#i have such a clear vision of a scene where the stairway is cluttered with little angry clouds of words

[patrice-bergerons]

I really want to write a Morse and Thursday fic where they have this near death experience which traps them inside Morse’s mind--specifically, in his childhood home from before his mum died.

To survive, Morse has to confront the death of his mum and as a corollary his abandonment issues which he cannot do without Thursday's help. But! here is the kicker: the fic is set at the height of their Zenana fight. Even at their closest, Morse’s childhood trauma is never something he would have shared with Thursday; now, they can barely stand to look at each other, and yet if they don't find a way to work thru it together they are both going to die. I could have so much fun 👀

[preyed-llama]

Death’s Angel

Chapter 7: 2079 words

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Summary: Superheroes weren’t rare, but they were uncommon, it’s not that much of a surprise when they end up at the same place at the same time. And it’s certainly not uncommon for them to team up.

The Trio were well known for their powers and were symbols of hope. Death’s Angel always refused to join them in the light in the past.

Ship: Future Analogical.

Author’s note: I’m sorry it’s so late. It won’t happen again. 

Warnings: mentions of death, violence, injuries, blood, guns (tell me if I missed anything)

Virgil raced down the streets. The buildings loomed over him, threatened to suffocate him. He didn’t stop to think as he ran through crowds and down streets. Invisibility wasn’t something he could use if he wanted to make it to Wiro without passing out. People gasped. Some tried to record him. It was reckless. God. What was he turning into? Would he have to call himself a prince next?

He raced through people, some women screamed, some darted out of the way. Some people screamed out his name. This was the most people had seen of him. It made his skin crawl. He had done it, he’d entered the public eye. This was not something that could stick. At least it wasn’t rush hour. He could see the sun sinking under. Logan shouldn’t have taken the late shift. Honestly, it seemed really irresponsible to have late shifts when superheroes and villains were known for coming out at night. Some companies didn’t actually care about their workers, that was true about any time.

He rounded the corner. Wiro stood over him, looming like the final boss battle. The night had brought a freezing temperature drop and some cover. Virgil let out a sigh and shifted invisible. He turned off his masks voice, the last thing he needed was his mask translating his mutterings and giving his position away. He slid through the fence and silently cursed his lack of slight. The building was at least twelve stories high, and Logan could’ve been on any of those floors. Oh, and he’d have to save the others as well. He walked straight through the door and looked around.

There was a man with a mask and a gun sitting behind a computer. He was talking into the earpiece. Virgil frowned and nibbled his lip, it would be so easy to kill him silently. He shook his head and walked over, if he could knock them out then he would knock them out, no senseless killings. He looked down at his uniform and silently cursed his forgetfulness. He could’ve brought his taser, or a spare wire that his poorly programmed robots didn’t need. He cursed himself for forgetting weapons, again.

He walked behind the man and looked at the monitor, there were guards in every room, some people had been shot. A cord held his gun up. Virgil smiled as a plan formed in his head. He quickly pulled the earpiece out of the man’s ear and covered the man’s mouth in one fluid motion. The man struggled as Virgil dropped the earpiece to the ground and crushed it under his shoe. He moved his hands down to the man’s throat and pushed all his force against it. The man spluttered and gasped for air as he tried to move out of Virgil’s grip. His hand flew up to try and pry Virgil’s off as his other hand grabbed his gun.

Virgil was quick to move out of where the man was aiming. It took several more moments before the man slumped over. Virgil almost felt bad, suffocation was not something he ever wanted to die by again. The man was wheezing, but unconscious.

The gun hung suspended in air. Virgil had to fight the guilt as he undid the tie and held he cord in his hand. He looked down at the loaded gun and removed the clip before he tipped the bullets out into the bin and threw the clip away, anything to slow them down. He pulled the pistol and holster away from the man before he clipped it around his leg.

