the Sleep of Reason

Back Cover Text:

The Assamites are known throughout vampire society as a clan of murderous assassins, who work for whomever can pay their price, in blood.

Mahira is a war refugee from Kabul, trying to start a new life in America. A highly trained sleeper agent, Mahira has caught the eye of FATIMA, the ASSAMITE Clan's most fearsome warrior. She knows the girl has heard The Call -- but will she be able to convince her to follow the path of a True Warrior, or will Mahira submit only to the sound of her hatred?

Script: Eric Griffin, Stefan Petrucha (X-Files)
Art: Jerry Decaire (Wolverine)

First Contact 05/09/2002

Stefan Petrucha

*A Story is Born 05/10/2002

Stefan,

Sounds good. Since Justin seems predisposed against this previous idea, it's probably best to start fresh.

I was thinking about good visual Assamite stories and found myself wondering about the frame story you used for the DA first draft. Did you end up using the frame in the final version? The terrorist-attack angle?

It occurs to me that the most dynamic Assamite story we could write at this point would be one that tackled the terrorism issue head-on. I'm going to brain-dump on paper a bit here; see if there's anything you think we can run with.

Opening scene: At the university, as in DA:Assamite. The female student reaching into her bag as the security guards close in. Build tension. The crowd edges away, the professor breaks off and shrinks back from the podium. Pan to Fatima for a reaction shot. Her thoughts. When the woman pulls out the scarf, it's a bang -- it reverses the readers' expectations. It's only a scarf. Then you hit them again: the security guards nab her *anyway*. Exposition: why she is a dangerous and seditious element. Fatima watches her dragged out.

Month later, jail cell: Student has clearly been through the wringer and has been broken down to despair. Little more than animal reactions -- fear, hunger. Guard comes to release her (her lucky day), just spoiling for an excuse to hurt her further. No fight or fun left in her. Throws her out into the back streets. Confused and disoriented. She catches sight of Fatima. Eyes meet, realization that compared to Fatima, she is nothing more than prey in the larger scheme of things. Frying pan and fire. Student is saved from this fate only by the arrival of two men from within, guerilla types, who claim to have bought her freedom. They take her away.

Months later, streets, night. A killing. Looks like vampiric feeding from a distance. Zoom in, knife, reverse expectation. Killer looks up from victim, frightened, exultant. It is the Student, recovered from her imprisonment, but with a harder edge to her. It is a test, her first kill, and she has proven herself. She is not weak anymore, not a victim, the memory of those haunting red eyes from that night in the alley recede a pace. Comrades approach, celebratory. They lead her off, while two remain to dispose of the body. Fatima closes on the pair menacingly.

Months later, LaGuardia airport. Student going through new customs checks. She is separated from her traveling companion. Obviously being harassed because of race and point of origin. Papers have different name than we have heard before. Eventually dumped out of cab into the back streets of NYC. Glancing doubtfully at address on scrap of paper and up at the dilapidated tower. The gap-toothed skyline, the conspicuous absences of the WTC.

Fatima coming through airport at night as corpse. Islamic burial taboos.

Months later, safehouse in north Jersey suburbs. Fatima spying from the outside. Sneaks in. Student is culminating her training for terrorist activities. Put anthrax onstage. Plot to hit reservoir. 19 Million people. Student departs with jar. After all have gone, Fatima surprises the resident, converses briefly with him, looks displeased, kills him.

Months pass. Shoddy apartment NY. Where student keeps her awful burden. Has to look at it everyday. Things seeming less and less real. Nearly-avoided accident. Waiting for her activation call.

Years pass. Activation call comes, voice on other end gives code phrase. Pan back to Fatima on line. Student's fear, soul-searching. Gets drunk (first time, very bad at it)

Next night, goes to reservoir. "Heightened" security has had ample time to become lax. Has little trouble penetrating defenses.

Moment of crisis. Throws jar in, breaking it.

Considers throwing herself in after it. What's left for her to do? Her plans/hopes have never gone any further than this moment.

Startled as Fatima appears. Moment of genuine fear and then defiance. The deed is already done! She is triumphant.

Fatima tells her that she has failed the test. That this is not the way of their Order, the Assamites. Jar was harmless. Student has failed and disgraced herself.

Student rages at her. Wouldn't ever want to be like her. Fatima is a monster.

