Chapter II: Close Encounters
Cover page: Sandra Hollis in her 'Duality' costume, standing on a rooftop at night, with the New York skyline behind her and a full moon in the sky.
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Page 1: Panel 1: (Darkness.) Journal: (Top) "Rorschach's Journal, Oct. 11, 1988." (Middle) "Darkness within darkness." (Bottom) "The path to illumination."
Panel 2: Journal: (Top) "Feels good to wear true face again. The troglodytes will know who rules here." (Bottom) "Right leads to light. Footsteps echoing solitude, the dust of ages settling on my hands."
Panel 3: Journal: "Walls are cool and dry, ingrained with faint tang of old death. Rats seem to have picked the place almost clean of human occupation."
Panel 4: Journal: "Soon now. The light beckons, though it remains concealed. Curve in wall leads to station."
Panel 5 (Page-length): (Dim light reveals the subway tunnel; at the far end the raised pavement of the station can just be seen. Rorschach's hat and coat-clad back are shadows in the left foreground, against the wall.)
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Page 2: Panel 1 (full page): (Rorschach at the end of the tunnel, peering around at the station. A burning oil lamp gives off the only illumination. Two homeless men sit on unrolled sleeping bags on the floor. A couple of cardboard boxes are nearby, against the wall. There's a turnstile on the wall between Rorschach and the other two, leading into another open area with an enclosed office and a booth, both barely seen in the low light. One of the homeless men sings "Doo Wah Ditty" quietly. The other, the one who would be facing Rorschach, is slumped, snoring lightly, in a sitting position.) Homeless Man #1: "There she was, just a-walkin' down the street, singin' doo wah ditty ditty down ditty doo..."
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Page 3: Panel 1: (Rorschach climbing quietly up onto the platform.) Singer: "Snappin' her fingers and shufflin' her feet, singin' doo wah ditty ditty down ditty doo..."
Panel 2: (Rorschach skirting the platform, moving closer to the homeless men. The singer hums the chorus.)
Panel 3: (POV from behind the sleeper's back. Rorschach looms behind the singer.) "Before I knew it, she was walkin' next to me..."
Panel 4: (Rorschach pokes the singer in the back. The singer jumps.) Singer: "Hey!"
Panel 5: (The singer lands on the sleeper, knocking him over. They end up in a heap.) Sleeper: "Mmmph?"
Panel 6: (Shot of the two homeless men, the sleeper looking confused and the singer fearful.) Singer: "Ain't no call to scare a body half to death, sir. We don' mean no harm."
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Page 4: Panel 1: (POV facing the wall, Rorschach at the left of the panel, the homeless men cowering at the right, boxes and shopping cart to the middle, beyond the sleeping bags.) Rorschach: "What're you doing here?" Singer: "This's our place. We live here."
Panel 2: (Same shot.) Rorschach: "Hurm. Not anymore." Sleeper: "Who're you?" Rorschach: "Your worst nightmare unless you're gone in five minutes."
Panel 3: (Rorschach pulls two bills out of his pocket and holds them up.) Rorschach: "Otherwise, a dream. Fifty for each."
Panel 4: (The singer reaches for the bills, and Rorschach pulls them back.) Rorschach: "Like most dreams, you will forget me. Permanently. And you won't come back." Singer: "Anything you say, sir."
Panel 5: (Rorschach hands each a bill.) Rorschach: "If you should suffer from unfortunate memories, I will hunt you down." Singer: "Y-yes, sir. We got it." Rorschach: "And leave the lamp. A fair deal."
Panel 6: (The homeless men pack up their few belongings in the two boxes, pick them up, and head down the tunnel back the way Rorschach came. Rorschach has the lamp in his hand.) Journal: "Pathetic. Weak-willed and fearful. They are easy."
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Page 5: Panel 1: (Carrying the lamp, Rorschach climbs over the turnstile. POV from behind him, the booth just beyond the turnstile and the office on the wall to the right. The windows of both are boarded up.)
Panel 2: (Rorschach at the office door, pushing on it. It creaks open without resistance.)
