BLACK SCREEN. An instructional, auto-generated VOICE speaks. It occasionally glitches out.
VOICE (V.O.)
Your first student-level on-site assignment is about to begin: The Intel Training Operation. This is a prerequisite to graduation. Your drop zone is among the safest in all Clouded Sectors, so remember to relax. Take deep –. This mission is estimated to –- minutes —
The voice keeps glitching, its dialogue skipping.
VOICE (CONT’D)
Once over CS Zero-Nine — will be disconnected — safety grips — and your partner — The Intel Application in your CPU’s Helmet will automatically —
Suddenly: ROARING GUSTS of hurricane winds, CREEKING METAL, SCRAPING. FAST ALARM BEEPS pierce through it all. The voice keeps going regardless.
VOICE (CONT’D)
Armor — can withstand — aerosol toxicity — Zero-Nine –- among least hostile — In the rare instance of — use your Z-Rod Firearm –- Drones tend to — human shape –- And remember –- relax — aim –- breathe —
The voice degrades to STATIC. The SOUNDS OF CHAOS WAIL…
… Then, underneath it all: an ominous, earth-shaking GROWL.
IT ALL STOPS; silence… then…
… A quiet, rhythmic BEEPING…
FADE IN:
EXT. RUINED BUILDING ROOF – NIGHT
JOAN’S POV
The BEEPS sound in conjunction with a small, flashing EXCLAMATION POINT. JOAN’S (17) perspective is through a HIGH-TECH HELMET. It displays multiple information graphics over their view of the scene; a computer on a full-face visor.
The space beyond the helmet is barely visible: DARK and dense with FOG. The view is crooked; Joan’s head is lying sideways on a dank ground.
The EXCLAMATION POINT beeps next to several lines of red text, all beginning with the word “WARNING.” The first line reads “MICROPHONE DAMAGED.” Another says “THERMAL OFF.”
In the top right, there is a digital MINI-MAP, with a marker in the middle: Joan’s position. They are in a grey square labeled “211, M-RISE”. The map contains other numbered shapes: H-RISE, L-RISE, and other M-RISES.
The perspective MOVES: Joan is STANDING UP. They look down to their RIGHT PALM, concealed in black nano-fiber, and begin POKING it. It dimly lights up in response; a TOUCHSCREEN GLOVE.
The “THERMAL OFF” message expands, then reads “REBOOTING”. “20%”… “80%”…
… “DONE.” The space beyond the helmet GLOWS through MONOCHROMATIC THERMAL VISION. The view DARTS AROUND; Joan is nervous.
They are on a city building ROOF. The perimeter walls shine WHITE under thermal; warm. Beyond, there is only dark FOG; cold.
The floor Joan stands on is not uniform; it is roughly textured, like a forest floor rather than concrete. It shines WHITE… some parts move slightly.
ON JOAN
They are completely ARMORED in high-tech wear, with a BLACK, DOME-SHAPED HELMET. The space around them is a DARK ABYSS; thermal is the only way to see here.
The armor RISES and FALLS, flexibly moving with Joan’s HEAVY BREATHING; they are afraid.
They poke more commands on their palm.
JOAN’S POV
The warning messages all disappear and the BEEPING stops.
A new window: “CONTACTS”. Joan selects one: “ID-0814 ‘PETRA’.”
An AUDIO WAVEFORM appears, moving. There’s QUIET AUDIO FEEDBACK. Then, the VOICE of PETRA (17); she is FRANTIC.
PETRA (O.S.)
Hello?? Joan??
ON JOAN
Joan’s head BOBS; they are SPEAKING inside the helmet, but it isn’t audible. We still hear Petra…
PETRA
Joan! What’s wrong? I can’t hear you!
Joan’s hand FIDDLES with the side of their helmet.
PETRA
Are you there? I tried contacting you earlier and I didn’t hear anything, and your marker wasn’t moving!
Joan BANGS on the side of their helmet. They begin punching commands into their palm. Petra’s voice starts CHOKING UP.
PETRA
I thought you were gone.
JOAN’S POV
A CHAT WINDOW appears. Joan TYPES and sends a message to Petra: “I’m ok. My mic is broken. I was out until just a second ago.”
Petra sighs in relief.
