EXT. LOS ANGELES - NIGHT - YEAR 2225
A dead city breathing. Bioluminescent mist glows over the
skyline as vines pulse along empty freeways.
The half-consumed HOLLYWOOD SIGN flickers under moss.
H_L_Y__OD.
Wind hums through glassless towers, like the city itself is
whispering.
INT. EVOGEN RESEARCH TOWER - CONTROL LAB - SAME
Silence - except for the low, rhythmic pulse of living walls.
Cables twist like roots, feeding into organic terminals.
Dr. AMARA SLOANE, LATE 40s, in a worn environmental suit,
moves through the dim bioluminescent haze.
Her breathing is steady but tight. The respirator hums
softly, filters straining against the grit and sweet chemical
tang in the air – unpleasant, but not what kills you here.
Monitors flicker - corrupted code, DNA maps rewriting
themselves in endless loops.
ON SCREEN:
VERDANCE NETWORK INTEGRATION: 97.3%
GLOBAL SYSTEM MERGE - IRREVERSIBLE.
Amara's hands shake as she types command after command.
AMARA
(quiet, to herself)
Come on... one sequence that
holds... just one...
The system rejects her input - error tones echo like
heartbeats.
CLOSE ON: A small data crystal pendant hanging around her
neck. Inside, faintly glowing: a child's fingerprint.
She presses it between her palms - a quiet ritual before each
attempt.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(to the pendant)
If I can fix this, maybe you can
rest.
She re-enters code -
but the room answers her.
The walls ripple.
Air from the vents stirs a haze of Verdance dust that glows
as it moves, forming a faint bioluminescent pattern above her
console.
A child's laughter, distant and warped, crackles through the
comms.
Amara freezes, staring upward - unsure if it's memory,
malfunction, or something alive.
CRASH!
A sound from the far corridor - something metallic falling.
Her head snaps toward the noise.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Dystopian","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
The Verdance Transformation
INT. CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS
Sparks flicker from the ceiling. The corridor breathes, the
walls slightly flexing.
Amara advances cautiously. Her flashlight beam cuts through a
haze of Verdance dust hanging in the air.
She finds DR. KELLAN RHO, 30s, slumped near a control hatch.
His torn containment suit leaks Verdance sap, thin rootlike
threads already creeping under the fabric.
AMARA
Kellan...?
He turns, terrified, veins in his neck lit from within,
branching like living roots.
KELLAN
(hoarse whisper)
It's in the filtration... we can't
shut it out...
He convulses.
Amara rushes forward, grabs him, tries to pull him up - but
his hand sticks to the floor.
Vines unfurl across the tiles, coiling around his wrist as
the glow spreads through him, his chest pulsing in sync with
the walls.
AMARA
Hang on- stay with me!
She jabs him with a stabilizer, it fizzles uselessly.
KELLAN
(weakly)
It's... Changing us...
He looks up - eyes glassy, tears of light streaming down his
face.
His skin softens, translucence overtaking it.
Then - stillness.
The vines pull him upright, his body dissolving into the wall
in a quiet shimmer of light.
Amara backs away, trembling.
The faint outline of his face lingers in the surface -
peaceful, luminous, horrifying.
The lab's hum deepens - the same rhythm as his final
heartbeat.
INT. CONTROL LAB - MOMENTS LATER
Amara stumbles back to her console, hands shaking.
The monitors flicker, static melting into order.
ON SCREEN:
Fragmented status windows snap into a single pulsing symbol,
a circular swirl of lines, like a fingerprint made of light,
blooming and collapsing in time with the hum.
Amara's breath stutters. Her pulse jumps.
The Verdance light in the walls answers her heartbeat,
strobing faster across the room.
The floor trembles, the sound swelling like the planet's
breath.
EXT. LOS ANGELES - CONTINUOUS
From above, the entire city pulses to the same rhythm, blocks
of bioluminescent growth lighting in sync like neurons in a
massive brain.
A new sound swells, half song, half signal.
INT. EVOGEN LAB
Amara grips the console.
Monitors show global feeds - the Verdance network spanning
continents.
GLOBAL SYNTHESIS: 98.1%.
She slams the console.
AMARA
No... not yet. I can still stop
this!
But the hum grows louder- overwhelming.
The light around her flares white.
Her pendant glows, the fingerprint within pulsing.
Verdance light whips around her, glowing particles swirling
in a sudden rush.
The brightness consumes the frame.
TITLE CARD: VERDANCE
FADE IN:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
A Breath of Hope
EXT. DESERT TEST FIELD – DAY (2215)
Shimmering Verdance particles that once marked the world's
collapse now drift harmlessly through desert sunlight over a
vast test range outside Los Angeles, sterile white tents and
research drones glitter in the heat.
AMARA, early 30s, removes her helmet, the world still barely
survivable, her face glowing with sweat and awe.
Beside her, DIRECTOR CAEL DRAVEN, 50s, confident, watching
the sky through polarized lenses.
The Verdance particles glitter like golden snow as they rise
into the blue.
DRAVEN
(quietly, almost reverent)
A century of failure, and now the
Earth finally breathes again.
Amara watches the drones release wave after wave of
particles, uneasy.
AMARA
The data's perfect, atmospheric
balance in under twenty minutes.
(MORE)
AMARA (CONT'D)
(smiles faintly)
It's working, Cael.
Draven studies her, pride in his eyes - but also something
else.
Ambition. Ownership.
DRAVEN
You didn't just fix the air, Amara
- you fixed humanity.
He claps her shoulder, already turning toward the cameras and
observation drones.
Amara's gaze drifts upward as the desert wind carries the
glowing Verdance particles toward the horizon, a shimmering
band just above the ground.
Her wrist display blinks: AIR QUALITY: STABLE. O₂: UPTICK.
Amara exhales, a flicker of hope cutting through her unease.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Echoes of Verdance
EXT. OBSERVATION VEHICLE - LATER
Amara strips off her gloves, hands still trembling.
She picks up a holo-comm and opens a live feed.
ON SCREEN: A 13-year-old girl's face - NIA, bright-eyed,
playful.
She's in a greenhouse classroom surrounded by seedlings.
NIA
You did it, Mom! They said the sky
turned blue again!
AMARA
(smiling, emotional)
Just for a little while.
We still have work to do.
NIA
Can we go outside tonight? I wanna
see the stars.
Amara hesitates, glancing toward the control rigs and towers.
AMARA
Soon. I promise.
Nia holds up a tiny plant sprout in her gloved hand.
NIA
Then Verdance can help this one
too.
The feed distorts slightly - static fuzzes her image.
Amara frowns, noticing the interference.
AMARA
Signal's dropping. Be good for your
tutor, okay?
NIA
(rolling her eyes)
Always am.
The feed cuts.
CUT TO:
EXT. DESERT FIELD - TWILIGHT
A faint green band of Verdance shimmers along the horizon, a
glowing haze clinging to the test field.
Draven's voice carries from the comm tower.
DRAVEN (O.S.)
Amara, you're not going to believe
this. Verdance just started
rewriting oxygen density... by
itself.
Amara looks up - the glowing cloud shifting, breathing.
It's beautiful... and unnerving.
AMARA
(quietly, half awe)
We actually did it.
The hum begins again - soft, deep, almost musical.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(quietly, uneasy)
What exactly did we just set loose?
MATCH CUT TO:
EXT. LOS ANGELES – NIGHT – YEAR 2225
The same hum reverberates through the ruined skyline.
Bioluminescent veins crawl across shattered buildings; the
city flickers like a heartbeat too big for its body.
INT. EVOGEN RESEARCH TOWER – CONTROL LAB – SAME
Amara stands at the window, watching the light spread through
the ruins - the same rhythm that once began in the desert.
Her reflection trembles in the glass.
She grips the edge of the console, whispering - not a prayer,
but a realization.
AMARA
(under her breath)
I hoped for a new world. Instead,
we got more than we asked for.
She exhales - the sound almost identical to the hum -
then turns back to the monitor as the glow outside
intensifies.
MATCH CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Verdance: Triumph and Tension
EXT. PACIFIC RIDGE RESEARCH FACILITY – DAY (2215)
SUPER: MONTHS LATER
Once-barren desert, what used to be Nevada, now shimmers with
color.
Fields of luminous grass ripple in the wind, spilling toward
the mountains.
Verdance has turned sand into soil - an oasis engineered by
hope.
Drones sweep overhead, misting nutrient spores across the
test plots.
Agricultural teams harvest bright clusters of new grain;
vines glisten with dew.
TECHNICIAN #1
Nutrient density's up thirty
percent, soil pH back to normal,
cleaner than hydro-grown stock, no
toxins, no acid trace.
Amara kneels, slicing open a fruit with a sterilized blade;
the shimmering pulp smells alive and edible. She smiles
softly.
AMARA
Is this what Earth used to smell
like?
Nearby, workers stack crates stamped VERDANCE YIELD – PHASE
II DISTRIBUTION.
A news crew films DIRECTOR CAEL DRAVEN, 50s, charismatic,
poised before a glowing treeline.
DRAVEN
(to cameras)
Ten months ago, this ground was
dead. Today Verdance breathes for
us, proof we can rebuild the
planet.
Applause as drones tilt skyward, capturing Verdance clouds in
sunlight.
AMARA, thinner from sleepless nights, scrolls through her
wrist display.
Data flickers - perfect results, except for one flashing
anomaly:
UNSCHEDULED NEURAL SIGNATURE DETECTED.
She frowns, isolates the reading. The pattern loops -
rhythmic, almost alive.
DRAVEN (CONT'D)
(approaching, low)
You should smile once in a while.
We're rewriting history.
AMARA
Doesn't feel like we're the ones
rewriting anything.
(beat)
Look at this pulse frequency -
Verdance is generating independent
feedback.
DRAVEN
Adaptive learning. Exactly what we
designed.
AMARA
Not like this. I'm seeing the same
pattern everywhere. The whole
system's moving in sync.
He glances at the data, then closes her wrist display with a
casual swipe.
DRAVEN
The board wants miracles, not
migraines. Take the win, Doctor.
He walks off toward the cameras again.
Amara watches him go, unsettled.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Echoes of Recovery
INT. PACIFIC RIDGE CANTEEN – NIGHT
Scientists eat Verdance-grown food under bioluminescent
lamps, laughter, clinking glasses, a soft guitar. For a
moment, the apocalypse feels far away.
Amara scrolls through global reports: vegetation reclaiming
dead oceans, rainfall returning, species reappearing.
Her smile is small, tired, but real.
She glances at a live feed: Nia and other children playing in
clear air beneath a blue sky.
AMARA
(softly)
It worked, sweetheart. We did it.
CUT TO:
INT. PACIFIC RIDGE CONTROL ROOM – LATER THAT NIGHT
The facility hums quietly.
Rows of monitors show time-lapse growth across continents -
forests erupting overnight, currents clearing, cities
greening.
Technicians celebrate as metrics spike.
Amara sits alone, replaying the same waveform - that
heartbeat pattern.
She zooms in.
Buried in the signal, a faint sub-frequency – a human rhythm:
thirteen beats, repeating.
She frowns, unsettled.
Outside, the new forest stirs – windless, yet moving.
AMARA
(whispers)
That's not a glitch.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. FACILITY ROOF – PRE-DAWN
Moonlight hangs over a thin mist as the valley hums with the
same tone from the launch, now threaded through the earth.
Amara steps to the edge, feeling a faint tremor under her
feet. The hum goes on.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Hope Amidst the Ruins
INT. AMARA'S APARTMENT – LOS ANGELES – NIGHT
The city hums outside - faint light through smog, towers
half-lit and weary.
Inside, the apartment is clean but sterile - humming filters,
flickering UV grow lamps.
A small table holds two metal food trays, steam rising
faintly.
AMARA, early 30s, sets one down beside NIA, 13, who's
sprawled on the couch scrolling through an old digital book
filled with pictures of trees and oceans she's never seen.
NIA
(peeking into the tray)
Is this real food or rehydrated
again?
AMARA
Half and half. I bribed a lab tech
for an old can of beans.
NIA
(laughs)
We're fancy tonight.
Amara smiles - tired but genuine.
AMARA
Don't get used to it. The supply
drones only come twice a week now.
They sit together, eating quietly. The hum of air filters
replaces the sound of wind.
NIA
(pointing to her tablet)
People used to just... walk
outside? Like, without masks?
AMARA
(smiling faintly)
Long before I was born. Before the
soil gave up and the air turned
sour.
NIA
So when Verdance fixes it, we'll
have real gardens?
AMARA
That's the plan. If it works, maybe
we'll have fruit again - things
that grow from the ground, not a
printer.
NIA
An apple?
AMARA
(grinning)
If this works, I'll find you one
myself.
NIA
I read they were crunchy. Sweet and
sour.
I wanna know what sour tastes like.
Amara laughs softly, brushing a strand of hair from Nia's
face.
AMARA
The old videos say they were
everywhere. People said you could
smell them after it rained.
NIA
Rain smells?
That stops Amara. A long, quiet beat.
AMARA
Yeah, sweetheart. That's what they
say.
You'll smell it one day. I promise.
(Beat.)
We both will.
A flicker of green light passes through the window - faint,
unnoticed.
NIA
When Verdance finishes, can we go
camping?
Like in the stories - real trees,
no walls, no masks, just stars?
AMARA
(quietly)
When the world's ready, we'll go
wherever you want.
Nia nods, satisfied, and digs back into her beans.
NIA
Then next time, we're eating
apples.
Amara smiles - and for a heartbeat, believes it.
Outside, the faint shimmer of Verdance drifts through the
haze, the first breath of a new Earth.
CUT TO:
MONTAGE – GLOBAL ROLLOUT – VERDANCE PHASE III (2215)
- PACIFIC RIDGE FACILITY – DAY
Launch drones rise in formation, releasing spore clouds
labeled VERDANCE: SYMBIONT NETWORK V3.0, burning gold - green
through the stratosphere.
- NEW YORK CITY – ROOFTOPS
Vines thread along derelict towers, wrapping cracked solar
panels until they bloom with light as children press to
windows, watching green overtake gray.
- ACROSS THE WORLD
A seed corridor cuts across the Sahara, Verdance trees drink
Amazon rain, and bioluminescent algae trace glowing lines
along the former Arctic shore.
REPORTER (V.O.)
Verdance Phase III enters full
deployment. Atmospheric restoration
exceeds projections; for the first
time in a century, Earth is
breathing again.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Unseen Anomalies
INT. PACIFIC RIDGE CONTROL ROOM – DAY
Cheers erupt as data surges across the main wall: oxygen up,
toxins down, vegetation indexes soaring.
DRAVEN, 50s, steps into the monitor glow, immaculate suit,
calculated smile. He waits for the room to quiet, voice
smooth, performative.
DRAVEN
Look at it. Verdance isn't just
restoring the planet, it's
redefining it. Self-sustaining
ecosystems. Renewable biomass.
Atmospheric cleaning on a global
scale. We've turned extinction into
expansion.
Applause. Cameras pivot toward him.
AMARA, early 30s, stands a few steps back, watching the data
instead of the performance.
DRAVEN (TO CAMERAS) (CONT'D)
This is more than science - it's
the dawn of a new industry.
Verdance will power economies,
rebuild cities, feed billions.
And it started right here - under
Evogen's vision.
His phrasing is deliberate: Evogen's vision, not Amara's
discovery.
Her expression hardens.
TECHNICIAN
(quietly, to Amara)
Shouldn't you be up there?
AMARA
He doesn't share credit. He
trademarks it.
She turns back to her console.
Among the stable readouts, one window flashes amber:
ON SCREEN: UNSCHEDULED FEEDBACK WAVE – LAT 37.410 N / LON
-118.223 W.
She isolates the feed; the waveform tightens, precise,
rhythmic. Not random noise.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(under her breath)
What the hell...
Beat.
Since when do roots move on a beat?
For an instant, the pattern sharpens, lines locking into a
perfect circular swirl, like a fingerprint made of light.
She flinches; then it breaks apart, back to random code.
No one else saw it.
DRAVEN (O.S.)
(to the crowd)
Verdance proves control isn't the
enemy of creation, it's the key.
Applause erupts, flashbulbs strobe as Draven basks like a
prophet.
Amara watches him – then the monitors – and feels the hum
under the floor grow slightly louder.
A vibration only she seems to notice.
She shifts her weight, unsettled, eyes flicking back to the
readouts.
The hum deepens – almost a breath.
Outside the facility, fields of new growth sway in perfect
unison.
DISSOLVE TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Anomalous Growth
EXT. OFF-GRID TEST PLOT – DAY
A fenced parcel in the high desert, coordinates matching
Amara's alert.
Wind turbines click lazily. Verdance growth looks... tidier
here. Too tidy.
INT. FIELD MODULE – DAY
A portable lab hums. AMARA and two TECHS (20s–30s) scrub in.
TECH #1
Nothing showing up now. Probably
just a blip.
AMARA
(opening her wrist
display)
Glitches don't line up like that.
She reopens the earlier anomaly capture. The waveform
tightens into the same precise, repeating rhythm - then drops
to flat baseline, the file header blinking: NO RECENT DATA.
As if it was never there.
EXT. TEST PLOT – CONTINUOUS
They step into knee-high grasses. Every blade leans toward
them, minutely adjusting as they pass.
AMARA
(quiet)
Record pressure, angle of
deflection... and audio.
The TECHS plant sensors. Mics pick up a low, layered hum-
closer to breathing than wind.
TECH #2
Uh... the soil. It's... warm?