Fatima spells it out for her: if Fatima stalked and killed a victim every night, it would take her more than 52,000 years to equal the act Student had just willed and thus committed. The real monsters are the ones that walk by day. The ones that must face the next sunrise.

Fatima leaves her.

Student faces the leap.

Fin.

* * *

Your thoughts? My first concern is that this story might be too big for the format, I really have no feel for it at this point. One of the things I like about this plot is that it is very long-term -- it feels like a very vampiric perspective. Fatima has a pivotal role and it deals with the question of what an Assamite is by showing what one isn't -- the stereotypical Islamic terrorist/killing machine.

So give it to me straight -- is this something you could get excited about? Something we can pickup and run with? I look forward to your insight here.

--Eric

*the Synopsis 05/24/2002

Assamite: The Sleep of Reason

Synopsis by Eric Griffin and Stefan Petrucha

Marike, a high school sophomore and her friend, Anise, shop at a suburban mall in Westchester. It's night and the place, with the atmosphere and squalor of a WOD gothic cathedral and the air of a black market, is full of over-privileged teens, cell phones, portable DVD players and a few kids dealing Ecstasy.

Marike's eyes wander, casing the joint. Anise mistakes this for Marike's scoping out the cute boys. She eggs the shy Marike on, to go up and introduce herself, "Sometimes you just have to say screw it and do something." Marike begs off, "I've got to get home. My dad will go ballistic if I'm late again."

Fassif, a middle-aged man, bearded, fastidious and well-dressed, sites a shoulder-mounted anti-tank rocket through a window down upon an upscale Wall Street coffee house. It's the height of the lunch rush. He pulls the trigger and turns away, discarding the spent launcher. He exits without a further glance out the window. No need to look; it's all business, nothing personal. He'll hear everything he needs to know on the 6:00 news.

JFK Airport. A coffin is unloaded, placed on transport vehicle and shunted around Customs. In customs, an Islamic woman in full burka is separated from her companion and obviously being harassed by officials, despite her protests of utter innocence.

Meanwhile, in an isolated storeroom, the coffin is furtively un-nailed. The handler opens lid and neatly cuts the lining revealing Fatima's body. He curses, not finding the expected narcotics and unceremoniously dumps her out on the concrete floor. Then he begins tearing out the lining with his hands. Fatima arises and closes in on him from behind - one less drug dealer polluting the world. She lets the body slump back into the coffin and shuts the lid, knowing her "next of kin" will claim it soon. Not exactly an in-flight meal, but she wasn't flying first class to begin with.

Back in the suburbs, Marike arrives "home", late, flustered. Rather than a suburban home, this is a deserted corporate park. She's sneaking back in. Her mind, however, is not on getting busted by mom or dad, but on eluding sentries and disarming alarms. She successfully navigates the defenses and allows herself a sigh of relief as she swings the front door closed behind her. Fassif waits for her at the top of the stairs. He doesn't yell or ground her, but reprimands her for being unprofessional and jeopardizing the cell. He is not actually her father, but the leader of their terrorist cell.

They argue - she storms off for her room. As she goes, his tone becomes more paternal, less business-like. He will not have anyone thinking a "daughter" of his immodest for keeping such hours.

Switch to an NYC subway. Fatima is on board, en route to a business rendezvous. The car lurches to a sudden stop. Blackout, silence. She sees the lights of the rest of her subway train pulling away. When the emergency lights flicker on, she is alone in the car, save for the monstrous Nosferatu, Calebros, ersatz Prince of NYC. He has gone to great lengths to arrange a "private" meeting. Calebros explains his agents have caught wind of a major terrorist threat to the city. He suspects biological weapons will be brought to bear.

His fear is not for the Kindred, but rather for the mortal food-chain and support network. Mass death could destabilize an already-tenuous Camarilla position and provide an opening for the Sabbat. Calebros is not acting in any official capacity; he has provided the money, but will not risk his own people. He hints that there is a war of attrition being fought here, beneath the streets of NYC. He is both surprised and suspicious that Fatima's superiors chose to send someone of her reputation. Fatima implies that, like him, she is here for personal reasons as well -- checking up on a potential recruit in the area.

At Anise's plush suburban home, Marike speaks briefly with her friend. Anise is leaving on a date though, and we realize Marike has been asked to baby-sit for Anise's younger brother. The family, seeing how few clothes Marike has, assumes she's from a less privileged family and wanted to give her some $$ - over-paying her for baby-sitting is a way to do this.

