the rhythm.
- He removes two handguns, a SIG SAUER P228 M11-A1 and a
GLOCK 19.
- CADE puts on his camo combat pants and tactical vest. His
choice of blade is a COLD STEEL MAKER PUSH DAGGER. For guns-
a BARETTA 92, and CZ 75
- They place their guns on the desk - side by side
- At otherworldly speed, they tear the guns down - a blur.
- Lay components on a soft towel - clean
- Reassemble gun components in unison - like it’s a race -
again, the speed - supernatural.
- The sound of gun-metal as it engages - CLICK - CLICK -...
Synchronized in beautiful rhythm with the music of their
Birmingham brethren - Judas Priest.
“Mehhhhhtal Gahhds....”
END MUSIC
A wallet-fucking trailer, eh?
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Target Acquisition
EXT. GRASS FIELD — DAY
A black van under trees. In the distance an abandoned 4 story
TENEMENT.
INT. OP VAN - CONTINUOUS
Kemp and Cade screw silencers on guns. A third man, ZAZ a
pale, skinny, Welshmen about 40, at a console. He has a Boba
Fett T-shirt on and thick horn rimmed glasses. A grey Tabby
cat on his lap. --MEOW--
ZAZ
(very Welsh)
Hungry. Is it? Ate, you did. Got
work.
Zaz types at unnatural speed. Script flies down the screen
reflects green off the inside lenses of his glasses.
Screen: three human shaped heat signatures.
ZAZ (CONT’D)
Gents.
Kemp and Cade clock screen.
ZAZ (CONT’D)
Three ugly birdies down low.
Pan
ZAZ (CONT’D)
Four ugly birds up above.
Pans up. Orange human and something red-hot.
ZAZ (CONT’D)
And atop all the birds is this
(points are heat sig)
biggest and hottest of all the
turds.
Cade winces. Zaz types.
Screen: picture of a white man about 30. Looks like a shit
face, bad hygiene loser.
ZAZ (CONT’D)
Meet WILLIAM CORNCHESTER. Born in
Yorkshire. Radicalized in school.
Now he goes by DRAMMAD HASSAR.
Cade laughs.
CADE
Willy Cornchester fancies himself a
terrorist.
ZAZ
He is middle man, drone runner.
CADE
Why MI5 need us then?
KEMP
He like to blow shite up. Target
now is a school in the black
country.
CADE
Ok. A real scumbag.
(to the screen)
Willy meet death.
Kemp and Cade put on night vision. Flip up. Out they go.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Shite Bomber Showdown
EXT. A FOGGY FIELD - CONTINUOUS
A hundred yards out - the run-down abandoned TENEMENT.
Then — POOF — Kemp and Cade fly through fog at otherworldly
speed. Kemp raises his hand — lights out.
QUICK CUT: IN VAN. ZAZ clocks KEMP. Pushes a key. BACK TO
SCENE.
Backs to the door. Cade's face lights up. A quick 'it's on
now' look to his dad. Synchronous pull-down of night vision —
they enter.
CADE POV: Night vision — CZ fires — THWIP THWIP THWIP — three
bright green corpses.
CADE
Clear.
KEMP POV: SIG fires — CLACK CLACK — two more green corpses.
KEMP
Clear.
Up the stairs. Windows. Light. Night vision off.
BACK TO SCENE
A hallway. Kemp: left. Cade: right.
Cade breezes the hall. Two goons — smiles, switches to
blades, dash — a blur - slash - neck opens. Blood. Hand
chokes its own neck. Fails to stop spurting. Goon down.
Next goon rushes high. Cade goes low. Double push daggers:
bilateral-simultaneous-Achilles penetration. Twist - CRUNCH -
twist - CRUNCH - daggers out. Blood and shredded tendon.
GOON
FUCK!! AHHH! FUCK! FUCK!
Cade stands. Tosses a dagger up - mid-air catch - stabs into
neck all one motion. Twists it, turns it. - SQUISH - pulls
it. And.. THUD — two dead men on blood-soaked carpet.
Two more run into view. CLACK — CLACK. They fall. Kemp
appears, clocks Cade's mess.
Cade holds up blades, gives a 'you're a puss' shrug. Up the
stairs. Kemp holsters. Shows Cade his blades. An 'okay son,
watch and learn' smirk.
Two men exit rooms — one ahead, one behind Kemp. Clocks first
then second.
Kemp spins a knuckle karambit on each hand at his waist level
— a blur.
One graceful step - drops to a knee - closes his eyes - back
to one goon, front to other. They rush him. His wrists
explode in perfectly controlled 90-degree turn — SLICE — an
ancient violence.
Blood - an Adam's apple stuck to a blade. Both goons hit the
floor, hands over necks, choking, dying.
Kemp flings the cartilage from blade — blood spatter and
tissue blur everything. Chunks slowly ooze down. - PLOP -
Clear.
Drammad sits at a computer, white dude wears a red track suit
with a fucking turban on his head. Boxes of drones stacked
close by. His thumb on the trigger of a bomb detonator.
DRAMMAD
I will blow this fuckin place!
Cade laughs on first site of this loser.
KEMP
Really? You'd just blow it all up?
Not very memorable, now, is it?
(to Cade)
Would it, son?
CADE
See? We don't exist in the eyes of
the British government, it'll be
written up as some wannabe
terrorist who blew hisself up and
shat his pants.
(pause)
'Shite Bomber' would be the
headline.
They laugh. Drammad doesn't.
KEMP
Son. That was... ok.
CADE
(proud smile)
Ya. See what I did there?
DRAMMAD
You're insane!
KEMP
(leaning on wall and
deadpan)
Most definitely.
Cade clocks detonator.
CADE
Is that a dead man's trigger,
Willy? Can I call you Willy?
Drammad is an arse name. I’m gonna
call you Willy.
He looks around.
CADE (CONT’D)
So — where's the bomb, Willy?
Drammad's eyes flick involuntarily to the room behind him.
Cade tracks it. Smiles.
DRAMMAD
If I let go —
CADE
Yeah yeah. Boom. We get it.
Cade walks into the room. Returns with three sticks of C$
with receivers. He juggles them, slow at first.
DRAMMAD
STOP! You'll kill us all!
KEMP
(trying not to laugh)
Son. Don't kill us.
CADE
Won't be like last time. Promise,
Pop. I've been practicing.
KEMP
On what? I don't have C4 lying
around the house.
CADE
Chocolate Bars. Big ones.