PETRA
Shit… I’m so glad you’re ok. How are you feeling? How did your mic get broken?
Joan types another message: “I’m fine. My helmet took a lot of the fall for me. I think my mic broke when it hit the ground.”
ON JOAN
Their figure BACKS UP against a wall–which makes a SOFT, SQUISHY SOUND despite the armor hitting it-—and SLIDES down to sit. They pull their knees to their chest.
PETRA (CONT’D)
Right, you did fall out of a plane. If you landed on your head that’s a hell of an impact to the helmet, even with your parachute. I’m glad nothing vital got busted.
JOAN’S POV
Joan’s head is buried in their knees. Petra’s audio waveform JUMPS with her words.
PETRA (CONT’D)
Fuck, I though you didn’t make it, Joan. There isn’t a lot of movement from everyone else. So many markers are still…
Joan types into their palm and sends another message to Petra: “Are they dead?”
PETRA
Well, you weren’t moving before, but now you’re fine. Maybe they’re all just knocked out… or scared.
Joan types again: “What happened?”
PETRA
Did you see it…?
Joan types: “See what?”
PETRA
I don’t know what it was, look at your Sited List.
Joan punches a command into their palm. A LIST, headed with “SIGHTED”, appears next to their mini-map. There are a few LONG, SCIENTIFIC SPECIES NAMES in grey text on the list with a NUMBER next to them: showing how many there are.
One name is in RED TEXT and reads “UNKNOWN” with a “1” by it.
PETRA (CONT’D)
That “Unknown”, that’s it. That’s what took the plane down. I saw it. I’m going to input visual data onto its sited profile so everyone else knows.
The “Sited” list EXPANDS: showing info on each listed name. The “UNKNOWN” info matches what Petra says…
PETRA (CONT’D)
It was at least forty meters long, wingspan must have been double that. I saw it flying away when I jumped out of the plane. It was bright white, sharp appendages to latch onto the plane with, no eyes, large mouth, several rows of–
Petra stops, realizing how bad this all sounds. Joan buries their head in their knees again. They’re SHIVERING.
Petra forces a cheerful tone.
PETRA (CONT’D)
B-But! We don’t need to worry, its last sighting was far away from you, and it hasn’t shown up anywhere yet, so it’s probably not moving.
Joan’s trembling relaxes a bit.
PETRA (CONT’D)
And everything else on the list is docile. And: no Drones! No Drone sightings yet. I’m more worried about those. They said those were rare out here though so—-well, anyways, we should meet up and stick together. Quickly.
Joan POKES commands into their palm again. The mini-map EXPANDS. Joan looks for Petra’s marker on it, but it doesn’t show.
They send another message: “Where are you?”
PETRA
Oh, right, my equipment got busted too. My tracking stuff is off. I’m on a road, a tight one. The overgrowth is mainly vertical branches so I can get through. Look east of your marker, I’m in-between buildings 423-L-rise and 444-L-rise.
The mini-map PANS to the right, eventually making it to the buildings Petra describes.
PETRA (CONT’D)
That’s four-and-a-half kilometers from you, I’m thinking we should meet at a safer and higher place in between, somewhere near 212-H-rise.
The mini-map PANS left and shows building “212-H-rise”.
PETRA (CONT’D)
You’ll have to travel a bit on your own.
Joan closes the mini-map. Their legs are SHAKING a bit.
Petra speaks softly. She knows Joan well; knows what makes her nervous.
PETRA (CONT’D)
It’ll be fine, though. Remember, no Drones. Unknown is nowhere near, either. Nothing is standing in your way. You can do this Joan.
ON JOAN
A quiet moment passes. Joan’s knees slowly relax, and they LEAN back against the overgrown wall, looking to the sky.
JOAN’S POV
Their view begins to RISE–they’re standing up.
They send another message to Petra: “OK. Let’s do it.”
PETRA
Let’s do it! I’ll keep talking to you the whole way.
Joan’s view SHAKES a bit with each step they take. They’re nervous, but they keep moving: heading to the roof exit.
PETRA (CONT’D)
That should make me feel better too!
The exit is OVERGROWN with strange, coral-like FOLIAGE. This city is ruined… and overtaken by otherworldly things.