Anise's younger brother reminds Marike of her own. She thinks how different all this is from her real home and family in Afghanistan. After the first US airstrikes on Kabul, Marike had thrown herself into rescue work: sifting through the rubble, erecting shelters, aiding refugees, while taking care of herself and her gravely wounded younger brother.

Until one day she returned to their hovel next to a Red Cross warehouse, and began a descent into personal horror. The warehouse had been bombed by the US, purportedly by mistake. Her beloved brother was dead - part of the collateral damage. Her struggle became one of daily survival. She gradually fell in with one of the armed militant groups for protection.

The flashback culminates with:

A street scene at night. A killing. From a distance, the attack looks like a vampiric feeding. Then the scene zooms in on the knife, a sudden reversal. The killer, frightened, exultant, looks up from the victim, a U.S. soldier. The killer is Marike, with a harder edge to her. She has passed a test, a milestone: her first kill. She thinks she is done being a victim, done being surrounded by victims. Her ragtag comrades approach, celebratory and lead her off. No one bothers to try to conceal or dispose of the body.

Back in the present, Fatima, crouches amid the broken glass atop the compound wall. She watches as a light in an upstairs window goes out.

A week later, at the compound, morning. Fassif is beaming. He has received a dispatch that he -- all of them -- has been singled out for a special honor. They are being entrusted with an important mission, one that will secure his reputation in the eyes of his superiors and perhaps catapult him into the Mullah's inner circle. He will begin their briefing and training this very night. Warns Marike not to be late.

That night, Fatima spies on the compound as Marike comes running up. Late again. Fatima follows her through the defenses and observes Fassif briefing the members of his cell on the plan. A biological threat will be brought to bear simultaneously on several vulnerable targets in and around NYC. Everyone in the city – over nineteen million people – are potential targets. Fassif gives each of them a canister and explains that none of them will return to the compound, or contact any of the others, for any reason until the mission is completed. Marike assumes that Fassif can't mean her, but he does. Her target is the Croton reservoir in Westchester, north of the city. She departs with her burden.

Weeks later, Fatima has tracked down one of the terrorists. She surprises the man and subdues him after a one-sided struggle. They converse briefly, argue and she demands the cylinder. He refuses and she takes his life instead.

Fassif, meanwhile, having examined the body of the deal cellmate, concludes that a member of a mystical sect of the Assassins has been watching them. After a drunken binge at a strip club, during which he spots Fatima following him, he concludes he's been singled out for an even higher honor - being recruited into their ranks.

Marike is having breakfast at the mall with Anise She learns that on the day of the attack, Anise and her family will all be taking in a show and a hotel weekend in the city. Prices for such things have dropped since 9-11. Marike thinks about warning her, but doesn't. Marike is then panicked to see a picture of her murdered cellmate in the papers.

At the terrorist compound, Fatima approaches Fassif, appearing from nowhere. He believes she is here to recruit him for the Assassins. She makes him drink her blood, which he thinks is part of a ritual. In fact, she is enthralling him.

Marike's activation call comes. Fassif's voice on the other end gives the code phrase. Pan back to reveal he is totally enthralled. The call complete, Fatima kills him. That is his reward.

Now that the moment to act is here, Marike finds herself wracked with fear, uncertainty. That night, wandering the suburban streets, she gets drunk on a bottle of cheap wine. It is her first time and she is very bad at it. Anise spots her from her window and asks what she's doing. Marike repeats her friend's words, "Sometimes you just have to say screw it and do something." And wanders off, laughing.

The following night, Marike heads for the reservoir. Surprisingly, she has little trouble penetrating the defenses. This is because Fatima has already knocked the guards out, literally clearing a path for her.

Marike reaches the top of the reservoir - a fifty foot plunge into churning water. She pulls out the canister. Just then, a guard appears, but before he can act, Fatima, moving too quickly for a human, knocks him out.

Marike is shocked by Fatima's appearance and strange abilities. Threatened, she tells the Assamite that no matter what her plans are, the deed is as good as done. She cannot hope to stop her.

Fatima explains she will not stop her. Instead, she makes her an offer, a devil's bargain. She tells Marike there is another brotherhood, one far greater than Fassif and his cell. Fatima can show her that world. She has been watching Marike since Afghanistan and is willing to offer her a chance to truly break free from the cycle of fear and victimization.

