"Come, ye children, listen to me. I will teach you the fear of the Lord."
PSALM 34:11
The Mojave Desert - Dusk
Vast. Barren. No signs of life.
A blood red sun is sinking behind the distant mountains. The unbearable heat will soon become an unbearable cold.
Charlie's voice. Solemn. Weary. Determined.
"When I was a little girl, my mother would remind me each night before bed to be sure to open my heart to God, for he was kind, merciful and just. Things changed after my father left a few years later, leaving her to raise me and my brothers alone in a little place out on the edge of the Mojave Desert. She never talked about a kind and merciful God again. Instead, she spoke of a prophecy. Of a time when all the world would be covered in darkness and the fate of Mankind would be decided when two children needed help the most. One night I finally got up the courage to ask my mother why God had changed, why was he mad at his children. "I don't know," she said, tucking the covers around me, "I guess he just got tired of all the bullshit." Charlie says. And with these words the last trace of sunlight is snuffed out, leaving us in darkness...
Los Angeles, December 23rd - 1:02 a.m.
A blood red moon reflected in a greasy puddle of water. Might just be the smog that's making it that ominous color. Then it's noticed that something moving in the reflection. A dark shape, growing coming down at the Earth fast. Two black boots land hard in the water. A dark figure in a tattered trench coat tumbles onto the pavement, hands out to slow the impact. A beat then slowly he climbs to his feet, recovering from what seems to have been quite a fall. He has chiseled features, shaved head, deep-set eyes. Looks like he's been through one hell of a fight. His name, people will come to know, is Michael. He quickly checks out his surroundings, nothing but brick walls above him. A rumble of thunder...then rain starts to hammer down. Seems to motivate him. Michael pulls his overcoat tight around his body and dashes toward the mouth of the alley. He reaches the street just in time to see a fleet of police cars tearing around the corner, sirens wailing, heading this way. He reels back into the alley way, ducks down behind a trash dumpster, as the blue and red lights of the police cars whip past. Michael waits for the lights to disappear, then he pulls a massive ornate knife from his jacket. Michael begins to peel off his overcoat, revealing his bare chest underneath...and skin literally covered with dark tattoos. It is hard to see what they are in this light. As his coat falls to the ground, it drifts over to the brick wall behind him where it can be seen Michael's shadow is crouched over. Two large shapes unfold from his back, stretching up into what are unmistakably...the shadow of wings. The rain pounds harder, as if punishment from the heavens. The glint of the knife can be seen coming down fast. And then Michael's screams can be heard.
City Street - A short while later
Michael, face tight with pain, trench coat back on, steps out of the alley, stares with determination at a dark storefront across the street. ''Gun and Sport World.'' can be seen on the sign.
Cavernous. A Costco for survivalists. Quiet except for the sound of rain, then... SMASH! Michael drops down through one of the skylights in a shower of glass.
A little while later, Michael goes to the bathroom and tosses a first-aid kit into the sink. His trench coat falls to the floor and here in the fluorescent light, he gets a better look at his wounds. His thin but stunningly well-muscled body is tattooed shoulder to ankle with intricate writing. The man's flesh is a living book. But the writing is in no language recognizable. He turns his back to the mirror, revealing two horrifically open wounds running down between both shoulder blades. Fresh. Bloody. He threads a needle not with thread, but with fishing wire, and begins to stitch the wounds closed. Blood pools on the cement floor around his feet. A few moments later, with trench coat and a shirt back on, Michael races along the endless racks of guns, searching for just the right weapons, his every movement precise, as if he's trained his whole life for this. Weapon after ferocious weapon gets tossed into rifle bags. Whatever this guy's preparing for, it's big. Rifle bags filled, Michael heads for the exit. Stops cold. The place is locked up tight. Metal gate over the front doors, bars over the windows. How the hell's he going to get out of here?
Los Angeles, December 23rd 2020 01:05 a.m.
