Tuesday 14 August 2012

Scribblers: Unleashed

Scribblers
"Unleashed"

by Steffan Alun

1.    EXT.  GLACIER STADIUM - Day 7.  0900

A small ice-themed stadium.  Lots of stalls around selling food.  A very small number of FANS around the place, all wearing red scarves.  A single fan wearing a blue scarf.

He approaches a MOTHER and TWO CHILDREN wearing red scarves.

BLUE FAN
Excuse me.  Have the blue fans gone in already?

MOTHER
I think there’s just you, sorry love.

BLUE FAN
I can’t be the only one supporting him!

MOTHER
Who are you supporting, exactly?

CUT TO:

2.    INT.  GLACIER ARENA – Day 7.  0905

COOL BOX is standing in an indoor arena, in a morning suit and ice-themed mask.  The arena is surrounded by a seating area, and has two large closed entrances to the central arena itself.

COOL BOX
What a wonderful morning for a battle.

Zoom out to reveal he’s talking to the BLUE RAINBOW SOLDIER (female, indifferent, proud).  Also in the arena are FIFTY GOONS in generic outfits.

BLUE SOLDIER
Yes, great.  Who are we fighting, did you say?

COOL BOX
Only the Flaming Three!  Oh, yes, Blue.  Today, the flames will be frozen, and ice shall defeat fire.

BLUE SOLDIER
Right, yeah.  Weren’t they the Flaming Five?

COOL BOX
McFireball went to join Scotland’s national team, and Ashes is dead at the moment.

BLUE SOLDIER
That’s good.  Ashes is solid.

COOL BOX
Oh, I think I’m more than a match for Ashes.

BLUE SOLDIER (sarcastically)
Ha!
(beat)
Sorry.

The FANS start entering, taking their seats around the arena.

COOL BOX
Welcome, everyone!  If you could just let me know when you’re all in.

MOTHER
I think this is it, love.

COOL BOX
Aw, really?  Fine.

BLUE SOLDIER
You should’ve promoted it a bit more.

COOL BOX
Yes, okay.

BLUE SOLDIER
Really, though.  The poster didn’t even mention who was fighting.  I bet these guys are only here because the Flaming Three put it on their website.

Cool Box spots the BLUE FAN taking his seat.

COOL BOX
At least my brother made it.  My sister couldn’t get the time off work.

BLUE SOLDIER
It is an awkward time for people ...

COOL BOX
Yes, all right!  Let’s just –

The lights die down.

COOL BOX
Heh.  Here they come.

A drum roll –

The opposite entrance opens –

And AMITY and LYRIC enter.

COOL BOX
What?  Who are you?

LYRIC
Sorry about this.  Change of plans.  We’re letting the Flaming Three off the hook.

AMITY
Yeah.  We’ve been meaning to get around to nabbing you, and this seems as good a time as any.

COOL BOX
Who are you people?

SHIFT and WRAITH enter.

SHIFT
Oh, that’s right.  You never met, did you?

WRAITH
We told them all about you.  I think.  Everything important, anyway.

LYRIC
Didn’t take long.

SHIFT
Yeah.  We got your diadem, so ...

COOL BOX
The diadem – you’re ...

CHRONAL enters.

CHRONAL
I can’t believe you don’t remember us.  We’re big trouble, you know.

COOL BOX
Oh, I remember you.  Leader of the Scribblers.  This is the whole team.

CHRONAL
Former leader.

COOL BOX
Hang on.  So that means –

FINESSE enters.

COOL BOX
No no no!  Not you!  Blue, get them!

And he runs for the door –

Chronal lifts his hand –

SHIFT
Don’t bother.  You sort these guys out.  I want to show him my party piece.

And she becomes a WASP.

Cool Box gets through the door –

Which closes –

The wasp reaches the door –

Becomes a FLEA –

Which slides through a tiny gap below the door.

The Blue Soldier attacks Wraith –

And freezes in place.

CHRONAL
Couldn’t he afford more than one Rainbow Soldier?

WRAITH
Yeah.  They’re not pricy.

FINESSE
And Cool Box is old money.

CHRONAL
So old it’s expired.

AMITY
Good one.

Amity suddenly turns –

Facing GOON ONE holding a brick.

Amity holds up her hand.

AMITY
Hate yourself.

GOON ONE
I don’t ...

AMITY
We do not brick people, young goon.

GOON ONE
I know.  I just ... I don’t know why I do these things.

He falls into a sitting position.

And the remaining goons attack.

We jump around the arena from fight to fight.

GOON TWO, facing Lyric, reaches with his right hand for a truncheon on the left side of his belt.

LYRIC
Handcuffs.

The goon’s hands are handcuffed together –

He swings the truncheon towards Lyric –

Pulling his left hand along –

And falling comically to the side.

LYRIC
Blindfold.

Reveal GOON THREE behind him, about to attack –

Now blindfolded –

Falls on top of Goon Two.

GOON FOUR is facing Wraith.

WRAITH
Check out my invisible knife.

GOON FOUR
What?

Wraith mimes slashing horizontally at waist level.

WRAITH
No more hands.

GOON FOUR
Argh!

He holds up his arms so that his hands would be at face level, but the hands are missing.

Wraith hits Goon Four in the face with Goon Four’s invisible hands –

Which become visible again.

WRAITH
Lol.

FINESSE is facing GOON FIVE.

FINESSE
Tell me, Goon.  Are you afraid of me?

GOON FIVE
I can take you.

FINESSE
Wrong answer.  Your employer’s scared of me.  He had no idea I was coming, but he’s hired forty-nine goons with no powers.  I think he wanted to be able to take me.

GOON FIVE
Come on.  Hit me.  I dare you.

FINESSE
No, no.  That’s not how I work.  You have powers, so I’m going to let you embarrass yourself by trying to beat me first –

GOON FIVE
I don’t have powers.

FINESSE
Oh.  Oh!  You didn’t know?

She grins menacingly.

FINESSE
Shall we discover them together?

She holds out a hand –

And SPIKES explode out of Goon Five’s body.

Goon Five SCREAMS.

Fifteen goons surround Chronal, including GOON SIX.

GOON SIX
Even you aren’t fast enough to defeat us all.

All fifteen of the goons are unconscious on the ground.

CHRONAL
I think I just beat my personal best.

CUT TO:

3.    INT.  STADIUM STAIRCASE – Day 7.  0910

A narrow metal staircase.  COOL BOX half-running, half-tripping towards the top.

A SPANIEL chasing and barking.

COOL BOX
Go away!

He gets to the top –

Enters a door –

CUT TO:

4.    INT.  STADIUM OFFICE – Day 7.  0911

A tiny office – just a desk, a swivel chair and some filing cabinets.  On the desk is a large black device – a lash-up that looks like it’s made of bits of bicycle frame and wires.  In the centre is an orange crystal, attached to the wires.

COOL BOX falls in.

The SPANIEL jumps towards him –

And becomes SHIFT.

SHIFT
Fighting some superheroes to prove ice beats fire?  Dream bigger, for God’s sake, Cool Box.

COOL BOX
You’ve ruined my plan.

SHIFT
And you really need a new name.

Cool Box spins suddenly –

And blasts Shift with an ice beam.

The beam fades.

Shift is fine – but has grey rhino skin.

SHIFT
I’ve been practicing this one.  Rhinos are immune to your ice.  Did you know that?

COOL BOX
No!

He pulls up the sleeve of his jacket –

And places his forearm on Shift’s face.

SHIFT
Oh, yes, that won’t help either.

She hits him hard –

And he’s down.

Shift approaches the black device.

SHIFT
Brilliant, you brought the crystal.  What have you done to it, you weirdo?

COOL BOX
The teleportation ... it needed refining ...

SHIFT
You’re joking!  Where did you end up?

COOL BOX
... Indonesia.

SHIFT
Funny.  What does this wire do?

She removes a wire from the left side of the device.

COOL BOX
You fool!  That’s for sending me away!

SHIFT
What about this one?

COOL BOX
Don’t touch anything else!

Shift hands him a small switch.

COOL BOX
Get off it.

He dives for the device –

SHIFT
Oh, if you’re escaping, I’m –

Shift grabs hold of the device –

As Cool Box grabs the other side –

And presses a button.

The crystal glows.

They’re both engulfed by an orange light.

The light fades.

Shift and Cool Box are still in the office –

But the device is missing.

SHIFT
Um.  Coming with you?

Cool Box faints.

Ice spreads across his entire body, as in Cool Box Scene 13.

SHIFT
Useless.

FINESSE and LYRIC enter.

LYRIC
Hello.  Do you need any help saving the day?

FINESSE
Ooh, look what you’ve done!  That’s what I did to him.

SHIFT
There’s a problem.

FINESSE
You’re not Shift.

SHIFT
You always knew her so well.

FINESSE
What have you done with her?