He clips a sample from the stalk. The cut face pulses, faint
bioluminescence, thin glowing veins flare and ripple, like
light running along tiny roots.
AMARA
Run a thermal scan and show me a
full cross-section of this sample.
They scan. A lattice appears: rootlines forming spiral
arrays, like antennas.
AMARA (CONT'D)
That's not natural growth.
A ripple passes through the field. At the fence line, a
jackrabbit freezes-fur split by small, leaf-like growths
along its spine, thin green veins pulsing just under the
skin. Its head tilts with the hum, ears twitching in perfect
time. Then it hops away, movements a little too smooth, like
something else is setting the pace.
TECH #1
...What the hell was that?
What the hell is wrong with that
rabbit?
Amara watches the animal disappear into the brush, her face
tightening-half awe, half dread.
AMARA
Bag a tiny piece of the root. Just
shave it-no more than a hair.
TECH #2 uses a scalpel to nick a hair-thin sliver from the
root. The cut seals itself before he can blink.
TECH #2
Okay, plants don't do that.
TECH #2 (CONT'D)
That's- that's impossible.
TECH #1
Yeah, and I don't want to see what
else they do. I think we should go.
AMARA
(into recorder, quick)
Field log: root sealed the cut
instantly. All visible roots are
bending toward our equipment-
Verdance is reacting to our test
signal.
(to the techs)
Bag the sample. We're heading back.
Now.
She looks at the tablet and sees the roots on the scan all
bending toward their gear, like Verdance is following the
signal.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Quarantine Breach
EXT. TEST PLOT – VERDANCE GROWTH HUB – MOMENTS LATER
Thick vines twist around the post, forming a living shell.
The surface rises and falls-breathing in slow, steady bursts.
Amara watches, unsettled.
AMARA
(quietly)
What... what are we looking at?
The surface ripples. Light races through the veins-forming a
brief, almost human face shape-then fades back into green.
TECH #1
(scared)
Should we notify Draven?
AMARA
After we quarantine it.
She hauls a portable containment rig from her pack - a metal
collar attached to a small tank. She snaps the collar around
the lower vines at the base of the post.
Cold vapor hisses out. Frost races through that section, the
enclosed vines turning white-
The ground trembles.
Just beyond the frozen band, new shoots push up through the
soil, creeping over the iced section like veins rebuilding
themselves.
TECH #2
It's going around the freeze.
Amara watches, jaw tightening.
AMARA
(under her breath)
Of course it is. Because why would
this be easy.
Her wrist comm chirps. She taps to answer.
INTERCUT WITH:
EXT. PACIFIC RIDGE LAUNCH STAGE – DAY
Draven stands under bright lights at a podium, a news banner
behind him. Cameras and a small crowd in front of him. An
earpiece in his ear, mic clipped to his lapel.
A PRODUCTION ASSISTANT off to the side holds up fingers: 3...
2...
DRAVEN
(low, into comm, keeping
his smile)
Doctor Sloane, I'm seeing
quarantine flags. We're in the
middle of a live broadcast. Tell me
you didn't shut down my field over
a glitch.
BACK TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Verdance Unraveled
INT. FIELD MODULE – DAY
AMARA
It's not a glitch, Cael. We just
watched a jackrabbit with Verdance
growing through its skin, and the
vines are reacting to us, movement,
temperature, maybe even sound.
INTERCUT – STAGE / FIELD MODULE
DRAVEN
(low, still performing for
the crowd)
Which means it's working, Verdance
is adjusting exactly like we built
it to.
AMARA
We did not build it to rewrite wild
animals, Cael. It's crossing into
living tissue.
DRAVEN
(low, impatient)
Lines on a whiteboard are what
stalled progress for a century.
Drop the alert, log your notes. The
board doesn't pay us to panic.
AMARA
Cael, this isn't adaptation - it's
reaction.
DRAVEN
(still playing to the
crowd, low)
Take your sample, Doctor. Don't
sabotage the miracle.
The feed cuts. The hum settles, low and alive.
Amara stares at the living growth, fear pushing past the awe.
AMARA
(to Techs)
Take a micro sample, that's it, no
damage, no big cuts.
TECH #2 steps in with a scalpel, shaving a sliver no wider
than a hair from one of the larger vines.
The exposed spot glows, then settles as the hum softens.
On her tablet, a new pattern appears, rhythmic, almost a
heartbeat.
Amara stares at it, unsettled as a faint breeze moves through
the field; every blade tilts toward her, as if aware.
CUT TO:
INT. PACIFIC RIDGE CONTROL ROOM – NIGHT (LATER)
Amara downloads the sample. On-screen, protein chains twist
and merge, then lock into a dense pattern that shouldn't
exist – plant tissue wrapping around a thin band of data that
looks disturbingly like a neural trace.
In the corner of the display, a faint line of static appears.
It tightens into a small bar and starts pulsing in a fixed
sequence – beats, pause, the same rhythm repeating.
Amara hits RECORD, voice low, unsteady.
AMARA
Control log, Dr. Amara Sloane.
Sample is sending organized
feedback with a stable pulse. No
interface connected. Source
unknown.
On-screen, the pulsing bar glitches into scattered noise,
then disappears.
Silence; only the faint hum of the systems. Amara leans
closer, heart pounding, unsure if she imagined it.
SMASH CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Struggle Against Verdance
EXT. LOS ANGELES – NIGHT – YEAR 2225
The ruined city glows with the same rhythm-light pulsing
through the skyline like a heartbeat that never stopped.
INT. EVOGEN RESEARCH TOWER – CONTROL LAB – CONTINUOUS
Alarms are dead. Power is a dim, bioluminescent wash.
ON THE MAIN WALL: VERDANCE NETWORK: 98.4%... 98.5%...
Amara's eyes track the number. She rips a faded schematic off
the wall.
AMARA
(under her breath)
Manual uplink... roof relay.
She grabs a tool kit and heads out.
INT. STAIRWELL – CONTINUOUS
Concrete swallowed by moss. Her boots splash through thin,
glowing runoff.
Something skitters above – not quite animal, not quite plant.
She climbs faster.
EXT. EVOGEN ROOF – NIGHT
Wind. The city spreads in every direction, thudding with that
slow pulse.
At the center of the roof: a spine of cables rising into a
ragged antenna, vines braided along it like muscle on bone.
Amara kneels at a corroded panel, pops it. Inside: old manual
cutoffs, half-fused with roots.
She slips in a pry bar. A vine curls around her glove-gentle,
testing.
AMARA
Easy.
She pulls free, wedges the bar deeper, hauls -
The first cutoff SNAPS. The city's glow stutters... then
steadies, brighter.
ON THE SKYLINE: waves of light roll out, like an ocean
answering the moon.
Amara yanks at the second cutoff. The vines tighten,
resisting. Sap beads like sweat.
Her pendant warms against her chest.
She hesitates, breath fogging her visor.
For a second, a memory of Nia's laugh seems to ride the wind.
Amara flinches, angry at herself, and throws her weight on
the lever -
The SECOND CUTOFF SLAMS. The antenna shudders. For a
heartbeat the pulse across the city falters.
ON THE MAIN SPINE: new shoots sprout, questing, finding each
other, knitting across the broken link.
AMARA (CONT'D)
No, no, no-
She pulls a knife, slicing the newborn threads. They regrow
as she cuts, faster each time.
Her comm band flickers to life - no interface, just its tiny
status light pulsing in the same slow rhythm as the city
below. A thin tone bleeds from the speaker, rising and
falling with the pulse.
Amara freezes. The wind seems to drop. The vines keep moving
in time with the sound.
She slaps the band off, drags in a shaking breath, and goes
for the FINAL CUTOFF-
A LOW TONE SWELLS beneath her, rising through the building.
The roof vibrates.
ON THE CITY: whole districts brighten in sequence, surging in
waves from block to block.
VERDANCE NETWORK: 98.7%...
Amara drops the bar, staggers back, eyes on the horizon,
caught between cutting the last line and seeing what happens
if she doesn't.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Dystopian","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Whispers of Verdance
INT. AMARA'S APARTMENT – NIGHT (2215)
The city hums outside – a low, constant pressure behind the
walls.
Inside: lived-in chaos. School tablets, worn blankets, a
cheap VR visor tossed on the couch.
Nia sits at the tiny table, building a paper model of a tree
from a learning kit – folding the last green triangle into
place. A printed flyer lies beside her:
PHASE III LIVE DEMO – CITY PARK – 1000 HRS.
The image shows kids running through a small Verdance grove,
masks off, smiling.
Amara enters, tired, still in her lab badge. She drops her
bag, notices the flyer.
AMARA
You're still awake?
NIA
(grinning)
You said I could stay up. They sent
the park schedule. Look-
She pushes the flyer toward her.
NIA (CONT'D)
They're turning the whole south
lawn green. Real plants. No
printers. Ms. Kwan said we get to
feel the ground.
Amara glances at the time printed at the bottom: 10:00 AM.
The same as the map tile from her terminal.
AMARA
(sits, masking her worry)
Big day.
NIA
You're coming, right? You said
you'd try.
AMARA
I'll... do everything I can.
NIA
You always say that.
She says it without attitude – just fact. She goes back to
the paper tree, carefully pressing the last fold.
NIA (CONT'D)
Do you think it'll smell like the
videos?
AMARA
What videos?
NIA
The old ones. Parks. Rain. Apples.
Amara watches her for a beat, then reaches out and fixes a
crooked branch on the paper tree.
AMARA
If they did this right, it'll smell
like something. Better than filters
and printer dust.
NIA
(pure hope)
So... like life?
That hits Amara. She forces a small smile.
AMARA
Yeah. Like life.
Nia nods, satisfied, and starts packing her school mask into
a little bag, laying the flyer on top like a treasure.
Amara looks past her, out the window - faint Verdance glow on
the distant horizon.
She pulls her wrist display up under the table, checks the
same park location: PHASE III LIVE DEMO – 10:00 AM.
CONFIRMED.
She flicks the screen dark before Nia can see.
NIA
Mom?
AMARA
Yeah?
NIA
If it's really nice... can we stay
a little after my class goes?
AMARA
(soft)
We'll see.
Nia beams and returns to her model.
Amara watches her, the tightness behind her eyes a mix of
pride and unease.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
A Glimpse of Verdance
EXT. PACIFIC RIDGE GREENHOUSE COMPLEX – DAY
Rows of massive bioglass domes shimmer under sunlight,
surrounded by stretches of desert that are slowly greening -
the first true signs of recovery.
Drones hum through the sky, dispersing nutrient mist into the
air.
Inside each dome:
Lush forests of fruit trees, vegetables, flowers. Air that
smells alive.
Families of scientists walk the aisles - laughing, touching
leaves, tasting food grown from living soil for the first
time in generations.
REPORTER (V.O.)
Verdance's Greenhouse Network - now
the world's largest living food
system - is restoring oxygen
levels, soil fertility, and clean
air across six continents.
INT. MAIN GREENHOUSE – CONTINUOUS
Amara moves between tomato vines and wild grass, quietly
taking readings.
Her wrist display shows perfect data: zero toxins, stable pH,
full growth yield.
Nearby, Draven addresses reporters and delegates.
DRAVEN
Verdance is life reborn - a
partnership between humanity and
the planet itself. And this is just
the beginning.
He smiles for the cameras. The crowd applauds.
But Amara steps toward the dome's edge - where the glass
meets the soil - and notices something strange.
Tiny roots have begun pushing beneath the containment
barrier.
Not breaking it - just growing beyond it.
She kneels, running her hand along the glass seam.
The roots twitch. For a moment, they respond - leaning toward
her touch.
AMARA
(quietly)
You're not supposed to be past the
line.
She straightens, unsettled.
Across the dome, in the public demo area, a child bites into
a piece of fruit and laughs as cameras flash. Draven beams
for the crowd.
Outside, in the desert soil, a faint shimmer runs through the
sand – a pulse spreading outward.
A chime sounds over the PA.
PA VOICE (V.O.)
Phase Three demonstration is now
concluded. School groups, please
follow your guides back to the
buses.
Teachers start herding kids toward the exits. Staff begin
shutting down displays; the demo lights inside the dome
soften as the crowd thins. Draven keeps smiling for a last
few photos, already talking to the cameras about "the
future."
DISSOLVE TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Emerging Threat
EXT. GREENHOUSE PERIMETER – DUSK
Golden light fades over the domes. A row of external filters
hums softly along the fence line.
A MAINTENANCE TECH crouches at an intake vent, checking a
pressure gauge.
The sand around the vent shifts - barely noticeable. He
frowns, brushes it with his glove.
Tiny filaments of green thread the grains, hair-thin roots
glowing faintly under the surface.
MAINTENANCE TECH
(mutters)
We don't get growth out here.
(Beat)
- at least we aren't supposed to.
He taps his scanner. No reading. Just hiss and static.
He looks back - the filaments are gone.
He exhales, uneasy, and starts to walk away... then freezes.
Something moves under the sand. Not wind. Growth.
A faint hum rises from the ground.
He kneels again, presses his palm to the soil - and the sand
seems to press back.
He staggers to his feet.
Behind him, the dome lights flicker once.
Then everything looks normal again.
CUT TO:
INT. GREENHOUSE – NIGHT
Data scrolls across Amara's monitors: Verdance density
stable. Oxygen levels nominal. No active alerts.
She scrubs back through the last perimeter readings. One
spike flashes just beyond the containment fence, then auto-
tags:
STATUS: TRANSIENT EVENT - CLEARED.
AMARA
(into recorder)
Greenhouse log, Dr. Amara Sloane.
Perimeter vent showed a brief
oxygen bump outside the containment
line. System auto-cleared it as
transient; no equipment fault
found.
(beat)
Flagging for manual review.
She stops recording, eyes lingering on the word CLEARED, then
kills the display.
A low vibration rolls through the glass. Vines shiver. The
air shifts - sweeter, heavier.
On the monitor, numbers wobble, then climb.
TECH #1
(uneasy)
Okay... now oxygen's jumping.
TECH #2
Humidity just spiked.
Amara taps commands. Warning lights blink as the greenhouse
doors seal.
AMARA
Lock the outer vents. Manual
lockdown. Now.
They move fast. Doors slam shut. For a beat, there's relief.
A sharp metallic POP from overhead - a duct seam splits.
Thick green moisture beads along the crack and drips into a
service corridor below.
TECH #1
(under his breath)
That's not condensation.
EXT. GREENHOUSE – SERVICE CORRIDOR – MOMENTS LATER
A maintenance tech in a coverall follows the leak. He kneels,
runs a gloved finger through the green moisture.
It recoils like a living thing and climbs his hand.
He jerks his hand away, lets out a short, nervous laugh. A
second later his breathing speeds up. He presses a hand to
his chest and collapses, eyes open, unable to speak.
CUT TO:
INT. GREENHOUSE – NIGHT
The tech's radio crackles on a nearby console.
RADIO (V.O.)
(distorted)
...corridor five... man down...
TECH #2 checks a feed. The fallen tech is visible on a small
monitor.
TECH #2
He's seizing. Get med team.
AMARA
No. Keep everyone back. Quarantine
corridor five.
They move. On the monitor, the tech's face shifts - skin
washed out, veins showing faint green under the surface. His
chest rises and falls in a slow, even rhythm that matches the
low vibration in the room.
TECH #1
(soft)
He's going limp.
AMARA
(urgent)
Move him to isolation. Now.
They act. The camera stays on Amara's hands, shaking as she
types emergency overrides.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Crisis in Sector 5
INT. PACIFIC RIDGE CONTROL ROOM – NIGHT
Screens flash: CONTAINMENT ALERT – SECTOR 5.
On one monitor, Draven's polished broadcast image freezes
mid-smile, then drops to a private feed as he turns toward
the alert.
DRAVEN
(into comm)
Sector five, talk to me. Status.
A TECH at a console scans the incoming data.
TECH
We've got one down in the corridor.
Unresponsive. Vitals unstable.
Exposure tied to a Verdance line in
the vent. Area's sealed.
The room's energy flips - from rollout buzz to quiet crisis
management.
DRAVEN
Keep this off the public channels.
Stabilize the site. Put a hold on
all rollout feeds until I say
otherwise.
AMARA (V.O.)
(over comm, hoarse)
It's not just spread, Cael. It's
changing the biology.
DRAVEN
(through clenched teeth)
Do what you can. Contain it.
SMASH CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
The Uncontainable Verdance
INT. QUARANTINE BAY – NIGHT
They've isolated the first tech. Monitors beep around his bed
as the med team works in masks and shields.
On one screen, his vital signs scroll - pulse oddly steady
for someone in crisis. On another, a close-up of Verdance
tissue under magnification shows strands shifting and
reconnecting faster than the software can track.
TECH #2
That sample won't stay the same
shape. It keeps rearranging itself.
Amara looks from the screens to the tech on the bed.
AMARA
(to staff)
Lock this room. Cut any Verdance
lines feeding this bay. Shut off
outside links now.
Staff move. Vents close. Indicator lights flip from green to
red.
A soft creak runs along the wall. Near the head of the bed, a
thin gap in a service panel widens. A narrow Verdance root
slips out, feeling along the air.
It touches the tech's bare wrist.
His eyes find the contact, more dazed than scared. The heart
monitor slows, settling into a slow, even beat.
TECH #1
(quiet)
His numbers just dropped. He's not
able to fight it.
The tech's body relaxes. His breathing becomes shallow and
very regular.
Amara watches the monitor, jaw tight, as the Verdance strand
stays wrapped around his wrist like a thin band.
