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Season 2 Finale
> 22nd May, 2031 < “Honey, don’t-” Hugh sighs, looking disapprovingly at his wife as she bums a cigarette off a nearby officer, his exhausted plea cut short by her stern response. “Keep your dirty-fucking-words away right now, Hugh” Anne snaps back, striking a light to the end of the tobacco stick as her husband gives into the demand, forfeiting the conversation as he returns his eyes to the quiet road ahead, joining the rest of the group in doing so. Surrounding the street light-illuminated street as the clock passes midnight, officers in unspecific uniforms surround the road, waiting for the arrival of the young woman they’ve been tasked with leading away in handcuffs. Whilst the Stewart parents stand at the bottom of the Carrion household’s front steps, the eldest Nurse folks occupy the steps a few paces from the top, unable to keep themselves from passing a glance at their son’s vehicle every few minutes. Sitting in the driver’s seat with one foot one the ground and the other resting on the vehicle’s floor mat, Caden watches the road ahead through his windshield, eagerly waiting to bring justice to his girlfriend’s senseless killer. Out of the corner of his eye, Caden returns the glance to his parents, meeting their eyes before presenting them with the closest thing to a smile he can offer, wanting to prepare himself for the weight that he anticipates being pulled off his chest any moment now. Stood at the top of the Carrion household’s top step, Andrew stands in wait with his arms crossed, the woman he’d come to devote his heart to standing by him just as she always has. “Everything’s going to work itself out” Elaine whispers, resting one hand on the man’s shoulder whilst holding his hand with the other, her words giving the grieving father the only source of hopefulness he can carry. Weakly freed from its latch, the front door’s locks undo as a soft voice speaks up, prompting both the parental figures to turn back. “Daddy?” Olivia whispers, stepping onto the front step in her onesie pajamas, a teddy bear carried in her right hand as she rubs her eyes. “”Liv, go to bed sweetie” Elaine begins to whisper, only for Andrew to release his arms from their coupling and drop to his knee, letting the girl walk into his arms before picking her up. Surrendering her request, Elaine keeps quiet as the father cradles his youngest daughter in both arms, pressing the side of his head against hers as he resumes his patient wait for their final family member to return. “Daddy, where’s Sophie?” the young girl asks, wrapping her arms around her father’s neck as she yawns, the teddy bear sitting in her lap as she rests her head against her pop’s chest. With the most disheartened looks they can muster, the Nurse and Stewart parents hide their sorrow for the innocence they know will be lost by the end of the night, only able to feel sorry that they can’t keep the girl from experiencing the pain they know awaits. Pressing his lips together, Andrew keeps himself composed as he stares straight ahead, trying to rid himself of any indication that everything’s not alright. “She’s going away for a while, honey” he answers honestly, only able to shut his eyes tightly as the little girl follows her question up with another, nearly breaking the man she sits in the loving hold of. “When is she coming back?” Olivia replies, forced to wait as her father forces away the heartbreak he wishes not to show her, Elaine’s inability to hold herself together forcing her to turn away and return to the home, not wanting the sweet girl she’d never known to be anything other than a bundle of joy to see her burst into tears. Inhaling a deeper breath than he ever had before, Andrew parts his eyes the moment he musters the ability to respond, “she’s not.” From his car, Caden watches the conversation unfold without being able to hear anything, only needing to see the look of intense concentration on the father’s face to know what’s being said. Stricken to the core with emotion, the young man turns his head away to keep from having to watch for a moment longer, only for the fast-approaching car to regain his attention. “Why not?” Olivia asks, the question being raised just as the first sounds of burning rubber catch the collected group’s ear, prompting Andrew to place his hand against the back of his daughter’s head and avert her eyes. “Because, honey-” he murmurs, a single tear running down his cheek as he watches the lights in the distance grow closer, arriving with great haste and intention, “-Sophie did a bad thing.” Swiping at her eyes to clear her face as best she can, Elaine returns to the patio, her makeup-less face puffy and red from tears. On high alert, Caden’s hand reaches for the side of his steering wheel and twists the key, letting the crowd hear his engine roar in preparation for what may be soon to come. “Gentlemen, be ready” the lead officer commands, pulling his eyes away from Caden’s vehicle, aware of what he plans and neither interested in, nor legally capable of stopping him. Drawing their firearms, the officers take cover behind whatever they can, the barricade of patrol cars that cut off the street from the Nurse residence and lower acting as a makeshift middleman. Slowing as it approaches the final stretch of road, Sophie’s vehicle comes to a stop as its lights illuminate the various blue-striped white vehicles cutting it off from any further journey. “Turn off the vehicle and come out with your hands raised” the lead officer demands through his megaphone, kneeling behind a squad car whilst the rest of his unit prepares their aim. Though slightly-blinded by the bright headlights, Caden pulls his second foot into the vehicle and wraps his right hand around the base of his wheel. “Is he gonna go after her?” Rebecca whispers to her husband, drawing his eyes to their increasingly-prepared son as he places his left hand against the open door. “Oh god, no” George mutters beneath his breath, certain of his son’s intentions though powerless to stop him. Yet to move, the vehicle in the middle of the road remains hesitant to oblige, its occupant remaining behind the wheel, uncertain of how to respond. “Sophie!” Olivia shouts, her eyes wide as she tries to climb down from her father’s arms, though his grasp refuses to release like it would any other time, his tight hold of the girl keeping her from leaving his arms as he responds with a whisper. “That’s not Sophie” Andrew murmurs, only loud enough for Elaine and his youngest daughter to hear, a second tear falling from his eye as he doubles down on his proclamation, “-not anymore.” Through the position of her driver’s seat, Sophie watches her distraught father refuse to release her baby sister through the passenger’s window, a tear of her own falling down her cheek. Through the tinted windows of her vehicle, the wanted criminal looks out at the line of officers waiting for her to cooperate, both eyes drifting toward the dark, cloudy night sky as thunder begins to rumble in the distance. “Nobody has to get hurt here, Sophie” the lead officer responds again, stepping out from cover in a show of good faith, basking in the light of his own patrol car’s headlights. “We’re not authorised to use force unless you give us a reason to- so don’t do that and you’ll walk out of this alive” he remarks, unaware of the scoff the mentally-ill young woman responds to him with. “I can’t walk out of this alive when I’ve already got one foot in the grave” Sophie mutters, resting her left hand over the top of her steering wheel whilst holding the firearm with her right. Looking past the lead officer, her eyes fall upon Caden’s vehicle, the only one of all the cars that line the road that appears to be ready for a chase, a sight that prompts her mind to chase fascination just as the peace-talker opens his mouth once more. “Your family doesn’t want it to end like this” the man remarks, finally saying something that she doesn’t react poorly to- but rather- drops her head at. Almost as if finally reminded of something worth caring over, Sophie listens to the man speak as he attempts to make good with whatever leverage he has to work with, only wanting this standoff to end without bloodshed. “Don’t leave your father living with regret that he doesn’t deserve to have” the man remarks, prompting Sophie to turn her head back toward her home, a residency she knows she’ll never step foot in again. “Don’t leave Olivia without her older sister, Sophie” the peacekeeper adds, earning yet another tear from the driver’s eye with his words, though not for the reason he’d hoped. Looking at the woman beside her father, Sophie takes solace in her presence, knowing she can fill her shoes much better than she’ll ever be able to again. Letting out a sigh, her eyes move to the heartbroken face of defeat that Andrew wears before watching her sister’s face pull away from his chest, looking to her for perhaps the final time she can ever expect it to. Letting out a gasp as she turns away, Sophie wipes her teary eyes as her hand falls from the steering wheel, falling into her lap momentarily before reaching for the door handle. Forced to clear her throat, the cornered serial killer rests her fingers on the handle and takes in a deep breath, holding it as her eyes look back to her family, knowing she’ll never have the chance to stand beside them again. Letting the breath free, Sophie wraps her fingers around the handle and pulls it, pushing the door open as she places her weapon in the passenger’s seat, using her free hand to shift gears. With a nod, the peacekeeper directs one of his subordinates to carefully approach the vehicle, both hands presented to the girl in a show of persuasion. Aware of his presence, Sophie rests her head against the back of her seat as she stares at her family, a sorry look in her eyes as she whispers. Reclaiming her firearm, the young woman lets out a final sigh before uttering her well wishes to the loving relatives and close friend. “Take care of them, ‘Livy” Sophie whispers, nodding in the family’s direction before turning her attention to the intentionally-unarmed officer, her apologetic expression subsiding as she shakes her head at him, “come and get me.” Without a second of hesitation, Sophie turns her weapon on the officer and opens fire, putting a bullet through his eye before slamming her door shut and pressing on the gas pedal, her gear put into reverse as fire is opened. Ducking for their home, Andrew and Elaine lead Olivia into the home as she screams, both Rebecca and George hurrying past the Stewart’s and away from cover as they race for their home. “Caden, don’t!” George screams, unable to say a word more before his son slams his door shut and throws his car into drive, speeding past the initial wave of officers as he follows Sophie’s car down the road, her quick k-turn directing her back the way she came whilst he hotly pursues. Gripping the wheel tightly, Caden follows Sophie around the first corner and into open road, he and his adversary’s vehicles pushing far past the speed their follow squad cars can reach. Whilst some race to each other’s aid as others hurry for their cars, the squad unit disperses whilst the families bundle together, accepting their individual terms in the standoff whilst taking refuge in the Carrion household. Flooded with flashing blue and red lights, the public police shine an early-morning street in their colours, chasing after the teenage drivers as well as their cars can allow them to. = Generation Alpha is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = > 22nd May, 2031 < Rolling through red lights to the sound of displeased horns, Caden follows closely on Sophie’s tail, her uncommon tail lights presenting him with a specific red-shaded beacon to follow. Tightening his grip on the wheel, the man sneaks through traffic at every call to do so, the clinically insane woman ahead of him unable to lose him regardless of the risk-taking manoeuvres she attempts. “Incoming call” the speakers proclaim through his blue-lit interior, not needing to read the name associated with the other line for him to know who requests his answer. Tapping his knuckle against the screen, Caden accepts the request, remaining quiet so as to open the air to the other line first. “Look at Caden Nurse now!” Sophie exclaims, genuinely impressed at his ability to keep up, “you’ve come a long way since last year.” Both angered and increasingly irritable, Caden keeps his mouth shut until he knows the girl ahead has concluded her thought. