\ Realm Beyond - Eternal Office /
“But you know why I thought this was a bad idea, right?” Scarlett wonders aloud, Vic purposefully choosing to follow closely behind her. “I do and I don’t care” Vic replies, their destination soon approaching, “if the realm wants to badger us into killing each other, nothing we can do will stop it from getting its way. It knows what it wants, and it’ll find a way to get it.”
“That doesn’t mean we just walk right into its traps” Scarlett swiftly calls back, a slight anxiety at the prospect of reentering the all-encompassing, bannister-less mezzanine. “I’m sure the realm itself is as much of a trap as this is” Vic replies, following the young blonde ahead of her up a short set of stone steps.
“Then why are we here?” Scarlett replies, turning around with an eager look on her face, Vic stopping just as she does, “why are we doing this at all?” Her head leaning to the left, Vic puts her hand on Scarlett’s chest and gently moves her aside, “we have to sleep at some point” she remarks, strolling past Scarlett on her way to the chambers’ floor. Sighing, Scarlett bows her head and follows after Vic, not wanting to let the girl get too far out of sight.
As a few minutes pass, Vic continues to follow her path from the last visit, entering offices perfectly duplicated from the ones she’d entered previously. “Lead me to what you brought me here for!” Vic exclaims, Scarlett still following closely behind, her eyes briefly glancing at the chasm between the massive stretches of space.
“All hail the king” a voice whispers, catching Scarlett’s ear just as the girl spins around arduously, unaware of her eyes taking on a luminescent red glow. “Who’s there!?” Scarlett shouts, knowing the voice to have called out from behind her, though unable to find anything, not a figure or a face upon her whirl. “Vic, did you hear that!?” Scarlett inquires, keeping her service weapon aimed toward the sound, her question unanswered, “Vic!?”
Unwilling to spend more than a moment glancing back, Scarlett discovers the space ahead of her to be empty, the girl that had once chosen to follow her now having broken too far ahead. “Shit” Scarlett grunts, looking back to the space behind her to find it as empty as she’d seen it to be, giving her the confidence to hurry off in search for her friend. “Vic!” Scarlett exclaims, her weapon readied for war as she shuffles past empty workspaces, still receiving no answer.
“Vic, where the fuck are you!?” Scarlett shouts, her efforts thus far failing enough to warrant taking more drastic measures. With a growl, Scarlett lifts the weapon to her head and pulls the trigger, returning her to the realm above and awake from her slumber.
\ Realm of Reality /
“This is gonna make me look really petty” Scarlett mutters beneath her breath, climbing off her couch and storming through the parlour, the glass patio entrance already open. “Sorry, Vic” Scarlett huffs, pulling in a deep breath before slapping her friend awake, the woman throwing her arms up for protection as her eyes open, the effort to do so pushing her off the patio seat.
“What the hell!?” Vic exclaims, gathering her wits after a few moments, realising that she’d been struck out of her slumber. “I’m sorry- I had to!” Scarlett shouts, defending her actions before lifting the obvious question, “where did you go!?” Wiping the side of her face, Vic lets the question linger, her brain still needing a moment to adjust. “What do you mean?” Vic replies, almost as if she were completely unaware of what had happened minutes prior.
“You just left! I was following you, then I heard something, and when I turned back, you were gone” Scarlett responds, detailing the events as if they were bullet points. “No, you just walked off” Vic retorts, crawling to the railing and taking a seat against it, her arms wrapped around her bent knees. “No, you walked off” Scarlett counters, yet again met with the same refusal as before.
“You just disappeared, Scar. I was telling the realm to show me what it wanted to, then you vanished” Vic replies, a story entirely opposite to that of what Scarlett paints. “And then you just kept walking off, right?” Scarlett interjects, trying to correct her story with information that doesn’t truly fit, her attempts again thwarted. “No, I turned around and started calling for you” Vic replies, her answer prompting Scarlett to turn away shaking her head.
“No. No, that’s not what happened” Scarlett replies, adamant in what she’d seen and how the events played out. “Yeah, it is” Vic replies, her friend turning away with her hands on her hips, beginning to walk to the opposite end of the patio. “Why is what I’m saying so hard to believe?” Vic inquires, pulling herself up with the aid of the bannister before walking after Scarlett, subconsciously uncomfortable with the woman’s departure.
