INT. - IRANIAN CONTAINER SHIP - HOLD – MORNING
MAJOR AZLAN SHAKOOR (38), an Iranian IRGC officer in
tactical uniform, leans against a catwalk railing above the
hold. One boot rests on the lower rail, forearms draped
across the top—a posture of forced calm. His posture is
casual. One foot is resting on the bottom rail, his forearms
on the top rail.
Below, a BALLISTIC MISSILE lies horizontal on its launch
platform. Workers move with practiced urgency, prepping the
weapon.
As he watches workers release a fueling hose with a HISS.
Steam and vapors rise toward Shakoor.
CAPTAIN ROHAAN KAZEMI (30), identically dressed, approaches
along the catwalk.
Kazemi places a hand over his heart.
KAZEMI
Salam Alaikum.
Shakoor rubs his eyes, blinking away the sting.
SHAKOOR
And you as well, Brother.
Kazemi joins him along the rail.
SHAKOOR (cont'd)
These fumes give me a constant
headache.
Kazemi draws a deep breath.
KAZEMI
After forty days, I think I have
become accustomed to it.
Shakoor's gaze drifts toward the missile below.
SHAKOOR
I can't wait to see the sunshine
again.
Shakoor shrugs.
SHAKOOR (cont'd)
For however long that is.
Kazemi places a hand on Shakoor's shoulder.
KAZEMI
Don’t be so gloomy, my friend. This
will be a glorious day.
Shakoor straightens, turning to face him directly.
SHAKOOR
Glorious? We'll probably never see it
coming, Captain.
Kazemi raises both hands skyward, eyes lifted.
KAZEMI
Then we'll witness the outcome from
the Garden of Pleasure, with Allah.
Shakoor studies his companion.
SHAKOOR
Your faith deserves admiration. Allah
will favor you.
Shakoor returns to the rail, his earlier posture resumed.
SHAKOOR (cont'd)
Are we prepared?
KAZEMI
The other ships report they’re in
position.
SHAKOOR
Good. Notify launch control. Sync
with the others. All three must go
together.
Kazemi pulls a device from his pocket and walks away.
INTERCUT WITH:
DEVICE SCREEN
A purple interface flashes to life. Chinese
characters—"Wúxíng de"—appear. A light scans Kazemi's face.
The screen transitions to a prompt.
Kazemi types, in Farsi, with subtitles: Sync systems, launch
on schedule.
RETURN TO SCENE
SIRENS wail. EMERGENCY LIGHTS strobe red. Technicians
evacuate the launch bay.
The launch platform rises into position as blast doors grind
shut. Shakoor salutes the missile—a final gesture of
respect.
The doors CLUNK locked.
SOLDIER#1 (23), an Iranian enlisted man, approaches Shakoor.
SOLDIER#1
Praise be to Allah, Major.
Shakoor lowers his salute and faces the soldier.
The soldier nods toward the sealed blast door and extends
Shakoor's tactical vest.
SHAKOOR
I see you're eager for today.
SOLDIER#1
We all have our reasons for wanting
to face the Americans, Sir.
Shakoor glances back at the launch bay.
SHAKOOR
You'll get your opportunity. It won't
take them long to find us.
Shakoor, now fully geared, and the young soldier move from
the catwalk toward the gangway leading topside.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
The Intercept After Apogee
INT. NORAD MISSILE WARNING CENTER - CONTROL ROOM - DAY
The operations floor is controlled chaos.
Radar tracks race across screens.
SENIOR OFFICER
(into headset)
Cole, launch immediately.
INTERCUT WITH:
INT. USS COLE - CIC - DAY
TACTICAL OFFICER
Target solution confirmed.
COMMANDER
Fire.
EXT. USS COLE - DAY
An SM-3 interceptor ROARS skyward.
INT. NORAD MISSILE WARNING CENTER - DAY
The giant display shows two tracks.
One climbing toward space.
One racing to intercept.
TECH
Interceptor away.
TECH #2
Time to intercept...
He studies the numbers.
TECH #2 (cont'd)
Three seconds after apogee.
The room goes silent.
Everyone already knows.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
Ripple of Darkness
EXT. - HIGH ABOVE THE PACIFIC - DAY
A brilliant white burst flowers silently high above the
atmosphere.
Then —
An unnatural shimmering ripple spreads across the sky.
EXT. - SAN FRANCISCO - GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE - DAY
Traffic flows across the Golden Gate Bridge.
The strange light washes overhead.
Instantly-
Cars DIE.
Dashboards go black.
Traffic lights fail.
A CITY BUS coasts powerless into an intersection.
TRANSFORMERS explode in blue flashes across the skyline.
A COMMERCIAL AIRLINER above the bay dips lower suddenly.
People stop and stare upward.
Phones go dead in their hands.
The city sound shifts.
Engines fade.
Sirens die.
Confused HORNS replace them.
CUT TO BLACK.
Series Title: Dawning Darkness - Prodigals
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Morning Wrestling and a Phone Call
INT. - MICHAEL RAYDON HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY
INTERCUT - CELL PHONE ON AN END TABLE
The screen says "Mom Raydon"
The phone's ringtone CHIRPS.
RETURN TO SCENE
ANNE RAYDON (36) enters the living room where two 5-year-old
twin boys wrestle on the floor.
ANNE
Take it outside.
She picks up the phone.
ANNE (cont'd)
(to the boys)
Shhh. Grandma Raydon's calling.
Outside. Now.
The boys scramble out as Anne answers.
ANNE (cont'd)
Mom, good morning. Charles picked up
an extra shift at the prison.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Aurora's Warning
INT. - CARL RAYDON RANCH HOUSE - MORNING
Gospel music plays in the background. A microwave HUMS O.S.
ELLA RAYDON (65), dressed in a 3/4-sleeve cotton blouse,
jean skirt, and cowboy boots, holds the phone.
ELLA
That's fine, honey. I'm working on
the Thanksgiving list. Were you
planning to bring that dressing?
Static crackles. The music stops. The microwave cuts out.
Silence.
CARL RAYDON (67), in jeans and a denim work shirt, sits on
the porch with coffee and a magazine. A shimmering aurora-
like light catches his eye in the sky.
Carl sets down his magazine and stands at the porch rail,
watching.
CARL
Well now. That's kind of strange.
ELLA (O.S.)
Carl! My record player and the
microwave stopped. The call with Anne
dropped.
Carl remains fixed on the sky.
CARL
Might be a breaker. You'll just have
to call Anne back.
Carl enters the house and crosses the kitchen to his HAM
RADIO ROOM—a Faraday cage lined with wire mesh. He begins
flipping breakers, resetting each one.
CARL (cont'd)
Kitchen lights on now?
ELLA
Still out, Carl.
As flips another breaker the radio crackles.
RADIO#1 (V.O.)
This is K7—any station—two light
general aviation aircraft
down—repeat—multiple aircraft—Spokane
Tower not responding.
RADIO#2 (V.O.)
Confirmed loss of power across
multiple counties. No comms with
Seattle Center.
Carl closes the breaker box and pulls up a chair next to the
radio.
Ella appears in the doorway.
ELLA (O.S.)
Microwave's still not working. Was it
a breaker?
CARL
Ain’t a breaker.
Carl adjusts the radio dial.
RADIO#1
“Downstream of the Coulee Dam. High
water flows expected-
The signal garbles
RADIO#1 (cont'd)
-attempting to close overflow valves
locked open by a power outage.
Carl turns the dial again
RADIO#2
Fire over in Spokane County. Twelve
miles north on 291. Transformer
explosion, I think. Can't reach 911.
Ella steps closer.
CARL
The Grid's down.
ELLA
That man said there was a fire near where Michael and Terri
live—by the airport. Why don't you call Michael?
Carl tries his phone. No signal.
CARL
Cell's dead.
Ella holds her phone up, searching for a signal.
ELLA
Maybe later. Towers might just be
overloaded.
CARL
I wouldn't count on cell service
coming back anytime soon.
Carl stands and scans the shelves.
ELLA
What are you looking for?
CARL
A U.S. map. I've got one somewhere.
He searches with purpose.
ELLA
What do you need a map for?
CARL
That aurora I saw. I think we just
had a major solar flare.
Carl moves quickly through the shelves.
ELLA
Carl, slow down.
CARL
If it's widespread, we need to know
how bad. I want to map the outage.
Ella moves next to Carl and places a hand on his arm.
ELLA
Just because we can't see what's
going on, doesn’t mean God’s blind to
it. The world's in his hands today
just as it was yesterday.
Carl glances his wife and takes a step back.
CARL
You’re right about that.
He takes his wife’s hands.
CARL (cont'd)
If it is a flare, kids know how to
handle things.
Carl takes another step away from the shelves and kisses
Ella on the cheek.
ELLA
You listen to your radio and check on
things. Phone service will likely be
back on tonight then we can call the
kids.
Carl turns the chair toward him and sits. Then takes his
wife's hands.
CARL
This would be a good time to ask the
Lord to take an extra look in on
them.
