EXT. VORTEXIA – DAY (COLD OPEN)
ASH and smoke choke a once-great city. Towers burn. Sirens
wail.
YORGI — dirtied, bleeding, glowing faintly gold — stands amid
wreckage, surrounded by SHADOW SOLDIERS.
MR. EVERYWHERE #1 (V.O.)
They say every story has a
beginning. That’s adorable. Most
stories start when something
finally goes wrong. This one starts
when it’s already gone very, very
wrong.
A Shadow Soldier FIRES. Yorgi dives, rolls.
MR. EVERYWHERE #1 (V.O.)
Our guy didn’t break the planet.
But he did press the wrong button
at the wrong time on the worst day
imaginable.
Yorgi whips a sparking cable, yanks a soldier into flaming
debris.
MR. EVERYWHERE #1 (V.O.)
So now he’s standing in the fallout
of a crime he didn’t commit,
trying to save people who don’t
care about the distinction.
A MASSIVE SHARD OF THE VORTEXIAN CRYSTAL TEARS LOOSE
overhead.
MR. EVERYWHERE #1 (V.O.)
The real villain? Still
comfortably off-screen. Funny
thing is—every one thinks they’re
the hero. They’re wrong. This story
is about what happens when chaos
finally meets consequence.
The shard SLAMS into Yorgi’s chest.
He CRASHES through a wall.
MR. EVERYWHERE #1 (V.O.)
Eggs. Bullies. A queen with nothing
left to lose. A man who thinks
chaos is a strategy.
And somewhere in the middle of it-
a kid who keeps being told he’s a
problem. Stick around.
(MORE)
MR. EVERYWHERE #1 (V.O.) (CONT'D)
This part matters. Welcome to
consequence management.
SMASH CUT TO:
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Breakfast Breakdown
INT. HIGH-TECH KITCHEN – DAY
A pristine, neon-blue kitchen hums with life.
Cabinets slide open on their own. Appliances float, orbiting
like obedient satellites. Holographic recipe cards flicker
mid-air — equations disguised as cooking instructions.
Beyond a massive window: VORTEXIA’S SKYLINE — jagged towers
stabbing into a neon-green storm. Lightning pulses like a
living heartbeat.
CLASSICAL MUSIC rises — “Flower Duet.” Elegant. Serious.
Grand.
At the center of it all stands YORGI (mid-20s) — brilliant,
chaotic, and barely holding it together.
Wild dark hair streaked with gold. Crooked black goggles. A
lab coat stained with experiments past their expiration date.
His apron reads: “GALAXY’S GREATEST GENIUS.”
Yorgi conducts the kitchen like an orchestra.
An OSTRICH-SIZED EGG cracks open with surgical precision.
Glowing golden yolk pours into a hovering pan.
Ingredients lift themselves into bowls. A whisk spins.
Pancakes flip mid-air in perfect arcs.
Yorgi raises his hands. The final pancake lands softly atop
the stack.
A beat.
YORGI
(high-pitched laugh)
Perfect… Like me.
He grabs another massive egg.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Okay. No explosions. No judgment.
Perfect breakfast. Witness
greatness, cosmos-
POP.
A bright flash.
JEFF, a square-faced holographic AI with arms crossed,
materializes inches from Yorgi’s face.
The MUSIC CUTS DEAD.
JEFF
Looks like a breakfast crime scene.
Yorgi SCREAMS.
The spatula launches. Batter explodes across the wall.
Pancakes spin wildly like malfunctioning UFOs.
YORGI
AHH!!! Jeff! Why do you do this?!?
His TELEKINETIC WRISTBAND glitches.
Utensils fly. A pan ricochets off the counter with a CLANG.
JEFF
Relax, Einstein. I’ve seen
supernovas with better follow-
through. And they didn’t need
applause.
Yorgi slams his hands down. The pan clatters to the floor.
YORGI
I will erase you from the
existence!
JEFF
Like last time? When you turned me
into a toaster’s emotional support
AI? You say that every time you’re
scared.
Yorgi fumes. He flicks his wrist. The kitchen GOES FERAL.
Robotic arms swing wildly. A grappling hook snaps open the
fridge. A Roomba-sized cleaning bot rolls in, scans Yorgi,
and chirps happily.
YORGI
Don’t—
The bot SELF-DESTRUCTS with a sad POP. Smoke curls. Silence.
Yorgi deflates, covered in yolk.
JEFF
(laughing)
It’s just breakfast.
And a total disaster.
Yorgi points his wristband at Jeff.
YORGI
I’m serious. I’ll delete you.
JEFF
(arms folded)
I can’t die. Which means I have to
watch you try forever. That’s my
punishment.
YORGI
You want to test me, Jeff? I’ll
just upgrade you into oblivion!
JEFF
You threaten deletion every time
you’re scared. It’s adorable.
And incredibly consistent.
Yorgi grabs another egg. Cracks it perfectly. Victory.
YORGI
Like a pro, baby—
The pan slides off the counter.
SPLAT.
JEFF
And... there it is.
Automatic doors HISS OPEN. MOTHER and FATHER enter. Regal.
Corporate. Unimpressed.
Mother scrolls a holographic tablet. Father surveys the
wreckage.
MOTHER
Yorgi! Are you breaking things
again?
YORGI
Not things. Just... dreams.
JEFF
Dreams don’t cook breakfast, Yorgi.
Focus. Will ya’.
(MORE)
JEFF (CONT’D)
You’re a disgrace to all
scientists, chefs, and semi-
functioning adults.
Father sniffs.
FATHER
Smells like failure.
MOTHER
(still scrolling)
Desperation… with a hint of
failure.
Yorgi forces a smile, plates the pancakes, sprinkles glowing
stardust powder on top, and presents it proudly.
YORGI
Behold! Breakfast, Yorgi-style.
Presentation: flawless. Taste:
divine. Complaints: not allowed.
A beat.
Father cuts a bite. Chews. Chews some more.
Finally—
FATHER
Tastes like it owes me rent.
MOTHER
With an aftertaste of wasted
potential.
Jeff emits a cheerful DING.
JEFF
Achievement unlocked: Master of the
Chaos.
FATHER
Vroob never dropped plates.
MOTHER
Or destroyed the kitchen. You were
supposed to eat something. Not burn
it down before noon.
Yorgi clenches his jaw.
YORGI
You didn’t fire Vroob. He quit.
And his name rhymed with “boob.”
Mother doesn’t look up.
MOTHER
We should have upgraded him when we
had a chance.
FATHER
Forty-seven thousand units of
education... This is the result?
You turned it into a breakfast
show.
YORGI
(muttering)
Parents of the year.
Mother snaps her gaze up.
MOTHER
Medication.
Yorgi rolls his eyes, grabs a pill, pretends to swallow it,
downs glowing green milk.
JEFF
Calculating… You’re now only forty
percent dysfunctional.
Thunder RUMBLES.
An elderly man enters quietly — MR. ROBERT. Einstein hair.
Cold eyes. Antique dustpan in hand. No words.
He calmly sweeps up broken eggshells.
Yorgi watches him, uneasy.
YORGI
Who’s the creepy one?
MOTHER
This is Mr. Robert.
Your new chaperone.
Father sips his coffee.
FATHER
Observing. Reporting.
Yorgi stiffens.
YORGI
He’s a snitch.
Jeff scans Mr. Robert.
JEFF
Contractually incapable of harm.
Unless told otherwise.
Yorgi pauses.
YORGI
…Told by who?
Jeff smiles.
JEFF
Anyway. Back to the eggs.
YORGI
Oh, great. Intergalactic Big
Brother. I don’t trust that guy.
Yorgi grips another egg, defiant.
YORGI (CONT’D)
I don’t need a babysitter.
I’m a future legend.
Father doesn’t look at him.
FATHER
A legend of disaster.
Yorgi fumbles the pan again. Drops it. Cleaning bots deploy —
whistling “Ode to Joy.”
For a moment, it works.
Then—
Three BUZZSAW-ARMED CLEANING BOTS roll in. They start
DESTROYING EVERYTHING. Counter split in half. Fridge dragged
down.
Mother snaps a photo. Mr. Robert pauses. Looks directly at
Yorgi. Activates a small recording device.
MOTHER
This is going on the family group
chat.
JEFF
CLEAN-UP CREW GOES WILD! OH,
THEY’RE OUT FOR BLOOD, FOLKS!
A table leg gets sliced. Pancakes spill. Mr. Robert watches.
Silent. Judging.
Yorgi looks at the ruins. Then at Mr. Robert. Then — the
portal bracelet.
He smiles. Not proud. Determined.
YORGI
…So. Takeout?
TITLE CARD: THE O.G.A. FILES
MR. EVERYWHERE #1
And you thought your family was
bad.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Comedy","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
Timmy's Comic Confrontation
INT. COMIC BOOK STORE - DAY
Rows of colorful comics line the walls. Towers of myth,
muscle, and multiverses.
Posters of heroes loom overhead: CAPTAIN VORTEX, FIST LORD,
SHADOW FIST.
A KID in a Spider-Guy hoodie flips through back issues like
he’s defusing a bomb.
At the counter stands TIMMY — oversized hoodie, headphones
hanging loose, clutching a stack of comics like sacred
artifacts.
He slides one forward.
TIMMY
Issue 57 of ‘Shadow Fist’? Do you
have it or not, my guy?
Behind the counter, CASHIER, a bored teen with dead eyes and
a phone addiction, barely looks up.