SHIFT
The ice man’s crystal.  It teleported us away.  And it left us here.

FINESSE
Hang on.  You’re Fauna.

SHIFT
I’m afraid so.

FINESSE
And that means –

CUT TO:

5.    EXT.  HELIPAD – Day 7.  0915

Top of a skyscraper.  A small helicopter waiting.

SHIFT and COOL BOX appear with a flash of orange.  They’re holding the device.

SHIFT
Oh.
(sing-song)
I’ve got a helicopter.

She becomes a GORILLA, but this is not the usual Shift-Gorilla.  This is a larger, vicious, fanged variety.

She knocks out Cool Box with a punch to the head.

He ices over.

The gorilla becomes Shift again.

SHIFT
I am unleashed.  I can finally walk upon the ground.

She turns to the helicopter.

SHIFT
But first I will fly.

CUT TO:

6.    INT.  THE PIT – Day 7.  1000

FINESSE, CHRONAL and FAUNA are sitting on the sofas.  COOL BOX is tied to a wooden chair, soaking wet.

FINESSE
Okay, guys.  We’re fighting Bestia.

CHRONAL
I really don’t want to fight Bestia.

FAUNA
She is evil.

CHRONAL
No, hang on – I don’t like the word evil.  Nobody’s beyond redemption.  There’s a good side to everyone.

FAUNA
I am the good side.

FINESSE
Good point.

CHRONAL
Okay, so she’s not a full human being.  So we get you two reunited as soon as possible, and then we recover the glory that is Shift of the Scribblers.

FAUNA
She won’t come willingly.

FINESSE
I’ll make her.

FAUNA
Remember that she knows you as well as Shift does.

FINESSE
Oh, yes – a very good and terrifying point.

COOL BOX
You have to stop him.

CHRONAL
Him?  Cool Box, if you’re not going to listen, you don’t get to talk.

COOL BOX
No, listen to me – I’m in constant battle to try and keep mys- to keep Cool Box good.

FINESSE
What an awful job you do.

COOL BOX
Okay, fine, but right now, the other side of him is on the loose.  He has no remorse, no empathy.  Nothing to hold him back.

CHRONAL
Yeah, that’s chilling, I’m sure, but I’m going to focus on taking down the EVIL SCRIBBLER if that’s alright by you.

AMITY enters.

AMITY
Okay, we’ve contacted everyone we can.  Cool Box ... um, the other Cool Box was found by the police, so he’s in his cell.  Apparently, he gave them no trouble at all.

Cool Box looks disappointed.

AMITY
No sign of Bestia, and I’m not picking her up.  So I think we’re going to have to do something drastic.

FINESSE
Alright.  Any ideas?

AMITY
You’re not going to like it.

FINESSE
What is it?

AMITY
No, really.  You’re going to hate it.  You’ll say no.  Feel free to say no.  If you really –

FINESSE
Amity!

AMITY
Oh, right.  Well – have you heard of a man named Peter Copland?

CUT TO:

7.  INT.  LA BATTE’S – Day 7.  1015

The restaurant is nearly empty – just LA BATTE himself cleaning glasses behind the bar.

BESTIA swaggers in.

LA BATTE
Ah, Shift!  My goodness me, what an honour!

BESTIA
Bring me the food.

LA BATTE
Ah, but madame!  I do not start serving until eleven.  If you would like a drink while you wait ...

BESTIA
I want the soup and the steak and ice cream and cake.

LA BATTE
Well.  For one of the Scribblers, I can make an exception, of course.

CUT TO:

8.    EXT.  THE SIDE-STOREYS – Day 7.  1200

A large block of offices – orange bricks with faded green painted panels.  Dirty windows, patches of grass overgrowing with weeds, a car park full of old, battered cars.  FINESSE, LYRIC, FAUNA and COOL BOX standing outside.

FAUNA
They call these the side-storeys.  I used to – Shift used to go there.

FINESSE
What on earth for?

FAUNA
These are the forgotten departments of governance.  There are some social work groups here.

FINESSE
This is the social work place?  God, Shift said the place was run down.

COOL BOX
And they dare to say the public sector is efficient.

FINESSE
One more comment like that, and I’m telling Chronal.

Cool Box looks scared.

FINESSE (to Lyric)
Chronal overheard him saying the trains were more reliable since they were privatised.

LYRIC
Ye gods.  I’m surprised you still have your eyebrows, Boxy.

COOL BOX
He wouldn’t let me talk.

FINESSE
He looked up charts.

FAUNA
Chronal’s Bestia must be terrifying.

LYRIC
Not everyone has a Bestia, you know.

COOL BOX
I have a Bestia.

FINESSE
You have a Worstia.  Well!  Shall we meet our Mr Copland?

CUT TO:

9.    INT.  BARBARA’S ROOM – Day 7.  1205

As seen in The Final Flight of Damien the Impossible, PETER COPLAND is at the bank of computers, gently adjusting switches and dials.

FINESSE, LYRIC, FAUNA and COOL BOX enter.

FINESSE
Hello – Mr Copland?

Copland turns around.

COPLAND
Oh, hello Miss Finesse –

FINESSE
No, don’t do that.

COPLAND
Sorry.  Ms Finesse?

Finesse walks towards the computers.

FINESSE
Now, this is quite a thing ...

COPLAND
Oh ho ho, hang on now – don’t get too close, if you don’t mind.

FINESSE
What’s this?

She lifts a small sliding panel on the computer bank –

Copland looks horrified –

And Finesse reaches a hand inside –

Removing a small ruby, like the one seen in The Crater.

FINESSE
Oh, I don’t like you having this.

COPLAND (scared)
Put that back!  Barbara needs it!

FINESSE
Barbara?

FAUNA
It’s what he calls his machine.

FINESSE
And you called it Barbara?  Rubbish name.

COPLAND
It was the name of my wife, I’ll have you know.

FINESSE
Oh, dear me, Mr Copland – you haven’t built yourself a wife machine, have you?  That never ends well.

LYRIC
Hang on – how do you know about the machine, Shi- Fauna?

FAUNA
Shift was involved in the testing process.

COPLAND
Yes.  Turned the entire building into a giant lizard monster.  Look, if you could just give me the gem now ...

FINESSE
I remember that.  She never said.  How much stuff does Shift not bother reporting, exactly?

FAUNA
Trust me, my friend – I am wise.  I know when not to bother you.

FINESSE
Maybe.  But this isn’t right.

She holds up the ruby.

FINESSE
It channels people’s powers, right?  You enter the machine, the ruby converts your abilities, the machine amplifies it.  Which is ... how Dreamwave kept the population entranced during the Overload incident.

COPLAND
Yes, so you understand how vital it is that I get that gem back ...

FINESSE
But it does more than that.  It stores the powers.  It keeps them.

She closes her eyes –

Lifts the ruby to her right eye –

Inhales deeply.

COPLAND
No, no, it doesn’t do anything like that.

FINESSE
I can feel them, you idiot.  Oh, hello.  You’ve been busy, haven’t you?  Yep, there’s Shift, and there’s ... that must be Dreamwave.  And, oh, there’s Wildfire ... Post-Man ... Lawyer Girl ... Toxic?  Villains too, that’s not good.  Urania, Peggington, Dark Hand, Dreadful Greta ...

COPLAND
I didn’t know.

FAUNA
He tells the truth.

FINESSE
I’m sure he does.  You don’t know what you’re doing here, do you Copland?

She opens her eyes.

Holds her hand open flat, palm up, with the ruby in the middle.

The sound of rushing air.

FINESSE
Empty now.

COPLAND
Barbara!

FINESSE
Think of it as cleaning the hard drive before PC World find your dirty secrets.

LYRIC
By “PC World”, she means us.  And by “find your dirty secrets”, she means ...

FAUNA
Give you such a ding about the ear.

Finesse grins fondly at Fauna.

Fauna smiles weakly.

FINESSE
Right.  Move over, Copland – I’m getting my best friend back.

CUT TO:

9.    EXT/INT.  TRANS-JET – Day 7.  1210

AMITY at the steering wheel, with WRAITH and CHRONAL present.

CHRONAL
What’s next on the List Of Dangerous Places Shift’s Allowed Into?

AMITY
Don’t call it that.  It should have a cool codename.

WRAITH
Metal Gear.

AMITY
No, that’s what you called our last secret thing.  Anyway, the only place left is Gaolhouse Rock, and I’ve sent them early warning to look out for Cool Box’s helicopter.

WRAITH
Then we can take a break for lunch!

AMITY
No we can not.  Now we’re waiting to hear back from Finesse.

WRAITH
Lunch.  The first casualty of superhero missions.

CUT TO:

11.    INT.  BARBARA’S ROOM – Day 7.  1215

Continued from Scene 9.  Close-up on a green glass sphere in Finesse’s hand, the same size as the ruby.  It wibbles as Lyric whispers softly to it.