CUT TO:
INT. GREENHOUSE – NIGHT (LATER)
Comms crackle with clipped reports.
RADIO (V.O.)
...child down in a nearby block -
unconscious. One arm's covered in
green growth, fingers stiff, thin
leaf-blades pushing out from the
nail beds...
RADIO #2 (V.O.)
...family dog won't stand - back
leg swollen solid, fur gone in a
strip where the skin's turned
smooth and green, like young
bark...
The facility snaps into triage.
Amara scrolls through live feeds - a grid of tiny windows.
On one: the child's hand, limp, fingers locked straight,
narrow green blades where the nails should be.
On another: the dog on an exam table, one rear leg rigid, a
clean band of green bark running from thigh to ankle.
AMARA
(scared, under her breath)
It's spreading into the living.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Survival in the Shadows
INT. AMARA'S APARTMENT – NIGHT (2215)
Amara's voice crackles back through the wall intercom, calm
but tight.
AMARA (O.S.)
Stay inside. Lock the door. Don't
go near the windows, okay?
Nia nods, sets her crayons down, locks the door, then returns
to the table, picking at her food. The siren fades, replaced
by a low, steady sound under the building as
Nia glances toward the window. Outside, a faint green glow
rolls along the distant skyline, lighting one strip of
buildings at a time.
NIA
(soft)
Mom... it looks kind of pretty.
The intercom screen flickers on - AMARA'S FACE, pale, eyes
moving like she's watching other alerts offscreen.
AMARA (ON SCREEN)
Stay with me. Keep the filters on
and don't open anything, you hear
me? I'll be there as soon as-
Her image freezes, then drops to static. Nia stares at the
dead screen, the low sound under the floor still there.
CUT TO:
EXT. CITY STREETS – NIGHT (2215)
Up ahead, a MAN in a respirator pounds on the metal frame of
a locked apartment door.
MAN
(muffled, panicked)
Let me in! Open the door!
His gloved fist hammers the wall. At the base, a thin
Verdance vine has already pushed through a crack in the
concrete, shaking dust loose as it feels up the wall and
curls around his boot.
He doesn't notice. Amara does.
AMARA
(shouting through her
mask)
Hey-step back! Don't touch the
wall!
He turns, confused, still gripping the frame with his other
hand. The vine climbs, wrapping his ankle, then his calf,
tightening around the fabric. Another thin strand finds the
gap between glove and sleeve, slipping under and disappearing
up his arm.
He slaps at it, but his movements go sluggish. His knees
buckle and he sinks to the ground, sliding down the door,
eyes open behind the fogged respirator.
Amara hesitates for half a second, torn, then forces herself
to keep running. She can't stop.
She rounds the corner onto her block.
Farther up, a WOMAN in a mask fights to drag her TEENAGE SON
inside.
WOMAN
(muffled)
Inside. Now. Don't argue, just go.
The teen twists free onto the top stair, where a pale
Verdance tendril has pushed up through the seam by the
building. It coils around his leg under the cuff.
TEENAGER
(muffled shout)
Mom-my leg-
He grabs at it as the tendril jerks, burrowing under the
fabric. His leg locks and he drops hard onto the steps while
his mother screams for help.
WOMAN
Help! Somebody, please!
Amara runs past, jaw clenched, as a stray dog with green-
striped fur bolts across the street and a man with Verdance
plates creeping up his neck sways against a wall.
Amara doesn't touch anyone. She keeps going. She reaches her
building and taps the access panel with her elbow through her
sleeve.
INT. AMARA'S BUILDING – STAIRWELL – SECONDS LATER
She pushes through the front door with her shoulder, avoiding
direct contact.
Inside is dim and humming; the stairwell walls are cracked.
She strips off her outer gloves into a bio-bag and seals it,
then takes the stairs two at a time.
On one landing, a thin Verdance tendril probes through a
hairline crack near the floor; she flattens against the
opposite wall and slips past.
INT. AMARA'S APARTMENT – NIGHT
Nia sits on the floor near the table, knees hugged to her
chest, mask loose around her neck. The low vibration under
the building is louder now. She stares at the door.
NIA
(voice small)
Mom?
The lock turns. Amara bursts in, still masked, breathing
hard. She shuts the door with her hip and throws the
deadbolt.
AMARA
Nia!
Nia scrambles up. Amara holds up a hand.
AMARA (CONT'D)
Stay there. Don't touch me yet.
She goes straight to the small sink, grabs a labeled decon
spray from under it and soaks her jacket sleeves, scrubbing
hard with disposable wipes. The dried sap smears break apart
and turn dull gray.
She strips the jacket off, stuffs it and the used wipes into
the bio-bag with her outer gloves, and seals it tight. Thin
underlayer gloves stay on her hands.
Only then does she strip off her mask and cross to Nia.
AMARA (CONT'D)
Okay. Now.
Nia throws her arms around her. Amara pulls her in tight,
steering her away from the door and window.
AMARA (CONT'D)
It's okay. I'm here. We're staying
put, you hear me? No doors, no
windows, no...
A faint cracking sound interrupts her. They both look down.
At the base of the far wall, the paint splits as a thin
Verdance root pushes through, feeling along the edge, inching
forward.
NIA
(freaked)
It's in here...
AMARA
Back. Get back...
She moves to put herself between Nia and the wall, but Nia
panics, stepping so her bare foot lands close to the crack.
The root moves fast now, curling around two of Nia's toes and
digging in.
Nia gasps, jerking her foot back, but the contact is made. A
streak of green remains around the base of her toes, sinking
under the skin.
NIA
(crying)
It hurts-it hurts-
Amara grabs her, hauling her away from the wall, lifting her
onto a chair so her feet are off the floor.
AMARA
Okay, okay, look at me, look at me-
But Nia's eyes are already going glassy. She clutches her own
leg, above the ankle, where a thin green line has started to
travel upward under the skin.
It moves slow but steady, tracing a path up her calf.
NIA
(whispers)
Mom... it's in my leg.
AMARA
Stay with me. Squeeze my hand. Come
on...
She grabs Nia's shoulders through the fabric of her shirt,
keeping her gloved hands away from the green line crawling up
the leg.
Amara, out of reflex, drags Nia toward the small portable
filter unit, slaps a mask over her face and hits emergency
settings, even though she's watching the line move under the
skin and knows it isn't the air.
AMARA (CONT'D)
Breathe with me. Match me. In-out-
come on-
Nia's breathing shifts on its own, deep and slow, not in sync
with Amara, in sync with the low vibration coming up through
the floor.
The line reaches her hip, then splits, one branch climbing
toward her chest, one toward her spine.
NIA
(soft, distant)
It's... warm.
AMARA
No. No, no-you're staying here.
Look at me. Nia, look at me...
Faint green branches appear along one side of Nia's neck,
just under the skin. Her eyelids flutter, then settle half-
open, her gaze unfocused but oddly calm.
NIA
(soft)
I don't... feel bad.
Amara shakes her.
AMARA
You're not going anywhere. Stay.
Stay with me-
Nia's body slackens in her arms.
AMARA (CONT'D)
Nia. Nia-no, no, no-
Amara clutches her, wrapping a blanket around them both, her
gloved hands pressed to cloth, not skin. She breaks into a
raw, wrenching cry that fills the small apartment.
The camera pulls back: Amara on the floor, cradling one
small, still body, while Verdance roots continue to press
slowly in under the wall.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Grief and Resolve Amidst Verdance
INT. PACIFIC RIDGE CONTROL ROOM – NIGHT
Draven stands before a bank of emergency feeds: Verdance
growth pushing through concrete, field teams in suits, med
bays filling, sections marked CONTAINMENT ACTIVE.
A small camera is set up facing him. A PRODUCER counts down
with fingers.
PRODUCER (O.S.)
Three... two...
Draven straightens his jacket, face smoothing into calm.
DRAVEN
(to camera)
This is Dr. Cael Draven of Evogen.
Tonight we've seen a handful of
isolated incidents in early
Verdance zones.
(MORE)
DRAVEN (CONT'D)
Our response teams are on site, and
all affected areas are under
review.
He doesn't look at the worst screens behind him.
DRAVEN (CONT'D)
Out of an abundance of caution,
we're pausing new field expansion
while we assess and adjust.
Verdance remains under control.
CUT TO:
INT. AMARA'S APARTMENT – NIGHT
Dark. Almost silent.
Amara sits on the floor, knees pulled in. Beside her: her
daughter's body, wrapped tight in a white thermal shroud.
Verdance roots still push slowly in under the far wall, kept
at a distance only by a thin strip of sealant she's slapped
down in a hurry.
Amara's hands tremble around a small portable scanner. Its
indicator light flickers weakly.
She leans over the shroud, carefully freeing one of Nia's
hands, keeping the fabric between herself and the skin
wherever she can. She guides Nia's index finger into the
scanner and presses the capture key.
The scanner chimes, a soft, neutral tone.
ON SCREEN: BIOMETRIC SAMPLE SAVED - FINGERPRINT ID: NIA
SLOANE.
Amara exhales, more a break than a breath.
She pops a small data crystal from the side of the unit and
closes her fingers around it, pressing it to her chest.
AMARA
(whisper)
They don't get to erase you.
She glances toward the window. The horizon glows faint green,
Verdance pulsing, alive, indifferent.
Amara tightens her fist around the crystal until her knuckles
go white.
SMASH CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
The Breach: Global Awakening
EXT. LOS ANGELES – NIGHT – WIDE (2215)
The city's faint glow thickens, then begins to spread, slow
at first, then in steady waves. Verdance veins trace along
buildings and streets, lighting up district after district.
The low hum deepens, layered now, rolling under the whole
skyline.
The view pulls higher, showing Los Angeles pulsing as if
drawing breath.
TITLE CARD: THE BREACH
CUT TO:
GLOBAL MONTAGE – VARIOUS (2215)
EXT. RURAL CHINA – DUSK
Terraced fields that were bare a season ago now pulse with
Verdance grain over dry, cracked soil.
A masked farmer and child watch; the child slips a bare hand
from his sleeve, touches a stalk, and in a heartbeat his arm
plates over in hard green shell as thin roots curl up around
his feet.
CUT TO:
EXT. PARIS – NIGHT
The Eiffel Tower disappears behind a bloom of Verdance growth
wrapping its iron frame.
Streetlamps dim as vines slither up from gutters, sprouting
flowers that open and blink.
Masked onlookers record it from a distance, until the flowers
mirror their own faces back, distorted and still.
CUT TO:
EXT. NEVADA DESERT – DAY
Military quarantine units burn overgrowths. The flames
flicker green.
One soldier steps closer to a burned vine - it's regrowing,
curling toward the sound of his breath.
Behind him, another soldier screams. His arm is encased in a
translucent cocoon, veins glowing inside it.
CUT TO:
EXT. OCEAN SURFACE – TWILIGHT
Whales breach through glowing water - Verdance algae lines
forming circuits across their skin.
A dorsal fin unfurls into a frill of light, pulsing in time
with the Verdance hum.
Seagulls circle, their feathers tipped in bioluminescent
green.
CUT TO:
EXT. URBAN STREET – TOKYO – NIGHT
People wear respirators again. Billboards flicker between
commercials and emergency warnings:
"STAY INDOORS. AVOID VERDANCE CONTACT."
A delivery drone crashes - overgrown midair, covered in vine-
like filaments.
A cat slinks past it - its fur streaked with stiff green
ridges.
CUT TO:
EXT. GLOBAL SATELLITE FEED – CONTINUOUS
The world glows along coastlines as Verdance veins spread
from domes and towers, threading oceans and continents.
Green circuits crawl across the dark side of the planet,
pulsing in slow, connected waves.
REPORTER (V.O.)
Unconfirmed reports of spontaneous
biological events are spreading
across every major Verdance region.
Authorities insist the situation is
under control-
(static, cut off)
SILENCE.
Then: the hum. Deep. Planetary.
MONTAGE ENDS.
FADE IN:
EXT. LOS ANGELES – YEAR 2225 – DAY
The city is quiet, too quiet.
Sunlight filters through a green haze, painting the ruins in
eerie beauty. Vines crawl up what's left of skyscrapers,
leaves pulsing with faint light like veins under skin.
Nature hasn't reclaimed the city, it has replaced it.
A rusted freeway sign reads: HOLLYWOOD BLVD, half-buried
under moss that hums faintly with the distant Verdance
rhythm.
Something moves.
A shape darts between overgrown cars, four-legged, fast,
silent. The underbrush shivers in its wake.
CLOSE ON a cracked shard of glass in the road.
AMARA'S reflection edges into view.
She's older now, late 40s, weary but focused. Her respirator
hisses quietly with each breath. Verdance stains streak her
suit where she's brushed past growth.
She scans the horizon, careful, precise, then takes a step.
The ground shifts underfoot, soft like flesh. Her boot leaves
an impression that closes behind her.
AMARA
(under breath)
Easy... one step at a time.
Her hand grips a compact scanner. The readout flickers, life
signatures everywhere.
A faint rustling.
She freezes.
From the shadow of a half-collapsed tunnel, something stirs.
At first glance, it looks like a stag, antlers blooming with
blossoms, but its glassy eyes and hollow, faintly glowing
chest move in sync with the city's low hum.
Amara drops behind a burnt-out transport, holding her breath.
The creature steps forward, sniffing the air. Its ribs
expand; flowers opening along its flank as it exhales. It
stops. Head turns toward her, listening.
A beat, then it bounds away, soundless.
Amara exhales, tension leaving her in a small shiver.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. EVOGEN RESEARCH SECTOR – CONTINUOUS
The shattered Evogen Tower juts from a green sea, the bones
of her creation, half-swallowed by flexing vines.
Amara climbs over twisted metal. A tendril snaps around her
boot; she slashes it free. Sap beads as the vine recoils,
then seals itself.
Her pulse spikes as her scanner chirps, faint network
activity, a loop of Verdance code pinging from deep in the
ruins.
She hesitates, then moves in as the air thickens, wet, sweet,
vibrating, moss rising under her boots with each swelling
step.
Her flashlight catches warped shapes: walls slow-breathing,
glass fused with roots, steel beams grown into pale, bone-
like lattice.
A low creak behind her; she swings the light, nothing. The
moss where she stood has already closed over her footprints.
Her scanner flashes: SIGNAL SOURCE – 12 METERS as the
vibration deepens.
She tightens her grip on the knife and pushes on toward a
green glow leaking through a cracked doorway, spreading over
her suit in a near- heartbeat pattern.
She wipes her visor, takes a slow breath, and steps through.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. RESEARCH TOWER – CENTRAL LOBBY – MOMENTS LATER
Amara steps into a vast chamber, the old Evogen hub.
The ceiling is split open, daylight bleeding through and
feeding the growth below. Vines crawl up the walls, wrapping
shattered screens that still flicker with broken Verdance
code.
A half-buried sign in the overgrowth reads: EVOGEN:
REBUILDING TOMORROW - the letters now crawling with mold.
Amara steadies her breath, lifting
her scanner. ON SCREEN: SIGNAL SOURCE: NEARBY.
She moves across the floor, boots sinking into damp moss as a
low vibration trembles under her. She kneels, brushing away a
layer of green to reveal fiber-like roots pulsing with faint
light, running deep into the structure.
Her scanner updates:
ON SCREEN: VERDANCE NETWORK, ACTIVE.
AMARA
(whisper)
The network's still live...
The vibration under her hand jumps. The roots brighten.
Around the room, vines shiver in sequence.
Amara staggers back, knife up.
A long, low creak rolls through the tower, not wind, not
settling, but the whole structure shifting at once.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. EVOGEN RESEARCH TOWER – LOWER LEVEL CORRIDOR –
CONTINUOUS
The hum deepens, no longer background but a pulse in her
chest as Amara edges down the corridor, her light
cutting a narrow tunnel ahead.
The floor shifts under her boots; she looks down. Beneath a
thin skin of moss, the surface breathes, a human face fused
with root and bark, chest rising weakly as pale eyes flick
open to track her.
Amara jolts back, horrified. From deeper down the hall:
scraping, then uneven, wet footsteps drawing closer. She
kills her light and ducks behind a cracked pillar.
Through the gloom, something emerges, roughly human-shaped,
twisted, skin laced with vines, ribs splitting into stalks,
mouth half-covered by petals that flex when it breathes. Each
rattling inhale and low Verdance-tone exhale makes her hand
tremble around the knife.
The creature tilts its head, listening; its jaw shifts,
opening wider than it should as the hum pitches up, probing
the corridor.
She eases sideways, boot brushing loose debris, a tiny
scrape. The hybrid snaps toward the sound, then charges.
Amara bolts, sprinting down the hall, scanner bouncing
against her chest as the corridor narrows, roots hanging like
tendrils.
She rounds a corner, behind her, a wall of vines slams down,
the corridor closing like a throat. She dives through a half
open door and crashes into-
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Evasion in the Shadows
INT. RESEARCH TOWER – SUBLEVEL LAB – CONTINUOUS
Dark, stale air, damp and sweet, hangs over rows of ruined
consoles and sealed sample tanks; something inside one
twitches.
Amara locks the door, gasping, forcing herself quiet as the
hybrid's shadow passes the glass, slow, searching, its hum
vibrating through the metal like sonar.
Then... silence.
Amara waits, barely breathing, then lifts her scanner,
Verdance code still pulsing through the walls,
denser here.
She wipes dust from a monitor; it flickers to life, power
still alive in the core systems.
ON SCREEN:
FILE ACCESS: RESTRICTED – DRAVEN / PROJECT V.LOG_231.
