"Disturbed"

'Pilot'
an original teleplay by
Sam Henry Miller

Sam Henry Miller

Sam@Scenome.com

FADE IN:
INT. PSYCHIATRIST'S OFFICE, BOSTON DAY
TOM RAPPAPORT (male, mid-30's, kempt) sits mildly blunted,
focused on a generic, inspirational IKEA POSTER hanging above
his psychiatrist, Dr. LIU (male, late-20's, sincere).
The IKEA POSTER depicts a photographic still of a tremendous
iceberg, 90% submerged-10% breached, subtitled by the text
"Potential" too platitudinous for Tom, his piqued expression
suggests he perceives something more.
Liu reels Tom back to reality with brow-bent inquiry.
LIU
Fractured?
TOM
(coming to)
Oh, yeah, just- I mean: "less whole".
LIU
Who's whole?
(beat)
Identity's an operative delusion
you know that.
TOM
Better than most.
Tom releases a swift, almost wistful, smile. Liu requites
it; there's an established rapport here, some measure of
mutual respect beyond 'doctor-patient'.
TOM (CONT'D)
No, it's just that it's been more
intense lately.
LIU
Any new stressors?
Tom mulls on it.
TOM
More like a lack thereof.
(beat)
I'm feel like I'm oxidizing: rusting
in one space.
LIU
So move.
TOM
It's not that kind of space, doc.

2.
LIU
You need something to chase.
Tom, stoic but agitated, mulls on it. Articulation, for him,
seems tantamount to expression.
TOM
I need something that can get away.
Tom's CELL "BUZZES" (OFF).
inhales.

He takes a swift glance and

TOM (CONT'D)
Work.
Liu springs to his PEN and PRESCRIPTION PAD and begins to
fervently scrawl.
LIU
There's this new medication. I think
you should at least consider it. It
has all theTom interrupts Liu by placing a palm neatly around the PEN
on the PAD.
TOM
Work.
Liu, sighs, relenting, understanding the implication we
clearly yet cannot.
CUT TO:
EXT. FBI HQ, BOSTON - DAY
Tom steps out of a BLACK SUV, clad in an FBI LIGHT JACKET.
An unassuming OFFICE BUILDING looms over, its facade bearing
a discrete, circular BOSTON FBI LOGO.
As he makes his way to the entrance, JACK (late 20s, surly,
burly, cockney) exhales CIGARETTE smoke.
JACK
Another Miss Marple-bloody muck-about.
Tom keeps his pace.
TOM
Morning, Jack.

3.
Jack, defiant, ashes his CIGARETTE on the building and follows
Tom inside.
CUT TO:
INT. FBI HQ - DAY
Tom, briskly beelining to the CHIEF'S OFFICE, is regarded
disdainfully by his co-workers.
LEV (40s, dwarfism, pensive), fondling a STENO-POOl CUP,
analyzes the bustle beyond the WINDOW. He spots Tom
peripherally but keeps his attention on the urban jungle.
LEV
Entropy.
TOM
(tapping his chest)
Law and order, Lev.
Lev's lifted expression implies his complicity in the irony.
He crushes the CUP, disposes it, and moves to accompany Tom's
procession.
Anne (late 20's, prim, attentive), twiddles a PEN through
her digits and, wide-eyed, saccadic--almost robotic--studies
Tom's approach.
ANNE
69.8 degrees Fahrenheit.
TOM
What?
The weather.

ANNE
Today.

TOM
Anne, your anti-small talk never
ceases to amaze.
Anne gingerly steps forward to complete the trinity that
compose TOM'S TEAM.
They reach their destination: an OFFICE DOOR, denoted by the
PLAQUE: "LT. EMORY WAKE".
CUT TO:
INT.

EMORY'S OFFICE - DAY

LT. EMORY WAKE (50's, weary, jaded) grimaces at the 'sideshow

spectacle' of Tom.

4.
TOM
Lieutenant Wake.
Coldly unrequiting Tom's deference, Emory slides a folder
across his DESK. Tom browses it, fervent in hand but not
expression.
We catch a PHOTO of an albino, adolescent female, underscored
by: "ABIGAIL WILLIAMS, Female, 10". On the flip side: a
series of POLICE SKETCHES depicting a caucasian, comely,
prim male- not unlike Tom himself.
TOM (CONT'D)
This isEMORY
Right up your alley, Rappaport.
TOM
A kidnapping, sir?
EMORY
A kidnapping in Salem: our state's
little vestige of oddity and
ignorance.
Tom finishes scouring the FOLDER and shuts it, oddly
neglecting to share with his team.
TOM
I assure you, sir, there's still
plenty of ignorance to go around.
Tom lifts his gaze to meet Emory's, exacerbating the already
palpable passive-aggressivity.
Emory scowls, typically disgusted.
EMORY
Take what you need.
thing tomorrow.
(beat)
Go.

Leave first

Brisk, Tom and Team swing to exit, suggesting nothing of

further value--or any value--can be garnered from Lieutenant
Emory Wake.
CUT TO:
INT. TOM'S HOUSE - NIGHT
An upper-middle, suburban decor ensconces Tom and his two
children, NASH (fale, 10) and JOANNIE (female, blonde 8),
sit SOFA-bound together, gaze-glued to a VIDEO GAME on-SCREEN

5.
ahead.
Tom, plopped between the two, whimsically surveys his kids'
dynamic: Nash plays and Joannie directs.
TOM
Nash, why don't you give your sister
a turn?
JOANNIE
No, dad, it doesn't work like that.
TOM
What doesn't?
NASH
Games, dad. I play better when
Joannie's watching.
TOM
Joannie, you want to watch?
JOANNIE
I need to or else he starts to suck
ass.
TOM
(reproachful)
Joannie.
NASH
No, Dad, she's right: I start to
suck major ass.
Tom smiles, impressed by the concerted arrangement his
children seem to have perfected.
JOANNIE
We have to play together.
can't play at all.

Or we

Tom, relents, reclining.

A gentle FEMALE VOICE beckons him to attention.
FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
Tom.
Tom's wife, JILL (early 30s, blonde, lithe), appears
concerned, by the DOORWAY.
He moves to her aid.

6.
TOM
Jill.
JILL
I was thinking- you said your suspect
took a 10 year old...
TOM
No, it's not like that.
there's more to it.

I think

Jill glances to their children and back.

JILL
You implicate yourself in every
case... every chase.
(beat)
How many more times before one decides
to chase back?
She has a point, and he knows it.
anxiety with an embrace.

He can only allay her

In the background, Joannie gesticulates emphatic instructions

to Nash to the benefit of their mutual on-SCREEN avatar.
CUT TO:
INT. TOM'S SUV - DAY
Tom and team are on-route to Salem, Anne riding shotgun and
Lev and Jack (David and Goliath, by contrast) in the back.
LEV
You're speeding.
Tom glances at the dash.
TOM
I'm only going five over.
ANNE
Eight over.
JACK
"Bluebirds Over The White Cliffs of
Dover."- little girl's life's in our
hands right now.
LEV
Not without ours first.
ANNE
(to the side-view)
Tom.

7.
TOM
Shit.
In the REAR-VIEW, a STATE TROOPER VEHICLE, silently admonishes
with ROOF LIGHTS.
Tom pulls over, and THE TROOPER approaches.
ANGLE ONLY ON:
Tom and The Trooper, port-side.
THE TROOPER
I need your license and registration,
please.
Tom complies, evincing both from his WALLET, unwittingly
flashing his BADGE in the process.
THE TROOPER (CONT'D)
FBI, huh?
TOM
Yes.
The Trooper slaps open a PAD and begins scrawling a ticket.
THE TROOPER
Well, that's embarrassing.
Tom clenches his jaw and stares grimly ahead--he knows
when/where to pick his fights.
THE TROOPER (CONT'D)
You know why I flagged you down,
agent?
TOM
I was going 8 over.
THE TROOPER
(scoffs)
Shit, probably.
(beat)
No, you're driving in a carpool lane:
"Minimum occupancy two or more."
ANGLE ON:
Tom is alone in the vehicle.
Tom's Team are and always were a hallucination.
Tom sighs, now embarrassed, pressing palms to forehead.

8.
TOM
Right.
The Trooper tears the STUB free.
THE TROOPER
Stay vigilant, agent.
He hands the STUB to Tom but rebuffs Tom's tug for a second.
THE TROOPER (CONT'D)
There's a lot of crazies out here.
The Trooper relinquishes the STUB.
TOM
Noted.
The Trooper retreats, and Tom pulls away.
ANGLE ON:
Anne, Lev, and Jack are back, in the same positions: Lev's
brow heavily furrowed, Jack restraining a smirk, and Anne's
mouth, agape, searching for words.
Don't.

TOM (CONT'D)
Just don't.

BIRDS-EYE SHOT:
Tom's hellbound SUV suffocates in a mire of METALLIC
AUDIOVISUAL BUSTLE and CONCRETE STRIATIONS.
INTERTITLE: "DISTURBED".
END OF TEASER
FADE OUT.

