21 posts in this topic

On 9/29/2018 at 2:35 PM, TwiLyghtSansSparkles said:

just like you wrote in this diaries of yours!

Should be "just like you wrote in these diaries of yours!"


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1 hour ago, Ark1002 said:

Should be "just like you wrote in these diaries of yours!"

Uh, thanks?


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The ending made me laugh so hard. It helps that like I can picture nearly every shot. The format is super funny, and the fault line stuff is hilarious.

I have only one problem. I want an episode 2


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4 hours ago, I think I am here. said:

This is the best thing I’ve ever seen

Thanks! :D 

21 minutes ago, Snipexe said:

The ending made me laugh so hard. It helps that like I can picture nearly every shot. The format is super funny, and the fault line stuff is hilarious.

I have only one problem. I want an episode 2

I…may or may not have some ideas for that, if enough people want it. :ph34r: 


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Yeah, I want it. This was great!


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Episode Two: Dumpster Diving




Open on a steel plate bearing the words 'HERE LIES FAULTLINE.' The camera zooms out and we see they are carved into a piece of scrap metal with an arrow drawn beneath, pointing to FAUTLINE'S corpse lying in the middle of the street. Cars navigate around it. A middle-aged man in slacks and button-down shirt stands on the sidewalk. His name is LEONARD. 

LEONARD: The overstreets got hit pretty hard. Couple blocks are just gone. Which is probably the best you can expect, when somebody like Faultline picks a fight with Steelheart. 

The camera pans over the nearby areas of the city, revealing several new holes in the skyline where buildings used to be, before cutting back to LEONARD. 

LEONARD: Fortunately, I don't work too close to government headquarters. Close enough, but we got the place evacuated in time, and it turned out we didn't need to, so now I've got to work an extra hour instead of going home tonight. He sighs. Mom's got to be worried sick….

The camera pans, once again, to the street where FAULTLINE'S body is, before moving back to LEONARD.

LEONARD: The body should be gone pretty quick. No, there's no cleanup crew or anything—even if there was, I'm pretty sure Steelheart would want to leave it out as long as possible. Send a message, you know? But no. Epic bodies do weird things when they decompose. She'll be out of the street pretty quick. 


Cut to the understreets. A woman with grey hair stands before an old playground, hands over her mouth. Her name is BOBBI.

BOBBI: He's okay? Leonard's okay? Pause. You're sure? You talked to him? Another pause before the tension leaves her frame, and tears fill her eyes. Oh thank God. Thank God. I was so worried—he was right there. Right on the overstreets. The understreets didn't get hit too bad, but up there? They always get it worse when two Epics go at it. 

As she speaks, people move about in the background. Most of them seem in a hurry to get where they need to go, none of them eager to spend much time out on the streets. One teenage boy in the distance freezes just within frame. 

BOBBI: Fortunately, things have been pretty stable for the past couple of years. Steelheart did that—I'm sure you know, but….well, it never hurts to say it. 

She gives a small and nervous laugh, her gaze wandering to the alley behind her. The teenager takes a few steps forward, partially hidden by people, but there aren't many places to hide and he is desperately looking for one. A knot of people walks past him, and when he is next visible, he is headfirst in a trashcan, feet in the air.

BOBBI: What the—did you—did he—I—I'm going to see if he's all right—hang on. 

The camera follows her to the trashcan.

BOBBI: Excuse me, young man? Are you okay? 

TEENAGER (cheerfully): I feel just like a bunch of water that got poured into a really dirty glass full of dead spiders! 

BOBBI frowns at the camera, then at the TEENAGER'S feet. 

BOBBI: Is…is that a….yes? 

TEENAGER: Yep! I'm a little dirty, but I'm fine!

BOBBI: Um, okay…I'll just help you out and—

TEENAGER: No! I mean—I'm fine. Nothing I haven't dealt with before. I'm good. 

BOBBI: You sure? 


BOBBI does not look convinced, but after a moment she shrugs and moves away from the trashcan. 


Palace exterior. STEELHEART stands with cape billowing about him, the winds preparing to lift him into the air. 

STEELHEART: As you already know, Fortuity makes a lot of movies, so I take a lot of BuzzFeed quizzes. 

We see the interior of the Reeve theater room, where STEELHEART and the rest of his government are watching FORTUITY'S latest film.

STEELHEART (voiceover): Most of them are….well, I'd say 'fine,' but a lot of them are actually pretty annoying. Yet I keep taking them. I mean, it's either that or watch Fortuity gargle beans again. 

In the theater, STEELHEART selects one of several options on his quiz. 

STEELHEART (voiceover): But then last night, I took one where you were supposed to pick some weird pizza toppings, and it'd tell you if you were secretly me. 

STEELHEART selects the final question on his quiz. The result appears on screen only a split-second before STEELHEART leaps to his feet. 


STEELHEART (voiceover): 'You are not Steelheart'! That's what it said! 

FORTUITY: Not the screen! 

STEELHEART throws the mobile across the room just as his palms begin to glow. An energy beam flies toward the back of the theater, destroying two chairs, but STEELHEART has already turned away. 

STEELHEART (voiceover): Can you believe that? take the quiz. answer with all the things would put on my pizza, and that sparking slontze says I'm not Steelheart

He fires two more energy beams, one of which burns a hole through the screen. FORTUITY cries out as though someone has put ketchup on his hot dog and runs toward the front of the theater. We see NIGHTWEILDER offer FAULTLINE some of his popcorn, which she accepts, seconds before a final energy beam flies too close to one of the cameras, and the operator flees. We cut back to STEELHEART in front of his palace, raking fingers through his hair. 

STEELHEART: Gah. Getting angry just thinking about it. 

The camera shakes and zooms out as the operator scrambles backward.

STEELHEART: That sparking quiz was made by someone using the handle InsulationIsMahBae. Her identity is known, of course, but….agh. I would've gone to her this morning, but then the Faultline thing happened, and….well. I'll just have to pay her a visit now.

He rises into the air and out of sight. 


Newcago's understreets. An Epic stands with arms folded, scowling at the camera. 

REFRACTIONARY: Yeah, Faultline's gone now. Has been for a while—good thing, too. Do you have any idea how hard it is to drive with a sparking body in the middle of the street? 

The camera pans over the street behind her, taking in the people going about their lives. No one seems interested in getting too close to REFRACTIONARY.

REFRACTIONARY: Look, we get it. It's a body, and it's in the road. That doesn't mean your sparking gas pedal doesn't work. 

