GEEK contest submissions

[IndieMe]

Other Brother

fade in:

EXT. Tibetan monastery fortress - himalayan mountains - TWILIGHT

Hundreds of flickering votive candles and lanterns line the windows.

Above the building the golden rose glow of the sunset highlights the sky, fringing the mountain peaks.

A yak herder named DORJE, escorted by a troop of Chinese soldiers, looks up at the sight. A LIEUTENANT pushes him with the butt of his rifle.

(all dialogue is subtitled in English)

LIEUTENANT
Keep moving.

Dorje trudges along the path to the front doors.

LIEUTENANT
I hope you don't frighten easily, Dorje. We need you to stay focused as we interrogate the prisoner.

He nudges Dorje with his rifle.

LIEUTENANT
We captured him just outside of the perimeter after he had attacked a munitions depot. One of our soldiers wounded him.

The lieutenant stops on the path.

LIEUTENANT
How did the rebels recruit him into the resistance?

He shakes his head.

LIEUTENANT
The monks aren't talking. Communication's a problem.

The lieutenant stares straight at Dorje.

LIEUTENANT
They say he speaks in an "ancient variant of pre-Vedic Sanskrit".

He swings open the door.

LIEUTENANT
Luckily so do you.

INT. meditation hall - night

The prayer hall has been converted into a make-shift interrogation room.

Strapped down on two adjoining tables is a hulking nine-foot humanoid covered in grey and white fur-- the Yeti. An IV drip bottle on a metal stand pumps tranquilizers into his veins.

His pale blue eyes survey the room. A group of red-robed MONKS huddle in a corner looking at him with a mixture of fear and reverence. A squad of SOLDIERS guard them. A torn nylon net beside them.

A nervous soldier aims a TASER gun at the creature.

LIEUTENANT
Give the monster a jolt!

YOUNG MONK
He's not a monster!

OLD MONK
He's a rakshasa, a demon!

YOUNG MONK
No, master, he is a dharmapāla, a chos-kyong. A Defender of the Law. He's
a close cousin of our own human family.

LIEUTENANT
He would kill you or I without hesitation if he could break out of these restraints. Do not fool yourselves for a moment.

The lieutenant glances at the window, at the flickering candles.

LIEUTENANT
Where did the munitions disappear to? Where were the rebels hiding? How were they able to steal all the supplies without being seen?

The Yeti turns his head to face Dorje. He speaks in the ancient language.

YETI
Map.

Dorje looks at the lieutenant.

LIEUTENANT
Do as he says.

YETI
Inside. Inside me.

The Yeti looks down at his stomach.

YETI
Feel.

Dorje reaches out to Yeti's stomach and touches him. He finds a fold, a flap of skin. It is a marsupial-like pouch. He reaches inside. He pulls out a sticky translucent sheet of "paper".

YETI
Clean.

The lieutenant hands Dorje a wash cloth. He wipes it clean.

YETI
Fold.

Dorje folds it in half.

The "paper" emits a bubbly chirp.

A red schematic diagram graphic overlay with flashing map co-ordinates appears on the "paper". The animated diagram shows a movement of red vector arrows on similar trajectories.

YETI
Invasion.

LIEUTENANT
Are those the rebels?

YETI
Occupation.

LIEUTENANT
Where are they? I don't understand.

The Yeti turns to Dorje once again.

YETI
Fold.

Dorje folds once again, making the paper into a long ribbon.

YETI
Twist.

Dorje gives a half-twist to the ribbon making it into a Mobius strip.
The Yeti looks deep into Dorje's eyes then down at his own wrist shackled to the table.

LIEUTENANT
Where are the rebels!

A MESSENGER breaks into the interrogation room.

MESSENGER
Sir, we have word that the rebels have been captured. They have been rounded up and executed.

A smile creeps across the lieutenant's face.
The monks huddle closer in a sympathetic embrace.