Tosses one Stick of C4 up. Catches it. Two. Nearly drops one.
Drammad looks woozy.
CADE (CONT’D)
Okay, okay. I think I feel the
weight now.
DRAMMAD
Please! I have information! I can —
CADE
Too late, Willy.
Cade runs at Drammad. Squeezes his hand around the trigger
Shoves his wheeled chair toward window, c4 dropped in his lap-
and - CRASH -through the third-floor window. - BOOM BOOM BOOM
- Drammad explodes before he hits the ground.
Kemp and Cade look down at the mess.
KEMP
You think he soiled hisself?
CADE
'Shite Bomber.' Eh?
KEMP
Shame we'll never have proof.
CADE
It's the unknowing that keeps me up
at night.
Cade snatches a SSD out of the computer on the way out.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Bait and Cowboy Hats
INT. RANGE ROVER - CONTINUOUS
Kemp starts the van. Cade slides into the front - wipes blood
off his push dagger- Tosses a cracked, blood-smudged hard
drive back to Zaz. Zaz catches - plugs it in.
CADE
Let’s see who sold Willy his
fireworks.
The reflection of cascading code dances in his glasses.
ZAZ
Bypassing his local encryption...
accessing the offshore ledger...
and...
Zaz stops. He leans closer to the screen.
ZAZ (CONT’D)
Well, dew...dew!
CADE
Shit? Where? Willy?
KEMP
Welsh, dumbass. He found something
ZAZ
The C4 supplier. It’s an anonymous
dark-net syndicate, but look at the
banner.
Kemp looks back. His face goes sharp.
Screen shows a sleek, high-end dark-net marketplace. At the
top - THREE CUNEIFORM SYMBOLS:
Kemp looks pissed.
CADE
(hasn’t seen symbol)
What is it?
Kemp points back and Cade turns - clocks it.
CADE (CONT’D)
Ohhh...
KEMP
(quietly)
It's bait.
CADE
Can’t be. MI5 gave us this target.
Kemp’s cobalt eyes lock onto the windshield. The realization
hits him like a throat punch.
KEMP
And who do you think gave it to
MI5?
A heavy silence drops over the Rover. Zaz looks at Kemp.
KEMP (CONT’D)
He knew we’d take the contract. He
knew we’d pull the drive. Always 10
steps ahead.
ZAZ
That he is.
KEMP
Where is he?
Zaz taps a single key. A location pings on the map.
ZAZ
Oklahoma City.
(again drained of
excitement)
Oklahoma City.
Zaz does not look happy.
KEMP
Book the flights.
Kemp glances back at Zaz.
KEMP (CONT’D)
What?
Zaz pets his cat.
ZAZ
What? Greedo is what. And I can--
Kemp cuts him of.
KEMP
Dot next door will take him.
Zaz still not sold. Kemp - business-like.
KEMP (CONT’D)
Thirty percent?
Zaz ponders.
Cade lifts his head from his phone.
CADE
Oklahoma City. Done. YEE-HAW! We
gotta get us some cowboy hats,
gents.
Zaz looks at Kemp.
ZAZ
(deadpan)
Thirty percent and a cowboy hat.
Kemp hits the gas.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Missed Connections
EXT. OUTSIDE PAWN SHOP — DAY
John's SUV. Steps out in jeans, flannel, aviators — phone to
his ear. The sign above reads: “BIG CITY PAWN”
JOHN
(to himself)
Answer the fucking phone.
Muffled voicemail. - BEEP -
JOHN (CONT’D)
Beth, this is call five. Call me
back. Please.
INT. THE HAMMER BAR — CONTINUOUS
A dimly lit empty bar. The sound of a badass Metal riff that
demands submission.
Someone on stage. Closer - it’s Beth on guitar making the
room quiver. A solo, pre-show shed.
She is the Metal Queen - her hair flies - hand a blur - foot
to pedal - music goes filthy. Her face: full trance- wide
eyed, raw and refined. A mad-woman and a genius. A master at
work in her arena.
Music isn’t a hobby for Beth, it’s a religion.
Backstage — her guitar case. Her phone reads: 5 MISSED CALLS.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
The Awakening of Bashmu
INT. PAWN SHOP — CONTINUOUS
Typical pawn shop. John coughs loud. Nothing. Coughs louder.
CARL — 60s, white, Uncle Fester energy — limps over. Sees
John. Goes serious. Submissive.
JOHN
Today is the day.
CARL
Oh. Exciting. Been too long.
Rubs his hands. Quasimodo's to back. Drags out a black trunk.
CARL (CONT’D)
All there.
JOHN
Good. Your job, Carl. What is your
job?
CARL
Keep them here. Keep them here.
Yes.
JOHN
And?
CARL
Keep them here.
JOHN
Perfect.
John smirks - a signal to Carl.
CARL
Oh. Yes sir. All done. Exquisite.
He reaches down — THUNK — on the glass countertop. The most
unique revolver in existence.
Massive — barrel and frame: Smith and Wesson 500. Cylinder
and trigger: Civil War era, Whitneyville Dragoon. Grip: a
robust, plow-handle covered in gray python skin. Shiny. The
groove depth feels alive. In fact, the entire gun is an
organism. Perfect. One of a kind. Fifty caliber.
Carl runs his finger from chrome-coated steel to the
glistening python grip.
CARL (CONT’D)
Cleaned and polished. New frame.
New grip.
John's face goes soft.
CARL (CONT’D)
Sure you want it back?
John ignores him. Eyes only on the gun.
JOHN
(to gun with care)
Bashmu.
He picks it up with ease. A thorough, loving check from tip
to grip. Behind flannel, a shoulder-holster. Bashmu goes in.
JOHN (CONT’D)
Good, Carl. Good.
He lifts the trunk with little effort. Sunlight surrounds his
silhouette as he walks out.
INT. UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE — DAY
A dark, half-empty parking garage. John carries the black
trunk to a Dodge Caravan. Hits the fob — BEEP BEEP. Slides
the door open. Lifts the trunk in.
INT. JOHN'S SUV - CONTINUOUS
Parked in parking garage.
Everything goes bonkers. Vibrates. Electricity.
JOHN
Fuck! Not again. AHHH!
Blurry spins. This one is going to be nuts.
END ACT II
ACT III
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Eerie Revelations in the Storage Unit
INT. STORAGE UNIT — NIGHT (CONTINUATION OF THE OPEN)
John disoriented. Migraine blinks, gathers.