Panel 3: (He walks in and inspects the door. The office beyond him is about 10' x 10'; a desk and chair are pushed up against the opposite wall. To his left can be seen a row of file cabinets in the flickering lamplight. Everything is in some state of disrepair or vandalism.) Journal: "Lock broken but deadbolt intact and open. Favored by fortune again."
Panel 4: (He closes the door and locks the deadbolt.)
Panel 5: (He sits on the floor near the desk, and blows out the flame in the lamp. A clink is heard as he places it on the desk.)
Panel 6: (Darkness.) Journal: "More tired than I can ever remember. Must sleep. Tonight will be soon enough."
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Page 6: Panel 1: (External view of a large house in New York. Large, two-car garage to the left, small lawn in front, picture window overlooking the lawn on the first floor, porch and doorway to the right. Two windows on the second floor, a lamp showing through the window on the viewer's right through white gossamer curtains. Mailbox on the lawn near the street, next to a short driveway to the garage. Small video cameras can be seen in various places around the property. The POV is far enough to the right to show the name 'Hollis' in white lettering on the mailbox. A wrought-iron fence surrounds the property.)
Panel 2: (POV inside house, looking over a comfortable couch and recliner toward the window with the curtains. A TV set sits just in view to the left, against the wall. Central Park can be seen through the window. Sam Hollis/Dan Dreiberg sits at the left side of a table with a breakfast setting for two, reading the front page of the Gazette. He's wearing a dark blue, plush robe and matching slippers. A couple of covered silver serving trays sit on the table, glasses of OJ, etc. An analog clock on the wall facing Sam reads just after 10:00.)
Panel 3: (Shot of the front page of the Gazette from Sam's POV. The headline reads "TENSIONS IN KASHMIR". The subhead on the left reads, "Hindus targeted by a number of rebel groups". A picture of two Kashmiri men holding assault rifles above their heads, cheering; the caption reads, "Kashmiri rebels celebrate their renewed pursuit of secession from India." The right hand column subhead reads, "Kremlin mum on Red Square rioting". Once again, the small print is just barely unreadable.)
Panel 4: (Sandra Hollis/Laurie Jupiter in plush purple bathrobe, pushing the top of the paper down; it's now folded at the crease, and the headline and part of the photo are visible, upside-down.) Sandra: "Good morning, sweetie!" Sam, smiling: "'Morning, sleepyhead."
Panel 5: (Sandra bending down to kiss Sam. Sam's hand reaching out to touch Sandra's arm. Both still have blond hair.)
Panel 6: (Closer shot, still including both of them, but the paper is folded and on the table to Sam's right. Sandra is seated opposite Sam now, pulling a napkin off the table.) Sandra: "What's for breakfast? I'm famished!" Sam: "Cheese eggs and sausage, toast, and fruit salad." Sandra, smiling: "Mmm...you take such good care of me."
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Page 7: Panel 1: (Same shot, Sandra dishing up some food.) Sam, still smiling: "Of course I do; wouldn't want you to get wandering eyes. Besides, we need to keep our strength up. Adventuring takes a lot of energy."
Panel 2: (Sandra with the plate of food in front of her.) Sandra, between munches: "Awww...who else could match your mind? And how could I even think of a regular guy when I've got a hero?"
Panel 3: (View of Sandra over Sam's shoulder, still grinning.) Sam: "Well, there's always Adrian Veidt." Sandra: "Hahaha...that arrogant schmuck? I doubt he has time or feeling for anyone other than himself. Not to mention that I have a thing against mass murderers."
Panel 4: (Close-up of Sandra; she's lost her smile.) Sandra: "And federal investigations. Yuck...let's talk about something else."
Panel 5: (Back to a view of both of them.) Sam: "OK, how's your Mom doing?" Sandra: "Feisty as ever. I don't think she's happy unless she has something to complain about. The latest is a plumber that wants to tear up her front yard."
Panel 6: (Same shot.) Sandra: "Oh, and it seems she has a suitor! A new neighbor remembers her from her Minutemen days, and she says he's been chasing her since he found out she lived there." Sam: "Good for her. I'm surprised she doesn't have more older gentlemen calling on her. She was pretty famous."
