CobraCommander:Ashes&Venom Season 2; Episode 2 – Mirage
FADE IN:
EXT. OCEAN REEF – UNDERWATER – DREAMLIKE
A kaleidoscope of fish flits through a vibrant coral reef, weaving through the swaying sea fans and delicate anemones. Sunlight filters down in piercing rays, creating a breathtaking, almost surreal tableau.
Our focus tightens on one fish in particular a majestic Emperor Angelfish, its electric blue and golden-yellow stripes shimmering as it moves effortlessly through the water. It glides past a school of smaller fish, then twists through a natural rock archway, its movements smooth, almost hypnotic.
But then… something off.
A garbled voice ripples through the water, barely audible, a fragmented sound like someone speaking through a radio submerged beneath the sea.
At first, it's just a murmur.
As the fish continues swimming, the voice grows louder, more distinct.
Ahint of frustration. A man’s voice. Wordshalf-drowned, unintelligible.
The Angelfish moves forward, unwittinglydrifting closer to an unseen barrier. The garbled voice intensifies an escalating tension in the tone until, suddenly THUD.
Thefish bumps into glass. It recoils slightly, confused. We pull back.
No reef. No endless ocean.
We’re inside an enormous, high-end aquarium a self-contained world within the walls of a lavish, overindulgent office.
The camera pulls further out, revealing a massive, custom-built tank embedded into the rich mahogany walls of RICHARD MONTGOMERY’S OFFICE.
The space drips with old money. Dark wood. Leather chairs that cost more than a working man’s yearly salary. A golden statue of Midas in all his four-legged glory sits prominently on a glass desk, catching the dim glow of recessed lighting.
INT.MONTGOMERY ESTATE–RICHARD'S OFFICE–NIGHT
The voice that was once garbled is now crystal clear.
RICHARD MONTGOMERY, in a silk robe that probably costs more than most people’s cars, paces like a caged animal, his cell phone pressed tightly to his ear. He is seething.
RICHARD
(into phone, barely restrained fury)
Wainwright, Idon’t give a damn about hangups! I want it moved! All of it!
A muffled, nervous voice on the other end stammers a response.
WAINWRIGHT (O.S.)
Sir, there are… restrictions. These kinds of transfers take time. There are legalities
Richard stops dead in his tracks. He exhales slowly through his nose, a dangerous, measured breath. He clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring. He presses a button on his phone.
A loud BEEP.
RICHARD(CONT’D)
You’re on speaker now. Say that again. Saythat again so I can hear just how useless an accountant you actually are.
A brief pause. Then
WAINWRIGHT (O.S.)
(nervously clearing throat)
I Ijust meant that… sir, moving that much moneyinto offshore holdings, especially with the kind of assets you’re talking about, it’s bound to raise some flags. There are, uh, regulations. Paper trails. Tax implications
Richard closes his eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose. His rage is absolute, but controlled.
RICHARD (straining forpatience) What do Ipay you for?
A pause. The accountant doesn’t answer. Richard opens his eyes, staring at his own reflection in the aquarium glass.
WAINWRIGHT (O.S.) (softly)
I Idon’t understand the rush. Your assets aren’t in danger. The Montgomery name
RICHARD (interrupting, darkly)
I am not losing another goddamn thing. Not one more thing.
The accountant hesitates. There’s a brief silence, then
WAINWRIGHT (O.S.) (unsteady)
Sir, forgive me for asking, but… what exactlyare we talking about here? That… that guyfrom the S-Mart? He’s he’s dead, isn’t he? (beat.)
What was his name again? Latta? Latti SMASH.
Richard slams his fist down on his desk, rattling the Midas statue. His voice is pure venom.
RICHARD (furious)
I don’t want to hear that name. Ever. Again.
The accountant goes dead silent.
Richard exhales, straightens his posture. He adjusts the sleeve of his robe, smoothing the fabric as if physically brushing away his anger.
RICHARD (CONT’D) (quiet, dangerous)
Just. Move. The money.