Some distance back, a teenage boy walks along, sipping from a noodle bowl. He lowers it, looks up toward the camera, and freezes. 

REFRACTIONARY: Just go around, and for Calamity's sake, don't slow down or you will regret it.

The teenager glances behind him, turning his face away from the camera, as if debating whether or not to walk backward out of frame. 

REFRACTIONARY: Seriously, I got stuck behind this one slontze who slowed down for everything. He slowed down for the body. He slowed down for the people in the street. He slowed down for the sparking crosswalk! C'mon! I got places to go, people to see! You can guide your stupid kids across the street later! 

Before the camera can zoom in and get a good look at the teenager, he gulps the rest of his soup, then flips the bowl up on its side and holds it to his face, walking confidently in the same direction he had been going. 

REFRACTIONARY: This town. Calamity. I swear, nobody knows how to drive. 


Interior: an apartment in the less well-maintained area of the overstreets. A young woman stands inside. Her name is MICHELLE. 

MICHELLE: I like to make quizzes. Just silly ones, brighten somebody's day, you know? I mean, who doesn't want to know what kind of cheese they are? Cheese is nice. 

We see a shot of MICHELLE creating a quiz. 

MICHELLE: Sure, I go by a username, which I guess is kinda pointless since Steelheart knows who everyone is, but—

The door to her apartment breaks from its hinges with a deafening crack. There in the doorway, filing it, is STEELHEART.

STEELHEART: InsulationIsMahBae, you've got some explaining to do! 

MICHELLE blinks at him, at the door in his hand. 

STEELHEART: Well? Explain! 

She doesn't move or speak. She simply stares. STEELHEART tosses the door aside. 

STEELHEART: I grow tired of waiting, InsulationIsMahBae! 

MICHELLE: That….that username sounded a lot less embarrassing before you said it out loud. 


Back to the understreets. An older woman named ROSE sits on a steel bench, a bit of knitting in her lap. She knits as she speaks. 

 ROSE: Yeah, I knit most of the day. Sell what I make, or give it to some kid who needs it.  

The camera pans over the park. There aren't many children playing there, of course, but there are many other people. All of them seem to be older or middle-aged. No teenagers in sight. 

ROSE: I finished a sweater the other day. Not my best work, but it's been so hard to find good yarn. Who would've thought turning an entire sparking city to steel might've had some negative fallout? 

The camera pans back over the park, moving back toward Rose—and then stops. 

ROSE: Anyway, gave it to a girl I saw. Poor thing was shivering, had a coat two sizes too small. Pretty sure it's the one she had on Annexation Day. Looked old and ratty enough, but she's got a sweater now. 

The camera zips back, zooming in on a teenage boy who has bent over to pick something up off the ground.

ROSE: Anyway, it's not a lot of money, but every little bit helps. And, of course, this is pretty much what I did all day before Annexation, so it wasn't too much of a lifestyle change. 

As if sensing the camera, the teenager looks up; he casts a panicked glance back down at the ground before pulling his leather jacket up over his head. It appears not to have a hood; he pulls the jacket itself over his hair and face. 

ROSE: Now, I'm not complaining, but I have to ask—why were you so interested in my knitting anyway? 

The mysterious teenager runs off in the opposite direction, jacket stretched between his elbows like some kind of bat wings, concealing his identity from the cameras.

ROSE: It's just not something I thought your crew would be interested in.


Interior: an upscale restaurant. The chef stands awkwardly off to one side as MICHELLE spreads alfredo sauce over a circle of dough. STEELHEART leans against the counter, arms folded. 

MICHELLE (voiceover): So Steelheart said that because I obviously didn't know what kind of things he liked to put on his pizza, I'm going to learn. 

She places her hand over a bowl full of cooked shrimp, thinks better of it, and adds a thin layer of shredded mozzarella to the pizza.

MICHELLE (voiceover) It's really not that bad. I mean, I've never made pizza before, and I've never had pizza with shrimp on it, so, hey! New experience! 

STEELHEART: No peppers? 

MICHELLE: Oops! Sorry! 

She adds a few fajita peppers to the pizza. 

MICHELLE (voiceover): I mean, the other pizza, with peanut butter as the sauce was….not something I'd think to put on a pizza, but then again, I'm not Steelheart. 

MICHELLE places the shrimp pizza into the oven. 

MICHELLE (voiceover): I tried it, yeah. It…I mean, once you get past the feeling that you really need a glass of milk to wash it down, it's actually not half bad. 

We see the pizza coming out of the oven, the chef slicing it up, and STEELHEART and MICHELLE each taking a slice. STEELHEART watches her carefully as, bite by small bite, she finishes the slice and gives him a thumbs-up.

STEELHEART: Now do you see what Steelheart would actually put on his pizza? 

MICHELLE: Yes, sir. 

STEELHEART: And are you sorry for spreading those lies about me and what sort of pizza I want when I want a strange pizza? 

MICHELLE: Yes, sir. 

We see MICHELLE standing outside the kitchen, shrugging with a confused, somewhat desperate look on her face. 

MICHELLE: I mean, I guess so? 

Cut back to STEELHEART and MICHELLE in the kitchen.

STEELHEART: Good. Do something with these pizzas. 

MICHELLE: You don't want them?

STEELHEART: You made them. You decide what to do with them. 

STEELHEART leaves. MICHELLE looks directly into the camera, panic simmering in her eyes. The chef puts a hand on her shoulder. 

CHEF: Don't worry. I know lots of kids who'll eat anything. 


Outside the restaurant, in a back alley. The door is open; the chef is handing a box to a familiar-looking teenager in jeans and leather jacket. The door hides his face. When he takes the pizzas, for a moment it seems he might turn toward the camera; but then he turns in the opposite direction. The camera follows. He turns sharply down an alley; the camera crew nearly misses the turn but doubles back just in time to see him make another turn, and then another. He pulls something from his pocket that might be a bag; we can't tell in the inconsistent light. He turns again, doubles back and turns yet again, and again, and then disappears from sight. 

CAMERA OPERATOR: You kidding me? 

MICROPHONE OPERATOR: Kid's fast, I'll give you that. 

CAMERA OPERATOR: C'mon, kid, we just want to talk to—

A familiar figure is just barely visible for a second before the empty pizza box spins into frame, knocking the camera askew. There are shouts and swearing from the camera crew. A voice comes from a source the crew doesn't seem to see.

TEENAGER: Watching you guys try to catch me is like watching a manatee try to fry up a bunch of donuts. 

MICROPHONE OPERATOR: Is…was…wait, is that an insult? 

The teenager's voice is distant now, but still audible. 




