A WAREHOUSE SOMEWHERE IN THE CYBERPUNK-LIKE PORT CITY OF ADIA. NEON-LIGHTS. CHEAPLY MADE SCI-FI WONDER MACHINES, VEHICLES, AND OTHER NEEDLESS EVERYDAY THINGS. ALSO, IT STILL LOOKS OLD AND ABANDONED FOR SOME INEXPLICABLE REASON.
SIBIL: (COMMS) Night. A cluttered warehouse along Toader Cola & Weapons of Minimal Destruction Incorporated Harbor.
THE CRAZED, CLUTTERED INTERIOR OF A WAREHOUSE SOMEWHERE IN THE CYBERPUNK-LIKE PORT CITY OF ADIA. GUN FIRE, LASER FIRE, FIRE FIRE, AND THE PAINED, FRIGHTENED SCREAMS OF HIRED GOONS.
GOON #1: This way! She’ll never find us–
PEW-PEW! GOON #1 DROPS DEAD FROM SOME SCI-FI PEW-PEW WEAPON.
SIBIL: (COMMS) January Embers, cloaked in a cloaking device, violently plays with her prey, completely unseen…
GOON #2: (POINTS) There she is!
ENTER JANUARY, CLOAKED, YET COMPLETELY VISIBLE FROM ALL THE ICKY STUFF COVERING HER FROM HEAD TO TOE.
SIBIL: (COMMS) …yet totally visible ‘cus of all the blood and such.
GOON #3: How many of us has she killed?!
PEW-PEW! PEW-PEW! JANUARY SHOOTS THE OTHER GOONS DEAD WITH THE SCI-FI PEW-PEW WEAPON.
JANUARY: Sibil, if you’re going to narrate everything, you can at least do it from the beginning.
SIBIL: (COMMS) I forgot.
JANUARY: You forgot?
SIBIL: (COMMS) Look. It’s not every day I get out to the harbor. I was absorbed by all the lights and trash reefs.
JANUARY: Why didn’t you bother narrating our drive out here? Or, oh, I don’t know, the last two hours we’ve been here?
SIBIL: (COMMS) I thought it was unnecessary exposition.
JANUARY: Whatever. Is that all the hired goons?
SIBIL: (COMMS) Not yet. The last one is currently attempting to…
AN ALARM ALARMS, AS IT DOES.
SIBIL: (COMMS) …activate the security alarm.
JANUARY TURNS TO…
GOON #4 STANDS AT A SECURITY PANEL, FINGERS ON THE SCREEN.
JANUARY: Hey! I see you!
GOON #4: Uh…
JANUARY: I was going to let you live, dude.
GOON #4: Really?
JANUARY: Guess you’ll never know now, huh?
GOON #4: (SHRUGS) Yeah, I guess so… (SIGHS) Go on, then.
JANUARY: Not gonna run or fight?
GOON #4: What for? I’m not getting paid enough for this.
JANUARY: (SHRUGS) Suit yourself.
JANUARY AIMS, READIES THE SCI-FI PEW-PEW WEAPON.
JANUARY: Ugh… You’re really taking the fun out of this.
GOON #4: Oh, I’m sorry. Is murdering me and my coworkers with some sci-fi weapon of minimal destruction not fun anymore?
JANUARY: Hey, you’re the ones working for a weapons manufacturer making a fortune from these things.
GOON #4: Whoa, whoa. A job is a job. Not like I have much choice of employment around here. It was this, or repossessing organs for some home electronics store.
JANUARY: That’s awful.
GOON #4: Tell me about it. Louie over there only took this job for the insurance. Poor guy is diabetic.
JANUARY: I mean, not anymore…
GOON #4: Sure, make jokes.
JANUARY: You’re not going to let this go, are you?
GOON #4: Nope.
JANUARY SHOOTS GOON #4 WITH THE SCI-FI PEW-PEW WEAPON.
SIBIL: (COMMS) Wow.
JANUARY: This place looks and smells like the underside of an unwashed grill, and this is what got to you?
SIBIL: (COMMS) No.
JANUARY: What is it then?
SIBIL: (COMMS) I just went over the job order again, and this idiot put the wrong address.
SOMETHING EXPLODES NEARBY.
JANUARY: (SIGHS) (SHAKES HEAD)