Lyric stops talking –

And the sphere becomes stable.

FINESSE
Alright.  This’ll be good for one use in Barbara, and it won’t do any creepy power stealing.

She turns towards the computers –

Lifts the small hatch –

And inserts the sphere.

FINESSE
Alright, Fauna, you guard Copland.

COPLAND
I beg your pardon?

FINESSE
I’m not having you anywhere near me.

COPLAND
I wouldn’t dream of interfering with the Scribblers!

FINESSE
Yeah, but you’re weird.  Remind me to tell you about the creepy wife mushroom story I read once.

Finesse climbs into Barbara –

Lyric straps her arms in –

And her legs –

And flips a switch.

Sudden zoom out –

CUT TO:

12.    EXT.  DINAS – Day 7.  1216

An aerial view of the city.

It fades to monochrome –

And around the side-storeys, small lights appear in different colours –

And then in a wider radius –

Spreading outwards –

Until the city’s covered in lights.

One turquoise light glows stronger than the others –

Sudden zoom towards it –

Zooming in –

CUT TO:

13.    EXT.  OUTSIDE LA BATTE’S – Day 7.  1216

Monochrome shot of La Batte’s, its windows lit in turquoise.

CUT TO:

14.    INT.  BARBARA’S ROOM – Day 7.  1216

Continued from Scene 11.  Crash-zoom on Finesse’s face.

FINESSE
She’s in La Batte’s.

Lyric on the communicator.

LYRIC
Get to La Batte’s, guys.  We’re on our way.

CUT TO:

15.    EXT/INT.  TRANS-JET – Day 7.  1217

Continued from Scene 9.

AMITY
Okay, we’re going to La Batte’s.

WRAITH
Yay!

AMITY
Not to eat.

CUT TO:

16.  INT.  LA BATTE’S – Day 7.  1225

BESTIA on a table by herself, surrounded by a mountain of food and a pile of empty plates.  She’s currently dipping chips in ice-cream.

BESTIA
We like this a lot.  The food I’ve been denied.  Maybe my wolf would like some.

She transforms into a ferocious-looking WOLF with glowing red eyes.

The wolf knocks some of the food aside with its snout –

Hunting through the dishes –

Finds a huge rump steak –

And starts eating ravenously.

It looks up.

Long shot: AMITY and WRAITH have arrived.

The wolf jumps –

Over the table –

Runs towards them –

Jumps for Amity –

And freezes in mid-air.

CHRONAL fades into view.

CHRONAL
My, haven’t we gone soft?  Shift would’ve seen right through that ploy.

AMITY
Would we call that a ploy?

CHRONAL
I think it was rather ploy-esque, yes.

WRAITH
Okay, I’ll call Finesse.  I don’t like this wolf.

AMITY
It is not a good wolf.

BANG!  Chronal is hit from behind –

The wolf becomes an enormous black HORSE, over twenty hands, with iron hooves –

And gallops out of the restaurant.

Chronal looks around.

Behind him is LA BATTE.

LA BATTE
She said you’d come.  I know you are not the real Scribblers.

AMITY
Hey, hang on, surely –

La Batte shoots Amity with a dart.

AMITY
Wh-  La Batte!  Honestly!

WRAITH
Yeah, dude.  We’re fo’ reals.  She was the one being strange.

La Batte kicks out –

Winding Wraith –

As Chronal aims his hands towards La Batte –

Who super-jumps into the air –

Avoiding Chronal’s time-blast.

AMITY
I feel weird.

Amity’s POV: the world out of focus and swaying.

Amity’s POV: La Batte clinging to the ceiling.

Amity tries to aim at La Batte –

But is swaying too much from dizziness.

La Batte lands behind Chronal –

Chronal vanishes –

La Batte ducks –

Then hops –

Then springs back towards the ceiling.

CHRONAL
Good reflexes.  Um, but we’re just going to leave.

He’s kicked in the head by La Batte’s leg –

Which freezes.

CHRONAL
Gotcha.
(to Amity)
Are you alright?

AMITY
Yeah.  Chemicals affecting my mind?  I’m totally on it.

CHRONAL
Then I’m super-speeding away.

He becomes a blur through the door.

La Batte lands gracefully –

And Amity grabs his hand.

LA BATTE
Ahh ...  Oh, what am I doing?  I beg your forgiveness.

WRAITH
Vouchers!

CUT TO:

17.    INT.  BARBARA’S ROOM – Day 7.  1245

LYRIC, FAUNA and COOL BOX present.  FINESSE is now out of Barbara.  COPLAND is examining the green sphere – it now looks as though it contains black smoke.

COPLAND
Your understanding of the ruby must be phenomenal.

FINESSE
Yes, I’m quite clever.

LYRIC
Getting a message from Chronal.  He’s tracked Bestia down.

FINESSE
Isn’t that what I just did?

LYRIC
Oh, sorry, you were in the machine when it happened – she got away.

FAUNA
She would.

LYRIC
And then La Batte attacked the others, and –

FINESSE
The other what?

LYRIC
The other Scribblers.

FINESSE
What?!

LYRIC
Anyway, Chronal found her.

FINESSE
And where is she?

CUT TO:

18.    EXT.  THE MONASTERY – Day 7.  1246

The Monastery, frozen in time.  CHRONAL walking towards it.  Speaking on communicator.

CHRONAL
She’s in the Monastery.
(beat)
She became an evil magpie.
(beat)
Because it had an evil face.
(beat)
Red eyes and sharp teeth and frowny eyebrows.
(beat)
I’m on my way – slowly, because I’m trying to keep the whole place frozen at once.

CUT TO:

19.    INT.  BARBARA’S ROOM – Day 7.  1247

Continued from Scene 17.

FINESSE
Good boy.  See you soon!

She disconnects the communicator.

Turns to Copland.

FINESSE
Now.  I’m giving you the ruby back, because government property et cetera, but the second I’m done fixing my friend, I’m coming straight back here and finding out exactly who decided to copy people’s powers without permission.

COPLAND
I don’t know ...

FINESSE
I know you don’t know.  But whoever signs your pay cheques, you’d better warn them.  The Scribblers are coming.  And they’re extremely annoyed.

She turns –

And marches out of the room.

Lyric prods Cool Box –

And they follow, with Fauna.

Copland returns to Barbara.

COPLAND
I’m so sorry.  What did she do to you?  I’ll make it all alright.  I just can’t do it without the powers.  Hold tight, dearest.

He pulls a phone from his suit pocket – an old-fashioned black brick.

He dials a number, eleven digits.

COPLAND
Hello?  Mr Oswald.
(beat)
It’s Peter Copland.  I need a fresh copy of my powers.
(beat)
Yes, and – you might be in trouble.

CUT TO:

20.    INT.  MONASTERY – MAIN HALL – Day 7.  1250

CHRONAL enters through the main doors.

CHRONAL
I should’ve guessed you’d be here to greet me.

Reveal RHIAN waiting with her TEDDY BEAR.

RHIAN
I am glad it is you.

CHRONAL
Remind me to teach you apostrophes later.

RHIAN
Did you get my last e-mail?

CHRONAL
Yes, damn, sorry – meant to reply, but then Laser Face attacked the Pit.  Anyway -

RHIAN
You are going to say you need to find Shift, but Mirage is keeping her distracted.

CHRONAL
You worked out she’s in evil mode, then?

RHIAN
Apex can feel her powers.  She says they are incomplete.
(beat)
Teddy will not be able to help you this time.  Please be careful, Chronal.

Chronal gives her an absent-minded hug –

Then heads deeper into the school.

CUT TO:

21.    INT.  MONASTERY – PASSAGEWAY – Day 7.  1251

BESTIA and FINESSE are staring each other down.  There are two stacks of chairs at the side.

BESTIA
You were already here?
(beat)
Why won’t you talk to me?
(beat)
Because I know you too well.  I can beat you.
(beat)
No.  You’re not here, are you?

Bestia punches Finesse –

And her hand passes straight through her.

BESTIA
I cannot be fooled for long.  Speaking of which – let’s have a word with the headmaster.

She becomes a WASP –

And flies out of the passageway.

One stack of chair fades and becomes MIRAGE.

The other transforms into HAUNTER.

MIRAGE
Mind control, do you think?

HAUNTER
If so, maybe Back-Up can restore the old Shift.

CUT TO:

22.    INT.  MONASTERY – HEADMASTER’S OFFICE – Day 7.  1255

THE MONK is sitting at his desk.

BESTIA enters.

The Monk looks up lazily.

BESTIA
I know your secret.

The Monk puts his pen down.

Stands.

BESTIA
Did she ever tell you about me?  Oh, you must know everything.  I’m her instinct.

Pause.

The Monk opens a drawer.

Removes a blank piece of card.

Writes on it.