FADE TO:
EXT. RUINED CITY – LATER
ON JOAN
They walk somewhat hurriedly through the FOGGY ABYSS of a city. They now carry a RIFLE, and their head is anxiously searching, afraid of what might be lurking around.
PETRA (O.S.)
When we get back home, we’ll spend the night at your place. It’s been a while since we did that.
The sky is hazy. Dim light comes through the mist above, mostly dissipated.
PETRA (CONT’D)
(chuckling)
Remember… remember when you thought you could handle hearing those urban legends I knew and I literally had to lie in bed with you so you could actually fall asleep.
Joan’s shoulders HOP a little–their chuckling along.
PETRA (CONT’D)
Yeah, we’re definitely doing that again. No scary stories, right? Though, you’d probably not be phased at all now.
JOAN’S POV
Through the helmet’s thermal vision, the scene becomes a little more crisp.
The environment is alien: a place that was once a city. The structures of roads and buildings remain, but they are crusted & grown over by coral-like fungi.
Some growths are more ominous: seeming to have eyes and teeth, but they do not move, as if they are trying to mimic carcasses. One corpse-like fungus is the size of a entire building; its grey eyes stare off into the fog.
Suddenly, the “Sited” list appears next to the mini-map. Another name in RED TEXT shows, reading “DRONE”.
PETRA (CONT’D)
What the — someone found Drones..? Someone else is awake? Why aren’t they trying to contact us..?
ON JOAN
They breathe more frantically and hug their rifle to their chest
PETRA (CONT’D)
Uh — that’s ok. We’re really close. Let’s get a move on. Once we’re together we’ll be safer… It’ll be alright, Joan.
Joan’s doesn’t relax. But, they walk on…
FADE TO:
EXT. OUTSIDE OF RUINED TOWER – LATER
Joan is CROUCHED behind a fungal structure, holding the rifle tightly.
They release one hand from the front grip, open it, then type into their palm with their pointer finger of the hand holding the pistol grip. They start typing a message to Petra: “I’m” … “outside” …
They’re nervous to look away from their surroundings.
“of” … “the” …
Petra’s voice stops them from typing any further.
PETRA (O.S.)
You’re outside 212-K. I can see it from here. I’m not far. Don’t worry, we’ll be together soon.
Joan carefully STANDS UP.
INT. TOWER, MAIN FLOOR – MOMENTS LATER
Joan, slowly, ENTERS the building through what was once a large front window; some kind of office lobby. Each of their steps is cautious.
The area outside is a barely visible dark grey, and we can see the frame of the opening. But inside the building itself: pitch black.
Joan TYPES on their palm, LOOKING UP frequently; they’re terrified.
JOAN’S POV
In thermal, the lobby granularly reveals itself. The ceiling is high, but multiple fungal structures make the room seem more constricted. All the lobby’s surfaces are covered by growth, like the buildings before.
One of the structures, a massive, bulbous shape, appears to have two giant eyes and rows of unmethodical teeth, forming a crude, gaping smile.
Joan focuses on this object more than once, clearly afraid of it.
They TYPE a message to Petra: “Inside now.”
PETRA (O.S.)
(panting from jogging)
Nice! I’m getting closer. Try to find a small space. Get secured. I’m five minutes out.
Joan LOOKS around the lobby, always going back to the fungal face. It smiles back with each LOOK, unmoving.
PETRA (CONT’D)
And remember, nothing in there can hurt you. All that freaky stuff is just for show. Stay back from the big fungi and you’ll be fine.
We still hear Petra’s PANTING, the audio waveform on the helmet screen BOUNCES in response.
Joan CREEPS through the open space. They DART their head around at all the fungi. Some have extra eyes, others look to have legs. None are moving…
A RUSTLE! Joan JUMPS, FREEZES, LOOKS to its source:
Two long, bipedal LIZARDS DART from behind a fungus.
They RUN towards Joan!
Joan SLIPS, TUMBLES ONTO THE FLOOR–
s
The lizards ZOOM PAST them. The patting of their feet fades, out the building and into the mist.
Joan begins to STAND–,
THUMP! The ground SHAKES: something massive happened, from outside…
A WARNING MESSAGE APPEARS on the helmet screen. The BEEPING and EXCLAMATION POINT return. In red text: “HOSTILE SITED NEARBY.”