Edited by TwiLyghtSansSparkles

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On 12/4/2018 at 11:13 PM, SandersonFanderson said:

Everything about this was fantastic

Thanks! ^_^ 

On 12/12/2018 at 4:48 PM, The Tenth Pancake said:

:DHahaha David. I loved the BuzzFeed quiz? 

Where's part 3? :lol:

I actually let this one take a backseat to a lot of things, though I had some ideas for part 3, if y'all are interested. 


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I can't even remember the last time I laughed this hard at a fanfiction. :D


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On 12/14/2018 at 0:36 PM, Kobold King said:

I can't even remember the last time I laughed this hard at a fanfiction. :D

Why thank you. *bows* :P 

Episode Three: First Day




EXTERIOR: Overstreets. An Enforcement officer stands, arms folded, surveying a pre-Calamity playground that is now completely steel and devoid of children. Her name is GOMEZ.

GOMEZ: As you can see, there was quite the battle here. 

The camera pans over the playground before swooping back, as if searching for the damage. GOMEZ signals the operator just as he begins to make another sweep, calling his attention to a slide. 

GOMEZ: Right here. 

The camera zooms in on her pointing finger, then zooms in yet again to reveal a dent in the steel near the top of the slide. It is deep, but somewhat small, clearly from a bullet.

GOMEZZ: An as-yet-unidentified citizen gained Epic powers this morning. We're unsure whether or not he gained powers here at the playground, or simply moved here to test said powers out. I believe the damage he inflicted is self-evident. 

The camera hovers on the dent for a moment before panning upward, then downward, searching for more. The operator turns on a flashlight and waves it over the slide, but the only additional dents are shallow and likely predate Calamity. When the camera at last pans back to GOMEZ, she holds her forehead in a gloved hand. 

GOMEZ: Look, Morrison was there. You want details, talk to him. Just….play it up when you talk about what that Epic did, okay? Act like he took down half an office building and ate a whole noodle cart or something. 


INTERIOR: Enforcement Headquarters. We find MORRISON seated in a chair at a steel table, filling out an electronic form on a tablet. His helmet is off and we see that he is quite young, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years old. In the next shot, he stands outside the same room he was just in, looking distinctly uncomfortable. 

MORRISON: I mean, it's just my first day out in the field, but I've already heard stories. New Epics go crazy. Cause a ton of damage, know just how to use their powers, won't stop until you're dead. When we've got an officer down, it's usually 'cause they went up against a new Epic before Steelheart or Nightweilder or somebody could get there. Or, you know. Crossed a department Epic. Or a government Epic. Or an Epic at the supermarket. We….lose a lot of guys to Epics. 

He looks down, realizes that he is hugging his helmet to his chest. With a sigh, he sets it on a nearby table. 

MORRISON: And, you know, I expected an interesting first day, but…not like this. 

We see surveillance footage from earlier that morning. The NEW EPIC runs into the park, pistol held in one hand. He fires a shot, which strikes nothing at all, despite the fact he is surrounded by dead trees and playground equipment. His second shot hits a slide, but his third hits nothing.

NEW EPIC: How d'ya like me NOW, you [bleep]s? 

MORRISON (voiceover): I'm still not sure how the sparks I took him down. 

On the surveillance footage, a single officer—MORRISON—breaks off from his core. A second and third follow before their Epic can react. 

MORRISON (voiceover): I mean, he's an Epic. I'm just a rookie. 

One of the other Enforcement officers overtakes the NEW EPIC in a few bounds, and another runs out in front of the NEW EPIC. About this time, MORRISON runs up behind.

NEW EPIC: [bleep]! 

MORRISON pauses a second or two before tapping the NEW EPIC on the shoulder. The NEW EPIC jumps, dropping his gun. One of the other officers snatches it up off the ground and tosses it to their core's Epic.

MORRISON (voiceover): Yeah….taking down a brand-new Epic? 

The NEW EPIC, realizing his gun is gone, whirls just in time to see the core's Epic tossing it and catching it again. 

NEW EPIC: Not fair! Give it back

Laughing, the core's Epic tosses it to MORRISON, who tosses it back to the core's Epic, beginning a group game of keep-away.

MORRISON (voiceover): Hardest thing I've ever done. 


INTERIOR: Some sort of holding cell. Unlike much of the city, this room is covered, from floor to ceiling, in concrete. The man at the center of it, however, appears pleasant—an older gentleman who speaks with a faint Indian accent. He is none other than CONFLUX. 

CONFLUX: Oh, no, don't be fooled by my humble abode. It's actually rather nice. Except for the Angry Dog Days, when Steelheart brings in a bunch of angry dogs? [laughs] I could do without those. 

We see a guard bringing in a tray, setting it down, and turning on his heel before he can see CONFLUX's cheery wave. 

CONFLUX (voiceover): I get lots of visits from my friends. And if it all gets to be too much, I can always go for a walk to clear my head. 

We see CONFLUX aggressively pacing from one end of his cell to the other. It's not a long walk. When we cut back to him in the present, he is beaming.

CONFLUX: But today has been a very good day. Do you want to know why? [He waits a beat; his smile falls a little.] No, I mean, I really want to know if you want to know or not. Because if you don't, I don't want to bother you—oh, you do? Okay. I'll tell you. 

He bends down and lifts something up until it is level with his grin. It's a cookie—a snickerdoodle, from the looks of it. 


INTERIOR: Government headquarters. NIGHTWEILDER stands outside a door. A wistful smile is on his shadowy face. 

NIGHTWEILDER: Ah, yes, I remember when I first got my powers. I began in London, Ontario. I remember that part very well—which is a little unusual, since everything else is a blur. The next thing I knew, I was belowdecks on a stolen yacht, surrounded by bodies. There were 472 pink Starburst beside me—don't ask me how I knew that because I didn't count them—and an empty flask that had at one point been filled with cheese soup. 

We see bodycam footage from the officer approaching the yacht. Subtitles read LAKE ERIE: CLEVELAND, OHIO. The officer approaches the yacht slowly, hesitates, and lifts the hatch. Tendrils of shadow waft out like smoke, one of them waving dangerously close to the officer's camera. 


The officer slams the hatch closed and jogs quickly away. We cut to NIGHTWEILDER in the present, who takes a sip from a flask that he straps back to his belt before opening the door and walking inside. The NEW EPIC slouches in a chair before at a steel table. 

NIGHTWEILDER (cheerfully): All right. Now that you have powers, you will work for Steelheart. 

NEW EPIC: And what if I don't want to?