Dorje moves the Mobius strip close to the Yeti's hand. The ribbon snaps around the Yeti's wrist and emits a series of chattery chirps.

YETI
Touch.

Dorje taps it and the bracelet emits a purring sound which rises in a crescendo.

The Yeti's hair glows like fiber-optic filaments that bristle and curl with blue electrical arcs.
The Yeti turns semi-transparent, fading in and out. Tuning in and out. Going out of phase with local three-dimensional space.

LIEUTENANT
Stop him!

The soldiers fire rounds into the Yeti's chest. His fur erupts into patterns of red bursts as he convulses in the restraints.

The Yeti's pale blue eyes look deep into Dorje's own.

YETI
Goodbye...

DORJE
What is your name?

YETI
...

DORJE
What do they call you?

YETI
I am Brother. First Brother.

He coughs up blood.

They grip hands tightly, Dorge's small trembling hand in the Yeti's mighty fist.

The Yeti surveys the room of monks.

YETI
My brothers...

He closes his eyes.

YETI
My other brothers. They are coming...

The illuminated map target points on the Mobius bracelet flash quicker and quicker.

fade out

[IndieMe]

The Man In The Silver Mask

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT

DESMOND QUINN (70s) presses one of many buttons on his wristwatch, and looks around the kitchen.

Everything is still.

QUINN
Hmph.

He presses another button.

QUINN
(English Accent)
Drat.

He now presses two buttons at a time. Nothing.

Three buttons. Nancy Sinatra’s “You Only Live Twice” blares from a stereo.

Quinn’s furious, shakes his watch, does what looks like a figure eight with his fingers sprawled across the keypad-

The stove top lights up, starts heating up a tea kettle. Success!

QUINN
Yes! Yes! Yes!

He looks down at his watch again.

QUINN
Now, then, how do I get the sugar?

The music is still blaring, Quinn looks down at his watch, tinkers about-

The power goes out. Stays dark for half a second before booting up again.

Quinn looks around, tries to listen for a sound.

QUINN
Emma? Marty? You there?

He steps out of the kitchen into the-

DINING ROOM

No one’s here. Walks into the-

FOYER

Notices the front door’s open. There’s a CRASH behind him, he turns to the noise. Dashes towards the living room-

INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

EMMA’s (36) shaking violently on the floor.

Quinn rushes over, tries to hold her.

QUINN
Emma? Emma! Keep your eyes on me, try to focus!

Emma’s eyes roll back, keeps convulsing.

Quinn looks over at MARTY (10) scared witless.

QUINN
Marty what happened?

Marty just looks around the room, seems to be searching for something.

QUINN
Marty, I need you to call an ambulance, can you do that, Marty?

Marty shakes his head.

QUINN
Dammit!

Quinn grips Emma, looks over at the phone on a table, can’t reach for it without letting go of his daughter. The world’s spinning around Quinn, he can’t figure out what to do.

MECHANICAL VOICE (O.S.)
You were the easiest to find, Quinn.

Quinn tries to follow the voice, it’s source seems to be circling around him.

MECHANICAL VOICE (O.S.)
The one they valued the least.

QUINN
Who-?

MECHANICAL VOICE (O.S.)
I injected her with a rapidly mutating retrovirus.

QUINN
What are you-

MECHANICAL VOICE (O.S.)
Tell me Quinn, how much do you value your daughter?

A figure flickers out of invisibility, it appears to be a man in body armor, with a silver, faceless mask. We’ll call him “KING”.

KING
How much do you value the mother of your grandson?

QUINN
What do you want?

KING
You gave him the gadgets, protected him, coddled him.

King’s gloved hand grips the back of Quinn’s neck.

QUINN
Wh-who?

KING
You know who. You knew the second I appeared that this was about him. The darling of MI6. The superspy, I want him.

QUINN
No, no...He’s done...I don’t even know where, he’s been out of this, this mess for so long now, I-

KING
In about fifteen more minutes your daughter’s liver and spleen will be permanently compromised. In about a half hour after that, her brain will cease to have enough energy to function. You are killing your daughter with your lies, Quinn.