WAINWRIGHT (O.S.) (weakly)
I’ll see what I can do.
RICHARD
You’lldo exactlywhat I’m paying you for.
The call clicks off.
Silence.
Richard stares at his reflection in the glass of the aquarium. The Angelfish regal, effortless glides past his face. A king in his own kingdom. And yet his fingers drum restlesslyagainst the desk. His jaw clenches.
He is not in control.
EXT. LATTIMER HOME – NIGHT
A silent, suburban street. Dim streetlights cast faint glows onto a lonelyhouse at the end of the cul-de-sac. The Lattimer home stands dark. Lifeless.
A solitary figure approaches. We don’t see a face. Just a silhouette under a trench coat as it crosses the empty driveway.
POV SHOT:
A glovedhand reaches out, fingers hesitating over the doorknob.
A long pause.
Then the door creaks open.
INT.LATTIMER HOME – POV SHOT –
CONTINUOUS
The house isn’t wrecked. It isn’t vandalized. But it’s wrong. There’s no warmth, no sound. Just the subtle creak of floorboards as we step inside.
Then "Daddy!!"
Billy'svoice,pureandjoyful.
Laura’s laughter, welcoming.
Thehallwayflashes suddenlylit, alive, filled with warmth.
Billy rushes toward us, arms outstretched.
Laura stands at the kitchen doorway, smiling, apron dusted with flour.
LAURA (grinning)
It’s about time you get home.
The smell of dinner cooking. The flicker of a TV playing in the background. Everything is perfect.
Except We step past them.
Billy’s expression doesn’t change. Laura doesn’t react. Their smiles stayfrozen, unblinking.
We keep moving.
INT. KITCHEN – POV SHOT
– CONTINUOUS
Laura is somehow already here. Standing bythe stove, stirring a pot. She turns, smiling again, as if we’d just arrived.
LAURA (soft, inviting)
You can relax. You’ve been walking around that car lot in the hot sun all day…
The same inflection, the same warmth as before.
But we keep moving.
INT.
UPSTAIRS
HALLWAY – POV SHOT – CONTINUOUS
A shadowed hallway. The door to Billy’s room is slightly ajar. We peek inside.
Inside Billyis a babyagain. A tinyinfant, cooing from a crib bathed in moonlight. He giggles, reaching toward us.
But we don’t stop.
INT.MASTER BEDROOM – POV SHOT– CONTINUOUS
The bedroom is dimly lit, bathed in soft shadows. Laura stands near the bed. She’s in a silk nightie, delicate fabric catching the faint glow of the hallway light. She steps forward, slow and deliberate.
LAURA (soft,almostsoothing)
You look so tense…
Her hands reach out, as if to comfort us. But her smile doesn’t change. Her eyes don’t quite focus. She is here and not here.
We move past her.
Her hands hover in the air for a moment, frozen mid-reach. She does not turn to follow.
INT. BATHROOM – POV SHOT – CONTINUOUS
The door swings open fast. We rush inside. The mirror reflects nothing. The room feels too small, too suffocating.
The toilet lid flips up.
A retching sound.
We pull back
CUT TO THIRD PERSON:
Chris on his knees, trench coat draped around him. His hat has fallen to the floor. He grips the toilet, vomiting violently. His shoulders shake whether from exhaustion, grief, regret who knows?
The moment lingers. The house is silent again.
INT.LATTIMER HOME– REALITY SETS IN
Now, we see the house for what it really is.
• Bedroom closets left open. Empty hangers swing slightly.
• Unmade beds. Sheets in disarray, long abandoned.
• A thin layer of dust settling on furniture.
• In the kitchen an old, forgotten box of doughnuts. Stale. Expired.
It hasn’t been ransacked. It’s just been left behind.
Chris wipes his mouth, breathing heavily. His gaze drifts to the emptiness around him. The family we met a million years ago is gone. Only the ghosts remain.