Wielding a gun or a bomb or a biological weapon -- inflicting terror on others -- does not take the fear away. Making others victims does not keep you from being a victim. If anything, the opposite is true. Fatima will take her where not even death can harm her. But she wants the cylinder. Such senseless mass destruction is not their way.

Marike asks what happened to Fassif, and the other terrorist. Fatima answers that they were judged by her - and killed. Marike accuses her of being a hypocrite, but Fatima counters it would take her a thousand years to kill as many people as Marike wants to in days. "The real monsters have always been the ones that walk by day."

Marike thinks about it - thinks about abandoning the vengeance written on her heart. She thinks about her friend Anise and all the children in the city. Then the face of her brother appears to her - and she thinks how all the dead children will keep him company in heaven, and how much she wants to keep him company herself.

Twisting the cylinder open, Marike leaps with it into the reservoir, again remembering her friend's words, "Sometimes you just have to say screw it and do something."

Fatima sadly watches her fall. She'd hoped Marike would pass her initiation test. The canister contained nothing but pressurized gas -- it's harmless.

She wonders if some humans have been so scarred by the mindless destructive folly of human monsters that they've been left even more dead than the Kindred.

The End

*Approved 05/31/2002

*First Page Breakdown 06/02/2002

Assamite: The Sleep of Reason

Page Breakdown

1: A suburban mall in Westchester. It's night and the place, with the atmosphere and squalor of a WOD gothic cathedral and the air of a black market, is full of over-privileged teens, cell phones, portable DVD players and a few kids dealing Ecstasy. In fact, in first we can't even tell it's a mall, until

2: SPLASH - a Long Shot - Mahirah , a high school sophomore and her friend, Anise, shopping.

3: Mahirah 's eyes wander, casing the joint. Anise mistakes this for Mahirah 's scoping out the cute boys. She eggs the shy Mahirah on, to go up and introduce herself, "Sometimes you just have to say screw it and do something." Mahirah begs off, "I've got to get home. My dad will go ballistic if I'm late again."

4: Fassif, a middle-aged man, bearded, fastidious and well-dressed, sites a shoulder-mounted anti-tank rocket through a window down upon an upscale Wall Street coffee house. It's the height of the lunch rush. He pulls the trigger and turns away, discarding the spent launcher. He exits without a further glance out the window. No need to look; it's all business, nothing personal. He'll hear everything he needs to know on the 6:00 news.

5: SPLASH - The coffee shop explodes.

6: JFK Airport. A coffin is unloaded

7: placed on transport vehicle and shunted around Customs. In customs, an Islamic woman in full burka is separated from her companion and obviously being harassed by officials, despite her protests of utter innocence.

8: Meanwhile, in an isolated storeroom, the coffin is furtively un-nailed. The handler opens lid and neatly cuts the lining revealing Fatima's body. He curses, not finding the expected narcotics and unceremoniously dumps her out on the concrete floor. Then he begins tearing out the lining with his hands.

9: Fatima arises and closes in on him from behind - one less drug dealer polluting the world. She lets the body slump back into the coffin and shuts the lid, knowing her "next of kin" will claim it soon. Not exactly an in-flight meal, but she wasn't flying first class to begin with.

10: Back in the suburbs, Mahirah arrives "home", late, flustered. Rather than a suburban home, this is a deserted corporate park. She's sneaking back in. Her mind, however, is not on getting busted by mom or dad, but on eluding sentries and disarming alarms.

11: She successfully navigates the defenses and allows herself a sigh of relief as she swings the front door closed behind her. Fassif waits for her at the top of the stairs.

12: He doesn't yell or ground her, but reprimands her for being unprofessional and jeopardizing the cell. He is not actually her father, but the leader of their terrorist cell.

They argue - she storms off for her room. As she goes, his tone becomes more paternal, less business-like. He will not have anyone thinking a "daughter" of his immodest for keeping such hours.

13: Switch to an NYC subway. Fatima is on board, en route to a business rendezvous. The car lurches to a sudden stop. Blackout, silence. She sees the lights of the rest of her subway train pulling away.

14: When the emergency lights flicker on, she is alone in the car, save for the monstrous Nosferatu, Calebros, erstwhile] Prince of NYC. He has gone to great lengths to arrange a "private" meeting. Calebros explains his agents have caught wind of a major terrorist threat to the city. He suspects biological weapons will be brought to bear.