Concrete walls. Lee drags the two bodies wrapped in bed
sheets. Ginger-flat-top on a huge musty man. Uncomfortable to
look at. His energy is endearing in a way, but not enough to
relieve any goosebumps.
LEE
You just had an Anchor. You need a
Slurry.
RAY
Decreases the chance of de-
coalescence by ten percent. Don’t
want to get lost.
John grabs his head and nods in agreement.
LEE
Come on. Let me show you my office.
Lee gets the bodies — one hand on a single leg — drags them
behind - John watches - Looks down - two parallel blood
streaks on concrete.
Walks through sledgehammer-made entrance into the neighboring
unit. John hasn't moved.
Eyes on the blood. Lee calls out:
LEE (CONT’D)
Buddy — you need to learn how to
mix a Slurry. If shit goes south
for ya.
He laughs. Ray says something to Lee — faint, out of earshot.
Lee is never out of earshot.
LEE (CONT’D)
Holy shit. No way!
Then, to John:
LEE (CONT’D)
We don't get your type in here
much. Or ever. What the fuck are
you doing here?
John doesn’t answer.
LEE (CONT’D)
Never mind. Times are strange.
He lumbers on. CHHHSHHH — bodies drag on concrete.
Lee, Ray and bodies walk through a tarp, John follows. A
small area enclosed by blue tarp. Light from battery powered
lanterns reflects an eery green that illuminates a big cold
steel autopsy table.
--BAM-- Lee slams one dead body on the table. A MAN about 50.
John clocks the man’s face - something familiar, something...
The man’s face flickers, John’s face flickers, they alternate
in flashes so fast the faces almost combine.
--electricity - the current pulls him way back
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Business at Dusk
EXT. MILITIA COMPOUND - NORTHERN COLORADO - NIGHT (2004)
SUPER: NORTHERN COLORADO, 2004
The face, a dead ringer for TOM MAXWELL, 50s, White, wears a
white suit. A slightly overweight middle aged man with a kind
face. He looks out at the beautiful Colorado sunset and 10
acres of dirt and trashy mobile homes surrounded by a 10 ft
chainlink fence topped with barbed wire. Clocks a 8ft x 8ft
animal pen, inside 2 sleeping Black Bears - he winces at the
atrocity.
Tom walks around his silver Mercedes Benz to meet 2 men
waiting to greet him. BILL JONES, 40s, White, bald, in a
military surplus camo, and his son, JOHN JONES, 20, who is
dressed in baggy jeans, wannabe white boy hip-hop garb.
Bill reaches out to shake Tom’s hand, revealing the large
swastika tat on his forearm.
Bill smiles, yellow teeth and holy shit this 5ft 4in wiry,
jittery dude has neurological shit going on; diagnosis - meth
brain rot.
BILL
WOO! It’s colder than a witches...
t-t-tater out here.
Whiffs on the simile’s vehicle.
TOM
Yup. Freezing wind.
Tom doesn’t look cold. Bill glances at John who is slouched a
bit. Bill smacks him in the back of his head.
BILL
Boy stand straight. Be respectful.
John’s face turns red. His amber eyes look angry, like a dog
trained to fight.
BILL (CONT’D)
Shake the m-man’s hand boy.
John begrudgingly reaches out - shakes.
TOM
Nice to meet you son. I’m Tom.
JOHN
(quiet, avoids eye
contact)
I’m John.
BILL
You want to go inside
(gestures to the nicest
mobile home)
Have a whiskey...
Oh. Bill just went || ... and... << a touch and >
BILL (CONT’D)
Whiskey or a bourbon or... Tab
Cola?
TOM
Thank you. But I would prefer we
attend to business.
BILL
Okay. Not a man to slow jerk the
pony. I r-respect that.
Tom smiles. Cool and refined in comparison. He studies Bill,
seems entertained.
Bill gestures to a golf cart. As they hop in, Tom clocks bear
pen. Bill drives - dust kicks up as the cart drives toward
the last inch of sun before it creeps below the horizon.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
A Night at the G-Gators
EXT. COMPOUND - CONTINUOUS
The cart parks in front of a run down double wide. They get
out - full moon above.
BILL
...Florida, it’s the only place you
can find two, one-legged hookers,
my friend. G-Gators.
Bill uses both index fingers in a hopping motion. Gets cross-
eyed looking at them - shakes his head vigorously.
Tom winces. Thinks a moment. And he goes over-the-top
sarcastic. He looks like he wants to have fun with this
scumbag.
TOM
That is fantastic Bill. So many
stories. Please continue.
Bill takes this as a compliment. Smile and a healthy twitch.
BILL
(gestures to the door of
double wide)
Please uhh.. see my office.
Wide yellow-tooth smile.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Shiny Lab, Dark Possession
INT. BILL’S METH LAB - CONTINUOUS
A clean meth lab. Woh. Shiny stainless steel and glass. Not
amateur at all. Pyrex’s full of pounds and pounds of meth.
DAVE, Korean-American, 25, polishes steel. Bill gestures for
him to leave - he abides.
Oh my. Bill hops up on a big steel tank like a methed out
Leprechaun. Goes full on Demi Moore on it.
BILL
W-W-What you think.
(arms wide out to his lab)
Shiny, shiny like a...
Bill ||... and... volume ^ and... >
BILL (CONT’D)
Mermaid’s butthole!
A moment.
BILL (CONT’D)
Get it?
Tom looks confused - he doesn’t. Responds with a sickening
sarcastic laugh.
TOM
Fantastic Bill. This place... well
done sir.
Slow clap.
TOM (CONT’D)
Well done.
Tom begins to explore.
BILL
Go ahead check it out.
Tom did not ask for permission.
BILL (CONT’D)
John and I can cook up 4 pounds a
week, direct to you.
Tom clocks a cassette player and tapes. One tape catches his
eye. DANZIG.
TOM
Perfect.
He holds up tape.
TOM (CONT’D)
Do you mind?
BILL
Go ahead.
-- CLACK CLICK -- hits play.
MUSIC CUE: “WHO THE GODS KILL” by Danzig
“woh, woh-ee, ohh a ohhh” The beautiful voice of Glen Danzig,
TOM
A genius. Truly.
JOHN
Danzig is a god!
Tom’s eyes connect with John’s like a laser. Scary. Evil.
TOM
There are no more gods John. We
make our own destiny.
Tom’s voice or maybe wind shakes the trailer. John takes a
step back. Tom diffuses with a smile. Bill is over grinding
on steel, doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.
Tom goes to Bill - Gives “what the fuck look.” Bill snaps out
of it.
