EXT. CITY - NIGHT
The outlaying areas of Sherwood Heights are in disrepair:
Buildings crumbling, people shuffling past garbage rotting on
corners, druggies in doorways, and holo-screens posted on
every block depicting the same message.
HOLO-SCREEN PUNDIT
Citizens are urged to be extremely
cautious of Insurg activity and are
encouraged to report any suspicious
behavior.
INT. PLANETARY PRISON #196-8, CELL - NIGHT
Green lasered bars shed an eerie light onto OSCAR STEELE, 35.
He listens to screams of a man being tortured.
Oscar is physically chiselled. The tattered prison jumpsuit
reveals multiple scars on his frame. A tatoo of a tiger claw
rips his chest open, blood drips, and then it resets and
starts the process over again. Sitting on his bunk, he rubs
his clean-shaven head.
Oscar peers out into the causeway, then paces from one wall to
the other. The screams end bathing the wing in silence.
OSCAR
Charlie? Charlie, you 'right?
Flanked by TWO GUARDS, GLENN, 40, the small but muscular
Captain, struts up to Oscar's cell; he smacks the lasered bars
with an RAZORED BATON creating a thunderous crack.
GLENN
Your Insurg brother can't hear you,
Oscar. I've gotta hand it to 'ole
Charlie, though. Lasted a lot longer
than I thought.
Oscar glances towards Glenn's bloody hands.
GLENN (cont'd)
Oh, don't worry; he's not missin'
anything important. Not a damn thing
in this place worth listening to
besides me. And old Charlie heard me
loud and clear.
Glenn leads a chorus of laughter as Oscar's eyes narrow.
GLENN (cont'd)
Here, why don't ya ask how he's doin',
maybe tell him a joke.
Throwing a piece of flesh into Oscar's cell, Glenn watches
Charlie's EAR land at Oscar's feet. Oscar doesn't move.
OSCAR
Just so you know, I'm taking you out.
GLENN
Yeah, like that. That's funny.
OSCAR
I wasn't done yet; it will be you and
every rotten piece of the PCG.
Glenn scowls and is about to pounce when JOHNSON, a towering
Swede in a guard uniform, touches his shoulder.
JOHNSON
Sir, Warden Suri needs Oscar right
away.
GLENN
Warden Suri is a fuckin' idiot.
JOHNSON
Sir?
GLENN
Fuck it. Take him. I don't know what
I'd do without you damn Insurgs to
keep me entertained.
Johnson lowers the lasered bars and shuffles Oscar out. Oscar
eyeballs Glenn as he passes by.
EXT. PCG CORPORATE OFFICE - NIGHT
This massive, striking glass building bustles with activity
while people dressed in fine clothes saunter by.
Holo-screens direct people to exquisite shops filled with
jewelry, clothes, electronics, etc. A few PEOPLE circle a
couple of the holo-screens and watch a PUNDIT. Behind the
pundit, a fire-fight between PCG security forces and a rag-tag
group of armed men rages.
HOLO-SCREEN PUNDIT
PCG security forces clashed with
Insurgs in Columbus today as the rogue
group tried to disrupt food supplies.
Insurgs have been responsible for 112
civilian and over 40 PCG security
forces deaths so far this year.
INT. BOARDROOM - DAY
Spacious and exquisite, the room sports holo-screens at either
end of a large conference table, a wall-sized fish tank full
of life, and a buffet style table loaded with food.
VP SARIFF, 50, eyes his various DIRECTORS, men and women in
professional attire.
DIRECTOR PAWS, 35, fondles a waitress's ass. The waitress,
ALEXA, 30, jumps and spills some plump shrimp on a FUSSY
DIRECTOR.
ALEXA
Oh! I am so sorry.
As Alexa tries to wipe off the mess, Director Paws leads a
chorus of chuckles.
FUSSY DIRECTOR
This tie is worth more than you make
in a year.
ALEXA
Yes, sir. I am sorry.