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Page 8: Panel 1: (Close-up of Sandra.) Sandra, eating heartily: "Well, she mostly keeps to herself these days. And she can be abrasive at the best of times." Sam, out-of-panel: "Oh, I don't know. She was very nice to me, though I did catch a hint of what you're talking about."
Panel 2: (Shot of both of them.) Sandra: "She was on her best behavior then. Besides, you were probably the best-looking man she'd seen in ages." Sam, smiling: "Why, thank you, sweetie."
Panel 3: (Sandra takes his hand and kisses it.) Sandra: "It's only the truth. Especially since you lost your spare tire."
Panel 4: (Sam rests his hand on the edge of the table.) Sam, looking down: "I miss it a little bit. It was like an old friend." Sandra: "Well, I don't. You're all sexy and hard now." Sam, grinning: "I'd better be, after two years of crunches."
Panel 5: (Shot from behind Sandra, standing in front of him. She holds open her robe.) Sandra: "I think that deserves a reward. How 'bout you?" Sam: "Definitely!"
Panel 6: (View from in front of them, walking out of the room, Sandra leading Sam by the hand. Her robe is open, hanging down and covering half of her breasts, and revealing that she's wearing only a pair of panties underneath.) Sandra: "I'll show you crunches."
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Page 9: Panel 1: (The two of them standing at the other end of the hall, heading through the open door to their bedroom.)
Panel 2: (Sam closing the door behind them.)
Panel 3: (View from the floor, the dark blue and purple piles of their robes and slippers. Their lower legs and feet are the only parts of them that are visible, angled to indicate they're sitting on the bed.)
Panel 4: (View from the foot of the bed, Sandra lying on top of Sam, kissing him, and the bedsheet half-covering them. End tables and lamps to either side of the bed, with an intricately-carved headboard in cherry wood. A small, round table is flanked by two comfortable chairs to the right of the bed, in front of a window whose dark curtains are closed to keep out the light.)
Panel 5: (Same shot, Sandra now sitting up on Sam, reaching behind her under the sheet.) Sandra: "Oohhh, Tiger came to play!"
Panel 6: (Same shot, Sandra now supporting herself with her arms on the bed.) Sam: "You'd better believe it, baby."
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Page 10: Panel 1: (The two lying in bed, spent, Sandra in Sam's arms. Sam kisses the top of her head and Sandra snuggles.)
Panel 2: (Sam's POV; he sees Sandra's 'Duality' mask sitting on a dresser on the far wall, leading to a flashback...)
Panel 3: (Their basement, a large wooden crate sitting at the far end. The front wall of the crate is open, with a very small part of one side of Archie being visible from this POV. The ceiling is very solidly reinforced and about 12 feet high; hydraulics can be seen in the ceiling above the crate. A computer server sits on one wall; two IBM XT 286 personal computers are on desks nearby, with comfortable-looking leather chairs in front of them. One PC is connected to the server, the other isn't. Another TV set is nearby. Several Nautilus machines line one wall. A worktable, safety lamp, and toolboxes are on another; obviously Sam's workshop. A large binder is open on the table, with drawings of what look like the directional thrusters used in VTOL aircraft like the Harrier. Beneath the binder is a large map of the subway system that's pinned to the worktable. Sam sits there, watching Sandra admire her new costume before a full-length mirror. It consists of: a short, zippered leather jacket and leather pants, each black on one side and white on the other; the line of demarcation runs straight down the middle of the front and back, and there are small screened holes down the sides to provide ventilation. One white and one black leather calf-length boot, to match each side; a cotton turtleneck blouse in the same design as the jacket and pants, one black and one white holster, each strapped to the appropriate side on the upper thighs, and matching cloth gloves. The mask is very similar in style to Rorschach's, but instead of his ever-changing pattern it matches the rest of her costume. Thinly-screened ear- and nose-holes match the color surrounding them. The eye-holes aren't screened. The mask sits on the worktable. Sandra stands in front of a full-length mirror.) Sandra, preening: "I LOVE it!"