An elevator or the stairs. Virgil nibbled on his lip as he chose the stairs. He raced up them to the first floor. Two men stood facing the stairway. One was talking to himself as the other stood perfectly still, gun raised and ready. Virgil silently walked passed them and stood behind them

He passed into the man on the right’s body. His own body fell to the ground, alerting the other man. The man walked over as Virgil pulled the cord free from his unconscious (dead?) body. He wrapped the cord around the man’s neck and dragged him away from the staircase. He gasped and struggled for some time. Far too long then Virgil was comfortable with. Virgil tapped the elevator button as the man collapsed. He pushed the unconscious body into the elevator and shifted back to his own body.

The man he’d possessed snapped back to reality quicker than anyone else he’d possessed. He looked up at Virgil with a dazed look. His face hardened as he shifted the hold on his gun. Virgil shifted invisible and pulled the pistol out of the holster the man stumbled away from the staircase, clearly listening for any sound. Virgil kicked the gun out of his grip. The man stumbled back as the gun cluttered against the wall. He connected the gun to the back of the man’s head.

Blood leaked out of his head wound making Virgil shudder. He quickly raced down the halls checking for other men. The floor seemed clear, thankfully. By the time he had reached the stairs again, the blood had spread further. Virgil stepped around it before he raced up the stairs to the next floor. There was only one guard there, easy enough to knock out without much attention. He made sure to crush the ear piece again.

Several floors later held the danger. He took out the two men on the stairway by slamming their heads together. It wasn’t quite as nice as it was shown in movies. There was a loud crack that made Virgil flinch. He dropped the two unconscious (possibly dead) bodies and moved down the hall. Voices drifted out of the rooms, whispers mixed with shouts. He looked through the first door. Empty. The next. One guard, two scientists. The next. Four guards, Logan’s room.

He sunk through door two and hooked the cord around the guard’s neck. He shifted visible and heard the scientists gasp. The guard gasped and struggled. His face shifted a painful shade of blue before he fell still. One more earpiece crushed. Only one more room left.

Virgil shifted invisible again after waving at the two scientists. He stepped through door three. The guard closest to the door was the first to fall. He kicked the gun out of his grasp. The moment his foot hit the ground he roundhouse kicked the man’s head. His head connected to the wall before he collapsed to the ground. A sickening crack had caused a few scientists to cry out.

The guards turned the guns to him. He slammed the pistol into the attacker’s head. He buckled and fell to the ground. Guns turned on him again. He dropped the ground just as bullets flew through the air. They burrowed into the wall above Virgil.

He quickly moved and kicked one of the men in the stomach. He stumbled back and hit the wall, holding Virgil’s leg in place. He shifted his leg and hopped back. A gun was aimed at the scientists. He tried to possess them, but it was too late. Several bullets were flying towards the scientist. His body fell to the ground. The gun was in his hand.

Virgil quickly shifted back and pulled out the pistol as his body gasped. A few scientists fell. Virgil pulled the trigger. It cut through the air. A large hole dripped blood out of the attacker’s head. He barely had time to register what had happened when a foot connected with his side. Virgil let out a groan before he caught the next foot that was flying towards him. He used the momentum to trip the man over. He landed against the table and let out a shout. He tipped over the table with the man on it and quickly pulled the gun out of his grip.

The man tried to run, only to pass out on his way to the door. Blood was dripping down the back of his head. Virgil looked over at the scientists who seemed to be shaken, they raced to the door and quickly pushed everyone out of the door, everyone except the injured scientists and Logan. He walked over and checked the injuries, one man had a bullet wound in his stomach that was bleeding heavily, blood had already pooled around him, although some of the blood was possibly from the woman next to him with a bullet wound in her chest.

It was bleeding heavily, and she didn’t appear to be breathing. Virgil felt sick to the core as he checked for a pulse. It was weak, barely nudging his fingers. He pulled his hand back and shifted it intangible, the blood slipped through the air and into the puddle on the ground. He could recall a ground floor directly below. With a shaky breath, he extended his hand to Logan who quickly accepted it as he stared at the scene.

Virgil rest his knee on top of the woman’s stomach and hand on the other man before he shifted them all intangible. The floors flew passed his vision as he felt every part of him separate and connect again. Exhaustion was burying itself deep in his bones. He quickly shifted their intangibility slightly, they sunk through the ground like quick sand. He quickly pulled them out, making them tangible once they weren’t at risk of being trapped in the ground. He pulled himself out and tried to keep his eyes open as his vision spun.