Slides it over.

Bestia lifts it.

“SHIFT’S?  OR FINESSE’S?”

BESTIA
You disappoint me.  Both.  I know everything.  How awful for you.

The Monk retrieves another piece of card.

Writes.

Slides.

Bestia lifts it.

“TELL ME ABOUT THE TARTAROMACHY.”

Bestia raises her eyebrows.

BESTIA
Oh, you’ve noticed, have you?  The rest haven’t.  They don’t listen to instinct.
(beat)
Niobe has taken the first shot.  Sintaro is weakened.  One of them ordered the attack on the Monastery.  A statement – to prove they could.  That was probably Sintaro.  They’ll fight to the end now.

Another card.

Writes.

Slides.

Bestia lifts it.

“WHOM DO YOU FAVOUR?”

BESTIA
As if you don’t know.

She grins.

BESTIA
I favour the winner.

The Monk tilts his head.

BESTIA
I favour Niobe.

CUT TO:

23.    INT.  PRISON CELL – Day 7.  1300

COOL BOX sitting in prison.  A plate of food in front of him, which he is picking apart to tiny pieces with his hands.

The door opens.

FINESSE enters with the SECOND COOL BOX.

FINESSE
Alright, let’s see if this works.

SECOND COOL BOX
No, you can’t, don’t make me go back –

Finesse shoves the second Cool Box –

Into the original Cool Box –

And they’re both engulfed by an orange light.

The light fades –

And only one Cool Box remains.

FINESSE
Thank God for that.

She activates her communicator.

FINESSE
Lyric, it’s Finesse.  When they touch, they reunite.  I’m on my way.

COOL BOX
Scribbler!  Now that I am restored, I challenge you to –

FINESSE
Quiet.  We have no time for you.

Finesse leaves –

Slamming the cell door shut.

Cool Box looks sad.

CUT TO:

24.    INT.  MONASTERY - REFECTORY - Day 7.  1310

BACK-UP and APEX have blocked off one of the two entrances.

BESTIA enters through the other.

BESTIA
The young are in my way.  And the big bad wolf is coming.

Besita starts transforming into the WOLF –

BACK-UP holds up a hand –

And Bestia freezes midtransformation.  She is now PART-WOLF.

BACK-UP
What the -  I didn’t do that!  Who did that?

APEX
Who do you think?

CHRONAL enters.

CHRONAL
Right, stop!  Back-Up, isn’t it?  Don’t use your powers on my friend.  Um, half my friend.  My, um, entire friend needs her to live, you see.

BACK-UP
Ooh, okay.  I’m sorry!  Should have thought this through.

CHRONAL
Yes, well, there’s quite a list of things you lot should be thinking through.  Mind-wiping criminals on the side?

BACK-UP
That’s rehab!

CHRONAL
That’s perverting the course of justice.  Yuk, sorry, I hate it when superheroes use the word “justice”.

APEX
Is she safe like that?

CHRONAL
Bestia?  For now.  It’s taking it out of me, though.  I hope my mates arrive soon.

APEX
I can make it easier for you.

Apex takes Chronal’s hand –

There’s a flash of green –

And Chronal jumps.

CHRONAL
Wow, what was that?

APEX
Just what I do – made it easier for you to use your powers.

CHRONAL
It’s like ... you’ve taken away the friction.  Ooh, this is like super-strength!  I’ve got the whole school frozen.

CUT TO:

24A.    INT.  MONASTERY - REFECTORY - Day 7.  1400

CHRONAL, APEX and BACK-UP have been joined by MIRAGE, ZHOU, DEATH QUOTE and RHIAN.  They’re sitting around a table chatting.  The PART-WOLF BESTIA is still frozen in the background.

CHRONAL
... and then Wraith scared the living daylights out of him by pointing out that he could sneak up on him at any time.

DEATH QUOTE
Ooh, that’s good.

CHRONAL
He can be proper sinister when he tries.

BACK-UP
Can you tell us about the time you took down the Fishers Of Men in Newcastle?

CHRONAL
God, no.  I hated the Fishers Of Men.  Best not to encourage them by mentioning them ever.  That’d just give them ideas above their station.

APEX
Okay, tell us about the time Litter Bug teamed up with Dark Hand.

CHRONAL
Haha!  That was painful.  Amity had just come back from holiday, and –

FINESSE, LYRIC and FAUNA enter.

Finesse spots Bestia.

FINESSE
Oh, brilliant.  Good work – one hundred husband points.

CHRONAL
Couldn’t have done it without the kids.

FINESSE
They can’t have husband points.

LYRIC
Alright, Fauna – touch yourself.

FAUNA
It’s funny because there are teenagers here but Lyric is being filthy.

She approaches Bestia –

Reaches out her hand –

And touches her.

Nothing happens.

LYRIC
That should have worked.  Maybe she needs to be unfrozen?

CHRONAL
Alright, but if she does any mauling, I’m refreezing her.

Bestia moves –

And turns her head slowly –

To look at Finesse.

BESTIA
Oh, hello.  You’d better not touch me.

FINESSE
I don’t need to touch you.

BESTIA
Fine, do what you like.  Hey, the Monk’s looking well, isn’t he?

Finesse frowns.

BESTIA
I had a good chat with him – he’s quite the talker when he’s scared.

Mirage and Back-Up exchange a glance.

BESTIA
He hides it well, but if there’s one thing I can always spot, it’s fear.  Stay out of this.  Old friend.

She transforms –

Becoming a monstrous HORSE with BEAR ARMS growing out of its sides.

Fauna transforms into an albino SNAKE, elegant and pretty.

The snake wraps around the horse’s hind leg –

Which grows –

Becoming an ELEPHANT’S LEG.

The snake transforms again –

Into a white MOUSE –

Which climbs along the leg –

Getting onto the horse’s back –

Aiming for the head.

A LUMP grows out of the horse’s back, ahead of the mouse –

And transforms into BESTIA’S HEAD.

BESTIA
Hey, now, little mouse.

The mouse transforms into FAUNA, now mounting the horse as though riding it.

FAUNA
I’m touching her!  Why isn’t this working?

BESTIA
Well, while I’ve got your attention – there’s something I’m dying to ask you.

FAUNA
We need to be one person.  You can’t live like this.

BESTIA
The Monk asked me something terribly intriguing.  So, Fauna, dearest.  Whom do you favour?

FAUNA
Are you resisting?  But Cool Box was resisting, and he’s back in one piece.

BESTIA
You don’t pay attention, do you?  You have no idea what I’m talking about.  Sintaro and Niobe.  The war’s started.  Whom do you favour?

FAUNA
As if you don’t know.

Bestia looks angry.

BESTIA
I never know what you think.

FAUNA
I favour the loser.

BESTIA
My opposite?

FAUNA
I favour Sintaro.

BESTIA
You favour the weak?

FAUNA
Of course I do.  I can beat the weak.

BESTIA
You are weak.

FAUNA
I was never the weak one.

Fauna transforms into a DOVE –

And digs her talons into the horse’s back.

The horse struggles –

But the tiny dove has it trapped.

The bear arms wither –

As though the muscles are decaying.

The horse loses weight rapidly.

Bestia’s face becomes distorted.

She looks to Finesse.

BESTIA
She’s killing me.

Finesse approaches the two.

BESTIA
Save me.

FINESSE
I always will.

Finesse places one hand on the horse –

The other on the dove –

And they simultaneously transform –

Back into FAUNA and BESTIA, the latter in the former’s hands.

As soon as the transformation ends, they’re engulfed in an orange light –

And as the light fades, SHIFT remains.

CUT TO:

25.    INT.  THE PIT - Day 7.  1600

CHRONAL, AMITY, LYRIC and WRAITH are playing Dinas Monopoly.  FINESSE and SHIFT can be seen on the balcony.

WRAITH
I love hotels so much, I’m going to put a hotel on my hotel.

AMITY
You can’t do that!

LYRIC
Anyway, how much do I owe you?

CHRONAL
Um, seven hundred.  More if you want a turn-down service.

LYRIC
How much is the turn-down service?

CHRONAL
Four thousand.  I’m trying to discourage it.

Amity looks towards the balcony.

AMITY
Are they alright, do you think?

CHRONAL
They’ll be fine.  It’s a best friend thing.  Shift will feel guilty for a bit, but then she’ll save Finesse’s life next week and she’ll be back to normal.

CUT TO:

26.    EXT.  PIT BALCONY - Day 7.  1601

FINESSE and SHIFT surveying the land.

SHIFT
Thank you for saving my life.  Again.

FINESSE
It’s not one-way, is it?  Turns out you know all my secrets.

SHIFT
Really?  I can’t really remember today.  It’s like a dream.  I can remember some images, but they don’t make sense.

FINESSE
Well, Bestia broke your silence.  She said you know all about the Monk.

Shift smiles.