FUSSY DIRECTOR
You may....
VP Sariff slides between them.
VP SARIFF
Now, now, don't be too harsh. Buy a
tie, put it on the company account,
and take your seat.
Fussy Director wipes some sweat from his brow, bows and sits
down at the conference table.
ALEXA
Sir, I couldn't....
Sariff turns to Alexa and smiles as he puts his arm around her
shoulder.
VP SARIFF
Oh, but you could. We'll attend to it
later. We must get this meeting
underway. Directors!
With a sweep of his arm, the rest of the directors take their
places at the conference table.
INT. PLANETARY PRISON #196-8, OFFICE - DAY
Johnson and TWO GUARDS walk Oscar down the hallway.
OSCAR
We are a go.
JOHNSON
Now?
OSCAR
Now.
Johnson stops Oscar in the hallway.
JOHNSON
Sir, we're not ready.
Oscar stares.
JOHNSON (cont'd)
Oscar, I know Glenn is a monster and
what he did to Charlie, I mean, what
he did to Charlie was awful, but I....
OSCAR
Is this about you?
JOHNSON
No, no of course not. Look, Oscar,
when we get out, let's just go. We
could get to Worldcom territory.
OSCAR
You want us to run? Till when?
JOHNSON
There's no reason we have to go
picking a fight we can't win.
Oscar claps his arm around Johnson and smiles.
OSCAR
Don't worry, mate, Charlie has enough
balls for both of ya.
JOHNSON
We'll need a lot more than big balls,
Oscar. We'll need an army.
OSCAR
Get on the com, Johnson.
Oscar's wild glare makes Johnson nod then raise his
Communicator.
INT. PLANETARY PRISON #196-8 - DAY
WARDEN SURI, a 60-year-old Asian man, sits at his desk. On
the desk a clear pitcher of water with two glasses rests next
to a large basket of fruit.
Oscar is led into the office and eases himself into one of the
empty chairs. Johnson positions himself behind Oscar. TWO
GUARDS stand on either side of the door.
WARDEN SURI
Oscar, would you like some water?
It's fresh. None of that recycled
junk.
OSCAR
This must be a special occasion.
Johnson pours two glasses of water; he covets the clean
liquid. Warden Suri takes a long drink and smiles.
WARDEN SURI
Indeed. Great art is clear thinking
about mixed feelings, Oscar, and what
we have done here is a masterpiece.
Warden Suri presses a button on his desk and a holo-screen
appears on the wall showing various areas of the prison.
WARDEN SURI (cont'd)
Work production up thirty percent
while acts of aggression are down
forty percent. Our accountants
project another record profit for the
fourth quarter. Even the Regional
Director herself is coming down here
to see how we are doing it.
OSCAR
Someone's in line for a bonus.
Warden Suri turns toward Oscar and can't help but smile.
WARDEN SURI
We will all get perks, Oscar. I'd
like you to travel the continent with
me, help me explain what we've done
here, how to identify a prisoner like
yourself who can mediate a population.
OSCAR
I understand you're taking the
Chilsong Chamber offline.
WARDEN SURI
That's right! We are truly pioneers.
Oscar, no other warden on the planet
has the...
OSCAR
Balls...
Oscar turns to Johnson, and a smile curls on his lips.
WARDEN SURI
Ha! Yes, if you say so, balls.
Oscar goes to Warden Suri's side and they both watch the holo
screen that depicts convicts working.
OSCAR
Well, Warden, treating men like human
beings is not truly innovative. You
still have the orchard.
Oscar half points to the fruit on Warden's Suri's desk and the
Warden goes to the fruit and picks up a plump peach.
WARDEN SURI
Of course, it's a hefty profit. But
we are not purposefully working men to
death to plant them under the trees
anymore, are we?
Warden Suri takes a large bite from the peach, juice runs down
his chin.
WARDEN SURI (cont'd)
We've turned this place around.