Genres:
["Drama","Sci-Fi"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
No Signal
INT. - CHARLES RAYDON'S HOUSE – LIVING ROOM - DAY
ANNE stares at her dead phone.
She taps a few times and holds the phone to her ear.
Nothing.
Not even a ring.
Outside, a distant SIREN WAILS.
Then another.
Then several more.
She puts the phone on the end table.
INTERCUT - PHONE SCREEN
The cell phone screen says "Husband - No Signal"
RETURN TO SCENE
Anne steps onto the porch.
Above the treeline, in the direction of the prison,
emergency sirens rise and fall without stopping.
Her face tightens.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Red Alert Breakdown
INT. - WALLA WALLA STATE PENITENTIARY – CELL BLOCK – DAY
Emergency lights cast everything in red.
CORRECTIONS OFFICERS shove inmates toward a housing unit.
CHARLES RAYDON (45) wearing a prison guard uniform helps
force a heavy security gate closed.
OFFICER #1
Control, lock Bravo!
A BUZZER sounds.
Nothing happens.
The gate slides halfway shut.
Stops.
Then slowly rolls back open.
The inmates notice.
Murmurs spread.
Then shouting.
An ALARM begins to SCREAM.
OFFICER #2
Control's down! Control's down!
The mood shifts as prisoners surge forward.
Charles grabs an inmate and shoves him back.
CHARLES
Back in your cells! Move!
Nobody listens.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Crisis Call
INT. - CHARLES RAYDON'S HOUSE – LIVING ROOM - DAY
Anne twists the dial on a police scanner.
STATIC.
DISPATCHER (V.O.)
Any available units respond to the
penitentiary.
STATIC.
PRISON OFFICER (V.O.)
We have multiple security failures.
Repeat, multiple security failures.
STATIC.
DISPATCHER (V.O.)
Negative. County resources are
committed.
Anne freezes.
DISPATCHER (V.O.) (cont'd)
Small aircraft down near the airport.
Multiple structure fires.
State Patrol has freeway closures.
Medical response requests are pending
countywide.
STATIC.
PRISON OFFICER (V.O.)
We need assistance now.
DISPATCHER (V.O.)
Copy. Stand by.
A long burst of static.
Then:
DISPATCHER (V.O.) (cont'd)
No units available. Handle with on-
site personnel.
Anne turns from the scanner.
ANNE
Boys! Grab your jackets
JOSEPH RAYDON (10) AND LEVI RAYDON (10) run in from outside
Anne digs in the closet and pulls out a backpack med kit and
tosses it over her shoulder.
LEVI
Where are you going?
ANNE
Stay put! I'm going to get your dad.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Close Pass
INT. - SH-60 SEAHAWK - DAY
A NAVY SEAL sits near the open door.
The ocean races beneath them.
Ahead, the Iranian freighter plows through the swells.
Another helicopter, a BLACKHAWK gunship, flies formation off
their port side.
The SEAL checks his gloves.
Checks the fast rope.
Then looks up.
An F-16 screams overhead.
So close the Seahawk rocks in its wake.
The fighter flashes toward the freighter.
EXT. - IRANIAN FREIGHTER - CONTINUOUS
SHAKOOR and KAZEMI look up.
The fighter roars over the ship.
Nothing.
Just noise.
Crewmen point skyward.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Strike and Descent
INT. - SH-60 SEAHAWK - CONTINUOUS
The SEAL watches the fighter disappear.
A second F-16 streaks into view.
This one doesn't pull away.
A missile drops free.
EXT. - IRANIAN FREIGHTER - CONTINUOUS
The missile slams into the bridge.
A FIREBALL erupts.
Glass and steel rain across the deck.
The ship lurches.
Iranians dive for cover.
INT. - SH-60 SEAHAWK - CONTINUOUS
SEAL Team leader signals for the helo to drop lower
The Seahawk dips to the nap of the Earth.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Assault on the Freighter
EXT. - IRANIAN FREIGHTER - CONTINUOUS
The BLACKHAWK rises above the bow.
Its miniguns spin.
BRRRRRRTTTT!
Tracer rounds rip across the forward deck.
Men scatter.
Weapons clatter onto steel.
The Blackhawk streaks overhead.
To the starboard of the ship, the Seahawk rises from below
the rail.
Suddenly there.
Hovering only feet above the deck.
Rotor wash blasts loose equipment across the steel plating.
The fast rope drops.
INT. - SH-60 SEAHAWK - CONTINUOUS
The SEAL swings out the door.
Slides.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Storming the Freighter
EXT. - IRANIAN FREIGHTER - CONTINUOUS
His boots hit steel.
Other SEALS land around him.
Weapons up.
Moving.
A wounded Iranian reaches for a rifle.
Two shots.
The man drops.
The team advances.
Ahead, surviving crewmen scramble between containers and
deck equipment.
A short burst of gunfire.
Then silence.
The SEAL rounds a storage locker.
An IRANIAN OFFICER sits slumped against the bulkhead.
Blood stains his trousers.
Dazed.
The officer looks up.
Shakoor and the SEAL lock eyes.
Shakoor tries to raise his weapon.
The SEAL drives forward.
The rifle butt crashes into Shakoor's temple.
CRACK.
Shakoor collapses.
The SEAL drops a knee onto his back and secures his wrists.
SEAL TEAM LEADER (O.S.)
Package secure!
The world spins.
Rotor wash.
Shouting.
The deck blurs.
Darkness closes in.
CUT TO BLACK.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Code Red on the Mercy
INT. - USN MERCY HOSPITAL SHIP - CORRIDOR - DAY
The THUMP of helicopter rotors.
Blurred sunlight flashes across SHAKOOR'S half-open eyes as
he is rushed across the flight deck on a gurney.
Voices overlap around him.
NAVY CORPSMAN #1 (O.S.)
Watch the left side. He's still
bleeding through.
A mask covers part of Shakoor’s face. Oxygen hisses.
The deck tilts slightly beneath him as the gurney wheels
CLATTER across metal seams.
SHAKOOR'S POV — fragmented glimpses:
— Sailors clearing the path.
— Red stained bandages wrapped around his lower torso.
— A helicopter lifting off overhead.
NAVY DOCTOR (O.S.)
Pupils are uneven.
A penlight FLASHES painfully into Shakoor’s eyes.
NAVY DOCTOR (O.S.) (cont'd)
Possible concussion. Get him
downstairs now.
Shakoor tries to focus.
Shapes smear together above him beneath harsh fluorescent
lights as he is pushed through narrow passageways inside the
ship.
The SOUND changes.
Rotors fade.
Now:
voices
boots
metal doors
machinery hum.
NAVY CORPSMAN #2
BP’s dropping.
NAVY DOCTOR
How much morphine has he had?
NAVY CORPSMAN #1
Five milligrams during extraction.
The gurney turns sharply.
Shakoor GRIMACES as pain cuts through the haze.
NAVY DOCTOR
We have multiple shrapnel entries,
both legs. Let's get a closer look.
A pair of gloved hands cut away part of Shakoor’s blood-
soaked uniform.
NAVY DOCTOR (cont'd)
Room Two is ready.
Another light flashes into his eyes.
NAVY DOCTOR (cont'd)
Major... can you hear me?
Shakoor barely manages to focus on the doctor's face.
NAVY DOCTOR (cont'd)
Stay with us.
The ceiling lights streak overhead rhythmically as the
gurney rolls faster.
NAVY CORPSMAN #2
Oxygen saturation falling.
NAVY DOCTOR
Alright. Put him under.
A mask lowers over Shakoor’s face.
NAVY DOCTOR (cont'd)
Deep breaths.
The sounds around him begin to distort.
Light fades.
Darkness.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Smoke on the Horizon
EXT. - COUNTY ROAD OUTSIDE SPOKANE – MORNING
SUPERIMPOSE:
SPOKANE WASHINGTON - 1 HOUR POST DETONATION
A flatbed truck loaded with hay sits dead on the shoulder.
The hood is up.
MICHAEL RAYDON(47) wearing a blue work shirt and jeans with
work boots and a baseball cap, leans over the engine.
HUDSON RAYDON (13) wearing a camo t-shirt, jean, sneaker,
and a baseball cap sits on the front bumper.
HUDSON
Maybe it's the battery.
MICHAEL
Battery's fine.
HUDSON
Fuel pump?
MICHAEL
Maybe.
HUDSON
Alternator?
MICHAEL
Do you even know what an alternator
is?
Hudson suddenly points.
HUDSON
Dad.
Michael looks up.
A thick column of black smoke rises into the sky several
miles away.
Too much smoke for a brush fire.
The wind pushes it steadily east.
Toward them.
Michael studies it.
MICHAEL
Wind's pushing it toward us.
His expression changes.
HUDSON
That's a big fire, Dad.
Michael pulls out his phone.
NO SIGNAL.
He tries again.
Nothing.
HUDSON (cont'd)
Mom?
Michael doesn't answer immediately.
MICHAEL
No signal.
He looks at the truck.