9.
ACT ONE
FADE IN:
INT. SALEM POLICE STATION - MORNING
Hands rifle through a series of POLICE SKETCHES each
portraying a 30-something, male face--each so eerily generic
that, again, hearken Tom's visage.
ANGLE ON: Tom, grimacing, shuffling the SKETCHES, seems to
be searching for an 'outlier'.
His team lurks behind, stealing glimpses.
JACK
(patronizing)
Looks familiar.
Opposite Tom, Salem's POLICE CHIEF, by strained tone and
clenched muscle, tries to repress an innate contempt of
"federal collaboration".
POLICE CHIEF
Look familiar?
TOM
No.
Tom halts on a PARTICULAR SKETCH: On the left side, more-ofthe-same. However, on the right, a GHASTLY INCARNATION: a
heart-shaped head, centered by a razor thin nose, punctuated
by gaunt, wide sockets and pitch-black eyes.
Tom flips the SKETCH to the Police Chief.
TOM (CONT'D)
Who dictated this?
POLICE CHIEF
As you can imagine, being kidnapped
during school recess, many of our
witnesses were children.
(beat)
Some with more 'active' imaginations
than others.
LEV
Reductive.
Tom, deadpan, holds the Police Chiefs's gaze--a brutally
awkward, non-verbal interrogation technique: something
evidently idiosyncratic and practiced.
The Police Chief squirms.

10.
POLICE CHIEF
Um. This particular witness, a boy,
close to the suspect's escape vehicle,
claimed he saw a second passenger.
(beat)
Says he saw a "ghost in the back of
the van."
JACK
How geographically appropriate.
POLICE CHIEF
No other reports corroborate.
TOM
I'd like the to speak with this
witness.
POLICE CHIEF
(scoffs)
Agent, we followed up. Kid's parents
said their son had- uh, shit, what's
it called: Sc- scat- scarTOM
Schizophrenia.
POLICE CHIEF
That's it.
LEV
Small world.
TOM
I'd like to follow up again. If I
could have the witness's informationPOLICE CHIEF
Agent, the witness is clearly
unreliable... delusional, you know,
messed up in theTOM
(abrupt, stern)
Chief. What is it you think we do:
see things as they really are?
The Police Commissioner is taken aback.
TOM (CONT'D)
Nevermind.
(beat)
Now: the information. Please.
CUT TO:

11.
EXT. SCHOOL ENTRANCE - DAY
CIGARETTE SMOKE goads a "NO SMOKING WITHIN 25 FEET" SIGN
affixed to the BUILDING. A pan-out reveals the source is
Jack taking soothing drags off a BUTT. To his side, Anne,
eyes withdrawn, mumbles a mental count. Beside her, Lev
scans the sky.
Tom--the trinity's avatar incarnate--waits.
OLIVER (10, timid) is escorted out the entrance.
Tom offers a handshake greeting, but Oliver, anxiety-fraught,
leaves Tom hanging.
CUT TO:
EXT. SCHOOLYARD - DAY
Tom and Oliver are sat, cross-legged, childish, under the
shade of an OAK--a humorous image; yet, with Tom, rarely (if
ever) without tactic.
His Team hover about.
Tom pulls a WRAPPED SANDWICH out of his FBI JACKET POCKET.
TOM
Do you like tuna?
OLIVER
I'm allergic to fish.
Tom nods, defeated, but proceeds to manifest a SECOND
SANDWICH.
TOM
Good thing then I always keep a plan
PB and J.
Oliver, albeit not regaled, takes the offering.
They proceed to mutually munch.
JACK
You didn't cut the crusts.

Nasty.

TOM
(composing)
I'm sorry you had to see what you
saw.
OLIVER
It's ok. I see a lot of things.

12.
TOM
Things like that?
OLIVER
No.
TOM
What was different about it?
Brusque, Oliver swings his head, chin sunk to chest,
overwhelmed by a spell of timidity.
LEV
Time to switch tactics.
Tom loosens focus for a brief moment, until an idea hits.
TOM
Do you have a favorite super hero,
Oliver?
Oliver's brow furrows, cautious, but Tom doesn't wait for an
answer.
TOM (CONT'D)
Mine's Green Lantern.
OLIVER
Why?
TOM
I guess I always liked the idea of
projecting my thoughts into reality.
Oliver, thrown into rapid-eyed consideration, appears to
internally acquiescence.
OLIVER
The Hulk.
TOM
Hmm?
OLIVER
My favorite superhero's The Hulk
TOM
Oh, yeah?
(considering)
Yeah, that's good pick. They'd make
a good team.
Impossible.

ANNE
Different universes.

13.
Tom's nostrils flare at Anne's pedantry.
OLIVER
He's not always strong: only when he
needs to be. But he can't control
it as good as the others.
TOM
And you can relate.
OLIVER
It's why they all pick on me.
why I like to be alone.

It's

TOM
It's also why you were right here.
And saw what you saw(pointing)
Right there.
The SPOT Tom gestures to seems a trivial, street-side ROW of
PARKED VEHICLES.
Oliver's expression shifts to contemplation.
TOM (CONT'D)
You know(beat)
The Hulk really wouldn't be so strong
if no one were around to pick on
him.
Oliver's exhales a cathartic sigh.
OLIVER
They didn't believe me.
TOM
Who didn't?
OLIVER
The police- you know, about the ghost.
TOM
I'm not the police.
Tom, gazing innocuously outward, takes a self-effacingly
goofy chomp of his sandwich.
Oliver observes.
OLIVER
You're not.
(pause)
So you believe me?
No.

14.
TOM
I believe... because of what you
saw, because of who you are(beat)
That you have the power to save a
little girl's life.
Oliver eyes widen, simultaneously enthrall and terrified.
He gulps down the pressure.
OLIVER
Well, there was one thing that
confused me about that day.
TOM
Yes?
OLIVER
Everyone said they heard Abigail
scream from the car.
TOM
Yes.
OLIVER
Well I heard her scream from the
car, before she was in the car.
JACK
Our ghost.
LEV
Or whatever it is.
TOM
Is that so?
Something warm comes over Tom: the narcotic exaltation of a
lead.
OLIVER
I knew they wouldn't believe me.
I didn't tell them.

So

TOM
Was there anything else you didn't
tell them?
Oliver, inundated by shame, shakes his head.
Abrupt, Tom springs to his feet and offers a hand to Oliver.
This time, Oliver takes it.

15.
TOM (CONT'D)
You did good, Hulk.
Oliver fails to suppress a smirk.
CUT TO:
INT. FBI HQ - NIGHT
Tom and Team make a circus of a CUBICLE.
A frenzy of brainstorming happens (cautiously) here.
The SKETCH takes center stage.
LEV
An emaciated human, distorted by
delusional recall.
(beat)
It would explain the scream.
JACK
(at Lev, goading)
You don't believe it's a genuine
spook? This is Salem, after all.
ANNE
You refer to The Salem Witch Trials?
The late-17th century, mass histrionicspurred murder of over 20 innocent
women.
JACK
I refer to the chill about my spine
whilst I stroll this place after
sundown.
LEV
There is no more futile pursuit than
that of the "supernatural".
JACK
(gesturing at sketch)
Does that thing look natural to you?
TOM
(sotto)
It's starting to.
(beat)
I've seen it somewhere- I've heard
it.
Anne's eyes begin to flitter: the database-scouring,
recollection of a savant.

16.
EMORY (O.S.)
Heard what, Rappaport?
TOM
(startled)
Lieutenant.
(beat)
Just... thinking out loud.
Emory nods derisively, mistrustful, but saunters away.
ANNE
Tom, it's not a human.
TOM
So it didn't scream?
ANNE
(confused)
I never said that.
Tom inhales a sharp revelation and turns quickly to his
COMPUTER.
He pores frenetically through a BROWSER'S INTERFACE, window
after window, link after link, until finally, he evinces a
VIDEO--the video.
On a streaming 'TUBESITE', the video titled, "BARN OWL HATES
DOG" plays: At first an innocuous confrontation between a
tamed BARN OWL and a DOMESTIC DOG. However, as soon as the
canine closes in, the BARN OWL becomes defensive, balloonsup, and SHRIEKS like a DEMON--the species' unmistakable
warning cry, which happens to hearken uncannily the DEATHSCREAM of a young girl (OFF).
FADE OUT.
END OF ACT ONE

17.
ACT TWO
FADE IN:
INT. TOM'S STUDY - NIGHT
A splinter of LIGHT and the WHINE of DOOR HINGES (OFF) pierce
Tom's sensory-deprived respite, waking him.
His LAPTOP, left open, casts a cold saturated light about a
slumped figure, slinging a shapeless SILHOUETTE to the wall.
FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
Tom.
Jill: it's only Jill, tender and concerned--love and not
suspicion.
She slides her palms over Tom's shoulders and chest, startling
him only by the rarity of contact.
JILL
(at the screen)
Owls?
Tom shuts the LAPTOP.
TOM
(facetious)
That's on a "need to know".
She rests her chin on his shoulder.
JILL
I hope this is progress.
TOM
Believe it or not.
JILL
Joannie says the girls at school are
dying their hair dark.
For a moment, Tom seems confused, but then gets it.
TOM
Jill. They're not in danger.
(beat)
She's not in danger.
Jill stares away, shakes her head knowingly.
JILL
Light-haired girls are always in
danger.