BILL
Best lab you ever seen. Huh?
TOM
It is nice. Top notch. Not as big
as ones in the Middle East. Iraq.
BILL
Iraq? We kicked Saddam’s ass. Scud
missiles went sc-d-duh-ddle.
TOM
I know. I worked for him. CIA-
sponsored product funded the whole
region. I carried the torch.
He gets sentimental.
TOM (CONT'D) (CONT’D)
Saddam was a rare, pure psychopath.
Had a kid writing the Quran in his
own blood — dipped his pen right in
the bowl. Kid finishes a few pages.
Saddam looks over his shoulder,
picks up a paring knife, slits his
throat. Blood everywhere. You know
what he does next?
Jaws dropped. No answer.
TOM (CONT'D) (CONT’D)
Takes a bite out of a bloody apple.
Says "Shit writing. Use the
printing press."
Danzig’s voice swells: “Would you let it go-oh-oh”
TOM (CONT’D)
Alright gents. Keep eye contact
please.
Bill and John are literally in a trance. Tom’s eyes glow
green. The air in the room smells like ozone. Hairs on necks
straighten.
BILL
W-W-Who are you?
TOM
Who am I? Complicated. I have been
many people. But wrong question.
What am I? Is better.
Tom's voice reverberates off the walls, shaking the trailer.
His face vibrates - blurry.
TOM (CONT’D)
To some, I am a source of
salvation. To others, a reminder of
lost wisdom. To you Bill, in this
moment, I am death. Aren't you
listening to the music, Bill?
Danzig belts: “Show me how the gods kill” The guitar screams
like a banshee.
Tom looks to John.
TOM (CONT’D)
There may be redemption for you.
Keep eye contact.
Bill snaps out of it. Lunges.
Tom takes a step back. Slips Bashmu out from her holster. --
BOOM -- Fuckin hell. A hole the size of Texas in Bill’s
chest. He flies back and ricochets off the tank.
TOM (CONT’D)
Holy shit.
Holsters Bashmu - sits down - still, like a Buddist monk -
THEN...
A green wispy ghostlike entity exits his body. Floats toward
John. Hovers over his head...
Then it darkens, hardens - Tendrils extend into claws and it
woodpeckers John skull.
JOHN
AHHH. FUCK. AHHH.
It opens a tunnel and shimmies its way in like a rabid
ferret.
John’s body contorts. Arms go down. Face goes flat. He falls
back bounces on ground supine like a restrained psych patient
- convulses. Eyes go wide - pulse green a moment.
Sits up- shakes his head.
JOHN (CONT’D)
(to himself)
Much better. Thank you John.
He clocks Tom - he is dead. John slips his hand in Tom’s
coat. Retrieves Bashmu. Cooly tucks it.
The Asian guy bursts in with a shotgun. Scans the mess.
DAVE
What the fuck? Fuck!
Looks at John.
JOHN
Dude. It’s terrible. Guy seemed
nice.
DAVE
Noo. Bro. Not nice. Not at all.
John reaches for Bashmu. But he studies Dave. Face loosens -
hand stops - Eyes think. A tiny smile. Dave may be a pet
project.
JOHN
So Dave. Those bears like meat?
Dave stunned - nods.
JOHN (CONT’D)
Got a chainsaw somewhere?
John’s face flickers. Electricity. The current yanks him one
step forward.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Slurry of Time
INT. STORAGE UNIT - NIGHT (2027 - BACK TO OPEN)
John stares into he void- snaps out of it.
LEE
You back yet?
JOHN
What? Shit. How long?
RAY
53 minutes.
JOHN
Shit.
John gathers.
LEE
You need Slurry. Almost done.
Lee now in a black rubber apron, scalpel in hand, stands over
the table - man is eviscerated - Chest plate propped at his
feet like a rack of ribs.
LEE (CONT’D)
The anchor is a bitch. You jump
through time, mostly past,
sometimes future. It will stop.
Slurry will help.
John gives a stoic nod as he takes in this back alley
autopsy. But he isn’t shocked or grossed out. He is numb.
Ray stands next to Lee, facing away. His white afro glows
blue. Lee tosses a kidney into a plastic bin. Without
looking, Ray reaches in, takes it. CHOP CHOP CHOP — organ
slices.
John stands with arms crossed. The other body — still wrapped
— crowds his tiny space. Sounds of evisceration. The iron
smell of blood and tissue.
LEE (CONT’D)
(like a demented teacher)
Mitochondria is the only organelle
with its own DNA and it’s inherited
from the mother. And that makes it
easy to find genetic matched. How
you ask?
John didn’t ask.
A creepy clever smile.
LEE (CONT’D)
Ancestry.com.
THWACK — a lung slaps the table. Flounders like a fish out of
water.
John ignores. Steel face. Not hurried, not happy. Just
business.
LEE (CONT’D)
Fun fact nobody knows. Mito DNA,
It’s older than this planet. All
reasons why it stays while the rest
drifts away. Mito is forever
John gives an “I already know bud” look.
THWACK — pancreas bounces on the table. Ray snatches it.
SQUISH — into the bin.
John tracks a dark rivulet crossing the concrete toward his
shoe - moves shoe.
Lee's hands go back in — SQUISH SQUISH RIP — yanks out the
liver - DRIP DRIP -
LEE (CONT’D)
Ray. What's liver thing the
Hannibal guys says?
RAY
(without hesitation or
emotion)
I ate his liver with some fava
beans and a nice chianti.
LEE
Ray knows all the movie lines.
Hands back in -- RIP --
LEE (CONT’D)
Here it comes. A buffet of
mitochondria.
Lee pulls out the heart. Holds it on both palms toward John —
an offering. Eyes locked on John. Frozen open smile. Yellow
teeth. A beat for image.
LEE (CONT’D)
The heart.
John’s confident veneer finally melts into something that
looks most like surrender. He no longer pities Ray or Lee. He
pities himself.
WHIRRRR — a blender. Ray pours the contents into a glass.
Gray. Chunky. Disgusting. Holds it out to John. A long pause.
John takes it. Studies it. Looks at Ray. One more look at the
glass. He drinks.
His face says everything and reveals nothing.
LEE (CONT’D)
Good. Good. Umbra needs its slurry.
Drink. Drink.
John’s POV: The room bucks like a bronco. Electricity. The
current pushes him forward again.
INT. JOHN’S SUV - DAY (2027)
The parking garage vibrates. END POV
Back to the present. John grabs his head.