The hay.
The smoke.
Then back toward home.
The calculation is fast.
MICHAEL (cont'd)
We're done hauling hay today.
HUDSON
What?
MICHAEL
We shouldn't be around when it
reaches here.
Michael closes the hood.
HUDSON
What do we do?
MICHAEL
We get off this road.
Michael grabs the two water bottles from the truck console.
HUDSON
What about the truck?
MICHAEL
It's insured.
He starts walking.
Hudson hurries after him.
HUDSON
Where are we going?
MICHAEL
Nearest farm.
HUDSON
Then what?
Michael glances toward the smoke.
MICHAEL
Then we find a way to get back to
your mom.
Genres:
["Action","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
In the Quiet Aftermath
INT. - BELLINGHAM GENERAL HOSPITAL – PATIENT ROOM – DAY
SUPERIMPOSE:
BELLINGHAM GENERAL HOSPITAL - 8 HOURS POST DETONATION
The room is quiet.
No monitor alarms.
No machine noise.
Only silence.
BETH WILSON (78) lies peacefully in the hospital bed.
A sheet has been pulled to her chest.
THOMAS RAYDON (45), dressed in slacks and a dress shirt with
sleeves rolled up, stands beside the bed.
FAITH RAYDON (43) sits nearby holding Beth's hand.
Thomas and Faith are on one side of the bed. On the other
side a nurse is removing the wires that connected Beth to
monitors
A tired NURSE enters carrying a clipboard.
NURSE
Are you Pastor Thomas?
Thomas turns.
NURSE (cont'd)
There's a family a few rooms down.
The father isn't expected to make it
much longer.
Thomas nods.
NURSE (cont'd)
They asked if someone could pray with
them.
Thomas glances at Faith.
She gives him a small nod.
THOMAS
Of course.
Thomas squeezes Faith's shoulder and exits with the nurse.
Faith looks down at Beth.
The nurse reaches over Beth for a monitor leads.
FAITH
May I help?
The nurse smiles and nods.
FAITH (cont'd)
Beth taught Sunday School for thirty
years. My twins loved her Bible
stories.
Faith gently begins removing the adhesive monitor pads.
The nurse offers a grateful smile and joins her.
NURSE
Thank you.
A beat as they work.
FAITH
You've had a hard day?
The nurse gives a tired laugh.
NURSE
Today? Yes.
Faith looks up.
The nurse shakes her head.
NURSE (cont'd)
First was a man on bypass when the
power failed.
Eleven more after that.
The nurse stands and stretches her back.
NURSE (cont'd)
More to come I'm afraid.
Faith carefully coils a lead wire.
FAITH
The generators finally quit?
NURSE
No one thought we would need this
much fuel.
They continue working.
NURSE (cont'd)
No computers. No imaging. Half the
pharmacy is locked behind electronic
systems we can't access.
Faith gently folds Beth's hands together.
FAITH
Other hospitals? Vancouver?
NURSE
Ambulances stopped running this
morning.
The nurse pulls the blanket higher.
FAITH
How's your family?
NURSE
Dad's home with them. We have a
cabin. We might go there.
She looks around acknowledging her responsibilities there.
NURSE (cont'd)
Maybe.
NURSE (cont'd)
You and the pastor have family?
FAITH
Almost a hundred brothers and
sisters. Like Beth. They need what
Thomas can provide.
A distant cry echoes from the hallway. The nurse looks at
the door.
FAITH (cont'd)
Go help. I'll sit here with Beth.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
The Pentagon in the Dark
INT. - PENTAGON - COL. ANDERSON’S OFFICE – NIGHT
SUPERIMPOSE:
PENTAGON - 14 HOURS POST DETONATION
COLONEL ANDERSON (58), in Class A uniform, no jacket,
sleeves pulled up, tie loose. He rubs his eyes, stretches,
and looks again at the map CAPTAIN MILLER (32) has taped to
the LARGE DEAD TV screen.
Anderson SMACKS the map with the back of his hand.
ANDERSON
Forty to sixty percent?
Miller is STARTLED and takes a step back.
MILLER
That number may change once we get
fuel assessments and availability
reports.
Anderson picks up a written report from his desk and SLAPS
it against the officer's chest.
ANDERSON
You're telling me the most powerful
military in the world can't get more
than half its hardware into the fight
because the rest will be waiting in
line at the gas station?
MILLER
Civilian infrastructure does power
most of our fuel stations, Sir.
Anderson FLOPS into his swivel chair, puts his hands over
his face and draws a DEEP BREATH.
ANDERSON
Just when will we have more accurate
reporting, Captain?
MILLER
Well, communication is very difficult
right now but I-
Anderson stands up and leans on his desk toward the officer.
Fists balled on the desktop.
ANDERSON
Those responsible for the attack this
morning aren't having a difficult
time communicating, Captain. (beat)
In fact, I’m sure they're talking
about how we’re sitting ducks for
whatever comes next.
Anderson walks around the desk and stands next to Miller and
pokes at his chest.
ANDERSON (cont'd)
Find a way to talk to our bases. Tell
them to get me more specific data
about what we can or cannot stand up.
Miller is visibly nervous and takes an involuntary step
back.
Anderson steps into Miller’s personal space. Pokes a finger
into the Captain’s ribs.
ANDERSON (cont'd)
Commandeer any industrial satellites
that are operational, find HAM
operators who are near our bases. Run
string and old bean cans if you have
to. (beat) I need good information.
Where's the contingent planning
report?
MILLER
General Stark's office forwarded an
updated continuity assessment an hour
ago.
Miller shuffles through the reports on Anderson's desk and
pulls out a binder.
MILLER (cont'd)
His modeling team projected regional
fuel disruptions within twelve hours
of a nationwide grid failure.
MILLER flips through the binder notes.
MILLER (cont'd)
Food distribution breakdown inside
seventy-two hours. Civil unrest
shortly after.
Anderson exhales through his nose.
ANDERSON
Stark's EMP study.
MILLER
Yes, Sir.
ANDERSON
I sat through that briefing three
years ago.
MILLER
His projections are tracking
surprisingly close to current
reporting.
Anderson leans back in his chair.
ANDERSON
Of course they are.
A beat.
ANDERSON (cont'd)
The man spends his entire career
imagining ways civilization can go to
crap.
MILLER
Sir?
ANDERSON
Stark's a planner. Every problem has
a chart, a projection, and a
contingency package.
Anderson gestures toward the dark city outside.
ANDERSON (cont'd)
Most of the time he's preparing for
things that never happen.
A beat.
ANDERSON (cont'd)
This time they did.
Anderson shakes his head reluctantly.
ANDERSON (cont'd)
I'll give him this. Nobody in uniform
has spent more time thinking about
what an EMP would do to this country.
MILLER
Should I request his latest
assessment?
ANDERSON
Absolutely.
After all, we're living in his damn
scenario now.
The captain exits. LIEUTENANT VANCE strides in, folder in
hand.
VANCE
Sir, I have information about the
Iranian officer recovered from the
vessel.
Anderson settles into his chair
ANDERSON
Let’s have it.
Vance drops the folder on the desk.
VANCE
According to the CIA, he is Major
Azlan Shakoor, Quds Force for the
past six years.
Anderson pulls a page from the dossier
ANDERSON
Attended USC? He's a Trojan?
VANCE
Engineering degree. Top of his class.
His father was killed during his
senior year—Israeli strike on
Hezbollah. He went home and enlisted
with the Quds Force.
Anderson flips through pages as Vance continues.
VANCE (cont'd)
The inventory list is there, sir.
Apart from standard tactical gear, we
found an encrypted comm device. Tech
at Buckley's been analyzing it.
ANDERSON
And?
VANCE
Nothing unique about the app itself.
The device is clean—no stored data.
Either cloud-based or server-farm
dependent. They're tracking the
developer now, but preliminary
assessment suggests domestic origin.
Anderson holds up a photograph of the device. Chinese
characters glow on the screen.
ANDERSON
What’s the translation?
VANCE
Invisible.
ANDERSON
Clever.
Anderson reaches for another photograph.
ANDERSON (cont'd)
This is interesting.
He studies a photo of Shakoor with another man at a café,
then flips it over to read the notation on back.
ANDERSON (cont'd)
This is from Egypt?
VANCE
Yes, sir. The other man is high-
ranking North Korean. Three were in-
country at the time.
(MORE)
VANCE (cont'd)
CIA's best guess is Kim Min-
jun—Cultural Attaché cover, but he
runs arms deals for the DPRK.
Anderson sets the photo down.
ANDERSON
Shakoor's at Buckley now?
Vance flips through pages and stops on a medical report.
VANCE
Treated for shrapnel lacerations and
a concussion aboard the Mercy.
Arrived under sedation at Buckley at
1900 hours.
Anderson lifts the photograph again. The overhead lights
flicker. He lowers it, eyes tracking to the ceiling.
He turns his chair toward the window. Outside: darkness.
Only scattered lights remain across DC.
ANDERSON
DC goes dark by morning.