Amara stares, disbelief and rage mixing as she taps the
command override. The screen glitches, then stabilizes.
[keep your DRAVEN V.O. text here]
The playback cuts to static. In the glass, a faint reflection
of movement - the hybrid's silhouette returning.
Amara kills the screen, reaching for her knife.
The pendant at her neck glows faintly now, its small pulse
matching the Verdance activity on her scanner. She presses it
to her chest for a beat, just holding on to what's left of
Nia.
Her scanner pings again - one faint, buried signal.
ON SCREEN: CORE ACCESS HUB – ACTIVE.
She looks up at a sealed maintenance tunnel behind the tanks
- the only path deeper in.
A sound - wet footsteps - echoes from the corridor. The
hybrid is back.
She crouches, sliding beneath a rusted console and crawling
toward the tunnel as its shadow stretches across the lab wall
- long, trembling, wrong.
It sniffs the air, petals fluttering like lungs. Her scanner
backlight flares; the hybrid freezes, turning toward the
glow.
Amara holds her breath, hand shaking against the console
frame.
Then a shriek layered with static tears through the corridor;
another creature answers, then another. The hybrid turns
away, drawn to the noise.
Amara seizes the opening, crawling
out and bolting for the-
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Descent into the Verdance Core
INT. MAINTENANCE SHAFT – CONTINUOUS
Darkness. Her headlamp shakes as she crawls forward, breath
ragged inside her mask.
Behind her, the hatch THUDS again, something heavy slamming
it over and over, the sound crawling down the tunnel.
Amara presses the pendant at her neck
to her chest.
AMARA
(under breath)
What the hell did we start...?
The metal vibrates beneath her palms - the hum running
deeper.
INT. MAINTENANCE SHAFT – DEEPER – CONTINUOUS
The shaft slopes downward, condensation beading on the walls
and dripping in slow, steady taps.
Her headlamp flickers. The hum grows louder - less metallic
now, more like something alive.
She freezes as faint movement ripples along the walls - moss
spreading like veins waking under skin.
AMARA
(whisper)
You shouldn't be able to grow in
here...
She crawls faster, chasing the source of the glow ahead -
faint green bleeding through a grating at the tunnel's end.
She pries it open and drops through.
INT. VERDANCE CORE CHAMBER – CONTINUOUS
A vast underground space - once an R&D reactor bay. Now
unrecognizable.
Every surface is alive: walls and ceiling braided with
translucent vines, faint light running through old power
conduits.
In the center, a massive root cluster - the Core - rising and
settling in a slow, steady rhythm.
Amara lands hard, flashlight skidding across the floor.
When she looks up, her beam catches inside the Core - light
refracting through it like liquid glass.
She steps closer. The hum is in her ribs now.
Within the mass, faint shapes move. Too symmetrical to be
random.
CLOSE ON:
A half-formed face beneath the
surface - human, almost. It
flickers away when she blinks.
Amara backs up, shaking.
AMARA
(softly, horrified)
Oh my God... it's built from us.
She spins away from the Core and scrambles back into the
maintenance shaft, climbing toward the upper levels as the
hum swells behind her in the dark.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Descent into Darkness
INT. EVOGEN RESEARCH TOWER – LOWER LEVELS – CONTINUOUS
Amara bursts through a warped stairwell door, stumbling into
darkness.
Her headlamp flickers, catching walls webbed with vines that
pulse faintly beneath a thin skin of growth.
Every breath fogs her mask. The low hum vibrates up through
the floor into her ribs.
Behind her - a sound.
Wet, dragging steps.
She tightens her grip on the knife, eyes scanning the
corridor.
Shadows shift. Then resolve.
Figures step into view - mutated humans.
Skin gone bark-like, faint green veins showing underneath.
Their eyes are clouded, but tracking.
They move together, not random - each step landing in the
same slow rhythm.
Amara takes a step back. The creatures pause, heads tilting
in unison toward her light.
A low rumble builds around her - not from their throats, but
from the air.
She turns and runs.
The corridor twists, half-metal, half-root. The walls seem to
flex inward. Her boots slip on wet moss.
The creatures follow, fast and synchronized - limbs bending
at wrong angles, pulled forward like they're on invisible
lines.
She dives through a broken access hatch and slams it behind
her.
The metal booms. Claws scrape against it, steady, deliberate.
She kills her light. Holds her breath.
The hum swells - and underneath it, something else:
fragmentary, distorted.
VOICES (V.O.)
(overlapping fragments)
Help... run... don't... remember...
Amara's hand trembles against the wall.
One note cuts through the rest - tiny, almost lost. A tone
she knows.
Nia. Not speaking, not separate - just a shard of her voice
buried in the noise.
Amara's breath stutters.
She understands now: Verdance isn't copying sounds. It's
keeping them.
The hatch vibrates as the creatures claw again, faster.
She drops to the floor, crawls toward a narrow vent in the
corner, and drags herself inside, scraping her suit as she
disappears into the dark.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Horror"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Chaos Unleashed
INT. EVOGEN RESEARCH TOWER – VENT SHAFT – CONTINUOUS
Amara crawls through the narrow duct, metal creaking beneath
her elbows.
Her breath rasps inside the mask. Behind her, the distant
claws fade - replaced by something worse.
Gunfire. Short bursts. Then screams.
The sound ricochets through the vents - human and not quite
human all at once.
She freezes, listening.
One scream cuts short - replaced by a wet tearing sound and a
chorus of low, animal howls.
The air pressure shifts, vibrating around her.
The hum under everything surges - deep, rising, everywhere.
A heavy explosion rattles the vent. Dust rains down.
Through the slats ahead, flashes of light strobe against the
walls.
Amara inches forward and peers through a grate.
HER POV – BELOW
The lower floor is a warzone.
Draven's soldiers in exo-suits sweep the room, flamethrowers
roaring.
Mutated forms charge from the shadows - some crawling, some
sprinting - all fused with plant matter that thickens as they
move.
Bullets tear through them, but the wounds knit back together
with pulsing light.
SOLDIER #1
Fall back! Burn everything-!
Flames bloom across the walls. The vines seize and tear, a
sound halfway between static and pain.
The air itself seems to recoil.
Amara clamps her hands over her ears. It's unbearable - human
pain, animal rage, and the low hum twisting through it all.
A panel buckles under her. She gasps and scrambles forward,
crawling faster.
The vent forks - one path collapsed, the other sloping
upward. She climbs, metal groaning under her knees.
Another explosion - BOOM - and the vent behind her caves in
with fire and debris.
She throws herself toward the light ahead.
EXT. EVOGEN RESEARCH TOWER – SIDE EXIT – CONTINUOUS
She bursts out through a rusted maintenance duct and tumbles
onto the overgrown street.
The world outside is chaos: vines whipping across asphalt,
roots tearing through abandoned cars.
Overhead, a dropship spirals down in flames.
Amara scrambles to her feet and runs.
All around her, the city moves like one living organism -
Verdance veins shuddering with every distant impact.
The pulse flickers through windows, the usual green glow now
streaked with red from fires.
She ducks behind an overturned transport as a squad of
soldiers barrels past, firing into the distance.
Mutated humans charge them from the opposite side - dozens,
maybe hundreds.
The sounds blend: gunfire, roars, shrieks, and the constant
low hum under everything.
Amara covers her ears, trembling. She can't tell which side
is winning.
A scream erupts right behind her - she spins, knife ready-
A hand grabs her, yanking her backward into a dark doorway.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Dystopian"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
Silent Tension
INT. ABANDONED BUILDING – CONTINUOUS
The door slams shut.
Amara twists, ready to strike, but a man's voice hisses:
STRANGER
(whispering)
Quiet-! Don't move.
She freezes. The stranger presses her back against the wall,
finger to his lips.
Through the cracks in the boarded window, flashes of fire
paint their faces.
Outside, soldiers and mutants tear into each other.
Screams blend with gunfire until it's just one wall of noise.
Inside, silence except for their breathing.
The stranger peers out, waiting for the worst of it to pass.
Amara finally exhales, pulling her hand off the knife handle.
AMARA
(hoarse whisper)
Who are you?
STRANGER
Someone who still wants to live
through this.
He glances at the insignia on her torn suit - the faded
Evogen logo.
His expression hardens.
STRANGER (CONT'D)
You shouldn't be here, lady.
Not wearing that.
Outside, the night burns.
A low vibration thrums under the floor again - steadying,
slowing.
Amara stares through the crack in the door, watching the
creatures drift back toward the tower.
Her voice trembles.
AMARA
They're not just attacking.
They're guarding something.
The stranger studies her - confused, unsettled.
STRANGER
What the hell are you talking
about?
AMARA
(quietly)
I think... they're trying to keep
us from tearing it apart.
The sound outside settles into a low, steady pulse.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Dystopian"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Confrontation in the Ashes
INT. ABANDONED BUILDING – CONTINUOUS
The walls tremble from distant detonations. Ash and faint
glowing flecks drift through cracked windows, hanging in the
half-light.
The stranger steps back from the door, scanning the street
with a small handheld sensor - scavenged military tech,
dented but working.
STRANGER
(under his breath)
Movement's slowing. Think they're
pulling back.
Amara edges closer to the window.
Outside, the street is wrecked - vehicles overturned, vines
smoking, soldiers' bodies half-absorbed by growth that keeps
spreading over them like slow fire.
The whole block looks alive - and wrong.
AMARA
They're not retreating. They're
regrouping.
The stranger glances at her, skeptical.
STRANGER
Yeah? You sound like you know them.
Amara's eyes stay on the street.
AMARA
I knew the people who made this.
(beat)
Who made them.
The stranger lets out a dry laugh - more disbelief than
humor.
STRANGER
Evogen. Of course. The ones who
thought they could outsmart the
planet.
AMARA
(quietly)
I am Evogen.
That stops him cold. His hand goes to his weapon.
STRANGER
You're joking.
She raises her hands - calm, exhausted rather than defensive.
AMARA
Not anymore.
Whatever they turned it into... I
walked away long before this.
He studies her. The gun doesn't lower, but his stance softens
a notch.
STRANGER
Name.
AMARA
Dr. Amara Sloane.
Recognition flickers - anger tangled with something like
pity.
STRANGER
You're the one they said started
it.
The "Green War." The one who turned
people into fertilizer.
Amara flinches, but doesn't argue.
AMARA
That's not what Verdance was meant
to be.
Under their feet, a low vibration thickens again - steady,
rhythmic, pulsing through the floorboards.
The light through the cracks shifts, green glow edging toward
a slow amber, like the whole city turning its attention in
one direction.
STRANGER
Then tell that to the ones it took.
He moves to the back of the room, rummaging through a pack.
He tosses her a canteen.
STRANGER (CONT'D)
You've been breathing filtered air
too long. Hydrate or you'll black
out in ten minutes.
Amara hesitates, then drinks - small, careful sips. Her eyes
stay on the burned skyline beyond the broken window.
AMARA
What's your name?
STRANGER
Jalen.
AMARA
You military?
JALEN
Was. Before they started paying us
to burn everything green.
Now I just try to stay one step
ahead of both sides.
A distant boom rolls across the horizon. Both of them look up
- a dull red glow pulsing over the city.
JALEN (CONT'D)
Verdance core's waking up again.
That's where they'll be heading
next.
AMARA
Who?
JALEN
Draven's people.
He's still got units out there -
thinks he can put the genie back in
the bottle if he finds the source.
Amara's expression hardens - grief cooling into fury.
AMARA
Draven's the reason it evolved. He
cut corners, ignored containment
protocols-
JALEN
Yeah, well, he's not the one half
the world turned into fertilizer.
The vibration deepens - rolling through the building like a
slow wave underfoot.
Amara and Jalen trade a look.
AMARA
It's moving.
JALEN
What is?
AMARA
Verdance.
It's not lashing out. It's...
shifting. Answering what they're
doing to it.
Jalen stares out the window, unnerved by how she says it -
like she can feel it.
JALEN
You talk like it's alive.
AMARA
It is.
Another explosion flares in the distance - a flash of orange
lighting their faces.
JALEN
Then you'd better hope it doesn't
know we're here.
The low vibration steadies, sinking back into the floor.
AMARA
It already does.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Dystopian","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
Into the Depths of Verdance
INT. ABANDONED BUILDING – CONTINUOUS
The hum fades to a low, steady vibration underfoot.
Outside, the last echoes of gunfire die. Smoke drifts past
the shattered window.
JALEN
We can't stay here.
If this much growth wakes up, this
block's dead in an hour.
AMARA
Where do you go when there's
nowhere left?
He shoulders his pack, checking the corridor.
JALEN
Underground. There's a tunnel
network - old subway junctions.
A few of us turned them into safe
zones.
He hesitates, eyeing her suit - the torn Evogen patch.
JALEN (CONT'D)
You come, you stay quiet. No one
down there owes Evogen mercy.
Amara nods - weary, grateful, resigned.
They move.
EXT. CITY STREETS – CONTINUOUS
They slip through alleyways choked with vines and dust.
Every step triggers faint light under the pavement - the
Verdance pulse flaring where it's thickest.
Distant roars echo through the ruins - not animal, not human.
Jalen gestures her low behind a crushed transit car.
Through the haze they glimpse mutated silhouettes feeding on
torn growth and debris - some human-shaped, others barely
recognizable.
They move in groups, faint light pulsing under their skin.
JALEN
They only hunt when the core calls.
Rest of the time they just... wait.
AMARA
Waiting for what?
JALEN
For orders.
For a world that doesn't need us
anymore.
He motions forward - a rusted subway entrance ahead, half-
buried in overgrowth.
DISSOLVE TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Post-Apocalyptic","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
Confrontation in the Shadows
INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL – LATER
Dim lanterns. Old generator hum.
They descend into a hidden enclave - a handful of survivors,
scavengers, medics, kids.
Makeshift gardens sprout in cracked concrete troughs, growing
under filtered lamps.
Every face turns when they see Amara - her Evogen emblem
catching in the low light.
SURVIVOR #1
What the hell is she doing here?
Tension crackles.
Jalen steps between them.
JALEN
She's not one of Draven's.
She's trying to stop him.
Murmurs ripple - disbelief, fear, anger.
A woman with a scarred respirator steps forward - CANDICE,
mid-40s, calm but edged from years of survival.
CANDICE
If she built it, she fixes it.
Otherwise, she doesn't stay.
Amara meets her stare - exhausted but resolute.
AMARA
Then tell me what you know about
Draven's last transmission.
A beat.
Candice exchanges a look with Jalen, then pulls a cracked
datapad from her coat.
CANDICE
Came through three nights ago. He's
alive.
And he says he found the Core.
Amara's eyes harden - realization dawning.
AMARA
Then we don't have much time.
The vibration beneath them deepens, echoing through the
tunnel like distant thunder in the bones of the earth.
Dust drifts from the ceiling. A few lanterns flicker.
The sound fades - but not completely. It lingers, like
pressure pushing through the walls.
CANDICE
That's new. It's never come this
far down.
JALEN
Verdance is expanding again.
AMARA
Not expanding. Searching.
Candice crosses her arms, studying her.
CANDICE
You talk like it knows where to
look.
AMARA
It's following energy sources.
Movement, heat - anything alive.
(beat)
Draven's broadcasts are feeding it.
That lands heavy. A few survivors glance uneasily at the
ceiling.
JALEN
You're saying it's... hunting?
AMARA
No. It's calling.
Silence. Then a deep metallic groan from above - distant but
massive.
CANDICE
We've got sensors up top. If it's
shifting that close, we'll see it.
She turns to a young boy at a console - SURVIVOR TECH, barely
twenty, wiry and sleep-deprived.
CANDICE (CONT'D)
Pull the last surface scans. North
sector.
He types fast. The monitor stutters, static-heavy - then
resolves into an aerial feed from a scavenged drone:
streets overrun with luminous vines, bodies cocooned upright
in walls of growth, still faintly breathing.
The survivors recoil.
JALEN
Jesus...
AMARA
They're not dead. Verdance uses
them to move nutrients - same with
animals, maybe even pressure in the
air.
CANDICE
You sound proud.
AMARA
I sound horrified.
A sudden bang - something striking the outer hatch. Everyone
jumps.
Candice signals lights out. The lanterns dim.
Another hit - louder. Then silence.
They wait. Even breathing sounds too loud.
SURVIVOR TECH
(low)
Motion's fading. Whatever it was...
it's gone.
Candice exhales slowly, lowering her weapon.
CANDICE
We're moving base tomorrow. South
tunnels. Verdance won't stop
growing.
Amara shakes her head.
AMARA
You can't keep running. The Core's
already adapting to find you.
Candice gives her a sharp look.
CANDICE
Then tell us where to go, Doctor.
A tense silence. Finally-
AMARA
(quiet)
To Draven. He started this... and
he's the only one who knows how
deep it goes.
(MORE)
AMARA (CONT'D)
If we want to stop it, we have to
find him first.
DISSOLVE TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Dystopian","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
Beneath the Surface
INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL – MAKESHIFT COMMAND AREA – LATER
Lanterns burn lower now - power rationed.
Maps, scavenged terminals, and faded blueprints are spread
across an old maintenance table.
CANDICE, JALEN, and AMARA stand over them. A few survivors
hover in the background, listening.
CANDICE
The last verified ping came from
the lower city. Old grid sector
seven.
Evogen's bunker sits right beneath
it.
JALEN
That place was sealed when the
breach hit. Nobody goes down there.
AMARA
Draven would. He built failsafes
for himself. He wouldn't risk
infection.
Candice studies her, skeptical.