JOHN
For fuck’s sake.
Looks at clock. 2:00pm.
JOHN (CONT’D)
God dammit.
Starts car.
Genres:
["Thriller","Sci-Fi","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Traveling Adventures: From Birmingham to Oklahoma
INT. KEMP’S HOUSE - DAY
Zaz, Kemp and Cade. Kemp and Cade dressed for travel. Cade
still in Boba-Fett shirt.
Kemp in the middle. He turns.
KEMP
Get the led out boys.
BEGIN MONTAGE:
— Luggage — CRACK — ZIP — ZIP —
— Sad looks as Kemp and Cade return weapons to the lockbox
- BLUMMP — CLICK —
— House door — SLAM —
— Cab ride. Car door — SLAM —
— Through the back window: Bull Statue, St. Philip's
Cathedral, The Black Sabbath Bridge, Ozzy Osbourne statue,
Birmingham Library, a street mural of Rob Halford reading:
'BIRMINGHAM — BIRTHPLACE OF HEAVY METAL.'
— They enter Heathrow.
— Security line. Candy Crush on Kemp's screen.
— Cade sets off the body scanner. Red square blinks on his
crotch. Officer frisks him.
— Cade winks at an attractive woman while gesturing to the
red square.
CADE
(whispers to woman)
Happens every time.
— She smiles.
— They board. Plane takes off — HEEEHHHHEEWWW —
— Asleep. Zaz's head on Cade's shoulder.
— Cade exits the airplane bathroom followed by the woman from
security. Disheveled. Lipstick on his neck.
— Wheels hit — BUMP — BUMP — SQUEEELL —
— They deplane: WILL ROGERS WORLD AIRPORT. Tiny. A ghost
town.
— Airport store. Cade and Zaz try on cowboy hats.
— They walk away — Kemp in the middle, towering over both men
in their new cowboy hats.
END MONTAGE
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Ambush in the Shadows
INT. UNDERGROUND RENTAL CAR PARKING GARAGE — CONTINUOUS
Dark. Lower level. Kemp presses the fob. A Dodge Caravan
lights up.
CADE
You got a people carrier.
Fantastic.
KEMP
Shut it. It was cheap and it's pre-
loaded.
A MAN pops out from behind the minivan. Blacked-out
sunglasses. In a dark parking garage.
He waves as they approach — but Kemp's face tightens. The
hair on his neck stands up.
KEMP’s POV:
— WOOSH — time slows, tunnel vision — a hand exposed from
behind a concrete pillar — WOOSH — shifts — a foot on the
other side. Another person hiding terribly.
BACK TO SCENE
KEMP (CONT’D)
(smiling, whispering)
Slow down. These ent friends.
CADE
These? As in more than one? I only
see the one bloke. Do they all have
sunglasses on?
KEMP
Smile. Don't mooch.
Wide smiles. Overly friendly waves toward the man by the van.
CADE
Perfect trap. Fresh off the plane.
No weapons.
He looks at Zaz, then Kemp.
CADE (CONT’D)
Do we leg it — or do we scrap?
ZAZ
You know me. I love some good
ballistic therapy.
KEMP
Fight it is. Stay close. Follow my
lead.
Kemp bends to tie his shoe. Zaz starts to do the same.
KEMP (CONT’D)
(whispering, annoyed)
Stop, ya saft fucka. Why don't we
all tie our shoes together while
we're at it? That's not suspicious
at all.
ZAZ
You said follow your lead.
KEMP
(grunts, whispers)
Get back down here. More suspicious
if you stop. You knob.
ZAZ
You know what's suspicious? The
fucking sunglasses in the dark. I
wouldn't worry about us.
Kemp removes a sharp plastic blade from his shoe.
ZAZ (CONT’D)
I want one of those.
Kemp ignores him. Stands with a giant fake smile.
KEMP
Alright, you — you the tossa?
No answer. Closer. Thirty feet.
KEMP (CONT’D)
(louder)
The tossa — are you the tossa?
Ten feet.
MAN
(American, confused)
Uhhh... sure. I'm a tossa.
Four feet.
KEMP
Let me show you something, tossa.
He gestures Zaz and Cade to cover.Kneel behind a car.
SUDDENLY — Kemp pounces. Four quick thrusts to the groin —
femoral artery severed. A barrage of kidney strikes — renal
artery opened. BLOOD. All with a three-inch plastic blade.
Gently, he takes the dying man to the ground.
KEMP (CONT’D)
Well. Looks like your days of
tossin are over.
Shots from both sides. Kemp takes the man's gun.
KEMP’S POV:
Tunnel vision — a head pokes from behind a pillar — gun
extends — POP — one shot through the head.
BACK TO SCENE
Cold cobalt eyes.
CADE
One more, I think. Over there. Want
me to draw him out?
KEMP
Sure. These guys are shit shots.
Cade bolts for the next row. The last man steps out to fire —
BANG — Kemp beats him to it.
Zaz inspects the second dead man's handgun. Not a normal gun
— oversized, strange tech on the barrel. He shows Kemp.
ZAZ
Look. A fuckin Atomizer it is.
Dirty pool...
(In Welsh)
coc oens.
Kemp doesn't look shocked.
Cade examines the first man. Pale skin. Yellow eyes. Bald
head. He turns the head — a gruesome scar on the right
temple.
CADE
Somebody's science project.
ZAZ
(calling back)
This one too. Clones. Wankers!
KEMP
(to the dying man)
Who sent you?
The man's eyes glow yellow. Up close his pallid face is wrong
in ways that are hard to name.
KEMP (CONT’D)
Why find John Jones? Who is he?
MAN
You know why.
KEMP
What?... Who is your boss?
MAN
ENLIL sends his condolences.
Kemp's armor cracks. He closes his eyes. The world turns
slowly around him. Vertigo.
ZAZ
What did he say?
A long pause. Kemp still on one knee. Gathering himself.
KEMP
Nothing. Nonsense.
ZAZ
He said Enlil, he did.
KEMP
(pissed)
I fucking heard him. Leave it be.
Kemp scans the garage. His mind churning.
KEMP (CONT’D)
We need to go. Now.
Cade is putzing around looking at cars.
KEMP (CONT’D)
Cade! We're going. Game has
changed.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Weapons and Wits
INT. CARAVAN — CONTINUOUS
Kemp drives. Zaz and Cade’s faces from below. They looked
shocked.
John’s black trunk. It has a note on it. Followed by the the
same three Cuneiform symbols. Reads:
See you soon.