QUINN
Damn you. Goddamn you. You’re going to die for this, you know that? You’re going to be torn apart.

KING
I would expect less of him if he didn’t try.

QUINN
No, not by him-

Quinn spins around-Smashes his fist into King!

Every bone in Quinn’s hand shatters, blood smears across King’s mask.

Quinn screams in pain as King violently grabs his head-

KING
That was beyond pathetic, Quinn. No wonder the rest of MI6 laughed at you.

Quinn spits at him.

King shoves him away.

KING
Senile, decrepit, old man. What were you thinking?

Quinn heaves himself up, smiles. He raises his hand-

King sees bone and tissue regrow and realign. Tiny microscopic nanobots are repairing Quinn’s hand instantaneously, while-King’s silver mask burns away.

QUINN
Nanobots. There’s probably more of those little buggers in my body than there are healthy blood cells.

King screams as his face gets eaten away by the nanobots.

QUINN
I control them, as long as they’re within distance.Quinn grabs a lamp, points the bulb at King-

Blasts an electric bolt, right into King’s chest.

Knocking him to the floor.

QUINN
You thought you could waltz into my own home?

He picks up the TV remote, pushes a few buttons-

The Chandelier transforms into a net, crashes down on King.

QUINN
This is a wizard’s home, you bloody idiot.

Quinn grabs a pen from a table, points it at King’s face.

QUINN
And this is my wand.

The tip of the pen grows bright red-

KING
The virus! I have the cure!

QUINN
You incompetent amateur. That superagent whore would sleep with anyone and anything that moved it’s hips. I figured out how to cure every STI, virus, and retrovirus ages ago. So don’t worry, you fool, I’ll figure out how to cure your pathetic little virus within seconds.

KING
Ah hell.

Pfft!

A tiny red light flashes from the pen, and King crumples to the floor.

QUINN
Hmph.

Quinn looks down at this wristwatch, presses a few buttons.

QUINN
Dammit.

He turns to his grandson.

QUINN
Marty, will you be a friend and fetch a cup of tea for me as I fix up your mother? I can’t seem to get the cup to levitate to me. Bloody useless contraption, I do have to say.

Quinn moves towards his daughter, pulls out a small computer device.

QUINN
(to Emma)
I suppose, one of these days, we have to thank him for being such a slut, eh?

He gets to work.

QUINN
(to Emma)
Although...you’re still forbidden from making eye contact with him.

THE END

[IndieMe]

The Swinging Fist of Scholarly Light

EXT. TREE LINED FIELD – DAY

LANCE CORPRAL TROTTINGTON (30's) and DRAGOON WESSEX III (20's) are standing in sharp, red British Army uniforms.

Trottington has a pillbox hat with ridiculous plumage and brass all over his chest. Wessex has a much more subdued amount of medals. They both have handlebar, dragoon mustaches.

In the distance, the boom of cannons can be heard.

Wessex looks at the horizon through a collapsible telescope. His eyes bulge.

WESSEX
Oh, bullocks!

Trottington smiles, amused.

TROTTINGTON
Oh, come on Wessex, old chap. I'm sure it's not that bad.

Wessex hands Trottington the telescope, dazed. Trottington scans the horizon. His eyes bulge.

TROTTINGTON
Oh, bullocks!

He collapses the telescope.

TROTTINGTON
Well, that certainly puts a damper on our glorious charge.

WESSEX
I would say so, sir.
(beat)
Shall we call it off?

Trottington frowns and shakes his head.

TROTTINGTON
No, I'm afraid I've invited most of London's literary community to record my bravery this evening. We'll just have to push forward.

WESSEX
Naturally, sir.
(beat)
You do realize we are completely buggered, right?

TROTTINGTON
I should say so, Wessex. But unfortunately, I have a reputation to consider.

WESSEX
Well noted, sir.