CANDICE
You really think he's still human?
AMARA
I think he's alive. That's worse.
A quiet murmur passes among the group.
SURVIVOR #1
You're asking us to walk through
half the city. You've seen what's
up there.
AMARA
I have.
And if we don't get to that bunker,
there won't be a city left to hide
under.
Candice leans on the table, staring at the map. The vibration
beneath them swells for a moment, then settles.
CANDICE
You'll need a path clear of the
growth zones.
We've got one - but it cuts
straight through downtown.
JALEN
That's open ground. No cover.
AMARA
Then we move at dawn. Verdance
quiets when the light hits full
spectrum.
Candice looks at her - still suspicious, but pragmatic.
CANDICE
You get us there alive, Doctor, and
maybe I'll start believing you
didn't mean for this to happen.
AMARA
Believe what you want.
I just mean to end it.
A long beat. Then Jalen grabs a pack, checking his weapon.
JALEN
Then we move at first light.
The generator sputters, the tunnel dimming toward darkness -
and for a moment, all anyone can hear is the low, steady
vibration under the earth.
DISSOLVE TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Dystopian","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
Verdance's Heart
EXT. CITY STREETS – DAWN
The sky glows a deep turquoise-gray - calm, but subtly
shifting under the clouds.
Light bleeds through the mist in pale ribbons, catching faint
Verdance dust that hangs in the air.
Vines lace through the husks of buildings, blooming with slow
pulses of light.
Car skeletons lie half-buried in moss, chrome warped and sunk
into the soil.
A sweet, wet scent clings to everything - part blossom, part
rot.
Bird-like shapes cross the skyline, wings trailing thin
threads of green fire.
For every sign of life, there's another of death - bones
swallowed by roots, faces half-etched into bark.
It's beautiful. Terrifying.
The world has grown back - just not for us.
EXT. CITY OUTSKIRTS – CONTINUOUS
Jalen leads Amara and a small group of survivors - including
Candice - through the ruins.
They move cautiously, weapons and tools drawn, every step
chosen carefully on overgrown asphalt.
A single misstep can wake the ground.
Small noises fill the silence - Verdance dust hissing as it
shifts, vines creaking as they stretch.
A distant, low call echoes - not quite human, not quite
animal. Everyone freezes.
CANDICE
(whisper)
Don't touch the roots. They
remember.
Amara glances down - a faint glow pulsing beneath her boot,
tracking her movement like a heartbeat.
She lifts her foot. The light fades.
They move on - past walls with faint silhouettes of people
fused into them, faces serene as if caught mid-breath before
the plants took them.
JALEN
(quietly, to Amara)
Draven's last signal came from the
upper sector.
If he's really there, that's
Verdance's heart now.
Amara looks toward the horizon - where the sky glows a shade
brighter, the light slowly thickening in one direction.
AMARA
Then that's where we go.
The group exchanges wary glances - it's suicide, and they
know it.
Behind them, the city shifts - leaves rustling, petals
folding.
A low hum rolls across the ruins again, distant but growing.
DISSOLVE TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Dystopian","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
Echoes of Verdance
EXT. CITY OUTSKIRTS – LATER
They move through a narrow street swallowed by vegetation.
Once storefronts, now hollow shells threaded with roots.
Old billboards - half-dissolved faces - grin down through the
fog.
Every few feet, the ground gives a soft thud, like something
large shifting far beneath.
A rhythm that never breaks.
Candice checks a motion tracker. It pings once, then dies -
the signal drowned by static.
CANDICE
(under breath)
Verdance is jamming us again.
JALEN
Then we trust eyes and instinct.
Amara crouches near a wall where faint handprints shimmer
under the moss.
Not fossilized - fresh. Moist.
She brushes a finger over one, then jerks back. The print
pulses faintly, like pressure pushing through stone.
AMARA
It's mapping movement. It's
learning how to find us.
CANDICE
Then we move before it finishes.
They push forward, skirting around a derelict transport bus
fused into a tree trunk.
Inside - human silhouettes half-swallowed by bark, their
faces frozen mid-scream.
Candice forces herself not to look.
Jalen mutters a quiet curse.
From above - a chirring sound.
They freeze.
A creature clings to a wall - humanoid, but its limbs are
twisted with vines, skin rough and cracked like bark.
When it moves, its joints creak softly like branches.
It tilts its head, scenting the air.
CANDICE (CONT'D)
(whispers)
Runner. Don't breathe.
The creature's head snaps in their direction - blind eyes
glowing faint green.
Amara tightens her grip on her knife.
Then - gunfire.
Three bursts crack through the air. The creature shrieks and
falls - but the gunfire keeps going, echoing down the street.
Jalen looks up sharply.
JALEN
Those aren't ours.
AMARA
Draven's soldiers.
CANDICE
Then they've found something worth
guarding.
Another explosion shakes the block. Leaves fall like ash.
They take cover as an aerial drone - rusted but functional -
swoops overhead, its red scanner beam slicing through the
fog.
JALEN
Move!
They sprint between wreckage, dodging the drone's light,
disappearing into a collapsed overpass.
The hum of Verdance deepens - louder now, rolling through the
wreckage.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Dystopian"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
Echoes of Verdance
EXT. COLLAPSED OVERPASS – CONTINUOUS
The team drops beneath the broken concrete, breaths ragged.
Above them, the world erupts.
Gunfire.
Screams.
Something inhuman shrieking back.
A sound rises through it all - deep, layered, vibrating
through bone.
It's not language. It's thousands of echoes merging -
pleading, wailing, clashing together.
Human tones. Animal cries. Verdance vibrations, resonant and
electric.
The air seems to ripple. Dust falls from the ceiling.
CANDICE
(covering her ears)
What is that-
JALEN
It's everywhere - it's in the noise
Amara clamps her hands over her mask's filters. Her eyes
widen as the pitch shifts - not words, just feeling.
Agony.
Ruin.
Loss.
The ground jumps as a drone crashes above them - the
explosion flashing green instead of orange.
Luminous Verdance dust bursts from the wreckage, raining down
in drifting clouds that shimmer like fireflies.
Through the gaps in the concrete, they see flashes of the
street:
Mutated figures - human and animal - surging toward Draven's
soldiers.
Not attacking blindly. Holding the line.
Every scream that follows carries both pain and raw fury - as
if the whole planet's hurt is bleeding through the fight.
The survivors duck lower. Candice's hands shake around her
rifle.
Amara looks up, frozen - the chorus building to a crescendo
that rattles her lungs.
The sound cuts off - abrupt silence.
Then, faintly, the hum returns - slow, deep, deliberate.
AMARA
(hoarse whisper)
It knows they're here.
A shadow passes above them - too fast, too fluid.
Jalen motions for quiet, holding up two fingers.
He crawls forward to peek through the rubble.
What's left of Draven's soldiers are being dragged into the
vines - their bodies swallowed, armor splitting under living
roots.
The forest of growth above them seems to move as one.
CANDICE
(quiet, terrified)
We can't stay here.
Amara stares through the cracks - the glow reflecting in her
eyes.
AMARA
No...
(beat)
We have to see what they found.
THROUGH THE RUBBLE – CONTINUOUS
The small group edge forward, peering through a jagged slit
of concrete.
Draven's soldiers fall back in a tight line, firing blind
into the green haze.
Vines coil up their legs, slip beneath armor plates, pull.
A soldier's visor fogs - then spider-cracks as roots press
from the inside.
The street answers in a roar: human cries, animal bellows...
and under it, a rising thread of voices - high, small,
breaking.
Amara flinches. The pendant at her neck gives a faint pulse
of light - one beat, then another - like a tiny heartbeat
against her skin.
A contour inside the chorus - familiar. The way a child once
tried not to cry.
Her breath snags.
AMARA
(so quiet)
...Nia?
The pendant warms once, then goes dim as the sound is
swallowed by the mass of voices.
A runner-creature vaults a car, hits a soldier mid-torso;
bark-skin splits, blossoms flare, the two vanish under a knot
of moving green.
CANDICE
We're exposed. We move now.
JALEN
Wait - look.
He points. Amid the chaos, one soldier crawls, dragging a
hard case stamped with EVOGEN tags.
A vine spears the latch. The case pops. Inside: a compact
relay beacon, blinking weakly.
Another blast. The soldier disappears beneath the roots.
The beacon skitters across the asphalt, blinking toward a
service door, half-buried in moss.
The collective sound cuts, like a breath held. The hum
resumes - low, steady, everywhere.
Amara can't tear her eyes from the street - the echo of that
familiar cadence already gone, swallowed by the mass of
voices.
AMARA
(hoarse)
That beacon - Draven's people were
guarding it.
CANDICE
Or following it.
JALEN
Either way, it leads down.
A drone's red scan sweeps the overpass gap. They drop flat.
Silence, except the bass throb in the concrete.
CANDICE
On my count. We cut across, take
the hatch, and pray it's not fused.
She meets Amara's eyes - testing resolve.
Amara nods once, jaw set.
CANDICE (CONT'D)
Three... two... go.
They explode from cover, sprinting through drifting Verdance
dust.
Boots slap wet moss. The beacon blinks them on, a metronome
in the smoke.
A runner screeches behind them. Jalen turns, fires two tight
shots - enough to stagger it.
Candice yanks the hatch wheel. It groans, gives. A cold draft
rises from below.
They drop into the dark one by one.
INT. SERVICE TUNNEL – CONTINUOUS
Stale air. Dripping water. The city's roar muffled to a slow,
steady thrum.
Above, the chorus resumes - distant, layered, everywhere.
Amara eases the hatch shut. Keeps her palm on the metal,
listening - trying to catch that tiny, once-familiar rhythm
in the storm.
The pendant at her neck flickers once - soft green - then
settles, cool.
JALEN
(low)
You with us?
She nods, swallows it, shoulders the relay case.
AMARA
Let's see what he was trying to
reach.
They move. The lantern skims along old maintenance arrows now
furred with fine green threads - each one pointing the same
way. Down.
Far ahead, a low red glow - emergency lighting, barely alive.
CANDICE
Keep your feet light. Floor's soft
in places.
They pass a wall where moss has grown over a faded EVOGEN
logo. Someone's hand has smeared mud across it into an "X."
The chorus above swells, then thins - like it's sweeping the
sector.
JALEN
He's running a line straight under
the block. He wanted a clean path.
AMARA
Or a last one.
A rustle up ahead. They freeze. The lantern finds a tangle of
vines hanging from the ceiling - then the vines retract,
spider-quick, vanishing into cracks.
They keep moving.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Dystopian"]
Ratings
Scene
37 -
Echoes of the Past
INT. RELAY SUB-STATION – MINUTES LATER
A square room of concrete and rust. A dead control rack
against one wall, patched with scrap panels. An old satellite
dish leans inside the room, jury-rigged to a crate of
batteries.
Draven's flag - a simple black tag marked D - dangles off a
cable tie.
CANDICE
(under breath)
He was here.
On a worktop: a rough paper map. Circles, arrows, a line
marked "CORE VECTOR?"
Everything points deeper, toward downtown.
Jalen checks a corner: three spent shell casings. A smear of
dark green.
JALEN
They fought here. Didn't win long.
Amara kneels at the rack, opens a hatch. Inside - fresh
wiring braided with fine roots like hair. The roots twitch
toward her fingers, then still.
AMARA
He tried to talk to it. Or track
it.
CANDICE
Can you make that thing sing?
AMARA
I can make it listen.
She unclips the relay case, patches cables into the rack.
The pendant at her neck flickers again - soft, then quiet.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(quiet)
Focus...
She tucks the pendant away and powers the rack. Dim LEDs wink
to life. A thin tone holds under the background hum.
The batteries groan. The rack coughs awake: a shaky row of
LEDs, the tone barely steady under Verdance's low vibration.
ON THE PAPER MAP: a hand-drawn grid. "TOWER RUINS" and "SUB
LINE C" circled. A smaller note: "DRAVEN HOLD – LOWER
STORAGE."
CANDICE
He carved himself a bunker. Of
course he did.
JALEN
If he's sitting on the Core line,
he'll see us coming.
AMARA
Then we don't come loud.
She dials the relay. Static. A wash of sound floods the room
- layered voices, animal roars, breath, weeping - everything
at once, everywhere at once.
Amara flinches. The pendant warms.
Within the storm - just for a heartbeat - a clear, tiny gasp
that is entirely human. Then gone.
She steadies.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(soft, to herself)
I hear you.
CANDICE
You hear trouble. Pack it up. We
move.
The sound swells - pain stacked on pain, warnings tangled
with animal cries, like a storm forced down a narrow hall. No
words - just impact.
The relay screen jitters and resolves into a simple pulse -
three blips, pause, three blips - repeating. Not random. A
beacon.
JALEN
He's pinging something. Or
something's pinging him.
AMARA
Direction?
Jalen points at the map's "SUB LINE C."
JALEN
Down that way. Two levels.
A distant howl rolls through the tunnels. The room vibrates.
Dust sifts from the ceiling. The chorus above swells again,
rising.
CANDICE
Time's up.
Amara kills the relay. The low Verdance hum seeps back in to
fill the silence.
For a beat, no one speaks. Dust hangs in the air like ash.
Somewhere above, something heavy drags across stone - slow,
deliberate - then stops.
They shoulder packs. Jalen takes point, Candice rear guard.
Amara pockets the map, fingers brushing the "CORE VECTOR?"
note.
INT. SERVICE TUNNEL – CONTINUOUS
They hustle past a caved section where roots dangle like
curtains.
From behind the roots, a shape moves - slow, listening. They
slide by without breathing.
Ahead - stairs drop into dark.
JALEN
Sub-line C. Stay tight.
They descend.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Post-Apocalyptic"]
Ratings
Scene
38 -
Echoes in the Dark
INT. SUB-LINE C – LOWER – CONTINUOUS
Older. Wetter. The air tastes sweet and wrong.
The walls glisten with thin green film. Footprints - boot
treads - lead ahead, overlapped by bare prints... and
something hoof-like pressed into the slick.
CANDICE
Draven's boys. And not alone.
They pass a broken service cart. On it - Evogen med packs, a
box of flares, and a handheld jammer with a cracked screen
labeled "VE-MUFFLER."
AMARA
He figured out the song hurts to
hear.
She pockets the jammer.
A HEADLIGHT SWEEP crosses a turn ahead - white, clean. Not
theirs.
Jalen drops, signals down.
JALEN
People.
VOICES echo - sharp, disciplined. Boots. The metallic sound
of a mag being slammed home.
SOLDIER (O.S.)
Sector clear. Move the rig.
A low ENGINE WHINE starts - the kind you feel in your bones.
Candice motions: fall back. They retreat into a side alcove -
an old supply recess.
Two SOLDIERS (masked, armored) pass with a wheeled case
between them. The case hums. Its side panel reads "CORE PROX
SCANNER."
Behind them, a CAPTAIN, visor up - hard eyes, old scar.
CAPTAIN
Bunker relay in twenty. No strays.
If you see the doctor, you shoot to
kneel.
The squad moves on.
Jalen and Candice trade a look: the doctor.
CANDICE
(whisper, to Amara)
That you.
Amara nods once - jaw tight.
She pulls the cracked jammer, thumbs it on. It warbles, then
stabilizes, laying a thin blanket of white noise over the
background hum.
AMARA
This buys us a few minutes of
quiet.
JALEN
Enough to rob them?
AMARA
Enough to follow them.
The pendant flickers again - two quick flashes. Amara's
breath catches, but she clamps it down and gestures forward.
They slip from the alcove, moving after the squad - silent,
close to the wall.
Up ahead, the tunnel opens into a larger chamber - arches,
old tile, now veined with roots.
The soldiers fan out, set the SCANNER case in the center. The
Captain checks a wrist unit that projects a faint cone of
light; Verdance vines flinch from it.
CAPTAIN
Bring me the signal. I want a lock.
The box answers with a thin, needle-whine. The roots in the
ceiling tense like tendons.
From the far side of the chamber, a low group moan builds -
human throats, animal chuffing, wind through leaves - rising
into a single, crushing wave.
The SCANNER wakes - soft lights crawling. A thin thread of
sound rises, cutting through the jammer's hiss.
The roots along the ceiling tighten, then ease, as if
bracing, then recognizing.
The soldiers tense. Guns up.
JALEN
(whisper)
Back. Now.
They ease behind a cracked pillar as SHAPES drift into view
at the edge of the light - people once, now grown through.
Eyes pale. Skin leaf-veined. Moving together like a school of
fish.
The pendant warms against Amara's skin. She stills, pressing
it flat.
Within the rising wall of voices, one thin note threads
through - a child's breath caught on a half-sob. Her pendant
flashes twice against her suit, warm as a living pulse.
Amara's eyes shine for half a second. She says nothing.
CAPTAIN
Fire at will!
Gunfire rips the chamber. The chorus surges - fury, grief, a
wind that sounds like a scream.
Amara closes her eyes - only for a heartbeat - then opens
them, all steel.
AMARA
(whisper)
Move with the breaks in fire. We
shadow the scanner, not the guns.
CANDICE
Go.
They slip along the rim as the battle explodes - soldiers
firing, mutants surging, roots lashing like whips. The
SCANNER case keeps humming, unbothered - its lights locking
to a narrow arrow pointing deeper into the dark.
JALEN
There. Follow that.
They ghost behind shattered tile and root-thick columns,
always a step from being seen, the jammer's thin hush barely
holding back Verdance's noise.
As they reach the far exit, a mutant turns - face half-bark,
half-girl - head tilting like she's listening for a name.