SHIFT
No.  Bestia knows all about the Monk.  That’s my subconscious.  I can’t do anything about that, but I’m deliberately not poking.  I respect your privacy.  I know you respect mine.

FINESSE
Okay, you get four thousand best friend points, and you don’t get to feel guilty about Bestia.

A nice moment.  They could hug, but they don’t because they is like soldiers innit.

FINESSE
Anyway!  I’ve got a loose end to tie up.  Are you going to be alright?

SHIFT
Yeah.  The Auditor’s ordering Chinese tonight, so I’m taking the rest of the day off.

FINESSE
Don’t blame you.  Enjoy!

SHIFT
I’ll try, but I don’t feel that hungry.  Any idea what that’s about?

FINESSE
Oh, we’ll probably need to apologise to La Batte at some point.

CUT TO:

27.    INT.  OSWALD’S OFFICE - Day 7.  1730

A small office, with a window offering a view of a large, grey, anonymous city.  Large desk covered in paperwork and an old-fashioned PC.  Behind this is MR OSWALD (50s, cultured, sinister).

FINESSE enters.

FINESSE
Mr Oswald.  You’re not an easy man to find.

OSWALD
I’ve been called elusive.

FINESSE
No, I mean, this is the worst office ever isn’t it?

Oswald looks angry.

FINESSE
D’you know, it’s funny.  Reception didn’t even know your name, Oswald.

OSWALD (threatening)
You are talking to a Member of Parliament.

Finesse steps towards him.  When she talks, she’s equally threatening.

FINESSE
You have set up an operation in my city, Oswald.  I am the leader of the Scribblers.  Don’t you DARE try and pull rank.

She grabs the top piece of paper from his desk.

Oswald tries to snatch it back –

Misses.

Finesse scans it.

Replaces it.

FINESSE
Tell me exactly – exactly – what you think you’re doing funding Project Barbara.

OSWALD
That machine has already saved countless lives.

FINESSE
Oswald, I don’t mind that you think I’m so busy I won’t notice you sneaking this thing into my home under my nose.  But do not think I’m stupid.  Your tiny constituency’s not seeing any benefit at all from that machine, is it?

OSWALD
Are you threatening me, Finesse?

FINESSE
Yes.  I am absolutely and completely threatening you, Mr Oswald.  You and the rest of your party.  Watch your backs.  The Scribblers are coming.

OSWALD
We won’t stand for this.

FINESSE
I’m sure you won’t.  See you soon, Mr Oswald.  Give my regards to the rest of the SPP.

CUT TO:

28.    INT.  AUDITOR’S FLAT – Night 7.  2000

A neat flat, lots of books and DVDs.  A table covered in empty takeaway boxes and empty wine bottles.  SHIFT and THE AUDITOR in a serious conversation.

AUDITOR
And it’s been happening ever since?

SHIFT
Yes.  I don’t know what to do.

AUDITOR
Show me.

Shift holds up her arm –

Which transforms into a BEAR ARM –

And splits into TWO BEAR ARMS.

SHIFT
Do you think it’s permanent ...?

THE END

Saturday 11 August 2012

Scribblers: Lyric Makes A Thing

Scribblers
"Lyric Makes A Thing"

by Steffan Alun

1. INT. THE PIT - Day. 0900

AMITY and SHIFT are reading aloud from scripts.

AMITY
I just don't understand how you could do this, Tony. It stands for everything you hate.

SHIFT
It is because I'm not Tony - I am EVIL TRANSFORMER MAN! Prepare to meet your doom, Lisa!

AMITY
Shift! Stop making up lines!

LYRIC enters.

LYRIC
Guys, I made a thing! Look!

He holds up a metallic face mask.

SHIFT
Ooh, Lyric made a horrible sex toy.

AMITY
Ha! I mean, sorry Lyric. What did you make?

LYRIC
This device will revolutionise all our lives.

SHIFT
It IS a sex toy!

LYRIC
Look!

Lyric attackes the device to his face.

Presses a switch.

It hums gently.

When Lyric speaks, his voice sounds robotic.


LYRIC (robotic)
Hear my words.

AMITY
You've made a voice changer thing! Um, yay?

SHIFT
My life feels pretty revolutionised right now.

Lyric removes the device.

LYRIC
No! You control it with your brain, and it speaks for you.

SHIFT
That's how my mouth works.

LYRIC
Yeah, but I was thinking we could make one each for Amalgam's animals, and then -

AMITY
Amalgam can already talk.

LYRIC
Yeah, but then his animals can talk, and ...

AMITY
He IS his animals. They're one being.

LYRIC
You're going to have to explain this again.

SHIFT
I'll get Chronal's diagrams.

THE END

Friday 10 August 2012

The Road to Doctor Who

The BBC presents:
"THE ROAD TO DOCTOR WHO"
by Steffan Alun

1.  EXT.  TV TOWERS - Day 1.  0800

Establishing shot - an impossibly tall skyscraper reaches far into the
red sky, beyond the green clouds.

CUT TO:

2.  INT.  PLOTS AND PLANS OFFICE - Day 1.  0800

BEVERLY KNIGHT (50s, stern, six foot six) is at her desk, writing.
Opposite her sits JEFF PAULSON (18, pimply, uncertain).

Knight finishes writing and puts down her pen.

KNIGHT
Talk to me Paulson.  This had better be worth my time.

PAULSON
I done an idea, Ms Knight, and my friend Caitlin told me I should tell
you about it.

KNIGHT
Talk to me, Paulson!

PAULSON
Um, I am.  Okay, I want to do a science fiction where there are two
teachers and they travel in time.

KNIGHT
That sounds boring.

PAULSON
One is a sexy man one.

KNIGHT
Okay.

PAULSON
And there will be a spaceship and that's how they travel.

KNIGHT
Will there be aliens?

PAULSON
No, aliens are shit.  There will be an old man inventor who invented
the spaceship and he'll have an assistant like a magician.

KNIGHT
I like it.  So, where do they travel?

PAULSON
They can go somewhere different every week, probably starting in
dinosaur times and working their way forward through time, and it will
be realistic as fuck.

KNIGHT
Sounds expensive.

PAULSON
We can sell it to schools, though, and make money back, and we'll see
if Terry Nation will let us use the Daleks for it.

KNIGHT
Okay, but if he insists we use Davros, he can fuck right off.

CUT TO:

3.  EXT.  FILMING FIELD - Day 2.  1200

The field is set up for exterior filming.  A FILM CREW around the
place including director HARRIET FEATHERS (30s, short, short-haired,
short-tempered) and the actors JAMAICA JONES (20s, pretty, dirty
laugh) and JACK THE MAN (30s, sexy as fuck, charismatic).

FEATHERS
Alright, we're still rolling.

JAMAICA
Mr Peters!  Look over there!  It is an alien civilisation.

JACK
There's no such thing, Miss Winters.  It must be your imagination.

JAMAICA
I don't have an imagination, Mr Peters.  At least, not one good enough
to conjure up such images of majesty.

Shot of some upturned yoghurt pots.

JACK
We could go and check it out.

JAMAICA
Oh, but I'm scared.  What if we meet those cavemen again?

JACK
Doctor Who killed them all, remember?

JAMAICA
So he claims.  But can we really trust him?  I mean, who is he?  Doctor Who who?

FEATHERS
And cut!  Brilliant, guys, take a fag break.

CUT TO:

4.  INT.  BRITAIN'S TOY SHOP - Day 3.  0900

The shop is packed with SHOPPERS, pushing and shoving and shouting.

Owner FRANK SHOPSON (50s, quiet, dying) is talking on camera to
journalist MIA FACE (40s, alert, played by Nick Briggs).

SHOPSON
It's these new Doctor Who toys.  They've been flying off the shelf.
The talking Zomboid was miles more popular than expected - they flew
off the shelf - and the Trevor Baxendale books are flying off the
shelves.

MIA
It sounds like this new television TV show has been great for business.

SHOPSON
Oh, it's been smashing and a half.  I've been able to eat steak every
day this week, and steak's not cheap here in the 60s.

MIA
What's your next idea for toys?

SHOPSON
I don't make them.  But I think they should do a Doctor Who toy that
turns into a Cyberman because that would be a good plot twist for
children to do in their playing.

MIA
Sounds like you could be a writer for the good Doctor!

SHOPSON
Yes please.

CUT TO:

5.  EXT/INT.  WEMBLEY ARENA - Night 4.  2100

The arena is packed with PEOPLE.

WILLIAM "DOCTOR WHO" HARTNELL (50s, looks older than his years, wh-
look, he's William Hartnell, alright?  You know what he's like.
Y'know.  Like Richard Hurndall) walks onto the stage with a little mic
attached to his cheek.  The crowd goes wild.

HARTNELL
Who the man?

Cheers.