15: His fear is not for the Kindred, but rather for the mortal food-chain and support network. Mass death could destabilize an already-tenuous Camarilla position and provide an opening for the Sabbat. Calebros is not acting in any official capacity; he has provided the money, but will not risk his own people. He hints that there is a war of attrition being fought here, beneath the streets of NYC. He is both surprised and suspicious that Fatima's superiors chose to send someone of her reputation. Fatima implies that, like him, she is here for personal reasons as well -- checking up on a potential recruit in the area.

16: At Anise's plush suburban home, Mahirah speaks briefly with her friend. Anise is leaving on a date though, and we realize Mahirah has been asked to baby-sit for Anise's younger brother. The family, seeing how few clothes Mahirah has, assumes she's from a less privileged family and wanted to give her some $$ - over-paying her for baby-sitting is a way to do this. As Anise leaves, we get a glimpse of Fatima watching from the shadows.

17: Anise's younger brother reminds Mahirah of her own. She thinks how different all this is from her real home and family in Afghanistan.

18: FLASHBACK: After the first US airstrikes on Kabul, Mahirah had thrown herself into rescue work: sifting through the rubble, erecting shelters, aiding refugees, while taking care of herself and her gravely wounded younger brother.

19: Until one day she returned to their hovel next to a Red Cross warehouse, and began a descent into personal horror. The warehouse had been bombed by the US, purportedly by mistake. Her beloved brother was dead - part of the collateral damage.

20: Her struggle became one of daily survival. She gradually fell in with one of the armed militant groups for protection. The flashback culminates with:

A street scene at night. A killing. From a distance, the attack looks like a vampiric feeding. Then the scene zooms in on the knife, a sudden reversal. The killer, frightened, exultant, looks up from the victim, a U.S. soldier.

21: SPLASH - The killer is Mahirah , with a harder edge to her. She has passed a test, a milestone: her first kill. She thinks she is done being a victim, done being surrounded by victims.

22: Her ragtag comrades approach, celebratory and lead her off. No one bothers to try to conceal or dispose of the body. Back in the present, Fatima, crouches amid the broken glass atop the compound wall. She watches as a light in an upstairs window goes out.

23: A week later, at the compound, morning. Fassif is beaming. He has received a dispatch that he -- all of them -- has been singled out for a special honor. They are being entrusted with an important mission, one that will secure his reputation in the eyes of his superiors and perhaps catapult him into the Mullah's inner circle. He will begin their briefing and training this very night. Warns Mahirah not to be late.

24: That night, Fatima spies on the compound as Mahirah comes running up. Late again. Fatima follows her through the defenses and observes Fassif briefing the members of his cell on the plan.

25: A biological threat will be brought to bear simultaneously on several vulnerable targets in and around NYC. Everyone in the city – over nineteen million people – are potential targets. Fassif gives each of them a canister and explains that none of them will return to the compound, or contact any of the others, for any reason until the mission is completed. Mahirah assumes that Fassif can't mean her, but he does. Her target is the Croton reservoir in Westchester, north of the city. She departs with her burden.

26-27: Weeks later, Fatima has tracked down one of the terrorists. She surprises the man and subdues him after a one-sided struggle. They converse briefly, argue and she demands the cylinder. He refuses and she takes his life instead.

28: Fassif, meanwhile, having examined the body of the deal cellmate, concludes that the Assamites have been watching them (which he knows of because…?).

29: After a drunken binge at a strip club, during which he spots Fatima following him, he concludes he's been singled out for an even higher honor - being recruited into their ranks.

30: Mahirah is having breakfast at the mall with Anise She learns that on the day of the attack, Anise and her family will all be taking in a show and a hotel weekend in the city. Prices for such things have dropped since 9-11. Mahirah thinks about warning her, but doesn't. Mahirah is then panicked to see a picture of her murdered cellmate in the papers.

31: At the terrorist compound, Fatima approaches Fassif, appearing from nowhere. He believes she is here to recruit him for the Assassins. [How does he know about the Assamites?] She makes him drink her blood, which he thinks is part of a ritual. In fact, she is enthralling him.

32: Mahirah 's activation call comes. Fassif's voice on the other end gives the code phrase. Pan back to reveal he is totally enthralled. The call complete, Fatima kills him. That is his reward.