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but there’s no going back for us” Sophie remarks, rolling her window down as she continues, “you’re either gonna have to run me off the road or get me to crash, ‘cause there’s no other option.” “I can keep up with you until that tank runs empty” Caden responds, the answer one which Sophie had already expected to receive. “And when it does? How’re you gonna stop this?” the driver ahead inquires, raising her left hand into the air and firing a bullet into the heavens, “it’s like I said- there’s no going back.’ Grimacing, Caden shakes his head and keeps his eyes on the road ahead, watching the woman’s hand dip back into the car. “I’ve got five bullets left, and all I need is one” Sophie proclaims, clipping a sedan as she turns off a main road, leading Caden onto the on-ramp of the I-57, “you can do the maths, right?” “When I told you that you should die, this is not what I had in mind” Caden replies, following the taillights ahead as vehicles begin to veer off to the side, at this point already knowing to steer clear of the excessively-fast cars. Rolling her window up, Sophie shakes her head and moves with the traffic as the road ahead is shined with a bright spotlight from the helicopter that follows from above. “I don’t think anyone did and yet-” she replies, her smile losing its strength as it weakly lowers into a frown, her voice following in its deflated footsteps, as if she’s finally recognising the weight of what she’s done, “-here we are.” Peering away from the road for just a moment, Caden looks at the centre console to see Sophie’s name, his eyebrows furrowing as he, too, realises what happens after the chase, regardless of its outcome. “After everything we’ve been through. After everything we’ve-” she continues, her voice increasingly more dejected the more she speaks before concluding her point in a mere whimper, “who would’ve thought?” The other line going silent, Caden waits for a follow-up that never comes, continuing to sit through seconds of uncomfortable silence before hearing the reply of a few sniffles. “It doesn’t have to end like this, Sophie” he finally says aloud, only to hear the tears begin to fall harder as what is still to come finally sinks in to the fullest extent. Joined by a second and third spotlight, Sophie’s vehicle finds itself shrouded in light as she breaks into tears, listening to the request made from her pursuer without having any chance at obliging, “just pull over and give up so no one else has to get hurt.” Though fully surrounded by the results of her actions, Sophie laughs through her tears as she wipes them aside, nothing but open road ahead as every car keeps itself from harm's way. “You don’t get it, do you?” she asks aloud, her smile turning into a frown out of acceptance. “I hurt you, I hurt Izzy, I hurt the investigator, I hurt my family, I-” she remarks, her emotionally-conflicted expression turning cold and lifeless, a blank stare held at the road still to come. “-I just keep hurting people” Sophie finally concludes, shaking her head as she looks to her side, eying the opposite side of the freeway with a frown, “and now it’s my turn to hurt.” Looking to the car ahead with confusion, Caden takes a look at his screen to find the call having been severed, the woman in the other vehicle having uttered her final words before turning to the left, taking herself off the straight-away in favour of driving into oncoming traffic. With no care for the consequences, the man behind the wheel follows Sophie’s suit, only needing to follow the circular lights that tail her car without the slightest intent of losing her. Pulling out of her immediate shadow, Caden veers to the side just slightly, watching cars ahead dodge that pair of vehicles that near closer, pressing his foot into the pedal as he tries to exceed his childhood friend’s speed. Passing his attention between the car that he slowly gains on and the road ahead, Caden spots a large set of lights close in from afar, the eighteen wheeler they belong to driving in the same lane that Sophie steers into, making the move her mind had decided on. Pressing his teeth together, Caden gains further on Sophie’s car, the front of his hood now in line with her front seat, the leverage held to make a call of his own. With a look to his own passenger’s seat in the final seconds, Caden pictures Izzy’s hand atop his own, holding it to the gear shift as the clock nears zero. Holding in a breath, Caden pulls his hand from the gear shift and takes the wheel in his full possession, throwing it to the left and slamming into Sophie’s getaway vehicle, knocking it off the road and through a set of guard rails as the consequences to his decision steps on the brake. Blowing its horn, the eighteen wheeler puts on a fruitless attempt to stop, its speed too great to avoid the collision that is now inevitable. His face illuminated in the tanker’s headlights, Caden’s world stands still for a moment, his rapid speed and inability to change course set aside as time pauses. As his hands squeeze the wheel, they’re taken by a second set of hands he knows the feeling of well, leaving him one final chance to lock eyes with his angel before being whisked away to paradise. Feeling as if he were floating, Caden closes his eyes as the world around him resumes its natural plan, returning his vehicle to reality as it slams into the big rig at full force, leaving the ground and flying through the air with incredible velocity, ripping apart and tearing itself into shreds as it screams across the barren stretch of road, slowly crashing to a stop in a mangled, horrifying heap. Filled with the sounds of nightmares for just a few, brief seconds, the road soon becomes still as the semi truck’s horn shuts down, the vehicle having slowly forced itself to a halt. Soon revisited by the overlooking helicopters, their spotlights shine upon a road covered in the debris of a car appearing less like a vehicle than it does a hunk of scrap metal. | > 22nd May, 2031 < Bleeding from an open wound over her head, a concussed Sophie sprints through a thicket that gradually becomes a larger set of woodland, the pistol carried in her left hand as the sun begins to rise whilst dogs bark in the near distance. Missing one tooth whilst another sits in a cut just above her upper lip, the dizzy-minded young woman stumbles her way across rocky and unsteady terrain before crumbling to her knees, exhausted beyond the point of return. No longer able to stand let alone travel, Sophie lowers herself onto the ground and leans against a tree, her glossy-eyed face joining the rest of her head tilting toward the sky, looking into the grey, cloudy heavens whilst the police remain on her tail. Lowering her chin, the slaughterer looks to the ground as her mind tries to recall what’s at stake, not finding much difficulty in doing so, but failing to let it fully sink in that she’s run out of time. Catching her breath, Sophie musters the wherewithal to look back at the way she’d come, listening to the barks draw nearer as the officers that lead them close in. With a look to her scraped, cut and bruised legs, the girl comes to grips with the fact that her life is over, not a single step left to take now that the tank has run empty, her freedom having found its resting place in the exact spot she resides in now. Letting this truth settle with her, Sophie’s face twists back into the despondent wreck of emotion that had overtaken her the night prior, the tears beginning again as she shares her departing thoughts with the world she knows. Covered in dirt, blood and sweat, her face takes to the sky as the police draw nearer, the hand she holds her gun in lifting the weapon to her chin, leaving her finger to sit on the trigger as she steadies her breathing. Prepared to close her eyes and travel to the next life, a final rush of valour consumes her, driving her eyes in the direction of the officers, who now close in just enough for her to distinguish their figures from the flora that surrounds her. Holding off on pulling the trigger for just one moment, Sophie presses her lips together and pulls in a deep breath, slowly letting it out as she pulls the gun away from her neck, staring into the heavens as she does so. “It’s my turn to hurt” she whispers, removing her finger from the trigger and biting her bottom lip, tossing her hand to the side to throw the weapon out of reach, refusing herself the ability to escape responsibility for what she’s done. “Put your hands in the air!” the leading officer shouts out, his words catching Sophie’s ear as she closes her eyes. As told, the girl lifts her hands from her sides and surrenders, allowing herself to be captured and time to expire. | > 22nd May, 2032 < Flooded with the sharpest of buzzers, the concrete-walled passageway Sophie resides in releases her to the custody of another guard, her greatly-damaged hair lighter than the orange jumpsuit she wears. With his hand on the grip of his firearm, the uniformed correctional officer leads the young girl past a number of booths before a familiar face steals her attention away, the man sitting on the other side of bulletproof glass looking to his lap with a handset phone in his hands. Frozen stiff, Sophie looks through the view yet to process what she finds, her distraught father unable to pull his eyes away from the distance. With her hands shaking, the incarcerated criminal lowers herself onto the stool as her father’s jittery head lifts to her direction, his face filled with an inconsolable pain words could never begin to describe. Her shaky hand reaching for the phone, she presses it to her ear as Andrew musters the will to do the same. Silent, Sophie leaves the air open for her father to speak first, his trembling lip fighting to get off anything other than a heavy breath. Pressing the phone between his shoulder and head, Andrew presses his hands together to alleviate the tension that builds within them the best he can, carefully reclaiming the handset as he tries to speak. “We visited Caden’s grave today” Andrew begins, his voice holding a chillingly cold tone as his mind begins to form sentences, breaking the ice he hadn’t yet figured out how to. “It took them a little while, but- the Nurse’s, they- they finally got him a headstone” the man continues, listening to