A hand rested on his shoulder as Logan’s voice filled his ears. “You should leave, the police will arrive in a few minutes.” Virgil let out a shaky breath and leaned further into the touch, the world seemed to be slipping away as Logan’s words didn’t register. The hand on his shoulder gently shook him out of the sleep. He looked up to see Logan staring at him with worry buried deep under a layer of forced neutrality.

His feet were unsteady as he pulled himself up. The two people injured people were being helped by fellow scientists. Virgil smiled tiredly and felt his head roll forwards as his eyes started to close. He darted his eyes up when he saw blood on Logan’s clothes. He turned on his mask’s voice and sat Logan down, much to his annoyance. He probably only had two minutes before the police arrived.

He tried to move the cloth that sat over the possible wound in Logan’s arm. Logan’s good arm grabbed his hand and pushed it away, his head shook ever so slightly. “Logan! You’re injured.” Virgil hissed out. He pulled his hand from Logan’s grip and moved the fabric away. A bullet was lodged in Logan’s shoulder. The blood had already soaked through the shirt and the lab coat. Virgil looked at him in the eyes and gently run his fingers along Logan’s arm. “You’re getting that checked out.” He started to move his hand down to clasp Logan’s when red and blue lights flashed in the background.

Virgil flinched back and raced out of the door, the exhaustion was only dismissed by the adrenaline that was pumping through his body. He didn’t bother shifting invisible, although he did have to shift intangible when he reached the fence. He barely made it to an alleyway before he slumped over. Days like this made him regret not telling Remy about his secret identity. His vision blurred as the world seemed to get more and more distant. He quickly called Remy and removed his mask. If he was at all awake, maybe he would’ve regretted it, but the exhaustion and threat of being discovered by a stranger was enough to fight it off.

“Hey, Gurl? You need a favour?” He could hear the bitterness buried under Remy’s cheerful tone. He always did hold a grudge well.

He groaned as tried to keep himself awake. His eyes couldn’t stay open and his body felt like lead. “’m in an alley out the front of Wiros…” His voice drifted off as his hand dropped to the ground.

He could hear Remy call out his name as the cold air pulled him into sleep. He didn’t have the energy to move as the world around him disappeared. Darkness was surrounding him, filling him. Maybe he could just sleep until Remy arrived… maybe no one would find him…

Taglist: (feel free to ask to be added or removed)

@paradoxicalpatton @ab-artist @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @its-myst @capripian-light-of-my-derse @ravenclawunicorn1 @confinesofpersonalknowledge @panic-wizard-sex-walrus @princeanxious @fricksonsticks @equipodeleo @virgilmydarkstrangeson @jayzwonderland @ayanoaishi666 @fullmetallovr21 @cornthathasbeenpopped @ocotopushugs @jadekitten1 @scorching-scotch @lesliealiceinwonderland @hajimelime @sassysoysauce @depressed-alone @ticklemeem0 @alix-the-skeleton @nienna14 @phlying-squirrel @mockingjaysinger @queerly-anxious @isle-of-flightless-assbutts @virgilscat @fantazyiskey @magnificentme513 @hissesssss

[sidguptawesomeart]

Usufruct Urbanity Script

INT. The Child's Room - Day

It's pitch black.

We hear noises.

Sounds of the city. People hollering, car horns honking, trains screeching by.

They get louder. Louder. LOUDER and...

An eye opens.

THE CHILD (18, wearing dark black clothes with a hoodie obscuring his/her face, silent and scared) awakens in bed.

It's room is darkly lit but homely. There are many simple luxuries cluttered about. Unpacked boxes can be seen on the floor, as if The Child has only recently moved in.

Across from it's bed is a crudely rendered smile drawn in bulky black crayon lines, plastered on the wall, to the left of the window.

The Child gets up and walks towards window of it's apartment. It looks out at the cluttered city landscape, and down at the people bustling down below.

EXt. Bleaker Street - Day

The Child passes through a crowd of people, heading towards the Metro Station.