33: Now that the moment to act is here, Mahirah finds herself wracked with fear, uncertainty. That night, wandering the suburban streets, she gets drunk on a bottle of cheap wine. It is her first time and she is very bad at it. We spot Fatima following.

34: Anise spots her from her window and asks what she's doing. Mahirah repeats her friend's words, "Sometimes you just have to say screw it and do something." And wanders off, laughing.

35-38: The following night, Mahirah heads for the reservoir. She avoids some of the guards, fights with others.

39: Mahirah reaches the top of the reservoir - a fifty foot plunge into churning water. She holds the canister.

40: Just then, a guard appears, desperate to stop the attack - he threatens to shoot Mahirha if she doesn't step away now. Mahira admires his selflessness.

41: But before he can act, Fatima reveals herself - and, moving too quickly for a mortal, knocks him out.

42: Mahirah is shocked by Fatima's appearance and strange abilities. Threatened, she tells the Assamite that no matter what her plans are, the deed is as good as done. She cannot hope to stop her.

43: Fatima explains she will not stop her. Instead, she makes her an offer, a devil's bargain. She tells Mahirah there is another brotherhood, one far greater than Fassif and his cell. Fatima can show her that world. She has been watching Mahirah since Afghanistan and is willing to offer her a chance to truly break free from the cycle of fear and victimization.

Wielding a gun or a bomb or a biological weapon -- inflicting terror on others -- does not take the fear away. Making others victims does not keep you from being a victim. If anything, the opposite is true. Fatima will take her where not even death can harm her. But she wants the cylinder. Such senseless mass destruction is not their way.

44: Mahirah asks what happened to Fassif, and the other terrorist. Fatima answers that they were judged by her - and killed. Mahirah accuses her of being a hypocrite, but Fatima counters it would take her a thousand years to kill as many people as Mahirah wants to in days. "The real monsters have always been the ones that walk by day."

Mahirah counters - "Is it really about the numbers then?"

45: Nevertheless - Mahirah thinks about it - thinks about abandoning the vengeance written on her heart. She thinks about her friend Anise and all the children in the city. Then the face of her brother appears to her - and she thinks how all the dead children will keep him company in heaven, and how much she wants to keep him company herself.

46-47: DOUBLE PAGE SPLASH: Twisting the cylinder open, Mahirah leaps with it into the reservoir, again remembering her friend's words, "Sometimes you just have to say screw it and do something."

48: Fatima sadly watches her fall. She'd hoped Mahirah would pass her initiation test. The canister contained nothing but pressurized gas -- it's harmless.

She wonders if some humans have been so scarred by the mindless destructive folly of human monsters that they've been left even more dead than the Kindred.

The End

*First Draft Script 07/03/2002

Page One

Panel 1: Claustrophobic POV through the baggage compartment door of a commercial aircraft. A ramp with steel rollers slopes from the opening towards the waiting baggage transport parked on the runway below. The transport has several empty low-railed flatbeds coupled behind it. Rod peeks up into the plane’s baggage compartment. He is a burly, red-faced man in his early forties with a military crew cut. He’s wearing a short-sleeve, button-down shirt (light blue, his name stitched on a patch over the left pocket) and bulky protective earphones.

ROD
Looks like we got us a heavy sleeper…

Panel 2: Exterior of the compartment. Jim, a second handler, younger, tall and thin, dressed identically, comes up behind Rod. He taps one earphone.

JIM
Whazzat?

ROD
Heavy sleeper. You gonna give me a hand or what?

Panel 3: Interior of crowded baggage compartment. Foreground: a coffin, polished black, strapped down. Rod pats the top.

JIM
Geez, Rod, show a little respect, will ya?

ROD
Oh, I got nothing but respect for what’s in here.

Panel 4: The Coffin slides down the conveyor, one man on each side, guiding it.

ROD
Watch! It’s slipping your way!

JIM
Got it. What're you so antsy about? Haven’t seen you like this since your old lady…

ROD
Leave her out of this.

JIM
Sorry.

Page One (Continued)

Panel 5: The coffin has been loaded on the first flatbed. Rod uncouples the rest of the train.

ROD
I’ve got to get cold, dark and handsome over to the Cool Room ASAP. Stay here and unload the rest.