EXT. MINDY'S BACKYARD – NIGHT
The air is thick with summer heat. A faint buzz of cicadas hums in the distance. A porch light casts a soft yellow glow over a wooden deck where LAURA and MINDY sit.
A box of Chardonnay sits between them, the spout already halfway drained. Mindy, one leg tucked under her, swirls her wine in her glass, watching Laura. Laura has barelytouched hers. There’s an uneasy silence.
MINDY
(flat, yet firm)
I’m glad that guyin the Hawaiian shirt came by.
Laura doesn't answer right away. She just stares at her untouched glass.
MINDY (CONT’D)
(taking a sip)
He laid it out plain, didn’t he? No more guessing. No more what-ifs. Chris is gone.
Laura finally exhales, shaking her head.
LAURA (low, distant)
Yeah.He’sgone.
Mindy sets her glass down, leaning forward.
MINDY
Then stop killing yourself over the hows and whys. What good is that gonna do? You’ve got Billy. That’s where your focus needs to be.
Laura closes her eyes for a moment, as if willing herself to absorb that truth.
Then SLAM.
The back door swings open. Billy storms outside, face twisted in frustration.
BILLY (marchingover)
Mommy!
Laura sits up, alarmed by the urgency in his voice.
LAURA
What is it, baby?
Billy crosses his arms, his little face red.
BILLY
Tommywon’tplaywithmeanymore.
Laura softens.
LAURA
Oh,sweetheart…maybehe’sjusttired.
Billy shakes his head, frustrated.
BILLY
No! He’s scared.
Laura and Mindy exchange a quick glance.
LAURA
Scared? Scared of what?
Billy’s bottom lip trembles, like he’s embarrassed to say it.
BILLY
Scared of Daddy.
A sharp silence. Laura’s stomach drops.
Mindysetsherwinedown. Her facehardens.
MINDY (quickly)
Billy, sweetheart, go tell Tommy I want to see him.
Billyhesitates,confused bythe sudden tension in the air.
BILLY
But
MINDY
(firm, but gentle)
Just go, baby. Tell him to come here.
Billypouts but listens. Heturns and trudges back inside.
The second he’s gone, Laura exhales, rubbing her face.
LAURA
God.What am Isupposed to tell him?
Mindy leans back, arms crossed.
MINDY
You tell him his dad was a complicated man who made bad choices and now he’s gone.
Laura lets out a dry, bitter laugh.
LAURA
Yeah, real comforting. Should Ithrow a funeral, too?
For the man who drained our accounts, left us penniless, stuck me with his debt? Do I print invitations for the service?
Mindydoesn’t say anything at first. Laura shakes her head, looking away.
LAURA (CONT’D)
Chrisdidn’t just disappear. He left us to rot.
A beat. Then
A soft knock at the screen door. It’s Tommy. He hesitates at the threshold. He’s got his hands stuffed in his pockets, like he’s trying to shrink himself down.
Mindy gestures for him to come forward.
MINDY
Come here, sweetheart.
Tommydrags his feet as he approaches, but he won’t look at Laura.
MINDY (CONT’D)
Ihear you don’twanna playwith Billyanymore.
Tommy shuffles.
TOMMY (mumbling)
Ididn’t say that.
Mindywaits,hereyes soft but expectant.
Tommy fidgets harder. Then
He blurts it out.
TOMMY
I just… I don’t want him here anymore.
Laurafreezes.Mindy’sfacebarelymoves.
MINDY
Tommy… what do you mean?
Tommy lifts his chin, braver now.
TOMMY
Thiswasourhouse. Before them. Me and you.
Laura stares at the ground. Tommy swallows, then glares.
TOMMY (CONT’D) And I want it back.
Laura’s lips part slightly, like she’s about to saysomething but she doesn’t. Mindysighs, running a hand over her face. She turns back to Laura.
MINDY
I’m sorry.
Laura shakes her head, letting out a hollow laugh.
LAURA No. He’s right.
Mindy’sbrowsfurrow.
MINDY
Laura
LAURA
What am I supposed to do?