the dead air from the other end of the call, Sophie’s breaths so quiet he can’t hear even the slightest bit of them. “‘Liv just finished fifth grade- barely” the man continues, scratching his eyebrow as the lost year he’s missed with his eldest daughter has given him the chance to look inward. “She had to pass a maths test just to get above failing, and the rest of her classes weren’t much better. She-” Andrew moves forward, refusing to look at the dejected look on his imprisoned daughter’s face, “-she hasn’t hugged anyone since that night.” Having thought he could hold it together for a short few minutes, the swell of emotions that he holds back refuse to be ignored any further, tears streaming down his face as everything he says is accompanied by an open weep. “She won’t even let me touch her because it reminds her of you” Andrew sobs, forcing himself to pull away from the phone for a moment before gathering his bearings, trying to find the question he came to ask. “What did I do?” the man pleas, finally looking his daughter in the eyes with the need to receive an answer, his beat red face expressing the toll not owning one takes. “What did you say? what did I not do? What should I have done?” Andrew lists, stopped when Sophie finally breaks her silence, shedding her own tears as she refuses him the right to take any responsibility for what she’d done. “This is not your fault” Sophie urges, watching the man shake his head at her declaration, “all you ever did was love me!” Violently pulling his head back, Andrew slams the base of his hand against the short counter in front of him, shaking his head rapidly before putting his head back to the phone, dropping his voice to a near-whisper. “That’s not true” the man responds, resting his arm on the same short surface whilst looking at his daughter with his head tilted to one side. “That can’t be true- it just can’t be” he sighs, letting one tear trickle out of the corner of his eye with no reluctance, its stream carrying it down his face. “If all I ever did was give you love, then how-” the broken vessel of a person begins, losing sight of his heartache as he stares behind the eyes of the person he knows committed more heinous deeds than he could have ever imagined, ready to finish his question “-then how could you give back so much hate?” Moistening her dry mouth, Sophie looks her father in the eyes and smiles through her teary eyes, unable to answer without losing control of her breathing. Rocking back and forth as she looks at the ground, the orange haired slayer composes herself as she looks back at the man, their connection separated by a pane of glass that will never remove itself from the equation, “I’m sick.” Remaining in silence, Andrew presses his bottom lip between his teeth and stares into the eyes of the young woman across from him, her silent patience spent waiting for him to respond. Coming to terms with what he sees looking back at him, the man’s demeanour changes just slightly, as if he’d been freed of a burden and accepting of his loss. “That’s not you in there” he murmurs, the subtle shake of his head sending chills down his daughter’s spine, “that’s not my daughter.” Swallowing a gulp of air, Sophie’s expression sours, her eyes squinting as she looks at the man on the free side of life as if unsure what he means. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t really want to, because the person I’m talking to right now is not my daughter” Andrew repeats, grimacing at the pain it gives him to say such a thing, “my daughter? And Olivia’s sister?” She’s not with us anymore.” “Dad” Sophie sighs, refused to say even a word further as Andrew cuts her off, finishing his point with every need to do so. “I don’t know what happened to her, but I know for certain she’s not in front of me right now” he declares, his head shaking as he refuses the inmate’s suggestions otherwise, “she’s not that monster facing life without parole.” “Dad?” Sophie repeats, trying to speak to the man before finding her efforts futile, his hand pulling the phone away from his ear and returning it to the receiver, severing the conversation just as he severs the relationship with his eldest. “Dad!” Sophie exclaims, leaving her seat and smacking the protective glass as her father turns his back to her, returning to the room’s exit as the guards arrive to reclaim the redheaded executioner, “Dad, come back!” Refusing to even look back, Andrew steps into the next corridor and embarks on a new life whilst his oldest screams for his return. “Dad!” Sophie exclaims, wrestling her arms away from the armed men that approach to bring her back, “Dad, please come back!” Prying her arms free, the young woman grunts as force is used against her, both large officers wrapping their arms around her to subdue the struggle. “Let me go!” Sophie cries out, brought to the ground as the guards radio for assistance, her father ignoring her desperate pleas as he keeps his head forward, “Dad, please! Come back!” Pulled off the ground, the prisoner is carried by both men through the door and back to her cell, the buzzer sounding off as she reaches for the door frame, holding on for dear life before she’s ripped away, returned to her imprisonment with nothing but the clothes on her back and the debris of burned bridges. == Generation Alpha ==
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> 21st May, 2031 <
Pressing the ‘lock’ button on his keys as he locks the doors to his black town car, Dennis places a cap atop his head as he marches for the entrance to a grandiose facility stretching into the skyline of Chicago. His thigh-long coat, black cap and trimmed goatee allowing him to effortlessly stand out from the crowd, the private eye sets his sights on the parting doors of the nearest lift, the call of its bell beckoning him. Without uttering a word, Dennis steps into the spacious elevator and turns back, pressing a single button before steadying himself beside a man clearly taken aback by the out-of-place display he presents. As the doors roll shut, the lift remains quiet, a modern desire to keep to oneself overtaking the man who simply intends to make it back to his room, not wishing to interact with the figure beside him before realising he has little choice other than to do just that. Taking a step forward, the private eye presses an unmarked, black button on the control panel, triggering the sound of the lift’s bell as its ascent is stifled, brought to a halt at his request whilst his co-inhabitant watches on, powerless to respond. “How’s the doc coming along?” Dennis asks, coupling his hands at his lap as he returns to the man’s side, occupying the space beside him as if he hadn’t just ceased the elevator’s further movement. With furrowed eyebrows, the man turns his head to look at the private eye, confused as to what’s happening in the moment, unsure of whether to be afraid or content. “Hm?” the man replies, watching the taller man veer back in his direction, glancing down at him before casually answering the man’s confusion. “Your documentary?- About Sophie?” Dennis reiterates, watching a small amount of the puzzlement in the man’s face dissipate, “-how’s it coming along?” Parting his lips, the man looks at Dennis with the same uneasy visage he’d held since the lift had stopped. “Uh- we- we finished it a- while back” the uneasy man replies, slowly taking a step closer to the elevator’s panel, his hand extending toward the same blank-faced button, “we’re having a panel for it on Fri-” “I wouldn’t do that” Dennis interjects, his calm demeanour only raising the anxiety that prompts the man’s hand to tremor, his extended finger lingering in the air as his unhurried reach for the button comes to an end. “Wh-” the man stutters, looking into the intimidatingly-casual stare the taller, cap-wearing man holds on him, a palpable tension filling the small space without the investigator even needing to lift a finger, “-why not?” “Because then you won’t get the answers you’re looking for” Dennis swiftly answers, wasting no time in providing the man a valid response, “you wouldn’t want to put out an unfinished doc, would you?” Opening his mouth, the man continues to stare at the private eye without the ability to speak, simply staring into the blank expression that is placed upon him. “Why do you say that?” the apprehensive unknown asks, pulling his Hawaiian shirt-sleeved arm away from the panel and casually rejoining the stranger’s side, “I already told you that we finished.” Though the rest of his face does not change to match the same expression, the corner of Dennis’ lips arch into a smile, his face staring straight ahead before joining the rest of his body in turning toward the gentleman beside him. Before saying a word, Dennis extends his hand toward the man, watching as he takes a moment to process the gesture before reciprocating it as seemingly desired. “My name is Dennis” the private eye remarks, introducing himself as if the man on the other end of his greeting were an acquaintance rather than a random civilian he’d never met before. “I’m-” the man begins to reply, interrupted by the taller gentleman as he falls silent, allowing the private eye to finish the response on his behalf. “You’re Ian- I know” Dennis assures, watching the producer’s head pull back two seconds before his hand follows suit, ripping itself from the investigator’s grasp as the conversation steps over the line between unusual and uncomfortable. “How do you know that?” Ian presses, quick to inquire more as the man opposite him turns back toward the lift doors, resuming his originally-casual posture as if he were waiting for the elevator to reach his desired floor. “For the same reason that I know you’re not finished with your documentary” Dennis replies, moving his face just slightly in the producer’s direction as he finishes his thought, only passing him a slight glance, “-because your name is on my paychecks.” Momentarily lost more than he was before the revelation was presented to him, Ian finds himself realising what the situation at hand is, and more importantly- who the man beside him happens to be. “You’re the private investigator?” the shorter, casually-dressed man inquires, not as if he didn’t believe him, but as if it didn’t make sense, “I thought you never talked with your clients directly.” “I don’t, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t exceptions to my rules” Dennis responds, gesturing his shrug toward the man as a prompt for the producer to resume his unassuming stance just as he had. “Do you know how unusual your play here is?” the investigator queries, stepping forward to press the black button for a second time, resuming the lift’s ascent as Ian returns to his casual demeanour, “secretly pass the girl off as a saint on one hand whilst secretly hoping she’s sinned on the other?” “That’s not what I hope, it’s just-” Ian immediately argues in an attempt to defend his motives, again thwarted when the taller man’s voice cuts him off, strangling any chance he’d had at making a convincing case. “-It’s just what would sell more tickets” Dennis interrupts, moving his face to look down at the producer’s, a judgemental left eyebrow raise shown to the inferior man before the investigator’s eyes move back to the reflective doors ahead. “Let’s face it, apart from the fact that post-production doesn’t fly by as quickly as it seems to have for your little flick-” Dennis remarks, again looking back toward the