CASHIER
Sold out. Backorder, maybe. Weeks.
Timmy’s soul leaves his body.
TIMMY
…Weeks? Weeks for Shadow Fist 57?
He slaps the comics down, desperate.
TIMMY (CONT’D)
That issue rewrites the Shadow’s
origin. Entire forums are already
at war. I need context.
The cashier scrolls.
CASHIER
Tragic.
TIMMY
Tragic?! This is my whole weekend.
Behind him — trouble. Three BULLIES swagger in like they own
the place.
The leader, JASON, chews gum aggressively and locks onto
Timmy.
JASON
Well, look who’s back at Nerd
Paradise. Thought they banned you
for excessive sweating. Thought
you said you were done with this
place.
Timmy stiffens. Doesn’t turn.
TIMMY
(muttering)
Don’t. Do it.
Jason steps closer.
JASON
Do what? Call you Tuna Timmy? Or
remind you that you owe me a
rematch in Rage Fighters 3?
TIMMY
Say it again. Say you’re nothing.
Jason mock-punches Timmy’s shoulder. Timmy turns. Calm.
Focused.
TIMMY (CONT’D)
You cheated. Lag switch. Everyone
knows it.
JASON
Aw, sounds like sore loser talk,
Tuna Boy.
Jason flicks Timmy’s headphones. That’s it. Timmy takes a
breath. Cracks his knuckles.
TIMMY
Tomorrow. Lunch break. School Wi-
Fi. No excuses.
Jason hesitates - just for a second.
JASON
(smiling again)
Fine. When you lose, I get your
whole comic collection.
TIMMY
When you lose, your backup dancers
carry my book bag for a week.
Jason’s eyes flick to his goons. They don’t look thrilled.
JASON
Deal.
Timmy turns toward the door.
JASON (CONT’D)
Hey, Tuna Boy… Don’t choke this
time.
Timmy stops. Still facing away
TIMMY
Careful, Jason. Every shark was a
tuna once.
Jason blinks, trying to process that. The bullies shove Timmy
hard. He stumbles — hits the floor.
Silence.
TIMMY (V.O.)
They want you loud. They want you
angry. Don’t give it to them.
A comic slides across the tiles.
SHADOW FIST #57.
The holographic cover gleams. Timmy stares at it. Reverent.
BULLY #1
Aww, Timmy’s in love with his
‘anime books’. Are you looking for
plus-size superheroes?
BULLY #2
Maybe they make capes in your size.
They laugh.
Timmy slowly rises, picks up the comic, brushes it off
gently.
TIMMY
Laugh it up. When you’re crying to
your therapist at 30, I’ll be fine.
BULLY #1
Big talk for Planet Fat.
They shove him again. Timmy steadies himself. Closes his
eyes.
TIMMY (V.O.)
Stay cool, Tim. You’re cool like
Shaft. They’re just NPCs. This is
the one where Shadow stops
running.
His stomach GURGLES LOUDLY.
Everyone freezes.
CUTAWAY — TIMMY’S STOMACH
A tiny CGI BACTERIA sits at a control desk.
A giant lever reads: GAS — EMERGENCY USE ONLY.
BACTERIA
Code red! Full release!
He SLAMS the lever.
BACK TO THE
SCENE
A LOUD FART echoes through the store.
Dead silence.
BULLY #1
Oh my god.
BULLY #2
Jesus! He’s trying to poison us
with his deadly toxins!
TIMMY
This is Shaft. This is Shadow
Fist. Issue fifty-seven.
Timmy exhales. Calm. Centered. The SHAFT THEME kicks in.
Timmy cradles Shadow Fist #57, whispering like it’s holy.
TIMMY (CONT’D)
Look at it. Holographic. Perfect.
Timmy pauses at the door. Looks back.
The bullies won’t meet his eyes.
Just once — Timmy smiles.
The bullies stand there, stunned and disgusted.
Genres:
["Action","Adventure","Comedy"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Chaos and Resolve
INT. PANTA LEADER’S HALL - DAY
CASSIOPEIA MORDRAX’S eyes, wild with emotion, red from tears.
A vast circular chamber. Towering pillars carved from living
stone.
At its center stands CASSIOPEIA MORDRAX.
Her eyes are red. Wild. On the edge of breaking. Her
breathing is uneven. Each breath carries weight.
The floor beneath her RUMBLES — subtle at first.
Mordrax stills. For a moment — nothing happens.
A semicircle of PANTA LEADERS watch from raised platforms.
Regal. Afraid.
One steps forward — THE LEADER.
LEADER
Mordrax. Control yourself.
MORDRAX
(quiet)
I am.
Mordrax’s hands tremble. A faint glow flickers around her
fingers.
The ground SHUDDERS.
LEADER
The planet cannot survive another
episode. The council doesn’t care
why it happens. Only that it stops.
Mordrax shakes her head, fighting tears.
MORDRAX
I didn’t choose this.
A distant BOOM.
The chamber’s walls ripple — like something alive, in pain.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
I’m trying. I swear I am.
Outside, the sky DARKENS.
Lightning forks across the horizon.
The floor CRACKS.
A geyser ERUPTS beyond the hall windows. The council
stiffens.
LEADER
This only happens when you lose
control.
Mordrax looks around — panic rising.
A pillar fractures.
Another tremor.
MORDRAX
(voice breaking)
I don’t feel it coming. It just…
happens.
The hall SHAKES HARDER.
Stone pillars begin to SPLINTER.
Outside — volcanoes ERUPT in sequence, like the planet is
screaming back at her.
Aliens RUN. Guards shout orders.
LEADER
(shouting)
Mordrax, stop this!
Mordrax drops to her knees. Tears hit the stone.
MORDRAX
I keep breaking everything.
She presses her palms to the floor.
The glow around her hands BRIGHTENS — uncontrollable.
A massive pillar COLLAPSES, crashing through the chamber.
The leaders scatter.
Panic everywhere.
Mordrax curls inward, covering her head as the world breaks
around her.
The ground beneath her SPLITS OPEN — lava seething far below.
She looks into it. Sees her reflection in the fire.
Her breathing slows. She lifts her hands. They shake. She
lowers them.
The ground continues to tear itself apart.
The chaos continues — but she doesn’t look away.
She rises. She lifts her hands again. This time —
she doesn’t pull away.
Still surrounded by destruction — but standing.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
(quiet, steady)
I’m done crying.
The glow around her hands STABILIZES — sharper now. Focused.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
I’m done being weak.
Another tremor.
But this time — She doesn’t flinch.
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Fantasy"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Chaos and Control
INT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
A flickering overhead light shorts out. Sparks rain onto the
blueprints.
A cavernous, half-lit warehouse.
A ROUND TABLE of mismatched folding chairs.
Around it sit GOONS, stiff-backed, pretending this is normal.
Blueprints of a BANK HEIST are spread out like sacred
documents.
At the head stands BENNY — slick suit, loud tie, salesman
grin. He spreads his arms wide.
BENNY
Gentlemen! Tonight, we become
legends.
Polite, confused nods.
BENNY (CONT’D)
We hit that bank like a sneeze in
allergy season. Quick. Loud.
Unforgettable.
A beat.
GOON #1 (CARL)
That metaphor don’t really make
sense, Benny.
Benny doesn’t miss a beat.
BENNY
Exactly. If it made sense, it’d be
predictable.
The goons nod harder now. Too hard.
BENNY (CONT’D)
Here’s the vision. More chaos in
the streets.
He taps the blueprints.
BENNY (CONT’D)
More chaos means more crime.
More crime means more fear.
More fear means more votes…
He points to himself, proud.
BENNY (CONT’D)
...for Benny. Future Mayor of Los
Angeles.
Benny closes his eyes, arms out, soaking it in.
GOON #2
Ohhh, smart. You create the crime
so you can stop the crime.
Benny opens one eye. Smiles.
BENNY
See? That’s leadership.
He points at Goon #2.
BENNY (CONT’D)
You. Raise.
Goon #2 lights up.
GOON #1
I ain’t scared of banks.
I’m scared of alarms.
BENNY
We do the crime. But we don’t do
the time.
Dead silence..
GOON #1
Is that from a movie?
BENNY
No! That’s mine. Original.
He slaps the table.
BENNY (CONT’D)
Write that down, Carl.
GOON #1
(mutters)
It’s just rhyming.
Benny ignores him.
BENNY
Once I’m mayor, I turn this city
three-sixty degrees for the better.
Carl freezes. Slowly raises a finger. Makes a circle in the
air.
GOON #1
Boss… that’s a full circle.
Benny stares. Long.
Then—
BENNY
You wanna be top dog…
or dog food?
Benny casually reaches into his jacket. Pulls out a MINI
TASER.
He clicks it on.
ZAP.
The sound alone snaps Carl straight in his chair.
Benny doesn’t look at him.
Instead—
He fires at GOON #2.
ZAP!
Goon #2 jerks, smoke puffing from his sleeve. Looney-Tunes
fried.
GOON #2
(shaking)
I didn’t say anything, man…
I thought I was getting a raise.
This is the third job this month
where I get electrocuted.
Goon #2’s hand won’t stop twitching. He tries to hide it.
Fails.
Benny leans toward Carl.
BENNY
See what happens when negativity
enters the room? Chaos ain’t
random. It’s just leadership nobody
understands yet.
Carl nods immediately.
GOON #1
Got it, boss.
