Twenty FourTwenty Four

Twenty Four

1. Wide panel. A figure wrapped in a trench coat stands at a street vendor amid a gloomy twisted landscape. Once upon a time this was part of a busy, modern city. Now it’s a sunken mess of fallen buildings, sludge and twisted geometry. Something happened here and no-one is coming to help or fix things. The figure holds out a photo to the shrunken, warped little man behind the street stall. Other figures go about their business in the gloom.

CAPTION: I have no idea why I'm still here. 

STILES: Colluci, you see everything. Any ideas? 

COLUCCI: Ferd, you don't wanna go down there. 

LOCATOR CAPTION: The Pile. Population: 3 million and dropping. 

2. CU on the photo. It’s a young girl, smiling, wearing a formal dress, posed for the camera. Behind her is glass, chrome, skyscrapers, blue skies and a lot of green. Some place and sometime far away from The Pile.

STILES: Coin and the job dictates I go where she does until I get her back to mummy and daddy. 

3. The gnarled vendor, COLUCCI, looks downtrodden as he replies. Also, we get our first real look at the figure in the trench coat, Ferdinand Stiles. She’s in her early 30s, with dark brown hair, cut short out of practicality rather than aesthetics. She has a tough face and a sturdy jaw. Her brown trench coat is wrapped around her like armour.

COLUCCI: She went down. 


CAPTION: Correction. I have an idea why I’m here *right now*.

4. STILES is now turned towards the street, away from the vendor. Spots of brown rain begin to fall as STILES looks ahead off panel.

STILES: Shit. 

5. Wide panel. STILES begins pushing through the crowds of what passes for a busy street in this place. The sidewalk is littered with pedlars, vendors, religious nuts and ne’er do wells.

VOICE: - - stims and neural patches - - 
VOICE: - - whatever your vice - - 
VOICE: - - safe in our ruined tower --

CAPTION: But I have no idea why I stay.

6. Wide. We’re looking over STILEs shoulder as she looks down over a chasm that suddenly begins at the end of the road. We’re looking down into a further level of sunken hell and chaos. Another a hundred feet down is the another subsection of sunken city. Fires rage at random spots, and smoke pours out of the hole like a bleeding wound on the surface of the world.

LOCATOR CAPTION: The Scrum. Population Unknown. 

7. Looking up at STILES. Her trenchcoat billows with a gust of hot air, flapping open to reveal she’s heavily pregnant.

CAPTION: Especially when I have so many more places to be.
September 4, 2016 · 1page1shots

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