1. Wide panel: somewhere in a forest clearing, day. A group of YOUNG PROTESTERS lie dead in the dirt puckered with bullet wounds. Their camp, a gathering of tents and sleeping bags is strewn around the clearing. Standing over it all is a KILL TEAM consisting of a group of hardened looking mercenaries wearing sleek looking combat gear.
KILL TEAM LEADER: Sir, it's done. KILL TEAM LEADER: Clean up teams are enroute, construction crews will be here in the AM. PHONE (JAGGED): I hear doubt in your voice, Franchetti. This needed to be done.
2. CUT TO: ANDERSON, a craggy-faced looking guy in his 50s, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. He’s driving a car down a forest track, concentrating on the road ahead as he shouts into a mobile phone affixed to the dashboard with some kind of holder.
ANDERSON: They’d impeded progress for far too long.
3. We CUT back to the forest clearing. Cracks have begun to appear in the ground beneath the feet of the KILL TEAM.
PHONE (JAGGED): You can't stop progress. KILL TEAM LEADER: Sir, something is moving...
4. The KILL TEAM begin to look at each other, fear in their eyes for the first time, as the cracks in the ground grow LARGER, some of the corpses of the protestors and the trees themselves falling into the yawning gaps.
KILL TEAM LEADER: ...something below us.
5. CUT back to ANDERSON in the car, his hands off the wheel, shielding his face in terror. Something large looms over the car, casting a shadow.
PHONE (JAGGED): Sir?