[Fade in: Darkness. Faint, distorted whispers echo — screams, lab equipment clattering, heartbeat monitors accelerating. A single voice begins narrating — calm, haunting, reflective.]
Narrator: "They told the world we were evolving naturally.
They told the masses superhumans were rare accidents — mutations, miracles.
They lied."
"It started quietly. In the shadows of governments and beneath the floorboards of democracy, men and women in lab coats played gods. The project had no single name, because no one wanted to be responsible. It moved between hands — military, medical, mercenary."
"They weren't seeking heroes.
They were testing limits.
The limit of pain.
The limit of control.
The limit of obedience."
[Cut to rapid flashes: a restrained man thrashing as his skin glows red; a girl levitating involuntarily, crying in confusion; a vial dropping into a chamber marked "TRX-SHARD AWAKE TEST 9.3"]
Narrator: "The subjects were ordinary once — orphans, prisoners, refugees, some even volunteers. Each promised a better tomorrow in exchange for their bodies… and sometimes, their souls."
"The process was brutal. For every one who survived, ten others didn't. For every 'miracle' the world would eventually witness… a dozen corpses were buried unmarked beneath classified sand."
[A lab burns. A subject escapes into the night. A scientist turns off surveillance and walks away, haunted.]
Narrator: "And then… a few of them got out.
Some broke free.
Some were released as prototypes.
Some were simply… lost."
"The public still doesn't know.
But the war has already begun — a war between the ones who made the powers, and the ones who learned to live with them."
[2 years after the Lab incident]
INT. CITY ROOFTOP CAFE – EVENING – AMBER-GOLD SUNSET
A sleek rooftop café atop a mid-rise downtown. Soft jazz hums in the background. Tables are spaced out under glowing string lights. Gentle wind. Classy, quiet, urban.
At a corner table for two, Ryan Jacobs, early 20s, relaxed posture, smug grin, sits alone, stirring an untouched drink with his finger. He's in a casual yet sharp jacket, tapping his foot to the beat.
He glances at his watch. The second hand lands on the 8-minute mark.
RYAN
(half-smirking to himself)
"Exactly eight minutes late... Odd timing?"
He leans back — not annoyed, just amused. At that moment, a graceful figure appears in the elevator behind him.
VALENTINA CORNERWOOD, radiant, confident, stylish without effort, walks in wearing a soft lavender dress and just enough edge in her eyeliner. She's calm like a storm that hasn't happened yet.
Ryan stands halfway to greet her.
VALENTINA
(sincerely)
"Sorry I'm late."
RYAN
(teasingly)
"Don't be. I was timing you. Eight minutes exactly. It's a statement, right? Not rude… just oddly cinematic."
VALENTINA
(sits, smiling faintly)
"Maybe I like symmetry… or maybe I enjoy making a guy wait."
RYAN
(grinning)
"You do give 'main character entrance' vibes."
They chuckle. A soft spark starts to build — gentle flirtation, mutual curiosity.
VALENTINA
"So, you're Ryan Jacobs. What do you do?"
RYAN
(sipping his drink)
"Depends on who's asking. You a podcast listener, a government recruiter, or… someone I actually want to impress?"
VALENTINA
(teasing)
"What if I'm all three?"
RYAN
(deadpan, then a smirk)
"Then I'll have to come up with three different lies."
They share a laugh. The date flows with easy banter, both clearly playing the game but also enjoying it. Yet something distracts Ryan.
At a table across the café — a woman with short black hair, combat-straight posture, and a dark-toned leather jacket sits alone, coffee in hand. She's not looking at him, but he feels her presence.
VALENTINA
(noticing)
"Someone you know?"
RYAN
(looking away, casual)
"Not sure. Could be one of my unpaid fanclub members."
Valentina's phone buzzes. She glances down at it, face tightening for a microsecond.
VALENTINA
(sweetly)
"Give me a moment. Nature calls."
RYAN
(nods, joking)
"Tell nature I said hi."
Valentina walks off gracefully toward the washroom.
The moment she disappears, the woman from the other table stands up and walks directly toward Ryan. Silent steps. Sharp eyes. Confidence like a loaded weapon.
