3
POLICE STATION
A wall on the side of the station house suddenly becomes translucent. A map of San Angeles filling the wall. A small red dot blinking in the middle.
Serenely the voice from the computer Meaninglessly drones "One eight seven. One eight seven. One eight seven..."
She continues to drone on in the background as the scale of the map decreases over and over again zooming in on the Cryo-Prison. The blinking red dot remains constant. The Perky Dispatcher punches 1 - 8 - 7 into a keyboard. Examines the screen. Faints dead away. Falls from her chair. The Tough Cop rushes over. Sees the screen. He drops his juice. "Oh my, oh my, oh my..."
He's a basket case. Harper and Ianto come into the fray. Harper asks "What's a one eight seven?"
Ianto shrugs. He has no idea. Runs to a nearby terminal. Punches it up. Stunned he says softly "Murder-Death-Kill."
Punches another button. The map is replaced with an image from the Cryo-Prison. Two dead guards. Warden Smithers crawling painfully toward the door. It's a brutal image.
The computer starts to drone again "I show two stopped codes at Cryo-Prison X23-1. William Smithers, Warden. Severe injury. Do you wish to assign a medic?
The warden stops crawling. Collapses.
"Update: specification deceased. Do you wish to assign a coroner?"
Chief Stamos arrives manfully on the scene. No idea what's up. "What's the matter with all of you?"
"Cryo-Prison, sir... Three non-sanctioned life terminations..." The tough cop is ready to cry "Murder-Death-Kills. Three MDKs."
Stamos sinks into a chair. Cops all over the station are in severe, gasping trauma.
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Half in a prisoner's smock and half-dressed in salvaged parts of the guard's uniform, John Hart strolls outside the austere prison building, crossing an unimaginably perfect green lawn. Before him, in a small parking area, a Doctor, wearing a white coat over "stylish" duds, opens up his sharp user-friendly sportscar with the code on the back of his hand.
"Excuse me, Doctor?"
"Yes..."
"Open your mouth and say Ahhhh!" John's having a good time.
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Ianto streaks past his zombie co-workers, cool under fire, to spin the main computer screen to him. "Access the Cryo-pen's morning hearing schedule... And then give me... wait..."
A list of names flashes on the screen.
"It's Hart. John Hart..." A grizzled African-American veteran, Zachary Lamb steps behind Ianto, covering traumatic memories with a stoic shudder. He points to Hart's name on the hearing list. "I knew him. We all knew him. He's evil like you've only read about, boy. He's..."
"Hold that thought, Zachary Lamb." Ianto says, then barks to computer "John Hart's code. Now."
"There are no specifications on file for John Hart." The voice replies serenely.
Ianto huffs "L7, you're not coming down with another virus, are you? What's Hart's code!"
"You don't get it, Ianto Jones. Hart isn't coded. He got Chilled back in the 20th, before they started lojacking everybody ... I was a rookie then... He was a big dealer. Narcotics. Software. Wetware. Anything. Declared his own kingdom in South Central L.A. M.D.K.'d whatever got in his way. In a bad time, he was the worst." Lamb explains.
Harper has punched up a camera view of a prone body in the parking area.
"One stopped code in penitentiary parking area. Jack Mostow, doctor." The computer cheerily advises.
The Perky Dispatcher has come to. Begins to sob and then to wail. Ianto can't concentrate. Gives the Dispatcher's rolling chair a firm push, sends him drifting away across the station, and then says "Tell me, L7... (dramatic pause) Is the doctor's conveyance still in the parking zone?"
"Doctor's vehicle has been code-fixed at the corner of Hollywood and Vine." The computer says.
"Glorious." Ianto whispers.
Recovering; back on his feet and taking command Chief Sato barks "Fine work. All nearby units. Protect Serve Hollywood and Vine."
The adrenaline in the control room surges. Tears are being wiped away.
Justice is near.
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Hart twists out of the doc's car onto a completely unfamiliar Hollywood and Vine. The rotating and speaking street sign may say so, but nothing else is recognizable. Brutal-killer is briefly confused-child, as Hart tentatively soaks in his surroundings. A troubled-looking guy in his twenties stands before a CompuKiosk. Half phone booth, money machine, half computer terminal ""I dunno... Lately I just don't feel like there's anything special about me"
"You are an incredibly sensitive man, who inspires Joy-Joy feelings in all those around you" the kiosk assured him warmly.