18.
Jill moves to the door.
JILL (CONT'D)
(playful)
Or else I'd be married to a different
man.
The room's DOOR gingerly latches shut (OFF).
Back to solitude, Tom takes a deliberate eyes-shut pause, to
shift mental gears: domestic to professional.
ANGLE ON: Tom's Team appear in frame, huddled about,
illuminated by something else.
All eyes turn to the image of the BARN OWL on SCREEN.
TOM
Let's debrief.
ANNE
Barn owls are illegal to own without
a rehabilitation permit. There are
three animal rehabilitation centers
within 50 miles of Salem, and one
houses barn owls.
TOM
Of course, our operative supposition
is that our suspect did not catch
the animal wild.
JACK
He didn't.
TOM
How can you be sure?
JACK
It was home grown.
LEV
By what evidence?
Jack, stoic for an instance, keeps his gaze pinned on his
ZIPPO LIGHTER, CAP-FLIPPING between palm and thumb (OFF).
JACK
Common sense.
LEV
Please, enlighten us dullards.

19.
JACK
When you come down with hiccups, you
call off the heist.
LEV
(incredulous)
What?
JACK
Look, my gist is: crime and
contingency don't mix.
LEV
And yet the bird still screamed during
the kidnapping.
JACK
"Of mice and men", mate.
(beat)
My guess is he's living out of that
sodding van.
TOM
Would explain how he's eluded capture
thus far.
LEV
So he stole the bird?
JACK
(shrugs)
I say: why nick what you can buy?
TOM
I'm pretty sure you say the opposite,
Jack.
Oh.

JACK
Yeah, that's right.

Tom sighs into his hands--he knows it's the only lead they
have.
CUT TO:
INT. WILDLIFE REHABILITATION CENTER - DAY
CHIRPS, SQUEAKS, and BELLOWS RESOUND dully throughout the
miscellanea of WALL, CORRIDOR, and CAGE (CONTINUOUS).
Tom and Team are greeted by a broken-smiled DR. REUBEN
(female, 30s).
DR. REUBEN
Agent Rappaport, I assume?

20.
TOM
Dr. Reuben. I appreciate you taking
the time today.
(beat)
Again, I'd like to apologize for the
intrusion.
The doctor gestures to her scatalogically-soiled apparel.
DR. REUBEN
What's life without a little
intrusion, agent.
Tom avows a brief smirk.
TOM
So, I was wondering if I could take
a look atDR. REUBEN
The birds, right?
(beat)
The aviary's just this way, agent.
(beat)
Please: follow me.
Eager to break eye-contact, Dr. Reuben shifts into a brisk
amble; Tom and Team follow.
INT. THE REHABILITATION HALLS - CONTINUOUS
DR. REUBEN
Now I can't say for certain are owls
will be fully lucid at this hour.
TOM
Owls?
The Doctor, skipping a step, fails to wholly contain a wave
of palid terror.
DR. REUBEN
Oh.
(beat)
I thought you'd mentioned owls over
the phone.
ANNE
You didn't.
TOM
I did: of course I did.
(beat)
My apologies. I suppose "lack of
lucidity" is going around.

21.
The Doctor feigns a laugh; Tom attempts feebly to match it.
Lev, stink-eyed, skeptical, scowls.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE AVIARY - DAY
A 2x6 block of FENCE-LINKED CAGES make no attempt to muffle
the CACOPHONY of ORNITHOLOGICAL EXPRESSION.
Dr. Reuben, stopping at apparently-empty CAGE, gesticulates
for Tom to halt.
DR. REUBEN
Just a moment, agent.
Off the cage-side, she unclasps and begins to equip a LEATHER
TALON GUARD.
DR. REUBEN (CONT'D)
Human veins and raptor claws: they
don't always play nice.
TOM
I can imagine.
Amidst the divide, Tom's Team muse about the surrounding
spectacle.
JACK
(mock-American accent)
"Rahp-tores"
(beat, back to natural)
Couple thousand years due for a name
change, eh?
ANNE
Millions.
LEV
Yet they'd still kick your ass in a
goose chase, Mr. Hyde.
JACK
Probably.
Jack flicks open his ZIPPO, a CIGARETTE already in the other
hand, suavely punctuating the pause with COMBUSTION.
JACK (CONT'D)
That's why I never hunt alone, Short
Round.

22.
Jack lobs the ZIPPO above Lev's head, who snatches it cleanly,
confident.
LEV
So you admit fallibility?
Lev throws it back.
fumbles it.

Too focused on his CIG, Jack almost

JACK
I admit... compatibility.
He winds up to lob the ZIPPO at a further back Anne.
JACK (CONT'D)
Ain't that the case, Miss Wikipedierr.
Her back is turned, but he's already tossed it.
She catches it, behind her back, one-handed, and turns her
head to the men, blunted.
Sorry.

ANNE
I was just thinking.

DR. REUBEN (O.S.)

Oh, lucky you!
ANGLE ON:
Dr. Reuben, in the CAGE, has her TALON GUARDED arm plunged
into a FAUX-ROCKY NOOK.
DR. REUBEN (CONT'D)
Seems our little diva is willing to
do a matinee.
(beat)
For the FBI only.
Grunting on "only", the doctor withdraws her SHEATHED arm,
hauling more than a 'little' anything:
EURYDICE, a FEMALE BARN OWL, flutters a brief tantrum of
LOOSE FEATHERS, boasting a deceptively ROBUST WINGSPAN and
LEAN STOCK.
She commences her species' most uncanny quirk: a series of
lateral head-bobs--denoting an intelligent, ocular predator.
ANNE
Exemplary.
DR. REUBEN
Come on in; she won't bite.

23.
Tom, restraining awe, enters with Team in tow.
By his presence, Eurydice's head-bobs pick up fervor.
TOM
She seems quite... sensitive.
A step closer, transgressing some invisible boundary, Tom
prompts Eurydice to defensively HISS and CLACK (another
species' quirk).
DR. REUBEN
That of a hunter, agent.
(beat)
Here, give her this.
The Doctor, creating a border between Tom and The Owl,
manifests and hands Tom a DEAD MOUSE.
Tom takes it and presents the offering.
Eurydice calms (OFF), wary but hungry, and--by instinct,
eventually, always more the latter--snatches the DEAD MOUSE,
ingesting it in two gulps.
TOM
Regal.
(beat)
What's her name?
DR. REUBEN
(hesitant)
This pretty girl's name is a little
esoteric - it wasn't my idea - she
goes by: "Eurydice".
Eurydice?

JACK
Italian?

ANNE
Greek. Mythology.
LEV
It's half an equation is what it is.
(looking up)
Tom.
Tom hears; Tom heeds, and for a second allows his eyelids to
fall.
TOM
So where's Orpheus?

24.
DR. REUBEN
(taken aback)
Sorry?
TOM
Her better half.

Owls mate for life.

Dr. Reuben squirms.

DR. REUBEN
Right- of cour- Orpheus. It's a
sore subject, agent.
(beat)
I suppose my brain has done something
to block the memory.
TOM
Of what?
DR. REUBEN
He was taken- stolen.
TOM
Recently?
DR. REUBEN
Yes, about two months back.
(beat)
But brave Eurydice hereTOM
Who do you think took him?
DR. REUBEN
(stymied)
Um.
(beat, shaking her
head)
You know, it just seems to happen
this time of year- around Halloween.
Teenagers like to play cultist.
(beat)
Witchcraft, familiars, Satanism,
sacrifices- that kind of stuff.
ANNE
No. That's false. No case of Satanic
nor Wiccan animal or human sacrifice
has ever been documented in the
history of the United States.
TOM
Doctor, if Orpheus were still alive,
could Eurydice find him?

25.
Dr. Reuben appears to contemplate more than just the
plausibility of the notion--until succumbing to a series of
vehement head-shakes.
DR. REUBEN
Not likely. Maybe. It could take
weeks.
(beat)
If he could hear her- if she could
hear him.
Her unguarded hand slides gingerly up to the hind of
Eurydice's neck, starting a series of frantic strokes.
DR. REUBEN (CONT'D)
And, Agent, unfortunately, I doubt
he's even alive, let along well enough
to echolocate.
JACK
Lesser lovers have accomplished
greater.
Tom nods, simultaneously espousing the validity of Jack's
claim whilst, by brow, piercing the speciousness of The
Doctor's.
JACK (CONT'D)
Doctor, if I could divulge classified
information, the stakes would suffice
the risk.
Dr. Reuben releases a brutally nervous scoff, shifting her
massaging-hand's grip now index-and-thumb-clasped about
Eurydice's neck, still stiltedly stroking.
LEV
TomTOM
I see- it may not be instantly
agreeable.
(beat)
"A bird in hand...", right?
Her grip for a moment slackens.
DR. REUBEN
Precisely. Agent, I'm sure you can
understand: I can't lose another
owl.
Tom withdraws and reveals a MICROCHIP from his JACKET pocket-steps forward and brandishes it.