shorter man, “-you know damn well showing the world the holes in her story would spark conspiracy theories that would put J.F.K back in the grave permanently.” Letting out a sigh, Ian turns away from the private eye and begins shaking his head, the refusal he unabashedly wears dying off as his stare takes to the wall straight ahead, remaining so before returning to the cap-topped man. “I wouldn’t have spent the money on you if I didn’t think she did something” the producer sheepishly responds, earning an audible chuckle from the other man, whose smile stretches even farther across his face. “Everyone would think she did something if they saw the flick- they just haven’t had the chance yet” Dennis argues, his point proven by the second turn of the producer’s face, though his visual separation is not allowed to slide this time around. “You’re no more a saint for ‘getting to the bottom of this’ than I am a navy seal for not getting caught doing my job- at least, not unintentionally” the investigator proclaims, listening to the bell ring as the shuttle reaches Ian’s destination. “However, I’m not here to lambast you for wanting to earn yourself the most pitiful Oscar any movie could hope to earn- I’m here to give you a warning” Dennis concludes, watching Ian step through the parted doors and turn back, looking into the investigator’s eyes as he makes his declaration. “You’re not going to have that panel on Friday, and you’re not gonna release that doc in three weeks” the private eye remarks, watching the suspicion come across the producer’s face. “And why is that?” Ian wonders back, listening to the bell ring again as the doors to the lift begin to close, ending the conversation with the reply Dennis provides just before the doors can fully meet. “Because I’m really good at my job.” = Generation Alpha is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = > 21st May, 2031 < With his shoulders higher than his head, Andrew leans over the kitchen island with his forehead pressed against the countertop, listening to the heavy footsteps that step along the floor in every direction of the large home. Dressed in combat attire, police move freely throughout the Carrion residency without resistance, the home’s owner doing nothing to stop their search through every crevasse and corridor as the stools around him sit occupied. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, I’m just having a hard time making it make sense” George remarks, standing against the counter as his wife’s blank stare holds on the farthest end of the kitchen, just listening to the conversation that unfolds around her. “Dad, if you still don’t understand, I don’t know what to tell you” Caden replies, seated on the exact opposite end of the counter with his arms pressing against the smooth, stone surface. “I’m not sure it’s that he doesn’t understand, I think it’s that he doesn’t get why” Hugh adds, he and his wife occupying the two seats that separate the two generations of Nurse family members, “why wait this long to say anything?” “Because I said I wouldn’t” Caden answers, again met with a response that sparks the same guilt he’s carried with him for the last few weeks. “And you didn’t think it was worth telling someone?” George retorts, speaking through a composed, yet-disbelief tone that prompts Caden to hang his head, “I know she was your friend, but look at what happened!” Lifting his head, the guilt-ridden young man looks to his father with scorn in his expression, the vitriol he was prepared to speak with kept from leaving his tongue as the thoughts he wishes to speak aloud are voiced by the soft tone of the woman beside Andrew. “Caden didn’t think Sophie would be capable of doing that to Izzy” Elaine argues in the boy’s favour, “and had he known, I’m sure he wouldn’t have waited to say anything.” “Alright, but let’s be reasonable here-” Anne interjects, her eyes drifting from George and Elaine to the distraught and eager father just ahead of her, “-we don’t know that she did anything yet.” Though unresponsive, Andrew’s appreciation in the woman’s hesitancy to throw her support behind what those around him seemingly have becomes immeasurable, an ounce of hope provided at a time where- to him- such a belief is practically non-existent and futile. “No, you’re right” George agrees, taking a single step back with his hands sprawled atop the counter, letting the discussion settle for a moment before engaging it any further, “but that said, we still should talk about what happens if the thing we’re all worried about comes-” “Caden” Andrew interjects, suddenly springing his head up and holding his eyes toward the young man’s direction, redirecting the discussion with absolute ease as the rest of the group follow his guidance, “you said the detective told you why he was doing this, right?” Upon the question being raised, the young man subject to answering gives a simple nod, hearing the request the father wastes little time in adding, “why did he say?” With a blank stare, Caden’s eyes take a stroll across the island, locking eyes with the many gathered souls, all of which turn their attention onto him. With the gentle shake of his head, his hand presses against the side of his face and wipes at the corner of his eye, stretching the start of his recollection as he searches his mind for the words best to use. | > 21st May, 2031 < Letting her hair down as she exits the adjacent bathroom, Sophie steps into her hotel suite whilst the wall-mounted television set shuffles through a variety of different colours whilst playing soft, melodic indie rock. Tossing her suitcase on the bed and rummaging through the assortment of contents that lay within it, she sorts through a few shirts, tank tops and pants before retrieving the pistol that rests at the bottom, taking a look at it before returning it to the case. Quickly returning the clothes to her baggage at the sound of knocking at her door, Sophie calls out a command to the monitor’s colourful display, sliding her luggage beneath the frame of her bed. “T.V, lower the volume by twenty” she exclaims, waiting for a moment as the device registers her voice, confirming her request as she embarks on a journey to the door. “Could they have made me wait any longer?” Sophie murmurs beneath her breath, unlocking the room’s entrance and yanking the door open, already prepared to lambast the server she anticipates finding on the other end of her complaint, “I ordered lunch thirty mi-” Presented with the same lunch she’d ordered atop the cart she’d anticipated, Sophie’s eyes widen at the surprise of the man displaying it to her, his sly smirk worn as he towers over her small figure. “Bon Appétit” Dennis chirps, joining the cart in being propelled into her room, advancing upon the young woman’s turf without caring to ask. “Apologies for the late arrival” the private eye remarks, removing his cap and placing it on one of the hooks attached to the back of the bathroom door, making himself at home as he removes his coat. “As you can imagine, it took plenty of convincing to get the regular guy to, oh how do I put this?- take the day off” Dennis remarks, neatly hanging his jacket beside the cap before stepping in front of the large, open window overlooking downtown Chicago. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Sophie returns with a heart hell-bent on remaining as confrontational as she appears, a sour look carried on her face as her appetite falls aside. “Oh, I’m just passing through, dear” Dennis responds, turning to his side to look through the open window, watching various strings of vehicles venture through an open roadway, all going about their day just as he does his own, “I thought I’d stop by and- oh, y’know- check in.” Her scowl capable of saying one thousand words that she barely has the room in her lexicon for, Sophie opts to use only two of them, her demand made without a care for second thought, “get out.” Watching the young woman’s finger shoot toward the door, the private eye smirks before returning his view toward the bustling city. “Did you know Caden and Izzy were supposed to come out here a few weeks ago?” Dennis asks aloud, keeping his eye on what lies below, a squint taken toward the skyscraper in the near distance. Remaining silent, Sophie chooses not to respond, listening to the investigator’s inquiry and letting it bounce off her like an unimportant thought, unanswered and dismissed. “From what Caden told me, Izzy figured he needed a break from being around you. Well, he just needed a break in general- she figured this was the place to take it” Dennis recalls, finally steering his glance away from the town and back toward the unsettled young woman across the room from him, “-but that all came to a crashing halt when you killed her.” Left eye twitching as her nostrils flare, Sophie grimaces at the investigator as she seethes, slowly reclaiming her composed demeanour whilst incapable of fully wiping away the devious look in her eyes. “I had nothing to do with that” the young woman replies, watching Dennis chuckle as he nods, turning his head back to the city. Pressing closer together, the private eye looks back to the Chicago skyline, taking in a deep breath before replying to the statement, “we’ll see about that.” | > 21st May, 2031 < “He came home from work and went to take a nap on the chair” Caden recalls spinning the tale Dennis had spoken to him for the gathered parents to listen into, unashamedly sharing with the group what he believes the private eye had hoped he would. “He dozed off and- I guess, at some point in the night- he heard the door slam and someone run in” he continues, illustrating the picture as the investigator had been painted. “Fuck!” a young, feminine voice groans in distress, openly weeping in spite of her face not hosting even a single tear, “fuck, fuck, fuck!” Startled into action, Dennis throws the blanket that had already fallen halfway off his body across the room, darting out of his chair before hearing the voice that had entered his home, a frenzy to defend his family quickly turning into a worry for the soul he overhears begin to panic. “Zo!?” Dennis calls out, turning the corner to find his daughter standing at the front door with her back pressing into it, her mascara running and eyes forced as far apart as they can. “Zo- honey, what’s wrong!?” the concerned father exclaims, pressing his daughter’s face into the clean, white t-shirt he’d thrown on before closing his eyes, the free hand he wields used to push the curtains of his living room window aside in favour of looking out at the street for the girl’s source of anguish. “I- I-” Zoey murmurs, unable to form a coherent sentence in her terrified state of mind, the utter horror of what she’d seen written in the expression she appears incapable of hiding. “He said she refused to go back to school. He couldn’t understand why, and he didn’t really care to” Caden remarks, pressing his elbow into the counter as he couples his hands. Sucking on his bottom lip, the young man racks his brain for the next stage of the story told to him, trying his best to recall it verbatim. “A few days went by and she still wouldn’t talk to him, so he just left her alone whenever he could” the youngest of the conversation’s participants says. Beckoned to the ringing of his watch, Dennis places his tablet to the side and presses his finger to the small screen on his wrist, pulling the lever to fire the leather chair’s footrest