HARTNELL
Alright, you little scallywags.  Here is my announcement.  I will be
returning for two special stories in September the 6th.  And then ...
I will be stepping down as Doctor Who.

Cheers of dismay.

HARTNELL
But don't worry, because the moment has been prepared for.  I will be
replaced by a new man, who will be every bit as good as me.  And don't
tell him he's too young!  You'll get used to him.

CUT TO:

6.  INT.  TARDIS - Day 5.  1200

Footage from the show - WILLIAM HARTNELL travelling with BENJAMIN
(sailor) and POLLYMIN (sailor).

HARTNELL
Oh, that Silurian shot me right in the heart.

POLLYMIN
Heart?  How aren't you dead?

HARTNELL
Oh, well (a) I have two hearts and (b) I am dead.

Hartnell dies -

But transforms -

Into MATT SMITH.

SMITH
Legs!  I've still got legs!  Legs are cool.

BENJAMIN
What on earth?

SMITH
No!  WHO on GALLIFREY!

On-screen Caption:  THE END?

Thursday 2 August 2012

Cymru - Epilogue


So I wrote this last year for obvious reasons, but it was only ever supposed to be for my own amusement. However, I have recently noticed that I am one post away from beating Jom in the post count so AH HA HA HA! Beaten! Yes!!!

 *******

"But sire -"

"No, Watkins."

"It's most unbecoming!"

"I don't care."

"Not to mention illegal!"

"Then she'll say no," Gwilym said, rolling his eyes and trying to ignore the nerves. He clutched the papers in his hand tighter. "So this is an unnecessary level of worry from you, I think, and now I'd really like it if you'd go and be a clerk somewhere else for a bit."

There was a pause, the sort which suggested that if Watkins had been anyone else they'd have muttered something under their breath, but in Watkins' case meant a glare of icy disapproval at nothing so much as the ether. It wasn't hard to work out what he'd have been muttering, though. Watkins and Awen Did Not Get Along.

"Watkins," Gwilym repeated patiently, not slowing his stride. "Do go away, there's a good chap."

"If you're so certain she'll say no anyway, my lord, then why even ask?" Watkins said instead of going away. His voice had taken on a vaguely wheedling tone as he tried for Reason. "What purpose does this serve? My concern is for your reputation, and by extension -"

"Yes, yes, Aberystwyth's," Gwilym said wearily, approaching the door. It didn't help, of course, that the man was in many ways right, and there was no likely good end to this. "You're a credit to your role, Watkins, and the people rejoice in your concern. Please go and be concerned about something else, now. This conversation is over."

He used his best Final Tone for the last sentence, and pointedly knocked on the door at the same time, and one tactic or the other worked. Watkins seemed to deflate slightly, and took on an edge of weary resignation.

"Very well, sire," he said tonelessly, and disappeared into thin air with the ease of long practice. Maybe he was a spy, Gwylim reflected. Many were the times Awen had done that in reverse in his bedroom of an evening, invariably when she wasn't actually supposed to be in Aberystwyth but was Spying. Maybe Watkins actually worked for Awen these days. It would certainly explain his increasing despair over the last six months; although, admittedly, so would Gwilym's insistence on the implementation of progressive social policies and his insistence on inventing new banking schemes over breakfast, so -

"Come in," Awen's voice called through the door, in a tone that suggested she was fighting down a 'But this had better be important because there is already a chimp in my office' addendum. Gwilym grinned, endured the spike of adrenaline that seemed to make his heart try to crawl into his throat, and pushed open the door.

Somehow, he always managed to forget the full extent of how beautiful she was between seeing her. Even now, when there wasn't much of her face to see; she was sitting at her desk motionlessly, her forehead leaning heavily on one hand, leaving only the edge of one cheekbone and a closed eye visible before the curtain of deep auburn hair claimed the rest, and she didn't look up. Nonetheless, in Gwilym's head he saw a ray of sunlight illuminating her and happy woodland creatures gambolling playfully about her -

"Oh cool, it's you," Dylan said irreverently, looking up from his seat before the desk. Awen didn't even twitch, apparently trusting Dylan's opinion of the trustworthiness of whoever had just entered her office. "Well, anyway, then Saxon Man was all 'Hey, no woman tells us what to do, in spite of evidence!' and then Breguswid was all 'No? Well, you're wrong!' and then got all queenly in his face and that. And then -"

"You had better be able to remember the actual wording of that conversation when you write this up," Awen told the desk-top evenly. Gwilym smirked and quietly took a seat next to Dylan, resting the papers on his knee. Dylan stared pointedly at them, and waved a hand.

"Yes, yes," he said impatiently, transfixed upon the papers. "Anyway, then Saxon Man was all schooled, and everyone was like 'Ooh, owned!' and then Saxon Man stormed off home to get his mates on her. I threw a pebble at him. Ha!"

"Fine," Awen said wearily. "I'll look forward to Breguswid's complaint. It's become a fantastic Saxco-Celtic bonding exercise. How likely is this man to start an uprising?"

"Not very," Dylan sniffed. "'Cos he tried to rape a woman on the way home, but unfortunately for him it turned out to be Aerona. He's dead now."

"He's dead now?" Awen looked up finally, staring at Dylan, one eyebrow raised. "She actually killed him, not just - ?"

"Well, no, she didn't," Dylan grinned. "But they're becoming creditably anti-rape. Probs because it's a crime against women, and their women are stronger now, so they took over. I lol'd."

"And Aerona?"

"Oh, she's fine," Dylan snorted proudly. "I think she was mostly just astonished he tried. She broke his nose in three places! One punch!"

"Good," Awen smiled darkly. "Fine. Well done. Well, I want that report written up tonight, and if you groan, Dylan, if you groan, if you roll your eyes or if make any sort of remark beyond a polite 'Yes, Councillor,' I will demand it within the hour and send you to clean out Eifion's interrogation cells. Alone. Understand?"

"Yes, Councillor," Dylan said politely. Awen nodded.

"Good boy," she said, matter-of-factly. "Consider yourself peremptorily and supercilliously dismissed."

"I do," Dylan said morosely, and left. Awen sighed, and looked at Gwilym.

It was the tiniest, tiniest moment, so small he would literally have missed it if he'd blinked at the wrong moment; but he saw her soften as she registered him, saw the bloom of warmth and affection in her eyes, before the friendly professionalism reclaimed her manner. She smiled.

"Well, there's keen you are," she said mildly. "I didn't think Aberystwyth was coming until the day after tomorrow. Unless whoever made the diary got it wildly wrong, in which case I shall fire them forthwith."

"Well, we weren't going to," Gwilym shrugged. "But, you know, Watkins needs a regular change of scenary to keep him calm, or he starts chewing the furniture and becomes a drain on the budget. My desk only has three legs now. I've had to prop up my in-tray."

"Really?" Awen grinned. "You didn't think to prop up the desk instead?"

"Genius!" Gwilym said brightly, and she laughed. Unobtrusively, her foot found his beneath the desk. Neither acknowledged it. "Well, I shall rearrange the room directly upon my return. I see you've finally learned to control Dylan, by the way?"

"Yes, well," Awen said darkly. "The trick with him is to actually follow through on your threats. Then he learns. And he has a unique hatred of cleaning out prisoner cells, so it only took around fourteen incidents before he got the message. I don't think Madog has ever been more gleeful."

"I'll bet." Gwilym grinned, and leaned forward to place the papers on the desk. "I got you something, by the way."

"Oh?" The automatic interest in the Shiny New Things sprang forth in Awen's eyes, and his desire to hold her intensified abruptly, as it always did. She plucked them from the desk. "What is it?"

"Music!" Gwilym beamed. "We had Important Greek Types come visiting, and they brought a bard, so I thought I'd rob him of his culture and knowledge while I had the chance. Any good to you?"

"Sovereign," Awen said quietly. Her smile shone as she looked over the notes, her fingers clearly itching for harp strings, and as she looked up at him he read her expression and jumped in first.

"It's only music," he shrugged casually. "And some of it's for funerals, anyway, so it's less romantic than you might think."

"Thank you," Awen said calmly, and Gwilym resisted the urge to jump across the desk and hug her. The number of 'I don't deserve you' moments hadn't dropped in six months, but she'd become far better at getting a grip on herself from his tacit rebukes when they happened. She regarded the music lovingly for a moment more, and then put it to one side, linking her fingers beneath her chin and looking at him seriously. "Well, then, Sovereign, how can I help you?"

There was a pause.

"Help me?" Gwilym asked blankly.

"What is it you want?" Awen said patiently. "Why have you come to see me? What service or good can I provide you with that you need or desire?"

"Awen!" Gwilym said, indignantly. "I love you and wanted to see you! And I frequently come and see you with no reason in mind!"

