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PANEL ONE: We see a GLOVED HAND, powerful-looking, raised to knock on a door.
CAPTION: Hakim Anthony — now calling himself Anthony Hack after being reported AWOL from the military — should have seen it coming. After all, the day pretty much started OUT like shit…
PANEL TWO: Looking over ANTHONY’s shoulder (he’s in civilian clothes as he opens the door.) We see GUARD #1 (black) and GUARD #2 (white) just beyond him, looking through the door, which is still on its chain. They are wearing sunglasses and wool watch caps and wearing coveralls. The letters “BGF” are printed on their chest pockets. GUARD #2 has a HIDEOUS DWARF about TEN INCHES HIGH (“CARPENTER”) RIDING on his SHOULDER.
GUARD #1: You Anthony Hack? Heatseeker?
ANTHONY: Could be. Who are you?
PANEL THREE: GUARD #2 points to the pocket of his coveralls.
GUARD #2: We’re from Byzantium Gates Fabrication.
PANEL FOUR: ANTHONY, a lithely muscular black man in his mid-20s, opens the door and steps back.
ANTHONY: Yeah, that’s me — but how about you? Got some I.D.?
PANEL FIVE: GUARD #1 reaches into his POCKET
GUARD #1: Oh, yeah, no problem. You got all your stuff ready?
ANTHONY (pointing toward two duffel bags): Right there.
GUARD #1: Good.
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PANEL ONE: (Splash) — A HUGE ARC of electrical plasma ZAPS from the object in Guard #2’s fist to ANTHONY, knocking him off his feet him with a huge and painful jolt.
SFX: GzzzZZZZAPPP!
GUARD #1: And HERE’S my I.D., BITCH!
PANELS TWO, THREE, FOUR: (Small, at bottom, panels black except for the guards’ words, unless we want to show the DISTORTION, THEN BLACK of a progression of ANTHONY passing out.)
GUARD #1 (Off Panel, as CAPTION): Now the gas to make sure he stays out.
GUARD #2 (OP, as CAPTION): Why didn’t you just use the gas in the first place?
GUARD #1 (OP, as CAPTION): Because burnin’ his no-respect ass was more fun.
GUARD #2 (OP, as CAPTION): Christ, where’d that freaky little thing go? Damn, he’s in the wastebaskets looking for food. Come help me catch the dwarf or we’ll never get back.
GUARD #1 (Cont.): Shee-it. You hear that punk? Askin’ ME for I. D…
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PANEL ONE: CLOSE ON ANTHONY’S FACE — TINY DROPS OF SWEAT, BUT HE’S POKER-FACED.
ANTHONY THOUGHT CAPTION 1: Man, I hate this place, and I truly hate being underground. Reminds me WAY too much of the Russian’s place…and those motherfucking flies…the FLIES…
BYZANTINE (OP): Two minutes to live — it’s not a very long time, is it?
PANEL TWO: MEDIUM SHOT on BYZANTINE, FARSIGHT.
BYZANTINE (Cont..): In any case, now that I have your attention…listen carefully and understand this: You are now part of Byzantine Gates Fabrication, sometimes known as The Factory, the most successful program ever devised for training metahumans and their associates to a life in the unregulated marketplace. You belong to me.
BYZANTINE (Cont.): I am Byzantine…and while you are here, I am your god. If you offend me in any way, you will suffer. After you leave, you will still be mine until you have paid off your debt. You know this. You all accepted the bargain before you came.
PANEL THREE: CLOSE on BYZANTINE’S FACE
BYZANTINE: But spies and traitors — that is a different story. For them, there is only one penalty.
ANTHONY THOUGHT-CAPTION 2: Do they know about me? Can’t be. They don’t know about me. He’s just trying it to see if anyone flinches.
ANTHONY THOUGHT-CAPTION 3: But I don’t flinch.
PANEL FOUR: SHOT ON ANTHONY in the midst of the other ROOKIES.
BYZANTINE: Anthony Hack — Heatseeker.
ANTHONY THOUGHT-CAPTION 4: Shit. They MUST know
ANTHONY THOUGHT-CAPTION 5: Damn! No side-arm, no way to fight back — what kind of dumb-ass gets himself into something like this…?
ANTHONY: Sir?
PANEL FIVE: BYZANTINE — EVIL–LOOKING old dude, the COLD, ANGRY GRANDPA from HELL.
BYZANTINE: What do you think we do with traitors and spies here, Mr. Hack?
ANTHONY THOUGHT-CAPTION 6: Shit!
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PANEL ONE: ANTHONY and MINK and THROWBACK and SNAIL
ANTHONY: I don’t know, sir.
BYZANTINE: Letisha Angel — tagging, as you young people say, as “Mink.” Tell me what you think happens to people who spy on the Factory, Miss Angel.
MINK: Don’t know. Trouble.
PANEL TWO: SAME as ONE
BYZANTINE: Mr. Carter?
THROWBACK: Oh, f’sure. BIG trouble.
PANEL THREE: SAME as ONE
PANEL FOUR: SAME as ONE.
SNAIL: Trouble. Double.
PANEL FIVE: |EVERYONE TURNS TO LOOK AT SNAIL. HE’S STARING DOWN NERVOUSLY.]
SNAIL (Cont.): Mister Bubble.
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PANEL ONE: BYZANTINE walks down from the PODIUM, LOOKING THEM UP AND DOWN. We see/hear his SERVO MOTORS CLICKING.
SFX: Ssss-klik. Ssss-klik. Ssss-klik.
BYZANTINE: Which of you is the one called Cell? Benny Santos?
CELL: That would be me.
PANEL TWO: BYZANTINE STOPS, stares at him like a VULTURE at a DYING MAN. We can see FARSIGHT behind BYZANTINE, still up on the PODIUM.
BYZANTINE: No, I’m afraid it wouldn’t. Mr. Farsight?
FARSIGHT: Your real name is Anselmo. You told our recruiter you’re a TP specialist for a Midwestern crime syndicate who wants to go solo. In fact, though, you’re an undercover police officer out of New Columbia PD H Plus Division.
PANEL THREE: CELL points ANGRILY at FARSIGHT.
CELL: That’s a lie, man! You got it all wrong!
FARSIGHT: I can feel him firing, sir, even through the damper effect. He’s broadcasting at full strength.
BYZANTINE: Thank you, Mr. Farsight. You see, I have my own telepath.
PANEL FOUR: CELL TURNS on BYZANTINE.
CELL: All right, you crooked bastard. You can do anything to me you want, but I just sent out a call that’s already been heard by every tp-sensitive meta in the area. You’re going to have Force Five or even U.P. all over your ass in about two minutes.
BYZANTINE: Please, give us a little credit — we’re professionals. Surely you heard Mr. Farsight mention the