“Because this isn’t a good sign, Vic!” Scarlett shouts, a single porch light brightening their shared walkway as she turns back. “All of this throne talk, and the king shit, and literally taking each other by the throats!” Scarlett mentions, none of what’s listed being largely easy to ignore in her eyes. “I’m worried about what’s happening. I know we can’t actually kill each other in there, but it just feels like the realm’s pitting us again each other” Scarlett concludes, “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it either, Scar. Believe it or not, I’m not too interested in killing you” Vic replies, tacking a slight amount of humour on the end to ease tension. “There are just so many unknowns. Even if it’s throwing some heavy shit at us, we need to try to work with the realm” Vic furthers, meeting Scarlett in the patio’s centre.
“I know it’s freaky, and maybe even downright fucked up- but we’re in there for a reason” Vic remarks, resting her hand on Scarlett’s shoulder, “we’re not gonna find the answer out here.” Frowning, Scarlett gives Vic a nod and returns to the home’s interior. “I still think I’m gonna stay up the rest of the night” Scarlett murmurs, Vic more than understanding of the need to consider what’s been said.
“You know where I’ll be” Vic replies, sliding the patio doors together to cut herself off from the home, the light overhead offering a fair amount of light. Watching Scarlett round a corner and walk off, Vic’s compassionate expression falls to one of worry, the muscles in her face tightening as she lowers the fingers on her right hand into her pocket.
As if she knows what she’s doing is wrong, Vic slides her hand free carefully, a folded polaroid tucked between the spaces in her middle and ring fingers. Close enough to the glass panes to fog them with her breath, Vic lets free a sigh as she opens the picture, an old and discoloured photograph of a small family presented upon its unfolding.
“What are the two of you hiding?” Vic mutters beneath her breath, staring intently into the picture as she lifts it toward the porch light. Off to the side of the gathered relatives, Suzie and Lincoln stand by each other’s side, dressed in attire reminiscent of 1940’s America. In her eyes, the world that surrounds the photograph begins to grow dark, its colour fading just as the photo does, their appearance one in the same.
Within a moment, Vic and the portrait vanish, not a hair left behind to suggest they’d ever been there in the first place. The only sound that passes being the tide that rolls past the stilts their house stands upon, the patio sits vacant, a few more seconds passing before the light that cascades upon it powers down, no motion to trigger it.
= Dream Sequence is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards =
\ Realm of Reality /
“Give the knocking a rest, I’m coming!” Montes shouts, his presence called for by a set of repeated, endless knocks. His hand flipping the locks, Montes yanks his front door inward, his expectation to find an impatient snob stood before him somewhat coming to fruition. “Sheriff West” Montes remarks, his superior waiting on the front patio of his small, trailer-sized home, his right hand pressing down upon the cane’s handle.
“Would I be allowed to come in for a minute if I promise not to fire you?” West inquires, though speaking with a sarcastic tone, his question appears genuine. Biting his tongue, Montes nods, stepping aside to grant the man entry, the space he sits inside of leaving much to be desired. “This is a nice little- thing” West murmurs, making his best attempts at humour as he turns back, “where’s the rest of it?”
Still angry, Montes passes the sheriff, discarding West’s visit and joke by occupying the nearest seat, folding his hands atop his lap. “Did you come here for something?” Montes wonders aloud, his usual eagerness to impress the sheriff surprisingly non-existent, treating the man as an equal for the first time under his employment. “Yes” West responds with a deep breath, beginning to recognise that his drop in has not been received as well as he’d anticipated.
“I figured I owed you an explanation” the sheriff continues, approaching a couch one coffee table’s length away, “I should tell you why I’m not going to evidence.” His demeanour unchanged, Montes remains in his seat, patiently waiting for the story he assumes West has crafted.
“If this goes into evidence, it won’t be mine for long” West clarifies, settling into his seat whilst masking the pain as best possible, “the moment what’s on this tape is seen by people other than us, this place will be swarming with the feds.”
“Why is that a bad thing?” Montes interrupts, his eyelids pressing closer together, “we’ve gotten on this guy since day one, what makes you think this should still even be our case right now?” His lips joining together, West looks to Montes without an answer at first, his default response the best he can manage in a moment of improvisation. “We’re gonna get the guy on the something” West replies, his solution failing to do anything more than earn an eye roll.