"Well, yes," Awen said reasonably. "But not this time. This music has been tightly clutched for a while, your knock was nervous and you keep tapping your fingers against the arm of the chair. There's something you've been wanting to ask me since you stepped into this office. I'm trained to be able to tell, you know. So what is it?"

"I love you," Gwilym sighed, dreamily. Awen sniffed.

"You love my training," she declared. "You unnatural freak. Well?"

"It's the Greek influence," Gwilym said, and suddenly the nerves sprang into full force, making him twist his hands, his mouth dry. She wouldn't be happy, Watkins was right. She wouldn't be happy, and couldn't agree anyway, and the Council would be bloody furious, but bugger, she was watching him steadily with those eyes and now he'd have to say, but -

And oh, screw it. Out with it, Gwilym.

"I want to get married," he announced, heart hammering, and sat back for her inevitable reaction.

"You want to get what?" Awen asked blankly, one eyebrow raised. "Is this some sinister foreign practice?"

Which, come to think of it, had been an inevitable first reaction. But the second was definitely coming. Trouble was, having worked up the courage to just throw himself off the social cliff only to find himself on a ledge a foot below the edge, he was now going to have to summon the same courage again. This was really Awen's department.

"Yes!" Gwilym grinned almost manically, stalling unashamedly. His heartbeat was causing mild bruising to his rib cage, he was sure of it. "It involves three babies and a pint of lamb's blood. No; it's what they do - well, actually in most other cultures - to cement a relationship. Er... forever. It usually affects legal status too -"

"Forever?"

There we go. Awen stared at him, eyes wide. Well, she hadn't stabbed him yet, that was a good sign. Gwilym plowed on.

"Yes!" he said brightly, almost shaking with the force of his heartbeat. "And then it makes children born legitimate, although that wouldn't apply to us, and it gives the equivalent of consort status, although obviously that wouldn't either. But I want to marry you, and I want you to be my wife, and I want to be your husband."

"All these new words," Awen said, fascinated. "Can we go back to the forever part?"

"I love you," Gwilym said, firmly, and leaned forward to the desk himself. Encouragingly, she didn't lean away. He caught one braid in his fist and held it between them, the silver bead glinting in the lamp-light. "I love you, Awen, and we both know your feelings. And I love you more every time I even think about you, much less actually see you. And I want this to be permanent."

She stared at the bead for a moment, the wheels turning behind her eyes.

"You're the one who will want to leave," she said after a moment, looking back up again. She sounded vaguely glazed. "You'd be trapping yourself. You do know that?"

"That's your opinion," Gwilym said, rolling his eyes. Somehow, the comforting familiarity of the lines was helping to calm him down again. "You know I disagree."

"But..." Awen stared at him, and then blinked. "Okay. Let's be logical. It couldn't possibly be allowed."

"Yes it could," Gwilym said, folding his arms. "Because, you see, I've thought it all through, and really it wouldn't change anything, because it's a foreign custom that we'd adapt to fit. It just means they can't take you away from me. Which they wouldn't have done anyway."

"Well, then, what's the point?" Awen asked, bewildered. "If it doesn't change anything -"

"Because it means something," Gwilym interrupted, and it seemed they were both slightly taken aback by his sudden intensity. "Because I love you. Because it's a full ceremony in which I get to declare, publically, how much you mean to me and how much I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and since those aren't necessarily the words we'd have to say it's the only public forum that you could do the same in, Awen. It makes things official without actually making them official, you see? And I want it to be official just how much I love you."

He sat back slowly, and twiddled his thumbs. Awen watched him, her beautiful face unreadable.

"If you want to, anyway," he shrugged casually, and she snorted. "It takes two, like."

"You're a dangerous man, Sovereign," she said, shaking her head and pulling a clean sheet of paper from a draw. "I do believe you could charm rain into falling upwards and mountains into lying down. You have no idea how much of my spare time is devoted to hoping you aren't an evil genius. You know you'll have to convince the Full Council?"

"I'll have to convince Rhydian and Gwenllian," Gwilym corrected. Suddenly his heart was racing again, hope spiking inside him. He leaned forward. "They can convince the others. Is that a yes? Will you marry me?"

"We'll see," Awen said, a dry half-smile pulling at her mouth for a moment. "So, details? What happens in a... ?"

"Wedding," Gwilym provided excitedly. "Well! You dress up all posh, and get your mates to, and they have special roles -"

"Such as?"

She was writing it down, Gwilym realised, the thrill of joy jolting him from head to toe. Good gods. He hadn't thought he'd get nearly this far. His fingers had gone numb.

"Well, you're the bride," he enthused. "And you get attendants, usually people who can help you get dressed and do make-up and not forget things, and one of them is your bestest mate in charge of the others. And then I'm the groom, and I get a best mate to boss the guests about -"

"Guests?" Awen asked warily, and Gwilym beamed.

"I did say public!" he said happily. "Although you have as many as you like. Anyway, my best mate also has to provide the rings, or the rope to go around the fire pit or whatever. You can have as many roles as you want, though. Normally your parents play a role, but that'll be tricky for both of us. And then there's a priest of your chosen religion and they join you together in the eyes of your chosen deity, and then there's some sort of circular symbol like rings or walking around a pit of fire holding a rope or some such, to symbolise your lives together and that, and then they pronounce you married and people laugh and are joyous and cry with happiness. And then you all go and have a party to celebrate, during which you throw flowers at people, and if they catch them they'll get married next because of, um, mystic forces, I think. Not sure. Oh, and lots of cultures bake, like, special wedding bread. And loads try to ward against evil spirits. You have to obey luck-based superstitions, although you're a Rider, so you already do anyway."

She really did. He'd never seen anyone hate magpies quite as venomously as Awen.

"Okay," Awen said thoughtfully. She continued scribbling for a few moments - in short-hand, Gwilym noted, so he had no idea what it said or whether she'd just repeated the sentence 'You are an idiot' or not - and then paused, looking it over. Gwilym twiddled his thumbs.

"Right," she said decisively, and pulled out a notebook, making new lists. "Well, then. We'll need to design an appropriately religious ceremony of some kind, and that's probably best done with some druids to avoid heresy - is Rhiannon okay for a deity? I'm dedicated to her, so I think I'd need permission from her anyway. Also the Great Shrine could make for a lovely venue. As long as that's allowed. Or would you want Aberystwyth?"

He nearly - nearly - got up and danced. It was a close thing.

"Rhiannon would be perfect," Gwilym said quietly around the sudden lump in his throat, his grin threatening to swallow his face whole. There was a pricking sensation in his eyes, too, but he was not going to cry... "As would the Great Shrine, because the first wedding on Cymric soil should definitely take place in the eighth wonder of the world, and... I love you so much. Are you sure? You want to -?"

"Sovereign," Awen said flatly, not even looking up. "Of my greatest, dearest desires in life, making you happy counts in the top three, maybe even the top two, rivalled only by my love for my country, and if this peculiar foreign custom is what you want, then it is what you shall have. To the tiniest detail. Including, and I say this with the gravest of seriousness, if I have to set baskets of burning onions amongst the guests to ensure sufficient weeping."

In spite of the emotion, he burst out laughing.

"Oh, what have I unleashed upon the world?" Gwilym giggled. "A Rider planning an event. With military precision. I don't think this was ever meant to happen. This is going to be the best wedding ever."

"That's the aim," Awen said unconcernedly. "Now, will hair beads be acceptable? They're sort of circular. Although the fire sounds fun."

"Hair beads will be perfect," Gwilym said, his mind starting to move. "We could have both! It's our wedding. Although the druids may not be happy with us setting fire to the Great Shrine."

"The pool in there is circular," Awen said thoughtfully. "And water is spiritually significant to us anyway as well as fire, so that might work... we'll run it by them. What do we wear? Any special garments required?"

"Usually, your best clothes," Gwilym shrugged. "Although most cultures want the bride in red for some reason.  Or some other colour."

"Can't I wear a uniform?" Awen shifted uneasily. "There are really formal ones. High collars and everything."

"If you want," Gwilym said gently, and leaned forward to catch her beads again. "I want you to be happy with all of this too, you know. It's your wedding day as much as it is mine."

"But you want a wedding," Awen sighed. "I feel it should be a special occasion, shouldn't it? A unique event. Everything should be different from normal. I think that includes dressing up, doesn't it?"

"Only if you want to," Gwilym repeated. "Really, Awen, turn up in a sack and a tea cosy if you like. As long as you're there I'll be happy."

"I own some fine tea cosies," she grinned, and then tore off the top page of the notebook, setting it to one side. "And you should see my fine collection of vintage Wars-time butter sacks. Oh, I'll clearly leave that to the others. What do I know about dressing myself? And on the subject of that, can I have the whole Wing to attend my whims?"

"Of course you can," Gwilym snorted. "They're perfect choices, one and all, and they already come with people who are in charge of them. And it doesn't have to be one," he added as she opened her mouth. "You can stick with Adara and Llŷr. It'll all add to the military precision, anyway."