outward. “You’ve got Dennis, what’s up?” the man asks, running his hand through a full head of hair after scratching his bald face, the slightly-off voice of the high school secretary greeting him with apologies. “Hi, Mr. Eaton. We’re sorry to bother you” the woman’s friendly voice replies, met with a cordial response much the same. “No worries” Dennis responds, letting a sigh leave his lungs as he leans back in the seat, talking through his exasperation, “this is about Zoey missing all these days, isn’t it?” Met with silence, the off-duty officer scratches the back of his head as he crosses one foot over the other, his eyes veering off to the ceiling as he addresses the assumed concerns. “I already send Principal Jones an email explaining everything, and now I’m just waiting for him to reply” Dennis explains, resting his arm against the leather cushion beside him, his eyes closing as he settles into his seat, “Zoey and I agreed that she’ll be back in first thing Monday morning.” Before the woman can begin to reply, a sudden buzzing goes off in the man’s pocket, calling his attention to the device inside as the lady on the other end of the line begins to reply. “Um, Mr. Eaton?” she replies with a slight amount of concern, almost worried to follow her recital of the man’s name with what she’d called to say. “Mr. Eaton, I’m not sure you understand” the kind-hearted woman replies, her pause coming just as the officer retrieves his phone, looking into the screen to find his partner’s name in bold, white letters. “Zoey can’t come back to class until the investigation is over” she reassures, immediately prompting the man to glance at his watch with wide eyes, connecting the two calls before the woman can have the chance to reiterate, “I was calling to make sure you were home to let the police in.” Outright bewildered, Dennis looks back to his work phone as its ringing ceases, presenting him with the notification that his partner’s call was missed. “Hello?” the secretary’s voice calls out, receiving no answer as the man processes what he’s come to take away from the situation, his eyelids only stretching further apart when a realisation dawns upon him. With the touch of his finger, Dennis cuts the secretary’s call off and fires out of his chair like a rocket, leaping to the ground and sprinting up the stairs. “Zoey!” the man exclaims, running down the hallway to her bedroom, its door opened just the slightest amount for him to walk through, the eerie silence that he’s presented with through the parted sliver immediately forcing his mind to latch onto the worst thoughts. Hanging his head, Caden stares at the countertop and stops speaking, the fingers on both hands interlocked with each other as they rest upon the glossy finish. “You can’t just stop there” Hugh remarks, waiting for the follow-up that seemingly refuses to come, the side-eye he receives from the storyteller prompting him to keep quiet. Upon being left with only the footsteps of the surrounding officers, Caden stares back to the table before finishing his remarks, concluding the story without the climax it perhaps warrants. “She snuck out to go to a party, she got drunk and decided to walk back to one of her classmates’ place” the young man proceeds, pulling back in his seat to sit more upright, “from what he was told, they got into an argument a couple minutes later, and it led to a fight.” Listening to a gathering of people stand in the room just above his head, Caden lets his thoughts sink in before continuing. “One thing led to another, she pushed him away, and he fell” he proceeds, continuing to hear more footsteps collect in the room above, “he died, she got in her car and sped back home, tried to forget anything happened and never told her dad.” “I’m confused- how did he not know?” Anne replies, not connecting the dots until they’re laid out for her. “Because she wasn’t a suspect until that day. They assumed he just fell on his own until someone said they saw both of them start walking off” Caden answers, taking in a deep breath and holding it, shaking his head when he follows the response, “she caught wind of it, knew she had no defence, and did what she thought she needed to.” Going quiet, not even the footsteps overhead fill the room any longer as a tangible uneasiness befalls the collective group. Lowering his voice, Caden hangs his head and concludes the story that he was told, unsure of how honest it is, but certain that it fills the boxes he’d been looking for answers to. “He found her hanging from her ceiling fan when he got in the room” he concludes, feeling an even greater sensation of horror replace the silence he’d been met with, “that was it.” With his bottom lip pulled apart from the one that covers his top teeth, Andrew looks at Caden with a blank stare as the overhead footsteps return, their lead taken toward the home’s centre staircase. “So that’s what he meant when he said he ‘knew from expe-’” the father begins to remark, stopping himself at the sound of a group’s audible descent from the second level, their lead guiding them to the kitchen where the family’s friend group resides. “Fuck” Caden mutters to himself, not needing to hear the lead detective utter a word before looking to his hand, which cradles a watch by his side. As if his soul had left his body, Andrew follows the eyes of the Nurse’s only child to the lead investigator’s hand, his blank stare turning into one of disassociation as his mind fails to fully comprehend what answers the mystery has discovered. | > 21st May, 2031 < “I’m really tired of you accusing me of this wicked shit” Sophie groans, shaking her head as she makes for the drawer beside her bed, the ceramic pipe she takes into her possession met with the flame of a lighter. “And I’m really tired of hearing how many sorry-ass tales everyone and their mother’s keep spinning about you” Dennis rebukes, continuing to stare out the window with a judgemental grimace, “when I was younger, they called people like you murderers- not brave and inspiring.” “People like me?” Sophie scoffs, taking a seat on her bed before lighting a clump of weed with intentions of taking a hit, “-you mean a victim? Or an innocent high school student that never deserved what happened to her?” Shaking his head, Dennis looks to the ground in shame, listening to her inhale of smoke whilst his brain makes peace with the delusion she’s indulged herself in living. “Call yourself what you want, but don’t think for a second that you’re going to get away with what you’ve done” the private eye warns, watching the young woman pull her lips away from the smoking pipe with a smile. “Do you honestly think- for even a second- that this doc is going to come out without anyone asking questions?” Dennis wonders aloud, waiting for an answer the increasingly-cocky young woman has no care to provide him with. “You’ll have thousands of these little internet sleuths picking apart every fucking detail to find something that incriminates you” the investigator continues, still not certain his efforts of the prior night will turn anything of use up, “and don’t get it twisted- you haven’t escaped justice until you’ve taken it to court and won.” “Oh yeah, I forgot about that” Sophie replies, letting a cloud of fog spill out through her lips with the rest of her breath, “remind me- what evidence do I need to prepare for?” The disgusted look on his face only furthering, Dennis shakes his head subtly as he stares a hole through the young woman’s throat, her red hair falling over the back of the short headboard her bed sports. “There’s no house to look through, and unless you can pick up my mother’s ashes from Mozingo Lake- no body to examine twice” Sophie continues, her voice spoken over when the investigator latches onto the second crime. “I have you- on video- driving up to the same facility that Izzy’s body was found in” Dennis proclaims, again finding his evidence dragged through the metaphorical mud by the defence of his subject’s increasingly-deranged mind. “Good luck the murder weapon if that’s your theory” Sophie remarks, listening to his watch ring as a call finds his ear, prompting the girl across from him to finish her thought. “If ‘being in the area of a murder’ was proof that someone did it, then all of Chicago might as well be in jail right now” she proclaims, watching Dennis slip his hand into his pants pocket to retrieve the phone he prefers to answer on, “-face it, you’ve got nothing.” With a frown, Dennis presses the lightweight brick to his ear, greeting the person on the other end of the line before listening into their response. Sparking her lighter for a second time, Sophie lets the call proceed in the background as she takes another pull off the strain of ‘Loud Dream’ cannabis, resting her head against the wall as she waits to watch the man’s reaction. “Yeah, what about it?” Dennis responds, waiting for a brief second before the tension in his face dissolves, his eyes reaching the corner of their lids to veer in the young woman’s direction, her confused glare indicating an incapability of reading into what’s been said. “Thank you” the tall man responds, keeping his departing words simple and brief before returning the phone to his pocket, both eyes kept locked upon the stoned figure of public adoration. “Like I said- you’ve got nothing” Sophie reiterates, gently placing her pipe back on the nightstand before returning her eyes to the man across the room, his mouth once again forming a slight, almost unnoticeable smirk. Nodding his head, the man returns his sight toward the city just beyond the near-rooftop level view the room provides, making his peace with a world capable of creating monsters like the one he shares the space with now. “I’ve dealt with criminals for well over half my life now, and I’m still always surprised by two things-” Dennis remarks, allowed to speak through the silence the girl leaves him, listening to what he has to say, though unphased by his words, “-their hubris and the world that made them.” Sighing just loud enough for the man to hear her, Sophie crawls to the opposite side of the bed and takes a seat at its edge, looking at the once-officer with an arrogant smirk. Bowing his head, Dennis stares at the ground hundreds of feet below, his spirits lowering for a temporary moment in time. “My daughter killed a boy twelve years ago” the man confesses, only able to shift the red-haired killer’s expression by the slightest amount, her eyes narrowing as her head tilts to the side. “For so many years, I wondered if I was the reason she did it. I couldn’t understand what switch flipped- or why” he continues, spilling his soul to a person he feels no fear toward, “I couldn’t make sense of it, and- for the longest time- I didn’t know if I wanted to.” Leaning forward, Sophie presses both elbows into her thighs as her eyes keep toward the man, passing a glance toward the city every few seconds whilst listening to his every word, regardless of how uninterested she is. “Sometimes, I wish she’d stuck around long enough for me to just ask her ‘why’?” Dennis continues, patting the window’s frame as he takes a step back from it, “but unfortunately, the answer died with her.” Almost in an effort to rub salt in the wound, the private eye mimics the audible sigh Sophie had provided him seconds prior as he turns around to leave, snatching his cap and jacket from the nearby hanger as he makes for the door. “There used to be a part of me that used to regret the fact that I couldn’t do anything to bring justice to the boy’s family- it was like a little ghost was haunting me every night and every day” Dennis continues, sliding his jacket on before returning his hat to the head it’s fitted to best, “oh well, at least your father won’t have to suffer the same.” Finally caught, Sophie’s ear guides the rest of her head toward the departing eye, his feet stepping in front of each other on his way to the room’s exit. “What?” she wonders aloud, watching the man stop halfway between herself and the exit, unable to understand what’s been said without elaboration. “What? Oh! Oh- no, no- I should have made myself more clear” Dennis enthusiastically elaborates, pulling up his phone and swiping across the screen before displaying the picture to the young woman. Squinting her eyes, Sophie’s glance is all that’s needed for the hair on the back of her neck to stand up, both eyes widening as her lips part just the slightest amount. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but- isn’t that Izzy’s watch?” the private eye wonders, immediately watching Sophie’s eyes shoot from the screen to look him in the eyes, the shocked realisation of someone whose confidence had just plummeted back to earth, a sight he’s become all too familiar with. “Yeah, like I said- their hubris always surprises me” Dennis repeats himself, sliding the phone back into his pocket before tipping his cap, “see you in court!” Widening, Sophie’s mouth joins the rest of her face in following the man’s departure, his feet carrying him to the door whilst her deluded, drug-influenced mind reaches for the first solution that comes to mind. Through the semi-open cover, Sophie slides her hand into the luggage and retrieves the automatic weapon from within, taking aim at the man just as his hand wraps around the handle before pulling the trigger. With no more than a groan, Dennis falls into the door as his grip on the handle tightens, the sudden shock of a bullet tearing through his back forcing him to one knee. Yet to utter a word, Sophie springs off the bed and walks across the room, watching the man’s open-mouthed face turn to look back at her, realising what awaits him. Able to see the movements the man refuses to hide, Sophie pulls the trigger for a second time, hitting the same place in his upper back before placing the barrel against his head, the third squeeze of the trigger satisfying her enough to back away. Slipping from the knob, the private eye’s hand falls to the ground with the rest of his body, leaving three streaks of blood running down the bedroom’s white door as his corpse hits the floor. Yet to take into thought what she’d just done, Sophie releases her grasp on the firearm, letting it hit the floor as she stumbles back, tripping over the edge of her bed to hit the ground just as the private eye had. Crawling as far across the room as she can, the killer’s back presses into the wall just below the window view of downtown Chicago, the messy circumstances in which she’d earned her third kill taking a few extra seconds to dawn upon her. Just as she presses her hands over her mouth, Sophie’s eyes widen even further, realising her need to take immediate action. Leaping off the ground, she takes the suitcase into her possession and reclaims the weapon, leaving behind whatever she can’t take in that moment as she kicks the investigator’s corpse to the side, squeezing through her bedroom door and racing to the nearest stairwell, wasting not a single moment in making use of what little time she has. == Generation Alpha == > 20th May, 2031 <
“Do you think I care?” Sophie replies, throwing a handful of clothes into a small suitcase as her father watches on, standing near her bedroom door as Elaine remains in the hallway, keeping her distance from a conversation she doesn’t believe there’s a place for her in. “I’m not charged with anything and the documentary goes to theatres in three weeks” the orange-haired offspring remarks, “I’m not staying in the state because a bunch of underfunded donut-munchers spin some tale about me.” His chin in the air, Andrew closes his eyes as he grows increasingly exasperated. “What I’m saying is- it makes you look even more suspicious than you think they’re painting you out as” the man clarifies, quickly redirecting the conversation’s focus to his daughter’s final point, “and they’re not spinning some tale about you- they’re naming you a suspect to murder.” “Yes- a murder to someone that I haven’t said more than a sentence to since before I went missing” Sophie replies, putting on her most sarcastic expression as she animatedly nods, “how suspicious.” Guiding her hand over the luggage, the young woman of increasing public attention zips her bag shut and changes out her short-sleeved grey tank top for a baggy, maroon-shaded t-shirt with a plunging neckline, switching out a casual attire for one worthy of stepping into the public eye in. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you did it, it matters that you’re a suspect in her murder” Andrew explains further, failing to realise that his daughter’s intentions cannot be changed by his warnings, “if the news realises you defied the cops’ orders, they’ll convince themselves you’re guilty before you ever even leave Illinois!” In one, smooth motion, Sophie pulls the end of her long, bright locks out of the shirt collar and snatches her keys from atop the nightstand beside her bed. “I don’t care!” she sighs with youthful ignorance, taking her holdall by the handle and walking past her father, finishing her thought as she steps past him, “I’ve got nothing to do with what happened to Izzy, and nothing the news can say will be able to change that.” Entering the hallway with a purpose, Sophie completely ignores Elaine’s presence as she makes for the staircase, her father’s heavy feet following after her closely. “Honey, will you please just stop for a second and talk to me?” Andrew calls out, following his eldest child down the steps as she makes her way through the front door, not responding to his request as the options he wields greatly dwindle. “Sophie!” Andrew calls out, watching the young woman’s hand lift into the air in a show of dismissal. “I’m done talking about this, dad!” the girl proclaims, unlocking her car door and starting the engine before she can even set foot into the vehicle. “Sophie, please come back!” the man requests again, this time receiving no response, the only sound made from the slamming of the driver’s door shutting, followed by the tires reversing over loose asphalt. Within seconds, his daughter’s presence is rendered non-existent as her car takes off for the end of the road, leaving the man behind- his good intentions waved off as unimportant to the bigger picture. Disgruntled, Andrew looks on for a few, additional moments with his hands on each hip, a momentary pause held as he processes his daughter’s departure before turning to re-enter the home, only to catch a glimpse of dark-clothed figures out of the corner of his eye. Gathered together, George and Rebecca stand near the front of their drive-parked vehicle in mourning attire, their eyes held toward his direction as they exchange glances. The picture missing a member, Andrew’s gaze drifts toward the end of the home’s lawn, where the Nurse’s only child stands at the driver’s side of his vehicle, completely unaffected by the questionable scene he’d just watched unfold. His necktie loose around the collar of his black shirt, Caden stands at his car with the door open for a moment, staring blankly at the neighbouring home’s owner before silently ducking into his seat, driving off into the early morning as his parents watch on, physically incapable of stopping him. As his spirits fall, Andrew turns his attention back to his remaining neighbours and bows his head, showing his respect before following through on re-entering the home. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Elaine asks with a hint of defeat in her voice, a sorrowful look worn on her face as she follows the man into the kitchen, a heavy heart weighing on her. Before he can even answer, Andrew’s head begins to shake as his hand reaches for the nearest cabinet, both eyes taking to the hardest liquor he can find hidden away from untrustworthy eyes. “There’s just no way I can make it through that” Andrew responds, retrieving the biggest bottle of vodka he can catch a glimpse of, gently placing it on the marble countertop as a deep sigh leaves him, “I’d prefer my last memory of that girl to be when she was alive.” Pressing his palm against the bottle’s cap, the man feels the bottle gently move away from him at Elaine’s command, her hands pushing away the strong beverage before taking him by the arms and turning his back to the drink. “Liquor’s not going to make the pain any better, love” her soft voice whispers, trying to look into his eyes as his head bows, eyelids tightly pressing shut as every conflict begins to overwhelm him. “Look at me” Elaine calmly beckons, lowering her chin to get her best angle of Andrew’s face, waiting for him to give into her gently-spoken pleas, her lips spreading to form the most approachable smile she can manage to make. Slowly lulled into cooperation, Andrew lets his eyes open, looking the shorter woman in the face without issue as her hands rest against his shoulders, her warm palms easing him down from the emotional distress. “This is all just a really really bad stretch of really really awful stuff” Elaine softly murmurs, locking eyes with the man she’d gradually- over the last number of months- fallen madly in love with, “it too- just like all the other times before it- will pass.” Lifting his chin just slightly, Andrew nods briefly as he parts his lips, eyes drifting to the back of the spacious kitchen as his mind tries its best to wrap optimistic hands around cynical thoughts. “You’re right, and I know you’re right” he confesses, the difficulty he faces not in admitting his false outlook, but in accepting her truthful one, “it’s just- ugh- I can’t stop thinking about it.” His avoidance of looking her in the eyes making her curious, Elaine presses her hands against each side of her significant other’s face, keeping his gaze from straying from her. “Thinking about what?” the woman inquires, greatly disheartened at the obvious distress he’d become befallen to. Trying to shake off the question, Andrew pulls away from his girlfriend’s grasp, gently pulling her hands away as he backs off, making for the kitchen’s exit as he steps into the living room. “Andrew!” Elaine calls aloud, again following the man into the next room, taking a seat upon the couch he lowers himself into, sinking into the seat as he presses his hands against the features of his face, trying to decompress as best he can. “Andrew, talk to me” she delicately pleads, resting one hand on the man’s thigh whilst the other presses into the cushion she sits against, propping herself up as the man’s hands fall away. “Everything’s fucked” the man finally groans, letting the back of his hands slam into his lap as they fall from his face, the dejected slump of his shoulders telling the tale of a man who’s lost much of the upbeat temperament he’d once moulded himself around. “We were just a normal family sixteen months ago, and now- now we’re like the centre of everything!” Andrew sighs, listening to a pair of tiny footsteps touch upon the floor just overhead as he