Anderson turns back to Vance
ANDERSON (cont'd)
Finish getting the unit packed. I
want the shop operational at Buckley
by breakfast.
VANCE
Yes, Sir.
ANDERSON
And Vance—there's a Major I worked
with in Jalalabad. Quds Force
operatives are true believers, but
I've seen him break them. He's at
Lewis-McChord. Get Aaron Styles to
Buckley.
Genres:
["Action","Military","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Broken Promises
INT. MAJOR STYLES BASE HOUSING - BEDROOM - NIGHT
SUPERIMPOSE:
MAJOR AARON STYLES - 17 HOURS POST DETONATION
Styles packs with practiced efficiency.
Rebecca watches from the bed.
REBECCA
I don't want you to go.
STYLES
You know I have to.
A beat.
REBECCA
You promised me a year.
Styles stops packing.
REBECCA (cont'd)
One year without deployments. One
year where we could be normal.
STYLES
I know.
REBECCA
Do you?
She gestures toward the hallway.
REBECCA (cont'd)
This morning we were arguing about
paint colors.
STYLES
Becca—
REBECCA
No. We were talking about making the
guest room a nursery.
A beat.
He knows.
REBECCA (cont'd)
For the first time since I've known
you, I thought maybe we were finally
building something that wasn't
temporary.
STYLES
I'm trying to keep you safe.
REBECCA
I know.
That catches him.
Because it's not an accusation.
It's resignation.
REBECCA (cont'd)
That's the worst part.
A heavy military truck RUMBLES into the driveway.
Styles closes his duffel.
STYLES
Go to Moscow. Tonight.
REBECCA
Your parent's place? And then what?
STYLES
I come get you when this is over.
REBECCA
You said that about Jalalabad.
A beat.
REBECCA (cont'd)
You said that about Syria.
The truck engine IDLES outside.
Styles looks at her.
No defense left.
STYLES
Please.
Rebecca nods once.
Not because she agrees.
Because she already knows he's leaving.
Styles grabs his bag and exits.
The front door closes.
Silence.
Rebecca takes the flashlight and walks into the guest room.
She sweeps the beam across the empty space.
The plywood table.
The paint swatches.
Two shades of blue.
Two shades of pink.
The flashlight trembles slightly in her hand.
She turns it off.
Moonlight fills the room.
Genres:
["Drama","Military","Romance"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
The Wait in Darkness
INT. - MICHAEL RAYDON’S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT
SUPERIMPOSE:
MICHAEL RAYDON'S HOUSE - 18 HOURS POST DETONATION
A camping lantern casts jittery shadows across the granite
island. Outside the window: absolute darkness.
Michael stands at the sink, stirring tea. He's not watching
the cup. He's watching the room's reflection in the glass.
TERRI (44) enters. She is wearing pajamas and a robe. She
wraps her arms around Michael’s waist, leaning her head
against his shoulder.
TERRI
The boys are down. Under a blanket
like a tent. They think it’s an
adventure.
MICHAEL
Adventure's about to get dangerous I
think.
TERRI
It does have a very not normal feel
to it. How bad do you think it might
get? Coffee-shortage bad? Or Katrina
bad?
Michael stops stirring. He turns to face her directly.
MICHAEL
Could get Turkey bad.
Color drains from Terri’s face. She releases him and steps
back.
TERRI
Turkey? (a beat) Michael, we had an
Embassy in Turkey to run to and C-130
to fly us out. We don't have that
here.
MICHAEL
No Embassy, but a ranch. No plane,
but I've got a big truck.
Terri lets out a slow, shaky breath. The civilian mask
drops. She shifts into the logistics operator he met in the
oil fields.
TERRI
If we walk away from Turkey-level
bad, we risk losing everything. The
rigs, the contracts, the house.
MICHAEL
If the power stays out, and people
get desperate, those rigs are just
scrap metal. If we stay here, we’re
sitting ducks.
TERRI
(Nodding, calculating) The boys. Two
bags each. Winter stuff. If we have
to stay long, it gets cold there.
I’ll prep the medical kit—the real
one. Not the CVS stuff.
Terri turns to begin her prep.
MICHAEL
I'll go to the yard tomorrow. If the
old tanker turns over, I’m bringing
it back here to load the heavy gear
and the fuel drums.
A rapid POP-POP-POP echoes from a few blocks away. It’s
followed by a distant, metallic CRASH.
TERRI
(Deadpan) Perimeter watch?
MICHAEL
Go. Get three hours of sleep. I’ll
wake you for the second shift.
Terri cups his face, kisses him hard, and disappears toward
the bedrooms.
Michael walks to the front hall closet and reaches for the
top shelf. He pulls down a worn leather gun belt.
He draws his PISTOL, locks the slide back to check the
chamber—the metallic SNAP echoing in the quiet—and holsters
it.
He drags a kitchen chair to the front window and sits in
darkness, the holstered weapon resting on his thigh, eyes
locked on the street.
He isn't waiting for the lights to come back on. He’s
waiting for the first person to try the door.
Genres:
["Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
The Asset's Return
INT. - BUCKLEY SPACE FORCE BASE – HANGAR – NIGHT
SUPERIMPOSE:
BUCKLEY SPACE FORCE BASE - 22 HOURS POST DETONATION
The hangar thrums with desperate activity. Soldiers run
cable like arteries across concrete. Humvee engines roar.
The air reeks of JP-8 fuel and ozone.
STYLES moves with purpose, matching Anderson's brisk pace.
ANDERSON
We stayed at the Pentagon just long
enough to get initial assessments. DC
will be a graveyard by Tuesday.
They duck into a makeshift conference room—plywood walls
thrown up in a corner. The roar of the hangar drops to a
dull thrum.
CAPTAIN BARNES (30), sharp and unblinking, snaps to
attention. She slides a dossier onto the table.
ANDERSON (cont'd)
Major Azlan Shakoor. You'll like
this, a USC Trojan.
Anderson pushes the dossier toward Styles
ANDERSON (cont'd)
Engineering degree. Smart fellow.
Styles reaches for the dossier but stops as his fingers
touch the folder.
STYLES
Why me Colonel? You said I had a
year.
ANDERSON
Look around, Aaron. No one expected
this.
STYLES
Becca took you at your word, Sir.
This is costly.
ANDERSON
Major, right now it's all hands on
deck. You're here because you're the
asset I need for this job.
Styles straightens a bit.
STYLES
Understood, Sir.
Styles pulls a photo from the dossier of comm-link. The
photo shows the boot-screen of the device
STYLES (cont'd)
Wúxíng de (Translating instinctively)
"Invisible."
ANDERSON
Your Chinese is solid. An encryption
app. Made by a local software company
in the Seattle area. NSA's rounding
up the dev team. They likely didn't
know what actual purpose.
STYLES
Which is?
ANDERSON
It's just the endpoint. Nothing
stored on the device. Whatever they
communicate is encrypted on a server
farm somewhere.
Styles holds up the photo of Shakoor in his hospital bed. He
is sleeping.
STYLES
Is he conscious?
ANDERSON
Out cold since a sailor clubbed him
on the deck.
STYLES
Keep him under. I want him to wake up
in a windowless room with no clock.
(MORE)
STYLES (cont'd)
I want him to think he’s been out for
a week and his "Invisible" network
moved on without him.
ANDERSON
We don’t have a week, Aaron.
STYLES
I don't need a week. He just needs to
believe his martyrdom became a
footnote.
Anderson nods, appreciative of the cold logic. He gestures
to Captain Barnes.
ANDERSON
Captain Barnes has a roster of Tier
One assets. Most of our high-
readiness units were off-shore when
the grid blew so they're available.
Barnes hands Styles a notebook
BARNES
The 1st Delta is currently forward-
deployed in the Philippines. We've
ordered them to stay put. Multiple
SEAL teams are deployed throughout
the South China Sea. They can be
consolidated.
ANDERSON
Pick your team. She’ll find a way to
get you to them.
Anderson turns to the door, but Styles stays planted.
STYLES
Colonel. My wife's on the road.
Heading for Moscow, Idaho. Could
someone check if she made it?
Anderson’s expression softens, but his eyes remain tactical.
ANDERSON
We’re already tracking the families
of our primary team, Aaron. We'll
gather them up. Secure location. I
need you all mission-centered right
now. I can’t have you staring at a
map of Idaho when you should be
staring at the enemy. Give Barnes the
info. We’ll handle it.
STYLES
(A beat) Thank you, Sir.
Anderson exits. The roar of the hangar floods back in as the
door opens, then vanishes as it clicks shut.
The door opens and two airmen carry in a 4X8 SHEET OF
PLYWOOD. Pinned to it: a map of the Pacific theater. Barnes
points. They set it down and leave.
The map has PUSH PINS marking the location of every
operational SpecOPs team. US Air fields that can handle
heavy cargo craft are circled. Allied air fields that can
offer logistical support are circled.
BARNES
(pointing at spots as she goes)
Delta - SEAL - DEVGRU. We have a
detachment of the 75th Rangers here.