“Yeah, keep saying that- I’m sure he’ll run out of people to butcher eventually” Montes replies, beginning to push himself out of his chair. “Rookie, what did I tell you I saw in the hospital!? What did you go out to the car to prove? Huh, what was it?” West shouts, stopping the younger man from leaving his seat any further, “when we see this tape, you’ll see it too. Imagine what’s gonna happen when the federal government sees it.”
“They’d at least have the tools to track him down, maybe put a stop to this before it gets any worse” Montes answers, West’s head immediately shaking at such a suggestion. “No, they won’t. Think about what this country does to keep their interests intact, what lows they’ll stoop to-” West urges, the fear of such calamity almost bringing a smile over his face, “-imagine what they’d sweep under the rug to reverse engineer some superhuman thug from Praireville, Louisiana.”
“Why do I care what happens to a murderer?” Montes quickly retorts, his answer given with the same ease. “Because you’ve got a problem with me sweeping an assault under the rug to keep our reputation in line, just think about what the government would do” West replies, placing the cruiser’s camera onto the coffee table just between them, “for all we know, you might just be giving them the next atomic bomb.”
Silent, Montes looks into West’s face, his own hands still resting against the sides of his seat, prepared to stand up and leave if he truly wanted to. “You’re just trying to defend yourself” Montes responds, taking a brief moment to consider the reason behind West’s visit, “you’re already gonna overrule me in evidence and you want me to think you have a good reason.”
His head shaking once more, West looks back to the camera, his index and middle fingers guiding the small box across the wooden surface. “I’ve got every reason not to want the public knowing that there’s a serial killer with super powers walking the streets because we can’t catch him” West confesses, situating the recorder just a few centimetres away from the novice deputy, “it’d be the end of our precinct and myself. For that reason, I’m not gonna make the decision.”
Confused, Montes finally leans back into his seat, removing his hands from the armrests he’d used to support his initial attempt at departure. “You’re probably the only person with a badge in my unit that would have believed me” West continues, watching Montes’ face lift toward his own, looking him in the eyes as he speaks, “if there’s anyone that I owe the honour of making this choice, it’d be you.”
“You know I want it in evidence. Why give me the choice if you know what my intentions are?” Montes queries, the story not adding up as far as he’s concerned. “Because you’re right. We haven’t caught this guy yet, and I can only tell you we’re trying” West replies, promising to let the decision be left in the hands of someone else, “it may be the right decision for all I know, but I can’t make it. It may be fucked up, but my job is to uphold the integrity of the unit first and foremost.”
Quiet, Montes looks back to the camera, its lens aimed directly toward him, almost like an eye watching anxiously for his decision. “I don’t like what happened to those girls, but I don’t regret it. You let the world know you harboured a predator and good luck convincing the public that you’re looking out for them” West chuckles, coping with the uneasiness that burns deep within him through humour, “You’ve got the stones that I don’t for this, I just wanted you to understand both sides first.”
Looking back to West, Montes remains quiet, trying to read the sheriff’s expression for any ill-intent that may hide behind his worried grin.
\ Paradox /
The road she walks down comprised of little more than flat gravel, Vic walks through the blistering sun in little more than a white tank top and loose shorts. Following a long, wooden fence seemingly crafted by hand, the girl catches sight of a large, multi-family home just in the distance. Recognising the exterior, though its colours appear much more bold and bountiful, Vic sets her travels on the destination ahead, an audible crunch emerging beneath every step she takes.
Eventually reaching her destination, Vic stops at a small, person-sized gap in the fence, a mailbox standing beside her whilst a newspaper lays at her feet. Dropping to her knee, Vic stares toward the paper’s header, ‘June 20th, 1941’ the black lettering reads, prompting the girl to stare back toward the large home just ahead. “Picture time!” a young girl blurts out, the first to emerge from within the home, her arms thrown toward the sky as she sprints into the yard.
“Mary, don’t you go dirtying your dress!” a second woman calls out, speed walking toward the enthusiastic child whilst holding up the puffy skirt to her dress. “You can’t be much older than me” Vic murmurs beneath her breath, a young man of seemingly equal age soon to follow, aiding the young woman in racing after the child.