26.
TOM
You won't you have to.
(beat)
Just a game of 'release and catch'.
Dr. Reuben's grip cinches; Eurydice rustles in kind.
DR. REUBEN
That simple?
Tom's slides a cautious HAND down, under the flare of his
JACKET, into 'first position'.
TOM
Common but hardly ever simple.
A palpably tense moment ensues, belayed only by the physicallystoic resolve of both players.
TOM (CONT'D)
Surely a scientist must appreciate
the elegance of that.
DR. REUBEN
(agitated)
Of what?
On the cusp of choking now, Eurydice's rustling shifts to a
panic.
Then, Tom withdraws from concealment his weapon: a WORN
DESIGNER WALLET
TOM
Love.
DR. REUBEN
(stymied)
Sorry?
Tom's team exchange glances, as if to inquire the same.
TOM
Love: The kind that keeps a guy like
me from replacing a thing like this.
Tom rifles through it, whimsically.
TOM (CONT'D)
Not nearly enough folds.
(smiles, wistful,
confident)
But my wife gave it to me. And
there's something greater than utility
in that.

27.
DR. REUBEN
I don'tTOM
That something that makes smart people
do bad things.
(beat)
For pure reasons.
The Doctor appears to slacken her death-grip about Eurydice,
evident also by the bird's pacification.
TOM (CONT'D)
Pure reasons that obstruct pure
reasoning.
As if pulling a trigger, Tom withdraws and displays a
CELLULOID PHOTO: a healthy, happy Abigail.
TOM (CONT'D)
And keep the most precious things...
loveless.
(beat)
The man you sold Orpheus to kidnapped
her.
Dr. Reuben, breaks down, relinquishing Eurydice and a swell
of pent-up guilt.
DR. REUBEN
All the money went to the facility.
TOM
I don't doubt it, Doctor.
DR. REUBEN
We hurt around this time of year.
(beat)
I was confronted with two evils, and
I chose the lesser one.
TOM
Some might call that the greater
good.
Doctor Reuben releases a cathartic sigh at the inference.
TOM (CONT'D)
Doctor, I'm not here to arrest you
for selling a bird.
DR. REUBEN
You're not?

28.
TOM
I'm here to ask for your help--for
the greater good.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE WOODS - NIGHT
TRACKING SOFTWARE on Tom's CELL displays a GPS and RED BLIP.
Eurydice, perched on The Doctor's LEATHER-ARMORED FOREARM
and anchored by her grip, HEAD-BOBs, alert, curious, and no
doubt hungry.
Tom keeps his gaze rigorously fixed to the APPLICATION on
his CELL.
Dr. Reuben lifts a flap of FEATHERS up under Eurydice's neck,
to double-check the GLUE-AFFIXED MICROCHIP's security and
inconspicuousness.
TOM
(up from his cell)
Ok, she's good to go.
Dr. Reuben relishes one last stroke of feathers, expression
shifting from woe to duty-bound, until finally releases her
grip on Eurydice's leg.
Eurydice gives a frenetic series of head-bobs, enthralled,
perhaps for the first time, by the tactical sensation (or
lack thereof) of total freedom.
DR. REUBEN
(sotto)
Fly, girl.
Dr. Reuben tosses her arm into the air and with it, Eurydice,
CGI SHOT: As Eurydice bounds into the TWILIGHT, she traces a
blot across a WANING GIBBOUS.
We TRACK from Tom and Team and Dr. Reuben towards the bird,
and as we garner proximity, so too does our aural POV.
EURYDICE'S AURAL AND VISUAL POV:
TINNY/HIGH-PITCHED FAUNA and INSECTOID SOUNDS flood, echo,
and undulate.
As we push skyward, we unleash a defiant SHRIEK, challenging
the CACOPHONIC, LABYRINTHINE CHAOS of The Woods.
FADE OUT.

29.
END OF ACT TWO

30.
ACT THREE
INT. TOM'S SUV - NIGHT
A CELL "BUZZES" repeatedly.
Tom wakes with a brisk inhale, first soothed by the air of a
logical world, but quickly, by scowl, burdened by the reality
of his progress.
On the dashboard, Tom's LAPTOP depicts a GPS MAP BLOTTED by
a seemingly arbitrary SERIES OF RED DOTS. The most WESTWARD
BlOT BLIPS, painting its location with each STROBE.
Tom peeks at the cell
TOM
Shit.
He answers it (OFF).
TOM (CONT'D)
Lieutenant Wake.
INT. EMORY'S OFFICE - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
EMORY
Rappaport, where the hell are you?
INT. TOM'S SUV - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
TOM
I'm tailing a lead, sir.
EMORY
For four days? Without reporting
back?
TOM
It's a hot lead, sir.
EMORY
Neglecting calls. Skipping staff
meetings. Deferring paperwork.
Tom scrutinizes his METRICS, only allotting Emory half (if
that) of his attention.
TOM
(distracted)
Yes, sir: I'm currently rural, trying
to maintain a low profile.
EMORY
Too low to answer a damn text message?

31.
Tom misses Emory's non-rhetorical intonation.
EMORY (CONT'D)
(irate)
Rappaport?
TOM
Sorry, sir, I'm actually quite engaged
at the moment.
Emory blurts a knee-jerk, prolonged scoff.
EMORY
You know this 'insubordinate savant'
game you like to play: there's a
limit to it.
TOM
Sir?
EMORY
There's a limit to everything- I
want you to understand that,
Rappaport.
(beat)
Do you understand that?
Tom bristles and CRICKS his neck to side--deflecting the
power-play.
TOM
Yes, LieutenBut Emory's already hung up.
As Tom takes a moment to recompose, his Team appear in frame-Lev in the shotgun position this time.
JACK
Arsehole.
TOM
He's not arrogant; he's just ignorant.
LEV
And yet he's right:
this long before.

It's never taken

TOM
No.
(beat, relishing)
Because it's never needed to.
Lev, by eye-squinted at reproach, seems to glean something
novel about Tom.

32.
LEV
You're enjoying on this, aren't you?
(beat)
Thrill of the hunt?
Tom legitimately contemplates the inference.
TOM
(shrugging)
Job satisfaction.
Lev's agape mouth suggest an intent to rebuke, but the "BUZZ"
of Tom's CELL liberates Tom from further scrutiny.
He pounces to it (OFF); then swings attention to the
synchronized LAPTOP UI. The RED DOT BLIPs are now fixed, in
a GREEN PATCH.
ANNE
3.85 miles westward of her last static
position for a requisite of at least
180 minutes.
JACK
Seems our eagle has landed.
Tom rushes to pack unsecured GADGETS, including his LAPTOP.
ANNE
(vexed)
Eagle?
JACK
You know, one day I mean to teach
you the nuance of metaphor.
(beat)
Reckon it might blow your mind.
ANNE
Sounds violent.
EXTERIOR SHOT: Tom already has the vehicle in gear, and
proceeds to punch it down the PITCH-BLACK, FORESTED-ENSCONSED
RANGE ROAD PASS.
CUT TO:
EXT. RANGE ROAD PASS - MIDNIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
HEADLIGHTS LOW, deliberate and alert, Tom's SUV stalks his
GPS's proximal WAYPOINT.

33.
INT. TOM'S SUV - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
LEV
Tom.
TOM
Lev.
LEV
Tom if our owl's not just sleepingif it's not another false alarmTOM
It's not.
LEV
If it's not another false alarm, you
need to start thinking about your
approach.
JACK
I think you've been thinking plenty
for the lot of us, mate.
TOM
(distracted, scouring)
Elaborate.
LEV
(to Jack)
Thank you.
(beat, to Tom)
If he's smart and saw our bird, he'll
run. If he's insane, he just might
hang around.
(beat)
But if he's smart and insaneANNE
Two historically correlated traits.
LEV
(undaunted)
If he's smart and insane: you could
be headed into a trap.
TOM
That's not a novel risk for us, Lev-what's your point?
Lev submits a reluctant glance to Jack and then back to Tom.
LEV
We should call for backup.

34.
Jack, obviously expecting the suggestion, facepalms, shaking
his head derisively.
TOM
I don't know how many times we have
to revisit this subject, Lev.
LEV
This time's different.
TOM
More hands, more fingers to fumble.
(beat)
If our perp - however dissociated catches a cavalry behind us, we lose
him. Forever. And the girl dies.
LEV
"And the girl dies."
(beat, sotto)
Like it's a damn afterthought.
TOM
(into rear-view, at
Jack)
Crime and contingency don't mix.
Jack's brow furrows, facetiously, considering the profundity
of the aphorism he knows he created.
TOM (CONT'D)
(into rear-view, at
Lev)
Well, same goes for the forces in
place to stop it.
Lev, teeth-grit, subtly shakes his head, clearly not espousing
the excuse.
ANNE
(pointing)
Tom!
Throwing his vision dead-ahead, Tom reacts, wrenching the
WHEEL clockwise.
We catch a brief glimpse of a WHITE AND BEIGE FIGURE sprawled
across the ROAD before the SUV lifts, rears on its driver's
side, and slams to a ditched, MUDDY halt.
Tom, GUN & FLASHLIGHT drawn, and Team are already out,
surrounding the FIGURE as a four-point PANOPTICON.
They study it over their sholders: It's Eurydice, dead, RIGOR
MORTISED, WINGSPAN unnaturally unfurled.