NIGHTWEILDER (still cheerful): Then you will be torn in half on live television to serve as an example to your peers. Now. You must choose a name. 

The NEW EPIC seems to consider his options a moment.

NEW EPIC: Fine. I wanna be Steelheart too. 

NIGHTWEILDER hesitates, stylus poised over his tablet.

NIGHTWEILDER: I….you…there….there's already a Steelheart. 

NEW EPIC: Yeah, I know. That's why I wanna be Steelheart too. 

NIGHTWEILDER blinks. The NEW EPIC rolls his eyes. 

NEW EPIC: You write "Steelheart," okay? You put one of those little line thingies there, the kind that looks like an underline but there's nothing under it?

NIGHTWEILDER: An underscore? 

NEW EPIC: [smirks] Nerd. But yeah, an underscore. And then you put the number 2. Steelheart_2. 

NIGHTWEILDER is silent for almost a full minute. 

NIGHTWEILDER: I…that…that's not how this works….


INTERIOR: The area outside CONFLUX's holding cell/humble abode. A guard, whose name is POLLOCK, rummages frantically through his lunch bag. After a minute of fruitless searching (although his search does return an apple) he looks up at his colleagues. 

POLLOCK: All right, which one of you slontzes stole my cookie? 

The guards trade glances. The camera cuts to CONFLUX, who has heard the whole thing from inside his cell. 

CONFLUX: He left his lunch bag on the floor! What was I supposed to do? I was bored, I wanted to see what was inside, Steelheart doesn't bring me crossword puzzles or anything—not that I mind, he's a very busy man—but…really, who wouldn't have done what I did? 

A second guard, whose name is SANDERS, answers. 

SANDERS (off-camera): Look, man, we all know better than to go through somebody's lunch. 

CONFLUX: It…it's just one cookie. And I didn't take the rest of his lunch or anything. I didn't want him to go hungry. 

POLLOCK (off-camera): Seriously, what kind of slontze leaves a whole lunch and just takes the cookie?

CONFLUX looks to the camera. He bites his lip…and then pulls the remainder of POLLOCK's cookie from his pocket and takes a small bite.


INTERIOR: Government headquarters. NIGHTWEILDER is on his feet, pacing past the table where the NEW EPIC still sits, arms folded across his chest. 

NIGHTWEILDER: What about Crackshot? That's intimidating. It's snappy. You could be Crackshot. 

NEW EPIC: And have everyone calling me Crackpot? Yeah, no thanks. I'll stick with Steelheart_The_Epic. 

NIGHTWEILDER: There's already a Steelheart, and he is an Epic. He rules this city, and he will kill you if you tried to steal his name. 

NEW EPIC: Good thing I'm not stealing his name, then. 

For a long moment, NIGHTWEILDER simply stares. We cut to him standing outside the door. 

NIGHTWEILDER: Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill him right now. 

The NEW EPIC appears at the window in the door, standing close to the glass. 

NEW EPIC: Hey, Nightweilder! I got a new one! 

NIGHTWEILDER does not respond. He closes his eyes, clenches his fists, and draws a deep breath. 

NEW EPIC: Steelfart! Can I be Steelfart? 

NIGHTWEILDER: One….good….reason. 


INTERIOR: CONFLUX's cell. He sits in a corner, cradling the cookie in both hands. 

CONFLUX (voiceover): I know I need to tell him, but…how do you tell one of your own guards you stole his cookie? 

He raises the cookie to his lips and takes another small bite. 

CONFLUX (voiceover): I don't get cookies very often. I…I miss them. But having one around is dangerous. 

Footsteps sound on the floor. CONFLUX doesn't seem to hear. His entire focus in on the cookie, which he gazes at with a sorrowful expression. He doesn't see POLLOCK approach. 

POLLOCK: Whatcha got there? 

CONFLUX shoves the cookie into his mouth but doesn't chew it, gazing at POLLOCK with wide eyes. 

POLLOCK: Wait…was that my cookie? 


INTERIOR: STEELHEART's palace. STEELHEART is lying sideways across his throne, legs draped over one arm, mobile raised over his head. FORTUITY approaches; STEELHEART hangs his head upside down just long enough to see the precog, lets out a small groan, and goes back to swiping his finger across the screen. 

FORTUITY: You'll want to start heading toward government HQ. There's something you've got to see. 

STEELHEART: Save it for when I've beaten my high score. 

FORTUITY: It hasn't happened yet, but trust me, you'll want to be there when it does. 

STEELHEART rolls his eyes.

STEELHEART: You're the precog. Tell me what I'm gonna miss. Describe it for me. 

FORTUITY: I can't. It's too dumb. 

STEELHEART finally turns in his chair, staring at FORTUITY as if waiting for him to drop the ruse. He does not. 


INTERIOR: Government headquarters. NIGHTWEILDER stands at one side of the room, shadows swirling dangerously about him. The NEW EPIC stands behind the table, hands pressed against it, supporting his weight. 

NIGHTWEILDER: I am warning you—

NEW EPIC: No, I'm giving the warning! 

NIGHTWEILDER: I should kill you right now— 

NEW EPIC: I am an Epic

NIGHTWEILDER: A tiny, inconsequential, pitifully fragile—

NEW EPIC: And when you speak to me, you will address me by my name—

NIGHTWEILDER: I will not say that name, you cannot make me sully my lips with that name—

NIGHTWEILDER looks up as the door opens. The NEW EPIC has his back to it and does not see Steelheart walk through.

NEW EPIC: And my name is Steelheart_666_blazeit_YOLO!

NIGHTWEILDER does not answer, and for a few seconds the NEW EPIC gives him a victorious look. Then he follows NIGHTWEILDER's gaze, and sees STEELHEART staring right back at him. There is no anger in his expression—for now. He is too flabbergasted by what he's heard. 

STEELHEART: No, it's not. 

The entire room plunges into silence. The NEW EPIC stares at STEELHEART, blinking, not saying a word. 

NEW EPIC: Yes…yes sir. I mean, no sir. I mean….yeah. That. Not my name. [He gives an awkward double thumbs-up.] Cool. All cool. 


INTERIOR: Outside CONFLUX's cell. 

POLLOCK: I mean, the poor guy lives in a box. Can't really blame him for stealing a cookie. Just wish he hadn't taken mine, you know? 

The camera cuts to inside the cell, where CONFLUX has stopped in his tracks. A small, flat, foil-wrapped circle has been slid through the flap and onto the floor. 

POLLOCK (voiceover): But in the end, it's just a cookie. And I can always bring another one. 