Ext. Metro Station #1 Stairway

The Child enters the stairway.

A homeless man sits by the steps, holding a cup out. The Child glances back at him briefly, but continues on it's way.

INT. Metro Station Entryway

A dirty, crowded place. People rushing through the turntable scanners to get to their subway trains. People lined up to buy Metro Cards from a nearby vending machine.

The Child leaves the stairway and approaches the Metro Card scanner. He digs around in it's pocket, and pulls out a yellow Metro card.

As he swipes his card, he notices a stressed man repeatedly scanning his card next to him.

Swish. Swish.

His balance is too low to check in. Yet he keeps scanning his card anyway.

Swish. Swish.

The Child watches this scene for a brief moment, his eyes fixated on the card.

Swish.

INT. Metro Station Platform

Doors open.

A crowd of people, including The Child, push and shove their way through.

Int. Metro Bus

The Child stands holding a pole, staring out a window of the train, watching the outside zip by.

The train comes to a stop at another station. The Child turns it's head to the door, watching another mass of people bustle their way in.

The last to enter catches it's eye.

A HOMELESS MAN (43, dressed in a dirty brown cat and ripped leather hat, with an ill-shaven beard and world-weary eyes) boards the train holding a Dixie cup of spare change.

He enters to the center of the train and breathes in. Exhaling, he recites a monotone yet deeply emotional plea, one he's had to repeat several times.

HOMEless Man #1

Good morning, ladies and gentleman. If you could just spare a few minutes of your time. I'm sorry to trouble you.

The Child looks around. No one else meets the Homeless Man's gaze. They wear either frozen frowns, or talk to each other as if the man wasn't speaking. In either case, they behave like the homeless man doesn't even exist.

But the homeless man continues.

HOMELESS MAN #1

I don't want to beg. But I have a family to feed. Two children who haven't eaten a good meal in two days' time. If you could give anything, spare change or food, please, help me.

The homeless man looks around. No one pays him any mind.

He starts walking forward from the back of the car. Holding and shaking his little Dixie cup with the few coins it held in it shaking and ringing.

The ringing grows louder and louder as the homeless man approaches The Child.

The Child looks left and right. It looks away, trying not to meet the homeless man's gaze. Instinctively, it grabs it's pocket with it's wallet in it and clutches it tight.

But then it loosens it's grip, and slides it's hand in, fiddling around as if searching for something. It finds and fiddles with a loose quarter, and grips it.

The homeless man has arrived to the front of the car, where the kid is. In his vicinity, he outstretches his hand, and gives it a shake.

The Child slowly takes it's hand out of it's pocket, but suddenly stops short. Standing still, as if frozen in time.

The Homeless Man looks at the child for a moment. The Child doesn't see him. At least, it pretends not to.

The train stops at another station. The homeless man sighs, and turns back to address the passengers.

Homeless Man #1

Thank you for your time. God bless you.

No one addresses him. With another sigh and a dejected look, the homeless man exists the car.

The doors shut, and the train moves on. Time that seemed like had been stopped suddenly moves forward again.

The Child regains his sentience, takes out the quarter and looks at it. Clenching it in his fist, he then clutches his heart, and squeezes.

Ext. Times Square - Night

The Child looks up. Before him lies Times Square.

A vibrant, colorful cityscape surrounds him on all sides. Signs flashing neon colors with big bright ads. Swarms of people populating the sidewalks, and a bulk of cars slowly honking their way through.

It's overwhelmingly big.

The Child walks through this spectacle, bumping into passers-by who either ignore their exchange with a shrug or who hiss profanities at him.

As it walks through this City of riches, The Child notices people who aren't so happy in this sleepless city.

-People without beds to sleep in. -Children without parents to comfort them. -Old men cast away, drowning in piss and booze.

These sights clog up the child's mind, and soon the sights and sounds of the city soon become a cacophony of nightmarish noise and frightening imagery.

The Child runs away, back to the subway station.

Int. Metro Bus

He makes it to the next Metro train just as the doors close shut.

But something's off. The car is almost empty. Those who are in the car are to the right of The Child, their faces stuffed in the collars of their shirts, mumbling under their breaths.

