Deep Legend, DeYtH Banger [ebook reader computer .TXT] 📗

many
responsibilities. You made sure
Larkhill made all its quotas,
especially the oven quotas even
though they required an excessive
amount of maintenance.

EXT. LARKHILL OVENS - FLASHBACK

We see a detail of black and Indian men, shoveling mounds of
black ash from a series of furnace like ovens.

As the shovels lift, we see blackened bones and burnt skulls.

EXT. LARKHILL MAIN YARD - FLASHBACK

Prothero saunters through the lines of camp prisoners.

V (V.O.)
But there was one task you took to
with exceptional relish. Remember
the medical block, Commander? I
believe you called it the funny
farm. You were the one that
selected the prisoners. You hand
picked each one.

Prothero steps in front of a woman who remains beautiful
despite the suffering she has endured. Prothero smiles.

PROTHERO
Her.

As the guards grab her, we become aware of a man that is
staring at Prothero. He is one of the prisoners but we do
not see his face.

Prothero notices the man. He doesn't like the way the man is
staring at him.

PROTHERO
You.

INT. TRAIN CAR

Prothero is terrified.

PROTHERO
You! You're him, aren't you?

V nods.

PROTHERO
Oh my god! What are you going to
do?

V
You gave us a choice, remember,
Commander? You said we could
cooperate with the doctors or...

V cocks the gun.

V
Hold out your hand.

Trembling, Prothero sticks out his hand. V lets the light
die for a moment.

When he flicks it back on, Prothero is holding a long, metal
syringe filled with a murky liquid.

PROTHERO
Oh no, no! Please I was just doing
what I was told!

V
Of course you were. Now I'm
telling you to make a choice.
Either you stick that syringe into
your neck or --

He presses the gun barrel to Prothero's forehead.

V
I can kill you right now.

Prothero begins to blubber.

V
Crying doesn't help, Commander. I
remember there was a woman who had
been screaming for two days. You
winked at the doctor and laughed,
"All in the name of science."

PROTHERO
Please, don't make me do this...

V
It's a difficult choice, isn't it?
Certain death versus something that
might be... worse. But you never
know. There is still a chance.
You could survive. Look at me.
Now, time's up, Commander. Choose.

Anger galvanizes his fear and steadily Prothero lifts the
needle towards his neck.

PROTHERO
I'll see you in hell.

He jams the needle in and sinks the plunger.

V
Yes. I'm quite sure you will.

INT. TRAIN

Train workers with flashlights hurry through the cars.

TRAIN MAN
This door's locked!

He slams a shoulder against it and the door gives in.

TRAIN MAN
Holy Christ!

Flashlights sweep over the dead bodyguards. The train man
hears a strange gurgling rasp and he turns, finding Prothero
in his light.

TRAIN MAN
What happened here?

Prothero is foaming at the mouth while a thick mucus bubbles
from his nose. His breath comes in tiny rasps.

TRAIN MAN
Good lord! I need a medic here.

Prothero becomes more animate, trying to tell the man
something.

PROTHERO
Fi... Fi... Fi...

TRAIN MAN 2
He's trying to say something.

PROTHERO
Five.

TRAIN MAN 1
Five? Where's the goddamn medic?

PROTHERO
Room five.

Suddenly, his body convulses and blood pours out his ears.
His body slumps over.

TRAIN MAN 2
I think he needs a priest.

EXT. TRAIN STATION

The station is swarming with police. A stretcher wheels a
body in a black plastic bag out from Prothero's car.

INT. TRAIN CAR

Finch puffs on his pipe, staring at something spray painted
on the wall of the train car: a "V" with a circle around it.

DOMINIC
What do you make of this, Mr.
Finch?

Dominic, Finch's younger assistant, is holding a flower in
his rubber gloved hand.

FINCH
Hmm. It's a rose. A violet
carson, I believe. Strange.

DOMINIC
Strange?

FINCH
I didn't think they still existed.

SOLDIER
Mr. Finch! Sir!

Finch turns as a soldier with a radio steps into the car.

SOLDIER
Sir, they want you at headquarters,
sir.

FINCH
Now?

SOLDIER
Yes, sir. I'm to transport you
immediately.

FINCH
Send the rose to the lab. Also,
scrape a sample of this paint and
have it analyzed as well. I'll be
back as soon as I can.