On the mini-map, a RED DOT APPEARS outside building 212-K. The “SITED” list of grey names is now topped by a flashing, red “UNKNOWN”.
PETRA (CONT’D)
(out of breath)
Oh no… I have to hide. Stay calm Joan, you’re safe in there. I’m sure you’re getting the beeping — the Unknown’s here.
Joan GETS UP, TYPES into their palm: “Are you safe?”
They LOOK towards the far end of the lobby, in Petra’s direction. The view of the outside is restricted, but there are some small HOLES in the wall…
Some holes FLICKER A BRIGHT WIGHT… the white SHIFTS AROUND: there is a massive body out there, slowly moving, and very hot on the thermal.
An ominous, vibrating RUMBLE quakes from the white beyond.
PETRA (CONT’D)
(whispering)
It flew here… fuck… why here… I’m good right now, Joan. Are you in a safe spot?
Joan LOOKS around the lobby, then TYPES: “Almost.”
Another RUMBLE.
Joan LOOKS back to the wall. More holes are WHITE. Then, MORE TURN WHITE… THEN MORE… steadily…
PETRA (CONT’D)
(whispering)
Joan! It’s coming towards you! Hide! Hide!
Joan BACKS AWAY. Nearly ALL THE HOLES ARE SHINING.
A low HISS. Bright, steaming BREATH SEEPS in through the holes.
The wall is thin… the creature is right outside…
Then…
A POP! From outside.
The Unknown RUMBLES again.
One by one, the holes go dark: it’s moving away.
PETRA (CONT’D)
Joan, I shot an F-Rod, it’s coming to investigate. You’re ok. You’ll be fine. Now hide. I gotta hide too.
Joan looks DOWN and frantically TYPES into their palm: “What are you doing?!”
They look at the WALL, at their PALM, BACK AND FORTH, TYPING MORE: “Petra!”
Back to the WALL. The white beyond the holes is barely there.
Back to their PALM: “Talk to me!”
The WALL: nothing…
Their PALM: “Please!”
The WALL: a small black shape is moving inside.
Their PALM–
Joan FREEZES. They look again: at the wall… by the base of it, inside the lobby… there is a FIGURE; a human figure…
… or, almost human.
It is a dark thing, even under thermal: a cold creature. Its arms and legs are sickly THIN, its oval head is disproportionately LARGE. And its eyes, the only part that glows under thermal, are MASSIVE: the size of dinner plates, and on EITHER SIDE of its head.
It has to TURN its head SIDE TO SIDE to see with each eye.
A warning message appears: “HOSTILE DETECTED”. On the “SITED” list: the word “DRONE” flashes in red.
Petra finally speaks in whispers:
PETRA (CONT’D)
Joan…? Joan! There’s a Drone in there! Don’t let it see you! Get your gun! Get your gun!
Joan BACKS AWAY, not taking their eyes off the Drone. They back up faster, and faster–
Their view JERKS DOWN TO THE FLOOR, SLAMS against the GROUND!
They’ve slipped–
And their THERMAL CUTS OFF, broken. The POV goes PITCH BLACK, but the messages and map remain.
A FLASHING warning: “THERMAL SIGHT ERROR”.
Beyond the helmet, there is a FAINT LIGHT: Joan’s palm. They type into it…
The warning message EXPANDS: “REBOOTING…”
Petra’s voice is steadily rising; she’s not whispering so quietly.
PETRA (CONT’D)
Joan! Fight! Fight if you have to! Please!
A faint TAPPING, coming from the darkness: running feet…
tap tap tap tap tap–
“REBOOTING…”
tap tap tap tap tap–
“COMPLETE.” The thermal FLASHES BACK: Joan’s open PALM shows for the briefest of moments–
tap tap TAP TAP TAP–
They LOOK UP–
THE DRONE IS INCHES AWAY, SPRINTING!
Joan SWINGS AN ARM UP: BAM!!! It COLLIDES against the Drone, just in time! They STRUGGLE.
Joan’s other arm, not holding anything, ASSISTS in the fight.