She arrives beside the table and speaks coolly.
WOMAN
"Ryan Jacobs."
RYAN
(tilts head, playing along)
"See? Told you — fanclub. Gold-tier member, I presume?"
WOMAN
(flashes ID with a subtle flick of her wrist)
"Crimson Moore. RAIDERS. You're under unofficial surveillance, pending re-engagement. Congratulations."
RYAN
(leans forward, eyes narrowing slightly)
"Unofficial surveillance… on a guy trying to score a second date?"
CRIMSON
"You were supposed to be dead. Or missing. Not… dating suspicious mutant operatives connected to a hostile cell."
Ryan blinks. The gears in his mind spin a little faster.
RYAN
"...You're not here to take my order, are you?"
CRIMSON
(sits down in Valentina's chair smoothly)
"I'm here to interrupt your dinner. Politely."
RYAN
(smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes anymore)
"Good news — I always love a third-act twist."
The camera cuts to the restroom hallway — Valentina stands outside the washroom mirror, gazing at herself. Her reflection flickers… just a bit too long.
Back to Ryan — seated across from a government agent. Charm fading. The air turning electric.
Ryan eyes Crimson suspiciously. She's seated across the table, composed but tense — clearly not just passing by.
Suddenly, Crimson's earpiece clicks — a faint warning buzz. She looks sideways, then back at Ryan.
CRIMSON
"Get up. Now."
RYAN
(blinking)
"Excuse me?"
CRIMSON
"You're compromised. The girl? She's not who she says. You're a walking beacon, and your past's caught up. You wanna live, or flirt your way into a body bag?"
RYAN
(still not moving)
"I'd rather flirt with you, but go on."
Crimson stands up. Pulls him by the wrist.
CRIMSON
"Perfect. Then follow me. And run."
She sprints. He stumbles after her. They dash across the rooftop as shadows appear behind them from the stairwell exit.
RYAN
(while running)
"Just to be clear, I'm only going with you because you're super hot—"
CRIMSON
"Then try to survive long enough to enjoy the view."
She reaches the edge of the rooftop, grabs his arm, and leaps.
They soar off the rooftop. The skyline blurs behind them. A sleek matte-black vehicle races below — a futuristic muscle car hybrid with an open roof hatch already sliding back. The moment is insane.
They land perfectly inside the vehicle, roof shutting above them with a slick clunk. The car barely bounces. It was waiting.
Ryan lands hard in the passenger seat, breathing fast. Crimson's already got one hand on the wheel, other flicking switches.
RYAN
(sincerely gasping)
"...Alright, yeah. That was hot. You… are hot. And now I get it. You're not just a federal buzzkill with cheekbones. You've got steam for what you claim to be."
"This Crimson babe is fantastic", Ryan think to himself while looking at her. Her black bodysuit clings like combat silk, trimmed in deep red veins of glowing cyber circuitry.
Her leather jacket flares behind her like a cape as she drives — marked with tiny scorches, weapon burns, and utility slits.
Her jet-black hair is cropped sharp, eyes like tungsten steel.
The scar across her left collarbone is barely visible beneath the collar — one of many quiet battles she never mentions.
RYAN
(grinning sideways)
"Yep. Definitely half in love already."
CRIMSON
(eyes forward)
"Save the compliments. You'll need your breath for screaming."
The car sharply turns a corner, narrowly missing a streetlight. Ryan winces.
City lights reflect across Ryan's face as he turns serious for the first time.
RYAN
"Alright, Agent Whatever — explain. Why now? Who's after me? And who decided to send you of all people?"
CRIMSON
(soft sigh)
"I'm Crimson Moore. Government task force. RAIDERS Division."
RYAN
"RAIDERS? I've heard whispers—"
CRIMSON
"Research Authority Inspecting Different Entities of Random Superpowers. Or just the janitors of your mess."
Ryan processes that. Crimson takes a sharp left into a low-traffic tunnel.
CRIMSON
"I work for the ones who made you. I won't sugarcoat it.
Two years ago, the program broke down. The subjects who survived escaped — or disappeared."