continues. “Murders, and conflict, and fighting, and arguing. It’s just-” the man continues, listening to the gentle taps of feet above increase as the person they belong to passes the guest bedroom. “-It’s just difficult to keep putting on a happy face every day when there’s always something new waiting to show its face around every corner” Andrew finishes, taking in a deep breath as his face brightens as best it can, feigning that same happy face as Olivia races down the stairs. “Ms. Kirkpatrick! You’re still here!” the small girl exclaims, throwing her hands out and jumping onto the couch, pulling the woman in for a hug with the biggest smile on her face. “Yes I am!” Elaine replies, reciprocating the loving gesture of adoration before releasing her tight squeeze on the small girl, allowing her to move onto the man beside her. “Ms. Kirkpatrick’s still here, daddy! Hi, daddy!” Olivia chirps, leaping into her father’s arms as his bogus simper fools her as it always does. “Yes, Ms. Kirkpatrick is still here” the man responds, letting his daughter pull her head back as her arms remain locked around his neck, “do you like having Ms. Kirkpatrick here as much as I do?” Releasing her grasp, Olivia responds by returning to the incredibly flattered woman, their hug resuming as she answers with glee. “Yes! I love having Ms. Kirkpatrick here!” the loving young child shouts, putting a genuine smile on the face of the woman whose heart melts at the kind remarks. With the child’s chin nestling against her neck, Elaine’s eyes retake toward the empty-armed man, his previous exhaustion-induced anxiousness gradually lessening as he watches the girls beside him take joy from each other’s company. Though wrestling with plenty of his own inner conflicts, Andrew’s heart gives itself a rest and enjoys the display of true innocence before him, reminded of the good still left in spite of the bad he frequently finds himself trapped within. = Generation Alpha is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = > 20th May, 2031 < With the palm of both hands placed on his steering wheel, Caden sits in his driver’s seat without a single ounce of life in his expression, just a blank stare at the top of his sunlit dashboard. As if lost somewhere within the terrible neighbourhoods that have been pitched in the empty spaces of his mind, the young man’s eyes casually drift from one side of the car to the other, not looking for anything in specific, just travelling with the thoughts that he hides however possible. In a perfect world, the seat beside him would be occupied, the soul within it one that never had to be snuffed to begin with. “I wouldn’t think there’d be this many people here for me” Izzy’s voice says, conjured up through one of the unkempt alleys Caden’s metaphorical trip drifts down, trying to pretend he’s not entirely alone. “I hope- at the very least- that I looked nice before they closed the lid” she remarks again, receiving no response from the young man who crafts her words, understanding they’re just a creation he’d summoned to the best detail he can afford to imagine. Though he knows the seat beside him remains empty, the heartbreakingly familiar voice he hears no longer exists, and the comments being made can only be found within the confines of his head, Caden takes the smallest joy out of having them. “Are you coherent enough to know where you are?” an authentic, grizzly voice calls out from the other side of Caden’s door, startling the young man with the taps of his knuckle on the glass. Jostled out of his pain-crafted chimaera, the young man stares out at the face of a taller, bald-headed man that hunches over to look through the glass divide that separates them, waiting for a reply. “What the fuck, man!?” Caden blurts out as he pushes his door open, exiting the vehicle as the investigator begins casually walking on, both hands tucked away in the pockets of his beige khakis. “When I was a kid, the only drugs I was familiar with were cannabis and heroin-” Dennis responds, stepping out from the sea of asphalt masquerading as a parking lot to return to earth, grass still wet from a morning dew now coating his leather shoes in water, “-I don’t know what you’ve got nowadays.” “I’m not on drugs, I’m at my fucking girlfriend’s funeral!” Caden responds, quickly following the man’s lead as he walks away from the source of increasingly fewer visitors, the ceremony already having come and gone just as many of its attendants have by this time. “People don’t usually sit in their car waving their head from side-to-side as a method of grieving” Dennis retorts, continuing to walk with his face forward, “they cry, they go home, they eat ice cream, and slowly move forward.” Having realised his own disinterest halfway through the investigator’s remarks, Caden quickly redirects the dialogue, getting the most obvious curiosity out of the way. “Nevermind that- why are you here?” the young man inquires, finally catching up with the nonchalant private eye as they re-enter the cemetery, making their way past a variety of headstones as one in specific comes to the older man’s eye. “Because there’s a way to make this right” Dennis responds, not wanting to display any emotion in what he says despite the personal glee he takes from each new revelation. “Unfortunately, my miracle can’t bring your girlfriend back- I’m terribly sorry for that by the way, my condolences go out to you- but they may be able to do right by her” the conversation and hike-leading gentleman continues, “maybe- if we’re lucky- we can help clear that guilty conscience you’ve got too.” Shaking his head as his eyes roll, Caden continues to follow Dennis’ lead, his hands swinging from one side to the other as he expresses his doubts, “unless you’ve got a way to put Sophie away, I don’t think you’re clearing anything.” His stride confident, Dennis’ walk comes to an abrupt end as he watches the teenager continue to press forward for a few seconds, the pause soon noticed by the loss-stricken funeral-goer. Coming to a slower stop himself, Caden looks back, wondering to himself why his acquaintance would cease the progress made before connecting the dots, a noticeable widening of his eyes signalling to the investigator that they’ve stumbled upon the same page as each other. “You have proof?” Caden asks in disbelief, quickly guided back from the fleeting high he’d quickly built himself toward, though replaced with a much more stable pedestal to stand upon. “No, but I think I know how to get it” Dennis corrects, slowly cutting the distance between himself and the only child as his explanation occupies the air. “The crew working on Sophie’s documentary are in the home stretch. That doc is going to theatres soon, and in the meantime, they’re going into overdrive on advertisement” he proclaims, motioning with his hands as he concocts his plan, “part of that advertisement involves a panel in Chicago this Friday with a certain star of the show in attendance.” “So, Sophie’s going to Chicago this weekend?” Caden replies, his eyes squinting as his chin juts forward, the state of grief he’d spent his day consumed by slowly falling aside in favour of the promising words the investigator presents to him. “She left this morning” Dennis answers, his body language speaking of the utmost assurance and outright hope, latching onto a thread he is certain of his abilities to knit into a blanket, “she’s already on the road.” Parting his lips to speak, Caden falls silent for a moment, his initial question failing to take on the importance of the second one that pops into his head, the apparent holes in this scheme presenting themselves. “So, what exactly are you getting at?” he asks, the air left open for his question to be raised as desired, “the public cops can’t legally keep people from leaving the state, so it’s not like you can get her for evading the law.” Shaking his head as he steps forward with his hands waving, Dennis’ face begins to sport a smile as his vision for the opportunity that presents itself is spilled to the person he thinks has the most to gain from it. “I’m telling you that she won't be home for the next four or five days” the private eye proclaims, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a small, plastic flash drive, “and that means there’s no way for her to stop me from showing her father this.” Confused, yet intrigued, Caden considers what may be on the drive before the most likely answer pops into his head, his realisation of this putting a morbid expression on his face. “What’s on that?” he asks with a low tone, almost asking the question as if he didn’t actually want to know the answer. “Do you really want me to tell you?” Dennis counters, reading into the look held by the young man’s eyes, “because, if I was guessing- I think you already know what it is.” His stare rigid and intense, Caden’s eyes remain glued to the device before a cold shiver runs down his spine, freeing him from the momentary daze as he turns away, taking a few steps back as he tries to clear his head. Looking to the open grave just twenty metres away- the soul in the coffin it hosts yet to be named by a headstone- Dennis begins to make his declaration as the young man continues slowly pulling away. “Mr. Carrion wasn’t a stranger to Izzy. The person in that grave doesn’t need to have a headstone for you to know who’s in there, and the same applies to him” Dennis explains, taking two steps forward for every one departing step Caden takes, “I know from experience that what he’s going to see will be the greatest pain and shock he’s ever experienced, but it’s a pain and shock that he needs to see if Sophie’s ever going to pay for what she’s done.” With his chin held toward the ground, Caden stands in silence as Dennis keeps a short distance between them, allowing the young man a moment of solitude he’d taken from him minutes prior. In silence, the young man sits with his thoughts for a moment, a streak of light running over his dark hair from the uncovered sun above, his face shrouded by the shadow of a nearby tree as it sits with an expression formed through grief and exhaustion. Moving his lips without saying a word, Caden speaks to himself as the private eye watches on, providing him with whatever time he needs to process what he’s been told. Passing a glance toward the distance, the young man clears his throat and nods, wiping his upper lip with the knuckle of his index finger as he finally responds, filling the air with a voice projected through faith that the proposal’s potential can be seen through. “Why are you telling me all of this?” he wonders aloud, calling the man’s motives into question as the threads, though lining up, don’t necessarily make a perfect line. “You’ve got all the leverage you need to show Mr. Carrion the truth in your hand right now- you don’t need me” Caden reiterates as he turns around, looking back to the man that waits by for his response, “you could be in his living room right now showing him everything you just told me, but you’re here instead. Why?” With a stoic face, Dennis looks at Caden without any change in his expression, neither an exhaustion from answering questions, nor a haste to get on with the proposition, nor an agreement that his time was wasted. As if the inquiry had struck a chord with him, the private eye’s shoulders begin to lower, his hands remaining by his sides as the purposefully-mysterious demeanour he frequently sports begins to descend, finding