35.
All four remain vigilant, scrutinizing the PITCH, AUTUMNAL,
THICK.
TOM
Anne.
ANNE
Contusions around her neck suggest
asphyxiation.
LEV
She landed.
JACK
To greet her better half.
An implicit understanding sweeps over the team with a solemn
GUST: Eurydice died for love.
TOM
We'll dust her.
Anne peeks briefly back again.
ANNE
Tom, her tracking chip is still
affixed.
Tom steals a bead off his phone.
TOM
And working.
LEV
He could've sabotaged us- killed us.
(beat)
Instead he- he
JACK
Drew a line in the sand.
TOM
Why?
JACK
A good predator marks his territory.
ANNE
A false, synonymic equivalency.
Jack leans to Anne, a dire disgust in his expression.
JACK
Never underestimate the capacity of
lonely men in dark places.

36.
LEV
Tom, he could be 50 miles out of
state by now.
TOM
No. He's been stalking Salem for a
reason. He was right here for a
reason.
(beat)
And until one of us can shed some
light on that reason, we're staying
right hInterrupting Tom, by the BEAMS of the ditched SUV's
HEADLIGHTS, a half-second SILHOUETTE of a 'HUMAN FIGURE',
casts grandiose across a CANOPY CANVAS.
Simultaneous: Tom swings violently around as the silhouetting
HEADLIGHT "SMASHES" to black (OFF), allotting just enough
time to discern a HUMANOID FIGURE bounding into the DENSE
FOREST.
JACK
... the fTOM
Follow it.
Tom and Team take chase leaping blind into the AUTUMNAL THICK.
CUT TO:
EXT. DEEP WOODS - MIDNIGHT
Lit by Tom's FLASHLIGHT and SLITS OF MOONLIGHT, banal
SILHOUETTES are suddenly--by a collective sense of alarm-BOLD, AMBIGUOUS, and INTIMIDATING.
Tom and Team heed their senses, above all.
TOM
Anne, what was it?
ANNE
I'm sorry, Tom, I couldn't discern.
LEV
Whatever it was, I swear it veered
west about 50 yards back.
No.

ANNE
Incorrect.

37.
JACK
(gesturing)
Nah, mate, I heard the bugger rustling
just that way a minute ago.
ANNE
Shut up.
(beat)
Please.
(beat)
Let me think.
Lev and Jack share a bemused glance at the admonishment.
Anne's eyes FLITTER, uncanny, as she seems to compile
intangible information.
Tom, Jack, and Lev wait on her conclusion.
TOM
Anne.
Her eyes spring open.
ANNE
(pointing)
It's that direction, no further than
100 yards.
Absolutely trusting, Tom wastes no time, bursting into dash,
with a cautious Lev, enthralled Jack, and blunted Anne in
tow.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE CLEARING - NIGHT
Tom and Team breach the THICK into a LEAFY CLEARING.
Immediately, glinting back, central to the clearing, a
distinct, METALLIC CONTRAPTION lay artificially poised.
Tom shares a "ready?"
forward.

look with each of his Team and proceeds

At first, by FLASH LIGHT, a CAGE takes shape--until by

circumnavigation its form connotes a more intelligent design.
LEV
Some sort of trap.
(beat)
For another bird?
JACK
Not with fruit it ain't.

38.
Jack gestures past the TRIP MECHANISM to the BAIT beyond:
GRAPES.
TOM
No, he's hunting something smarter.
LEV
(implying)
Or he's already caught it.
Tom withdraws LUMINOL KIT from a SATCHEL affixed to his BELT
and proceeds to douse the TRAP in spray. Immediately, by
the KIT's BLACKLIGHT, a score of PRINTS GLEAM abundant.
He sticks a SAMPLE to one of a SET of LAMINATE SLIDES. Yet,
going for a second, finds his attempt stymied by a nearby
UNINTELLIGIBLE MOAN (OFF).
He jolts to attention, securing his KIT in the same motion,
and draws GUN & FLASHLIGHT.
Another more dire MOAN echoes (OFF).
Now, with pure alarm about his expression and stance, Tom
tracks the source.
A GUST rolls in, sweeping ensconcing WILT-LEAFED BRANCHES
from their resting position, suddenly revealing the source.
Tom throws a BEAM OF LIGHT at it; its eyes squint... PINK:
Abigail, GAUNT, BEDRAGGLED, GAGGED, and BRUISED but alive,
tied to the TRUNK, strands of SILK WHITE hair tossing about,
angelic.
JACK
Caesar's-fat-Ghost.
Reflexively, Abigail starts to flail and SCREAM, muffled.
Tom, resolute, reels the BEAM to his own face, illuminating
index finger to mouth in the universal "Shh" position.
Abigail calms (OFF).
Tom moves in while Lev scours--interrogates--the tree-line;
Jack: still paralytically awed; and Anne: head tilted, and
by saccadic eyes, ardently seeming to suss out just how the
equation could be this simple.
Tom extends an arm...
LEV
Easy.

39.
But he's thwarted by a flurry of FEATHERS and a CACOPHONY of
HISSES and CLACKS: Orpheus, 'fight of flight' mode,
defensively BALLOONED UP, looms steadfast, LEG TETHERED,
between Tom and Abigail.
Tom meets the display with a drawn GUN, point blank.
LEV (CONT'D)
They appear to have bonded.
JACK
Flyboy found himself a better better
half.
(OFF).
Strafing, Orpheus matches Tom's gait- yet, before any of the
four can even incept the inkling of a plan--to rescue Abigail,
safely and quietly--a CLINK and RATTLE emanate behind. (OFF)
Tom throws his GUN (sight) & FLASHLIGHT to it...
For a second, mutually dumbfounded on both ends of the BEAM,
a MONKEY--BLUE-FACED, NOSELESS, foreign--almost alien--sits
ATOP the TRAP, a SQUASHED GRAPE in its clenched fist.
ANNE
That is... not endemic.
JACK
All right, where's Dr. Moreau hiding?
A "BUZZ" booms from Tom's pocket, pierces the tension.

(OFF)

Reacting, the skittish primate leaps off the TRAP and absconds
to the BRUSH.
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
No!
Tom flips around, to meet the Male Voice at gunpoint, but a
INDISCERNIBLE MAN, in the same motion, slaps Tom's FLASHLIGHT
& GUN to the FLOOR.
Tom goes for the his gun; the Shaded Man goes for the
FLASHLIGHT: the former further and the latter closer.
Tom seizes the weapon and abruptly raises his skull to a
THICK, METALLIC, "WHAP".
SMASH FADE TO:

40.
EXT. THE CLEARING - DAWN
A THICK HAZE suffuses the clearing; the space where the TRAP
was is now a SMOLDERING ruin.
Tom, alone, comes to, and hacks up a night's worth of smoke.
He feels the throbbing PROMINENCE at the back of his head
and withdraws three digits coated in DRIED, BROWN BLOOD.
He clambers to the fire. Remnants of destroyed evidence
protrude from the ashes: a CHARRED LUMINOL KIT, FLASHLIGHT,
CELLPHONE, GUN, and the mildest SHEEN of a SCORCHED FBI BADGE.
END OF ACT THREE

41.
ACT FOUR
INT. EMORY'S OFFICE - DAY
Tom (and Team) place a BURNT GLOCK and HOLSTER on Emory's
desk.
Emory gestures for him to 'get out'.
Seething, scowling, and ashamed: he turns for the DOOR.
CUT TO:
INT. TOM'S HOUSE - DAY
Tom, head-bandaged, and Jill are in the middle of a KITCHENTABLE conversation.
NASH and JOANNIE seem in the throngs of a VIDEO GAME PUZZLE
in the contiguous DEN.
JILL
Your face, your phone, your badge-he
saw it all?
Tom raising a hand, mouths a "shh", glances over to his
children and back.
TOM
We're safe. The Bureau's granted us
24 hour protection, at home and at
school.
JILL
As long as you're here.
Jill reaches out an arm to gently caress the skin around
Tom's head-bandage.
TOM
I won't be.
She retracts it.
JILL
What?
TOM
Jill, Emory doesn't need to save
lives, he only needs to close cases.
(beat)
He doesn't understand this case, but
above all he doesn't care.
(MORE)

42.
TOM (CONT'D)
(beat, grim)
And he'll close it: one way or the
other.
JILL
Tom, you're injured- you could be
arrested- you don't even have a gunWhat are you thinking?
TOM
I'm thinking there's a child out
there, in immediate danger, whose
life depends on the information in
my head.
Jill relents, sighing, seeming to acknowledge Tom's logic,
despite the validity of her own.
JILL
What can you even do?
Tom turns to his children and then back to his wife.
TOM
I can give a damn.
CUT TO:
INT. TOM'S STUDY - NIGHT
The stark, stock IMAGE of a GOLDEN SNUB-NOSED MONKEY bolstered
by Tom's LAPTOP'S LIGHT centralizes the huddle of Tom and
Team.
TOM
An albino adolescent, a barn owl,
and nowANNE
A golden snub-nosed monkey. Endemic
to sparse regions of China; however
I can recall a zoological facility
within Massachusetts once held this
species.
TOM
And let me guess: our perp lost it
trying to steal it.
ANNE
Correct.
(MORE)

43.
ANNE (CONT'D)
I recall news coverage of the
incident: the animal eluded our
suspect during the theft, and leaving
behind no actionable evidence, our
suspect fled successfully.
JACK
(gesturing to the
screen)
But hung around for his monkey.
pun.