Amara's hand flies to the pendant.
JALEN (CONT'D)
(urgent whisper)
Don't.
The mutant's head snaps toward gunfire instead. It rushes
past them into the storm.
Amara exhales, shaking.
They slip through the exit, swallowed by dark.
Behind them, the voices crash into gunfire and then cut off
all at once - as if the sound was pulled straight out of the
room.
CUT TO:
INT. UTILITY SPINE – CONTINUOUS
Narrow service tunnel. Pipes sweat. The floor is slick with a
thin green film.
Up ahead, the EVOGEN relay beacon lies on its side, still
blinking - leading deeper.
Jalen scoops it, kills the light with a thumb press.
JALEN
No more breadcrumbs for them.
Amara points to faint drag marks on the floor - armor
scrapes, boot gouges.
AMARA
They took casualties and kept
moving. Draven's close.
A low rumble rolls through the concrete. Dust shakes loose.
The hum follows - slower, heavier.
CANDICE
Move. Before the roof decides to
grow back together.
They go.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
39 -
Navigating the Shadows
INT. LOWER JUNCTION – MOMENTS LATER
A crossway of four tunnels. Fresh sandbag wall. Tripwire
glints.
Jalen catches it with his knife.
JALEN
(quiet)
Turret ahead.
He peeks the corner - an old auto-turret welded to a cart,
jury-rigged. A dead soldier slumps beside it, half-claimed by
vines.
AMARA
Can you blind it?
CANDICE
Cover me.
Candice slides a mirror shard along the floor; the turret
tracks the reflection. Jalen lunges, tosses a tarp over the
barrel. It chokes, clicks, dies.
Amara clocks the soldier's shoulder patch: a stylized "D."
AMARA
He branded them like property.
CANDICE
Focus. Which way?
Amara listens. The vibration underfoot deepens along one path
- left.
AMARA
That way. It's stronger.
They move left.
DISSOLVE TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
40 -
Breach of the Bunker
INT. BUNKER OUTER DOOR – LATER
A thick steel hatch set in old brick. New locks welded over
old ones. A keypad screen blinks red.
Next to it, a small box with a needle antenna - a broadcast
unit, still warm.
JALEN
He's talking to someone.
AMARA
Or to it.
Candice kneels at the keypad, pulls two wires. The panel
SPARKS, then dies.
CANDICE
Not that way.
Amara studies the door frame - roots have grown along the
seam like ivy. She presses her palm near them. The hum
through the metal shifts - a slight change in pitch, closer.
Her pendant gives a small pulse.
AMARA
(soft)
I'm not here to hurt you.
For a heartbeat, the roots loosen - just a hairline.
JALEN
...Did it just-
CANDICE
Don't question it. Push.
They pry. The seam gives just enough. Air hisses from inside
- filtered, dry.
They slip through.
INT. DRAVEN'S OUTER BUNKER – CONTINUOUS
A prep corridor. Fluorescent tubes buzz. Clean walls - no
growth. The sudden absence of the hum makes your ears ring.
A rack of gear: masks, shock batons, canisters marked
"VERDANCE FOAM – CAUSTIC."
Amara's face hardens.
AMARA
He's been burning it alive.
JALEN
He's been trying to win.
Candice checks a side room - empty bunks, ration crates. One
old screen loops a muted Evogen promo: DRAVEN promising a
"safe tomorrow."
CANDICE
(chin to screen)
Tomorrow's late.
A BOOM shakes the corridor. Lights flicker. The hum seeps
back in, faint through the floor - like pressure pushing up
through the concrete.
AMARA
It feels him.
Jalen points to a heavy door ahead stamped: LOWER STORAGE –
AUTHORIZED ONLY.
JALEN
That's your man.
Candice raises three fingers - count in. They stack on the
door.
She yanks the handle. Jalen swings them through.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
41 -
The Listening Window
INT. LOWER STORAGE – CONTINUOUS
Crates. Consoles. A central table mapped with paper routes
and printed heat scans. A live monitor shows a pulsing dot -
VERDANCE concentration - under the city.
And DRAVEN.
Thinner. Hard-eyed. Wearing a tidy respirator around his neck
like jewelry. Two ARMED SOLDIERS at his flanks.
They all freeze.
DRAVEN
Well. The prodigal doctor.
Amara doesn't flinch.
AMARA
Shut down the burn teams. Now.
DRAVEN
You brought strays. How generous.
Jalen's finger tightens on his trigger. Candice doesn't lower
her rifle.
CANDICE
Open the vault, Cael.
Draven smirks at her using his name, then taps a console. A
wall panel irises open, revealing a steel cylinder wired with
cables - "CORE PROX SCANNER – MASTER."
DRAVEN
You're late, Amara. I've got
direction. Depth. Rhythm.
(beat)
All I need now is a kill window.
The floor gives a slow THUD under them - Verdance's pulse,
faint but present even here. The pendant at Amara's neck
flickers once, like a warning.
AMARA
You kill it, the people it's
holding die with it. Animals. Whole
systems.
DRAVEN
They're not people anymore.
A distant roar rolls the shelves - mutants and soldiers still
tearing each other apart somewhere above. The bunker lights
shiver.
JALEN
We're running out of upstairs.
Draven tilts his head, studying Amara like a puzzle he's
almost solved.
DRAVEN
Tell me where the heart is. I'll
make it quick. Painless, if that
comforts you.
Amara steps closer to the map - never taking her eyes off
him.
AMARA
You cut corners. You starved the
safeguards. You taught it speed.
(beat; calm)
And you still think you can
outshoot a planet learning in real
time.
He smiles, thin.
DRAVEN
I can outshoot you.
A SOLDIER pivots, weapon rising toward Jalen...
Candice moves first - a disarming cut, quick and clean. Jalen
slams the second soldier into a crate and pins him.
Draven doesn't flinch. His thumb hovers over a dead-man
switch wired to the master scanner. The pendant at Amara's
neck warms - two quick pulses. Above, the chorus swells, then
drops back - like the city is holding still.
DRAVEN (CONT'D)
Try me, Doctor.
A long beat. The hum thickens, pressing at the concrete from
below.
AMARA
(quiet, to Candice/Jalen)
We don't fight him here.
She looks straight at Draven.
AMARA (CONT'D)
You want a kill window? Help me
open a listening window first.
Show it we're not trying to wipe it
out.
(beat)
Or it'll tear us apart trying to
stay alive.
DRAVEN
You want to "talk" to the thing
that turned your child into
compost?
The line lands like a slap. Amara swallows fire - doesn't let
it show.
AMARA
I want it to stop needing to.
Silence. The hum knocks once through the floor - heavy,
close.
Candice edges to the console with the route maps.
CANDICE
There - these lines run straight
under the tower. If we patch your
scanner to broadcast instead of
track.
AMARA
-it hears us instead of hunting us.
Draven watches them link eyes, hating the idea almost as much
as he's tempted by it. Another boom topside. Dust falls.
JALEN
Pick a lane, Doc. We're out of
minutes.
Draven looks to the master unit... his thumb eases a fraction
off the switch.
DRAVEN
You get one try.
Amara is already moving - hands on the panel, flipping modes,
rerouting cables.
Candice locks the door. Jalen drags the soldiers to the wall,
zip-ties fast.
The pendant brightens - steady now. The hum builds under
their feet, coiling, waiting for whatever comes next.
AMARA
(to the room)
No weapons. No flames. No fear.
(then, into the mic)
Verdance... listen.
She breathes. The broadcast tone rises - low, human, unarmed.
The bunker lights dim... and the concrete under their feet
vibrates in answer.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
42 -
Into the Verdance
INT. DRAVEN'S BUNKER – CONTINUOUS
The broadcast tone swells - low, human, unarmed.
Dust sifts from the ceiling. The walls tremble just enough to
see it. The hum beneath their feet shifts toward the same
pitch, then settles - quieter, tuned.
Amara keeps her voice even, steady.
AMARA
We're not here to burn you. We're
here to live.
Silence.
Then a responding tone - not words, just a single held note,
higher, softer.
Jalen's eyes cut to the door.
JALEN
It heard you.
Candice watches her scope - motion spikes on the display
drop, then level out, like a storm easing.
CANDICE
Outside just dropped off. They
stopped charging.
A thin chorus rises from the floor - dozens of breaths,
layered. Among them, a tiny inhale she knows. Amara's pendant
warms once.
AMARA
(soft)
I hear you.
Draven edges closer to the master unit, jaw tight.
DRAVEN
Don't mistake quiet for consent.
A HARD THUMP hits the outer hatch - soldiers regrouping
topside. The bunker lights flicker.
Amara keeps broadcasting, adds a second, gentler tone.
AMARA
We can share the ground. Show us
how.
The floor responds with a slow, rolling vibration. On the
wall map, a cluster of lights shifts - forming a simple line
beneath the tower, then a circle. A point.
CANDICE
It's marking a path.
Draven clocks the same pattern. His thumb drifts back toward
the kill switch.
DRAVEN
Or a trap.
Jalen spots a tiny red LED blinking under Draven's wrist - an
active beacon.
JALEN
(to Amara, low)
He's pinging someone.
Amara doesn't look away from the console.
AMARA
Cael, if a strike team drops into
that circle, they won't come back
up.
Another vibration from below - this one long, like a slow
breath out. The concrete along the far wall seams loosens. A
hairline gap opens.
CANDICE
It's opening a door.
Draven flinches despite himself.
Amara dials the tone down, lifts a hand - no sudden moves.
AMARA
We come in peace. We come small.
The gap widens enough for a person to slip through, tiny
glowing spores drifting in the air.
Behind them, the OUTER DOOR slams again - closer, harder.
JALEN
Pick now.
Draven stares at the new opening... at Amara... at his
switch. He war-fights himself - and loses by a hair.
DRAVEN
One step out of line, I flood this
place with foam.
AMARA
Then stay with us. See it before
you kill it.
He hates that he nods. But he nods.
Candice fades the broadcast out. The room seems to hold still
for a beat - then the lower hum returns, steady and tense.
Amara pockets the mic, touches the warm pendant once, then
looks to Jalen and Candice.
AMARA (CONT'D)
We go quiet. No shots unless we're
eating one.
CANDICE
Copy.
Jalen checks his mag, then lowers the rifle.
JALEN
After you, Doctor.
They move to the seam.
Amara steps through first.
INT. VERDANCE ACCESS – CONTINUOUS
A narrow passage - roots braided into a tunnel, slick with
dew. The air is sweet, heavy, strangely calm.
As they pass, leaf-veins along the walls brighten, soft -
guiding them like slow fireflies.
CANDICE
Looks like it wants us to see.
A distant chorus stirs - some voices easing, others still raw
with pain from the fights above. Buried in the mix, a faint
child's exhale, here, then gone.
Amara steadies herself and keeps moving.
Behind them, Draven steps in last, eyeing every surface like
an enemy line. His thumb never strays far from the switch.
They descend.
CUT TO:
INT. VERDANCE GALLERY – MINUTES LATER
The tunnel opens into a chamber of hanging tendrils and
ribbed trunks - almost cathedral-like. Pools of clear sap
mirror their faces in ripples.
In the sap, images flutter and fade: crowds under dome light,
a greenhouse class, a girl's gloved hand holding a sprout.
Echoes, not messages.
JALEN
It remembers.
AMARA
It records to learn.
DRAVEN
It harvests.
A low wave passes through the gallery. The floor rises under
their boots, then eases back - like it's nudging them
forward.
Candice points - another "path" glows across the floor, soft
pulses leading toward a darker throat of the chamber.
CANDICE
That's our circle.
From far behind - MUFFLED GUNFIRE. Distant. Fading.
The pendant flickers twice. Amara swallows, eyes glistening
for a beat, then hardens again.
AMARA
Let's finish what we started -
right this time.
They follow the lights into the dark.
DISSOLVE TO:
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
43 -
Navigating the Verdance: A Path to Coexistence
INT. VERDANCE THRESHOLD – LATER
The passage narrows - close, warm, a steady pulse in the
walls. The hum is no longer underfoot; it's all around them.
JALEN leans to Amara, low.
JALEN
If this goes bad-
AMARA
Then we adapt or we don't make it.
Draven edges up, unable to hang back.
DRAVEN
And if "adapting" means becoming
that?
A faint tremor runs through the roots when he says it. Not
violent - just a shift, like the sound sunk in.
Amara answers the air more than him.
AMARA
It means making room.
The tunnel's pressure eases. Ahead, the dark widens - one
more space, larger, waiting.
They step through.
INT. VERDANCE CORE PERIPHERY – CONTINUOUS
A vast circular chamber. No machinery - only living
architecture. At the center, a slow, luminous organ rises and
falls like a tide under skin.
Not a brain. Not a heart. Something that learned to act like
both.
The chorus here is softer, like thousands asleep and
breathing together.
Draven's finger tightens on the switch - reflex.
DRAVEN
One squeeze and...
His words are swallowed by a single, quiet sound from the
organ - a low exhale that rolls through the room.
Amara raises a hand - no closer. She speaks simply, like to
something wild that could bolt.
AMARA
We're here.
The organ brightens a shade. Along the wall, a tendril thins
into a small "hand" of fibers and stops - reaching, not
touching.
Jalen and Candice trade a look: fear and wonder in equal
parts.
Amara opens her palm the same way, matching the distance.
AMARA (CONT'D)
Show us how to live with you.
The pendant warms - steady now. In the layered hush, that
tiny child inhale appears and disappears like a skipped beat.
On the floor, a new path glows behind them - upward, back
toward the city. Another line lights along the wall -
sideways, through outlines of old city lines barely visible
under the living weave.
CANDICE
Two ways out.
(beat)
Two choices?
Amara looks at Draven.
AMARA
We can broadcast terms. Or we can
keep trying to bury it and get
buried with it.
Draven stares at the organ - torn between the win he's chased
and the one that might actually save anyone.
The light in the chamber dips a little, holding.
JALEN
Clock's running, Doc.
Amara breathes once, decides.
AMARA
We take the side path - find a city
relay hub we can use to talk across
districts.
(to Draven)
You want victory? Help me keep
people alive long enough to hear
one.
Draven doesn't say "yes." He just moves - because not moving
is losing.
They turn to the side path. The organ brightens a fraction as
they go. The chorus swells - not a scream this time, but a
thin, fragile chord that hangs in the air.
They go.
INT. VERDANCE SIDE TUNNELS – CONTINUOUS
Close walls. Dew. The path glows softly underfoot, guiding
them sideways through old city bones.
CANDICE
How far?
AMARA
Two levels. Old muni exchange. If
it's not buried.
DRAVEN
(low, to himself)
If it's usable, it's mine.
Jalen clocks that. Says nothing. They move.
A faint chord rises around them - layers of breathing, low
and steady. The pendant warms once, then goes still.
AMARA
(under breath)
I hear you.
They press on.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
44 -
Bargaining with Verdance
INT. OLD MUNICIPAL EXCHANGE – MINUTES LATER
A buried room of dead panels and cracked glass. Roots thread
through switchboards like cobwebs. A rusted sign: CITYNET
WEST RELAY HUB.
AMARA
This is it.
Candice checks corners. Jalen drags a toppled rack aside.
Draven studies the space, measuring.
JALEN
Say you wake it. What do you ask?
AMARA
A test. A small one.
She sets her pack on a dead console, pulls a hand-sized
broadcaster, a coil of wire, a battery brick. Simple gear.
DRAVEN
What kind of test?
AMARA
To pull back for an hour. One
block. No growth, no attacks. We
help people inside it. Then we give
it back - on purpose.
DRAVEN
You're bargaining with a wildfire.
AMARA
I'm talking to a neighbor.
She looks at the living walls.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(gently)
We need a trial. One safe block.
One hour. We return it after.
The hum in the walls swells, then evens out.
CANDICE
(low)
If this works, we can move kids.
Meds. Food.
Jalen gives her the smallest nod.
The floor brightens in a thin line to a cracked conduit.
Amara smiles - thanks - and clips in.
The broadcaster wakes - soft tone. The pendant warms again,
steady.
ON A DEAD MAP SCREEN: a faint outline of surface streets
flickers to life in ghost light.
AMARA
Here we go.
She selects a small square of city.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(to Verdance, plain)
One hour. Then we close it.
A beat. The map square pulses... then dims, like breath held.
Far overhead, the low chorus drops to a hush.
CANDICE
(listening)
It listened.
JALEN
Topside?
CANDICE
We need eyes.
He nods and heads for a service stair. Candice ghosts after
him.
Draven stays with Amara - eyes on her hands, on the map, on
the pendant.
DRAVEN
You give it an inch, it takes the
lungs.
AMARA
Or we learn the rules before we
drown.
He almost argues - doesn't.
CUT TO:
EXT. CITY BLOCK – SAME TIME
Jalen and Candice emerge into light at the edge of the chosen
square.
The growth along this block slowly eases - tendrils unhooking
from doors and streetlamps, pulling back like a tide. The hum
softens.
Two SURVIVORS peek from a storefront - stunned. A third limps
into the street, coughing, then laughs - free air.
CANDICE
(into comm)
It worked. It's clear here. It's...
quiet.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Dystopian","Adventure"]
Ratings
Scene
45 -
Countdown to Peace
INT. OLD MUNICIPAL EXCHANGE – SAME
Amara exhales - relief and fear.
AMARA
(to Verdance, clear)
Thank you. One hour. We keep the
promise.
Draven watches her, jaw tight. His thumb taps a hidden beacon
on his wrist. Blink. Blink.
Amara clocks it.