Panel 4: (Sam rises and walks up behind her. He reaches for the black gun with his right hand and pulls it out of its holster.) Sam: "OK, time for the grand tour. This is a Model 1911A1 .45 automatic, with 8-round magazine. The small pockets inside your jacket can hold extra clips."
Panel 5: (Sam spins the pistol on his finger and replaces it deftly in its holster. Sandra shifts her weight to the right to make it easier for him to reach the other holster. His right hand rests on her right hip, just above the gun.)
Panel 6: (Sam pulls out the white gun with the other hand.) Sam: "Now, this one's my own design. It runs on CO2, and fires capsules filled with fine kevlar netting. The net isn't big enough to entrap an opponent, but it can definitely distract them for a few seconds if you hit them in the face or a hand carrying a weapon. It might even knock down someone who's running away. Range: about 10 to 30 feet. Inside 10 feet, the net won't be fully deployed when it hits. The clip has built-in CO2 charges, 5 shots per clip. I have three clips now, and I can make more if you want."
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Page 11: Panel 1: (Same shot; Sam replaces the white gun.) Sam: "The leather pieces and mask are reinforced with sheets of kevlar. It should be able to stop most smaller rounds, and minimize the damage of bigger ones."
Panel 2: (Sandra turns sideways to the mirror; the ventilation holes are apparent.) Sandra: "Very flattering. And practical, too. I do believe you've thought of everything!"
Panel 3: (Sam behind her now, both perpendicular to the mirror, looking into it. His hands are on her stomach.) Sam: "Well, I haven't finished your rebreather yet, and even with the ventilation it could get warm in there when you exert yourself." Sandra: "Since we'll only be running at night, I doubt that'll be much of a problem."
Panel 4: (Sam flashes back, this time to the two of them sitting in their new kitchen. It's painted a khaki color, and the counters are tile matching the wall color. Packing boxes are all over the place. A portable TV on the counter shows the New Year's Eve Ball dropped and the year '1986' lit up to the cheers of the crowd.) Commentator: "I don't think any New Year has ever been as welcome as this one. May 1986 be full of prosperity and life."
Panel 5: (Sam and Sandra standing in front of the kitchen table, kissing and hugging, blocking the view of the TV. The crowd is singing 'Auld Lang Syne', of course.) Sam: "Happy New Year, hon." Sandra: "Happy New Year, Dan."
Panel 6: (They're now seated at the table, holding hands across it. POV is from the TV, so they can both be seen from the side.) Sam: "Do you realize you just slipped?" Sandra: "Hmm?" Sam: "You called me 'Dan'." Sandra: "Oh jeez, I'm sorry, sweetie."
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Page 12: Panel 1: (Same shot.) Sam, grinning: "And you're the one who's always nervous about being seen. Alright, we need to agree on a few things." Sandra nods, looking penitent.
Panel 2: (Same shot, but they're not holding hands anymore.) Sam: "From this point on, Dan and Laurie are dead. We're Sam and Sandra now, in all things, at all times." Sandra (petulantly): "Sandy." Sam: "Sandy. But you get my point."
Panel 3: (Same shot.) Sam: "It's hard now, but we'll get used to it. I know I've caught myself almost calling you Laurie several times. We have to think of each other as the new 'us'." Sandy: "I know. It's just...well, like you said." (She smiles.)
Panel 4: (Close-up of Sam. He smiles back, taking her hand under the table.) Sam: "Good. Now, come over here. Let's talk about adventuring. If you're serious about it, we need to lay down some ground rules."
Panel 5: (Sandy sitting in Sam's lap, his left arm supporting her back and his right around her waist. Her right arm rests on his shoulders.) Sam: "First, we'll have to come up with new costumes and names for our alter egos, completely unconnected with Silk Spectre and Nite Owl. We'll deal with that later, once we've settled in." (Sandy nods.)
Panel 6: (Same shot.) Sam: "It'll take some time to make our costumes. I want you to promise me you won't go righting wrongs until they're ready." Sandy: "Of course...barring unforeseen developments." Sam (wryly): "That's what I'm afraid of."