Lauragesturesaroundthem.
LAURA (CONT’D)
I’m squatting in mybest friend’s house. Ican’t pay mymortgage. Billy’s clinging to a father who walked out on us like we were nothing.
She swipes at her eyes, suddenly angry.
LAURA (CONT’D)
And what kind of husband what kind of man does that?
A heavy silence settles over the porch. Mindy looks down at Tommy.
MINDY
Tommy… go back inside.
Tommydoesn’t argue. He slinks away, disappearing through the screen door.
Mindy turns back to Laura.
MINDY
Youdidn’tknowhim.
Laura’s brows knit.
MINDY (CONT’D) Not really.
Laura looks away. She doesn’t argue. Because deep down she knows it’s true.
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING – MORNING
A sleek silver BMW pulls up to a mid-rise office building in downtown Springville.
The camera pans up to a sign on the frosted glass door of a second-floor suite:
"H.
WAINWRIGHT & ASSOCIATES – PRIVATE FINANCIAL MANAGEMENT"
The driver's side door opens.
HUGH WAINWRIGHT, mid-50s, sharp suit, salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, steps out of the car with calculated efficiency. He adjusts his Rolex, juggles a leather briefcase, and holds his cell phone to his ear.
INT.OFFICE BUILDING –HALLWAY– CONTINUOUS
As Wainwright strides down the hallwaytoward his office, we onlyhear his side of the conversation.
HUGH WAINWRIGHT (smooth, professional)
Yes, I understand, but these funds aren’t subject to standard restrictions. Mr. Montgomery’s portfolio operates under (beat, mildlyannoyed) Ofcourse I’m acting on Mr. Montgomery’s behalf. I have full financial oversight. You know this.
He reaches his office door, expertlybalances the phone between his shoulder and ear while unlocking it.
INT.WAINWRIGHT’S OFFICE–CONTINUOUS
The office screams money.
• Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound financial texts.
• A modern, minimalist desk polished mahogany, a statement piece.
• A framed photo of Hugh shaking hands with Richard Montgomery hangs near the desk.
Wainwright walks in, tossing his briefcase onto the desk. Still on the phone, he sits, powering up his top-of-the-line desktop.
HUGH WAINWRIGHT
(into phone, with forced patience)
Yes, I’ll e-sign whatever’s needed. Just give me a moment to log in.
He swipes his mouse. The computer hums to life. He types his login credentials.
ACCESS DENIED.
CLOSE-UP: SCREEN DISPLAY
A red error message blinks.
"INCORRECT PASSWORD. PLEASE TRY AGAIN."
Wainwright frowns. He types the password again, slower.
ACCESS DENIED.
HUGHWAINWRIGHT
(into phone, distracted)
One moment.
Athirdattempt.
ACCESS DENIED.
A faint trace of irritation crosses his face. He straightens, trying to keep his voice steady.
HUGH WAINWRIGHT
(into phone, tersely)
I’m goingto havetocall you back.
He hangs up.
Tries again.
Same result. Realization sets in.
Wainwright leans back slowly. He clicks on the "Forgot Password?" prompt.
NEW SCREEN:
"This account is no longer active. Please contact your system administrator."
His jaw tightens. His eyes flick to his desk phone. He dials.
INTERCUT: PHONE CALL TO MONTGOMERY TRUST BANK
A polished, professional female voice answers on the other end.
BANK REP (O.S.)
Montgomery Trust, this is Megan. How may I assist you?
HUGH WAINWRIGHT (calm, controlled)
It appears my account access has been restricted. Must be a technical issue. Let’s get that resolved.
BANK REP (O.S.) (slight pause)
Alright, sir. May I have your identification number and department code?
HUGH WAINWRIGHT (sighs through his nose)
Wainwright. Hugh. Executive account oversight. Level Six. I don’t typically need to run through credentials this isn’t a help desk ticket.
BANK REP (O.S.)
Yes, sir. One moment while I pull up your profile.
A long pause. The clacking of keys on the other end. The faint hum of hold music threatening to kick in.