INT. LEADER'S OFFICE

The door opens and Finch steps in.

LEADER
Ah, Mr. Finch. I sent for you
because what I have to say cannot
be said over a phone or a radio.
What I have to say cannot leave
these four walls. Do I make myself
clear?

FINCH
Yes, sir.

LEADER
I believe in a few things, Mr.
Finch. I believe in god. I
believe in the destiny of the
Nordic race. And I believe in
fascism. The romans invented
fascism. They had a symbol for it;
a bundle of twigs bound together.
One twig could be broken but a
bundle would prevail. That is the
heart and soul of fascism.
Strength in unity. I tell you
these things knowing full well that
they make you uncomfortable.

FINCH
Well, I...

LEADER
You have in fact expressed your
discomfort in several arrest
reports, arrests that were, in your
opinion, "unnecessary." The fact
that you are here, that you are not
rotting in a prison cell, is a mark
of my respect and admiration for
you, for your craft, and for what
you have done for this country.

Finch looks at the ground.

LEADER
It is also because I know you,
Finch. I know what you are.
You're a man like me. A man who
understands when they are given a
job what must be done. I
understand you, Finch, and that is
why I can trust you.

He moves in close to Finch.

LEADER
This terrorist knows us, Finch.
These attacks are perfectly
calculated and they are divisive.
He knows what he's doing, Finch.
He knows us all too well.

FINCH
You think he's an insider?

LEADER
What I think is that this man must
be stopped. Stopped at all costs
and no one, I repeat, no one is to
be placed above suspicion. Do I
make myself clear?

FINCH
Perfectly.

LEADER
England prevails, Mr. Finch.

FINCH
England prevails.

INT. SHADOW GALLERY

Evey, alone in the Shadow Gallery, stares up at the
inscription above the crooked staircase.

EVEY
V, v, v, v, v.

V
I hear your summons, my lady. And
obey.

She jumps, V suddenly appearing behind her.

EVEY
Oh, V, you scared me.

She turns back to the carving.

EVEY
I was reading the inscription.
What is it?

V
A Latin quotation. A motto. "Vi
veri veniversum vivus vici." "By
the power of truth, I, while
living, have conquered the
universe."

She nods.

EVEY
Yes, I suppose you have. This
place is the only universe I have
right now.

V
Does that bother you?

EVEY
I don't know. I'm so grateful to
you -- I just feel I should help
you, you know, the way you're
helping me. I mean, that's the
deal, isn't it?

V drifts over to the big old Wurlitzer, fingers scanning the
song list.

V
No deals, Evey. Not unless you
want them.

She looks up at the inscription as an old blues song begins
to play.

EVEY
I think I do. Part of me wants to
stay here forever and never have to
face what's going on outside. But
that's not right. Is it? That's
not taking responsibility. Not
conquering my universe.

She turns to him.

EVEY
I want to help you, V. I want to
do something. Can we make a deal?

V
Yes. I think we can make a deal if
you like. I think I know a way you
could help me very soon indeed.

Evey smiles nervously.

EVEY
Good. That's that, then.

The blues song curls in the air around them like a heavy
incense.

EVEY
V, you said that Latin thing was a
quote. Who said it?

V
Nobody you'd have heard of. A
German gentleman named Dr. John
Faust.

He spins her.

V
He made a deal too.

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - DAY

The church doors have opened with the flow of parishioners as
the final mass of the day has ended.

The tide slowly pours out onto the sidewalk, separating
around the clumps of people that conglomerate to network and
gossip.

Church bells toll in the orange dusk above them.

Helen Heyer, a woman whose spite and guile are hidden behind
her looks and clothes she drapes them with, charges into the
gossipers, her trophy husband in tow, a timid looking man
that we recognize as Conrad Heyer.

CONRAD
Hello, Rosemary. Derek, how --

Helen's head snaps over at the mention of the name.

HELEN
Derek!

She pushes past Conrad, giving Derek Almond an exuberant kiss
on both cheeks.

HELEN
Darling, how are you? Hello,
Rosemary.

Always behind her husband, Rosemary Almond smiles nervously
as she straightens her drab church dress.

ROSEMARY
Hello.