No

Jack, ZIPPO already FLICKED and out (OFF), proceeds to cup a

flame around a lip-dangling CIGARETTE.
JACK (CONT'D)
I loath puns.

Seriously.

LEV
Explain his skulking Salem.
a golden snub-nosed.

But why

JACK
Mayhaps... he fancied a familiar.
TOM
Still harping on witchcraft, Jack?
JACK
(to the screen)
You're telling me your scrote don't
cinch at the sight of that demon?
Lev shakes his head.

Anne squints an eye, confused.

By piqued expression and a subsequent stare at the IMAGE,

Tom's Seems to contemplate the validity of the comment.
TOM
No.
(beat)
I'm not.
LEV
I don't know what's going on in both
your pants right now, but I may have
a theory.
All three turn to Lev.
LEV (CONT'D)
For whatever reason our perp is taking
these subjects: he needs them.
(MORE)

44.
LEV (CONT'D)
If he didn't, he'd leave he'd tread
less softly, and he'd probably have
killed you, Tom, provoking the wrath
of state law enforcement to "his"
forest.
(beat)
Now, all three subjects seem too
eclectic to discern, with any
confidence, a distinct commonality.
(beat)
But we're not thinking like an insane
man, and, more importantly, we're
not thinking like a scared man.
Jack smirks.
JACK
You sure about that, mate?
LEV
We're not thinking subconsciously.
Anne mulls it over for a moment.
ANNE
That statement is a paradox.
LEV
(to Anne)
Yes, it is.
(beat, to Tom)
But that's where we find method in
madness.
A solemnity overwhelms the Team, each idiosyncratically piqued
by Lev's theory.
JACK
So should we all, like, get high or
something?
Lev chuckles--a rare event.
LEV
Maybe.
Suddenly, Anne perks, oddly stilted.
ANNE
Tom, I'm struck by a novel thought.
TOM
Go.

45.
ANNE
Can you create a facial composite of
Abigail, a barn own, and a golden
snub-nosed monkey?
TOM
Sure.
Tom takes to an IMAGE EDITING UI on his LAPTOP; we watch as
he juxtaposes the three subjects' IMAGE LAYERS, and clicks
"RENDER".
The COMPOSITE IMAGE POPS to the screen like a B-movie, shockscare: its looks QUINTESSENTIALLY like a "GREY ALIEN".
Jack reels and gapes, dropping his cigarette;
and nods, validated.

Lev grimaces

ANNE
Exemplary.
Tom retains a stoicism, as if his team's collective reactions
did the 'expressing' for him.
ANNE (CONT'D)
(to Jack)
What do you see?
JACK
Hmm. I'd have to say my worst
nightmare coupled with the reason I
refuse to use the term "probe".
ANNE
(to Tom)
What do you see?
TOM
It looks like an alien.
(beat)
You think the abductions are related
to alien conspiracy obsession? Why
wouldn't he show any signs?
LEV
Because he's not obsessed with aliens.
(beat)
He's obsessed with what they look
like.
(beat, to Anne)
He's obsessed with an archetype.
Anne nods.

46.
ANNE
A Jungian Archetype.
(beat)
'The Grey Alien': Its image evokes a
primal emotional response as it
incarnates the motif of the Darwinian
fear of emaciation, disease, and/or
death.
JACK
Yup, I'm getting some of that.
LEV
A skeleton, a decaying corpse, a
ghost, a scarecrow, Slenderman- hell,
even the shadow of a few twigs:
they're all motifs of the same
archetype.
ANNE
Though the Grey Alien is the North
American quintessence.
TOM
So he wasn't looking for a golden
snub-nosed monkey; he was looking
for an alien nose, or rather: a lack
thereof.
LEV
On a living thing.
(beat)
He's collecting pieces of a fear he
doesn't have for an obsession he
doesn't know.
JACK
And we just spooked away his rarest
piece.
LEV
He'll catch up to it- he knows these
woods.
(beat, to Jack)
And you were right, he's living out
of his van, else he'd never let his
pieces get that close.
JACK
Thank you.
LEV
Tom, you've gotta get him, but without
jeopardizing Abigail's life, let
alone yours.

47.
JACK
And your gunless, mate. Stripped
down to bloody fisticuffs.
A brief silence punctuates the dialectic, as each member
registers the newly evinced facts.
TOM
Fisticuffs are underrated.
Jack grins.
ANNE
Then, Tom, what is our "plan of
attack"?
To mulls a moment to compose the thought, to articulate an
answer.
TOM
Our perp's just a collector, chasing
a rare piece.
(beat)
We just need to find him a 'one of a
kind'.
CUT TO:
INT. TOM'S SUV - DAY
Tom and Team are on-route, URBAN.
Lev is sat in the PASSENGER SEAT.
TOM
Lev.
Lev turns, brow-furrowed, to Tom.
TOM (CONT'D)
I owe you an apology.
Lev blinks, nonplussed.
TOM (CONT'D)
You were right, back there, in the
woods- I shoud've been more diligentI should've listened to you the whole
time.
(beat)
I was chasing the challenge
(pause)
I lost sight of the stakes.

48.
A minute, affable smile flashes across Lev's face and
dissipates.
LEV
Bah. If you always listened to me,
we'd probably never leave the gate.
(pause, gesturing Tom
and Team)
We have to play together. Or we
can't play at all.
Tom nods, content.
CUT TO:
INT. PROFESSOR'S OFFICE, HARVARD - DAY
ANGLE ON:
A blunt, shameless, graphic close-up of an neutral PROFESSOR
FARAH (30's, hijab, Middle-Eastern accent): a woman missing
3/4 OF HER NOSE, due to what seems like textbook "acid
shaming".
She looks down contemplatively at the SINGED FBI BADGE on
her DESK before raising a piqued expression to the individual
across her.
PROFFESSOR FARAH
That is some theory, agent.
The individual is a stoic Tom, ensconced by his Team.
TOM
Professor Farah, you could die.
There's a fair chance you'll be
injured
(beat, grim)
Or worse.
JACK
You really know how to sell it, mate.
PROFFESSOR FARAH
I am accustomed to "worse".
TOM
Yes. That's exactly why I'm here:
I've read your work. I know what
you fight for.
PROFFESSOR FARAH
So you assume you know what I'd die
for?

49.
Tom is minutely taken aback- but she doesn't wait for a
response.
PROFFESSOR FARAH (CONT'D)
(wistful)
Even before I was burnt, I suffered.
I suffered vicariously, agent.
(beat)
There's an indescribable sort of...
agony one experiences witnessing
their kind suffering voicelessly,
daily- not just back home.
(beat)
Everywhere.
Tom's gaze drops, nodding, acknowledging a particular pain
he knows he can never understand.
PROFFESSOR FARAH (CONT'D)
Every second, somewhere, a little
girl, or the little girl inside,
screams. And no one seems to hear
her.
(pause)
The acid hurt. But it didn't hurt
as much as the realization I had
stood indifferent to such universal
torment.
(beat)
In my first effort to fight it, I
was burned.
Professor Farah lifts two fingers to the ACID-SEARED remains
of a NOSE.
PROFFESSOR FARAH (CONT'D)
I doesn't hurt anymore.
(beat)
But I still suffer vicariously.
Tom lifts his head to meet her gaze--an heroic fervency now
in her eyes.
PROFFESSOR FARAH (CONT'D)
I'll help you, Agent Rappaport. Not
just for the little girl.
She lays a hand on the SINGED FBI BADGE and slides it back
to Tom.
PROFFESSOR FARAH (CONT'D)
But because I'm not the only one in
this room with scars.

50.
Tom is again taken aback, now noticeably perturbed by the
profound invasion of her inference, but swiftly recomposes,
stands, and offers a hand.
TOM
Thank you, Professor.
Professor Farah stands in response and requites him with a
hand shake.
CUT TO:
SERIES OF SHOTS
1. A CAMPUS POSTER DEPICTING FARAH'S FACE PITTED AGAINST AN
ORTHODOX, ISLAMICALLY-GARBED MAN, ADVERTISING A DEBATE EVENT
TITLED: "WOMEN AND RELIGION".
2. A STUDENT STUMBLING UPON AN ADVERTISEMENT WITH THE SAME
POSTER ON THEIR TABLET'S WEB BROWSER
3. THE POSTER AFFIXED TO A STREETLIGHT EVIDENTLY OUTSIDE OF
CAMPUS SPACE.
4. A FRONT PAGE BOSTON GLOBE NEWSPAPER FEATURE OF A CROP OF
THE POSTER, HEADLINED, "'PROFESSOR TAKES ON REPRESSOR'".
5. A TV SCREEN PLAYING A MASSACHUSETTS NEWS STATION INTERVIEW
IN WHICH A MUTED FARAH AND HOST CHAT ABOVE A TICKER TITLED,
"UNIVERSITY DEBATE: 'WOMEN AND ISLAM'".
6. A POV OF AN UNKNOWN INDIVIDUAL VIEWING THE NEWS STATION
INTERVIEW ON A MOBILE PHONE.
FADE TO:
INT. BACKSTAGE - EVENING
The dissonant ROAR of crowd's applause WAXES AND FADES.
(OFF).
We see what appears a pre-performance pep talk from Tom
civilian-clad (his Team hovering about the room), to Professor
Farah.
But Farah's BROW'S SWEAT and bated breathing say otherwise.
PROFFESSOR FARAH
I've never been so nervous after a
debate.
Tom hands her a BOTTLED WATER; she takes a few gulps.