STYLES
My old unit.
BARNES
I understand that, Sir. Red circles,
heavy lift assets, green, logistical
support.
Styles opens the notebook and begins flipping pages. He
picks up a thick blue marker and circles a SEAL unit pin.
The SQUEAK of the felt-tip on paper is loud in the small
room.
STYLES
Get them.
MATCH CUT TO:
Genres:
["Action","Military","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Fading Signals
INT. - RAYDON RANCH – RADIO ROOM – DAY
SUPERIMPOSE:
RAYDON RANCH - 23 HOURS POST DETONATION
The same SQUEAK of a marker on paper.
Carl stands in front of a plywood board with a U.S. map
stapled to it leans against some shelving.
He slashes a HEAVY RED "X" over a mountain pass in the
Cascades.
The radio on the desk beside him crackles with the inaudible
voices then static.
Carl wipes his eyes and looks closely at a spot on the map.
He yanks a pin out.
CARL
Dang… that’s not where Nellis Air
Force Base is.
He jabs the pin in at a different location in Nevada.
Carl picks up the paper-towel roll, it's empty. He tosses it
in the trash.
He looks at the map.
Carl steps out of the radio room and into the kitchen.
The kitchen is quiet, save for the rhythmic tick of a
battery-operated wall clock. Sunlight begins to bleed
through the window, gray and weak.
Ella sits at the heavy oak table. A well-worn Bible is open
before her. Beside it, a single cup of coffee steam rises in
a thin ribbon.
Carl enters from the radio room, moving with a restless,
jagged energy. He slows his pace, trying to be quiet, but
his boots scuff the linoleum.
ELLA
(Without looking up) I hear you
sliding across the floor, Carl.
CARL
Just going for a wet rag. Got some
erasing to do on the board.
He reaches for the sink, but his back hitches. He lets out a
SHARP GRUNT, hand flying to his lumbar.
ELLA
That’s what you get for sleeping in a
swivel chair all night.
Carl exhales and sinks onto the bench behind the table. He
looks across the table at the Bible—Psalms.
CARL
Well, there wasn't much actual
sleeping involved.
He stretches the ache from his back
CARL (cont'd)
But, the picture's filling and it
ain't looking good. The HAM operators
are starting to drop off as the fuel
for the generators runs out. We'll be
blind before long.
ELLA
(Softly) Is it really that bad, Carl?
CARL
Not yet. But it's a steep hill and
we’re headed down it. It’s going to
get worse.
Ella reaches across the table. Her hand is steady as she
covers his.
ELLA
I was just reading chapter seventeen.
“Keep me as the apple of your eye;
hide me in the shadow of your wings.”
Carl looks at her hand, then at the page. The "Hunter" in
him softens. He taps the verse with a rough finger.
CARL
Well then. That’s exactly what we
need to ask the good Lord to do. Keep
those kids of ours under His wings.
ELLA
Every minute of every day. Until
they’re through that door.
CARL
Michael and Terri will see this for
what it is. I expect we'll see them
first.
ELLA
I'll start getting things ready soon
as I'm done here.
Carl stands, but he lingers for a second, his palm resting
flat on the open Word. It’s a moment of surrender.
CARL
Until then... if you wouldn’t mind
asking Jesus to keep the airwaves
open just a bit longer? I’ve still
got some recon to do.
He starts back toward the radio room, his step a little
lighter. He stops abruptly, turns, and grabs a fresh roll of
paper towels from the counter.
CARL (cont'd)
Almost forgot. I'm empty in there.
He heads back into his "command center," leaving Ella in the
quiet light of the kitchen.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
The Extraction
INT. - CJ'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
SUPERIMPOSE:
CJ RAYDON'S APARTMENT - 25 HOURS POST DETONATION
A modern upscale apartment. Bellevue and Seattle beyond the
windows.
The room is clean, stylish, and reflects the young urban
professionals who rent there.
Phones, tablets, and dead laptops litter the kitchen island.
Outside, distant sirens occasionally echo through the city.
CJ RAYDON (28) stands near the window staring down at the
parking lot below.
JOANNA (26) sits beside RICKY (27) at the kitchen table.
Ricky quietly plays solitaire.
Joanna watches over his shoulder.
She points at a card.
Ricky moves it.
A moment later she points at another.
Ricky sighs and offers her the deck.
She shakes her head.
No smile.
No humor.
Across the room, CHASE (26) thumbs through a graphic novel.
He lifts his phone.
CHASE
Still nothing.
CJ keeps watching outside.
Below, cars clog intersections where traffic lights no
longer function.
Several people stand in the parking lot holding phones
toward the sky.
Searching.
Waiting.
CJ
The fix is going to take a while.
CHASE
You know that how?
CJ
Because this isn't just Seattle.
That gets everyone's attention.
CJ continues watching the city.
CJ (cont'd)
Phones are down. Internet's down.
Radio's mostly dead. Whatever
happened, it wasn't local.
CHASE
How big?
CJ shrugs.
CJ
Hard to tell without communication.
Doesn't matter much right now. The
result's the same.
FRANK (58), gray-haired, relaxed, observant, sits in an
armchair beside the dark television.
A whetstone rests in his lap.
He slowly draws his hunting knife across it.
FRANK
Smartest thing anybody's said all
day.
Chase rolls his eyes.
CHASE
So what? We just sit around waiting
for the apocalypse?
FRANK
No. You wait and see if the lights
come back on. If they don't, then you
start asking harder questions.
CJ finally turns from the window.
CJ
If it goes on long, maybe we head for
my dad's place.
JOANNA
The ranch?
CJ nods.
CJ
Doesn't get much safer than my dad's
house.
Frank studies him.
FRANK
Your dad was Corps, right?
CJ
Long time ago.
FRANK nods.
FRANK
Then he's probably reading this
situation faster than most.
No one replies.
Outside, a siren abruptly dies.
The silence that follows seems louder.
Then—
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Everyone in the room freezes.
Frank reaches into his waistband and pulls his pistol. He
holds it casually at his side.
CJ
Who's there?
Another knock.
MP#1 (O.S.)
Military Police from Lewis-McChord.
Is there a Richard Alred here?
The group all look at Ricky.
CJ
What do you want?
Another knock, more instant.
MP#1 (O.S.)
Are you Mister Alred?
CJ draws his concealed pistol.
He directs Frank to the hinge side of the door.
He moves to the other side taking Joanna with him, behind
him.
CJ
I'll answer that question as soon as
you answer mine. What do you want?
Ricky shrugs at CJ and takes a steps toward the door.
RICKY
Uh, I'm Richard, uh, Ricky. What do
you want?
MP#1 (O.S.)
Would you open the door, please Sir?
CJ
The door stays shut until we know why
you're here.
MP#1 (O.S.)
Under the door.
An envelope slides under the door.
Joanna picks it up and hands it to Ricky.
Ricky pulls the letter out and reads it.
RICKY
It’s legit.
Ricky passes the paper to CJ.
RICKY (cont'd)
Apparently the encryption project
I’ve been working on is involved in
whatever is going on. The NSA needs
to meet with me.
CJ
Are you guys with the NSA?
MP#1 (O.S.)
No Sir, we're MPs from the base. We
have orders to escort Mr. Alred.
CJ
We'd like to see some ID under the
door?
The group looks down as a military ID card pokes out from
under the door.
Joanna bends, looks, then stands and nods to the others.
CJ hands the letter back to Ricky and nods at Joanna.
She opens the door.
Standing on the other side are three MPs. Two of them have
side-arms drawn.
Inside the apartment, both Frank and CJ have their weapons
drawn.
FRANK
Well, this just got awkward.
The MP looks at Ricky holding the letter.
MP#1
(looking at Ricky)
Are you Mr. Alred?
RICKY
Yes.
The MP waves the weapons down. Frank and CJ lower theirs.
RICKY (cont'd)
I’m not sure I understand. Where am I
going?
MP#1
Don't know, Sir. We just have orders
to transport you safely to the base.
RICKY
My friends?
MP#1
Our orders are just you, Mr. Alred.
We can give you a few minutes to pack
some things.
Ricky looks at the others.
CJ
Look, if you can help out with
whatever is going on then you should
go. We'll be here when you get back.
Ricky takes a step toward the door.
RICKY
My place is two doors down. I'll pack
a bag.
Joanna gives Ricky a hug and kiss on the cheek. And he
follows the MPs away.
CJ steps out of the door and watches them leave.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Restrained Recovery
INT. - BUCKLEY SPACE FORCE MEDICAL CENTER - SECURE ROOM –
NIGHT
SUPERIMPOSE:
BUCKLEY SPACE FORCE BASE - MEDBAY - DAY 1 + 4 HOURS POST
DETONATION
A windowless military room dressed as a hospital room.
Functional. Cold.
Shakoor lies in bed.
His arms cuffed to the rails.
He has a Bandaged forehead.
One eye is bruised.
He is covered from the chest down.
A few wires are attached to him that go up into the ceiling
to an exterior room.