RYAN
"I didn't disappear. I went off-grid. That's what they call it when you burn your records and pretend to be a regular nerdy school teacher."
CRIMSON
"Except you survived more than a year. And you weren't supposed to. No one was."
RYAN
"...So what, I win a prize?"
CRIMSON
"You win a bounty.
Everyone who made it past the one-year threshold is being hunted.
By outsiders. By rogues. Even by the people who made you.
Some to terminate.
Some to recover.
Some to use."
Ryan turns away, trying to process.
CRIMSON
"I'm the retrieval unit. They didn't send me to cage you.
They sent me to bring you in… so you don't end up on someone else's leash — or operating table."
A pause. Ryan turns to her, eyes narrowing.
RYAN
"And why do you care if I end up dead or dissected?"
CRIMSON
(quietly, a rare softness)
"Because you're not the only one who got out."
Their eyes meet. The car keeps tearing through the night. And behind them… a black uncanny fog slips out of the clouds.
The black uncanny fog begins swirling down from the clouds behind them — like smoke with sentience, spiraling unnaturally.
It begins to gain. Fast.
CRIMSON
(glancing up, confused)
"What the—"
Before she can finish, the fog whips past the car like a ghost jet, then solidifies about 40 meters ahead of them, mid-road.
It takes shape — elegant, twisted, radiant. It's Valentina. Her lavender dress now fused with her skin, shifting in texture like living matter. Her eyes glow with an amber-white haze, and her presence warps the very air around her.
RYAN
(leaning forward, baffled)
"...Val?
Listen, I swear I wasn't cheating.
Also—what was that foggy exorcist entry?!"
VALENTINA
"Oh, Ryan…
You typical dumb little prick of a guy."
RYAN
(grinning nervously)
"Okay... technically true, but—"
VALENTINA
(steps forward slowly)
"You think this is just about dinner, banter, a date that turns into a spy chase?
You think I wore that dress and smiled pretty just to flirt with your guilt issues?"
Crimson slowly reaches for a weapon compartment in the dash.
VALENTINA
(smiling at Crimson)
"She's fast, but not fast enough.
I'm made of something a bit more… elastic."
Suddenly, her body pulses. Both arms stretch outward like liquid steel — slithering across the ground in a blink — and then SNAP upward like whips.
Before Crimson can fire, Valentina's elongated arms wrap around the entire car, squeezing the chassis like a toy. With a monstrous grunt, she yanks the vehicle sideways and hurls it off the road, sending it flipping down a grassy slope and crashing into a ditch.
Glass shatters. Metal bends. Sparks fly.
Crimson and Ryan avoided major damage and quickly got out and walked towards the road.. after mounting the cliff, while Valentina just stands waiting like a mockery..
RYAN
(Dusting himself)
"Such a mean prank, not funny for a first date.."
VALENTINA
(quietly intense)
"It's not simple, Ryan.
It's never been.
Not for people like us."
RYAN
(defensively)
"You mean lab rats? Or walking science accidents?"
VALENTINA
"You call it that.
But I call it revelation.
We're the truth behind the curtain, Ryan.
You just never opened your eyes long enough."
She looks genuinely disappointed. Or maybe furious. Or both.
RYAN
(getting to his feet, blood on lip)
"Okay…" (stances steady)
"I'm not getting into games anymore.. real talk, Val… what do you even identify as?"
VALENTINA
(flatly)
"I'm not your Valentina anymore."
Her skin flickers again, not burning but shifting — molecularly unstable and re-aligning. Her voice distorts with a layered echo.
VALENTINA
(slow grin)
"I'm... Defragmentina."
Her body pulses, scattering briefly into a fragmented, pixelated storm — particles of smoke, liquid, energy — then reassembling into her humanoid form again.
RYAN
(eyes widening)
"...Damn. That's either the coolest or the worst name I've ever heard."
CRIMSON
(aiming again)
"It's the last one you'll hear if you don't move."
Crimson is ready to face Defragmentina, but Ryan is definitely not staying back..
RYAN
"I'm in my hustle as well, baddies.."
The two of them are staring at Defragmentina with intensity, ready for an action confrontation.