CONFLUX unwraps the foil. A smile spreads across his face and he sinks to the floor. 

POLLOCK: 'Cause if the Epic's happy, everyone's happy, right? 

CONFLUX takes a bite of his cookie, savoring every bit of it.


INTERIOR: Government headquarters. The NEW EPIC stands outside the door to the room he was just in, arms folded across his chest, looking like he's one word away from rolling his eyes. 

NEW EPIC: So I'm Curveball now. Not much else to say about that, aside from the fact I was bullied into choosing a name I didn't want!

He raises his voice for the last three words, and is answered with a bolt of energy that cuts through the door and melts the floor not six inches from his foot. Terror passes over his face for just a moment before settling back into irritation again. 

CURVEBALL: You know, they might call me Curveball, but I'll always be Steelheart_666_blazeit_YOLO in my heart. 

STEELHEART (off-camera): No you won't. 

CURVEBALL lets out a noise halfway between a sigh and a growl. 





Edited by TwiLyghtSansSparkles

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16 hours ago, Edenstar said:

By far the best one yet, it's like watching the office. 

Thank you so much! ^_^ 


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On 12/18/2018 at 6:47 PM, TwiLyghtSansSparkles said:

Thank you so much! ^_^ 

That’s the best thing I’ve ever read and I support Steelheart_666_blazeit_YOLO’s life choices. I need more of this content in my life. You are amazing. 


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On 12/21/2018 at 4:09 PM, winter devotion said:

That’s the best thing I’ve ever read and I support Steelheart_666_blazeit_YOLO’s life choices. I need more of this content in my life. You are amazing. 

It's an absolute travesty that he was not allowed to keep that name. :P 

And I have another episode for you fine folks. Before we start, I'd like to thank @Snipexe for providing the initial idea for an Enforcement core in the catacombs, and @Voidus for providing me with Wisp's profile. 

Episode Four: First Dates Club



INTERIOR: Somewhere in Newcago. Whether we're in the overstreets or understreets isn't clear. A young woman, wearing clothes that are drably colored but too well-made for most understreeters, approaches a Prohibition-style steel door, the sort with a small window and a sliding panel at the top. She knocks, and a pair of eyes appear in the window. 



She asks another question we don't hear, and OLIVIA answers. The door swings open. OLIVIA removes her scarf, allowing her blonde curls to tumble free. She walks in and is greeted by about a dozen young women, all dressed much as she, in drab colors but with craftsmanship a bit too upscale for the understreets. They sit in a circle, perched atop packing crates and other scavenged items repurposed as furniture. OLIVIA takes her seat beside a woman her age or slightly older, with dark hair. She seems to be an exception: although the room is not populated exclusively by blondes, blonde hair is definitely the dominant color. We cut to OLIVIA standing closer to the door, the group at her back. 

OLIVIA: Officially, we're not a club. We're just a group of girls who've all dated the same Epic. Well—not dated. I mean, yeah, we've all gone on dates with Fortuity, but I don't mean dated like it's over. Once he takes you out on a date, it's kind of like being on-call at work. He wants you on a date, you go on a date. 

We cut to the group again. A young woman with straight brown hair cut in a bob sits on a crate beside OLIVIA. A slightly older woman stands and takes her place in the center of the circle. Her name is KRISTEN. 

KRISTEN: Everyone, say hello to our newest member, Avery. 

Murmured hellos ripple through the group. We cut to OLIVIA again. 

OLIVIA: Anyway, I guess the original plan was to call ourselves the First Dates Club, 'cause you're in after the first date, or even before, if somebody already in hears about it. But it turns out, Steelheart gets kinda paranoid about any group that calls itself a club, since first it's a club, then it's an organization, then it's a union, then it's trouble.

Another woman, with bobbed black hair, steps into frame. Her name is JASMINE. 

JASMINE: I've heard he swears the Reckoners started out as the I Hate Epics Club. 

OLIVIA: And I mean, maybe they did, but….that's the Reckoners. Not us. 

JASMINE: Should we have a moment of silence for the Beanie Babies Enthusiasts Club? 

OLIVIA: Yeah, another one can't hurt. 

We cut back to the group, where AVERY still sits. LINDSAY paces the circle with the air of a battle-hardened general. AVERY stares, wide-eyed, nodding along. 

OLIVIA: (voiceover) So yeah. We're not a club. Just a bunch of girls who get together to give advice and whatnot—even if some of it might sound kinda weird out of context. 

KRISTEN: Look, he's not some cute little cottage you buy on foreclosure that just needs some TLC. No. He's like one of those haunted elementary schools where you walk in and everything turns green and unsettling, and there's a slot machine in the boy's room that only hands out rotten banana chips, and in the lunchroom there's a cow in a hairnet walking on two legs who asks you how your mother's doing and then says "I know honey, I know" as she scrapes the toppings off your pizza. 

AVERY leans in close to OLIVIA once KRISTEN's back is turned. Her eyes are wide. 

AVERY: (whispering) Are those a thing? 

OLIVIA hesitates, evidently dismissing one or two possible answers before settling on another. 

OLIVIA: (whispering) Don't interrupt. 

KRISTEN: You've got to be cute. You've got to be smart. You've got to be flirty. 

OLIVIA's mobile buzzes. She pulls it from her pocket, reads the text, and hesitates a moment before speaking. 

OLIVIA: Hey, Kristen? 

KRISTEN whirls, any irritation at being interrupted just when she got going vanishing when she sees OLIVIA's phone. 

KRISTEN: He text you? 

OLIVIA: Yeah. You want me to read it? It looks kinda long. 

KRISTEN: Go for it. 

OLIVIA: (reading aloud) "Hey, beautiful. Kiss face emoji. Can't wait to see you tonight, wearing that little black dress with the fringe." She pauses, scrolling through the rest of the text. The rest is just flame emojis. 

KRISTEN: Okay if I show Avery what you send him, so she can get an idea of what to say? 

OLIVIA: Yeah, hang on. 

She begins typing out a message, swipes her finger a few times, copying and pasting a link, and presses SEND before handing her mobile to KRISTEN, who reads it aloud. 

KRISTEN: "Sparks yeah! My night just got good. I'll need to pick up a pair of these first." 

She opens the link, and her look of approval becomes a frown. 

KRISTEN: Uh, Liv? Did you mean to send this link? 

OLIVIA: It's just a pair of shoes. To Avery: He likes stilettos. 

KRISTEN: That's not what I'm seeing. 

She turns the screen back toward OLIVIA, the link now opened. OLIVIA's hands fly to her mouth. 

