“Stand Down” Week 1 – Move Forward


Midday. Grey sky suggestive of Winter months, but no snow. High shot over road in Oakville.

Sounds of a car’s horn blaring can be heard.

Grey 2011 Dodge Grand Caravan moves on screen, going fast. Driving is unsteady, and faster than that of other cars. Horn continues to blare from car.

Zoom-in on car. Move to car interior, perspective from car door(s). Jordan is hunched over in the back seat, clutching his upper-left chest through his blue hoodie with both arms. A red stain has formed there. Jordan’s face is pained. He is not wearing his seat-belt.

JORDAN: God fucking damn it, aaaahhh!! This fucking hurts, fuck! That crazy fuck! Am I gonna fucking die!? 

Jordan kicks the front passenger seat repeatedly, reeling back in agony.

Move to Scott in driver’s seat, obviously panicking. Repeatedly pressing on the car-horn. He is wearing on one hand a bulky and reflective black glove, though one might call it more of a gauntlet. This hand he does not put on the wheel. In the passenger’s seat is a similarly bulky and reflective black chestpiece, reminiscent of hockey pads. He looks back at Jordan in irregular intervals while speaking to him.

SCOTT: You’re not going to die, I’m going as fast as I can! Just try to relax your body, and put pressure on the wound, or something!

Brief cut to the back seat next to Jordan. A full- black biker’s helmet can be seen on it, with what seems to be a VR headset affixed in place of the visor.

JORDAN: Putting pressure on it”’ll fucking kill me, fuck! This thing feels like it’s fucking going deeper, aauuughhh!! It’s gonna fucking cut an organ, I have to pull it out!!

SCOTT: Don’t fucking pull it out, you’ll bleed to death!!

Jordan moves his hand to reveal the wooden shaft and feathered end of an arrow, which is dug into his upper-left chest through his hoodie. He puts both hands on this shaft, and bares his clenched teeth.

SCOTT: Jordan

At first, Jordan lets out only a few barely-audible squeaks as he tugs on the arrow shaft. As it actually begins to budge, however, he begins to yell. At a point he wheezes heavily as he inhales, choking for a moment before coughing up mucus mixed with blood.

As he is in the middle of a slow-moving tug, cut to road-height, side-view of the car’s wheels as they run over a manhole. Cutting back to Jordan, the sudden shock brings Jordan to tear the arrow all the way out, the head obscured by considerable viscera.

Cutting back to Scott, there is laboured huffing and wheezing coming from the back of the car. Scott begins to speak a moment after the sounds stop entirely.

SCOTT: Jordan. Jordan?!

Scott reaches back to touch Jordan’s leg, watching the road. View still does not switch to Jordan in the back seat.

Switch to view beside Scott’s head as he turns to look at Jordan.

Jordan has slumped over to the side on the seat, his head now laying on top of the biker helmet. His eyes are closed, and his chest is not moving. Blood coats the tips of his fingers. A thin trail of bloody mucous is visible trailing from his mouth onto the VR visor of the helmet.

Scott turns back to the road, putting both hands onto the wheel. 

Having moved his right arm up, a black brick is visible strapped to his upper arm, with wires running from it into the glove.

Zoom onto gas pedal. The foot on it pushes it all the way down, and an engine is heard getting louder.


Midday. Interior of Ian’s house. View from window shows the same grey sky. Ian is in the TV room, near said window, watching the screen, currently covering celebrity shite.

TV-SELENA GOMEZ: Well, the reason I broke up with Effron in the first place was because he just had no fashion sense. It was only later that I discovered my homosexuality and fell for Miley.

Ian is in clutching a pillow to his chest, reacting with laughter and “aww”s like the fucking sheep he is. Ian’s father enters the TV room and sits beside him.

MR. CVET: What’cha watching, son?

IAN: Selena just absolutely roasted Zack Effron! They broke up!

Mr. Cvet releases a quiet sigh. Ian’s mother enters.

MS. CVET: Ian, give me the remote, I want to check the traffic.

Ian hands her the remote, and she changes the channel to the news, which had just finished covering the traffic.

MS. CVET: Oh, damn. Here, Ian, you can–

IAN: Wait; that’s Scott’s house.

Focus switches to the TV screen, where Scott’s house is indeed in focus. The area around it has been cordoned off with police tape, and police vehicles are positioned around it, with officers taking cover behind them as they aim their firearms at the building. The house’s ground-level windows have been smashed open. At some points there seems to be some sparkling in the air, as if glitter was falling from somewhere.

TV-NEWS REPORTER: I’m here in front of the Warren residence in Oakville, Ontario, where we currently have a standoff taking place between the police and an unidentified, though surely armed, individual. The police have the home surrounded but are unable to approach due to the suspect’s claims that he has two hostages, these being mister and missus Warren. The only action from who we’re assuming to be the suspect have been the opening of a top floor window, followed by the tossing out of a frisbee, most of which have been gathered here. 

The camera changes focus for a moment, pointing to the a pile of frisbees at the reporter’s feet, before turning back to the standoff.

TV-NEWS REPORTER: Police were first notified of the disturbance upon neighbors reporting loud sounds of screaming and breaking glass from the building. Oh! It seems that they’re taking out a megaphone. Point the camera at them, we’re going to get to see some negotiations. 

IAN- Oh fuck. I have to call Zain.