The exit off camera.

EXT – PATCH OF TREES – MOMENTS LATER

Several POETS and SCHOLARS in cheap suits and neck ties are all scribbling in notebooks as Wessex and Trottington approach.

Behind them are forty DRAGOONS on horseback.

The scholars and poets form a semi circle around the two.

Trottington produces a piece of paper from his breast pocket and clears his throat.

TROTTINGTON
Right then.
(beat)
I've prepared some words-
England stands on a precipice.
A precipice where she must either stand for scholarly light or common filth.

SCHOLAR
Here here.

Trottington is thrilled with the reaction.

TROTTINGTON
France has chosen to go the route of commoner filth and at this point, the 357th Royal Dragoon Regiment has chosen to charge forward as the swinging first of scholarly light.

WESSEX
Well said, sir.

A pipe smoking LITERARY CRITIC (50's) with thin glasses clears his throat.

LITERARY CRITIC
I say, did you write your speech before or after you found out Napoleon had procured frost giants for his army?

Behind Trottington and Wessex, the French battle lines, in their blue uniforms are seen marching forward.

In the center of each column of men are forty foot, bearded, loin clothed, Viking looking, FROST GIANTS (40's).

Trottington looks back somberly.

TROTTINGTON
Well, I suppose that hardly matters at this point.
(beat)
Right then, boys. Let's put on a good show.

The Dragoons let out a cheer and mount their horses.

[IndieMe]

Untitled - part 1

FADE IN:



INT. LOBBY - DAY

The lobby glows with sterile plate glass, brushed nickel, and
blue leather. Pamphlets depicting successful, beautiful
people are placed strategically nearby. The tiny rattle of a
ventilation fan can be heard around piped-in music.

Young, buxom NATALIE, clad in a thin flowing blouse and
painted-on jeans, sits intimately beside the balding elderly
ALBERT, her hand resting on his thigh. She studies the small
pamphlet he holds at arm's length due to poor eyesight.

NATALIE
No, no. I don't like that one. It
looks too bulky.

ALBERT
Are you sure?

NATALIE
Yes. It would be nice for a bit,
but I think I'd get tired of it
pretty quickly. The upkeep would
take too much effort.

ALBERT
You're right, hon. I don't really
have that sort of time anymore.

Albert flips through a few pages.

NATALIE
That one doesn't look too bad.
What do you think?

ALBERT
Looks to be durable to me. Reminds
me of one I had a long time ago.

NATALIE
(laughing)
It's in the classic section for a
reason, Bertie.

Albert leans back and smiles, reminiscent.

ALBERT
They were good years, Nat. There
are more in store for you.

NATALIE
I hope so, sweetie.

Natalie leans in and kisses Albert on the cheek.

They both look up from the pamphlet as a man in pressed
slacks and tie enters the room. This man, QUENTIN VICKERS,
straddles the canyon between slimy salesman and stiff doctor.

QUENTIN
Pardon me, Mr. And Mrs. Renville.
The transference lab is ready for
the procedure. Have you chosen a
model?

ALBERT
I believe so, Dr. Vickers. Just a
few questions first.

QUENTIN
Of course. How can I help?

ALBERT
Well, are there any compatibility
issues with this one?

Albert holds the pamphlet up to Quentin and points to the
open page with his other hand.

QUENTIN
Ah, the Samson. No, sir. This
model has been thoroughly tested to
not only prevent the transfer of
current conditions, but also has
reliably shown a very low rate of
development of new ones.

Albert nods, impressed with the answer.

NATALIE
How is the durability on it?

Quentin seems just slightly reluctant to answer.

QUENTIN
There will be an increase in
scheduled maintenance, but I think
that's well worth the resilience it
provides.

ALBERT
How much of an increase?

QUENTIN
You'll want to be in every six
months for the first two years just
to make sure you're adapting to it
properly. After that transition,
we recommended a full diagnostic
very three years.

Natalie pokes Albert excitedly.

