Work Text:
Cast.
Grian: Prisoner Resident and trainee at Watcher Co. Impulsive, restless, overthinker.
Lab Workers 1 & 2: Employees at Watcher Co. Low in the chain of command.
Scene 1.
INT. GRIAN’S CELL ROOM, WATCHER FACILITY.
Fade in. A small, white-walled room is viewed from the top corner, as if from a security camera. There is a desk and chair against the wall, with a single battered notebook and a pencil on top. A bed is tucked into the corner on the opposite side with a scratched metal bed frame. The corner is dented, as if kicked. There are no windows. Apart from that, the room is pristine. On the other end is a metal door. GRIAN moves to attempt to open it. The lock does not budge. The lights above him buzz, and the industrial level air conditioning is audible. GRIAN stops attempting to pick the lock and starts pacing.
GRIAN: (frustrated) Why can't they just let me out? Just let me out for an hour. It’s not like I came here as a prisoner. I can't— do anything in this stupid tiny room! Why can't they just—
Someone screams outside the room, somewhere far to his left. Grian freezes, but continues pacing, a little faster than before.
GRIAN: Nope, not going to even think about who that might have been, nope, not at all, this is fine, this is completely fine. Definitely not likely to be someone I know.
GRIAN’s voice starts to falter. He stops walking, but doesn't seem to realise it.
GRIAN: Definitely— yeah. Totally not… I should stop talking to myself, they have cameras—
Footage cuts. Fade to black.
Scene 2.
INT. LABORATORY SECTOR HALLWAY, WATCHER FACILITY.
Fade in. A group consisting of two LAB WORKERS and GRIAN walk through the hallway, viewed from above as if from a security camera. As they leave the camera’s view, the footage skips to the next one down the hallway. GRIAN appears to be far more unwilling than the LAB WORKERS to be walking this way.
GRIAN: Are you absolutely sure that you two are not allowed to tell me what I'm going down here for?
LAB WORKER 1: We don't know either, we already told you.
LAB WORKER 2: We will get our instructions when we get there, we—
GRIAN: Already told me, yes, yes, I get it.
LAB WORKER 1: Then shut up.
GRIAN: Point made.
The group arrives at LABORATORY C. LAB WORKER 2 swipes their key card in the slot once and opens the door.
LAB WORKER 2: (calling) Doctor? We've brought X31-QU4.
GRIAN mumbles something under his breath that the microphones do not pick up.
The group enters the laboratory, out of the security camera’s view. Fade to black.
Scene 3.
INT. GRIAN’S CELL ROOM, WATCHER FACILITY.
Fade in. A small, white-walled room is viewed from the top corner, as if from a security camera. There is a desk and chair against the wall, with a single battered notebook and a pencil on top. A bed is tucked into the corner on the opposite side with a scratched metal bed frame. The corner is dented, as if kicked, and the legs are tinted red, as if rusting. There are no windows. The room is no longer pristine; the covers on the bed are messed up, twisted into a nest-like formation. There is blood dripping across the floor, finishing at the side of the bed and beginning at the metal door at the other end of the room.
GRIAN is slumped stomach-first on the bed. His limbs are splayed out on the single mattress, akin to a starfish. His arms are scratched, and his legs are heavily, messily, bandaged.
Out of his back are wings. Pink, fleshy, damp, they are still twitching even though he is not moving otherwise. Eyes, and eyes, and eyes and eyes and eyes and eyes and are shut around the bone. His shirt is torn, and blood oozes around the base of the wings, out of cracked skin, and GRIAN’s real eyes are glassy.
GRIAN: (delirious) I don’t… it… what’s going on? I don’t…
GRIAN shifts to the side. The movement jostles his new wounds. He cries out in pain.
GRIAN: (shouted, weak) Pearl! Martyn… Taurtis…? I— it—
Pause. His wings flap, over and over. He screams, panicked, and the eyes on his wings open. The pupils are bright purple. The view of the room is overtaken with TV static, and the audio is glitchy.
GRIAN: (distorted) Please— please someone I don’t— stars I’m… I don’t— I— what’s happening to—
The audio cuts out suddenly. A high-pitched whine swells. A click is heard, and there is no more sound.
Fade to black.