AMARA (CONT'D)
Who are you calling, Cael?
DRAVEN
Insurance.
AMARA
If you bring a strike here, it
kills the deal.
DRAVEN
Deals end. Ownership stays.
He turns toward the doorway, too casual.
Amara steps between him and the exit.
AMARA
You used to care if people lived.
DRAVEN
People live when the strong decide
how.
A distant WHUMP above - rotor throb, coming closer.
JALEN
(over comm)
Bird inbound. Military. That yours?
Draven doesn't answer. He reaches for his switch.
Jalen darts back into the room, grabs Draven's wrist - hard.
JALEN (CONT'D)
Not today.
They struggle - brief, sharp. Draven slams Jalen into a rack.
The rack tips. Sparks spit.
Candice bursts in, sees it, moves. She drives her shoulder
into Draven, knocking him off balance. The switch skitters
across the floor.
AMARA
Stop!
Everyone freezes - because the room shifts.
Roots along the ceiling tense, warning. The floor gives a low
shudder.
Amara lifts both hands. Calm, steady.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(to Verdance)
We're keeping the hour. No harm. No
tricks.
The tension eases - just a hair.
Outside, the rotor throb grows - closer - then circles,
searching.
CANDICE
(to Jalen)
We hold him. We hold the hour.
Jalen pins Draven's arms behind his back. Draven glares -
murder behind glass.
DRAVEN
You don't understand scale. I do.
AMARA
Scale is families. The ones you'd
turn into leverage.
She turns back to the board - eyes on the countdown she's
set: 55:12... 55:11...
AMARA (CONT'D)
(into comm)
Candice - start moving people.
Kids, elders, anyone who can't run.
Quiet, fast. One-block safe zone.
CANDICE
On it.
(to Jalen)
Take him to the far wall. If he twitches, break the beacon.
Jalen muscles Draven back. Draven smiles, small and mean.
DRAVEN
When this hour ends, it ends you.
Amara doesn't look up.
AMARA
An hour is a life when you don't
have one.
The pendant warms again - steady, like a hand on her
shoulder.
From deep below, the chorus swells - not rage this time, but
something that feels like agreement in the way the sound
settles.
Amara keeps working. The countdown ticks.
CUT TO:
EXT. CLEAR BLOCK – DAY – MONTAGE (INTERCUT)
- Candice ushers a line of shaken SURVIVORS through a
doorway, checks masks, hands out vials.
- Jalen signals rooftops: "No shots." A lookout lowers his
rifle.
- A child steps into open air, pulls off a cracked filter,
blinks at clean light, laughs through tears.
- Along the border, Verdance growth holds its line - pulled
back, quivering, but holding.
CUT BACK TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Dystopian","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
46 -
Countdown Tensions
INT. OLD MUNICIPAL EXCHANGE – CONTINUOUS
The rotor sound fades - circling elsewhere. Draven tracks it
with a predator's ear, filing the pattern away.
Countdown: 41:19...
JALEN
We might actually pull this off.
DRAVEN
You're training it.
AMARA
We're teaching each other.
A faint tremor moves through the floor - distant impacts. Not
here. Somewhere else.
CANDICE (V.O.)
(over comm)
Small clash two streets over. Not
in the box. Holding.
AMARA
Keep them out. We can't break the
terms.
DRAVEN
(cool)
And if it does?
Amara looks at the map, at the dim square, at the thin bright
line that marks the path back down.
AMARA
Then we learn where it won't bend.
(beat)
And we plan around it.
She meets his eyes - dead center.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(low)
You want your victory, Cael? Help
keep them alive long enough to see
one.
He stares at her - at the room that responds to her and not
him. His jaw works. He looks away.
DRAVEN
Forty minutes.
AMARA
Forty minutes.
The pendant warms once more. In the hush beneath the city, a
small, familiar exhale flickers and goes.
Amara blinks hard - then sets her shoulders.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(into comm)
Candice - midpoint check in five.
Rotate water. Get names.
CANDICE (V.O.)
Copy.
Jalen eases off Draven a fraction - still ready.
The hum in the walls stays low and steady.
The countdown rolls on.
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
47 -
Countdown to Compassion
INT. OLD MUNICIPAL EXCHANGE – CONTINUOUS
Countdown: 41:05... 41:04...
CANDICE (V.O.)
(on comm)
We've got elders moving. Kids next.
Border's holding.
AMARA
Copy. Keep it quiet.
DRAVEN
(to Jalen, low)
You're really trusting a plant to
keep time?
JALEN
I'm trusting her.
A soft vibration passes underfoot - like a cat settling. The
pendant warms once, then stills.
AMARA
(quiet, to the room)
We keep the hour. We give it back.
She marks a TIMER: "RETURN CONTROL – T-15:00."
JALEN
You're giving it back early?
AMARA
We promised an hour. If we end
clean on our side, it knows we kept
our word.
DRAVEN
Or it reads that as weakness.
AMARA
Then it's the right lesson.
CANDICE (V.O.)
Heads up - border flare, north
corner. Nothing crossed. It pushed,
then stopped.
AMARA
(into comm)
Noted. Thank you.
She taps in a note: "Verdance probed - did not breach."
Draven's gaze flicks to Amara's kit. A tiny beacon - hidden
under the relay case - blinks twice. He covers it with his
boot.
A distant rattle overhead: a child's laugh, a sob. The chorus
swells, then thins - like the sound is checking back and
settling.
Countdown: 28:17...
AMARA (CONT'D)
Okay. Start winding down movement.
Last two minutes are for hand-off.
CANDICE (V.O.)
Copy. Last group lining up.
JALEN
(to Draven)
When this works, you stand down
your hunters?
DRAVEN
I secure supply. Then I consider
mercy.
Jalen's jaw tightens.
Another gentle tremor. The pendant warms brighter - two quick
beats.
AMARA
(barely a whisper)
I know.
Draven clocks her reaction.
DRAVEN
What did it just tell you?
AMARA
That it's waiting.
She keys the hand-off protocol.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(to Verdance, plain)
We're about to return the block. No
tricks. We'll ask again later.
The map square blinks, then holds dim - like breath held.
CANDICE (V.O.)
(hushed)
Doctor, hold. We've got a family
stalled at the far curb. Wheelchair
jammed. Thirty seconds away.
Amara glances at the countdown - 02:11... 02:10...
AMARA
We hold the return. Candice - move
them. We'll extend two minutes.
DRAVEN
You break your own rule and you
teach it the same.
AMARA
We teach it why.
She bumps the "RETURN" timer +02:00. Types: "Extension:
humanitarian."
The chorus thins to a single low note, steady.
CUT TO:
EXT. CLEAR BLOCK – SAME
Candice and two survivors sprint, lift the chair, roll it
through. A boy pushes from behind, jaw set.
CANDICE
Almost there - keep breathing,
you're doing good...
They cross into the clear. Everyone exhales.
CANDICE (CONT'D)
(into comm)
We're in.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
48 -
Betrayal in the Exchange
INT. OLD MUNICIPAL EXCHANGE – SAME
Amara hits "RETURN."
AMARA
Thank you. It's yours again.
On the map, the square brightens - growth flows back in, slow
and controlled, like tide reclaiming sand. The hum climbs,
then settles to baseline.
CANDICE (V.O.)
(awed)
It... let us go.
JALEN
(to Amara)
You said you'd ask again later.
AMARA
After we deliver proof.
She pulls a small drive, slots it, packages the "we kept the
promise" log, and sets the broadcaster to passive.
A faint CLICK under the relay case.
Jalen's eyes cut to Draven's boot.
JALEN
Move it.
He kicks the case - reveals the blinking tag.
JALEN (CONT'D)
(to Draven)
What is that?
DRAVEN
(cool)
A guarantee this effort isn't
wasted.
AMARA
You called them.
DRAVEN
They were always coming. Now they
can find something that matters.
The hum under the floor drops, lower and rougher.
AMARA
(into comm)
Candice - shut the surface lanes.
We're compromised.
CANDICE (V.O.)
Copy. Pulling people below.
A far-off sting of gunfire. Then another. Then shouting.
JALEN
(to Amara)
We move now.
Amara grabs the drive, the case, slings her pack.
AMARA
We head for the Core. If he led
them here, they'll burn this site.
DRAVEN
(calm, dangerous)
Or they'll finally end this.
JALEN
You're coming with us.
He zip-ties Draven's wrists, hauls him forward.
The pendant flashes - quick, urgent.
AMARA
(to the room)
We're leaving. We'll come back with
better terms.
The hum tightens, like a held breath.
They go.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
49 -
Shadows in the Tunnels
EXT. SERVICE ACCESS – MINUTES LATER
They emerge into a narrow service alley swallowed by vines.
Distant smoke. Bird-like shapes wheel overhead.
CANDICE (O.S.)
(joining)
Last families are down. We've got
twenty-three inside. Med tent's up.
AMARA
Good. We're not done helping them.
But first...
She looks east - toward the deep city.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(firm)
...I need to talk to it.
CANDICE
You really think it'll answer?
A slow wind moves the leaves. The pendant glows once.
AMARA
I think it already did.
Off that: a low BOOM. Dust shakes from a building two blocks
over.
JALEN
That's Draven's team.
CANDICE
We take the tunnels.
AMARA
We take him, too.
She looks Draven in the eye.
AMARA (CONT'D)
You wanted the Core. You can watch
what "ending it" really looks like.
He smiles - thin.
DRAVEN
Lead on.
They slip into shadow.
INT. SERVICE ACCESS TUNNEL – CONTINUOUS
Narrow, damp. Their footsteps whisper.
Draven walks just behind Amara, wrists zip-tied in front. His
eyes keep sliding to the relay case on Jalen's back.
As they pass a support beam, he shifts his bound hands, palms
a thumb-sized tracker from his sleeve and bumps it under the
case handle - a tiny click, almost nothing.
Candice catches the motion. She files it away, saying
nothing... yet.
A low swell of sound moves through the concrete - not words,
but grief, heat, wind, a hundred breaths layered together.
Amara's pendant gives a faint pulse. She swallows and keeps
moving.
JALEN
Left split drops faster.
They take it.
INT. MAINTENANCE ARTERY – MOMENTS LATER
Long, ribbed tunnel. Water drips. Roots thread the ceiling
like veins.
Ahead, shapes cross the junction - human once, now grown
through. They move as one, heads tilting like they're
listening to something far away.
Candice raises a hand: still.
The chorus swells, then dips, like a tide. The shapes glide
past without seeing them.
One pauses at the mouth of the tunnel. It turns toward
them... inhales...
...and moves on.
Amara lets out a tight breath.
DRAVEN
(low, easy)
They track vibration more than
light. Keep your weight soft.
Jalen throws him a look - how does he know that? Draven just
smiles.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Adventure"]
Ratings
Scene
50 -
Echoes of Deception
INT. FLOODED GALLERY – LATER
Shallow water. Old tile under a skin of green. Foam scars
cling to the walls from some long-ago "clean."
They wade through, steps sending slow ripples across the
surface.
Draven hangs back half a beat, lifting his bound hands to his
sleeve. He leans close to the cuff, barely a breath.
DRAVEN
(into cuff)
Hold perimeter. Do not fire unless
my tag stops moving.
He catches up like nothing happened.
AMARA
If you're calling friends, say it
now.
DRAVEN
I'm making sure your hour holds.
You asked for it.
Candice clocks that, says nothing.
A low change runs through the background hum. The pendant
flickers - two fast beats. Amara slows.
AMARA
It's close.
She looks toward a darker arch at the far side of the
gallery. The sound is clearer there.
They head for the arch, water lapping at their boots.
CUT TO:
INT. LISTENING CHAMBER – CONTINUOUS
A round room. Walls ribbed with roots. The sound in here is
different - concentrated, like standing inside a chest.
Amara steps to the wall. The pendant lights once. The roots
ripple under her palm, then settle.
The chorus gathers. Not words. Layers: a laugh buried in
weeping, a gasp, a hush. In that tangle - one tiny, familiar
breath that hits her like a knife.
She doesn't say the name. She just steadies.
AMARA
(soft, to the room)
I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here
to listen.
A faint pattern moves under the bark - almost a face, gone as
soon as it's there.
Behind them, metal clinks. Something small drops from
Draven's bound hands - a flare - and rolls to a stop on the
floor.
It hisses bright.
The chamber reacts - roots tense, the chorus spikes. From the
dark, figures rush the light.
JALEN
Move!
He shoulders the relay. Candice yanks Amara back.
Draven steps away from the others, calm in the chaos.
DRAVEN
(into cuff; to squad)
Eyes on my tag. I'm on the trail.
They sprint toward a narrow throat of tunnel as the first
mutant hits the flare, screams, and the room explodes with
sound.
INT. NARROW PASSAGE – CONTINUOUS
Tight. Wet. They squeeze through single file.
The pendant heats against Amara's skin, then cools. The
chorus chases them, close, then far, then close again, like
breathing.
They spill out into...
INT. SWITCHBACK STAIRS – CONTINUOUS
A steep concrete stair spiraling down.
CANDICE
Go! Go!
Jalen plants his boots and covers as Amara and Candice take
the first flight.
Overhead, in the gallery they just left, a recon drone buzzes
past, its search beam scraping the doorway.
Draven steps onto the stairs last. He looks up into the
light, then down into the dark, weighing both.
DRAVEN
(pleasant, to himself)
Show me where you live.
He starts down.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Adventure"]
Ratings
Scene
51 -
The Sump Crossing: Secrets Beneath
INT. SUMP CROSSING – MINUTES LATER
A narrow catwalk over black water. The air is sweet and
wrong.
On the far side: a wall of living growth, thick as a curtain.
Amara's pendant glows. The curtain loosens for a breath, just
enough to show a narrow path through.
Everyone freezes.
JALEN
(low)
Did it just... let us in?
Amara doesn't answer. She lifts the pendant a little. The
opening holds, barely.
Behind them, distant shouts echo. Draven's men, closing.
CANDICE
(to Draven)
You first. If it eats you, we turn
around.
Draven smiles and steps onto the catwalk, unbothered.
Midway, something rises under the water. A shape. Human
shoulders, bark-slick, eyes pale.
It reaches for the rail...
Amara turns, meets its eyes. The chorus drops a note, just a
fraction. The hand lowers. The shape sinks back.
Draven clocks that. So does Candice.
They cross. The living curtain yields, and they slip through.
It seals behind them, sound muffling, like a held breath
released.
INT. ROOTED GALLERY – CONTINUOUS
Quieter. The hum here is deep and even. The walls are smooth
with growth; old signs are just shadows under green.
Dead center: a simple hatch in the floor, almost eaten by
vines. Old Evogen steel.
Amara kneels, brushes away growth. The pendant pulses once.
The vines ease, an inch.
AMARA
(to Jalen)
Help me.
They pry. The hatch gives with a long, wet sigh.
A breath of air rises, warm, clean, green. The chorus drops
to a murmur.
Down there: faint light.
DRAVEN
(soft, hungry)
Finally.
He steps close. Too close.
Candice slides between him and the hole.
CANDICE
You'll get your look when she says.
He tilts his head, all charm and teeth.
DRAVEN
By all means. Lead the way, Doctor.
Amara looks into the glow below, fear and resolve fighting on
her face.
She tightens the pendant strap at her neck.
AMARA
If it opens for us, we don't run.
We ask.
Jalen nods. Candice nods.
Draven's smile doesn't reach his eyes.
They start down the ladder into the light.
INT. VERTICAL ACCESS SHAFT – CONTINUOUS
Narrow ladder. Slick with moisture. Their lamps catch tiny
droplets hanging in the air.
Far below: a soft glow, like sunrise under water.
Halfway down, a low rumble rolls up the shaft. Not a machine,
a body the size of a city taking a breath.
Jalen's boot slips. Candice catches his pack.
CANDICE
Easy.
Behind them, Draven pauses, lifting his bound hands toward
his cuff, leaning in close.
DRAVEN
(into cuff, barely a
breath)
Mark my tag. Doors one and two.
He keeps climbing, expression unreadable.
The pendant warms against Amara's chest, one quick pulse,
like a knock.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Adventure"]
Ratings
Scene
52 -
Veil of Tension
INT. OUTER CORE GALLERY – MOMENTS LATER
They drop onto a platform grown from roots and old steel. The
walls curve like ribs around a central chamber veiled by
living strands.
The hum here is steady and low; words die in it.
Amara steps forward. The veil loosens an inch, then stills.
JALEN
(low)
It knows we're here.
Amara lifts the pendant. The veil softens another inch.
From somewhere in the weave, the chorus swells, layers of
breath, wind, animal calls, human sighs, rising and falling
as one.
Inside the tangle, a small sound flickers past, a child's
quick inhale, caught, gone.
Amara blinks hard. She doesn't say the name.
AMARA
(to the veil, steady)
We brought no fire. No poison. Just
questions.
The veil flexes, uncertain, listening.
Behind them, a faint clack. Draven angles his bound hands
toward his belt, fingers closing on a compact pistol tucked
under his jacket.
Candice sees it.
CANDICE
Don't.
She steps in, plucks the pistol from his grip, and shoves it
into her own holster.
He smiles, empty-handed now. For the moment.
Jalen unshoulders the relay case, sets it down.
JALEN
You want this online?
AMARA
Only to listen. No transmit.
He powers it. A soft tone joins the room, the smallest thread
under the hum.
The veil ripples in reply.
A shape presses up behind it, indistinct. Not a person. Not a
plant. Something between.
Amara opens her hands, empty.