51.
TOM
For what it's worth, it looked like
you won.
ANNE
By applause volume and frequency,
77.8% of the crowd appeared to be in
the Professor's favor.
PROFFESSOR FARAH
You don't win these things, agent.
You only decapitate a spot for three
more heads to sprout.
JACK
I like her.
Farah pulls back her HIJAB, revealing a cascade of BLACK,
FLOWING LOCKS.
PROFFESSOR FARAH
Did you see him?
(beat)
Out there?
No.

TOM
And I didn't expect to.

LEV
He's likely stalking the building as
we speak.
She lifts a specific LOCK up and touches the MICROCHIP affixed
by an ADHESIVE to her scalp.
PROFFESSOR FARAH
Is it still working?
Tom pulls an ancient FBI GPS RADIO TRACKER from an his FBI
UTILITY BAG, checks the UI, and nods.
TOM
It's old but it's trusty, and he
won't touch you there.
Tom seems to realize the insensitivity of the comment once
spoken aloud.
TOM (CONT'D)
I'm sorry.
FARAH
NoFarah meets Tom's gaze with resolve...

52.
FARAH (CONT'D)
After today, he won't touch anyone
anywhere.
But her trembling hands betray the bravado.
LEV
Tom, we shouldTOM
We should get going. We can't let
the crowd thin too much, or he'll
start to suspect something.
(beat)
Are you ready?
Farah shifts pensive for a moment, like an intellectual,
interrogating her mind for the most apt answer.
Farah re-dons her HIJAB.
FARAH
Yes, I believe so.
TOM
I'll be watching you the whole way.
Farah casts a dire smile and offers a less-tremulous hand.
FARAH
Assalamu Alaikum, Agent Rappaport.
Tom requites the gesture and shakes her hand, expressing, at
least for her, the utmost confidence in his eyes.
CUT TO:
EXT. UNIVERSITY CAMPUS - DUSK
It's HALLOWEEN NIGHT: the campus and Boston's streets are
engulfed in COSTUMES, SCREAMS, and the inebriated.
Professor Farah bursts out into the masquerade, with a brisk
amble, feigning her best effort at 'casual'.
ANONYMOUS POV
We watch Farah traverse the CAMPUS at about 100 yards
distance. She waves to fellow COLLEAGUES and STUDENTS.
BACK TO SCENE
Farah makes a visibly hesitant but intrepid step off the
HARVARD CAMPUS and onto URBAN TERRITORY.

53.
She turns a block, to find a STREET of METER-PARKED VEHICLES
abutted by small STUDENT HOUSING. It appears safe; a
becalming complacency removes some of the terror from her
face.
ANONYMOUS POV:
We're closer now, and mobile; we cross perpendicular to the
FARAH'S PATH, from behind, and lose sight of her by the
approach of the next BLOCK.
BACK TO SCENE
The SUN has fully dipped under the horizon; Farah continues
to traverse the METER-PARKED VEHICLES on her route.
Occasionally, an odd COSTUMED/MASKED STRANGER passes, either
directly ahead, behind, or on the opposite SIDEWALK, causing
simultaneous waves of terror and relief.
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
Excuse me?
Professor Farah jolts around with a leap, 'fight or flight'
strewn about her PALID CHEEKS.
An plain attire, keenly-dressed, naive-faced, downright
HANDSOME MAN purports a CAMPUS MAP and an inquiry.
HANDSOME MAN
I'm sorry. Do you go here?
just looking for the campus
administration building.

I'm

Farah calms cautiously and requites his gesture with a

trembling hand.
PROFFESSOR FARAH
(to the map,)
Yes. Right here.
But her finger is shaking too much.
HANDSOME MAN
I'm sorry- I can't- are you cold?
Farah takes a dry swallow.
PROFFESSOR FARAH
No, I'm just- long day.
HANDSOME MAN
Oh boy, I know how it is.
(beat)
Here.

54.
The Handsome Man gently wraps a few fingers around hers,
like a pen.
HANDSOME MAN (CONT'D)
(genial)
Better?
Farah, soothed by the contact--the instant physical lack of
isolation--is able to guide his hand and her finger to the
SPOT.
PROFFESSOR FARAH
It's right... there.
He releases her hand.
HANDSOME MAN
Oh, geeze. Make it more obscure,
why don't they.
Farah feigns a half-cathartic chuckle.
PROFFESSOR FARAH
They want to make it difficult for
people.
He smiles, reassuring- tranquil.
ANONYMOUS POV
We're directly in front of Farah.
CGI SHOT: The remnant of her nose GLOWS WHITE, RIPPLES HOT,
with DEEPER, BLACKER PITS for nostrils... HALLUCINATORY.
HANDSOME MAN
What's victory without a little
struggle?
CUT TO:
INT. TOM'S SUV - DUSK
A SHRILL, DIRE, FEMALE SCREAM emanates across entire block
and MUFFLES to a DEAD SILENCE before it can naturally fade.
We catch a VAN--bat out of hell--blazing down Tom's Tom's
line-of-sight and out of sight.
JACK
Bloody hell.
Tom's attention darts to his obsolete GPS, alert and composed.

55.
LEV
I didn't see her.
her?

Did anyone see

ANNE
(to Lev)
It makes no difference.
JACK
(to Tom)
Well!
TOM
No.
JACK
No?
TOM
Not yet.
Tom keeps his eyes brutally fixed to the GPS.
The BLIP on the UI begins to move and gain momentum, EAST,
OUTSKIRT-BOUND.
Jesus man!

JACK
I'm 'bout to shTOM

Now.
Tom throws the GEAR in drive, slams the PEDAL down, and ROARS
off.
CUT TO:
INT. HANDSOME MAN'S VAN - NIGHT
A FENCE CAGE BARRIER separates The Man from a BIRD-FECESladen, ROTTED-FOOD-strewn, DETRITUS DUMP of VAN-BED.
Above a BALLOONED UP, HISSING and CLACKING Orpheus: Abigail,
GAUNT, GAGGED, ZIPTIE CUFFED, and light-headed lifts her
gaze to meet and vexedly discern a GAGGED and ZIPTIE CUFFED
Professor Farah.
Farah, concerned, crawls towards Abigail; Orpheus SHRIEKS
HANDSOME MAN
(fiendish)
Shut up!
(OFF).

56.
HANDSOME MAN'S POV
CGI SHOT, HALLUCINATORY: Orpheus's OVULAR eye-sockets GLOW
WHITE, RIPPLE HOT, with DEEP, BLACK PITS for EYES; Farah's
NOSE does likewise; and Abigail's WHITE-GLOWING, RIPPLINGHOT SKIN sheaths an EMACIATED, LANKY FRAME long in LIMB and
HALLUCINATORYLY THIN & STRETCHED in NECK.
BACK TO SCENE
The Handsome Man snaps back to the wheel, eyes forward, and
inhales a deep, primal lungful of corrupted lust.
Back in the VAN-BED, Farah waves her head, beckoning, at
Abigail.
Abigail wakes once more, for a moment, to meet Farah.
Farah locks eye-contact with Abigail, and nods fiercely,
reassuringly.
Abigail furrows her brow, oblivious to the confirmation's
meaning, but clearly now more awake because of it.
She then pivots on her bottom, to reveal a SHANK in a CUFFED
FIST's GRIP, as well as Orpheus's and her own TETHERS SEVERED.
A proud smile comes over the corners of Farah's eyes.
Abigail peeks up to check The Man's attention, before slyly
shimmying backwards to Farah with the SHANK.
Farah pivots around, so their hands can 'dock': it's a
brutally tense, almost slow-motioned, beat, until the SHANK
is nearly within Farah's CUFFED GRASP...
But suddenly, with a SWERVE, SLAM, and SCREECH of the VAN'S
BRAKES, all three are tossed violently to the CAGE BARRIER.
The VAN rears on its driver's side, almost identical to TOM's
SUV earlier on, and "THUNKS" to a halt. (OFF).
HANDSOME MAN (CONT'D)
(sotto)
Impossible.
Farah SCREAMS under her GAG: the SHANK has lodged itself in
her LOWER BACK. At the sight of it, Abigail's eyes light
up; however, Farah is quick to placate her, cradling Abigail's
head in the crook of her neck.
Orpheus, battered and dazed, doesn't seem to mind the contact.