BANK REP (O.S.) (uncertain)
Um... Mr. Wainwright, I’m not seeing your access status under any active directories.
HUGH WAINWRIGHT (annoyed)
Well you’re obviously looking in the wrong place. Try again. Go under Legacy Oversight and pull up the 4400 series. You’ll see my clearance.
BANK REP (O.S.) (typing)
One moment...
Another pause. Longer this time.
BANK REP (O.S.) (slightly awkward)
I... do see your name. But it’s been flagged. Redacted, actually.
HUGH WAINWRIGHT (quietly furious)
Redacted?
BANK REP (O.S.)
I’m going to have to transfer you to internal security
HUGH WAINWRIGHT
You’ll do no such thing. You will explain right now what the hell this is.
BANK REP (O.S.)
(clears throat, tone shifting to professional but firm)
Mr. Wainwright, as of this morning, all financial oversight regarding Mr. Montgomery’s accounts has been reassigned. Your access has been terminated.
A beat.
Wainwright’s grip tightens on the receiver.
HUGH WAINWRIGHT
…Excuse me?
BANK REP (O.S.)
Authorization came directly from Mr. Montgomery’s office.
HUGH WAINWRIGHT (quiet, sharp)
By whose authority?
BANK REP (O.S.)
Mr. Montgomery’s.
Wainwright’s free hand clenches into a fist. His pulse ticks visibly in his jaw.
HUGH WAINWRIGHT
(slowly, evenly)
I want a direct line to Richard. Right now.
BANK REP (O.S.)
I’m afraid Mr. Montgomery is unavailable.
Wainwright laughs once dry, humorless.
HUGH WAINWRIGHT
(lowers voice, dark)
Let me make this clear. I have been handling Montgomery financial operations for twelve years. If someone thinks they can cut me out of
BANK REP (O.S.)
(interrupting, icy)
I’m sorry, sir. Your services are no longer required.
CLICK.
The line goes dead.
Wainwright slowly sets the phone down. He sits very still, staring at the screen. His hand twitches once. Then, finally
HUGH WAINWRIGHT (under his breath, seething)
Oh, you dirty son of a bitch.
EXT.OFFICE BUILDING – PARKINGLOT – CONTINUOUS
The camera slowlypulls back, drifting out of Wainwright’s office window, down past the sleek corporate lettering of “H. WAINWRIGHT & ASSOCIATES,” out into the still morning air of the parking lot.
A black sedan sits idling two spots awayfrom Wainwright’s BMW. Its tinted windows offer no view inside. But the driver’s hands gloved, steady grip the wheel.
A burner phone rests on the passenger seat. A single gloved hand reaches over, picks it up. The driver dials. The line connects.
UNKNOWN DRIVER (low,measured)
He’s here.
A pause. Something is said on the other end too faint to make out. The gloved hand grips the wheel tighter
UNKNOWN DRIVER (flat, irritated)
No, you fool. He just needs proper motivation.
Thedriver ends the call abruptly. A moment of stillness.
Then
The car pulls out, slow and deliberate, merging into the morning traffic. The camera lingers on the now-emptyspace before slowlytilting up, watching the black sedan disappear down the road.
INT. BLACK SEDAN – MOVING – CONTINUOUS
The driver remains unseen. We onlysee the hands. The gloved grip on the wheel. The phone is placed back onto the passenger seat.
Asteadyrhythm knuckles tapping against the leathersteering wheel.
A slow exhale.
Then, the car turns down a quiet road.
UNKNOWN DRIVER
(low, to himself)
I’ve got to pay someone a visit.
We still don’t see the face. But the voice is unmistakable. The car accelerates, vanishing down the stretch of road.
EXT.HIGHWAY – SOMEWHERE,USA – LATE AFTERNOON
A lone stretch of highway. The kind of place where nothing happens.
Until now.
In the distance, the thunder of motorcycles rumbles like an approaching storm.