NATALIE
That's not that much more than the
current one. What do you think?

Albert eyes the current brochure page and rubs his chin.

ALBERT
We'll go with the Samson.

QUENTIN
Wonderful choice, Mr. Renville. If
you'll follow me, we'll get you set
up right away.

Albert and Natalie rise to follow Quentin. Albert stoops to
pick up a bag from the floor. He walks a little slowly but
Natalie is there to support him.

[IndieMe]

Untitled - part 2

CUT TO:

INT. LABORATORY

A surgical table stands in a sparse beige room. Albert is
hooked up to the various medical machines that surround him.

A statuesque male is hooked up to machines identical to
Albert's. The screens all show flatline numbers.

Natalie sits beside Albert, holding his hand delicately.

ALBERT
What time is our dinner
reservation, dear?

NATALIE
Eight o'clock.

ALBERT
(smiling)
Plenty of time.

Quentin enters the room, his tie secured by a white apron.
He taps a bit on the master console's keyboard and turns to
the couple.

QUENTIN
All ready, Mr. Renville?

ALBERT
Indeed I am, Dr. Vickers.

Quentin nods and finishes typing. A low HUM permeates the
room. He steps back to calmly investigate Albert's heart rate
screen as it FLATLINES. The hum intensifies.

New BEEPS start up but the screen shows no change. We SWEEP
to the monitor for the young man. Here's the heartbeat.

Natalie rises and walks to the other bedside.

NATALIE
Albert?

The young man's eyes flutter a bit. He focuses on her and
flexes his arm muscles, testing them.

QUENTIN
Mr. Renville? Does everything feel
ok? Any stiffness or blurriness?

The young man sits up on the table and stretches. Muscles
ripple. Quentin keeps one eye on the screens while waiting
for the new Albert's reply.

ALBERT
Feels good to me.

Natalie runs her hand down his new chiseled chest.

NATALIE
(whispering)
Feels good to me too.

Albert cocks an eyebrow and flashes a stunning smile.

ALBERT
How are the numbers, Doctor?

QUENTIN
Everything looks perfect, Mr.
Renville. Heart rate, blood
pressure, and breathing are all
reading as normal. It looks like
you're good to go here.

Quentin checks a metal clipboard, scribbles a bit.

QUENTIN (CONT'D)
Let me set up your first checkup
appointment and you folks can be on
your way.

ALBERT
Wonderful! Thank you, Dr. Vickers.

QUENTIN
You're very welcome.

Quentin walks out of the room. Albert POPS off the table and
begins to dress. Natalie is eating him up with her eyes.

NATALIE
Can we skip dinner tonight sweetie?
I have something else on my mind.

Albert stops mid-button and smiles.

ALBERT
This is always my favorite part of
getting a new body.

FADE OUT.

[IndieMe]

The Transmission

INT – SPACESHIP UTILITY ROOM

On a grainy camera, a female janitor in a bloodied uniform, WILLY THORPE (30's), stares directly into the lens. There is a flash of static. She limps away from the camera to a bucket and sits down so she is visible. There is blood pooled on the floor everywhere.

Off camera, someone is pulling intense, shallow breaths throughout the following.

WILLY
My name is-

The lights flicker and come back on.

WILLY
My name is Willy Thorpe. As far as I can tell, Lt. Faulk and I are the only two left on board the CSS Anubis.

Willy winces in pain and grabs her shoulder.

WILLY
If anyone’s out there, if anyone’s coming, I hope they know we did the best we could. We couldn’t-
(beat)
We tried to hold out, but our plans all failed.

There is a groan off camera.

WILLY
Nothing we did seemed to work.

She looks over to the door behind her.

WILLY
I don't have much time, so I'll tell you what I know. Three hours ago, things went crazy. When Lt. Faulk came back in from his patch job, we’re-

She winces and grabs her shoulder.

WILLY
We're pretty sure he didn't come alone.

Static.