Genres:
["Action","Military","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Flash of Light
INT. - BUCKLEY SPACE FORCE MEDICAL CENTER - OBSERVATION
ROOM - NIGHT
Styles and a TECHNICIAN are in the exterior room watching
through a one-way glass.
STYLES
He just woke up?
TECHNICIAN
Yes, Sir. He's been out since
capture. Slight concussion. Not
serious. Fragment wounds to lower
torso.
STYLES
Has anyone spoken with him?
TECHNICIAN
No one.
STYLES
Good. I want him to think we're in no
panic.
Anderson enters the room and stands in front of the
observation window.
The technician moves away and tends his monitors.
Styles nods to the technician.
The Technician presses a door release, CLICK.
Styles enters holding a thin folder.
STYLES (cont'd)
Major Shakoor. CIA says you speak
English.
(beat)
Couple years at USC I understand. I’m
a Cornhusker myself, but I won’t hold
that against you.
Shakoor stares at Styles.
He is having a hard time focusing.
Styles stands over him, blocking the overhead light.
For Shakoor, a flash of light.
Genres:
["Action","Military","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
The Interrogation
EXT. - IRANIAN SHIP - DAY
From SHAKOOR'S POV the American soldier is standing over
him.
The sun is blocked out.
BACK TO SCENE
Shakoor works moisture into his
mouth.
SHAKOOR
My men?
Styles studies him.
Styles picks up a cup with a straw.
He offers Shakoor a drink.
STYLES
Well now, that’s a real shame.
Shakoor sips the drink.
STYLES (cont'd)
Seems you were the only one left
after our guys finished up on the
boat.
A faint satisfaction crosses SHAKOOR ’s face.
SHAKOOR
Good.
(beat)
Allah is already rewarding them.
STYLES opens the folder.
STYLES
I wouldn’t know anything about that.
He lays out photos of Shakoor dead soldiers
STYLES (cont'd)
From what I gather there wasn’t much
left to reward.
Shakoor’s jaw tightens and he strains against the
restraints.
Styles places down a photo of Kazemi.
STYLES (cont'd)
Take this one, for instance. Had to
identify him through DNA.
(beat)
Clearly, as you can see, there wasn’t
much left.
Shakoor jerks against the restraints
Styles notices.
STYLES (cont'd)
Oh, a friend of yours? Shame.
Shakoor raises up in his bed as far as he can to get closer
to Styles.
SHAKOOR
He was greater man than you will ever
be.
Styles shrugs.
STYLES
You could be right about that.
Styles gathers the photos.
STYLES (cont'd)
Enough talk about college and good
friends though. (beat) Let's get down
to business.
Styles pulls a stool beside the bed and sits, casual, one
foot on the rail.
STYLES (cont'd)
Details about the missile, we got
from info on the boat. I only need
you to confirm a few things.
Shakoor relaxes into the bed and turns his head away from
Styles.
SHAKOOR
I have no intention of confirming
anything.
Styles pokes at Shakoor's chest with the folder of pictures.
STYLES
There’s intention...
(MORE)
STYLES (cont'd)
(beat)
And then there’s the reality of you
being in this room.
Shakoor continues to look away.
STYLES (cont'd)
We know the missiles were North
Korean. (beat) Did you get them
directly or through a middleman?
Shakoor turns his head toward the ceiling and focuses on the
tiles.
Styles pulls 4 pictures from the folder.
STYLES (cont'd)
Our CIA friends had you with
Ambassador Ghorbani’s security detail
in Cairo. May 2019.
He shows a photo of Shakoor with someone at a cafe.
STYLES (cont'd)
The Egyptians had you pegged as mid-
level security. (beat) So it was
strange seeing you at a café with a
senior North Korean official. That's
a heavy lift for a mid-level guy.
SHAKOOR
I don’t recall any such meeting.
Styles holds the photo where Shakoor can see it.
STYLES
I know the picture is a little fuzzy,
but that is you, isn't it?
Styles holds the photo in front of Shakoor and taps it.
STYLES (cont'd)
Prompt any memories?
Shakoor remains motionless, staring straight up.
STYLES (cont'd)
This guy with his back to the camera.
We know he’s North Korean, but we
don’t have an ID.
Styles lays out three photos.
STYLES (cont'd)
We know of three North Koreans who
were in Egypt at the time.
Styles holds the first photo in front of Shakoor.
STYLES (cont'd)
Paek Nam-sun. He’s my pick. Right
size I think.
Shakoor shows no reaction.
Styles holds up the second photo.
STYLES (cont'd)
But my boss thinks it's Kim Min-jun.
(beat) Says the fancy watch is a dead
give away.
Shakoor's eyes quickly flick to the photo.
It’s a tiny movement, almost nothing.
Styles catches it but doesn't react.
Styles hold up the third picture.
STYLES (cont'd)
My buddy, Sam likes this guy, Jang
Soo-jin. He thinks the hair gives him
away.
Shakoor shows no reaction.
Styles lays the three photos across Shakoor's bed.
Styles lean back.
STYLES (cont'd)
So, settle the argument for us,
Major. Who were having lunch with?
Shakoor says nothing.
Styles waits a moment then collects the photos.
Styles places them back into the folder.
Styles pulls a small, evidence-bagged device from his
pocket.
STYLES (cont'd)
We are curious about this. Our tech
guys are making progress.
(MORE)
STYLES (cont'd)
You wouldn't care to help us out by
logging in would you.
Shakoor lays motionless.
STYLES (cont'd)
No? Clever name, "Invisible". (beat)
Well, not for long. Soon as our guys
break it your invisible friends will
be very visible then rounded up and
we put an end to little stunt.
Styles holds the device toward Shakoor.
STYLES (cont'd)
Help us, help yourself. Your choice.
Shakoor ignores Styles
STYLES (cont'd)
I can see you’re not ready yet.
He stands and starts for the door.
STYLES (cont'd)
I guess you must still be exhausted
from that pitiful attempt at war
fighting.
Shakoor turns his head.
SHAKOOR
My soldiers died showing what cowards
Americans are.
Styles stops.
He turns.
Styles steps closer to Shakoor and leans in next to
Shakoor's ear.
STYLES
(quietly)
Your men died because you led them
into a suicide mission.
(beat)
Then a handful of Navy SEALs tore
through them while you were lying on
the deck sunbathing.
Styles straights up.
STYLES (cont'd)
And for what? So you could knock out
a few power stations. (beat) You
wasted their lives, Major. Now you
get to think about that in an
American prison for the rest of your
life.
STYLES turns toward the exit.
Shakoor lifts his head.
SHAKOOR
Was I unconscious for a day?
STYLES
Almost three. That sailor gave you a
real good whack. Cracked the skull.
Doctors had to keep you out until the
swelling went down.
Shakoor allows a small smile.
SHAKOOR
Then my mission was successful.
STYLES
If your mission was to knock a few TV
stations off the air, sure. Great
job.
Styles exits. CLICK. The heavy door locks.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Military"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
The Smirk Confirms the Second Phase
INT. - BUCKLEY SPACE FORCE MEDICAL CENTER - OBSERVATION
ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Styles enters. The TECHNICIAN is already leaning into a
monitor, rewinding a video feed.
TECHNICIAN
Pulse spiked when you mentioned the
Kim-jun and the show him the device.
Respiration hitched. But the eye-
flick earlier? That was the lock.
It’s Kim Min-jun.
ANDERSON
Is that enough?
STYLES
It’s a place to start pulling.
A KNOCK at the door. CAPTAIN BARNES enters, face tight,
holding a data pad that shouldn't be working—it’s tethered
to a bulky, external battery.
BARNES
Colonel. We’re getting reports.
Attacks on civilian relief sites.
Four so far. L.A., Portland, Miami,
and Boston.
Styles turns back to the observation window. Shakoor is
staring at the ceiling, the smirk back on his face.
STYLES
(Voice low) He knew.
ANDERSON
Knew what, Aaron?
STYLES
He was counting the hours. I told him
he’d been out for three days. He knew
I was lying.
Styles points through the glass at the prisoner.
STYLES (cont'd)
He was smiling because the second
phase was scheduled for today. He
knew I didn't mention the relief
sites because I didn't know they'd
been hit yet.
ANDERSON
God help us.
STYLES
Panic. They want to create panic in
the big cities and start a stampede.
Mass confusion and suspicion. We need
to find Min-jun, Colonel. Now.
Styles looks at Barnes.
STYLES (cont'd)
Tell me that transport is ready.
We’re going to the Philippines.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Military"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
The Bullseye
INT. - RAYDON RANCH - RADIO ROOM - NIGHT
SUPERIMPOSE:
RAYDON RANCH - DAY 1 + 5 HOURS POST DETONATION
Shadows dance on the plywood map as Carl hunches over the
radio. The green glow of hanging camp lantern is the only
light in the room.
RADIO #3 (V.O.)
(Breaking through static) —medicine
distribution point south of downtown.
It was a massacre, Carl. They waited
until the line was two blocks long.