Hart savagely pushes the Troubled Guy away. The kiosk is an open booth with a row of large buttons, a monitor, and a keyboard.
Hart curiously examines the row of buttons: Ego Boost, Citizen Confessional, Public Psychiatrist, Atlas, Serenity Sayings, Banking, Mail, Telephone Directory... he's gotta know. Pushes the Ego Boost. Half a beat, then, just hearty as hell he is told "You look great today."
John grins.
"Thanks, feel great, too..."
The future just amuses the hell out of John. Hart slams down the information button. He drops his hands onto the keyboard and his fingers fly. His grin grows wider and wider. His fingers stop and -
"You have reached secure mailbox facilities for... John Hart."
Information flashes by. Maps, routes, overhead and underground plans of the city. Hart takes it all in. Light speed. No problem. His fingers fly again. The screens finally end with an image of a pistol. Rotating, exploded views, metallurgy information. Hart exhales a confused grin.
"Wonder if I can play the accordion now too..." Hart mutters, still unsure how he can do all of this.
"Noun: Gun. Portable firearm." The computer starts to drone "This device was widely utilized in the urban wars of the late 20th Century. Referred to as a gun, a pistol, a piece..."
"I don't want a history lesson, Hal! Where are the fucking guns?!"
A morality BOX attached to the kiosk BUZZES. "You are fined one credit for violation of the verbal morality statute."
A thin sheaf of paper slides off the front with the reprimand.
"Yeah? Well fuck you twice."
The box buzzes twice to his left. Two more sheets of paper appear. "Your repeated violation of the verbal morality statute has caused me to notify the San Angeles Police Department. Please remain here for your reprimand."
Hart is ready to punch in the screen when two S.A.P.D. patrol cars pull to a dramatic halt behind him. "Oooh, fuckers are fast, too."
John beats the Morality Box to it. BUZZES at it first. Grins. Four cops get out. Unsheathing electronic stun batons. They switch on. Blue phosphor glow...
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Ianto and the other cops stand in front of the wall monitor. It shows an angle of the scene from a building corner mounted camera turret. The image pans over and locks onto Hart as he stands at the information kiosk. The police can be seen moving in. The cops in the squad room begin cheering.
"Chalk one up for the benevolent ones." Harper crows.
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Another squad car pulls up behind. Two more cops emerge. Hart looks casually at the six of them. The police move forward, blue sparks now spitting from their electrified batons. The Squad Leader glances down to a hand-held Strategic Apprehension Computer. "Maniac is imminent. Request advice."
"With a firm tone of voice, demand maniac lie down with hands behind back." The hand-held tells him.
"John Hart, lie down and put your hands behind your back." The Squad Leader says nervously.
Hart lets off a laugh. "Geez gosh. Six of you. In such tidy uniforms. I'm so scared."
The cops look puzzled.
"Don't they have irony anymore?" Hart turns back to the terminal. His fingers fly.
The squad leader has hurt feelings "Maniac scoffs at us."
The Hand-Held advises "Approach, and in an even firmer tone of voice..."
Hart finishes a final keystroke. The graffiti removing shock poles burst from the building beside them. Fires. Electrocutes and cooks one of the cops.
The cops are stunned.
The nearest cops approach with their stun batons. John kills them both. It doesn't take long. He breaks a neck, he spear-hands a sternum, drives a jawbone into a skull. It's all very graceful. Death ballet.
"Sarcasm maybe?" John asks himself, turns to two terrified cops "Will you be staying to die, or running away in fear?"
They turn and run away. John leaps over the squad car. Now he's in front of them. They freeze. "Ahhh, I didn't say running away would help."
Catches up with the two of them. Kills them both. Effortlessly. Just for variety uses a different style of martial arts this time. Two more are left. They're frozen. Deer in the headlights.
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The cops at the station watch in horror as the last two go down.
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John spots the SecurityCam. Comes towards it with a leer.
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Despite the electronic distance, cops at the station recoil in fear.
John rips the cover plate from the camera stanchion. Yanks out the transmission cables. Looks directly into the camera. He's having a very good time.
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On the giant monitor at the station John glares at them.
"Everybody stand!" John yells.
Half the cops in confusion and fear do.
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John looks straight at the camera. He starts singing "... and the home of the... (holds the note for all it's worth) ... brave."
