Carve freedom from oppression
EXT. NEWYORK CITY -- SKYLINE -- DAY

SUPERIMPOSE: NEWYORK CITY 2037

On an EXTREME LONG LENS the battle cruiser EXCURSION hovers above steel fingers steeped in liquid metal sky.

JUMP CUT: A small battalion of TELEKINETIC COMBAT UNITS is clamped alongside the iron-plated hull. TCUs are thirty feet in length, fourteen tons of impenetrable steel chassis, each distinguished by a different coat of paint and unique insignias, and are manipulated by HUMAN OPERATORS enclosed within slender domes.

JUMP CUT: A TCU OPERATOR. Deadpan. Eyes close.

CUT TO:

SEEN THROUGH TAC-VISION: A three-dimensional schematic on the MANHATTAN section of NEW YORK CITY superimposes on blackness. We PAN ACROSS the network of horizontal and perpendicular wire frames that constitutes skyscrapers, office buildings, and roadways. We ZOOM IN on the SKELETON of BROOKLYN BRIDGE. The schematic FADES as--

The PHYSICAL FORM of the bridge, encased within a crystalline-glass shell, supersedes the skeleton.

CUT TO:

INT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE -- DAY

ANGLE FROM WITHIN THE TUNNEL, as shuttles, sport-utility vehicles, and sleek motorbikes zip by. Traffic sounds are minimal until-- the barbarous ROAR from an eight cylinder ENGINE beckons our attention. A blood-red SS CAMARO ENTERS FRAME and-- Whooom! Tears past our view. We PAN WITH the primordial muscle car through a wake of exhaust as it pounds forward into the bleak unknown.

CUT TO:

INT. CAMARO -- CONTINUOUS

CLOSE UP on MEMORY-- 19, bashful, the flower stamped by the boot of warfare. Eyes are closed, long lashes twitter, mouth agape. Cloud surfer in la-la land. We PUSH OUT slowly, the BACK SEAT gradually FILLS FRAME. She shares the cramped space with CARVE-- 27, lionhearted, and cordial. A small device clipped to his ear has his immediate attention. He leans forward with a hand on the DRIVER SEAT HEADREST.

CARVE
(softly, so not to disturb Memory)
Wave-com confirms TAC-vision at thirty-eight percent. Cerebral voltage frequency...
(beat, listening intently)
Sixteen hertz.

ANGLE FROM THE BACK SEAT as NOXIN --36, black, and branded with a battle-scar across his left cheek -- appears from around the PASSENGER SEAT.

NOXIN
(Irish accent)
A bit flaky along the edges, is it not?

Carve settles back into the backseat.

CARVE
Seems abnormal, yea... but Wall Street reported a deficit in contingent regiments.
(beat, shrugs)
Maybe they’ve disregarded tactical upheaval... in favor of democracy.

CUT TO:

INT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE -- CONTINUOUS

LOW ANGLE ON the steady hum of regulated traffic and the GLASSED CEILING ABOVE. BLACKNESS sweeps across the glass. Then... a TELEKINETIC COMBAT UNIT burst through the ceiling, plummets fifty feet, and lands with one massive foot atop a sports car, emanating a teeth-rattling jar. CRUNCH! We HEAR the scream of seared rubber on concrete, vehicles breaking.

CUT TO:

EXT. CAMARO -- CONTINUOUS

The camaro looms with feral momentum toward the CAMERA.  Then... buckles with deceleration, screeches, slides to a halt. Smoke billows from the back tires. We PULL BACK TO REVEAL a swelling of halted automobiles. The occupants are dumbstruck, faced forward, unaware that the tunnel will soon become their catacomb. 

CUT TO:

INT. CAMARO -- CONTINUOUS

IN THE BACKSEAT, Memory stirs from broken sleep. Carve stares incredulously.

NOXIN (O.S.)
My guess would be... that big robot didn’t drop on our heads to sign amnesty... am I right?

TIGHT ON JUDEA-- 25, pale, and petite --behind the wheel. Eyebrows entwined. Mouth hangs open.

CUT TO:

INT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE -- CONTINUOUS

The TCU grips a battle rifle in both hands. A BUSHEL BASKET bloated with CHERRIES, and the words DODGERS and I HEART NY are stenciled on the sky-blue chassis. We PUSH IN TOWARDS the dome, and the inert HUMAN OPERATOR within.

SEEN THROUGH TAC-VISION: a schematic of the tunnel. Wire frame traffic. Yellow breath vapor from unseen occupants. We ZOOM THROUGH the tunnel and HOLD ON the camaro SKELETON. Four breath vapors. BEHIND THEM, a waft of purple exhaust. The schematic FADES as--

The PHYSICAL FORM of the camaro supersedes the skeleton.

CUT TO:

INT. CAMARO -- CONTINUOUS

IN THE BACKSEAT, Memory holds a 9mm Heckler and Koch, checks the magazine, loads. Carve balances SMOKE on his lap, while shoving a square cartridge into the bore of WHISTLE. Smoke & Whistle are machine pistols of the future. Barrels are chrome and rectangle, the weapons themselves are shaped like M-79 grenade launchers.

Noxin reaches into the floor board, hoists an Ingram submachine gun into his lap, and in one quick motion, slams a magazine into the chamber and racks the bolt. Obviously, he’s done this before.

CUT TO:

Ext. CAMARO -- CONTINUOUS

Doors are flung open. Noxin, Judea, Memory, and Carve pile out. We DOLLY WITH them running headlong.

CUT TO:

INT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE -- CONTINUOUS

The TCU whirls to life: loose cables become taut, hydraulics whine. It steps from the car-patty.

We TRACK WITH the MECHANICAL EXTERMINATOR romping full tilt through traffic, SQUASHING automobiles, raising the battle rifle in succession with each footstep.

Vehicles are abandoned, doors ajar, people scurry. We RACK FOCUS, thirty feet behind them, a JUGGERNAUT runs rampant, gaining. 

We TRACK WITH Noxin, Judea, Memory, and Carve sprinting through cracks in the congestion.

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