WILLY
The motion sensors in the quarantine bay went off but I figured it was just mechanical failure.
(beat)
I guess I was wrong. I went in and-

Willy takes a long contemplative beat.

WILLY
I know I broke protocol and I know it's probably my fault, but-

It would have happened anyway and we couldn't leave Lt. Faulk in that airlock.

She takes a long breath.

WILLY
If someone has to be blamed, I guess you can blame me.

She leans forward off the bucket, holding up her security badge up to the camera.

WILLY
Here's my ID number. Wilma Thorpe CSS-B3506.

She sits back down.

WILLY
We found the first bodies in the bunks. It looked like an animal attack or something. We lost Lt. Charles, and Airman First-class O'Gradey, and...I mean. All of them. I don't really know the order.

The lights flicker and turn back on.

WILLY
The Captain wanted everyone in the same room so we went to the helm. There were about seven of us left. The Captain decided to just sit-

There is a huge flash of static for two beats.

WILLY
-pointing weapons at each other. After Lt. Faulk shot the Captain everyone just went crazy. I was the only one left standing. I dragged Lt. Faulk back into this utility closet and here we are.

Static.

WILLY
-still noises out there. We don't have much time.

She looks back at the door.

WILLY
****, I think it found us.

She runs to the door and flips a switch. The overhead lights go out and the emergency lights weakly come on. She falls to the ground curling into a fetal position.

There is the continued sound of shallow breathing off camera.

WILLY
(whispering)
Shut up, Faulk.
(beat)
Shut up, you're gonna give us away.

Willy crawls left, off camera.

WILLY (O.C.)
Shut your mouth!

There is a slapping sound.

WILLY (O.C)
They’re gonna hear you, Faulk.

The slapping turns into a fist pounding sound. It becomes harder and louder. Lt. Faulk's breathing stops.

Crying, Willy limps back onto camera, blood dripping from her face and hands. She sits down on the bucket.

She straightens and smiles. Her entire demeanor and presence have changed.

WILLY
It was either them or us.
(beat)
Call it self defense.

She begins laughing.

[IndieMe]

CLOGGED

FADE IN:

ON A SILHOUETTE SKYLINE OF A CRUMBLING CITY

A shaft of light from a setting sun reveals -

EXT. CITY DUMP - DUSK

That the “skyline” is nothing more than heaped piles of discarded waste and junk.

An archaic television set that juts out of the garbage plays static...even though there’s no logical reason for it to still be playing.

A wind-up alarm clock begins to ring. Its rusty bells shaking off a layer of recently dumped newspapers and food scraps.

A pile of garbage jolts and from under a layer of trash MILO, an aged derelict toothless mass of wild hair and all other lovable qualities of a city vagabond, emerges from his slumber.

He checks the three broken watches on his wrist and yawns.

EXT. CITY DUMP - NIGHT

Milo strikes a match against a strip of sandpaper and lights a lamp built from a cracked teapot and salvaged candle.

As he wanders over a mountain of trash, something scuttles away from the light.

LATER

Milo, alone and surround by the waste of the city, sifts through the garbage, his “lamp” the only source of light...even the moon doesn’t shine on this hell hole.

Just out of the glow of the light, something hides in the shadows...watching.

Milo pulls free a partially clean towel and beams with joy.

A small hunched shadow scuttles under a pile of mattresses.

EXT. CITY DUMP - BORDER - NIGHT

Milo whistles an eerie toothless tune...completely at ease in this place. He quietens, peers over a hill of old bicycles.

The rusting chain fence of the dump’s borders loom ominously close.

Milo cocks his head...listening for a sound...nothing. He diligently pushes on.

A soft groan gurgles from the darkness behind him.

EXT. CITY DUMP - BORDER - NIGHT

Milo quietly sneaks towards a concrete block of public toilets. He glances around.

The place is empty.

INT. PUBLIC TOILET BLOCK - NIGHT

A faucet drips. Mould thrives on the damp walls and tiled floors, pulsing with a heart of their own.