JIM
Yeah, right. You think you’re just gonna drive off and leave me to…?

Panel 6: Rod drives away in the transport, pulling the coffin in tow. He throws up one hand in parting salute.

ROD
Back in ten, fifteen tops. I’ll radio for Vince to come give you a hand.

Page Two

Panel 1: Rod drives right past the Customs building. A sign over the entrance reads “Customs” and below it “Welcome to New York.” Exterior walls are plate glass above waist level.

ROD
Hey, Dracula, you got anything to declare?

Panel 2: Rod drives along one long plate glass wall. Inside, a customs agent is pulling at a struggling Islamic woman in full burka.

ROD
Bring back any souvenirs from the hereafter? No?

Panel 3: Rod parks the transport before a warehouse, an old converted hanger.

ROD
Gifts? Alcohol? Meat products? No offense. I gotta ask these things. 'specially since 9-11.

Panel 4: He opens one of the huge roll-up bay doors. Just inside, strips of overlapping clear plastic, each about 2 feet wide, hang down to cover the opening. A cloud of vapor still seeps out.

ROD
We can talk in here. Get acquainted. It’s a little chilly, but I don’t imagine you’ll mind.

Page Three

Panel 1: Inside the hanger, the cool room is a vast, mostly empty space. There are pallets of perishable goods in the background. Rod’s breath can be seen as he labors over the coffin with a hammer, pulling nails.

ROD
Now don't get the wrong idea. I'm not one of them perverts.

ROD
I’ve just got to retrieve a little something…

Panel 2: Fatima lies in the open coffin. She is a striking Moorish beauty, athletic build. Her formal black high-collared dress is elaborately embroidered at the collar and cuffs. Her face is veiled in cobweb-fine lace. Her hands, folded upon her chest, clutch the handle of an ancient damascene scimitar. Rod puckers his lips in a whistle.

ROD
Well, look at you. Dracula? Hell, it's Sleeping Beauty.

Panel 3: CU: Rod pulls a utility knife from his back pocket.

ROD
You'll forgive me if I don't kiss you first.

Panel 4: Rod cuts a slit in the lining of the coffin’s lid, ignoring the body.

ROD
Come on, baby. I know you’re in here. I’ve been waiting on you for weeks now.

Panel 5: Rod, no longer careful, tears the lining out of the coffin lid in long strips.

ROD
I’ll make sure you get to where you going, nice and safe. No questions, no hassles. I get my five gees from Fadl and that’s the last you’ll see of Uncle Rod.

Page Three (Continued)

Panel 6: An angry Rod upends the coffin, unceremoniously dumping Fatima out onto the concrete slab.

ROD
Damn it! It’s got to be here. It's got to!

Page Four

Panel 1: Background: Rod is bent over the coffin digging in its bottom, cursing. The scimitar lies on the floor nearby. Foreground: Fatima arises majestically. Her “breath” does not steam.

Panel 2: She seizes Rod from behind, jerking his head back.

ROD
Wha..rkkk …?

Panel 3: CU: Her extended fangs puncture his throat.

Panel 4: She lets the bloodless body slump face-first back into the coffin.

FATIMA
Now that you mention it, I do have something to declare.

Panel 5: Fatima bangs the coffin lid closed.

FATIMA
One dead drug smuggler. No real value.

Page Five

Panel 1: INT. UPSCALE SHOPPING MALL/NIGHT. A silhouette of the strange shapes of American teenagers - tall, short, gangly, weird hair, wardrobe and body piercings. The background is indistinct, but likewise dark and gloomy.

MAHIRA CAPTION
Adolescence is a western notion, no more than sixty years old - invented after World War II - to keep young people out of a crowded job market.

Panel 2: Two teen males lean over a portable DVD player, their excited faces lit by the dim screen in the darkness.

MAHIRA CAPTION
So now, wedged into this imagined phase between childhood and adulthood, they must be kept distracted.

Panel 3: A young boy, maybe twelve, trying to smile seductively, passes a small plastic bag with some Ecstacy an older girl. She ignores him and looks at the bag.

MAHIRA CAPTION
And they, believing what they have read, believe they must be served…

Panel 4: In the shadows of an ATM nook, a well-built boy, wearing a faded blue vest that reveals muscular arms, necks passionately with his attractive girlfriend.

MAHIRA CAPTION
…that their own base hungers are somehow the most elevated magic.

