============== THE MEN WITH NO FACES ============
Author's notes: Inspired by mini-series Taken. WIP
ACT ONE:
Scene 1.
Int. Doggett's house.
10:40pm
Doggett sits down in front of his television watching local news. He slowly eats a ham and cheese sandwich while curiously watching the news.
The phone rings.
Doggett gets up to answer, still keeping one eye on the television to follow the news, as he does as often as he can.
"Hello, John Doggett here." He answers.
There is a short murmur on the other end.
"We are the men with no faces." Comes the strict voice from the other end.
Doggett looks surprised. He grows weary.
"Who is this?" He asks, walking towards his window and opening the curtain slightly to see if there is anyone outside who could be making the call. "What do you want?" He proceeds.
"We are the men with no faces." The voice continues.
"You know, I am armed. Come near me and I'll be forced to protect myself," Doggett threatens, as he reaches for his gun. "What do you want?"
There is a silence.
There is a knock at the front door. Doggett puts the phone down, prepares his gun and walks slowly to the door. His hands clutch the gun firmly, his finger poised on the trigger. He edges cautiously towards the door. There is another silence. Then there is another sharp knock at the door.
Doggett opens the door quickly, aims his gun forward and prepares to shot.
There is no one at the door. He looks around, but there is no one in sight.
"Damn hit-and-run kids." He mutters.
He then turns his back and walks back into his house. He goes back to sitting on his couch and watching television. When he goes to get his sandwich he finds that there is a piece of paper slotted inside. It reads, "we want your face" in curvaceous writing. Doggett feels a chill run down his spin. He hears the echo of footsteps on his upstairs floorboards. He looks up.
"Right." He murmurs. He's annoyed. "Whoever it is better have a damn good reason for whatever they're doing." With that he gets up, picks up his gun and goes upstairs.
He walks towards the staircase, at the top he sees the silhouette of a man at the top of the stairs. He grips on his gun, aims it upward towards the silhouette and walks cautiously up the stairs.
"I'm armed. Do not move." He shouts.
The silhouette rushes into one of the upstairs rooms. Doggett runs in pursuit.
He rushes into the room. The room is empty. He looks around, keeping his gun poised at all times and being weary of his surroundings.
"We want your face." Comes a hoarse voice from one corner of the room. Doggett walks further towards it.
"I'm armed." His hands firmly grasp the gun; they slip slightly as the sweat accumulates.
"We want your face." The voice speaks again, from next to the door this time. Doggett swiftly turns around. His face glows with confusion, and a sense of fear.
"Who are you and why are you in my house?" His voice becomes broken as he tries to make sense of what's going on.
There's an immense flash of light. As Doggett turns his head, and squints from the brightness he sees the silhouette walking towards him. There is a cold breeze around him as the face of the silhouette begins to emerge. Through the glow of the unknown the face appears.
Author's notes: Inspired by mini-series Taken. WIP
ACT ONE:
Scene 1.
Int. Doggett's house.
10:40pm
Doggett sits down in front of his television watching local news. He slowly eats a ham and cheese sandwich while curiously watching the news.
The phone rings.
Doggett gets up to answer, still keeping one eye on the television to follow the news, as he does as often as he can.
"Hello, John Doggett here." He answers.
There is a short murmur on the other end.
"We are the men with no faces." Comes the strict voice from the other end.
Doggett looks surprised. He grows weary.
"Who is this?" He asks, walking towards his window and opening the curtain slightly to see if there is anyone outside who could be making the call. "What do you want?" He proceeds.
"We are the men with no faces." The voice continues.
"You know, I am armed. Come near me and I'll be forced to protect myself," Doggett threatens, as he reaches for his gun. "What do you want?"
There is a silence.
There is a knock at the front door. Doggett puts the phone down, prepares his gun and walks slowly to the door. His hands clutch the gun firmly, his finger poised on the trigger. He edges cautiously towards the door. There is another silence. Then there is another sharp knock at the door.
Doggett opens the door quickly, aims his gun forward and prepares to shot.
There is no one at the door. He looks around, but there is no one in sight.
"Damn hit-and-run kids." He mutters.
He then turns his back and walks back into his house. He goes back to sitting on his couch and watching television. When he goes to get his sandwich he finds that there is a piece of paper slotted inside. It reads, "we want your face" in curvaceous writing. Doggett feels a chill run down his spin. He hears the echo of footsteps on his upstairs floorboards. He looks up.
"Right." He murmurs. He's annoyed. "Whoever it is better have a damn good reason for whatever they're doing." With that he gets up, picks up his gun and goes upstairs.
He walks towards the staircase, at the top he sees the silhouette of a man at the top of the stairs. He grips on his gun, aims it upward towards the silhouette and walks cautiously up the stairs.
"I'm armed. Do not move." He shouts.
The silhouette rushes into one of the upstairs rooms. Doggett runs in pursuit.
He rushes into the room. The room is empty. He looks around, keeping his gun poised at all times and being weary of his surroundings.
"We want your face." Comes a hoarse voice from one corner of the room. Doggett walks further towards it.
"I'm armed." His hands firmly grasp the gun; they slip slightly as the sweat accumulates.
"We want your face." The voice speaks again, from next to the door this time. Doggett swiftly turns around. His face glows with confusion, and a sense of fear.
"Who are you and why are you in my house?" His voice becomes broken as he tries to make sense of what's going on.
There's an immense flash of light. As Doggett turns his head, and squints from the brightness he sees the silhouette walking towards him. There is a cold breeze around him as the face of the silhouette begins to emerge. Through the glow of the unknown the face appears.