57.
EXT. THE HIGHWAY - NIGHT
The Handsome Man, enraptured, exits his VAN, to investigate
the phenomenon dead ahead.
HANDSOME MAN'S AURAL AND VISUAL POV
CGI SHOT: A GREY ALIEN, WHITE HOT RIPPLING FLESH, ethereal,
head-tilted, GLISTENING, saunters towards us, with a LANKY,
beckoning, out-stretched ARM.
All sound of the BUSTLING HIGHWAY is DROWNED into a MUTED
AURA of EXALTATION.
We move closer, our BATED BREATH'S HEAVE punctuating each
step.
All peripheral color and shape FADE and BLEED together under
the GREY ALIEN's GLOW.
We gaze into the eyes of EVANESCENT PROVIDENCE INCARNATE,
just close enough to contact its outstretched, exonerating,
liberating...
Fisticuff, square to our face.
BACK TO SCENE
Tom, in a SKIN-TIGHT, GREY SPANDEX SUIT, hastily tosses off
a realistic GREY ALIEN FACE-MASK, kicks The Handsome Man's
kneepits, forcing him to the ground, SLAPS & CINCHES a PAIR
OF HANDCUFFs around his ARMS, and CINCHES a LARGE ZIPTIE
CUFF around his ANKLES, binding them.
About the two, a GROUP OF BYSTANDERS AND DRIVERS seem to
have gathered, for what no one seems certain is either a
movie set or reality.
Tom's Team appear in frame, as he, and his SINGED but
GLINTING, BELT-AFFIXED BADGE moves to face The Handsome Man.
TOM
You have the right to remain silent.
The Handsome Man drops his head to the PAVEMENT and breaks
into blubbering.
TOM (CONT'D)
And- you know the rest.
(beat)
Don't move.
He doesn't.

58.
Tom beelines to the VAN, opens the unlocked DRIVER'S SIDE
DOOR, and UNLOCKs the REST.
Coming about, he swings the SIDE DOOR OPENLEV
Tom.
TOM
Right.
Ripping open and effectively destroying the SPANDEX SUIT,
Tom withdraws a DEAD MOUSE from a PLASTIC BAG in his POCKET.
Damn.
posh.

JACK
I thought that look was rather

He tosses it to Orpheus--a preemptive strike--that seems to

adequately placate and distract the bird.
Tom moves in, with a SWISS ARMY KNIFE already in hand, and
wastes no time cutting each captive's GAGS.
TOM
Are either of you hurt?
PROFFESSOR FARAH
She needs fluids; she's conscious
but barely.
Tom spots the SHANK in Farah's LOWER BACK while cutting their
ZIPTIE CUFFS and BINDS loose.
Farah meets his gaze.
PROFFESSOR FARAH (CONT'D)
Just another scar for the books,
agent.
ANNE
It's not life threatening.
Tom exhales in relief and puts a hand on Farah's shoulder.
TOM
Thank you. For everything.
(beat)
I'll make certain The Bureau rewards
you for this.
FARAH
Agent.
(beat)
I am already rewarded.

59.
Farah turns her gaze to Abigail and winces.
TOM
Put pressure around it.
Orpheus, tilting his head every which way, seems to calculate
the consequences of an SEVERED TETHER and an OPEN DOOR.
But not too long before he LAUNCHES out DOOR and SOARS UP
into a CRESCENT MOON.
ABIGAIL
Hedwig!
Abigail begins to cry, but Tom lifts her head chin with thumb
and index finger.
TOM
Hey, I want you to know, you're an
extremely brave young woman.
ABIGAIL
Why?
TOM
(matter-of-fact)
You survived.
(beat, to both)
Stay here, don't move until the
ambulance arrives.
Farah nods through her pain; Abigail nods through her daze.
Tom takes a moment to compose himself, fix his HAIR, DUST
off the shoulders.
He grabs and dons from his SUV his FBI JACKET; it seems to
flail now in the breeze like cape.
He and Team move over to The Handsome Man, still on his knees,
forehead to pavement.
Tom kneels, as close as he get to face-to-face.
TOM (CONT'D)
The police are coming. Before they
get here and prod you for answers
that you don't know, I want you to
know something(beat)
I want you to listen to closely, all
right?
No response.

60.
TOM (CONT'D)
You're sick, and you always will be.
But you don't have be like this.
Everything you did, you did against
a healthier man's will.
(beat)
I know what it's like. What you
have: I... I'm like you.
(beat)
The world won't wait up for people
like us; we'll get no accolades for
our inner battles.
(beat)
But if we choose not to fight- well...
Tom scours the FREEWAY, the LIGHTS, the freedom.
TOM (CONT'D)
That's what makes the difference
between a badge under your belt or
the pavement under your head.
The Handsome Man breaks into morbid chortle, spitting a gob
of BLOOD between Tom's knees.
JACK
Nasty.
The Man raises his head slightly, to meet Tom's eyes, just
by the slit under his upper eyelid.
HANDSOME MAN
You'll never stop us.
Us?

TOM
Who's us? The voices?

Another grim snicker followed by a head shake.

HANDSOME MAN
The one's like me.
(beat)
And not like you.
On the last word, The Man throws his head up, busting Tom in
the nose, bounding to his feet by the freedom of a SEVERED
ZIPTIE.
Tom, disoriented, fails to grab The Man, who's already
dashing, maniacally, towards the VAN: Professor Farah and
Abigail, peering out off the side.
But before he can get to them...

61.
A FLURRY OF SHRIEKING WHITE & BROWN FEATHERS, descends onto
him, and RENDS.
His body falls to pavement, releases BLOOD-GURGLING,
ASPHYXIATING GASPS.
Abigail, peeking from the van, witnesses the whole attack.
Hedwig!

ABIGAIL
Bad!

By her shout, Orpheus withdraws, and licks the BLOOD off his
FEATHERS.
ANNE
Exemplary.
Tom approaches THE BODY, and, although we don't see the wound,
the POOL OF ARTERIAL BLOOD and Tom's expression tell all.
LEV
What do you think he meant?
JACK
What makes you think he meant
anything?
TOM
He meant something.
(beat)
And I don't like it.
Tom clenches his jaw, grimacing up to the CRESCENT MOON.
FADE TO:
SERIES OF SHOTS
1. ABIGAIL IS REUNITED WITH PARENTS, FAMILY, AND FRIENDS IN
THE HOSPITAL.
2. TOM, SURROUNDED BY HIS TEAM, SLIDES A BURNT BADGE AND A
CASE FOLDER ACROSS EMORY'S DESK. EMORY BEGRUDGINGLY SLIDES
A GLOCK AND SHIMMERING NEW BADGE BACK.
3. PROFESSOR FARAH, IN HER OFFICE, GLANCES AT HER NEW
CONVERSATION STARTER: A RED-STAINED METAL SHANK ENCASED IN A
GLASS BOX.
4. TOM RECLINES BETWEEN HIS TWO CHILDREN, WATCHING THEM
COOPERATE ON A VIDEO GAME. JILL, FROM BEHIND, SLIDES HER
HANDS DOWN HIS CHEST. THEY SHARE A KISS.
FADE TO:

62.
INT. PSYCHIATRIST'S OFFICE, BOSTON DAY (CONTINUOUS)
It's another amiable meeting between Tom and his most trusted
confidante, Dr. Liu.
LIU
Jungian archetypes?

Really?

Tom shrugs, matter-of-fact.

LIU (CONT'D)
You should've let me weigh in.
TOM
I think I've got enough voices in my
ear for now.
Liu smiles.
LIU
On that note, you never let me finish
telling you about the new medication.
Tom sighs.
TOM
Doc, I can't. You know I can't.
LIU
You can't even give it try.
TOM
I can't even give it a try.
LIU
Without it, you'll always be less
whole than you could be- than you
should be.
We slowly TRACK out from office window, as they continue the
discussion.
TOM (V.O.)
I'm beginning to like "less whole".
CGI TRACK: We pick up great momentum, soaring over the STREETS
and CITY of BOSTON.
LIU (V.O.)
It's not ideal.
We pass the URBAN BUSTLE, over and through an AUTUMNAL, RURAL
MASSACHUSETTS.

63.
TOM (V.O.)
What's ideal?
We're very rural now--almost all DENSE, LEAFY FOREST.
LIU (V.O.)
I don't know. I suppose closer to
the middle of every spectrum.
TOM (V.O.)
But the middle can't do what I can
do.
LIU (V.O.)
True; however, the middle is...
happier.
We've come to a RURAL town now: something more like a RELIC
of an older time.
TOM (V.O.)
I'm not unhappy, doc.
LIU (V.O.)
Well, you're not un-unhappy.
TOM (V.O.)
(chuckles)
No, I guess I'm not.
LIU (V.O.)
What would you say you are then?
We halt at an OLD WOODEN SIGN that reads: "SALEM".
sits a familiar GOLDEN SNUB-NOSED MONKEY.

Atop it,

TOM (V.O.)
Ha, I suppose if I had to put it
into a word... It'd be something
more like...
The MONKEY seems to notice our presence; it tilts its head
curiously at the camera.
TOM (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Disturbed.
FADE OUT.