.
KEMP
Did they miss anything? Wasn't
cheap getting that delivered.
Zaz snatches the note - rushes to Kemp. Shoves it in front of
his face.
ZAZ
Look!
Kemp swerves because a note is in his face. He smacks Zaz’s
hand out of the way.
KEMP
Wanker. What is it?
ZAZ
He left a note.
KEMP
Who?
ZAZ
You know who.
Kemp’s face says it all. He knows. Cade is in the back going
through the trunk now. Guns and rifles.
CADE
He did this? Not bad taste.
Grabs a Beretta 82 handgun - cocks - bullet jumps from
chamber - catches it.
A beat. As Cade eyes the Baretta. Kemp stares out at the road
and with some wound woven into his words...
KEMP
He always puts so much care in his
choices.
Cade now studies the Atomizer. A big boxy handgun with a
blinking light. Ejects the mag — a blue plasma-like substance
churns and glows white. Zaz glances at it.
ZAZ
Get shot with that and your
Umbra... Bu farw.
CADE
What is boo fart?
Close on Zaz — looking utterly ridiculous in his cowboy hat.
In his best — and overall fucking horrible — American cowboy
accent:
ZAZ
BOO FAARWW... it means —
(dramatic pause)
You’re dead meat, partner.
Kemp hits the gas.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Sacrifice and Shadows
INT. JOHN'S CENTCOM — DAY
John at the console. French on screen. Behind her scientists
attach wires to a chimps head. A sense of urgency, controlled
chaos. She straightens the camera.
FRENCH
Hey.
JOHN
Kickoff time.
FRENCH
Ok. Ready here. Just final tune
ups is it. Enos is about to make
the trip. See?
She points at the chimp. She does not look confident.
John winces.
JOHN
Don’t want to know. We go when we
go.
John calms and leans in.
JOHN (CONT’D)
You are the most brilliant person
on this planet. I have faith in
you.
She blushes. Smiles.
FRENCH
Well, duh. Everyone knows that.
Still awkward a moment. Then she pulls it together.
FRENCH (CONT’D)
Alright.
JOHN
Alright.
French holds his look — it's love. John smiles back. One
moment that holds a deep bond. History. Ends call - a breath.
A moment. The face goes all business.
He goes ape shit.
Throws a computer at the floor — CRASH — parts scatter.
Motherboards — CRUNCH — under his heel. RAM chips — CRACK —
pulverized.
SMASH CUT:
Hard drives spin and spark in a microwave. Smoke.
Back in CENTCOM. Opens safe. Inside: a PHONE, USB DRIVE, a
gun that makes Bashmu look modest, a FOLDED PLASTIC SHEET,
and a SHINY BLACK PEBBLE.
He takes everything out. Puts all personal effects into the
safe. Places the pebble on his palm — it hovers an inch above
his hand, glows blue. He plucks it from mid-air. Returns it
to the safe. Closes the door.
Three seconds — a deafening THRUMMMM from inside the safe.
Three more — DING-DONG.
John peeks out the window. A woman at the door.
He opens flannel - checks Bashmu - opens the door —
His wife. Sara.
He doesn't move. Can't. The door just hangs open.
Ten thousand years. He has seen everything. He has not seen
this.
She looks at him. Waiting.
He steps forward and pulls her into a hug. Face buried in her
hair, eyes closed. Something in him stops fighting.
A long beat.
His eyes open slowly. He takes in the smell. His face
tightens.
He releases her.
SARA
(tone flat, rhythmic,
rote)
Hello. Come with me, John. We need
to go.
He hesitates. She takes his hand, leads him outside.
Toward a van parked 30 feet away.
He walks with her. Three steps toward the van. Four.
He stops.
SARA (CONT’D)
No time to explain. Come on.
JOHN
Fruity Pebbles.
SARA
What?
JOHN
You heard me. Fruity Pebbles.
SARA
I don't... understand. It's
dangerous here. Let's go.
John holds his ground.
JOHN
My Sara would know what that means.
You are not my Sara. You’re a
clone.
Her demeanor flattens. Robotic.
SARA
I am Sara. My umbra in a clone
vessel. Ambrose the Divine wants to
speak with you. Come.
John sighs,
JOHN
Ambrose the Divine? Listen to
yourself. I see you in there. Beth
— Beth is almost twenty. She's in a
band. You can see her play tonight.
She's amazing.
Sara's face is fighting. Surfacing.
John moves closer.
JOHN (CONT’D)
Yes. Stay with me. Stay with Beth.
We need you.
He holds out his hand. Her hand reaches for his — trembling.
He grabs it. Pulls her into a hug. She rests her head on his
shoulder.
JOHN (CONT’D)
(quiet)
I can help you. I've been working
on something — for you. We can fix
this.
In the periphery — eight COMMANDOS, decked out in black,
strapped with futuristic sleek black rifles, march from 30
yards. SCREECH — tires, off camera.
John disengages but keeps her hand. Sara looks at him, then
at the commandos. The clone veneer snaps back. She frees her
hand. Stares at John — flat, blank. Then signals the
commandoes. The commandoes march toward John.
John stares at Sara. He deflates as she turns toward the van.
He is about to go and get her when -
— BANG BANG — commandos open fire. Return fire off-screen.
Bullets WHIZ. Sara gets in van.
JOHN (CONT’D)
No!!!
KEMP appears — snatches John by the collar - hauls his ass
inside. ZAZ and CADE — still in cowboy hats — return fire.
Three Commandoes down. Before they slam the door closed. and
follow through the door. It slams.
They move to the back of the house for cover.
BAM — THUD — front door hits the ground. THUD THUD — boots
over smashed wood.
John draws Bashmu. Turns - earrape - BANG - A commando takes
.50 to chest flies across the room - THUNK - Dead.
Three commandoes remain. They scurry into the kitchen.
John holsters his gun and joins the posse in the back. Pulls
the plastic sheet- Shakes it out — He pulls it over hus head,
wears it. Kemp watches with a 'what the actual fuck' look.
Big smile.
KEMP
Expecting rain?
JOHN
What? No.
KEMP
Then what the fuck is that?
JOHN
French designed it. It's an Umbra-
Buster-Proof-Vest.
Zaz and Cade fire off shots. Commandoes pinned in. It gets
quiet. A waiting game.
KEMP
It’s a rainy day poncho, Enki.
John doesn't flinch at the name. Like it is his name. It is.
JOHN
Hey. French made it. She's
brilliant. Kind of like you, Zaz.