The Child suddenly clasps his hands over his face. There's a foul stench in the air.

He turns his gaze left. There, lying on a bench far on the other side of the car, passed out in filthy clothes, adorned with bags of garbage, is another homeless man. The stench is emanating from him.

It's suffocating. The Child begins to wheeze, and he begins to stumble about dizzily. Yet his attention remains on the passed out passenger.

As the train makes it's next stop, all the straggling passengers hurry out of the car in a panic. They take deep breaths and heave sighs of relief of having escaped. Some, amused, start mocking and jeering the homeless man.

The Child does not leave. Despite the sickening air, it stays. It looks. Right at the homeless man. Unable to look away. Unable to make a move.

It just stands still and looks straight at him, until it's vision blurs and turns black to the sound of the moving train.

INT. THE CHILD'S ROOM - Day

Eyes open.

The Child lunges out of bed, heaving deep breaths. As they slow and he calms himself, he lifts his head up. The smile on his wall has inexplicably creeped up into a grin.

INt. Counseling Room - Day

A conversation. Between The Child and what appears to be a teacher. We can't hear what it's about, but the teacher appears to be asking The Child something.

The Child's gaze averts contact with his teacher.

When it appears their talk is over, The Child gets up, eyes still squarely on the floor, and walks out...

EXT. CITY STREETS - DAY

Everything is a blur. Sights. Voices. The only thing that is clear is the sidewalk the child travels on, and it's own shadow staring accusingly.

The incidents start.

A COUPLE, in their mid-thirties, approach The Child. They guesture for it to go into a nearby Duane Reade to buy something for them.

The Child shakes his head and runs away.

A MAN SELLING AIRHEADS bumps into him next. He aggressively attempts to sell his expired airheads to The Child.

Shakes his head and runs away.

A WHEELCHAIR-BOUND WAR VETERAN loudly yells out dirges of spite and regret, ignored by passers-by.

Run away.

A RUNAWAY with her head on her knees, an empty suitcase, and a sign that reads "HELP."

Run.

Run.

Run.

Ext. AlleyWay - Evening

The Child pants in a narrow alleyway. Trash cans and loose litter line the walls.

Man of Tomorrow

We don't care about no president! We don't care about no holy war! We don't care about no pop star! We don't care about no television...

Music. Accordian music.

Man of Tomorrow

We don't care about no marriage! We don't care about no wall! We don't care about no gorilla!...

The Child turns it's head left. It's not alone.

The Man of Tomorrow (50, vagabond, a man who burned out his life and smoldered the ashes) gives a voice to those who've been unheard.

The Child listens, mesmerized by the music.

MAN OF TOMORROW

We don't care about no past. We don't care about no future. We don't care about no tomorrow.

The Child perks up, anticipating the following verse.

The Man of Tomorrow's song becomes more passionate.

MAN OF TOMORROW

We don't care! We don't care! We want money! We want booze! We want homes and shelter! We want food! We want respect! We want dignity! We want to be heard! We want to be seen!

The Man of Tomorrow stops playing, and turns his head towards the Child.

MAN OF TOMORROW

Do you see, child? We want our humanity.

EXT. CITY STREETS - DAY

The Child walks the streets with it's head held high.

When it sees a homeless man ask for change on the subway, it gives some change.

When it sees the couple outside Duane Reade, it buys them some diapers.

When it sees the man selling airheads, it buys some airheads.

Everywhere The Child goes, every person in need it sees, it helps with charity.

Ext. Airport - Day

The Child greets it's DAD (50, a busy business man, world-wise yet world-weary) outside an airport. They hail a cab.

INT. METRO STATION LOADING DECK

The Child and DAD are waiting for a Metro train.

An elderly woman comes by, holding a cup out for change.

Dad ignores her, pretending she isn't there.

She turns to The Child.

The Child obliges, to Dad's disdain.

After the woman leaves, Dad reprimands him:

DAD

Don't do that.

The Child freezes, bewildered.

DAD

Give once, and they won't stop. Don't bother.

The train arrives.