Milo freshens himself up with the salvaged towel. He gives himself a once over in the stained cracked mirror.

Satisfied he turns to leave, his eerie whistle echoing around the empty block.

And then - a NOISE

A soft gurgle in the dark. Milo freezes.

The gurgling continues...something about it seems human. Like the gurgle of an agitated newborn.

The gurgle breaks into a whine. A baby’s cry.
But still not the cry of a human child.

Milo follows the cry into the darkness...the cry reaches a crescendo as Milo edges open a rotting door.

He shines his lamp in.

INT. PUBLIC TOILET BLOCK - SHOWER CUBICLE - NIGHT

Milo cautiously edges in, his feet crunching on dried moss and mud.

The crying stops...only the soft whimper and a gurgle now echo around the concrete block.

He kneels down...the whimper coming not from the room itself...but from the shower drain.

A clump of thick black hair clogs the drain. Another gurgle.

Milo cautiously sets the lamp down, his dirty fingers edging towards the black grimy hair.

He softly pulls at it...it doesn’t budge. Milo tugs harder and slowly the hair dislodges from the drain.

With a pop the hair is pulled free...but dangling from the hair...joined to the hair...is a small creature.

Hunched and brown with a mass of thick black hair.
It screams.

Milo’s eyes widen...

MILO
My god...

And behind him...

Hunched creatures scuttle over the wet tiles.
The candle flame dies.

ON BLACK

A soft gurgle.

FADE OUT:

FIN

[IndieMe]

JUST TESTING

FADE IN:

INT. WHITE ROOM - DAY

Everything is seen through the LCD viewer of a DV camera.

PENNY, a pretty in pink teenager, sits at a table, chewing
bubble gum.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
I'm going to pick a random number
and write it down.

PENNY
Three hundred and seventy-five.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
I hadn't written it down yet.
It's important, for the purposes
of this test, that I write it down
first.

Penny looks away, miffed.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
I'm going to think of another
number. Please don't say anything.

Penny inspects her nails, whatever.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
I've picked a random number and
written it down.

Voice of Authority's hand holds up a card so the camera
can see it Penny can't. The number is 101,789

Penny pops her gum, she couldn't care less.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
Penny?

PENNY
You told me not to say anything.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
Can you guess the number?

PENNY
No.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
Are you saying your talent is
intermittent?

PENNY
I don't have to guess, I know what
it is.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
I didn't mean to imply you were
taking a wild guess without knowing.
It was only a figure of speech. I
apologize. Can you tell me the
number I've written on this card?

PENNY
(big sigh)
One hundred and one thousand, seven
hundred and eighty-nine.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
That is correct, thank you.

Voice of Authority holds up another card, it shows a blue
triangle.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
These images--

PENNY
Blue triangle.

Voice of Authority holds up another card, a red square.

PENNY
Red square.

Voice of Authority holds up another card, wavy green lines
inside a purple hexagon.

PENNY
Green waves, purple thing with six
sides. We've done this like, a
thousand times. How many more
tests do you need?

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
All right. Just a couple more.

Voice of Authority slides a sealed brown envelope across
the table. Penny stares at it.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
Can you tell me what's inside this?

PENNY
It's a photograph.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
Are you able to tell me what it's
a photograph of?

PENNY
A woman. She's worked with you
for two years. You've been screwing
her for the last six months. She
says she's going to leave her
husband and move in with you, but
she won't. He earns four times
what you do. She fakes her orgasm.

Penny giggles. Voice of Authority snatches the envelope
away.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
That's enough! Can we focus,
please?

PENNY
(still giggling)
Sorry.

Voice of Authority slides a white envelope across the table.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
What about this one?

PENNY
It's just a bunch of squiggles.

Voice of Authority pushes a notepad and pen across the
table.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
Can you write them down for me?

PENNY
This is SUCH a waste of time.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
I assure you it serves a useful
purpose. Please.