OLIVIA: Oh. Oh no. 


EXTERIOR: Understreets. This isn't the part of the understreets where children play and adults go about their daily lives. These are the catacombs. An Enforcement officer named BRYANT stands in the middle of a street, arms folded across his chest, staring off down the road. What few people there are give him a wide berth. 

BRYANT: This whole place was supposed to be bigger. A massive underground city, stretching for miles. Houses, parks, quaint little shops—the whole bit. 

The camera pans over his view, revealing a few large holes carved into the steel. Unlike those we've seen in the upper levels of the understreets, these are uneven, floors slanting at odd angles and doorways little more than angrily formed holes in the steel. 

BRYANT: 'Course, things went south once the Diggers went insane. Not sure what the lesson is here, but there's got to be one. He draws a long breath. Not many people come down here. Overstreeters like to stay up above, as a rule, but most understreeters aren't too fond of this place, either. We're not even supposed to be down here. 

We cut to another Enforcement officer, standing some distance away. Her name is SAMUELS.

SAMUELS: You know, Wisp isn't a bad Epic to work for. I mean, I might be biased, transferring from Refractionary's core, but Wisp? He's pretty great. 

We see more of the area surrounding her: specifically, a winding tunnel down which a lone figure can be seen, wandering from one side of the makeshift street to the other. 

SAMUELS (voiceover): But every Epic's got their….let's call them quirks. Refractionary's quirk was pure, unbridled road rage. Wisp's is a little different. 

The figure turns around for just a moment. We cut to SAMUELS, who waves, but the figure has already turned away and wandered back down another tunnel. 

SAMUELS (voiceover): He couldn't navigate his way out of a brown paper bag. And I'm not being facetious. He once got somebody's lunch bag stuck on his head—long story—thought he was lost, couldn't find his way back. Fortunately, he was able to use his powers to help him out of that one. Unfortunately….

A blue fireball swoops around the corner, pausing just beyond it. The figure appears a moment later, and the fireball does a small loop in midair before leading the figure back down the tunnel, toward SAMUELS. We cut back to her. 

SAMUELS: Yeah. Let's just say it's a good thing he's immune to his own fire, or that could've been a lot messier than it was. 


INTERIOR: The undisclosed location of the First Dates Not-A-Club. 

JASMINE: Try and un-send it! 

OLIVIA: I can't! He's already seen it! Oh God, he probably saw it an hour ago—

KRISTEN: Maybe he didn't. 

OLIVIA: Are you sure? Because he's probably seen it already so what does it matter if he saw it now or— She buries her head in her hands. Oh God, oh God, why did I have to have 247 tabs open...

AVERY: Maybe he won't be mad? 

OLIVIA: And why wouldn't he be? You saw what I did! 

AVERY: Look, maybe he'll see it and just think it's a nice song. I mean, the lyrics are really sweet. 

KRISTEN: Epics aren't aliens, Avery. He's probably heard of rickrolling. 

OLIVIA: Oh god, what am I gonna do, what am I gonna do—

A woman named DEENA stands to her feet, hand over her heart. 

DEENA: (singing) Oh, Canada….

KRISTEN shoots her a glare. 

KRISTEN: (also singing) Is home to Nukeyerbuns. 

She turns back to OLIVIA as DEENA takes her seat, head lowered. 

KRISTEN: Okay, we need to do damage control. He hasn't texted back yet, so Liv, you have time. All you have to do is tell him it was an accident, and—

OLIVIA's mobile buzzes from its place on a nearby crate. AVERY, who is closest, glances at it, eyes widening, before turning back to OLIVIA with an uneasy smile. 

AVERY: Hey! Looks like your mom got into your mobile and changed her name to Fortuity! 

OLIVIA stares at her a moment. She says nothing, she does nothing; then her skin flushes slightly green. 


EXTERIOR: Understreets. SAMUELS stands beside an Epic in grey and blue, cape swishing about his ankles. WISP looks up, looks to the left and looks to the right, before marching straight ahead with a determined air. 

SAMUELS: (voiceover) The number one rule for Epic Enforcement officers? Don't make Steelheart mad. That's the number one rule for human Enforcers too, surprise surprise. 

SAMUELS watches WISP go, apparently waiting for something. But he turns around, giving her a pointed look, and she has no choice but to follow. 

SAMUELS: (voiceover) The number two rule for human Enforcers? Defer to your Epic. 

WISP halts his progress abruptly as a wall looms before them. 

SAMUELS: (voiceover) Doesn't matter if they're right. Doesn't matter if they're wrong. Just do what they say and don't make a fuss. 

WISP: That wall. It wasn't there before. 

SAMUELS: I thought I saw it a few minutes ago. 

WISP: No, if you'd seen it, you would have said something. That's the rule. You're in my core, you tell me about any obstacles that might keep us trapped in the catacombs. 

SAMUELS: (voiceover) Always defer to your Epic. 

SAMUELS: You're right, sir. I apologize. 

WISP pauses, a lick of blue flame weaving between his fingers, before turning on his heel and marching straight the other way. 


INTERIOR: Back to the undisclosed location. OLIVIA snatches up her mobile and hands it to JASMINE. 

OLIVIA: You read it. I can't. 

JASMINE stares at the mobile for a long moment, her frown deepening from worry to confusion. 

OLIVIA: What's it say? 

JASMINE: It…doesn't say anything. It's just a picture of a graham cracker. 

OLIVIA: A what? 

JASMINE: A graham cracker sitting on the counter beside the bar, the one in his penthouse. Oh, wait—he just sent a picture of….a cigarette butt? And now we're back to the graham cracker. And now—wait, I think the cigarette butt was there, but it's gone. Now it's him.

OLIVIA: Does he look mad? How mad is he? A little? A lot? Does he look like he's gonna kill me? 

JASMINE: I can't tell, but he's not wearing a shirt. Wait. Now he's got a bottle of antacids. And…is that a kitchen timer? 

AVERY: Looks like it. 

JASMINE: Yeah, it's a kitchen timer. And now—hang on, what's he doing? 

She squints at the screen; then, with a sudden yelp, she drops the mobile. Only AVERY's quick catch saves it from the floor. JASMINE drops onto a crate, eyes wide, chest heaving. AVERY looks at the screen before quickly turning the mobile facedown and placing it on the crate beside her, drilling the wall with a thousand-yard stare. 

JASMINE: I am never eating graham crackers again. 


EXTERIOR: Understreets. BRYANT stands alongside another officer in WISP's core. BRYANT has two fingers pressed to his helmeted ear. 