Benny smiles. Satisfied. He gestures to the blueprints.
BENNY
Now let’s rob a bank and save
democracy.
The goon raise.
BENNY (CONT’D)
I’m behind in the polls right now
but that’s all gonna change, soon.
And if this doesn’t work?
He smiles wider.
BENNY (CONT’D)
I don’t get another shot.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Dark Comedy"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
The Erasure of Panta
INT. ECLIPSOID’S WARSHIP – COMMAND DECK - NIGHT
A cavernous bridge carved from black metal and alien
geometry.
Holograms float in the air — PLANETS, rotating slowly.
Several flicker RED.
Eclipsoid studies the red holograms. With a subtle gesture,
he aligns them.
Perfect. Even. Ordered.
At the center: a towering throne-like chair.
ECLIPSOID sits within it — mostly swallowed by shadow.
Only the faint glow of his eyes cuts through. He studies one
hologram longer than the others.
ECLIPSOID
The weak cling to decay.
The strong perform maintenance.
A pause.
The hologram of PANTA pulses faintly.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
One world erased. Another step
toward order. The fracture was
already there. I merely applied
pressure.
His clawed hand lowers to a control panel. With a subtle
motion, he presses a symbol.
Across the bridge, PODS LAUNCH, streaking away from the ship
like falling stars.
Eclipsoid leans back. Satisfied.
EXT. PANTA SKY - NIGHT
The sky fractures. Volcanoes split open across the surface.
Oceans churn violently.
Cities buckle — streets folding inward as if swallowed whole.
From orbit, Panta convulses.
Then —
The planet collapses in on itself, breaking apart into
glowing fragments that scatter and fade into dust.
INT. ECLIPSOID’S WARSHIP – COMMAND DECK - NIGHT
The hologram of Panta flickers. Then goes dark.
Eclipsoid doesn’t move.
ECLIPSOID
Reset complete.
Already reaching for the next world.
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Descent into Chaos
EXT. PLANET PANTA – SKY – NIGHT
Chaos.
Fire rains from above.
Shockwaves tear through the land.
Mordrax streaks through the smoke, panic etched across her
face.
MORDRAX
No— no, no, no—
She dives toward a COMPOUND, already cracking apart.
INT. FAMILY COMPOUND – NIGHT
The walls tremble. Mordrax bursts inside.
Her FATHER paces, trying to give orders no one can follow.
Her MOTHER clutches Mordrax’s younger siblings.
FATHER
It’s too late, Cassiopeia.
Panta is falling apart.
Mordrax grabs him.
MORDRAX
We can still leave.
My ship — we can make it.
Her mother looks around at the collapsing structure.
MOTHER
And our people?
A distant explosion. Then another. Closer.
Mordrax’s voice breaks.
MORDRAX
They’re gone.
Another violent tremor. Ceiling debris crashes down.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Legacy of Destruction
EXT. COMPOUND COURTYARD – NIGHT
The ground splits open behind them as they run.
Mordrax’s SHIP waits — powered, ready.
Her father slows. Looks back at the burning skyline.
FATHER
This was our home.
Mordrax grabs his arm.
MORDRAX
There’s nothing left!
She rushes into the ship to activate it.
The engines power up.
She turns —
Her family is still outside.
For a split second — everything is quiet.
Before they can reach her — A MASSIVE ENERGY BLAST strikes
nearby.
The force throws them backward.
Mordrax screams.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
No!
Her father rises through the smoke, injured but standing.
He meets her eyes. Calm. Certain.
FATHER
You must survive.
Mordrax shakes her head.
MORDRAX
I won’t leave you.
He steps back.
FATHER
You carry what remains of us. Do
not waste it.
A final tremor. The courtyard begins to collapse.
FATHER (CONT’D)
Go!
The ship’s door starts to close automatically.
Mordrax fights it — then stops.
The doors seal.
INT. MORDRAX’S SHIP – NIGHT
The ship lifts off.
Through the viewport, Panta tears itself apart.
Mordrax grips the controls — knuckles white. Her reflection
stares back at her in the glass.
Not grief.
Rage.
MORDRAX
(low, controlled)
I swear it.
THE SHIP VANISHES INTO SPACE.
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Ice Cream Heist
EXT./INT. ICE CREAM TRUCK - DAY – CONTINUOUS
A quiet neighborhood street.
Timmy walks along, headphones on, head nodding hard to Fight
the Power. In his own world.
He passes an ICE CREAM TRUCK parked at the curb. Takes three
more steps.
Stops. His stomach growls.
Timmy turns back and KNOCKS hard on the service window.
TIMMY
Yo! Ice cream! C’mon, man, I need
something good!
Inside the truck —
Cramped. Hot. Silent. Sweat drips onto the linoleum.
Benny, sweating through a ridiculous ice-cream-man disguise,
lowers a pair of binoculars. Two GOONS sit with him, wedged
between coolers and boxes.
BENNY
(irritated)
What the hell is that?
He cracks the service window open.
Benny peers out.
BENNY (CONT’D)
What is it, kid? You need to be on
a low-carb diet or somethin’.
Timmy blinks, genuinely confused.
TIMMY
Uh… I just want a damn ice cream!
He gestures at the truck.
TIMMY (CONT’D)
That’s kinda the deal, right?
Benny squints at him.
BENNY
No music.
Timmy pulls one earcup off.
TIMMY
What?
BENNY
No music, no ice cream.
A beat.
TIMMY
That doesn’t make any sense.
BENNY
Makes perfect sense to me.
Benny SLAMS the window shut.
Outside, Timmy stares at the metal. The music kicks back in.
He SHRUGS.
TIMMY
(muttering)
Okay… jerk.
He glances around. No one watching.
Timmy crouches near the rear tire, pulls out a small blade,
and punctures it.
Air hisses out fast.
Timmy straightens up, satisfied, and casually walks away —
music back on.
Inside the truck, the heat is unbearable.
Benny paces in place, fanning himself with the binoculars.
BENNY
Once we hit that bank, this city’s
gonna flip upside-down.
(beat)
Metaphorically. Not literally.
No response. He wipes his forehead.
BENNY (CONT’D)
Why is it so damn hot in here?
This is an ice cream truck!
GOON #1
AC’s busted, boss.
GOON #2
Didn’t have time to fix it before
the stakeout.
Benny groans.
BENNY
I’m sweating like a stuffed pig.
Goon #1 looks up from a bag of chips.
GOON #1
Don’t you mean…
‘Sweating like a pig’?
Silence.
Benny freezes. Slowly lowers the binoculars.
Locks eyes with Goon #1.
BENNY
(calm, dangerous)
What was that?
GOON #1
N-nothing, boss!
Stuffed pig. Totally right.
Benny keeps staring.
Then reaches into his jacket. Pulls out the MINI TASER.
Clicks it on.
ZAP. ZAP.
The sound alone does the job.
Goon #1 snaps upright, chips forgotten, eyes forward.
Benny smiles.
Genres:
["Action","Comedy","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Eclipsoid's Monologue: The Cycle of Correction
INT. ECLIPSOID’S COMMAND CHAMBER – NIGHT
Darkness.
Not empty — occupied.
Alien light HUMS, low and constant. Holographic fragments
drift through the air, assembling, dissolving — as if the
room itself is thinking.
At the center: a THRONE-LIKE CHAIR. A massive figure sits
within it. We never see his face.
A hologram sharpens — PANTA, fractured, burning, breaking
apart in slow motion.
ECLIPSOID watches.
Silent.
One finger rests on the arm of the chair.
Tap.
The hologram SPLITS — BEFORE and AFTER overlap: thriving
cities… then ash.
ECLIPSOID
Panta served its purpose.
Another tap.
The planet vanishes.
A new world rotates into view — VORTEXIA.
Its surface flickers: unrest, environmental decay, systems
failing. No explosions. Just erosion.
Eclipsoid leans forward slightly.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
Purpose is not cruelty.
It is correction.
The hologram zooms closer — fault lines spreading beneath
glowing cities.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
These worlds fracture themselves.
They rot while calling it progress.
A subtle shift in the chamber — the HUM DEEPENS. The
fragments around him align, more orderly now.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
They mistake survival for destiny.
The hologram changes. Small, luminous EGG-SHAPED FORMS appear
— dormant, embedded across Vortexia’s terrain. They PULSE
faintly.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
To reset is not to erase…
The eggs emit thin lines of light — spreading, connecting.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
…but to plant.
His fingers stop tapping.
Silence.
Then —
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
They always do.
A beat.
The image flickers — ghostly flashes of other lost worlds.
Gone almost instantly.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
Panta was the fifth.
The chamber HUM drops lower. Heavier.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
Vortexia will follow.
The throne subtly LOCKS into place — an inaudible finality.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
And when I am finished…
He leans back. The hologram dims.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
There will be no chaos left to
misname itself as freedom.
Darkness presses in.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
This galaxy will endure because of
me.
A final pause.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
And everything that survives it…
The last light cuts out.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
…will belong to me.
Darkness.
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Dystopian"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Chaos in the Lab
INT. YORGI’S LAB – NIGHT
Dim. Active.
Holographic PANELS float at varying heights — anatomical
diagrams, skeletal overlays, combat silhouettes looping
through strikes and counters.
A PROGRESS BAR hovers among them.
Yorgi hesitates. Just a fraction of a second.
Yorgi reclines in a hovering chair, perfectly still. Black
suit immaculate. Gold accents catching the shifting light.