PENNY
Yeah right.

Penny sighs, opens the notepad and writes. She turns the
notepad round and shoves it back at Voice of Authority.

PENNY
Happy now?

Voice of Authority lifts up the notepad. His hand trembles.
Penny's drawn a vertical column of Chinese ideograms.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
You understand Chinese? You know
what this says?

PENNY
Well... not really... it's just
some crap about some guy who can
read the President's mind and knows
what he's thinking all the time.

Penny pops her gum.

PENNY
Well duh, it's what you're thinking.
Oh suuuuure, like a Chinese guy
can get that close to the President.
Not unless he's a waiter. Or some
kind of... White House... staff
person... Oh man, like that guy
we saw when we... oh jeez.

POP! Penny's head jerks back, crimson blood spatters the
wall behind her. Penny keels backwards, falls out of sight.

Voice of Authority lowers a silenced pistol.

VOICE OF AUTHORITY (O.S.)
Suspicions about test subject proven
correct. Latent extrasensory powers
were developing at an exponential
rate. Subject has been terminated.
Other students who accompanied her
on the school visit to the White
House will also be tested, but I
think we've found our girl. Tell
our mole he's okay. Till next
time. Freaking espers give me the
creeps.

The camera LCD is turned off.

FADE OUT

[IndieMe]

To Valhalla

FADE IN:

On the face of SERGEANT GREG KING (30s), looking up at the
sky. Eyes stricken with terror, mouth filling with blood.

An oppressive chorus of GUNFIRE ringing out around him.

EXT. TIKRIT, IRAQ - DAY

We now see the rest of him, lying on the sand, his stomach in
SHREDS.

A small company of SOLDIERS to his right, taking cover behind
a blockade of vehicles. Peeking out to FIRE at a group of
ARAB MEN firing back to his left.

Behind one vehicle:
PRIVATE AARON ILES with PRIVATE AUGUSTEN GREEN.

Green holds a MEDIC KIT.

GREEN
****! Sarge!

But King is silent, transfixed on the sky.

GREEN (CONT'D)
(rising up)
I've gotta go get him.

Iles grabs him and SLAMS him back down.

ILES
The **** is wrong with you? You
wanna get your ass blown away,
too? Take a look, man - Sarge is
gone.

Green's POV:
King, speechless. After a moment, he grins.
Lifts an arm and reaches for the sky to -

King's POV:
A unspeakably beautiful WOMAN arcing down from
the sky toward him.

A VALKYRIE, dressed in gold-plated armor and velvet robes.

Once she finally makes it to him, she reaches either arm
underneath to PICK HIM UP.

Their eyes lock.

KING
(in awe)
I - I want to fight.

VALKYRIE
(soothing)
And you will. You have done well,
warrior. The halls of Valhalla
wait for you.

King beams. Music to his ears.

VALKYRIE (CONT'D)
But not tonight. Tonight, warrior,
you drink.

And with that, she LIFTS him up. They ascend.
And then they're gone.

Green's POV:
King, alone, has put his arm back down. Talking
to himself. With one last breath, his smile melts... his eyes
roll back and he dies.

[dpaterso]

8 entries, not bad! We're very excited.

Other Brother
The Man In The Silver Mask
The Swinging Fist of Scholarly Light
Untitled - parts 1 and 2
The Transmission
Clogged
Just Testing
To Valhalla

-Derek

[dpaterso]

If you haven't voted, please do! Today's the day!

-Derek

[Qazworld]

but remember folks: there are no losers here! everyone is a winner for entering the competition!

except for oz.

[Naudikom]

It's always the arrogant a**holes who think they're going to win that say "Hey, everyone's a winner here."

;)

[IndieMe]

We got 11 votes!!! :bounce:

I'll post the results later today.

[OzFade]

GreatOz is a great contributer to these boards Qaz...ease up

[IndieMe]

Read the results here! (http://messageboard.donedealpro.com/boards/showthread.php?t=40521)