common ground with the anguished young man. | > 20th May, 2031 < “By all means, come in” Andrew responds, stepping aside to hold the door open for Caden, still dressed in his funeral attire, the fitted jacket traded in for a black dress shirt with rolled up sleeves. “Uh, Sophie-” the elder gentleman begins to remark, pausing for a moment as he recalls the neighbour’s hatred for his daughter, though unsure of any other reason for his unexpected visit, “-Sophie’s not here. Do you need her for something?” Shaking his head, Caden takes a long look at the living room, its normal colour scheme and natural layout speaking to the mind of a normal home, one on the verge of being rocked to its core and stripped of its will to hope. “Where’s the little one?” the preoccupied young man asks, peering through the nearby window as Andrew watches on, confused at the profoundly odd manner in which his youngest neighbour inhabits the room. “She’s- she’s out with Elaine” the man responds, every hour since the early morning having been spent on his own, the home’s quiet walls telling the tale of a man having spent his day failing to discourage himself from worrying over his eldest born. “That’s the woman with the van, right? The one that drives her to school?” Caden responds, allowed to form his own conclusions as the question is left in an uncomfortable silence, “good for you.” Put off by the awkward first few words exchanged, Andrew tries to continue the conversation on more pleasant ground, neither himself, nor the boy across the room from him in an accordingly-affable mood. “I’m sorry for skipping out on the service, kid” the man apologises, keeping an upbeat tone in his voice as Caden remains fixated on the road outside, listening to the man’s admission of regret before shaking his head. “It wasn’t anything special anyway. You didn’t miss much” the guest assures, looking out as the first few street lights power on, illuminating the stretch of road a fading sun leaves behind. “Still, I should’ve gone” Andrew doubles down, yet to move from the door just as Caden has yet to move from the centre of his living room, “Izzy was a really good kid. What happened shouldn’t have, and it was wrong of me not to at least say goodbye.” For a brief moment, Caden smirks, nodding at the man’s kind words before hanging his head again, rubbing the tip of his nose with the back of his knuckles, agreeing with every word out of the father’s mouth. “Yeah, you’re right” he responds, still yet to fully embrace the world without the lost girl in it, enraptured by the sorrow that surrounds her untimely passing, “she shouldn’t be dead.” Convinced that the boy’s strange demeanour is a result of the day’s gruelling toll, Andrew bows his head and nods, agreeing with the true statements he’d been responded to with before they’re followed up on. “But don’t worry, I don’t blame you for missing it-” Caden replies, finally moving the slightest amount, just enough for his body to veer to the left whilst his eyes look back to the father from over his shoulder, “-just like I don’t blame you for her getting killed.” Perplexed, Andrew looks curiously in the young man’s direction as his head tilts to one side, a nervous chuckle leaving his lungs before the first question that comes to mind leaves his lips, “why would you blame me?” Lowering his chin again, Caden’s posture becomes more empathetic as he spins around the rest of the way, looking to the ground as he casually makes for the kitchen. “Because it’d be easy. It wouldn’t make sense, and it’d be a really twisted way of coping with it, but it would be easy” Caden answers, pulling out a stool before taking a seat at the island, “why would you bother blaming the killer when you could just blame the person who raised them?” Furrowing his eyebrows, Andrew takes offence to the implication being made, following the lead the young man’s words paint out for him to be led by. “Caden, are you alright?” the home’s owner replies, immediately hearing a breathy laugh escape the tip of Caden’s tongue as it grows into a more audible chuckle, his head bowing as his arms press against the countertop. “I just buried my girlfriend- of course I’m not alright” the young man replies, his voice returning a normal pitch as he looks off to the corner of the room, an inquisitive expression replacing the amused visage he’d sported up to that moment. “I just don’t get how she got away with it the first time” Caden speaks aloud, talking to himself, only loud enough for the man that approaches to hear as well, “with every single hole in that story, you’d think someone other than me would’ve put the puzzle together by now.” Pressing his lips together, Andrew lifts his wrist to the base of his chin, speaking into the watch that sits on his arm, “call Rebecca Nurse” he commands. “She takes her watch off before she goes into public places” the young man at his countertop replies, insinuating the request will fail to make it through to the intended recipient, “my family doesn’t really like technology as much as they like blaming it for problems.” Sitting in silence for another few moments as the watch rings, Caden waits for the voicemail greeting he’d memorised verbatim since he was a small child. After a few rings, the voice that replies is mirrored by the boy atop one of many stools, his voice matching the one spoken through his watch until the moment the call is hung up. “Alright Caden, I think you should get home now” Andrew remarks, resting his hand on the teenager’s shoulder in an attempt to help him down from the stool, still convinced he’s anything other than sober. Without assistance, Caden climbs down from the stool and walks across the kitchen, lining up opposite Andrew before repositioning his feet, one foot in front of the other and in line with the grout filler of the tiled floor. “I’ve had nothing to drink, my mom and dad hid every pill bottle ‘cause they’re paranoid and wouldn’t admit it, and I drove myself home” the young man claims as his balance remains perfect, “I’m not drunk- you just wish I was.” Stepping down the final stretch of kitchen, Caden pats Andrew on the shoulder and steps off the line, again returning to the stool under his own power and with no issue. “Why would I wish that?” the man asks, not wishing to admit it, though agreeing with the statement made. Though desperately wanting there to be something off about the young man currently occupying his kitchen, Andrew can no longer deny that he’s entirely sober. “Because if I was drunk, you could write off everything I’m saying as some stupid bullshit a moody teen would write in his journal after a binge” Caden replies, turning in the seat to face the man as a set of doors shut in the near distance, “and since I’m not, it means that I mean what I’m saying.” Attempting to respond, Andrew’s attention is called to by the opening of the front door, Elaine’s hand releasing the knob as Olivia sprints into the living room with her arms widened. “Daddy!” the young girl exclaims, leaping into her father’s arms before he can even have the chance to fully lower himself to one knee, her grasp holding him tightly before her eyes wander toward the kitchen, widening in outright awe. “CADEN!” Olivia screams, immediately releasing her father from the loving bearhug and sprinting toward the unexpected visitor. As if all his pain had melted away in the blink of an eye, the battle-tested, grief-stricken young man reverts to his former self, the one the precious angel of innocence with arms stretched like the wings of a hawk remembers fondly. “Hey, ‘Livy!” Caden shouts, throwing himself off the stool and to the ground, lowering himself enough to catch the girl as she leaps off the hardwood tiles, stepping into the embrace of someone she’d grown to miss greatly without truly realising it. Only able to watch on, Andrew’s mouth forms a smile before his conscience reclaims hold of his emotions, any belief that Caden’s mind wasn’t fully present quashed in a moment of satisfying worry. “Andrew” Elaine whispers, prompting the man to turn in her direction, his eyes growing wide when he notices she’s not alone. “What are you doing here?” the man wonders aloud, slowly becoming stricken with anger as he watches Dennis slink through the front door, a tophat held against his chest as he gingerly enters the home at the woman’s behest. “He’s helping me” Caden answers on the private eye’s behalf, reclaiming the father’s attention for a moment as he returns to his feet, gently releasing the girl from his appreciative embrace. “There’s only one way to fix what’s happened, and you’re the only person that can do it” the young man calmly says, patting Olivia on the head as he looks her father in the eye, not pleased with having to say what he knows he needs to, “and if you don’t help us, everything will just get worse.” Shaking his head as disbelief rolls over him, Andrew’s ear is taken back to Elaine, who places her hand on his chest as she looks into his eyes with a look of concern of her own. “Andrew” she whispers, pulling his face toward her own as he repeatedly tries to look toward the yet-to-speak private eye across the room, “I think you might have to hear them out.” As if releasing the subdued confrontational tension that builds in his chest, the muscles in Andrew’s face loosen as he loses himself in Elaine’s eyes, seeing the anxiety that hides behind the pupils of his seraph. Reading the woman’s expression, Andrew realises she knows something more than what he does, this unspoken centre of such an impromptu gathering that encircles him powerful enough to bring her to near tears. Lost for words, Andrew pulls his eyes away from Elaine’s and looks to Dennis, his apologetic expression unlike the one he’d received in their prior interactions. Taking all he can from the man’s visage, the father looks back to the kitchen and lays eyes on Caden, the sorrowful young man that had entered his home replaced by a sympathetic soul equally displeased with having to rope him into the same torment that he’d succumbed to long ago. Yet to utter a word, Andrew is lulled into considering Elaine’s request, only acting upon the plea upon looking back to the woman before him, her wide eyes carrying a fear he wishes to free her from. “Olivia, sweetie-” the man finally mutters, turning to look at the girl he’d watched light the world into smiles and hugs with a heart full of distress, though he hides it remarkably well, “-can you go up to your room for a little bit, please?” With the most innocent of nods, the young girl hurries for the stairs and races up each step, prancing down the hallway and to her room as the ground level is left to the situation she deserves nothing to do with. As his breathing grows heavy, Andrew’s hands begin to tremble as he backs away from the woman he holds closest, stepping past Caden and sliding a stool out from the island. Still wearing a wedding band on his left hand, Andrew’s ring clatters against the seat’s wooden surface, moving with the rest of his shaky hand as he turns back to the room, its three inhabitants standing close together. With each pair of eyes on him, the man lets out a deep sigh and relaxes his aching muscles, yet to fully realise just how many pieces his world is about to be shattered into, though quick to accept that the breaking must commence as he addresses the small gathering. “Have a seat.” == Generation Alpha == |
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