Two cops, world weary, cruise through downtown. Burton is behind the wheel; Estevez is riding shotgun. The police radio is abuzz with activity. It is a busy night. Burton stares out at the city's rain-soaked denizens with a deep hatred, the shadows looming in doorways, the streetwalkers.
''Those animals. Nights like this I wish I could take a match to this city just so I could watch all of them burn.'' Burton says.
Estevez laughs.
''A good ol' boy barbecue, huh?'' Estevez asks as he doesn't think Burton's serious.
Burton doesn't even smile. He's dead serious.
''A fresh start. That's what this place needs.'' Burton says and he holds his finger up like a pistol. He aims it at the people they pass, picking them off one by one.
''Pow! Pow! Pow!'' Burton says before he laughs, a dark, mean laugh. Estevez eyes his partner, warily.
''Jeez... You know Burton, I'm so happy we get to share beautiful moments like this. They really brighten my da-'' Estevez says before he's cut off by an explosion.
Through the windshield, Estevez sees a storefront explode just ahead, raining fiery debris onto the squad car. Burton slams on the breaks and the cops look up just in time to see... Michael, bulging rifle bags in each hand, stepping brazenly out of the gaping hole he's blown in the front of the store.
''Freeze!'' Estevez says.
Estevez and Burton are already out of the squad car, crouching behind the open doors, guns trained on Michael.
''Drop the bags! Hands on your head!'' Estevez says.
In the distance, the POP-POP of gunfire. The police radio crackles with urgent chatter. many voices talking at once. "Shots fired...Code Three...Officer down!" The cops shift about nervously, trying to stay focused.
Michael senses their unease.
''It's starting. There isn't much time.'' Michael says.
The cops shoot a quick, anxious glance at each other - "what the hell?" - then they turn back to Michael.
''Shut up and drop the bags now!'' Burton says.
Michael lets the gun bags hit the ground.
''Hands on your head! On your head!'' Estevez says.
Michael slowly places his palms on his skull.
''Turn around! Turn the fuck around!'' Burton says.
Michael slowly turns around. Calm. Estevez rushes in to restrain Michael, grabbing his wrist. Michael closes his eyes, a terrible decision made. And that's when he moves, a blur! In an instant Michael's broken the cop's arm, spinning him helplessly around, turning him into a human shield. Now Michael's in charge, gun to Estevez's head, facing off with Burton. Burton struggles to find a shot, but he can't.
''Let im go!'' Burton says.
''Take the shot, Burton!'' Estevez says.
''I said let im g-g-g-g-'' Burton is saying before he starts to shake, the words stuck in his throat like a skipping record.
''Burton!?'' Estevez says, wondering what is wrong with him.
The street lamps begin to flicker and strobe, adding to the confusion. Burton squeezes his eyes shut in pain, his whole-body quaking, heels clicking the pavement, as if some massive pressure were building inside him. And with the horrific sound of cracking bones, Burton's mouth begins to twist into an impossibly wide smile like a bizarre clown! His eyes snap open, focused, the force inside him now fully in control. Burton looks at Michael with calm recognition, his voice guttural... inhuman. A man possessed.
''What are you doing, Michael? These weren't your orders.'' ''Burton'' says.
Estevez looks at his partner with confusion.
''What did you say?'' Estevez asks ''Burton''.
Michael, however, seems to know exactly who he's talking to.
''I'm following my own orders now.'' Michael tells ''Burton''.
''Then you will die along with the child.'' ''Burton'' says.
"What about the Potter children! Charlie was supposed to save them!" Michael tells "Burton".
"Burton" shoots at Michael and the cop, Estevez, Estevez dying but Michael's faster, already firing back. Bullets rip up the concrete. The squad car window shatters from the force of the bullets, Burton's chest exploding!
And down he goes, leaving Michael the only one left standing. Smoke is rising from Michael's gun.
With soldier-like efficiency, Michael picks up the rifle bags and begin to load them into the trunk of the squad car. He gets in the car and floors it, roaring away, as the flickering streetlamps finally go out in rapid succession, a wave chasing him, plunging the entire city into darkness...