Panel 5: The steady, dark brown eyes of Mahira, a fifteen year old Afghan girl. A wisp of black hair hangs down between her eyebrows.

MAHIRA CAPTION
Still, they are people, like us, like me, that time has written on differently.

MAHIRA CAPTION
Or so I strive to remind myself.

Page Six

Panel 1: FULL PAGE SPLASH. An upscale Westchester NY shopping mall in all its evening glory. Teens mill about below, as on Page One, but now we also see a electronics store and a bit of a food court. The view is centered on an escalator, rising up into shadowy gothic splendor - too high roofs, large panes of glass reflecting the lights from the stores. On the escalator, mid-way up, stand MAHIRA and ANISE. Anise is well-rounded, freckled, curly fair red hair - dressed fashionably (for a fifteen year old) with a pierced belly-button. Mahira is slight, visibly thinner, shorter - it seems as though a strong wind could blow her over. She's dressed very plainly, with less skin showing than Anise, but not so conservative that she would stand out. She's looking down at the sprawling teen mall scene with wide eyes, absorbing everything. Anise is giving her a wicked, friendly grin and nudging her with her elbow.

MAHIRA CAPTION
But this place is more deeply different, everything covered with a thin, almost invisible layer of plastic. Even if you cut it into pieces and found its core - it would still all be plastic.

MAHIRA CAPTION
There are no pieces of things that have fallen apart…

MAHIRA CAPTION
… no concrete ghosts of buildings, no splintered support beams wrapped by drying weeds…

MAHIRA CAPTION
… no fallow fields, speckled white with the powdered bones of friends, lovers and family.

MAHIRA CAPTION
At least, not yet.

ANISE
Ah, I see you scoping the tight buns, Mahira! It's okay, everyone does.

Page Seven

Panel 1: CU of Mahira, she's just realized Anise is talking to her.

MAHIRA
Eh? Uh… yes.

Panel 2: Anise gently raises a few strands of Mahira's hair in her fingers as she regards her friend's appearance. Mahira effects a shy smile.

ANISE
Oh, sweetie, you're so pretty with that dark foreign look, please at least let's go pierce your ears.

MAHIRA CAPTION
Anise thinks it's about poverty - pities me because of my poor upbringing and unsophisticated ways.

Panel 3: A CU of Mahira's EAR. Anise's fingers, the nails decorated with a wild design, gently hold the lobe.

ANISE
It doesn't hurt at all, I swear! Well, maybe a little… but only for a second! Are you afraid of blood?

MAHIRA CAPTION
Aum Shinrikyo, which tried to kill thousands by flooding the Tokyo subway with poison gas was composed of highly educated, well-off children.

Panel 4: The two walk past a storefront containing a wall of TV Sets - each shows an identical image of George W. Bush. Mahira is slightly bent over, as if ashamed.

MAHIRA CAPTION
And I have met farmers with more wisdom than any CEO or politician that blubbers on CNN.

MAHIRA
I… can't. If I'm late heading home again, my dad will go… ballistic?

Panel 5: As they head for the exit, Anise pops a cigarette in her mouth.

ANISE
Ballistic, eh? I'll make you American yet, girl-friend.

MAHIRA CAPTION
It is about being hollow. It is about living hollow. It is about what being hollow ultimately destroys.

Page Eight

Panel 1: Background: A busy upscale Wall Street coffee house, lunchtime. Foreground: seen magnified through the circular sight of a LAW shoulder-mounted rocket launcher -- a seated couple, arguing.

FADL CAPTION
“The law is equal before all of us; but we are not all equal before the law.”

Panel 2: Fadl, a middle-aged man, bearded, fastidious, well-dressed in jacket and tie, wearing sleek black driving gloves, aims the launcher through a window. The letters M72 LAW are visible on the tube.

FADL CAPTION
“There is one law for the rich and another for the poor.”

Panel 3: CU, Fadl squeezes trigger.

FADL CAPTION
"One law for the forceful and another for the feeble.”

Panel 4: Fadl discards spent tube and walks from the apartment, straightening his tie.

FADL CAPTION
“One law for the brave and another for the timid.”

Page Nine

Panel 1: Splash – Coffee shop explodes -- a grenade-sized charge.

FADL CAPTION
The trick, of course, is to stay on the right side of the LAW.

Copyright © 1997-2006 Eric Griffin