Young Writers Society

Authors note: I know nothing about this format, and have not edited this also i am bad at dialouge. C/T means Cut To.

Fade into an abandoned warehouse. A makeshift lab is set up, centered around a stasis tank where a girl floats. She is wearing a skintight dark blue suit, with only her eyes exposed and a gold muzzle over her mouth. Quills covering her forearms and head. She has Fins on her back and face, and webbing between her fingers. The lab is swarming with people working on dissecting some dark metallic tech. Some of the pieces glow a soft purple. In front of the tank stands Cory, looking at some screens, a blue glow illuminating his face.

C/T a view from the rafters. A dark shape moves across the frame

C/T phobias face, his mask covers his face, leaving only his mouth exposed, which is lined with two pairs of sharp fangs. His red eyes are seen faintly through the mesh lenses. The lenses glow red against his metallic black mask

PHOBIA: (quietly): eyes on the target.

SYNTHESIS: (over com.)how many are we dealing with?

PHOBIA: looks like at least twenty. You take the crowd and blast the prisoner out. I’ll handle the ringleader.

C/T Synthesis standing outside the building. he pulls his dark purple mask up and the seam down the front of his face seals. The opaque lenses over his eyes start glowing, one yellow and one blue, mimicking his natural eye colors.

SYNTHESIS: sounds like a plan, V. don’t forget to adjust your lenses

C/T phobia rolls his eyes, flicking a dial on the side of his mask, turning off the green glow over his eyes.

PHOBIA: yeah, yeah.

SYNTHESIS: going in, in one, two, three!

C/T there is a shrill noise as Synthesis blasts through the wall. he raises his hands around which powerful sound waves can be seen

Workers turn towards Synthesis drawing their weapons.

Cory draws his plasma cutter and turns towards Synthesis

Phobia drops from the rafters and land between Cory and Synthesis, flaring his bat-like wings dramatically

PHOBIA: I don't think so.

C/T a close up of phobia flicking his wrists, a knife swinging out of his arm and landing in a metal notch on his palm

Cory: (amazed) A phobia? And who’s your friend?

Phobia charges, lashing out with his knives, the blows are blocked by Cory’s plasma cutters. The two continue to duel.

C/T Synthesis begins to hover, a transparent platform made of sound below his feet. He holds a growing orb of sound waves. Once the orb is about the size of a basketball, he throws it, and it disperses with a blaring note, sending most of the workers to the floor. The workers start to jump at him and he casts missiles of sound out of his hands, the notes varying, creating a sort of twisted melody.

C/T Phobia continues to dual with Cory blocking his strikes with his gauntlets and knives. He jumps backward, dodging a strike, and a worker hits him in the back with a plasma blade. Phobia screams, and his wings go limp.

SYNTHESIS: Phob!

C/T Synthesis screams, opening his arms, a massive blast of sound radiates out from his body, shattering the stasis tank and blowing the windows out. Anybody who was still standing collapses, either unconscious or dead. Shards of glass impale the prisoner and the liquid from the tank spills onto the floor. Synthesis falls to the ground on his hands and knees.

Synthesis crawls over to phobia and pulls the blade out of his back. The suit immediately repairs itself

SYNTHESIS: (scared) Phob? Come on V.

Phobia slowly stands up

PHOBIA: I’m ok Synth. It’s ok.

Phobias eyes widen as he sees the mess around them.

PHOBIA: (stumbling back) No. I have to get out of here

SYNTHESIS: I’m going with you

PHOBIA: (shaking his head) No Synth. you report back, at least then you’ll be safe.

SYNTHESIS: (voice shaking) No V. I am not letting you get yourself killed.

Phobia drops his head in defeat.

PHOBIA: Come on then.

FADE TO BLACK

“Origen point” Title card appears