Int. Family House - Day

Cousin

You know, statistics show that most of those so-called "homeless people" begging in the subways are actually posing.

The Child sits at a dining table with his dad and COUSIN (27, smart well-educated aspiring entrepreneur). The cousin stirs her tea while lecturing The Child.

COUSIN

I know you think what you're doing is for a good cause, but I encourage you to think of the other side of the story. It isn't wise to be indiscriminately charitable.

Cousin sips her tea, and coyly leaves the table.

After she's out of earshot, Dad puts down his paper, clears his throat, and begins addressing the Child.

DAD

I received an e-mail from you teacher. You're very lucky to do what you're passionate about. To know what you're passionate about. I certainly didn't at such a young age. But you should start thinking about your future and...

Dad's voice fades into white noise as The Child's vision and hearing starts to blur and crack, as if interrupted by static.

Ext. City Streets - night

The Child walks the streets at night, it's vision and hearing marred by static.

-Scenes of it's past encounters with people and their words rings in it's ears -Interspersed with moments of the future, images of the smile twisting -The shadow staring accusingly -Showing The Child suffering in other abstract ways and imagery.

Int. Metro Bus

The Child stands in the Metro Bus. Another homeless man walks through a crowd of unseeing people towards it.

But it doesn't move. It doesn't look at him. Even after he leaves, it doesn't move. It just stands still. Unable.

INT. THE CHILD'S ROOM - night

The Child lies in it's bed, staring at the ceiling.

It looks down to the wall in front of it. The Smile has grown more twisted.

It gets down and looks down at the floor in front of it. The white pupil-less eyes of his shadow stares at it, prodding.

The Child looks out the window. Sees a Pizza Place across the street.

Ext. Pizza Parlor - Night

The Child walks into the Pizza Parlor.

Int. Pizza Parlor - Day

The Child goes up to the counter. It gestures to order a large 8-slice pizza. The man behind the counter complies and starts preparing it's order.

The Child waits by the counter. THREE ORPHAN GIRLS (around 12 or so years old, dressed in dirty and tattered clothes, with worn out shoes and messy hair) walk into the parlor.

The Child watches

They take a nearby table and start digging out their pockets for change. They gather up two dollars between them. Not enough for three slices.

The Child watches.

They're dejected for a moment. But they motion to a plastic knife, planning to share between them.

The Child watches.

They go up to the counter and place their order. At the same time, the man behind the counter presents the Child his order.

The Child opens it's wallet. It's full with many bills, more than it needs to pay off it's pizza.

The Child looks at the box. It's a lot of pizza. More than he needs to eat.

The Child looks at the orphans, about to make their order.

The Child looks at the floor, to it's Shadow staring back.

The Shadow

Give them the money.

The Child opens it's wallet. It gives the man behind the counter it's money.

The Shadow

Give them the pizza.

The Child looks back at the orphans. Now sitting around the table, cutting up their two slices of pizza to share amongst them.

The Child turns, and leaves the pizza shop, as if spellbound.

The Shadow

It's not too late. Turn back.

The Child keeps walking. The pizza shop drifts further and further away.

THE SHADOW

Turn back.

Walking. The pizza shop's but a light flickering behind it.

The Shadow

Turn-

Walking. It's out of sight.

THE SHADOW

-back.

Walking. It's gone. The moment is gone.

INT. THE CHILD'S ROOM - NIGHT

The Child enters it's dark, unlit room.

The only light comes from the window. From the pizza parlor across the street.

The Child moves towards the light. It looks out and stares below it.

At the Pizza Parlor, where those girls are. Wondering.  Waiting.

It stands there, watching the Pizza Parlor. Eventually, the girls do leave. But the Child continues to stand. Haunted.

To it's right, the pizza sits uneaten. Slowly growing cold and stale. Looking sick and inedible.

To it's left, the smile on the wall has corrupted. The tips of it's mouth have twisted in on it's eyes, the gaps in it's teeth now resembling something akin to pupils.

Behind him, his shadow encroaches him. Appearing to pop from the ground, standing upright in a luminescent, ethereal form. Posing as if it was a dark doppelganger of The Child itself.