DEREK
It's so good to see you. Since
this bloody terrorist business, the
old man has me literally chained to
the office.

Helen pouts at him.

HELEN
Oh, you poor dear.

Derek taps the bottom of his cigarette box, drawing one with
his lips.

DEREK
It comes with the job. How are
things in the Eye, Conrad?

CONRAD
Well, we've been working some bugs
out of the new Mark IX fiber optic
network, actually --

HELEN
Oh, Conrad, don't be such a bloody
bore. Do tell us about the
terrorist, Derek. Is it true he
blew up Big Ben and the old Bailey?

DEREK
I'm afraid so. We're dealing with
a pathological psychotic in the
most extreme case. We'll catch him
though. I promise.

Helen rubs her white sable against her body.

HELEN
Oh, it sounds dreadfully exciting.
Aren't you glad you've got such a
ruthless, implacable brute for a
husband, Rosemary?

ROSEMARY
Yes, well --

HELEN
Believe me, you're lucky. You
could be struck with a professional
peeping tom like Conrad. England's
highest paid voyeur, aren't you
darling?

CONRAD
Helen, I think we'd better --

HELEN
Oh yes, of course. We have to get
back so the little pervert can
watch what the neighbors do after
Sunday lunch. He's so exciting.

Derek laughs as they climb into their car.

HELEN
Ciao!

DEREK
Goodbye, Helen. Conrad.

Rosemary waves as it pulls off.

ROSEMARY
She's a bit hard on him, isn't she?

Derek sneers at her.

DEREK
Until you're half the woman of
Helen's sophistication, I'd keep
your little mouth shut.

He throws the cigarette at her feet.

DEREK
Really, just look at the way you
dress.

INT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY

From above, a hand sweeps aside the red plush curtain.

LILLIMAN
Ah, there they go. My happy and
contented flock. Spiritually
refreshed and ready to face the
world again.

Bishop Anthony Lilliman is a slender man of pious elegance
with a warm, beautiful smile.

He turns from the window to his valet, Dennis, as Derek and
Rosemary get in their car.

LILLIMAN
Did you enjoy the sermon today,
Dennis?

DENNIS
Very inspiring, your grace. Though
the segue of the forces of Satan
among us did strike me as a bit of
a curious digression.

He whisks a lint brush over the Bishop's robes before putting
them away.

LILLIMAN
Hmm, yes. A trifle purple, I
thought. Still, Fate wanted it
included and who are we to question
the will of the almighty, miserable
sinners that we are?

A gentle smile spreads across his mouth.

LILLIMAN
And speaking of sin, I wonder which
of the seven deadlies the good lord
will see fit to tempt me with
today.

Dennis finishes with the Bishop's robes and sweeps the closet
door shut.

DENNIS
Perhaps pride, your grace.

Lilliman chuckles.

LILLIMAN
I was thinking of something a
little less ethereal. Has the
young lady arrived?

DENNIS
The agency informed me she'll be
here directly. However, there was
a mixup. It's not one of the usual
girls. She's a little older.

LILLIMAN
Oh dear. Oh dear. Not too old, I
trust?

DENNIS
They promise me she's no more than
fifteen.

LILLIMAN
Fifteen, hmm.

The Bishop rubs his cheek, ponderously.

LILLIMAN
Ah well, if Job could bear his
disappointments, I suppose I must
have the good grace to bear mine.
Show her in when she arrives.

DENNIS
Yes, your grace.

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - NIGHT

A pair of headlights melt through the heavy night's fog as a
taxicab pulls into the circle drive.

INT. BISHOP'S QUARTERS

Dennis peers into the Bishop's living quarters.

DENNIS
The young lady, your grace.

LILLIMAN
Oh my!

Standing next to Dennis is Evey, wearing a frilly pink summer
dress, pigtails and bows and white ruffled socks.

LILLIMAN
And to think I doubted your
loveliness for even an instant.
Mea culpa, my child, mea culpa.
You are a vision. An angel.

Evey smiles awkwardly.

EVEY
Uh... thank you.

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - NIGHT

A shadow begins moving across the manicured grounds borne on
the thick mist like a dark phantom. V glides toward the
rectory, cloak undulating against the dark, wet wind.

INT. BISHOP'S BEDROOM

It is extravagantly furnished, somewhere between posh and
pimp. The