Three bikes tear down the road, engines roaring, chrome flashing in the dying sunlight. It’s BUZZER, TORCH, and RIPPER the worst road trip companions imaginable.
Buzzer, up front, sunglasses low on his nose, grinning like he owns the damn highway.
Torch, on his right, chewing a matchstick, drumming his fingers on the handlebars.
Ripper, on the left, shaking a can of something questionable, waiting for the perfect moment to pop it open.
They blast past a road sign.
“SPRINGVILLE
– 80 MILES”
EXT. GAS STATION – MOMENTS LATER
A modern gas station, bright lights buzzing against the encroaching night. It’s clean, corporate, efficient.
Not for long.
The Dreadnoks pull in, engines snarling.
• Two trucks at the pumps.
• Adadwranglingkids intoanSUV. A trucker stretching his legs.
• A teenage cashier barely paying attention through the glass.
Then
The dad goes rigid. Ushering his kids into the car like he’s evacuating a war zone. The trucker eyes them cautiously.
Inside, the teen cashier finallylooks up from his phone. His face says it all: “Ah, hell.”
Buzzer kills his engine first.
BUZZER (grinning)
Alright, boys. Fill ‘erup and grab the essentials.
Torch and Ripper hop off, stretching.
INT. GAS STATION – MOMENTS LATER
The automatic doors slide open.
Inside, a handful of customers.
• Acouplepickingoutenergydrinks.
• A trucker grabbing a coffee.
• Theyall pause as theDreadnoks walk in.
Silence.
Then
The energydrink guysuddenlyremembers something VERY important outside.
The trucker abandons the coffee mission.
One by one, the customers slip out.
The clerk, mid-20s, pale, seen it all, barely looks up.
CLERK (flat, uninterested)
Gotta pump first, then pay.
Torch is already in the snack aisle.
Torch leans down. Eyes scanning the bottom shelf. Searching. Searching. His face darkens. He stands up slow.
TORCH (low, menacing)
Where the bloody hell are the chocolate doughnuts?
Buzzer and Ripper exchange glances. The clerk barely glances up.
CLERK (unbothered)
Sold out.
A long, heavy pause.
Torch leans forward.
TORCH
Oh, I’m sorry. You misunderstand me, mate.
I didn’t ask for a stock report. I asked where the hell are the chocolate doughnuts?
CLERK (beat, unimpressed)
And Itold ya. We don’t have any.
BUZZER (laughing)
Oh-ho-ho! I like this one. Got some spine!
Ripper wanders up, grabbing a beer from the fridge.
RIPPER (chewing gum)
Oi, mate, that’s a real bad way to speak to customers.
Torch slowlypicks up a powdered doughnut package. Looks at it. Then, crushes it in his fist. White powder rains onto the floor like snow.
Theclerkexhales,finallylookingup.
And that’s when they see it.
The shotgun behind the counter. Just barely visible. Buzzer notices too. And he grins.
BUZZER (soft, amused)
Uh-oh.Somebody’sthinkin’‘boutgettin’brave.
The clerk tenses.
Ripper leans in, smiling.
RIPPER (cheerful)
You go for that shotgun, mate… and we’re gonna have one hell of a mess.
Torch tilts his head, mock curiosity.
TORCH
(gesturing at the slushy machine)
How far you reckon blood sprays in a place like this?
Buzzer laughs, slamming his hand on the counter. The clerk doesn’t move. His breathing is tight.
He’s smart enough to know exactly how this goes. Buzzer leans in real close.
BUZZER (lowering voice)
What’s it gonna be, champ? You let us pay… or you let us play?
A long, horrible beat. Then the clerk swallows hard. And slowlystarts ringing them up.
Buzzer claps his hands.
BUZZER (grinning)
Smart lad.
EXT. GAS STATION – MOMENTS LATER
The Dreadnoks emerge, laughing. Ripper and Torch each carry a bag of snacks and beer. They stroll to their bikes, completely unbothered.
Ripper hops on first.
RIPPER (grinning)
Didn’tevenneedtohurthim!