"Yes it will," Awen said smugly, scribbling again. "Fine. Who are you having? How many do you get, anyway?"

"As many as I want, really," Gwilym mused. "A bestest mate, and then people to boss the guests about. Probably Lorcan for my bestest mate, and then I think I've run out of people I know, because Watkins isn't allowed or I'll scream. And Mental Uncle Dara would cause chaos."

"You can have some of mine if you like," Awen said thoughtfully. "At least one will need the job of keeping His Gracious Majesty away from the sharp pointy things, anyway. Caradog could do that. Or you could ask Madog, maybe, although in that case you'd probably also need Dylan."

"That's a good idea," Gwilym marvelled. "He's far more likely to behave when watched by Riders. I might stand Alaw near him, too, she's scary."

Awen snorted, since she was afraid of nothing. Gwilym didn't. He was afraid of Alaw.

"Right," she said, double-checking her shorthand. "You said... ah. Parents?"

"We could dispense with that." Gwilym shrugged. "They usually represent, like, giving the kids to make a new family sort-of-thing, which wouldn't really be appropriate for us anyway, because culturally we don't have concepts of familial ownership in this country -"

"You'll find I'm very much owned by mine," Awen murmured, amused, as though the fact that she was basically a slave was a hilarious oversight on his part. "But the very suggestion would get this vetoed by every Rider in the country, since it would be treason. And I don't have parents anyway. Rhydian probably comes closest, and I don't see him agreeing."

"No," Gwilym said, and shuddered. "It would have to be Mental Uncle Dara and Aunt Clíodhna for me anyway. Let's pretend this part was never suggested."

Awen smirked, because she was afraid of nothing. Gwilym didn't. He was afraid of Clíodhna.

"Fine," she said, starting a new list with business-like efficiency. "The party? Does this mean a feast of some kind? Special decorations? Cake? Music?"

"There should be music throughout all of this," Gwilym said decisively. "And all of -"

The door swung open without so much as a knock, and extremely unusually and suspiciously, without Awen jumping at all. Her expression merely switched to 'drier than deserts'. Gwilym turned.

"Right," Rhydian said irritably, slamming the door shut and marching to the chair Dylan had vacated. "This will be fun. Who'd like to start?"

There was a pause, as everyone looked at Gwilym, except for Gwilym, who looked confused.

"Sorry," he said after a moment. "Do you already know - ?"

"He's a spy, Sovereign," Awen said mildly, still writing. "Of course he knows. He probably knows your arguments too."

"Yes!" Rhydian snapped. "Yes, I do! Do you realise how difficult you make my life every time you do this, Sovereign?"

"Er..."

"He means Lady Marged," Awen supplied serenely. Rhydian threw his hands into the air.

"Of course I do!" he said, despairingly. "Which is mostly your fault, Awen, so stop acting innocent and start apologising! Now!"

"Sorry, Councillor."

"No you're not!"

"I'm really lost," Gwilym told anyone listening. "I wonder what Marged has to do with this."

"She keeps using us as a precedent," Awen said and looked up at last. "For their relationship. Every time you escalate us she tries the same thing. But in this case she can't, Councillor, because she doesn't know politically sensitive information that we want to keep her quiet about. There's no permanence to you two anyway."

"And how do you propose I explain that to her?" Rhydian asked, his eyes narrowed. "Given that she can't even know that there's something to know? Why do you both persist in complicating an already extremely complicated situation?"

"Well," Gwilym offered, but was cut off.

"And you," Rhydian remarked narrowly, turning to him, "are pushing your bloody luck, Sovereign. What's the next plan? Ask for children and I will punch you myself."

"Why is everyone so obsessed with me breeding?" Gwilym asked wearily. "I just want to marry her, Councillor."

"We'll invite you if you like," Awen said cheerfully, making a new list. Rhydian threw her a Look.

"You'd damn well better," he said darkly. "And I'd better be in a front row seat. Is Gwenllian coming?"

Gwilym blinked. Had it just been approved?

"Of course she is," Awen said, sounding vaguely offended. "What do you take me for? And she'll be sitting next to you. We'll have to invite the whole Full Council anyway. They'll say no, otherwise, although I realise Eifion will regardless."

"He's not coming," Gwilym said abruptly, and got two raised eyebrows, one from each Rider. "I mean it. That man is coming nowhere near my wedding."

"Sovereign," Awen said gently. "If we're inviting -"

"I don't care."

"Do you realise what - ?"

"I don't care," Gwilym ground out, and Rhydian fell silent, watching him with faint amazement. "I literally do not care what extenuating circumstances or anything else you suggest to me. On the day we get married, I am not having as a guest the man who tortured my wife for all of her formative years, and then seized every opportunity to do so for the rest of her life as well. And enjoyed it."

Awen sighed, and made a note. Rhydian rubbed his eyes.

"That won't be fun to explain," he muttered. "I'll get Gwen to do it. She's immune to him, because she doesn't care about his opinion. Give me three weeks, both of you?"

"For what?" Gwilym asked blankly, and Rhydian fixed him with the most authoritarian look Gwilym had received since being eight. His hind-brain begged to obey.

"Before you tell anyone," Rhydian ordered. "Or start actually arranging anything, or getting excited, or anything else. That's how long I'll need to get it approved, at the very earliest. Do not cross me on this."

"That will give us ample time to pick tablecloths and a menu," Awen said brightly. "And decide who has to sit next to Dylan. I think Maelon, since he'd be angry anyway."

"Can't we tell the Wing?" Gwilym asked, disappointed. "I really wanted them to know. I think Llio could be good for brainstorming. I don't want to brainstorm with Watkins."

"You can pick three of them," Rhydian said sternly. "And when I say three, I mean whichever three will keep it to themselves, so if you tell that large fellow I will smack you both upside the head and become your most vocal opponent, understand?"

"Yes, Councillor," Awen said obediently. "I shall tell Adara, Llŷr and Llio."

"Excellent choices!" Gwilym said, perking up again. It was all going like a dream. He'd been so sure Awen would deny him outright, and he'd expected a far longer and more extended conversation with Rhydian before being given a firm 'no' anyway. Really, he was going to have to find out which god it was that loved him so much and include them in the wedding. "And we need to pick a colour scheme. And I wonder if we can get lemons?"

"I'll ask Hannibal," Awen said absently. "I think the first harvests have been gathered in Celtiberia, so there's a chance. I like venison."

She really did, too. That had been an excellent discovery. Gwilym grinned.

"Venison main course," he agreed. "I like green. Can there be green?"

"Of course," Awen said, starting a new page. "Llio will murder you if you only give her one colour to play with, mind. Can - ?"

She paused, probably to wrap her head around the idea that she might have some say in her own wedding day.

"I like kingfishers," Awen offered cautiously. "Green, blue and orange?"

"Perfect!" He just caught himself before he clapped his hands like a six-year-old, although the look on Rhydian's face said quite plainly that he nonetheless hadn't gotten away with it. "I mean... yes. In a demure way. Where do we have the party, anyway?"

"Logically, in the Grand Hall," Rhydian said pensively. "Although it's more of an auditorium. You're going to need to invite a lot of people, though. I'm not sure they'd all fit in the Dining Hall."

"The Grand Hall could probably be converted temporarily," Awen mused. "We'll ask carpenters. In three weeks' time," she added, rolling her eyes as Rhydian pointedly crossed his arms. "In three weeks' time, and certainly not before, or you'll tell us we can't do it. Does Gwenllian know yet, by the way?"

"No," Rhydian sighed, and stood. "But I'll tell her now, since I'll need her help, you pair of bastards. I've also silenced your clerk by the way, Sovereign."

Gwilym brightened. "Permanently?"

"No," Rhydian said. "Stop wishing death upon the man, it's un-Sovereignly. Councillor."

He Saluted to Awen and was gone. Gwilym threw his inhibitions away, and clapped his hands excitedly to Awen's wry smirk.

"I don't care!" he said happily. "I'm getting married! And I'm not inviting Watkins anyway!"

"Thank you," Awen told him, her voice odd, and he looked at her. She was watching him steadily, her eyes dark. "For Eifion. Even though that will now be fantastically awkward in every Council meeting for the rest of - well, his life, anyway, since I'm a good eighty years younger. I -"

"I love you," Gwilym said gently, and took her hand this time. She held his tightly. "And this is just about the only way I can stand between you both, but I intend to do so. He's coming nowhere near this."

"Thank you," Awen repeated, and then smiled her easy smile. "Anyway. Entertainment? So far we only have 'Lots of music' written down. Do you want your dancing ninjas?"

"Definitely!" Gwilym declared, releasing her hand and playing with her beads instead. "They do an excellent floor show, as long as no one gets too close. Ooh, can we have games?"

"I'll tell Aerona," Awen said.