Oscar continues to watch the holo-screen, his back to the
warden.
OSCAR
Warden, I commend you. Not many men
would treat cons fairly and with
respect, let alone allow an "Insurg"
to mediate between management and the
population. It's a special man who
would do that.
WARDEN SURI
Yes, yes, one must risk big to win
big.
Warden Suri again sits down in his chair, all smiles.
OSCAR
Your actions as a man of honor made my
decision not to kill you an easy one.
WARDEN SURI
Oscar?
Warden Suri laughs while the Guards look at one another.
OSCAR
Though I must warn you....
WARDEN SURI
That's enough.
OSCAR
There will be casualties and I will
take full responsibility.
WARDEN SURI
That's quite enough! Sit down.
Warden Suri pushes his chair back and stands up, pointing a
finger at Oscar's turned back.
WARDEN SURI (cont'd)
You may not speak to me like that, no
matter how much we have worked
together. You are still prisoner #32
6581 and I am still Warden.
Oscar turns and faces Warden Suri.
OSCAR
I truly hope what I do here does not
diminish your masterpiece, but the PCG
is rotting and this is just one arm
off its sick body.
WARDEN SURI
Johnson, take this man back to his
cell till he regains his faculties.
Oscar again turns his back to Warden Suri and Johnson. As the
Guards come toward Oscar, Johnson lets loose a belly laugh and
grabs Warden Suri's chair with his big hands.
JOHNSON
Oh Warden, can't we just turn your bad
attitude around?
With one large sweep of Johnson's arms, Warden Suri is
spinning in his chair. Oscar turns back to the Warden and
smiles.
OSCAR
Johnson, we don't want him to purge
all that delicious fruit, do we?
JOHNSON
Oh, I suppose not.
Johnson stops spinning and the Warden looks sick.
OSCAR
Please gentlemen, help yourselves.
The Guards swoop in on the fruit and water. The Guards wipe
juice from their mouths and Oscar turns off the holo-screen.
INT. BOARDROOM - DAY
Over the course of the meeting, a director may raise his glass
and it is filled with water by GLYM, 11, or Alexa. Otherwise
all eyes are on Sariff.
VP SARIFF
Insurgs are making a move to take over
the Western market.
DIRECTOR PAWS
Every corporation with North American
aspirations will smell blood.
VP SARIFF
Indeed.
Side talk among the directors.
FUSSY DIRECTOR
Why all this bull shit? We outfit out
security forces with Preds and let
them deal with the dogs.
Director Paws giggles.
FUSSY DIRECTOR (cont'd)
What is so amusing, director?
DIRECTOR PAWS
Preds on our streets?
FUSSY DIRECTOR
You don't have faith in our forces,
Paws? They are the best god-damned
forces on the planet.
Directors nod their heads and murmur agreement.
DIRECTOR PAWS
VP Sariff didn't need a board meeting
to put that idea on the table.
Paws holds out his glass and Glym fills it with water.
FUSSY DIRECTOR
Then we cut the feed to the World Cup
and blame it on the Insurgs.
Paws puts his head in his hands as if massaging a horrible
headache.
FUSSY DIRECTOR (cont'd)
Yes, yes, and the people will detest
the Insurgs, do anything to stop them.
Director Paws looks up.
DIRECTOR PAWS
You done? We don't get the people to
hate them, we get them to love us --
we give them more food rations and
free access to the World Cup.
FUSSY DIRECTOR
Cut into our margins?!
VP Sariff raises his glass and the table goes silent. Glym
sprints out, fills Sariff's cup, and goes back to his place.
VP SARIFF
I'm glad at least one of you uses that
grey matter in his skull for something
original, like thinking. I best watch
out for you, eh, Paws?
Sariff raises his glass and Paws raises his in toast. Fussy
Director sits back in his chair in disbelief.
VP SARIFF (cont'd)
Next item, I received word from home
office that someone is shaving
profits.