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Page 13: Panel 1: (Sandy, chuckling, with her hand on Sam's cheek.) Sandy: "Don't worry, dear heart, I won't go flying off half-cocked."
Panel 2: (Sandy's hand on Sam's arm.) Sam: "We'll have to be *really* careful. The Keene Act is serious business. If we get caught, they'll clap us in irons. And after Rorschach's escape, you can bet they'll put us where it won't be nearly so easy to break out. That means we go out only at night, and do everything we can to remain anonymous, costumes or not."
Panel 3: (View facing Sam, Sandy on the left side) Sandy: "What about Archie? We might as well hang signs around our necks." Sam: "I'll see what I can do about that, but until then, we'll have to use him only in the direst of need. We have the hoverbikes, if necessary." Sandy: "Alright."
Panel 4: (Same shot.) Sam: "It goes without saying that we can't tell anyone about this, not even your Mom." Sandy: "Mmm...that'll be tough, but I think I can manage. She'd love it." Sam: "She wouldn't love getting a subpoena, I'll bet." Sandra: "OK, OK, I get it. All of it."
Panel 5: (Sandy standing in front of the table, facing Dan.) Sandy: "(sigh) Well, these boxes won't unpack themselves. Want to get to it?" Sam (chuckling): "Not really. But let's do it anyway."
Panel 6: (Sam and Sandy in the mirror again, she in her 'Duality' costume, her hands around his back and his on her belly. Sandy squeezes him.) Sandy: "Hey...anybody home?" Sam: "Sorry, I was just remembering Moving Day."
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Page 14: Panel 1: (Sam goes back to the workbench and picks up Sandy's mask.) Sam: "Want to try on your mask? Let's see the full effect."
Panel 2: (Sandy puts on her mask and assumes a gunslinger pose, hands over guns.) Sandy (slightly muffled): "This town's not big enough for the both of us, Marshal!"
Panel 3: Sam (chuckling and raising his hands): "Alright, Annie Oakley, you got me." Sandy: "Hahaha." Sam: "Oh, and we can see about getting you some goggles, too, if you want." Sandy: "No, thanks, I'm already wearing enough hardware for now. I can see through this just fine."
Panel 4: (Sam indicates a manikin standing near the back wall.) Sam: "Want to take a few practice shots with the net gun? It'll take some getting used to." (Sandy pulls her mask off.) Sandy: "Sure."
Panel 5: (Sam sitting on a stool at his workbench, Sandy and the manikin in the foreground.) Sam: "The capsules are slower than bullets. They'll tend to drop more quickly in flight, so you'll want to aim a little bit above your intended target." Sandy: "A little Kentucky windage, eh? OK."
Panel 6: (Sandy in balanced shooting stance, facing the manikin, net gun in her right hand. She fires and hits the manikin's face on her first try.) Sandy: "Hey, this is really light!" Sam: "It's mostly plastic. Nice shot, by the way. Now back up some and aim for a hand."
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Page 15: Panel 1: (Sandy fires again, this time just a little low, missing the manikin's right hand.) Sam: "The longer the range, the more you'll need to correct."
Panel 2: (Sandy turns a little and fires from behind her back, this time hitting the manikin's right hand.) Sandy, grinning: "Like that?" Sam: "Yes, that should do."
Panel 3: (Sandy squeezes off the last two shots in the clip, this time in regular firing position; one hits the manikin's left hand and the last hits its feet.) Sam: "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you've fired a gun before." Sandy, still grinning: "Eh, maybe once or twice. Which brings something up. The net gun...it's going to be awkward drawing that with my offhand." Sam: "Well, you could learn to fire it with your left hand, or just draw with the left and switch to the right. It doesn't have a lot of recoil, so I'd suggest the former.
Panel 4: (Close-up of Sam) Sam: "Tactically, it's better if you have the .45 available to your firing hand...just in case. We wouldn't want you getting shot trying to draw it from your off side, and I don't think it's a good idea to have the handgrip pointing forward. Too much of an enticement for an opponent to try to grab it from its holster."