KEMP
Did she name it? Because that is a
fucking horrible name.
JOHN
No and it does what it says. NAme
it what?
ZAZ
The Blockade. The Protector. Umbra
Armor.I can keep going...
Zaz leans over. Studies the vest closely. He's arrived at a
verdict.
ZAZ (CONT’D)
(serious)
But, it's like a garbage bag, Enki.
You are wearing a garbage bag.
Cade cuts in - tips his cowboy hat.
CADE
Howdy, partner.
John shakes his head.
A moment.
Sounds in the kitchen. Kemp nods. Flanking gesture. They go.
The Kitchen - closed quarters - shots fly - Zaz fires to left
- Freeze on commando - has Zaz dead to rights - then John
unleashes Bashmu - earrape -- BOOM -- Commando vaults back --
CRUNCH -- his neck smacks the the granite counter, breaks his
neck, probably dead already.
-- BANG -- Kemp drops a commando. John clocks last one with
sights on Kemp - has Kemp dead to rights. No time -- John
jumps -- BANG
KEMP
Clear.
He turns- Close on Kemp’s face - shock then anger
On the floor... John bleeding out. He took the bullet. He
saved Kemp.
KEMP (CONT’D)
Bloody hell. The poncho isn't
bulletproof. Yampy fucka. You're
supposed to wear a bulletproof vest
too. Let's get you to a hospital.
JOHN
No. Not part of the plan.
KEMP
You and your fucking plans. Great
plan - die on the kitchen floor eh?
JOHN
I have The Bleed, I'm dying anyway.
But...
He smiles. Coughs. Makes eye contact. Zaz - shame on his
face.
JOHN (CONT’D)
She's alive, Kemp.
Kemp goes still. Turns to process.
JOHN (CONT’D)
Listen. Big City Pawn Shop. Be
there. Wait for me. Not quite done
with you yet.
A long pause. Slowly he removes Bashmu from the holster.
Holds it out to Kemp. Kemp looks at it. Looks at John.
He takes it. No words. John closes his eyes. Drifts off.
His green, wispy UMBRA flickers — phases in and out — as it
eases up through his chest. It rises.
Hovers near Kemp for a long moment — as if looking at him.
Kemp stares back. Doesn't breathe.
Then it darts up through the ceiling. Gone. Kemp looks down
at Bashmu in his hand.
END ACT III
ACT IV
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Echoes of the Past
INT. BLACK VAN — CONTINUOUS
Clone Sara drives. Face flat. Eyes ahead.
MEMORY HIT:
Blurry, desaturated — John and Sara in their old kitchen.
Sara is very pregnant, eating Fruity Pebbles by the handful.
John snatches the box. She goes after him. He throws a
handful at her. She laughs. Throws some back. She drops the
box and they kiss.
BACK TO SCENE
A tear runs down Sara's cheek. A short gasp, she fights it
off.
She picks up her phone. Finds Beth's social media page. “IRA
DEI 8pm TONIGHT AT THE HAMMER.” Beth’s face - Closer.
INT. THE HAMMER - CONTINUOUS
Beth on stage axe on her back. She smiles at DRUMS and BASS;
the window dressing guys. They are setting up equipment.
Beth’s presence overshadows these guys’ and they aren’t even
playing yet. Beth doesn’t know that, but it’s obvious. They
all laugh. The stage fades.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
The Retrieval Task
INT. BLACK VAN — DAY
Clone Sara cries a moment.
INT. UNDERGROUND BUNKER — FLASH
The same carved rock. The same overwhelming scale.
Ambrose reclines on the leather couch — phone in hand, face
lit by its glow. Unhurried.
In the background, the holographic Earth rotates on its
endless loop. The wormhole bores through it. Planet comes
apart. Resets. Wallpaper.
CLONE SARA stands. Waiting. Ambrose doesn't look up from his
phone.
AMBROSE
(to phone, RP British)
Bollocks. Every time. Blade to the
gooch.
He sets the phone down. Looks at Clone Sara. Bored.
AMBROSE (CONT’D)
I need something retrieved.
He holds her gaze.
AMBROSE (CONT’D)
John Jones.
She says nothing. Eyes flat.
AMBROSE (CONT’D)
And be a dear — don't damage him.
He is rather irreplaceable.
He picks up his phone. Back to his game.
Clone Sara turns and leaves without a word.
Ambrose watches her go. Something ancient moves behind his
eyes. He glances at the hologram — the planet splitting open
an eternal loop.
AMBROSE (CONT’D)
(to himself, quietly)
Ira dei. Wrath of God.
Laughter - all goes dark - sound fades.
BACK TO SCENE
INT. VAN - DAY
Sara wipes away tears. Mission locked in. She drives.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Awakening in the Bunker
INT. UNDERGROUND BUNKER — CORRIDOR
Dimly lit, granite covered walls A flickering light pulses
down a corridor - WOOSH — deeper into the bunker. A labyrinth
of tunnels — left, right, left — and through a door into a
dark room.
A line of INCUBATORS. Glass viewports lit from within.
Moving down the line — the first two contain clones of
Ambrose. All with the same cylindrical implant anchored in
the left parietal bone.
The third incubator demands more attention.
Different. Perfect. Radiant. Golden skin, topaz eyes — human
in form, but otherworldly in presence. Something ancient.
Bird's-eye view — the room is massive. Hundreds of occupied
pods. All awaiting animation.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
The Struggle Within
INT. FRENCH'S LAB — DAY
High-tech. Clean. A beautiful snowy mountain landscape
through floor-to-ceiling windows.
An incubator — closer — the foggy viewport — It's John.
Awaiting animation.
French at her console — brain waves and PET scan on the
display. She studies them intently. Whatever she sees, she
does not look worried. She should probably be worried.
EXT. HOSPITAL — DAY
An UMBRA floats 100 feet above a hospital. Moving toward it.
It darts at a patient's window and passes through.
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM — CONTINUOUS
A sick, unconscious young man — JACK SPENCER, 18 — lies in a
hospital bed. Bald. Deep dark circles of death around his
eyes.
The room is full of flowers and cards. Popular kid. Tacked to
the wall above his head: twenty pictures of him playing
baseball.
In one — Jack in a COLORADO ROCKIES UNIFORM, smiling like he
won the lottery. Caption: '2026 MLB DRAFT — JACK SPENCER, SS
— 1ST ROUND PICK — COLORADO ROCKIES.'
Jack opens his eyes. The Umbra hovers above him — HUMMING.