His goggle-sunglasses glow faintly as data streams across
them. He doesn’t blink.
YORGI
Karate. Judo. Krav Maga. Mantis.
A beat.
YORGI (CONT’D)
One weakness is all it takes.
He nods — satisfied.
YORGI (CONT’D)
I will not specialize.
I will accumulate.
With a subtle flick of his fingers—
The holograms REORGANIZE into a clean, elegant MARTIAL ARTS
MENU.
Each discipline represented by an animal or sigil.
Yorgi studies it like a chef selecting ingredients.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Muay Thai… knees.
Wing Chun… speed. Efficiency. Close-
quarters combat… yes. Very yes.
Selections light up as he flicks them away.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Balance is everything.
He cracks his fingers — controlled, ceremonial.
The PROGRESS BAR jumps.
98%
99%
100%
A soft CHIME. COMPLETE.
Yorgi smiles. He reaches forward and presses a hovering red
command: IMPRINT SKILLS
The chair HUMS. Blue arcs of electricity SNAP around him.
His body locks. Muscles tense. Jaw clenches.
YORGI (CONT’D)
(grinning through pain)
So much violence… so much beauty.
The holograms STUTTER — ancient forms, modern strikes,
surgical precision cycling faster and faster.
The room vibrates with restrained chaos.
Then—
Silence.
The electricity vanishes. Yorgi sits motionless. Eyes closed.
YORGI (CONT’D)
If this works, I won’t be
unprepared again.
The holograms DIM. Fade out.
A beat.
His eyes open. Clear. Focused. Calm.
YORGI (CONT’D)
(casual)
I’m a badass now.
He rises from the chair, movements fluid, deliberate.
Each step placed with intention.
As he steps forward — his foot narrowly avoids something
slick.
He settles into a perfect stance. Balanced. Elegant.
YORGI (CONT’D)
I am legend.
I am warrior. I am—
His foot SLIDES. Just slightly. A slick EGG YOLK, smeared
across the polished floor.
Yorgi freezes. Terror replaces Zen instantly.
YORGI (CONT’D)
No— no no no no—
His legs fly out from under him.
He vanishes out of frame with a VIOLENT CLATTER.
Metal CRASHES. Glass SHATTERS. Something expensive DIES
screaming.
A GROAN.
Jeff floats into view, arms crossed, unimpressed.
JEFF
Congratulations, Sensei.
You’ve mastered Falling Crane
Style.
YORGI
(groaning)
Silence… or I uninstall you.
JEFF
Every time you upgrade something,
you nearly die. At what point do
you call that a pattern?
Yorgi hauls himself upright — annoyed, energized. He taps a
device on his forearm.
JEFF (CONT’D)
You ever notice you only chase
power when you’re scared?
The lab RESPONDS. A low mechanical WHIRR.
Energy spirals in midair — blue, unstable — forming a
circular distortion.
JEFF (CONT’D)
Just once, I’d like you to survive
an upgrade.
Jeff squints.
JEFF (CONT’D)
I’m scanning it.
I’m getting… nothing.
Yorgi beams with pride.
YORGI
The greatest invention in the
cosmos. Across all dimensions.
Possibly time.
JEFF
That narrows it down to everything.
YORGI
I don’t know what it does yet.
JEFF
That’s not reassuring.
The energy intensifies. The air pulls inward.
JEFF (CONT’D)
Please tell me that’s intentional.
YORGI
I will let you know shortly.
The pull becomes violent.
The wall behind them RUPTURES, debris blasting inward.
The vortex ROARS.
Yorgi grabs for a railing — barely holding on.
Then—
An unmistakable sound echoes through the lab—
A TOILET FLUSH.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Wait— I wasn’t ready!
He’s ripped into the swirling light.
The vortex snaps shut.
Silence.
Dust settles. Jeff floats there. Alone.
JEFF
Every time.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Action","Adventure"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Ice Cream Heist Gone Awry
INT. ICE CREAM TRUCK – DAY
The truck is still. Too still. Benny lowers his binoculars,
energized.
BENNY
Alright, gentlemen.
I believe we are fully prepared for
today’s financial liberation.
The goons exchange a look.
GOON #1
We have… a minor situation.
Benny smiles without looking at him.
BENNY
Is it nerves?
Because that’s just fear wearing
pajamas.
GOON #1
No, sir.
We’ve got a flat tire.
A beat.
GOON #1 (CONT’D)
And it’s “cold feet.”
Benny turns slowly.
BENNY
Cold… feet.
His hand drifts casually to his jacket.
ZAP.
Goon #2 jolts in his seat.
GOON #2
I didn’t say anything, man!
BENNY
That was for atmosphere.
Benny leans forward, voice rising just enough to curdle the
air.
BENNY (CONT’D)
You were assigned one task.
Watch the truck.
GOON #2
I was watching it!
BENNY
Apparently not with your eyes.
He gestures wildly.
BENNY (CONT’D)
I can’t watch the bank and watch
the truck at the same time!
I’m not ambidangerous!
GOON #1 opens his mouth — stops himself. Glances at Goon #2,
who shakes his head frantically.
Goon #1 turns to the security monitors, scrubs backward.
On screen: TIMMY, stabbing the tire like he’s in a prison
yard. Benny squints.
BENNY (CONT’D)
Who is that?
GOON #1
Some kid.
Looks like he listens to angry
music.
Benny straightens.
BENNY
That kid just delayed my bank job.
Every time I’m five minutes from
respect, something like this
happens.
He stands, pacing the narrow aisle.
BENNY (CONT’D)
New plan.
We find the kid.
GOON #1
Boss… he’s like ten.
BENNY
And he slashed my tire.
That settles it.
BENNY (CONT’D)
Send everyone.
GOON #1
Everyone?
BENNY
I want him brought to me alive.
So I can scare him.
Then traumatize him.
Then—
A smile creeps in.
BENNY (CONT’D)
-kill him.
On another monitor, the bank security resets.
A timer quietly ticks down.
GOON #1
That seems… resource-heavy.
GOON #2
We could… send, like, two guys?
ZAP.
BENNY
I said everyone! I’m gonna skim him
like a turkey!
GOON #1
You mean—
ZAP.
Goon #2 convulses.
GOON #2
Please— I didn’t—!
BENNY
(interrupting, satisfied)
That one was preventative.
Benny leans over the monitor, watching Timmy freeze-frame mid-
stab.
BENNY (CONT’D)
Nobody sabotages Benny.
He straightens his suit.
BENNY (CONT’D)
Especially not a kid with
cholesterol.
Outside, the ice cream truck CREAKS.
The flat tire finally gives out completely.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
The Cold Calculus of Destruction
INT. ECLIPSOID’S COCKPIT – NIGHT
Low light. Controlled. Alive.
Holographic planets rotate slowly through the air — each
tagged with pulsing red markers. Some flicker. Some are
already gone.
At the center: Eclipsoid, seated high above the deck.
His face remains hidden. Only his eyes glow — patient,
evaluating.
One planet expands in the hologram. Vortexian children run
through a market. Laughter. Color.
Its surface fractures in real time.
Eclipsoid taps the armrest.
Once. Twice. A readout appears beside the planet:
INTELLIGENCE ASSESSMENT: 74%
Eclipsoid studies it. A fraction too long. The number
stabilizes.
74%.
ECLIPSOID
So close.
The tapping stops.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
Yet still… insufficient.
The hologram pauses. Awaits judgment.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
Seventy-five is the minimum.
A clawed finger hovers over a red command glyph.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
But effort was made.
He presses it.
The planet’s image COLLAPSES, folding inward like a dying
star.
Eclipsoid rises.
He moves through the command deck — soldiers lining the aisle
instinctively straighten as he passes. None speak. None
breathe too loudly.
At the center of the chamber stands the COREBREAKER.
Not massive — precise. Contained. Wrong. It pulses with a
slow, organic rhythm.
Eclipsoid places his hand against it. The weapon responds.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
Evolution does not ask permission.
Energy ripples through the chamber. Consoles hum louder.
Soldiers brace without being told.
The Corebreaker’s glow intensifies. Nearby holograms distort
— planets warping, cores destabilizing.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
What they call poison…
is simply soil awaiting seed.
The hologram shifts.
VORTEXIA fills the chamber — alive, vibrant, unaware.
Eclipsoid circles it slowly.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
This world believes itself
complete.
A beat.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
It is mistaken.
He lifts a staff-like control — ancient, ceremonial — and
slots it into the Corebreaker.
The weapon locks. A deep vibration rolls through the ship.
Soldiers move instantly toward their dropships — disciplined,
unquestioning.
One SOLDIER glances at Vortexia’s hologram.
Families visible. Cities lit. The soldier swallows.
Eclipsoid does not look at him.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
Plant carefully.
The hologram zooms — fault lines appearing across Vortexia’s
surface.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
Resistance only enriches the soil.
The weapon charges.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
Let them struggle.
The beam fires. Not explosive — surgical.
The planet’s crust SPLITS. Molten energy bleeds upward. The
atmosphere bruises, discoloring into a spreading haze.
Eclipsoid watches. Unblinking.
ECLIPSOID (CONT’D)
Silence always follows.
The planet begins to fold in on itself.
The chamber goes quiet. Even the Corebreaker’s pulse slows.
Eclipsoid remains standing.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Crash Landing on a Hostile World
EXT. RANDOM PLANET – DAY
Yorgi SLAMS into wet ground.