Panel 5: (Shot of both; Sandy's now facing Sam.) Sandy: "Wow...you really do think of everything!" Sam, chuckling: "Well, I try. Protecting you is a good motivator."
Panel 6: (Sandy saunters up to Sam.) Sandy: "That's what all the incredibly handsome, brilliant guys say." (Sam grins and hugs her.) Sam: "We'll see about building a firing range down here eventually. Until then, I guess we'll have to do it the old-fashioned way, find a gun club or something."
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Page 16: Panel 1: (Sam holds Sandy loosely around her back, so he can see her at a little distance.) Sam: "Are you still set on 'Duality' for your name?" Sandy: "I think it fits just perfectly. We lead a double life anyway, why not refer to it? 'I am Duality.'" Sam: "How about 'The Dualist?' Or 'Double Trouble?' Sandy, laughing: "No, I like Duality. Beats some moldy old Greek's name."
Panel 2: (Sam, affecting mock hurt.) Sam: "I'll have you know, Palamedes is an important figure in Greek mythology. Virgil and Plato wrote of him. He invented the majority of the Greek alphabet, currency, weights and measures, and more. He even talked Odysseus into fighting the Trojan War." Sandy: "Well, you are a silver-tongued devil."
Panel 3: Sam, grinning again: "Only for you, sweetie." Sandy: "Hey...where's your costume?" Sam: "Not finished yet; it'll be ready in a day or two." Sandy: "Well, hurry. I'm feeling the itch for adventure." Sam: "Patience, Prudence."
Panel 4: (Sandy kisses him.) Sandy: "That's not one of my stronger virtues." Sam: "Well, then, you should practice it, and it will be." Sandy: "Hurry anyway." Sam: "Only for you."
Panel 5: (Return to the present: Sam and Sandy, lolling in bed.)
Panel 6: (Sam gently and carefully extricates himself and gets up from the bed, leaving Sandy snoozing.)
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Page 17: Panel 1: (Interior of Adrian Veidt's office at Karnak. He wears his Ozymandias costume and sits in a comfortable leather chair at his desk, a computer console to his left, desk set in the middle, and a small pyramid off the upper right corner of the desk set. A multiline phone sits to his far right. A small, black-and-white monitor sits next to the phone. Right now, it's grey. The chair is swiveled to the right; he's looking out of the office window at the Antarctic landscape.)
Panel 2: (Voice coming from the phone intercom. It's Adrian's personal assistant, Stefan Schmidt. His face appears in the monitor next to the phone. The Veidt logo is on the wall behind him.) Stefan: "Mr. Veidt? I have Mr. Samuels on line 1." (Adrian presses the phone's speaker button.) Adrian: "Thank you, Stefan."
Panel 3: (POV looking across the desk at Adrian. A copy of the latest New Frontiersman issue sits atop the desk in front of him, open to the article about Adrian.) Adrian: "John...how are things going over there?" Samuels: "Busy, sir. We anticipated your call. I have assistants preparing briefs already." Adrian: "Excellent. I want libel charges brought against The New Frontiersman, and a restraining order against further publication of the story. And I want them litigated out of existence. Bury them under piles of documents." Samuels: "Yes, Mr. Veidt."
Panel 4: (Same shot.) Adrian: "I'd also like phone numbers for the Director of the FBI and the Director of its Criminal Investigative Division." Samuels: "Just a second." (Sound of shuffling papers.) "I'll facsimile those over to you as soon as we're finished. However, I wouldn't suggest you actually call them. Let us take care of that for you."
Panel 5: (Adrian has swiveled his chair to face the magazine.) Adrian: "Don't worry. I'll get to the bottom of this without endangering our position. I'll get back to you to let you know what I've learned." Samuels: "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Adrian: "Goodbye, John." Samuels: "Goodbye, Mr. Veidt."
Panel 6: (Interior of Samuels' office in a high-rise overlooking Manhattan. Samuels sits at his desk, and another attorney sits across from him, both in high-backed leather chairs. Both wear single-breasted suits. Samuels puts the phone back into its cradle.) Samuels: "He wants to talk to the FBI himself. He asked for the Director's and the CID's phone numbers." Attorney: "Hopefully we won't have another mess to clean up." Samuels (pressing the intercom button): "Susan, come in here, please. I want you to facsimile a list of numbers over to Mr. Veidt's office."