He reaches up. It phases in and out as it enters his head
like they were meant for each other. A green aura. But...
He convulses. Pinned on his back — eyes wide, head tilted up,
arms held down by nothing visible. Face flat. Contorting.
Then - dark circles disappear. Color rushes back. He sits up
— eyes glow green for a moment — then clear. He looks like
the kid in the pictures again.
Jack runs to the bathroom mirror. Back of gown barely covers
his ass. Vibrant, healthy face. He flexes his bicep. Wide
smile.
JOHN'S VOICE
Now, Jack. Lie down. Act sick.
Jack rushes back, barely in time. Closes his eyes. An
overweight NURSE enters. She clocks the cords on the floor.
NURSE
My sweet boy. Bad dreams?
Jack gives a fake groan. Rolls over. The nurse reconnects
him. Clocks his bicep. Sneaks a squeeze. Walks away.
NURSE (CONT’D)
(to herself, faint)
Oh honey, if you were just a few
years older. Oh my.
Door closes. Jack's eyebrows wrinkle.
JACK
(re: nurse)
Dude. I feel violated.
His body contorts. Face twitches. A different tone.
Springs up again, Struggles to bathroom again.
SUDDENLY— Jack’s right hand shoots up and SLAMS into the
mirror. CRACK.
JACK (CONT’D)
What the fuck?!
He tries to pull his hand back. He can’t. His fingers are
locked to the glass like iron. His reflection stares back,
but the face... shifts. The jaw sets. The eyes go cold,
ancient, and deeply annoyed.
ENKI'S VOICE
(Jack’s head strained)
Stop... resisting. The adrenaline
is flooding our synapses. You're
making the motor functions
sluggish.
Jack’s left hand grabs his right wrist, pulling frantically.
It's a brutal tug-of-war with his own skeleton.
JACK
Who’s ‘us’?! Am I stroking out?
Help! HELP!
Jack's mouth snaps shut. Teeth click together. Hard.
ENKI
(speaking through Jack's
mouth, voice deeper,
guttural)
Scream again, and I walk you out
the window.
Jack's body bucks, slams backward against the bathroom door.
He slides down to the tiles, hyperventilates. His mouth
opens, gasps for air. Jack reclaims his vocal cords.
JACK
Oh God. I’m dead. The chemo fried
my brain. You’re God. Look, I
cheated on Stacey once! And I did
steroids. Just once. I swear!
A violent twitch. Jack's head cracks back against the wood.
ENKI
(through Jack’s mouth)
I don't care about your steroids. I
care about the temporal lobe. Give
me the wheel. I need to get to a
bar called The Hammer.
Now. Another spasm. Jack fights back, adrenaline spiking. He
forces his left hand toward the emergency call cord hanging
by the toilet.
JACK
No! I’m staying right here. I’m
pressing the button.
His fingers graze the red cord. Enki freezes the arm. The
bicep bulges, shaking violently with the effort of two minds
fighting for one nerve cluster.
ENKI
(internal voice, colder,
dangerous)
Pull it. But know this: I am the
only reason your lungs aren't
filling with fluid right now. I
fixed the rot in your marrow.
(MORE)
ENKI (CONT’D)
If you hit that button, I leave
this vessel. The cancer returns
exactly as I found it.
Jack’s hand hovers over the cord. Trembling. The panic gives
way to a profound, terrifying realization. He feels the truth
of it in his bones. He feels the absence of the sickness.
JACK
(whispers)
What are you?
ENKI
(internal)
Something that can answer every
question you’ve ever had.
Jack swallows hard, eyes wide.
ENKI (CONT’D)
(internal)
You want to know why you are what
you are. You want to know what was
waiting for you in the dark? Get me
to The Hammer. Do exactly as I
say... and I’ll tell you the
secrets of the universe.
Silence in the bathroom. Only the sound of Jack's ragged
breaths. Slowly, the violent shaking stops. Jack lowers his
hand from the call cord.
JACK
(terrified but hooked)
Okay. Okay. But I need clothes. I
can't walk into a bar with my ass
hanging out.
A small, almost imperceptible nod from Jack's head—Enki
agreeing.
ENKI
(internal;)
Agreed. Put on the pants. And
hurry.
END ACT IV
TAG
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Awakening on the Moon
EXT. SPACE
The Moon approaches. Fast orbit around to its dark side --
which is not dark. NOW -- toward the surface. Artificial
structures. Some kind of base or station.
CLOSER -- a POWER STATION. 30 or so huge thin solar-panel
structures. Hundreds of poles with massive concave mirrors
reflect light onto the panels.
Follow 3-foot-diameter wires to a moon-dust-caked hatch.
Through the hatch and INTO THE MOON.
Something unmistakeable, insane takes shape. A moment.
The same truncated icosidodecahedron megastructure.
Translucent silver squares, hexagons, and decagons elegantly
fit together to form an exquisite shell. Light glints off its
glassy surfaces.
INSIDE - landscapes from a Yosemite postcard the squares and
hexagons. The decagons serve as viewports. It is an
ARBORETUM. Elegant geometry meets Eden. ABOVE -- GRASSY
PLAINS -- WHOOSH -- a 180 degree turn on ascension --THEN--
onto the plain -- Artificial gravity.
NOW -- Grasslands above, forest below, mountains to one side,
ocean to the other. Thousands of square miles. Horses. Long-
legged horses with elongated muzzles charge by. Wild tall
mustangs.
This is Eden. Untouched.
An object in the distance -- CLOSER -- it hovers a meter off
the ground -- It’s Big, green, and 5 meters tall.
IT BEATS, LIKE A HEART. IT IS ALIVE.
Close on the fleshy surface -- POP -- 2 green hands punch
through, grab and tear. UTU (M, alien), a green muscular
humanoid with cartilaginous spikes for hair emerges --
Amniotic goo oozes down his green skin. His eyes glow yellow.
He walks with purpose -- A hatch -- he enters A bright-white
futuristic SUBTERRANEAN CORRIDOR. The alien enters a small
CONTROL ROOM and sits at a lone white console.
The alien sighs, his human-like expressions show anxiety. He
presses on console.
VOICES
Utu, are you there... Utu, it's
been 4000 years... We need you
Utu... Utu help... Utu... Utu...
now 18,000 years... Utu... Utu...
Everything goes black. Echoes of
Utu... Utu... help us
Voices fade but linger. Short pause on black.
THEN--
JOHN (V.O.)
Utu, it’s Enki. Been too long old
friend.
END PILOT