CARL
KJ7RAY here. Confirming location. Was
that the VA clinic or the Harborview
relief site?
RADIO #3 (V.O.)
Harborview. (A shaky breath) They’re
targeting the help. People just
wanted their insulin. Now the streets
are... it’s a stampede.
Another voice, thin and terrified, bleeds through the
frequency.
RADIO #4 (V.O.)
I’m in the U-District. I can see the
smoke. They’re saying it was a
secondary device. They wait for the
first responders, then—
STATIC crashes like a wave. The signal dies.
Carl slowly leans back. His face looks ten years older in
the dim light.
CARL
(A whisper) Dear Lord...
He feels a presence behind him. ELLA is standing in the
doorway, her hands twisted in her apron. She heard.
ELLA
Carl? That clinic... isn't that three
blocks from CJ’s apartment?
Carl doesn’t answer. He can’t. He looks at the WALL MAP.
The BLUE PUSH-PIN with the tag labeled "CJ" sits right in
the center of the chaos. In Carl’s mind, that pin isn't just
a marker anymore; it’s a bullseye.
RADIO #4 (V.O.)
(Coming back through the hiss) If
you’re listening... don't go to the
hand-outs. Stay inside. If the bombs
don't get you, the panic will.
Seattle is eating itself alive.
Carl reaches out and touches the "CJ" pin.
CARL
I know him. He’s going to step right
into the middle of it.
ELLA
Then you tell him not to. You get him
on that radio and find somebody close
to him.
CARL
(Voice cracking) I can't get through,
Ella. I'm shouting into a graveyard.
Carl stands up. The "Shepherd" is gone. The "Guardian" is
back. He looks at the map, then steps into the kitchen and
yanks his truck keys from hook.
Ella follows him to the back door.
ELLA
Carl Raydon, you put those back. You
aren't going anywhere.
Ella steps next to Carl and touches his face before burying
her head in his chest.
ELLA
I want you to go, I do. I want you to
drive to CJ's and yank him out of
that awful place. But you can't. We
can't risk two. Wait till Michael is
here then figure a plan. That's what
you said you'd do.
Carl stops, head hanging, then hangs the keys back on the
hook.
He wraps his arms around Ella.
CARL
Junior's got a good head. As much as
that college tried to make him
citified, he knows how to survive
when it gets tough.
Ella lightly sobs into his chest.
CARL
Michael will be here soon. Then the
others.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Five Gallons
EXT. - RAYDON TRUCKING COMPANY - SUPPLY YARD - DAY
SUPERIMPOSE:
MICHAEL RAYDON'S TRUCK YARD - DAY 1 + 6 HOURS POST
DETONATION
A chain-link gate stands open.
The sign above the gate reads "Raydon Trucking".
The sun is just beginning its descent to the west.
Michael's old fuel truck rumbles heavily in the yard,
headlights cutting through the drifting smoke that hangs
over Spokane.
The truck is old.
Mechanical.
Built before everything relied on computers.
A portable fuel pump CHATTERS beside an underground storage
tank.
Michael stands on the truck catwalk watching the fuel gauge
slowly climb.
Nearby, a lowboy trailer is loaded with two mud-covered
UTVs, fuel cans, toolboxes, coolers, duffel bags, and
plastic storage bins strapped down in haste.
The distant southern skyline glows orange from a fire no one
can put out.
Smoke rises slowly into the darkness.
Michael glances toward movement outside the fence.
Three LOCAL MEN stand near the open gate watching the truck.
Watching the fuel.
One of them slowly starts walking closer.
MICHAEL
Can I help you?
The man keeps approaching casually.
LOCAL MAN
Just wondering if you're selling any
fuel.
Michael studies them.
Their eyes keep drifting toward the trailer.
The truck.
The fuel hose.
MICHAEL
There's a 5 gallon diesel can I left
by the shed. You're welcome to it.
The man stops a little closer than comfortable.
LOCAL MAN
Five gallons won't run my genny for
long and city's running dry.
Michael calmly reaches beneath his jacket and pulls a
pistol.
Not threatening.
Not dramatic.
Just visible.
Michael rests one hand on the weapon while standing above
them on the catwalk.
The diesel engine rumbles loudly beneath him.
For a moment nobody moves.
MICHAEL
You are welcome to the five gallons,
friend. But that's all I can do for
you.
Then one of the other men mutters quietly.
The group exchanges looks.
Calculating.
Deciding this probably isn't worth dying over.
LOCAL MAN
Alright. I'm obliged.
The man picks up the diesel can and The group slowly backs
away from the gate.
Michael watches until they disappear.
Only then does he look back at the fuel gauge.
The pump suddenly CLUNKS loudly.
Empty.
Michael shuts it off and disconnects the hose.
He scans the dark street one more time.
Then climbs into the truck cab.
The heavy diesel growls as he pulls out through the open
gate and disappears into the streets.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
Leaving the Locked Door
INT. - MICHAEL RAYDON'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY
Terri moves quickly through the house.
Duffel bags and suitcases sit near the front door.
HUDSON (13) carries blankets downstairs.
Outside, the DIESEL ENGINE rumbles loudly as Michael pulls
the truck in front of the house.
Terri looks out the window.
The glow from distant fires reflects faintly off the clouds.
The front door opens.
Michael steps inside smelling of diesel fuel and smoke.
TERRI
Truck still runs?
MICHAEL
Better than most of the cars in town.
He kisses her quickly then scans the room.
MICHAEL (cont'd)
You boys ready?
HUDSON
Mostly.
Michael notices the cache of guns leaning against the wall
beside packed bags.
MICHAEL
Good thinking.
Terri shrugs slightly.
TERRI
We've ridden in these rodeos before.
Terri picks up a suitcase and squeezes through the door.
TERRI (cont'd)
How bad is it?
MICHAEL
Some are getting nervous. Others
still think the power’s coming back.
That'll change soon.
A distant SIREN echoes somewhere across Spokane.
Evan appears at the top of the stairs carrying a blanket.
EVAN
How long are we staying at Grandma's?
Terri brushes hair from his forehead.
TERRI
I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe a
while.
Evan thinks hard about that.
Then suddenly turns and runs back upstairs.
Michael and Terri exchange a quick confused look.
A moment later Evan comes hurrying back carrying three
children's books against his chest.
EVAN
Grandma likes reading these to me at
bedtime.
MICHAEL
Good thinking, buddy.
Terri’s expression breaks slightly. She gently pushes Evan
toward the truck.
TERRI
Get in the truck with your brother.
They step outside carrying the remaining items.
Michael shuts the door and starts to lock it with his keys.
Then puts them back in his pocket and turns toward Terri.
MICHAEL
Not much point.
Terri puts a hand on the door. Not as sentiment but
evaluation.
TERRI
No. Won't take much to kick it in.
May as well leave it unlocked. Kept
us safe though.
MICHAEL
Right now, the only safe place in
going to be my dad's house.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Orders and Shadows
INT. - BUCKLEY SPACE FORCE BASE - WAR ROOM - NIGHT
Superimpose
BUCKLEY SPACE FORCE BASE - DAY 1 + 12 HOURS
An Air Force Security Force soldier snaps the heavy door
open.
STYLES enters. The room is a cavern of flickering blue
light. Dozens of monitors display a symphony of violence:
grainy body-cam feeds of soldiers in high-intensity urban
combat, and silent thermal drone footage of missiles
tracking toward targets.
Across the room, a drone-view shows a barracks building in a
desert compound. BOOM. The thermal image whites out as the
building disintegrates.
ANDERSON
I hope Major Shakoor got everything
he wanted out of his bedroom. Because
it isn't there anymore.
Anderson spots Styles and gestures him over, away from the
hum of the technicians.
STYLES
Our losses?
ANDERSON
A Strike Eagle went down over the
Gulf; Israelis fished the pilot out.
We lost two Rangers when we hit the
Quds Force compound outside Tehran.
But we’re hitting the high-value
targets now. We have the initiative.
Anderson grabs a hard-copy report from a table—one of the
few physical documents in the room—and hands it to Styles.
ANDERSON (CONT'D)
Update on Min-jun. Intelligence has
him in Hong Kong or Macau. We have
assets on the ground narrowing the
window.
STYLES
Chinese soil. That’s a diplomatic
minefield, Colonel.
Anderson nods toward the wall of monitors, where another
Iranian fuel depot goes up in a mushroom cloud of black
smoke.
ANDERSON
Look at the board, Aaron. We’ve been
leveling IRGC infrastructure for
eight hours. Aside from the usual
screaming on X and threats of UN
sanctions, the world is standing off.
They’re watching.
STYLES
So, you think we just go in and take
him and the Chinese are just going to
standby?
ANDERSON
They know we’re hurt, but they don’t
know how bad.
Anderson points at the screen as another missile hits a
target.
They see us doing that and they
decide they aren't ready to poke a
bear this pissed off.
(MORE)
ANDERSON (cont'd)
We aren't asking Beijing for
permission. We’re just going.
Anderson places a hand on Styles’ shoulder. The transition
from "Planner" to "Commander" is complete.