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Page 18: Panel 1: (Adrian's office. Adrian pushes his intercom button.) Adrian: "Stefan, I want you to notify Public Affairs. Have them get in touch with John Samuels about drawing up a denial to the New Frontiersman story. I want it running internationally no later than tomorrow. And I want Nova Express to run an editorial for its next issue criticizing The New Frontiersman for muckraking and shoddy journalism." Stefan: "Right away, sir." Adrian: "Thank you."
Panel 2: (Adrian picks up the magazine and the pyramid from his desk. He flicks the pyramid and the top opens to reveal a flame. He holds the magazine and lights its edge, then drops it in a metal wastebasket by the side of his desk.)
Panel 3: (The pyramid now sits on the corner of the desk nearest the window, on the same side as the wastebasket. Adrian moves the wastebasket a little away from his desk with his foot as flames peak at its top.)
Panel 4: (Adrian at the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking out at the landscape, the magazine burning merrily behind him.) Adrian: "I didn't start this fight, but I will end it. Nice of Hector Godfrey to offer himself up on a platter this way. I'll turn this to my great advantage."
Panel 5: (Adrian passing the wastebasket, walking back toward his desk.)
Panel 6: (Adrian standing before his phone, pushing the intercom button again.) Adrian: "One more thing, Stefan. You should be getting some phone numbers from Samuels soon. When you do, please get me the FBI Director." Stefan: "Yes, sir."
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Page 19: Panel 1: (Adrian reaches into a desk drawer and pulls out a remote. He looks up at a wall of TV screens, opposite the window.)
Panel 2: (He points the remote at one of the screens and punches a few buttons. The channel shows a picture of himself in an inset.) Newscaster: "...and calls to the New Frontiersman's editor and FBI headquarters have not been returned at this time. No statement has been released by either. In other news, the Mets play for their lives at Dodger Stadium tonight in Game 6 of the National League Championship..."
Panel 3: (Now seated in his chair and facing the screens, Adrian mutes the newscast.)
Panel 4: (An agent in classic FBI dress and carrying a manila folder rushes to a door in a utilitarian, tiled hallway. The door reads, simply:
'James P. Moynihan
Director, CID')
Panel 5: (The agent knocks twice and opens the door.)
Panel 6: (He closes the door behind him. The waiting room is wood-paneled and contains several not-particularly-comfortable-looking chairs, an end table with several magazines on it, a desk with a secretary sitting before it, and a plain-looking door to her right.) Secretary: "Good morning, Special Agent Carson."
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Page 20: Panel 1: (The intercom to the secretary's right buzzes.) Moynihan: "Send him in *now*."
Panel 2: (The secretary makes a gesture to indicate that the agent should fix his tie. He nods and smiles at her, his free hand at his tie.)
Panel 3: (The agent opens the door to reveal a well-appointed, plush office. An expensive desk filled with files, a phone, and a computer console sits on a deep blue pile carpet. A credenza filled with books sits on the wall behind the high-backed leather chair. An American flag stands on the right side, a flag with the symbol of the FBI on it is on the left, and a framed photograph of President Ford hangs on the wall. A chair sits directly in front of the desk. The chair is pushed back against the credenza and the Director is standing with his fists on the desk, none too happy. His tie is loosened and he looks like he hasn't gotten much sleep.) Moynihan: "Special Agent Carson. Sit down." Carson: "Yes, sir. Good morning, sir."
Panel 4: (The Director is plainly not happy. Carson takes his seat. POV from behind Carson.) Moynihan: "No, Carson, it is not a particularly good morning. It's not even a mediocre morning. Guess who I just got off the phone with?" Carson: "Umm, Director Summers?" Moynihan: "Give that man a prize. I knew there was a reason we made you a Special Agent." (Carson is diplomatically silent.)