BRYANT: We think we've found a street. Not one we recognize, but it's not the catacombs. Pause. He…okay. Does he have any leads? Pause. Gotcha. Well, we'll keep trying to find—

He breaks off as a flash of movement catches his eye: his fellow Enforcer is waving to him. 

BRYANT: Hang on. I think von Olenhausen's found something. 

He ends the call and jogs to where VON OLENHAUSEN stands waiting for him. Her visor is up, and her eyes are bright. 

BRYANT: So you did find something. Please tell me it's something good. 

VON OLENHAUSEN: Well, I found a body earlier. 

BRYANT stops walking to stare at her. She laughs. 

VON OLENHAUSEN: I'm totally kidding. I think I broke up a fight, though, or stopped one. 

BRYANT: So what did you find? 

VON OLENHAUSEN: You'll have to come with me. It's a surprise. 

BRYANT: If it really is a body, I swear to God—

VON OLENHAUSEN: Just come see. 

He follows her through the tunnels up to where the corridors suddenly widen, taking on a semblance of organization. 

BRYANT: Oh, thank God. This is a good surprise. 

VON OLENHAUSEN: Oh, you haven't seen anything yet. 

They walk a bit further. After they've gone a short distance, BRYANT sniffs the air. 

BRYANT: Is that….falafel? 

VON OLENHAUSEN grins and breaks into a jog. BRYANT follows her lead. After rounding a corner, they come face-to-face with a steel cart manned by an older gentleman. Judging by the line, his falafel is far from unpopular. For a long moment, BRYANT simply watches the line move, a look of wonder on his face. 

VON OLENHAUSEN: Well? Is this a good surprise or is this a good surprise? 

BRYANT looks ready to answer, but is startled out of it by a buzz on his radio. He presses two fingers to his temple and answers. 

BRYANT: Wisp? Pause. Yes, sir, we've definitely found something. 


INTERIOR: Undisclosed location. OLIVIA, who has seen the photos by now, appears on the verge of hyperventilating. DEENA is going through them with JASMINE, attempting to parse out whatever meaning they can dredge from the images. Just when it appears the not-a-club is on the verge of pure panic, KRISTEN stands in the center of the room and calls for attention. She has to raise her voice to be heard above the ruckus. 

KRISTEN: For Calamity's sake, did any of you think he might just be drunk? 

OLIVIA stops and frowns at the floor. DEENA looks up from the mobile and trades glances with JASMINE. Other girls look at each other, considering what their de facto leader has just said. 

AVERY: How…how can you tell, though? Have you ever seen him drunk? 

KRISTEN blinks at her a few times, then looks directly into the camera. We cut to her, standing apart from the main group. 

KRISTEN: Have I ever seen Fortuity drunk. What kind of a question is that? It's like asking if I've ever seen him gamble. Yeah. I've seen it, and you'll see it too. 

We cut back to KRISTEN as she moves from the center of the group to kneel before OLIVIA, putting her hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes. 

OLIVIA: You think that's it? You think he just got hammered in the middle of the day? 

KRISTEN rolls her eyes.

KRISTEN: I once saw him get absolutely blotto at nine in the morning. 

OLIVIA looks a little calmer. KRISTEN gives her a reassuring smile. 

KRISTEN: (voiceover) Oh yeah, that was an interesting day. 

We cut back to her standing apart from the group. She's scrolling through an archived text thread on her mobile. 

KRISTEN: I always save these conversations, read them when I get a spare minute in case he brings up something he said three weeks ago. Gotta stay consistent. Anyway….ah! Here it is. So, yeah. It was nine in the morning and he was already drunk. Started texting me, asking me what I was doing, and every time I answered, he'd text back, "lol i knew that." Didn't matter what I said. At one point, I said I was sitting there texting him, and he said "lol i knew that." He asked again, and I said the same thing. She frowns at her screen. That….actually went on longer than I remembered. Jeez, ten texts? Good lord. Oh, and then he sent me a picture of a duck riding in a tank dressed like the Dalai Lama—the tank, not the duck—chomping on a cigar labeled EDMONTON while kittens in capes zoom around in the background. I asked him what it was, he sent it again. I asked if that was a scene from his next movie, he sent it again. I asked if that was supposed to be an artistic interpretation of our relationship, and he said "If u have to ask, YOU'LL NEVER KNOW." Oh, but that's not the best part. 

She scrolls down and reads aloud. 

KRISTEN: "Send pics. Need pics. Send now. Send pics now." So I did. You want to know where I was? 

She holds her mobile up to the camera and we see her sitting, back framed by a red silk pillow, smiling. FORTUITY's face is also in the picture; he evidently photobombed her. 

KRISTEN: I was sitting right next to him.


EXTERIOR: Understreets. BRYANT stands off to the side while VON OLENHAUSEN chats with the man running the falafel cart, who seems far less at ease than she. BRYANT speaks into his radio. 

BRYANT: So you're still in the catacombs? 

We cut to SAMUELS, still in the catacombs. WISP stands a short distance away, conjuring a blue fireball. 

SAMUELS: Yes. I think we're close enough that a single fireball should get us to you. Kinda hard to tell, though. Where'd you say you were again? Pause. She turns to WISP. Sir, they've found a falafel cart. 

WISP: They're not back on the overstreets, are they? 

SAMUELS: No, sir. 

WISP: Are they standing by the falafel cart? Do they have falafel? Pause. Did those slontzes get falafel without me? 

SAMUELS pauses and listens to her radio. 

SAMUELS: No, sir, I can confirm there is no falafel being eaten without you. 

WISP builds his fireball, making it larger than before with an audible rush of wind and flame.

WISP: Well, then, let's go! 

SAMUELS pauses again as another message comes over her radio. 

SAMUELS: Um, sir, I've confirmed that the falafel cart does contain flammable materials. 

WISP: Yeah, so? 

SAMUELS winces slightly, anticipating the news she'll have to deliver. 

SAMUELS: So, if you use a fireball to navigate….we might not get falafel. 

WISP: How the sparks are we supposed to get out of here, then? 

SAMUELS looks over her shoulder, and the camera follows her gaze. Scorch marks cover the catacomb walls.

SAMUELS: Well, we've got a pretty decent idea of where not to go. 


INTERIOR: Undisclosed location. The group-of-like-minded-girls-that-is-not-a-club has shifted gears from comfort to planning. OLIVIA sits on a crate, watching her mobile for any new texts. KRISTEN, JASMINE, and several other girls have their mobiles open to various search engines. AVERY has her notepad app open and is recording ideas that the group comes up with.