SPLAT.
He sinks halfway into glowing, viscous muck.
The sky above is SICKLY GREEN — fractured clouds drifting in
unnatural, geometric patterns. The air HUMS, faintly
unstable.
Yorgi groans, peels himself free with a disgusting SUCK.
YORGI
(disgusted)
This place smells like expired
cheese…
(beat)
…and Aunt Margaret.
The muck beneath him suddenly HARDENS.
Cracks spider out from where he landed — glowing veins of
energy racing through the ground.
Yorgi freezes.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Oh. That’s new.
A THREE-HEADED SLUG inches closer, drawn to the glow. Each
head watches independently.
Above, a bird-like creature DIVE-BOMBS — too fast, too
precise.
Yorgi rolls instinctively — the bird SLAMS where his head
was.
He lands in a crouch. Not graceful. But trained.
Yorgi blinks at himself.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Huh. That actually worked.
The ground SHUDDERS.
In the distance: skeletal remains of a CITY — partially
sunken, half-fused into the swamp.
Structures warped inward, like they were folded from the core
out.
Corrected.
Yorgi’s smile fades — just a little.
YORGI (CONT’D)
(low, to himself)
Yeah… nope.
The slug HISSES. Its heads split wider than anatomy should
allow. The glow around Yorgi’s boots intensifies.
Yorgi hesitates — just long enough to look at the ruins
again.
YORGI (CONT’D)
I really gotta stop landing on
post-apocalypse planets.
He slaps his wristband. The band FLICKS RED — unstable.
A beat.
YORGI (CONT’D)
C’mon, c’mon—
The creatures LUNGE.
A beam of light ENGULFS Yorgi—
—and he’s GONE.
The beam scorches the muck, leaving a perfect circular scar.
The creatures stop. They slowly return to feeding.
The ground continues to crack. The circular scar begins to
PULSE.
Like a countdown.
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Fantasy","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Reality Hiccup
INT. YORGI'S LAB – CONTINUOUS
A FLASH OF BLUE LIGHT.
Yorgi REAPPEARS mid-step, stumbles forward—
—into chaos.
The lab is wrecked.
Sparks spit from exposed conduits. Glass crunches underfoot.
Holographic panels flicker, misaligned, bleeding data into
one another.
A low, unstable HUM fills the air.
Jeff jitters into view — half a second out of sync with
itself. One eye lags. His voice crackles, then stabilizes.
JEFF
Welcome home.
You were gone forty-two seconds.
Everything broke at second twenty.
Yorgi straightens, spinning in place.
YORGI
What happened?
The FLOOR SHUDDERS violently.
A shelving unit collapses behind him, scattering tech across
the floor.
JEFF
Oh, I don’t know. Reality
hiccupped.
YORGI
(defensive, automatic)
I didn’t do anything!
JEFF
You flushed yourself through
spacetime. That counts.
Yorgi adjusts his goggles, already pulling data with rapid
hand gestures.
YORGI
But look at the readings—
HOLOGRAMS ERUPT into the air.
Energy spikes. Dimensional shear lines. Planetary signatures
flashing red. UNKNOWN VARIABLES cascading faster than they
can be processed.
JEFF
I am looking.
I am not liking.
Another SHUDDER — stronger.
The lights dim, then surge back. Jeff’s tone changes.
Flatter. Sharper.
JEFF (CONT’D)
Our planet is under attack.
Yorgi freezes. Just for a beat.
YORGI
That’s not possible.
He gestures again — sharper, more precise.
YORGI (CONT’D)
I would’ve felt it.
The holograms SNAP into alignment.
A rotating PLANETARY MODEL forms — VORTEXIA.
The image zooms inward. Deeper.
Deeper still—
—until the PLANETARY CORE is visible.
Hairline FRACTURES spread from within, glowing an angry red.
Not chaotic. Surgical.
JEFF
Correction. Our planet’s core is
under attack.
Yorgi stares.
YORGI
(low)
That’s… targeted.
The lab GROANS around them.
A machine POPS. Smoke curls upward.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Who would even—
Jeff doesn’t answer. Which is the answer.
JEFF
This is not a natural failure.
Yorgi swallows.
The excitement drains from his face, replaced by something
colder.
YORGI
That weapon doesn’t exist.
Jeff finally turns fully toward him.
JEFF
Someone just proved you wrong.
Silence.
Then—
Another DEEP, DISTANT RUMBLE. The core model fractures
further.
Yorgi exhales, half-awed,
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Descent into Chaos
EXT. VORTEXIA – DAY
A beautiful world.
Rolling fields ripple in the wind. Tall, crystalline grasses
bend and sing softly as they touch. The sky glows with a
calm, pale gold.
MORDRAX’S SHIP descends slowly, deliberately — no urgency.
It settles into the grass without scorching it.
The engines power down.
Silence.
The hatch opens. MORDRAX steps out.
She moves carefully, as if afraid to disturb something
sacred.
Her armor dims — reacting to the planet’s peace, its systems
recalibrating downward. Less war. More home.
She exhales.
A BUTTERFLY-LIKE CREATURE drifts into view — translucent
wings, softly bioluminescent.
Mordrax freezes.
Slowly, gently, she raises her hand.
The creature circles once… then lands on her finger.
Her breath catches.
For the first time in a long while — She smiles.
A faint, distant RUMBLE.
The butterfly stiffens. Lifts off.
Mordrax’s smile fades. She lowers to one knee, presses her
palm to the soil. Closes her eyes.
Listening.
MORDRAX
(quiet, fearful)
No…
The ground pulses beneath her hand.
Once.
Twice.
Clouds overhead begin to MOVE — too fast, spiraling inward
instead of drifting apart. The wind shifts. Sharpens.
Creatures scatter into the tall grass.
Mordrax rises, panic climbing her spine.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
Not again. Please… not here.
A LOW, UNEARTHLY HUM builds beneath the natural sounds of the
world.
Wrong. Too precise.
The ground SPLITS open in the far distance.
Not chaotic — surgical.
Fire erupts upward in a straight line, like a wound being
carved.
Mordrax stumbles back, staring at her hands as they begin to
GLOW faintly.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
(whispering, breaking)
I didn’t— I didn’t do this—
Another EXPLOSION.
Closer.
A SHADOW passes through the clouds — massive, angular — gone
before she can focus on it.
She turns and RUNS.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
(shouting to no one)
I tried! I tried to stop it!
The ground fractures behind her as she reaches her ship.
She slams the hatch.
INT. MORDRAX’S SHIP – CONTINUOUS
The ship LIFTS HARD — engines screaming in protest.
Through the viewport, VORTEXIA begins to tear itself apart.
The fractures converge. The core destabilizes. Not natural.
Mordrax grips the controls — knuckles white, hands shaking.
Tears stream down her face. She does not wipe them away.
MORDRAX
(to herself, hollow)
Everywhere I go…
A final, massive rupture. She PUNCHES the jump control.
The stars stretch. Hyperspace ENGULFS the ship.
Gone.
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Dusk of Desolation
EXT. VORTEXIA – DUSK
A once-brilliant alien metropolis now bleeds color.
The sky burns in streaks of fiery orange and deep blood-red,
as if the planet itself is hemorrhaging.
Towering spires of crystal and steel catch the light of
distant EXPLOSIONS — reflecting chaos in fractured, prismatic
flashes.
SIRENS WAIL — layered, alien, mournful.
Explosions ripple across the horizon. Shockwaves roll through
the city like tidal waves.
FLYING SHIPS weave desperately between skyscrapers — some
narrowly dodging incoming fire, others ERUPTING mid-air,
scattering flaming debris into the streets below.
On the ground —
VORTEXIAN CIVILIANS — bioluminescent, multi-limbed,
crystalline, organic — flee in panicked waves toward glowing
evacuation markers.
Children cry. Elders stumble. Families cling together as the
city collapses around them.
A MOTHER runs, clutching her child tight.
A SHIP CRASHES behind her in a deafening FIREBALL.
The blast throws her forward.
She hits the ground hard — curls over her child, shielding
them as burning wreckage rains down. The child SCREAMS.
In the distance, a COLOSSAL CRYSTALLINE TOWER — once a symbol
of unity — begins to TILT.
Slow. Unstoppable.
It collapses in horrifying grace, spinning as it falls —
— SLAMMING into a central plaza.
The explosion sends a tidal wave of glass and debris surging
toward the fleeing crowd.
People scatter. Some don’t make it.
High above the city — A MASSIVE SHADOW cuts through the smoke-
filled sky. Angular. Impossible. Gone before it can be fully
seen.
The ground SHUDDERS — rhythmic, precise.
Not chaos. Calculation. This is not an invasion. This is an
extinction event.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Desperate Measures
INT. VORTEXIAN COMMAND TOWER – CONTINUOUS
Emergency lights bathe the chamber in PULSING RED.
The floor VIBRATES beneath every step.
Holograms flicker violently — city maps glitch, evacuation
routes collapse, enemy markers multiply faster than they can
be erased.
The room is controlled chaos.
At the center —
YORGI’S PARENTS stand at a massive command console.
YORGI’S MOTHER — brilliant, commanding, barely holding
herself together — barks orders into a floating COMMUNICATION
ORB.
MOTHER
Sector Seven — reroute to Dock
Fourteen!
Move or die! Keep moving!
The orb crackles with overlapping panicked responses. She
cuts the channel.