“I’d buy the little rascal if I were you!” a second woman remarks, the cap just over her head unable to mask the familiarity of her voice or face from Vic’s mind. “Don’t tell them how to parent their child, Suzannah. You’ll have your chance just as they do” an older and taller man with grey hair and black skin replies, a number of other, equally random faces following behind him.
In no specific order, black and white men and women, all differing in age and appearance spill out from the home. “This is a lot less racist than I was worried it’d be” Vic jokes beneath her breath, continuing to stare from the home’s front porch. “Peter, please don’t stain your clothes!” a second voice exclaims, equally familiar to Vic as Suzie’s was as he exits the home, amongst the last few to do so.
“Leave him be, Christopher” an older woman replies, laying her hand upon the man’s shoulder to comfort him. “Christopher?” Vic repeats beneath her breath, watching the last few relatives trickle onto the front lawn in preparation. “Christoper, stand next to me!” Suzie exclaims, other members of the combined families mixing together, coming into one diverse, expansive lot.
Having coupled her hands together, Vic quickly pulls them apart, taking two steps past the entrance having expected time to stop. Unaffected, the family continues to bunch together, staring into the camera just a few metres ahead with steady faces, not a smile to offer, nor a look of dissatisfaction to present. Confused, Vic looks to her hands quietly, hearing the cameraman snap the portrait undisturbed, the moment in the photo having now occurred.
A realisation dawning over her, Vic extends her hand toward the grounded newspaper, trying to lift the bundle of articles into the air with no luck, her abilities inconveniently non-existent. Watching the family disperse, Vic sets her eyes upon a boy no older than six years old, sneaking through uncut grass to reach him. “Hey, kid” Vic whispers, watching the boy pick at the pedals of a flower as she kneels before him, “hey!”
Her call for the boy’s attention unanswered, Vic reaches for his shirt sleeve, attempting to tug at the loose cloth that falls from his arm. “Hey, ki-!” Vic grunts again, her hand passing not only through the cotton of the young boy’s shirt, but his arm entirely, reaching the opposite side with no effect. “Peter, come in for lunch!” the man she knows to be Lincoln exclaims, ushering the boy unknowingly stood beside Vic through the front door.
More confused than she was a moment prior, Vic lifts herself off the ground, watching the boy hurry off as Lincoln watches, unable to miss Vic from where he stands. Expecting to be discovered, Vic watches Lincoln step aside, allowing Peter to pass before joining him inside, completely disregarding Vic’s presence as if she had none.
Her mouth slightly ajar, Vic takes a second look around the yard, a tree with a tire swing and a large garden just half a kilometre away all the land has to offer beside the home itself. Able to feel the summer heat graze her pale skin, Vic throws her hands outward, a ghost to a world sentenced to the history books by her era.
Speechless, Vic stares down the road she’d travelled to reach the home, a perfect view of what lies ahead from the incline she stands atop of. In the near distance, Vic notices a figure dressed in all black clothing, its pose aimed directly opposite her own. Lifting one hand into the air, the figure makes a gesture in Vic’s direction and vanishes, the colour of the home and accompanying yard beginning to fade along with her.
Replacing the bright, mid-day sun, the moonlight shines over the Arabian Sea as Vic returns from her travels, the suddenness of how she’d been escorted from the pass bringing with it a brief struggle. Suddenly touching upon her hardwood patio, Vic stumbles backward, tumbling into the bannister before sliding to the ground, exiting her paradox with as many questions as she’d entered with.
\ Realm of Reality /
“What are you doing here?” Lincoln inquires, an obviously defensive tone in his voice, the gesture on which amuses the woman across from him. “Please, I could ask you the same thing” Suzie replies, her lip curling as the smile on her face is replaced by a grimace, “you’re supposed to be dead, brother.”
“And you’re supposed to be ruling the realm beyond” Lincoln quickly retorts, a quick glance given toward Razul and Kazro, unintimidated by their silence. “Then I guess we both have some things to explain” Suzie replies, summoning a bright, burning red blade from thin air. “I’ll ask you again, Suzie” Lincoln remarks, his own dagger readied, “what are you doing here?”
