“Stand Down” Week 2 – Genesis, Part 1

Slow pan-in on TV screen. Focus has shifted to a police officer stepping out from cover, positioning a megaphone in front of his mouth.

TV-POLICE OFFICER: (Speaking into megaphone) Hello, it’s me, again, it’s me, Tom. If you can’t respond at all, or at least show your face, we’re gonna have to come in there. All we wanna know at this point is that mister and missus Warren are all right, okay?

All the officers behind cover cringe as a second-floor window opens. Another frisbee flies out, going over the officer’s heads. As it goes, half of them keep their eyes on it. Tom lets out a loud cough.

TV-POLICE OFFICER TOM: Yeah, and we’d like an explanation of those frisbees. If you could please stop throwing those, you’re making us all anxious out here.

The window closes.

TV-POLICE OFFICER TOM: Now, listen, it’s only when the police get anxious, and worried, that they make mistakes, all right? We don’t want anyone getting hurt today. 

Tom’s coughing grows intense.

The slowly descending “sparkles” have grown more numerous now. No one seems to notice.

The rest of the police force is starting to cough.

The camera turns to the news reporter, who is sat on the side of the curb holding their chest, with another hand on their mouth. They are more hacking than coughing.

The camera turns back to the standoff. As Tom makes his way back behind cover, he has to stop and lean heavily on one of the cruisers. He is now struggling to cough.

TV-POLICE OFFICER TOM: I can’t breathe– I can’t breathe–

In a moment, the entire police force is hacking and on the ground.

The cameraman is starting to panic. There are exclamations of difficulty and pain in breathing among the officers, and the news reporter has fallen to the ground.

Switch focus to Ian and his parents.

IAN: What the fuck?! 

Ian holds his phone up to his ear after putting in a number. 


Scott is clenching his teeth, his eyes wild as (switching to a bird’s-eye-view shot) he is swerving through traffic. Cars he cuts off are honking at him, their drivers yelling profanities. Switching to a view at car-floor level, Jordan’s legs can be seen hanging limply off the seat. Near them on the floor, drenched in viscera, lies the arrow.


Interior of police cruiser. POV of someone sitting in the driver’s seat. In their peripheral vision, the door of the Warren residence is seen to be open. A full squad of incapacitated (or dead) police officers, as well as a news crew in the same condition, can be seen. One of the police officers has been stripped of their gear, and the crew’s camera and microphone are nowhere to be seen. In the passenger’s seat of the cruiser lies: a megaphone, an officer’s vest and equipment, the film crew’s equipment, a frisbee and a large black duffel bag. POV shifts to the ignition, where a key is already inserted.

GRAVELLY VOICE OF POV: Way to use your runlock, retard.

As the ignition is turned and the engine revs, a communication begins to sound through the cruiser’s radio.

POLICE SCANNER: We have a 22350 heading down on ___ street, suspect was driving a (description of Scott’s car) through traffic and nearly caused some collisions.

Switch to view from Warren residence’s driveway as one of the police cruisers forming the barricade turns and jets down the road.


Bird’s-eye shot of a sprawling body of water, with no end to it in sight. A label on the bottom-left of the screen reads The Aegean sea. A wrecked boat can be seen drifting lazily through it, the sun beating down on it. Slowly lowering to a perspective on-deck, many emaciated bodies of grown men and women can be seen. Each of them are unmoving. Among them is one equally emaciated, but upright, child. He is pressing down on the chest of an adult woman in a pathetic attempt at CPR. A pop can be heard from one of his thin arms, and with a squeak of pain he collapses by the woman. Now right down next to her, and watching as a fly lands on her still face, the boy begins to cry.


A car alarm can be heard to sound nearby as we have a close-up view of a pigeon resting on a pine tree’s branch, grooming itself. Pan outwards to include a balding man exiting a car, its headlights flashing even as there is a huge dent in its front, courtesy of the parked car its crashed bumper-to-bumper with. Switch to view above the man’s head as he looks down the road, and sees a 2011 Dodge Grand Caravan continuing to speed through it.

BALDY: Crazy asshole.


View from just beside the Grand Caravan as it speeds onto the bridge above sixteen-mile creek.

A birds-eye view shot reveals the sprawling forest beneath the bridge, as well as the cars ahead of the Caravan pulling over to avoid it. Switch to view beside Scott inside the vehicle. He is visibly anxious.

SCOTT: Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Police sirens sound in the distance, somewhere behind the Caravan. Recognizing this, Scott pulls over to one side of the bridge, getting out of the car and panickedly waves the cruiser down. As the sirens cease, and the cruiser begins to slow down about 30 feet away from the Caravan, Scott sees something he doesn’t like in the cruiser’s window. He turns back to the open driver’s seat door, a taser charge narrowly missing him as it hits the door’s window. 

Cringing back from this still-buzzing round embedded in glass, Scott hops back into the car, turning the key and stomping on the gas pedal. He closes the door as he accelerates, creating a screeching sound as he goes.

Scott’s eyes shift to his rear-view mirror, which shows the cruiser as it begins to give chase. A moment after he turns his eyes back to the road, he spots what looks to be an oversized, neon-pink grappling hook attached to a similar chain fly into view through the front window, falling back as it catches nothing. Through the side window, it can be seen clattering onto the road to the car’s right.

The rear-view mirror shows a bulky, clawed crystalline arm of the same color as the hook holding its chain. It is hanging out of the cruisers driver’s-seat window. After a moment, it retracts back into the vehicle.

Scott alternates his focus between the road and his gloved hand, having taken it off the wheel. Getting a POV shot as he examines the palm, we see just what the brick on his arm is wired up to: a 6x6cm translucent gray-white plate integrated into the black glove. Scott looks backwards at the now gaining cruiser, and takes his foot off the acceleration pedal.

Quickly enough, as the caravan is still moving, the cruiser pulls up beside it.

Scott raises his gloved arm towards the cruiser, lowering his window.

As the cruiser reaches him, he sees that it’s already got its own window open. An angered grimace spreads across his face.

Out of the cruiser’s window leans Zain, one hand on the cruiser’s wheel and another, hanging out of the window, holding a megaphone. His face is ravaged with what undoubtedly is burn scars. All of him that is visible, save for his head, is clad in what seems to be angular plates of neon-pink crystal.

He raises the megaphone to his mouth, passion on his face and in his voice as he speaks.

ZAIN: (through megaphone) Pull over now, or your parents get it.