Madness. A back and forth of two extremes. A war of darkness rages in the Child's mind as these two entities whisper loudly in it's ear.

THE SHADOW

Why didn't you give?

THE SMILE

Why do you care?

THE SHADOW

You should've gived.

THE SMILE

You shouldn't care.

THE SHADOW

It would have been so easy.

THE SMILE

It wouldn't have mattered.

THE SHADOW

You wouldn't be feeling so guilty.

THe Smile

You shouldn't be feeling so guilty.

THE SHADOW

You can't keep doing this.

THE SMILE

You don't need to worry.

THE SHADOW

You have to do this.

THE SMILE

Everything works out in the end.

THE SHADOW

Are you living?

The Smile

Might as well keep living.

THE SHADOW

Can you be happy at the expense of others?

The Smile

Enjoy life. Don't worry about anyone else.

THE SHADOW

You're worth more.

The Smile

You're worthless.

THE SHADOW

Make up your mind.

The Smile

It doesn't matter. They don't matter. You don't matter. Just exist.

The Child punches the Smile in the wall. It keeps punching and pounding, agonizing. As it does, it loses color, becoming hued in increasingly darker shades of grey.

Even as it's being contorted and misshapen, the Smile keeps smiling, becoming even more twisted. The Shadow watches on.

When the Child finally stops, the Smile's visage is no longer recognizable. The Shadow is nowhere to be seen.The room is pitch black.

The Void of Nothingness: Darkness X Darkness X Darkness

The Child is alone in the darkness.

It spots the cold, stale pizza on the table behind it. It violently attempts to throw it onto the floor in disgust.

But it stops short.

It slowly and gently puts the pizza back on the table, and stands over it.

Then it eats. It eats and eats and eats. Until there is no pizza left. But there's still a hunger.

Dazed as if drunk or on drugs, The Child stumbles through the dark void.

As it traverses through the pathless darkness, more and more people in need litter it's path. Watching it.

The Child walks deeper into the darkness. Deeper, until he stumbles upon a Metro station.

INT. METRO STATION PLATFORM

A train approaches. It's light illuminates the darkness.

The Child steps forward.

The train picks up speed. The Child closes it eyes.

SCREEEECCHHHH.

But amidst the sounds of the train, something else is heard.

Music. Accordion music.

EXT. ALLEYWAY - EVENING

The Child opens it's eyes. It's in the alleyway.

The requiem plays softly.

MAN OF TOMORROW

A life is not spent in the dirt. A life is not spent to become clean. A life is meant for more. A life is meant for a dream.

Color begins to return to the Child's face. Life begins to return to it's eyes.

MAN OF TOMORROW

A life can't stand still. A life can't be left unheard or unseen. A life burns with passion. A life burns with purpose. Only then, only then, does it flicker out. And all that'll be left is pure white ash...

The Child turns to look at the Man of Tomorrow.

There no one there.

Where he was, a pile of white ashes lie in his place.

The Child understands. Light enters from behind him in the alleyway. The Child turns and heads towards it.

Int. The Child's Room - day

The Child returns to it's room. It empties out all the shelves. It pulls out everything from it's closets. It gathers everything it has all together, and stares at the pile.

And then it gets to work.

Ext. Alleyway - day

The woman outside the McDonalds gets it's sweater.

The man lying comatose in the metro car gets it's blanket.

The children outside the video game store gets it's 3DS.

Food. Clothing. Books. Medicines. Computer. Cellphone.

Everything the Child owns, it gives away to people who need them.

It gives and gives, until it has nothing left.

INT. THE CHILD'S ROOM - DAY

An empty room. Stripped bare. The door closes.

EXT. BLEAKER STREET - DAY

A homeless man outside holds a cap out for change. Something drops into it. To his astonishment, it's an entire wallet.

The Man walks down the street, merging and becoming a part of the crowds of people populating the city.

Finally, it is free.

Finally, it is an adult.

Finally, it is human.

Int. Metro Bus

Post-credits scene.

The Man sits, hunched alone on a seat on the Metro Bus, showered in a spray of white light.

It's life burnt out, returned to ash.