“I found out I had company in the realm above” Suzie responds, yet to move a muscle in her brother’s direction, reluctant to pursue war without intel. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t take you for the child-type” Suzie reiterates, gesturing to the puzzled and tortured teens with her chin. “They’re my pawns” Lincoln replies, watching Suzie’s eyes narrow from intrigue, “they’ll set me up to take the king.”
Humoured by the answer, Suzie lets a laugh escape her lungs, lowering her blade for the slightest moment. Offered an opening, Lincoln lunges forward, directing his blade at Suzie’s chest unsuccessfully, her moment of weakness proving to be for show as she leaps aside, dodging his blow. “Of course you think that shit would work” Suzie grunts, her dagger prepared once more.
“What do you mean by that?” Lincoln inquires, yet again subjected to being the source of Suzie’s laughter. “You go through all these hoops and jumps for the dumbest reasons” Suzie remarks, the pair beginning to circle the room, each daring the other to jump first. “Leave it to little miss impatience to just jump into things without a plan” Lincoln replies, his mockery only further amusing the woman.
“Oh, I have a plan” Suzie replies, hunching toward the ground as their circle proceeds. “I kill you, then I kill the girls, then I take what’s mine” Suzie comments, now becoming the one responsible for making Lincoln laugh, “all you’ve gotta know is the line of descent, brother.”
“So, all you’re interested in is the girls outliving me- I see” Lincoln replies, his eyes pressing closer together, “why drug them on the plane then?”
“I didn’t know you were still around until they made it to the beach” Suzie replies, stopping the circle as she shrugs, “I also didn’t know the plane was the last tragedy. I figured they’d passed that part by then.”
“I see. We have our chess board set up according to plan, and now we’re all waiting for someone to make the first move” Lincoln replies, a sudden wave of electricity coursing through his blade, “I guess we’d better start the game.”
“Razul, Kazro- let me finish this” Suzie orders, allowing the brutes to return themselves to the realm beyond, only the siblings left to settle the differences they’d created. “Are you gonna try to stab me in the back again?” Lincoln inquires, watching Jared hurry across the room, shielding Rachel behind himself. “Mortals” Lincoln scoffs, taking his eye off the ball for just a moment as he shakes his head, a genuine opening handed to Suzie on a silver platter.
Swiping at the man’s chest, Suzie draws Lincoln’s focus back onto the fight, the room illuminated in vibrant red and blue colours, following the sibling that displays them. “We used to make such a good team, Suzie” Lincoln grunts, his eyes turning a solid blue as he steps forward, “we could’ve done great things!”
His blade barely grazing her shoulder, Lincoln misses his second shot, the woman responding as he’d expect. “One of us needed to die, Lincoln- I wasn’t going to let it be me” Suzie responds, dodging a second, more surprising attack as Lincoln lunges forward, taking the opportunity to make a second gash in the man’s chest. “Ah, you bitch!” Lincoln exclaims, his eyes and dagger briefly turning red in a moment of anger, soon fading back to blue, “how’d you even make it out of purgatory!?”
“Nice try, Christopher” Suzie mocks, slashing at his wrist as he makes a third attempt at her, failing just as he had the prior two times. “You’ll be heading there soon enough anyway” Suzie remarks, the man standing before the exit in a fit of rage, “I’m not giving you a way out.”
His angered expression soon turning to horror, Lincoln’s tunnel vision subsides, the vibrant blue in his eyes fading as he looks to Rachel’s bed, his prisoners absent. Taking her eye off the goal, Suzie peers toward the bed with a smile, the red in her eyes fading all the same. “Hahaha! Look at that!” Suzie exclaims, watching Lincoln frantically pan around the room, fearing the worst.
“Fuck it, I can’t kill you now!” Suzie exclaims, releasing her dagger to the realm its originated from, replacing her hold on its handle with a wave of her hand, “I wanna see what happens next!” Basking in Lincoln’s troubles, Suzie snaps her fingers together, vanishing into thin air just as her mercenaries had. His adrenaline subsiding, Lincoln clutches at his chest as he makes a break for the bunker’s exit, ascending to ground level in a panicked haze.
“No, no no no no no no no” Lincoln whispers, hands pressing against each side of his head, not a sight of either teen. Only able to follow the footprints left in the grass until he reaches the parkway, Lincoln’s brief trail runs cold, the teenagers having slipped from his grasp just as the realm itself once had.
== Dream Sequence ==