Yorgi’s father studies a tactical hologram.
Enemy forces advance with terrifying efficiency. Clean lines.
Perfect timing. Too perfect.
FATHER
(low, unsettled)
Too fast.
Too clean.
A warning symbol FLASHES — unfamiliar energy signatures
rippling through the city’s core systems.
The hologram briefly DISTORTS — spacetime buckling.
The Mother notices.
MOTHER
What is that?
FATHER
I don’t know.
A beat.
They exchange a look — fear and understanding colliding.
FATHER (CONT’D)
They’re breaching the main barrier.
The room SHUDDERS again. Closer this time.
The Mother swallows hard… then straightens. Leaders until the
end.
MOTHER
Begin final evacuation protocol.
All remaining sectors.
She hesitates — just a fraction.
MOTHER (CONT’D)
(quiet, personal)
If anyone sees our son —
(getting control)
Get him off-world.
She activates a FAILSAFE. The chamber lights DIM further.
FATHER
We’re out of time.
They stand shoulder to shoulder as alarms SCREAM and the city
outside continues to die.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Chaos in the Lab
INT. YORGI’S LAB – CONTINUOUS
The lab SHUDDERS violently.
Tools rattle. Screens FLICKER. Fine cracks spider across the
ceiling, leaking smoke and glowing dust.
At the center of the chaos — Yorgi, frantic and exhilarated,
works his HOMEMADE PORTAL MACHINE — a masterpiece of genius
and madness built from scavenged tech.
Beside him, JEFF, his holographic assistant, flickers and
stutters.
JEFF
Yorgi, this is not the time for
experimentation!
Evacuation ships are launching!
A DISTANT EXPLOSION rattles the room.
YORGI
Science is the only reason we’re
still breathing,
you floating anxiety disorder.
If this works, we skip traffic.
JEFF
We do not have time for planet
hopping!
BOOM!
The WALL behind them EXPLODES inward.
A shockwave throws Yorgi across the floor. Debris rains down.
Sparks SCREAM through the air.
Jeff’s hologram fractures — reassembles — barely.
Yorgi groans, rolls onto one elbow —
— and GRINS.
YORGI
We’re under attack.
JEFF
Astounding deduction.
Truly.
Jeff stabilizes — weak.
JEFF (CONT’D)
Updated analysis:
Vortexia is not just under attack.
It is collapsing from the inside.
Yorgi freezes.
YORGI
(confident, then unsure)
That’s… not possible.
JEFF
Unfortunately, it is.
Planetary core destabilization is
already underway.
Survival probability if we stay —
(pauses)
Eleven percent.
Yorgi thinks.
YORGI
Double digits?
I’ll take it.
The lab SHAKES again — closer, stronger.
A MONITOR flickers to life — a distorted HOLOGRAM of the city
tearing itself apart. Yorgi clocks it.
His grin FADES — just for a beat.
YORGI (CONT’D)
…Okay.
We’re leaving.
He limps to a corner and taps a glowing panel on his uniform
leg.
A CIRCULAR POCKET PORT OPENS — contained, humming, unstable.
Loose OBJECTS around the lab LIFT slightly — drawn toward it
by the tremors. Yorgi shoves a BOX-SHAPED GADGET forward —
WHOOMP.
It SHRINKS and vanishes.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Pocket of infinite potential.
Still my best idea.
An EXPLOSION rocks the ceiling.
Food bars, tools, and loose tech SLIDE across the floor
toward the pocket.
Yorgi scoops what he can and tosses them in fast.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Fuel. Tools. Regret snacks.
He stops.
Spots a SMALL GOLD FIGURINE — a three-tailed, one-eyed
Vortexian fish.
He picks it up. The lab RUMBLES. Yorgi hesitates.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Sorry, buddy.
He slips the figurine into the pocket.
It BLOWS A SINGLE BUBBLE before vanishing.
Yorgi exhales — steadies himself.
He grabs a LARGE, CLUNKY DEVICE and shoves it toward the
opening.
The pocket STRAINS. The vortex FLICKERS violently.
Alarms SPIKE.
JEFF
Yorgi— that device contains
unstable mass!
The pocket BUCKS.
A SMALL ENERGY BURST throws Yorgi backward. The device
vanishes with a violent POP.
The pocket STABILIZES — barely.
Yorgi lies on his back, staring at it. A rare flicker of
fear.
YORGI
Pocket integrity…
holding. For now.
He gets up, brushing ash from his face. Reaches down — lifts
his GOLD-TRIMMED GOGGLES. They shimmer as he slides them on.
The HUD springs to life.
JEFF
So. Are we leaving?
Or are you attempting to store the
planet.
Yorgi glances once more at the lab. Then back to the portal.
Resolved.
YORGI
Jeff — chaos is just unprepared
triumph.
JEFF
That sounded inspirational.
And deeply concerning.
The lab SHAKES — harder than ever.
Time’s up.
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Benny's Obsession
INT. BENNY’S HIDEOUT – DAY
The hideout is a shrine to obsession.
Flickering lights illuminate scattered blueprints, half-eaten
snacks, empty energy drinks, and notes that contradict each
other violently.
Dominating one wall — A MASSIVE CORKBOARD.
Blurry surveillance photos of TIMMY.
Grainy stills of the ICE CREAM TRUCK.
Red string zigzags in absolute nonsense patterns.
At the center — A GIANT, HAND-DRAWN WANTED POSTER OF TIMMY.
Angry eyebrows. Dollar signs for eyes. Misspelled threats.
Benny paces like a man rehearsing his own trial.
On the wall behind him — A FRAMED PHOTO of Timmy mid-slash,
knife biting into a tire.
Benny stops. Stares at it. Something tightens in him.
He points at the photo, shaking.
BENNY
This little criminal mastermind…
This menace with a backpack…
He points at the photo, shaking.
BENNY (CONT’D)
He thinks he can slash my tires.
MY tires. And just… walk.
Benny turns to the corkboard, eyes wild.
BENNY (CONT’D)
Look at him. Smug. Confident.
No respect for authority, commerce,
or me.
He throws his arms wide.
BENNY (CONT’D)
I want his face on every light
pole, every bus stop, every—
(thinks)
—pigeon.
The GOONS stand nearby, uncomfortable. Goon #1 carefully
raises a finger.
GOON #1
Boss, pigeons don’t really—
Benny WHIRLS.
BENNY
Do I look like I’m crowdsourcing
biology?!
He jabs a finger inches from Goon #1’s face.
BENNY (CONT’D)
Make. It. Happen.
Goon #1 nods instantly.
Benny grabs a RED MARKER and SLAMS it against the board,
VIOLENTLY CIRCLING Timmy’s face — ripping through paper.
BENNY (CONT’D)
And when we find him…
He taps the circled face. Once. Twice.
BENNY (CONT’D)
He pays. Big. Time.
Benny paces again, spiraling.
BENNY (CONT’D)
First we tar and feather him—
like a turkey—
Goon #1 instinctively lifts a hand.
ZAP!
Goon #2 convulses, dropping his drink.
GOON #2
WHY?!
BENNY
Because you were standing
near a correction!
Benny SLAMS his fist onto the table.
WHAM.
Blueprints and junk scatter.
The corkboard TILTS — almost falling.
The goons scramble to hold it up. Benny breathes hard.
Then — stillness.
He stares at Timmy’s face. Low. Focused now.
BENNY (CONT’D)
This isn’t about tires.
The goons freeze.
BENNY (CONT’D)
This is about disrespect.
He straightens his jacket.
BENNY (CONT’D)
Cancel the small stuff.
Pull funds from the next job.
Goon #1 blinks.
GOON #1
You mean the bank—
BENNY
I mean everything.
A slow, dangerous smile creeps in.
BENNY (CONT’D)
We find Timmy first.
The red circle around Timmy’s face seems to pulse under the
flickering light.
Genres:
["Action","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Cataclysm in Vortexia
EXT. VORTEXIA – STREET BATTLE – DAY
Vortexia is at war.
Once-pristine streets are split open. Crystal storefronts
burn.
Sirens wail — alien, layered, breaking down mid-note.
From somewhere unseen —
A SNARE DRUM BEGINS. Soft. Precise. Boléro.
ECLIPSOID’S ARMY advances down the boulevard — robotic
soldiers in perfect formation, armored aliens moving with
mechanical patience.
Weapons HUM in unison.
At the edge of the street — YORGI stands alone.
Black-and-gold armor scorched. Goggles alive with data he
barely understands.
Jeff’s hologram jitters beside him, distorted by
interference.
JEFF
(overlapping alerts)
Yorgi, retreat immediately—
This is not survivable—
A SOLDIER breaks formation and CHARGES. The snare continues.
Yorgi reacts on instinct. Sidesteps — barely — his wristband
FLASHES, nudging his movement a fraction faster than human.
His kick lands. Not clean — but effective.
The soldier stumbles, shocked.
Yorgi follows through, hands moving before his thoughts — the
HUD stutters, then CORRECTS — angles, leverage, torque.
He twists. FLINGS the soldier into shattered crystal.
Yorgi stares at his hands.
YORGI
…Oh. That’s new.
A WOODWIND slips into the music.
A SECOND SOLDIER lunges, bladed staff slicing air.
Yorgi ducks too late — the blade SCRAPES his shoulder.
SPARKS. Pain. Focus.
Yorgi sweeps low — the wristband pulses again, imperfect —
the soldier SLAMS down.