They GLIMPSE at the floor: their DROPPED RIFLE lays there. They look BACK to the Drone:
Its head takes up most of the POV. An enormous mouth, stretched from ear to ear, is AGAPE, DROOLING. It has no teeth or lips; instead, it has sharp, beak-like bones running along the mouth’s edge, designed for the upper and lower jaws to close in a perfect, permanent, and petrifying smile.
The dinner plate eyes MOVE like a fish’s, unblinking, incapable of blinking. The head TURNS SIDE TO SIDE, letting each eye look at Joan.
It makes no sound; even the “breaths” of its PANTING mouth are silent, like a gasping fish.
Joan HOLDS it back, PUSHING, but it manages to REACH both its arms out… BEHIND THE POV: it’s GRABBING the back of Joan’s helmet.
Petra’s voice is cracking, desperate, hardly a secretive whisper anymore.
PETRA (CONT’D)
Joan your marker’s not moving! Please! Please fight! Please! Please..!
Joan GLIMPSES back to the floor: their rifle. They REACH with one arm, but can’t grab it…
They LOOK BACK UP: the Drone INCHES CLOSER to their face. Its hands SCRATCH behind the POV, trying to grip the helmet.
Petra speaks in breaths: she is running.
PETRA (CONT’D)
I’m coming! I’m coming to help!
The ominous RUMBLE quakes again.
Joan looks at the lobby WALL: they can’t see anything outside.
Back to the DRONE: INCHING closer.
Back and forth they LOOK: wall, Drone, wall–
They STUMBLE to the ground, the Drone is FORCING ITSELF onto them, like a hungry lion. The rifle is RIGHT NEXT to Joan, but they must use BOTH ARMS to hold the creature back.
The POV moves closer…
The Drone’s thin arms, GRIPPING the back of the helmet, PULL JOAN’S HEAD towards OPENING JAWS…
Another RUMBLE from outside.
PETRA (CONT’D)
(wheezing)
I’m almost there! You’re going to be fine!
Joan’s view is inches from the Drone’s mouth: opened so wide it could bite the entire helmet. The thermal vision lights up the inside of its throat: the cold flesh within pulsates. There’s no tongue.
It moves CLOSER…
CLOSER…
Joan PULLS THEIR ARMS DOWN, giving up. The POV is ENGULFED in pulsing flesh.
The mouth, wrapped around the view like a snake biting a rat, CHEWS on Joan’s helmet, trying to break it.
All the helmet’s displays — messages, maps, everything — GLITCH OUT with each CRUNCH of the mouth.
ERRORS FLASH ALL OVER.
A CRACK FORMS; the helmet’s BREAKING… THEN…
POP!
ELECTRIC CLICKS blare from underneath. The mouth SHAKES FROM THE SHOCKING–
Then FALLS off the helmet, released. The Drone COLLAPSES. A metal ROD is impaled through them, SHOCKING them.
Joan is holding their RIFLE, which SMOKES. They had freed their hands to grab it.
The Drone twitches on the floor, paralyzed.
Joan RUNS to the wall, the wall between them and Petra. They TYPE into their palm: “Stop!” “Stop!” “Stop!” Again and again…
Petra’s breathing STEADIES: she’s stopped running.
Joan’s view APPROACHES a hole in the wall…
At last, Joan sees Petra. Her heat trace stands still in the middle of the fungal street. She wears the same armor as Joan’s.
Joan also, at last, sees the bright white Unknown monster. It stands bat-like on its wings, looming over Petra, dwarfing her in size.
Petra is out of breath. Her helmeted face looks up, and her voice, calm and relieved, comes quietly into Joan’s own helmet.
PETRA
Thank goodness you’re okay.
The Unknown’s head — eyeless and mostly mouth — APPROACHES Petra.
It LUNGES–
Joan TURNS AWAY.
CUT TO:
BLACK.
VICIOUS AUDIO FEEDBACK ROARS.
Then, it cuts out…
Silence…
FADE TO:
EXT. RUINED TOWER, ROOF – NIGHT
JOAN’S POV
They hold their knees tight to their chest. The displays in their view still GLITCH a bit from the Drone’s bite.
They sit still, face buried in themself. Fog creeps around them.
Then, a BUZZING NOISE fades in: some kind of flying vehicle. Joan doesn’t look up, doesn’t move at all.
Their knees BRIGHTEN under an approaching spotlight.
FADE TO BLACK.
END.