Jams the spark wand in the main transmission cables.
Sign off.
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Every monitor in the station blows to STATIC. Jones's fingers fly.
"We've lost every camera for six blocks around." Ianto yells, thinking fast "Going to Cahuenga at twelve hundred millimeters."
On the big screen - Cahuenga Security Cam POV. When the zoom starts, we can't even see John, when it ends, we can see him highly compressed by one of the squad cars. Under the hood. Jamming the stun baton around.
Harper points out "He's going for the vehicle battery core. Its capacitance gel."
"Why's he doing that?" someone asks.
John finds what he's looking for. He backs off. The CAR EXPLODES. Smoke everywhere. It clears. No John. Dead silence in the station. The car still burns silently on the giant screen.
Ianto punches it off with horror.
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COCTEAU COMPLEX - CONFERENCE ROOM
DR. Raymond Cocteau lectures at the end of a conference table. We don't see who he's talking to. He has that weird serenity of the obscenely-wealthy or a President-Elect-far-life. "The problem is not the defacement of public buildings." (turning to someone else) "The problem is not the noise pollution of the exploding devices." (turning to yet another) The problem is that these hooligans who have left the comfort of our society feel a need to spew hostility at the bosom they have relinquished."
We see, instead of chairs with people in them, the table is surrounded by HDTV video monitors on swiveling mounts. Each screen has the face of a San Angeles department head and his/her sphere of responsibility: PublicWorks, Orderly Conduct, Public Dietary Concerns, Litter... Twelve swiveling video heads, all watching and listening.
"Yes, indeed." One of the swivel heads agrees.
The other video heads turn and nod in agreement.
"And march they may, these half-dozen miscreants infecting the public consciousness with their bile and venom. And while I am saddened, truly saddened, they have left, we cannot allow them to impair the harmony of San Angeles. They are but vandals and Visigoths." Cocteau sighs "Forty-four years ago when Los Angeles exploded in violence/Anger, violence/Hatred and violence/Fear, a disease had erupted... A disease not socio-economic, but behavioural. People had simply forgotten how to behave... We cannot allow it again. That time, politics, law, even force were useless to affect change... We have triumphed over all of that. The same principles of B.E., Behavioral Engineering, I have applied to cryo-prison were expanded into the design and execution of what we now call... (gestures proudly) San Angeles, a city as fine as any one of the holding facilities I've designed. We have a peaceful/Safe, and above all, happy/happy population."
The VIDEOHEADS nod and mutter their approval.
"Even now I am positioning actions, postulating proceedings. I expect your trust/Confidence and certitude." Cocteau ends.
"As always Mayor/Gov Raymond Cocteau."
Cocteau's assistant, Associate Bob, comes in the room. Gives Cocteau a significant look. Cocteau says to the VideoHeads "If you will excuse me."
He waves dismissively at the monitors. The sound mutes.
The video freezes. Bob is a large man with an oddly high-pitched voice and a strangely-officious manner. Shaken he reports "Mayor/Gov Raymond Cocteau, a cryocon has effected self-release from the penitentiary. It is quite horrific. Murder-Death-Kills. All categories of chaos..."
Bob shudders.
"Enhance your calm... Enhance your calm." Cocteau gestures to the frozen video heads. "Be well them for me. Get Captain Sato on the Holo."
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Sato nods and shudders He's really shook. "It was just... I mean it was so..."
"I want you to do everything in your power to get this madman." Cocteau clicks off the Holo. Rolls his eyes. As if the cops have a chance against Hart.
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POLICE STATION
Sato nods. He has no idea what that might entail. He looks really ill. "BE well."
Silence reigns. No one knows what to say. Ianto has his head in his hands in shock.
Sato asks aghast "He M.D.K.'ed everyone in a six man squad. With a Strategic Apprehension Computer. Destroyed an official government vehicle. 'Everything in our power,' what else is there?"
Nobody has a clue what to do. Ianto looks up. An idea forming "Zachary Lamb. How did they apprehend this fiendish John Hart back in the 20th?"
"Twelve-state manhunt... Satellite surveillance... A video-bite on 'Unsolved Mysteries'... None of it worked. In the end, it took one man. One cop." Lamb hesitates "Jack Harkness."
Ianto looks at him with a pleased and spooky smile.