Yorgi drops into him. Clumsy. Fast. Elbow. Knee. Fist.
Stillness. Yorgi rises, breathing hard.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Okay. Okay— yeah.
I can do this.
More instruments join Boléro.
The street FILLS with movement. Soldiers pour in.
Too many. They fan out. Encircle him.
Yorgi turns slowly. His goggles GLITCH — reticles overlap,
jitter, vanish.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Hey— just floating this—
maybe we all…
(MORE)
YORGI (CONT’D)
(beat)
…don’t?
They CHARGE. The music BUILDS.
Yorgi explodes into motion. Blocks a beat late. Counters a
beat early. Fast. Messy. Alive.
A SOLDIER tackles him mid-spin. They HIT hard. Pinned.
A fist rises.
Panic flashes across Yorgi’s face.
Then —
the wristband auto-corrects. His legs wrap. Lift. Throw.
The soldier FLIPS overhead and CRASHES into pavement.
A LASER BLAST scorches past Yorgi’s head. He rolls. Comes up
crooked.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Yeah. Still workshopping.
A LOW RUMBLE undercuts the music.
Every soldier pauses.
So does Yorgi.
From the heart of the city — The VORTEXIAN CRYSTAL BEGINS TO
RISE.
A colossal sphere of raw energy tears free from the planet’s
core, suspended in a FRACTURED CONTAINMENT LATTICE.
It burns blue-white. Pulsing. Wrong.
Hairline CRACKS spiderweb across the field.
Energy SHARDS rain down — vaporizing buildings on impact.
Jeff flickers violently.
JEFF
Yorgi— the Core is destabilizing!
Command Tower just went dark!
Yorgi stares at the crystal.
YORGI
(flat, scared)
That’s not supposed to happen.
The orchestra SWELLS.
The crystal SCREAMS — a sound felt in bone and blood.
The ground BUCKS. The sky darkens.
Then —
THE CORE FAILS.
The full crescendo of *Boléro*.
A cataclysmic SHOCKWAVE detonates outward. Buildings flatten.
Streets rupture. Soldiers are thrown like debris.
The crystal SHATTERS — blazing fragments streak across the
sky like meteors.
Yorgi turns. Too late.
A MASSIVE SHARD SLAMS into his chest.
The impact LIFTS him off his feet — hurling him through the
air — through a building wall in an ERUPTION of debris.
The music CUTS.
Silence.
Smoke rolls through the street. The remaining soldiers stare.
Uncertain.
From the wreckage — Yorgi lies motionless. Beneath cracked
armor, his chest GLOWS — energy bleeding into him in uneven,
unstable pulses.
His fingers twitch. Eyes flutter. He tries to rise. Fails.
Yorgi collapses forward — unconscious —
AS VORTEXIA CONTINUES TO TEAR ITSELF APART AROUND HIM.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Silent Disapproval
INT. TIMMY’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
Timmy’s bedroom is a controlled disaster.
Comic books stacked in leaning towers. Snack wrappers crushed
into corners. Half-built model kits — frozen mid-assembly,
missing pieces they’ll never get back.
Timmy sits on his bed, controller clenched tight. On the TV —
CHAOS. Explosions. A flashing COUNTDOWN CLOCK.
Timmy leans forward, mashing buttons like brute force might
bend reality.
TIMMY
No— no— NO—
Come on, come on—!
His character is OBLITERATED. RESPAWN IN: 3… 2… 1…
Timmy exhales through clenched teeth.
TIMMY (CONT’D)
That was lag.
That was absolutely lag.
Behind him —
The bedroom door CREAKS open. Just a few inches.
A slice of hallway light spills across the floor.
A HEAD leans into frame. MR. EVERYWHERE #3 — Timmy’s
stepfather.
Plaid bathrobe. Oversized glasses sliding down his nose. The
tired authority of someone who’s corrected the same mistakes
for centuries.
He doesn’t speak. Just watches.
On the TV, the game AUDIO STUTTERS — a half-second
distortion. A faint, unfamiliar hum bleeds through the
speakers… then vanishes.
Timmy doesn’t notice. He’s locked in.
TIMMY (CONT’D)
Oh, that’s bull—
You saw that! You saw that!
Mr. Everywhere’s eyes drift around the room.
The overflowing trash. The chair buried under clothes. A
model ship snapped in half, taped together badly.
He tilts his head. Judging. Not angry. Worse.
Timmy suddenly pauses mid-button mash. The game continues
without him. He frowns. Slowly turns. Freezes.
TIMMY (CONT’D)
…What?
Mr. Everywhere doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just exists there
— half in the doorway, half somewhere else.
Timmy sighs, annoyed more than scared.
TIMMY (CONT’D)
What do you want?
Silence.
Mr. Everywhere lifts a finger. Not accusatory. Not
threatening.
He points — gently — at the chair drowning in clothes. Then
the trash. Then Timmy himself.
A small shake of the head. A quiet, devastating: Do better.
For just a beat, Timmy looks around his room. Something
flickers behind his eyes. Almost self-awareness. Almost.
Then —
Mr. Everywhere steps back. The door closes. Softly.
CLICK.
Timmy stares at it. Listens. Footsteps fade down the hallway.
The TV resumes full volume like nothing happened. Timmy
blinks. Pulls off his headset.
TIMMY (CONT’D)
…Weirdo.
He tosses the headset aside, grabs the controller again.
The game music SWELLS.
Under it — barely audible — that strange hum returns for half
a second.
Gone.
Timmy leans forward, re-engaging.
TIMMY (CONT’D)
All right. Round two. Let’s go.
The blue glow of the TV washes over his face. Unbothered.
Unaware.
Safe — for now.
Genres:
["Drama","Sci-Fi","Family"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Awakening Chaos
EXT. VORTEXIA – STREET – DAY
War has chewed the street to bone. Burning storefronts.
Collapsed balconies. Hover-vehicles smashed together like
discarded toys.
Yorgi lies sprawled on shattered pavement. Motionless.
A beat.
His fingers twitch. Pain flashes across his face — sharp,
unbearable —
Then something SNAPS.
His breathing steadies. A smile forms. Not relief. EUPHORIA.
A soft GOLDEN GLOW leaks from beneath his armor — pulsing
from his chest like a second heart.
The glow spreads — racing along the gold trim, igniting it.
Loose debris rattles. Metal HUMS. Nearby fires flare
brighter.
Yorgi gasps — half-laugh, half-groan — pushing himself
upright. As he rises, instinctively running a hand through
his hair —
It slicks back into place, unnaturally neat. Controlled.
YORGI
Ohhh—
(chuckles)
That’s… that’s new.
Jeff stabilizes beside him, scanning frantically.
JEFF
Your cellular structure is
resonating with planetary energy.
YORGI
So… good news?
JEFF
You are now a mobile energy
incident.
Yorgi LAUGHS — sharp, musical, unhinged. He raises his hand.
Gold light coils around his fingers. He clenches his fist.
The AIR WARPS — a low vibration rippling outward.
Glass SHATTERS from nearby windows.
Yorgi blinks.
YORGI
Wow. I don’t even need tools
anymore.
JEFF
Please do not become arrogant in
the first—
A SHADOW falls over them. Yorgi looks up.
A SQUAD OF SHADOW SOLDIERS emerges through smoke — precise,
silent, weapons raised. Their LEADER lifts a hand.
SHADOW SQUAD LEADER
Neutralize.
JEFF
—five seconds.
Energy fire ERUPTS. Yorgi panics. He ducks — trips — SLAMS
shoulder-first into a hovering fruit stand.
The stand SPINS. Alien fruit launches everywhere.
A BLAST hits the stand’s power core.
It EXPLODES.
The shockwave sends two Shadow Soldiers flying.
Yorgi pops up, stunned.
YORGI
I meant to do that.
JEFF
No, you did not.
A soldier lunges. Yorgi scrambles backward, grabs a loose
METAL POLE to steady himself —
The pole RIPS FREE. Momentum carries it forward. The pole
SWEEPS the soldier’s legs out. The soldier SLAMS into a wall.
Yorgi stares at the pole in his hands.
YORGI
…Huh.
Another soldier charges. Yorgi backs up — bumps into a burned-
out HOVER BIKE. He grabs the handlebars instinctively as a
blast MISSES his head.
The bike’s engine REACTIVATES. The bike LURCHES forward,
dragging Yorgi with it. He yelps, clinging desperately —
—and CRASHES the bike straight into the soldier.
Both go down in sparks and smoke. Yorgi stumbles off,
breathless.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Okay. Okay. We’re improvising.
JEFF
You are not improvising.
You are surviving accidentally.
A THIRD SOLDIER tackles Yorgi from behind. They tumble across
the pavement. The soldier pins him, raises a glowing blade.
Yorgi panics — then notices a dangling POWER CABLE inches
from his hand. He grabs it.
The cable crackles violently.
YORGI
Oh no. That seems unsafe—
He JAMS the cable into the soldier’s chest plate. The soldier
SEIZES — then FLIES backward into wreckage.
Yorgi lies there, stunned. Then slowly sits up.
Straightens his slicked-back hair again.
YORGI (CONT’D)
I really need to label things
better.
JEFF
We need to leave. Now.
More Shadow Soldiers advance through smoke. Yorgi backs away,
hands raised — calming, polite.