Torch shrugs.
TORCH
(rippingopenapack of gummyworms) Bit disappointed, honestly.
Buzzer grins, adjusting his sunglasses.
BUZZER
Welp. Can’t win ‘em all.
They rev their engines. Torch twists the throttle, his bike roaring to life. Ripper tosses an empty beer can to the pavement. And then
BOOOOOOOOOOM.
The gas pumps ERUPT into a fireball. A shockwave blasts through the parking lot. A mushroom of flames and black smoke engulfs the station.
The Dreadnoks?
Alreadypeelingout onto the highway, laughinghysterically.
Torch whoops, raising a fist.
RIPPER
(yelling over the wind)
Ya didn’t have to do that!!
TORCH
(grinning,shrugging)
Couldn’t resist, mate!
Buzzer laughs, gunning the throttle.
BUZZER
Springville, here we come!
The camera holds on the burning gas station, an absolute inferno.
INT.MINDY'S HOUSE – KIDS’ BEDROOM – NIGHT
A quiet room.
Moonlight filters through the half-closed blinds, casting soft, uneven light over the two small beds.
One belongs to BILLY. The other to TOMMY. It’s a makeshift setup. A temporary home. There’s a small fan humming in the corner. A plastic dinosaur lies abandoned near Tommy’s pillow. A few cheap nightlights glow faintly, barely cutting into the darkness. The room is still. Peaceful.
Then A shift.
Abarely-thererustleofclothes.
A shadow moves.
We pan over, closer closer until we settle on BILLY’S SLEEPING FACE. Tiny, peaceful breaths. His eyelashes flicker slightly.
Then A hand.
A gloved hand, calloused, careful, gentlybrushes Billy’s cheek. A touch filled with longing. Regret. Something unspoken. We pull back.
CHRIS is there. Somehow. Standing at Billy’s bedside, watching him sleep.
Billy’s eyes flutter open. For a split second, confusion. Then recognition. And his entire face lights up.
BILLY (whispers,thrilled) Daddy!
Chris immediately presses a finger to his lips.
CHRIS (softly) Shhh.
Billy giggles softly, biting his lip to keep from making a sound. TOMMY shifts in his bed.
Chris freezes.
A beat.
Another.
Tommysnorts in his sleep, rolling over. Chris lowers his hand, satisfied.
Billy sits up slightly. Chris crouches down, eye level with him.
CHRIS (soft) Did you miss me?
Billy nods rapidly.
BILLY
Uh-huh! Iknew you’d come back!
Chris smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
CHRIS
Not yet, buddy. I’ve got some things to take careof first.
Billy’s smile falters slightly.
BILLY When?
Chris reaches out, tucking a straycurl behind Billy’s ear.
CHRIS
Soon. We’ll be together soon.
Billynods, trusting him completely. Chris reaches into his coat. Pulls out a small, plasticwrapped package. He hands it to Billy. Billy takes it, eyes widening.
The carded action figure gleams under the dim glow of the nightlight. A warrior clad in blue and silver, standing proudly behind the plastic casing.
“BATTLE CORPS” is emblazoned across the top in bold, military-style letters.
Billy runs his fingers over the packaging in awe.
BILLY (whispers)
Whoa…
Chris smiles.
CHRIS
Sawitandthoughtofyou.
Billy beams.
BILLY
Thank you, Daddy!
He looks back up
Chris is gone.
EXT. MINDY’S HOUSE – NIGHT
A quiet front yard.
The wind rustles through the trees. The black sedan sits idling at the curb. The driver’s side door opens.
Chris steps out of the shadows, slipping inside.
The engine rumbles softly. He shuts the door, exhales. The radio clicks on.
Stone Temple Pilots’ “Big Empty” comes through the speakers and overtakes the soundtrack as the car pulls away from the curb.
The camera holds as Chris drives off into the night. The song continues, haunting and heavy.
"Time to take a ride….it leaves today... no conversation..."
The taillights disappear into the distance.