OLIVIA: (voiceover) We're still not sure if he's drunk or sober. Kristen said it doesn't matter. He probably took me rickrolling him as a challenge—see who can send the weirdest thing. Or something. Whatever it is, he's gonna win, but that doesn't mean I don't have to play. 

We cut to her standing apart from the group, looking as though she's been up for two days straight. 

OLIVIA: Or maybe he's trying to catch me off guard. Or maybe he has some kind of weirdness app set on his mobile. I don't know. I just don't know. All I know is that I've got a date tonight and I've got… She checks her mobile. Three hours to fill between then and now. Or maybe five. He sent me a picture of a giant wicker 10 being burned in effigy, so maybe that's the time he wants to meet. 

We cut back to the group, where DEENA has stood to her feet, still looking at her mobile. 

DEENA: Okay, I've found a really obscure literary criticism of Green Eggs and Ham arguing that it's actually a metaphor for Mikhail Gorbachev and pre-glasnost Russia. 

KRISTEN: That is the weirdest thing I've ever heard. Liv, screenshot that and send it to him along with the picture of Elmo that Jasmine found. 

OLIVIA: The one with the flaming city, or the one where he looks like he's about to become dictator of a bunch of squirrels?

KRISTEN: Squirrels. Save the flaming city for when he starts talking about lutefisk. 

DEENA sends the link to OLIVIA, who follows KRISTEN's instructions. We cut to her once more. 

OLIVIA: I…won't go into detail on what he sent me after that, but Kristen said it was a good sign. Or she thinks it is. Guess he likes to be unpredictable, so I won't know until tonight. She rubs one eye with the back of her hand. Whatever happens, I just hope he takes me someplace with a lot of alcohol. 


EXTERIOR: Understreets. BRYANT and VON OLENHAUSEN stand beside the falafel cart. The line has decreased substantially. BRYANT looks at his mobile, mounted in the sleeve of his suit. 

BRYANT: (voiceover) We've been waiting for three hours. I've gotten one call from HQ asking why we're not up on the overstreets. I told them Wisp had gotten lost again, and they said "Oh," and hung up. 

VON OLENHAUSEN looks down the street. This one has a good number of twists and turns, being so close to the catacombs, but it still has a sense of logic to it: It branches off to form other streets, a few of which are labeled. 

BRYANT: (voiceover) They've got tracking, sure, but it tends to work best on the overstreets. Down here, HQ can lose track of how many levels down somebody is and just where they are on a street. Things go sideways, is what I'm saying. 

We cut to him standing a short distance from the falafel cart. 

BRYANT: I have stood here, smelling that falafel, for three hours. It's one of those annoying lunch things, you know? You're waiting on somebody to show up, you know they'll be mad if you eat without them, and you think they're going to get there any second, and before you know it you've waited three hours and you still want falafel. He draws a breath. 'Course, we'll have to go right back to the overstreets once Wisp shows up, so…well, it's not like there's not falafel up there. I'll just have to wait 'till the end of my shift. 

Soon, WISP appears, cape trailing behind him. His arrival causes those who see him to tense, to suddenly be on their best behavior: One man, who had been pouring a mildly unsettling amount of yogurt sauce on his order, suddenly stops and sets the bottle aside. WISP walks straight on by without acknowledging him. BRYANT greets him with a salute and VON OLENHAUSEN gives a deep nod. 

BRYANT: Good to see you, sir. 

WISP: Remind me when we get back to HQ to figure out who the sparks is shifting the walls around. 

BRYANT: The walls, sir? 

WISP: Do you have another explanation for what took us so long? 

BRYANT trades glances with SAMUELS before looking directly into the camera. 

VON OLENHAUSEN: I believe we've found a way out. We're pretty deep in the understreets, but there's a path to the surface. But first, what are your orders? 

WISP looks to her, then to the falafel cart. The man behind the cart continues about his work, avoiding the Epic's gaze. WISP looks beyond him, toward the nearest cross street, before approaching the cart, skipping the line. 

WISP: I'd like to place an order for four orders. Four orders. I want to place four orders. 

BRYANT silently fist-pumps. We cut to a short while later, as the core is polishing off their falafel. 

SAMUELS: I suppose you want us to head back to HQ, sir? Get back to work? 

WISP looks toward the nearest cross street, then to the falafel cart, and then to the remainder of the falafel still in his hands. 

WISP: I dunno. It wasn't easy to find you. 

SAMUELS looks into the camera. 

WISP: We might need more falafel before we go. Just to be safe. 

VON OLENHAUSEN: It is a couple hours before dinner, and longer before end of shift. 

WISP glances toward the falafel cart again. 

WISP: Maybe we should stay near the food. You know, until end of shift gets closer. 

Nobody argues. 


EXTERIOR: FORTUITY's penthouse. FORTUITY leans against his black convertible, waiting for OLIVIA to arrive. 

FORTUITY: Of course I messed with her. Who wouldn't? 

We cut to OLIVIA in her apartment, fixing a black headband with a red silk carnation to her curls.

FORTUITY: (voiceover) I sparking love rickrolling. Kinda want to do it to Steelheart, but…yeah, I'm not that dumb. I mean, it's a little different when you're the one being rickrolled, but at the end of the day, you've still watched Rick Astley sing "Never Gonna Give You Up" against your will, and if you don't think that's the best way to watch it, you're just wrong. 

OLIVIA applies a layer of red lipstick and checks her reflection before turning away, black fringe of her dress brushing against her calves. 

FORTUITY: (voiceover) And I like Olivia. Great gal. 

OLIVIA pauses to wrap a red shawl around her shoulders before grabbing a pair of red stilettos from beside her door. We cut to her approaching FORTUITY from down the sidewalk; we cut back to him and it is clear he likes what he sees. She reaches the car, he kisses her and she kisses him back. He then goes around to the driver's side while she gets in the passenger door. 

FORTUITY: How about some music? 

OLIVIA: Sure? 

He presses a button on the console, and the intro to "Never Gonna Give You Up" plays. OLIVIA casts a brief glance—the briefest glance—at the camera before the convertible speeds off down the street, Rick Astley's voice following them into the night.




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Those writing guides that list the greatest closing lines in literature as an example to students need to add another entry.


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7 hours ago, Kobold King said:

Those writing guides that list the greatest closing lines in literature as an example to students need to add another entry.

Why thank you. ^_^ 


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These are simply fantastic.  :lol:  The whole screenplay format you've got going on works so well with this concept.

Edited by Zath

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