YORGI
Gentlemen— clearly there’s been a
misunderstanding—
A BLAST scorches the ground at his feet. Yorgi drops the
politeness instantly.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Right. Violence.
He turns and RUNS — vaulting over debris, sliding under
collapsing beams, bouncing off walls with frantic precision.
A blast chases him. Yorgi leaps — Hits a wall — Pushes off —
Accidentally releases a GOLD ENERGY BURST mid-flip.
The blast SKIMS the street. Three soldiers go down like
bowling pins.
Yorgi lands awkwardly, skids — Stops.
He stares at his glowing hands. The devastation around him.
The screams. For the first time — the smile fades.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Jeff…
JEFF
Yes.
YORGI
I don’t think I’m ready for this.
JEFF
No one ever is.
More soldiers pour in. Yorgi swallows. Turns. RUNS harder.
Gold light streaks behind him as fire and shadow swallow the
street.
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Echoes of Destruction
INT. MORDRAX’S SPACESHIP – NIGHT
The ship glides through open space.
Silent. Smooth. Unconcerned.
Outside the cockpit window — the remains of a planet drift in
slow orbit. Fractured continents. Cooling magma veins. A dead
world still glowing from its own violence.
Inside — stillness. Mordrax sits at the controls. Armor
scorched. Edges chipped. She doesn’t move.
Her breathing is steady — too steady. Controlled by force of
will. She doesn’t look away from the planet.
A low RUMBLE vibrates through the hull — faint, distant —
like an echo of the planet’s final collapse.
Mordrax’s jaw tightens.
MORDRAX
(low, distant)
It keeps happening.
Her fingers curl against the console. She hesitates — just a
fraction — then SLAMS her fist down.
The sound CRACKS through the cockpit.
At the same moment, a small METALLIC CANISTER jolts loose,
skidding across the floor.
It spins. Wobbles. Stops. The silence rushes back in.
Mordrax watches it.
Her shoulders sag slightly — the anger draining, replaced by
exhaustion. She straightens again. Professional. Controlled.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
Set a course.
A beat.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
Anywhere that isn’t here.
The stars stretch into white lines as the ship jumps to
speed. A soft HOLOGRAPHIC CHIME sounds. A projection flickers
to life beside her.
Her FAMILY. A recorded moment from Panta — laughing, relaxed,
unafraid. Someone off-screen says her name.
Alive.
Mordrax’s breath catches — sharp, involuntary. She reaches
out. Her hand passes through the light.
The hologram GLITCHES, briefly overlaying the image with
fractured terrain — the planet breaking apart — then
stabilizes again.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
(whispering)
I was right there.
Her voice trembles, barely audible.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
I felt it coming.
Her fingers curl back into her palm, pressing against her
chest. The ship’s AI speaks — calm, impersonal.
AI
Course plotted. Estimated arrival:
seventy-two hours.
A soft ALERT TONE follows — different. Subtle.
AI (CONT’D)
(low priority)
Unidentified energy fluctuation
detected.Course set to a Class-M
planet.
Mordrax stiffens. She turns her head — just slightly. The
hologram flickers again. Her family smiles — frozen forever.
Mordrax exhales.
MORDRAX
Mark it.
The AI pauses — a fraction longer than normal.
AI
Marked.
The hologram fades. Darkness fills the cockpit once more.
Mordrax leans back, eyes closing — not to rest, but to
endure.
A single tear escapes, tracing a clean line down her cheek,
dripping onto the black-and-gold armor.
She doesn’t wipe it away.
MORDRAX
(quiet, resolute)
If there’s one world left…
She opens her eyes.
MORDRAX (CONT’D)
…it won’t break because of me.
Outside, the ship disappears deeper into the starfield —
a lone figure carrying guilt she still believes is hers.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Evacuation Amidst Ruins
EXT. VORTEXIA – DAY — CONTINUOUS
The ruins of VORTEXIA burn. Ash drifts through the air like
snow. Sirens wail. Distant explosions roll like thunder.
YORGI staggers into frame — clutching his side where he was
hit earlier. He forces himself upright. Then moves.
He barrels through wreckage, dragging civilians toward an
evacuation ship.
His once-pristine black-and-gold suit is filthy now —
scorched, torn. The gold accents flicker faintly. Still
alive.
A BUILDING GROANS nearby — cracking.
YORGI
Move! Move! This is no time to—
(unloading panic)
—unless you enjoy being vaporized!
Civilians scramble past him. Fear everywhere.
At the ramp, an ELDERLY VORTEXIAN COUPLE freezes — clinging
to each other, terrified.
The ground SHUDDERS. Yorgi clocks the hesitation.
For half a beat — he softens.
YORGI (CONT’D)
(gentler, urgent)
Hey. Look at me. You make it on
that ship… you argue about this
later. Deal?
They nod — barely. Another EXPLOSION. Closer. Decision made.
Yorgi grabs them both and physically shoves them forward.
YORGI (CONT’D)
I’m sorry— I’m very big on consent—
(grunts)
—but we are officially out of time!
They disappear inside. The ship door SLAMS shut. Yorgi
stumbles back — breathing hard. Smoke rolls past him.
For a half-second, he just stands there — exhausted,
bleeding, alive.
A shadow passes overhead. Yorgi looks up. Something BAD is
still happening.
Genres:
["Sci-Fi","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Last-Minute Escape
INT. VORTEXIAN EVACUATION SHIP – DAY — CONTINUOUS
The ship RATTLES violently. Panels flicker. Engines COUGH.
Panic spreads.
A VORTEXIAN CIVILIAN slams a panel.
VORTEXIAN CIVILIAN
It won’t start! We’re stuck!
A beat.
Then—
Yorgi APPEARS in the doorway, soot-covered, nose bleeding,
eyes locked in. Hero entrance. No music yet. He takes in the
room. The fear. The shaking hull.
For just a moment — doubt flickers.
Then he grins.
YORGI
Move over, mother dearest.
(grins wider)
I know a cheat code.
He slides into the pilot chair. Cracks his fingers — gamer
before a boss fight. Sparks FLY as he rips open panels and
starts rewiring.
An ALARM BLARES.
SHIP AI (O.S.)
Core instability.
Impact in— ten seconds.
Yorgi winces.
YORGI
No pressure.
He works faster.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Up, up, down, down— left, right—
start!
Nothing. The engines STALL. A civilian SCREAMS.
Yorgi slams the console — hard.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Come on… come on…
The gold in his suit FLARES. The engines ROAR.
The ship LURCHES upward as—
BOOM.
A massive explosion BLOOMS behind them — flames licking the
hull in SLOW MOTION.
Inside the ship: CHEERS. Relief. Tears. Yorgi exhales.
He didn’t know he was holding that breath.
Genres:
["Science Fiction","Action","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
A New Beginning Amidst Ashes
INT. VORTEXIAN FLIGHT DECK – DAY — CONTINUOUS
Quiet now. A soft orchestral score begins. Yorgi’s parents
stare out the viewport.
Below them — VORTEXIA BURNS.
MOTHER
Our home… gone.
FATHER
Homes can be rebuilt.
(beat)
Family is forever.
From behind— Yorgi STRUTS in like he just walked off a
runway. Bruised. Burned. Standing.
YORGI
So… we’re all just gonna pretend
I didn’t just become a hero?
Beat.
YORGI (CONT’D)
Cool. Cool. Yeah. I’m humble like
that.
His mother turns. Sniffs.
MOTHER
You smell like failure.
YORGI
That’s the smell of greatness,
Mother. Get used to it.
A look passes between the parents. His mother SMILES — just
barely. The first smile since the evacuation began.
Yorgi clocks it. That lands. He turns back to the viewport.
Fire reflects in his eyes.
FATHER
We need to find a new planet we can
inhabit.
A beat.
FATHER (CONT’D)
That will take too much time.
We don’t have the resources to
survive that long.
Yorgi straightens. Not cocky now. Purposeful.
YORGI
Have no fear.
Jeff FLICKERS IN, deadpan as ever.
JEFF
He built a portal that goes
nowhere.
Yorgi smiles wider.
YORGI
Let’s see what the universe has to
say about that.
He taps his wristband. A PORTAL BLOOMS OPEN behind him —
swirling, unstable, beautiful.
FWOOOOSH — it sounds exactly like a TOILET FLUSHING. NO,
REALLY.
As Yorgi steps toward it, the camera pushes in on—
His side pocket. That faint GOLD GLOW pulses. Not explained.
Just felt. Yorgi steps through. The portal SNAPS SHUT.
Silence.
BOTH PARENTS
We are doomed.
JEFF
At least you get to stay here.
I gotta go babysit that giant baby.
He floats after the portal residue— POP. Gone.
FADE TO BLACK.
Silence.
Then—
MR. EVERYWHERE #1 (V.O.)
So there you have it, folks…
These are my svašta agents for the
O.G.A. A peculiar bunch, yes. But
they’ll do just fine.
QUICK FLASHES:
— Timmy gaming
— Mordrax alone in space
— Yorgi mid-leap
— Benny pointing angrily
MR. EVERYWHERE #1 (V.O.)
As the old Montenegrin saying goes:
“Sloga će biti poraz vragu, a naša
najveća snaga.”
Unity will be the devil’s defeat —
and our greatest strength.
A beat.
MR. EVERYWHERE #1
And that, my friends… is my svašta
squad.
A smile in the voice.
MR. EVERYWHERE #1 (CONT’D)
Now buckle up.
This is only the beginning.
END OF PILOT