ANDERSON (CONT'D)
Captain Barnes is calling your team
to Clark Air Base in the Philippines.
By the time you land, we’ll have a
firm X on the map and the intel you
need to breach.
STYLES
Roger that, Sir.
Anderson offers a hand. A firm, old-school grip between two
men who know the world they grew up in is burning.
ANDERSON
Good hunting, Aaron. Bring him back
in one piece. We need to know where
this started.
Styles nods once, then turns and exits.
Anderson watches him go.
Around him, the war room continues its relentless rhythm.
A drone feed flashes white as another target disappears
beneath a missile strike.
A CHEER rises from one corner of the room.
Someone claps another analyst on the shoulder.
Anderson doesn't join them.
His eyes remain on the screens.
Iran.
The Gulf.
Satellite feeds.
Burning fuel depots.
Another cheer erupts.
Anderson kneels beside his chair and pulls a worn folder
from his briefcase.
Across the cover:
INTERCUT
FOLDER WITH CIA SEAL
"TOP SECRET"
"REJECTED - INSUFFICIENT CORROBORATION"
RETURN TO SCENE
He hesitates.
Then opens it.
The first page bears a bold heading:
STAGE ONE: COORDINATED EMP ATTACK
Below it, a map of the United States.
Three large overlapping circles.
One centered in the Pacific off the coast of California.
One in the Atlantic off the coast of Virginia.
One in the Gulf of Mexico of the coast of New Orleans.
Anderson studies it.
His expression unreadable.
A third cheer rolls through the room.
Louder than the others.
A target of particular importance has just been destroyed.
Anderson closes the folder.
Slides it back into the briefcase.
Locks the clasp.
Genres:
["Action","Military","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
The Grim Watch
EXT. - RAYDON RANCH - FRONT PORCH - NIGHT
SUPERIMPOSE:
RAYDON RANCH - DAY 1 + 18 HOURS
A full moon sits high in the sky, cold and indifferent. It
casts deep, ink-blue shadows across the valley.
There is no porch light. No distant glow from the highway.
No hum of transformers or distant tires on asphalt. The
silence is heavy—a physical weight.
The front door creaks open. CARL steps onto the porch. He’s
wearing an old canvas coat over his shoulders. He walks to
the railing, his boots loud on the wood, and stares down the
long, empty throat of the ranch driveway.
Behind him, ELLA appears in the doorway. She stays in the
threshold, her silhouette framed by the flickering amber
light of a kerosene lamp inside. She doesn't speak. She
knows the look on his back.
The CB radio on the hall table crackles, the sound bleeding
out onto the porch.
CB VOICE (V.O.)
(Thick with static) ...if anyone can
hear this... we’re at the mile
marker... we could use some help...
please...
The voice is small. It sounds like it’s coming from another
planet.
Carl’s face hardens. Not with panic, but with a grim,
settled understanding. The "Wait and See" part of the night
is over.
CARL
(Whispering) Time to get them home.
He doesn't turn back toward the warmth of the house. He
keeps his eyes locked on the dark horizon, watching the spot
where the road meets the sky.
The wind whips up, cold and sharp, stirring a ghost of dust
along the driveway. The silver moonlight catches the dust,
turning it into a shimmering, ethereal veil before it
vanishes back into the black.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
Red Glow Briefing
INT. - BUCKLEY SPACE FORCE BASE - MILITARY TRANSPORT - NIGHT
SUPERIMPOSE:
C-130 TRANSPORT - DAY 1 + 22 HOURS
The steady, bone-deep DRONE of engines fills the hull. The
interior is bathed in a tactical red glow.
Rows of seats line the dim cargo hold. Most of the operators
are slumped over, asleep or pretending to be, their gear
secured in the netting like hibernating predators.
CAPTAIN BARNES sits with a tablet balanced on her knee, the
screen light reflecting in her sharp eyes. STYLES sits
across from her, nursing a cup of bitter military coffee.
BARNES
You ever been to the Philippines?
STYLES
A few times. Passing through. Usually
on the way to somewhere I wasn’t
supposed to be.
Barnes zooms in on a surveillance image of MIN-JUN.
BARNES
I grew up in places like it. Navy
brat. Single mom. We moved every
couple of years. Japan. Sicily.
Bahrain. Norfolk twice.
STYLES
That explains the luggage.
Barnes glances at her perfectly organized pack beneath the
seat. Every strap is tucked. Every zipper is locked.
BARNES
I learned to travel light. You don’t
get attached to things that won't fit
in a locker.
STYLES
Your mother must be proud.
BARNES
She thought I was going to be a
doctor. Or a lawyer. Something with a
window and a fixed address.
STYLES
Instead, you chose insomnia and
classified briefings.
BARNES
Graduated near the top of my class.
The Army figured that meant I
belonged in a windowless room reading
satellite traffic.
(MORE)
BARNES (cont'd)
Turns out, I’m good at finding people
who don't want to be found.
The aircraft vibrates through a pocket of turbulence. An
AIRMAN moves down the aisle, bracing himself against the
seats. He stops beside Styles and hands him a manila packet.
Across the cover: UPDATED TARGET INTELLIGENCE.
Styles tears it open. Inside: grainy surveillance photos,
thermal satellite imagery, and hand-drawn building
schematics. Barnes leans in, her shoulder nearly touching
his.
STYLES
Looks like we found him. Macau.
He slides over a photograph: Min-jun entering a gated, high-
walled compound.
BARNES
Consulate's here.
(She zooms outward)
Macau International is less than five
miles southeast.
Styles leans closer.
BARNES (cont'd)
Only two vehicle access roads to the
airfield. One bridge. One service
road.
STYLES
Meaning if we make it to the airport,
there's only two places someone can
stop us.
Barnes nods and zooms farther out.
BARNES
Nearest PLA garrison is here. Zhuhai.
Response time, best case, thirty
minutes. And, that's assuming they
are already rolling.
Styles studies the map.
STYLES
So we grab him, get across the
bridge, and get airborne before local
law enforcement can lock the place
down.
Barnes shakes her head.
BARNES
Not a concern here.
Styles looks up.
BARNES (cont'd)
Macau is semi-autonomous but the
consulate is firmly Chinese soil.
Local police won't insert themselves.
They'll wait for the military and do
what they say.
Styles considers it.
BARNES (cont'd)
You'll have the thirty minutes you
need.
A faint smile crosses Styles' face.
STYLES
Then this is just a timing problem.
He points at the airport.
STYLES (cont'd)
We don't need to fight the Chinese
military. We just need to be gone
before they arrive.
BARNES
That's a lot more achievable.
STYLES
Now get me those utility tunnels and
building access points.
Barnes allows a smile.
BARNES
Already requested.
Styles nods.
Exactly what he expected.
Genres:
["Military","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
The Silent Order
EXT. - CHINESE CONSULATE MACAU - NIGHT
SUPERIMPOSE:
CHINESE CONSULATE - MACAU - DAY 2
A masterpiece of modern diplomacy in glass and steel,
overlooking the neon-soaked Macau waterfront. A glass
skybridge hangs like a jewel between the administrative wing
and the private quarters.
Inside the guest wing, the atmosphere is heavy with silent
authority. TWO ARMED SECURITY MEN sit outside a hallway
door. Another stands by the elevator. No chatter. Just the
hum of a high-end HVAC system.
INT. - CHINESE CONSULATE - VIP SUITE - NIGHT
Muted television coverage fills the room.
Seattle burns.
Crowds run.
Emergency vehicles choke city streets.
KIM MIN-JUN sits alone in an upholstered chair.
The room is comfortable.
Diplomatic.
Tasteful.
Nothing extravagant.
Three SECURITY MEN occupy positions around the room.
Silent.
Alert.
Min-jun watches the television.
No satisfaction.
No celebration.
Only observation.
On screen:
A REPORTER stands amid chaos.
REPORTER (V.O.)
Authorities are urging residents to
remain calm as shortages continue to
spread across multiple states—
A soft CHIME.
Min-jun looks down.
The encrypted communications device.
INTERCUT
COMMUNICATION DEVICE SCREEN: "WELL DONE".
Min-jun reads it and swipes it away.
Another message immediately follows.
COMMUNICATION DEVICE SCREEN: THE COMMITTEE HAS AUTHORIZED
PHASE THREE. PROCEED.
Min-jun sits motionless for a moment.
Then types:
ACKNOWLEDGED.
He presses SEND.
The device goes dark.
RETURN TO SCENE
One of the bodyguards glances toward him.
BODYGUARD
Mandarin subtitled:
Problem?
MIN-JUN
Mandarin subtitled:
No. All is well.
Min-jun turns his attention back to the television.
A city burns on the screen.
His expression never changes.
Through the floor-to-ceiling window, Macau is a galaxy of
light—unaffected, vibrant, and loud. In the distance, a
heavy transport plane lifts off from the International
Airport, its blinking lights climbing steadily into the
clouds.
Min-jun watches, silently.
CUT TO BLACK