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EXT. SEWER TUNNEL -- NIGHT An archway at the end of an alley.

Broken and bent long ago, crusted with moss. A trickle of water cuts through. A SCREAM from within. SPLASH of footfalls. Laboured BREATHING, the rapid SPLISH

AISLING COBWEB, beautiful and intense, bursts from the tunnel into the narrow alley. Her body, petite, young, and frail, tense with fear. From her back sprout a pair of large moth-like wings, fragile, intricate, frayed at the edges. Aisling Cobweb is a faerie. And she's running for her life.

She catches her tattered skirt on metal grating and stumbles face first. She turns, panicked. In the darkness, distant at first, an eerie WAIL. widen. Aisling, flexes her wings, and takes to THE AIR with frantic agility. She flies, weaving between narrow alleys, dodging gas lanterns and sagging clothes-lines. Her papery wings carry her swerving around tight corners. She slams into the side of a steep inclined ROOF where she scrambles for a foothold on the slate shingles. A black clawed hand grabs her ankle. She kicks free and makes it to the pinnacle of the roof. She leaps, flaps her wings, and climbs again into THE NIGHT SKY Above the rooftops. Ahead of her, through the thick billowing fog, she sees the obscure shape of a tower bridge. She heads for the nearest TOWER and alights at the top between two gargoyles. Wincing, she stretches her wings. She hugs her knees and shivers. Her eyes