AMARA (CONT'D)
We made a mess. We're here to stop
the hurt.
The chorus tightens, pain passing through a crowd. In it, the
faintest half-sob she recognizes. She swallows it down.
CANDICE
(soft)
Keep going.
AMARA
(to the chamber)
If you let us in, no guns. No
burning. No cutting. Just...
listening.
The veil loosens a hand's width.
Draven's eyes shine. He flicks his gaze toward the ladder
above, like he's timing something, wrists still bound.
INTERCUT WITH:
INT. SERVICE CORRIDOR ABOVE – SAME
Boots move in shadow. Two teams stack at choke points. Visors
glow faintly. Safeties click off.
CAPTAIN
(into mic)
Hold for my mark. Target is my tag.
They wait.
BACK TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
53 -
Veil of Tension
INT. OUTER CORE GALLERY – CONTINUOUS
Amara steps closer. The pendant cools; the veil parts just
enough to reveal a soft glow within, like embers under glass.
The chorus hushes, listening to itself.
Amara sets the pendant gently against the veil. The strands
slide aside without tearing.
A low murmur rolls out, hundreds of voices overlapping. Not
speech. A feeling: we hear you.
Amara's breath shakes, but her hands stay open, empty.
JALEN
(whisper)
We don't have long.
DRAVEN
(pleasant)
Then let's not waste it.
He takes a single step forward and kicks the relay case with
his boot. The tone spikes.
The chamber recoils. Roots pull tight. The chorus surges,
fear, then anger.
CANDICE
Back off!
Draven lifts his bound hands, see? harmless. As he does, he
turns his cuff just enough toward his mouth.
DRAVEN
(into cuff, low)
Mark.
INTERCUT WITH:
INT. SERVICE CORRIDOR ABOVE – SAME
The CAPTAIN's visor display blinks: TAG LOCKED.
CAPTAIN
(into mic)
On my mark.
CAPTAIN (CONT'D)
Go.
Charges pop. An access hatch blows. Soldiers flood the
corridor, moving toward the Core entry.
BACK TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
54 -
Veil of Chaos
INT. OUTER CORE GALLERY – CONTINUOUS
Wind like a shout rushes the room as the network reacts.
Strands thicken. The veil starts to close.
Amara steps fast, palms out, voice firm and calm.
AMARA
Wait. Please, don't close. We're
not the ones shooting.
A beat. The veil hesitates, trembling between fear and fight.
From the tunnel: shouting. Soldiers fan in, guns up.
CAPTAIN (O.S.)
Hands! On your knees!
Candice raises her rifle but doesn't aim.
CANDICE
(to Amara)
You talk or we bleed.
Amara turns her back to the guns, faces the veil.
AMARA
(low, urgent)
If you shut us out, they'll burn
this place. If you let me speak, I
can stop it. Please.
The chorus dips, a ripple passing through a crowd.
The pendant flashes, three soft beats. The veil holds.
DRAVEN
(smiling to Captain)
Non-lethal on the doctor. Everyone
else is expendable.
Jalen's jaw tightens.
CAPTAIN
Drop it!
Guns cock. Fingers find triggers.
The hum builds, pressure in ears, teeth, bone. Roots along
the walls tense to strike.
AMARA
(to the chamber, fast)
If you hit them, they'll hit back.
Let me answer for you.
The voices crest, pain, rage, wind in a canyon, then, for a
breath, a tiny child's exhale threads through it all.
Amara nods once, like she heard a signal only she recognizes.
She turns, steps between soldiers and veil, raising both
hands high.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(to Captain)
Stand down, or this room will tear
you apart.
CAPTAIN
Last warning!
DRAVEN
(pleasant)
Shoot the floor around her. Make it
loud.
He winks at Amara.
DRAVEN (CONT'D)
(low, just for her)
You brought me to the door. I'll do
the rest.
The first rifle CRACKS, rounds slam into the root floor.
The chamber screams, not a word, a storm. Strands lash.
Lights die. The world goes green and wild.
CANDICE
Down!
She tackles Amara as roots whip past. Jalen yanks the relay
clear as a SOLDIER is pulled off his feet, dragged into the
veil and gone.
CAPTAIN
Suppress! Suppress!
The squad opens up. Muzzle flashes strobe. The veil thickens,
defense walls rising.
Amara twists under Candice, shouting toward the glow:
AMARA
Stop! Stop! We're not your enemy!
The pendant burns hot, then suddenly cools.
The lashing pauses. Just a fraction. Enough.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(to Jalen, fast)
Kill the relay tone!
He slaps it off. The piercing thread dies.
The chamber eases a hair.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(to soldiers, loud)
Lower your weapons, or it learns
you're all the same.
Some rifles dip, fear winning for a second.
Draven, half-freed from his ties in the chaos, keeps a
compact pistol low, out of their line.
DRAVEN
(calling out, charming)
Stand down!
A beat. Eyes flick. Guns lower, half a foot.
Draven turns the charm off like a switch, bringing the pistol
up toward the pendant at Amara's chest.
DRAVEN (CONT'D)
(soft)
Hand it over.
Candice sights on him.
CANDICE
Don't.
The chorus tightens, waiting.
Amara looks Draven in the eye, betrayal finally plain.
AMARA
You end this with a trigger, you
end us all.
DRAVEN
Or I end it before it ends us.
His finger starts to move.
A root snaps up between them, fast as a whip, knocking the
pistol wide. It fires; the round spits off stone.
Everything explodes again, soldiers panic, the chamber
strikes, the chorus becomes a storm of hurt.
AMARA
(to the chamber, shouting
over it)
Let me speak!
The pendant flashes once, then holds steady.
The veil parts a shoulder-width.
Inside: not a brain, not a person, just a living knot of
light and green, turning slowly like a heart made of leaves.
Amara steps toward it. Candice grabs her arm.
CANDICE
You'll never get this opening
twice.
AMARA
I only need once.
Amara steps in.
The veil closes behind her.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
55 -
Harmony of Breath
INT. VERDANCE CORE CHAMBER – CONTINUOUS
The living glow gathers near Amara's outstretched hand. The
HUM swells, layers of breath, cries, laughter, too many to
separate.
Amara steadies her palm to the living surface.
AMARA
I don't want to break you. I want
the hurting to stop.
The sound thins... filters... some of the noise falling away.
What's left is a simple rhythm: in... out... pause. A
breathing pattern. The same cadence she once used to calm Nia
to sleep.
The pendant at Amara's neck warms, two quick pulses in time
with that rhythm. Amara freezes.
Her eyes sting, but she doesn't say the name.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(under her breath)
You remember.
The HUM shifts, less pain now, more focus, slowly syncing to
the way she breathes.
She matches it: inhale, exhale, hold. The chamber's pulse
follows.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(soft, to the Core)
It's all of you. Everyone you've
taken in.
The layered sound tightens, not a voice, not words, just
thousands of breaths learning her pace.
AMARA (CONT'D)
I hear you.
The HUM steadies, answering her rhythm.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Fantasy","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
56 -
Assimilation in the Outer Core
INT. OUTER CORE GALLERY – SAME
The green spread up Candice's forearm stops at mid-bicep. Her
breath evens.
CANDICE
It... stopped.
Jalen squeezes her shoulder, shaken.
Across the way, DRAVEN clocks it, calculating, eyes hard.
DRAVEN
Firebreak! Masks up!
Soldiers yank pins. CHARGES thud into place along the rail.
They spark, tiny flames gutter, then the air thins. The
flames crawl an inch and go dark.
SOLDIER
(out of breath)
No oxygen...
DRAVEN is already moving. He snatches a launcher, slams in a
THERMAL GEL canister.
DRAVEN
(open fury)
You don't get to keep my world.
He FIRES...
The canister punches the VEIL, a living membrane beyond the
rail, and SPLATS into a wide, hissing bloom of white heat.
For one sick beat it sticks, then the veil flexes, liquid,
and the burning gel flows back along the impact stream like
mercury reversing.
JALEN
Move!
Too late. The gel splashes, Draven throws up an arm. The heat
blooms, dull and heavy, not flame but a hungry glow. Nearby
vines blanch to white, then drink the heat and pulse greener.
DRAVEN staggers. The rail under him softens; living wood
swells up through the metal like a hand. He jerks free, FIRES
his sidearm into the veil...
BULLETS hit, slow mid-air, and sprout tiny fronds before
dropping as seed husks.
The gel eats through Draven's gauntlet. Skin beneath bubbles,
then threads, fibers unspooling into creeping roots that lace
his wrist and run under his sleeve.
DRAVEN
(choked)
Stand down... Stand...
A tendril, thick as a cable, wraps his waist. Not a yank. A
decision.
It lifts him onto the rail, upright, as if presenting him to
the room.
His suit ribs bow. Under the faceplate his veins glow green.
The whites of his eyes flood with the same color, irises
drowned.
A small white flower opens in his throat; his next breath
comes out as a soft green mist that sinks straight into the
roots, not the air.
SOLDIER
Captain...
DRAVEN claws at his mask. Fingers branch, nails flatten to
bark. His jawline seams, skin marbling into leaf-plate. He
aims the launcher again, too slow.
The veil leans. Vines arch behind him like a spine, then
press him forward into the living wall.
He hits, and the wall takes him, no crush, no snap, just a
merge.
His pistol hand dissolves into filaments that weave back into
the membrane.
His chest opens like a fern, then settles, flat.
For one last human flicker, his face is there, eyes wide,
mouth forming "Mine..."
A wash of green passes through and the face becomes leaf,
then pattern, then nothing.
The chamber listens to itself: the chorus flares, rage,
grief, relief, then steadies into the slow breath Amara
taught it.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
57 -
The Accord
INT. VERDANCE CORE CHAMBER – SAME
Amara keeps her palm on the living wall, eyes wet but clear.
AMARA
No more burning. No more taking. We
learn, or none of us make it.
The chorus answers. For a heartbeat, it narrows, within it, a
small, familiar breath surfaces:
NIA (V.O.)
Mom.
The pendant flickers once. Amara steadies; it hurts, but
she's here.
AMARA
I'm here.
The larger chorus folds back around that note, hundreds of
lives braided, not erased.
AMARA (CONT'D)
Open, please. Let me help them.
The veil loosens, making an exit.
CUT TO:
INT. OUTER CORE GALLERY – CONTINUOUS
Amara steps out. Jalen and Candice meet her; Candice's arm
shows a faint leaf-scar where the spread halted.
JALEN
You did it.
AMARA
We did it. It listened.
She looks from the shaken soldiers to the breathing walls.
AMARA (CONT'D)
(steady, to both)
Terms. We set rules and live.
The HUM answers, wary but open. Beneath it, just audible,
that small child-breath catches... and blends back into the
many.
Amara lifts the pendant, thumb over the print, ready to
begin.
CUT TO:
INT. OUTER CORE GALLERY – MOMENTS LATER
Walls breathe slow. Guns are lowered but not holstered. No
one moves.
AMARA
(to the room, steady)
We need rules.
The wall answers with a low, even HUM.
Amara looks to Jalen, Candice, then the shaken soldiers.
AMARA (CONT'D)
Rule one: No burning. No bullets
into Verdance growth.
(MORE)
AMARA (CONT'D)
Rule two: You don't take people
without a warning.
Rule three: We trade, we give you
dead ground, you give us clean air.
A softer HUM, like agreement.
CANDICE
How do we... know it understands?
Amara taps her pendant three times against the metal rail:
tap... tap-tap.
The wall repeats it back: hum... hum-hum.
JALEN
Call and answer. Okay.
AMARA
(to the wall)
Show us. Clean the air here.
(then, to all)
Masks on your chins only. Slow.
They ease masks. Everyone waits, tense.
The light along the wall pulses outward. Air clears, not
empty, just easier.
People take cautious breaths. No sting. No cough.
SOLDIER
(astonished)
...It works.
The HUM steadies, inviting.
AMARA
Then we'll hold our side.
She nods to the soldiers' explosives. Jalen steps forward,
palms up, and toes one charge into a puddle.
The other soldiers, hesitant, follow suit. Charges drop,
harmless.
The wall's light softens, like a long exhale.
SMASH CUT TO:
TITLE CARD: THE ACCORD
MONTAGE – "FIRST AGREEMENTS"
- EXT. ROOFTOP – DAWN
Candice plants a simple white flag marked with three black
dots (the tap pattern).
Across the street, Verdance vines retract from a stairwell,
leaving a clear path.
- INT. SUBWAY ENCLAVE – DAY
Masks hang on hooks. A kid coughs, then stops, breathing
easy. An old man cries silently, smiling into his sleeve.
- EXT. ALLEY FIREBREAK – DAY
Survivors stack scrap into a low metal strip.
Vines tap it - ping, ping, then grow around it, leaving a
safe corridor.
- INT. TRIAGE CORNER – AFTERNOON
A young runner's forearm shows a fast green creep under the
skin. He panics.
Amara presses the pendant to his wrist, taps three beats.
The green stops, then fades to a pale leaf-shaped scar.
His chest heaves, alive.
- EXT. COURTYARD – EVENING
A small group of mutated stand at the far line, eyes pale,
bodies grown through.
Jalen kneels, sets down a crate: water, bandages, fruit.
One mutant steps forward, taps the crate twice, then carries
it back.
No rush. No attack.
- SKYLINE PLUME – SUNSET
Thick, dirty haze over a dead block lifts in a slow spiral,
leaving clear bands of view. Not blue... but truer.
END MONTAGE.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
58 -
Navigating Hope in the Dark
INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL – NIGHT
Lanterns sway. A chalk map sprawls along a tile wall: SAFE
PATHS marked with three dots; NO-BURN zones shaded. The air
is easier.
CANDICE
We can move families topside by
morning, if this holds.
SOLDIER
(quiet, to Amara)
We... can signal your pattern if
patrols need passage.
AMARA
It's not mine. It's ours. Keep it
simple. No hero moves.
A faint child's breath threads through the tunnel, there,
then gone.
Amara hears it; the pendant warms. She doesn't say the name.
JALEN
So... we live with it?
AMARA
We live with each other.
(beat)
Next step, we tell the others. Mark
safe corridors, share the three-
beat, show them how not to burn.
A deep HUM, from below, answers like a distant drum.
JALEN
Broadcast the rules. City to city.
CANDICE
Routes, flags, no-burn lines. Make
it simple so anyone can copy it.
AMARA
And we prove it holds, so they
believe us.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
59 -
Confronting the Shadows
EXT. MIDTOWN OVERLOOK – PRE-DAWN
The survivors climb to a roof. The city lies under turquoise-
gray light, petals opening and closing on the breath.
AMARA
(to the horizon)
We hold our line. You hold yours.
She taps three beats on a rusted vent.
Across blocks, light ripples through vine veils, one, two,
three, echoes of the beat.
Patches of haze lift, exposing streets, steps, doorways.
CANDICE
It's clearing the corridors.
JALEN
Then we can get food runs going.
Real ones.
A distant BOOM rolls through the air. The HUM tightens,
uneasy.
SOLDIER
That's not us.
Another boom. A third, closer.
AMARA
(turning)
What did we leave running for
Draven?
Silence. Then the soldier looks down, ashamed.
SOLDIER
His bunker net. If his vitals drop,
the drones wake for retrieval.
(beat)
We never shut it off.
The HUM dips, warning. In the far sky, three dark shapes
rise, angling toward the Core's district.
CANDICE
So the old world's coming back to
finish the job.
AMARA
No. We meet it.
(to Jalen, Candice, the
soldiers)
This is where we prove the rules
hold under fire.
She taps three beats on the roof rail, clear, slow.
Down the blocks, the vines answer. Pathways open like doors.
AMARA (CONT'D)
We lead them through the corridors
we made.
No burning. No bullets in living
tissue.
Make them choose.
JALEN
And if they don't?
AMARA
Then Verdance will. With us or
without us.
She squares her shoulders, pendant steady against her chest.
AMARA (CONT'D)
Let's go teach the future how to
breathe.
She heads for the stairs. They follow.
DISSOLVE TO:
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
60 -
The Three-Beat Harmony
EXT. APPROACH TO CORE DISTRICT – LATER
Columns of Verdance light rise in the distance, calm but
watchful.
The first drone punches into view, black, loud.
On the ground, survivors and soldiers spread, guiding it,
hands up, tapping the three-beat into metal and railings.
The drone's aim wanders, confused by the chorus of returns
from the living streets.
Amara steps into the open, no mask. She taps again, firm.
The walls answer. A clear lane opens, drawing the drone past
a NO-BURN ribbon and away from the Core.
CANDICE
(to her team)
Hold the line. Eyes on hands.
Nobody fires unless they fire at a
person.
The HUM deepens, Verdance leaning in, listening.
Amara looks to the oncoming sky, two more drones cutting low.
AMARA
(under breath)
Okay, world. Let's see if we
learned anything.
She lifts her hand, three beats.
CUT TO BLACK.
TITLE CARD: THE VERDANCE
FADE IN:
MONTAGE – "THE THREE-BEAT SPREADS"
– EXT. COASTAL CITY – DAWN
A harbor's three-beat pulse travels across shallow tidepools;
algae answer with three brighter blinks.
– INT. RURAL CLINIC – MORNING
A nurse taps three beats on a metal IV pole; a patient's
creeping leaf-veins halt, then recede to a faint scar.
– INT. CORE DISTRICT – VERDANCE WALL – UNKNOWN TIME
In the living wall, countless breaths blend... then one small
breath (Nia's rhythm) syncs to Amara's pendant glow, and
dissolves back into many.
FADE OUT.
THE END