Panel 5: (Side shot of both men.) Moynihan: "I'll bet you can even guess what the topic under discussion was." Carson: "Yes, sir, I think I know all too well." Moynihan: "Alright, then perhaps you can tell me how a magazine got information about a secret and very preliminary investigation? The Director is threatening to crawl up my ass with a microscope, and you know who will suffer when that happens." Carson, mumbling: "Shit rolls downhill..."
Panel 6: (Same shot.) Director: "What?" Carson: "Yes, sir." Moynihan: "That's what I thought you said. Do you have any answers for me?" Carson: "Well, sir, I have a preliminary list of everyone that had knowledge of the investigation." (He places it on the Director's desk.) Carson: "I've also transmitted a copy to the Internal Investigation Officer."
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Page 21: Panel 1: (The Director picks up the file and sits heavily in his chair.) Moynihan: "What else? Likely suspects?" Carson, adjusting his tie: "Most of them, sir. Any number could have had motives. However, the nature of the leak indicates that it wasn't someone with operational knowledge or, if it was, the reporter they talked to got it wrong." Moynihan: "Do any have ties to the New Frontiersman?" Carson: "I'm having that checked now, sir. It will be several hours at least before I have preliminary answers, unless an obvious link is discovered."
Panel 2: (Close-up of the Director.) Moynihan: "I need you on a shuttle flight to the New York office within the hour. The warrant will be ready by the time you get there. This has absolute top priority. Nothing else goes forward before this investigation is done. And I want you to talk to no one but me, the Director, or the IIO about it. Everything by the book."
Panel 3: (Side shot of both.) Carson: "Absolutely, sir." Moynihan, muttering: "Someone's going down for this one, and it won't be me." Moynihan: "Alright, that's all for now. Let me know the second you get anything, no matter how small." Carson: "Yes, sir."
Panel 4: (Carson leaves through the door; the secretary is standing on the other side so that he has room to pass.)
Panel 5: (The secretary inside Moynihan's office, the door closed behind her.) Moynihan: "Yes, Miss Heller?" Miss Heller: "Sir, I have a message from Adrian Veidt. He called a few minutes ago."
Panel 6: (View from behind Miss Heller; she's primly dressed in a conservative pant suit and standing in front of Moynihan's desk now; he's still seated in his chair.) Moynihan: "Wonderful. What does he have to say?" Miss Heller: "He asked some specific questions that I turned aside, then offered a list of a thousand Democratic candidates to whom he contributed $2000 each. I told him I wasn't sure what value it might have, but that he should feel free to send it over." Moynihan: "Well done, Miss Heller. Thank you."
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Page 22: Panel 1: (View from outside, Miss Heller walking out the door, turned toward Moynihan, still sitting behind her.) Moynihan: "When and if you get that list, please copy the Director, the IIO, and Special Agent Carson on it. And get me the New York Bureau Chief." Miss Heller: "Yes, sir."
Panel 2: (Moynihan reaches into a desk drawer and pulls out an opened roll of BufferAll antacid. No Veidt logo is in evidence.) Moynihan: "I'm getting too old for this."
Panel 3: (He pops an antacid into his mouth and chews, then turns to his computer.)
Panel 4: (Press room at FBI Headquarters. It's as full as it's ever been. TV reporters and cameramen fill all the seats or stand around the room. A man in a grey suit and dark blue tie walks in. He steps up to the podium on a raised stage; a large FBI symbol adorns the wall behind him. Immediately the place is filled with a babel of voices.) Reporter #1: "Mr. Smith!" Reporter #2: "Sir! Do you have any comment on the New Frontiersman article?" Reporter #3 (facing his camera): "Tom Siemens for WNBS News. The scene at FBI headquarters is chaotic..." Reporter #4: "The FBI Press Liaison is about to speak..."
Panel 5: (The liaison raises his hands and bellows): "This press conference will not continue until everyone is QUIET!" (The hubbub dies down; the only noise now is muffled whispers.) "That's better. Now, then, let's have some semblance of order here. You will speak only when invited to. Are we clear? Good."
Panel 6: (The liaison's hands are now on the podium.) Liaison: "Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Robert Smith. I'm the FBI's Press Liaison, and I will have a short statement, after which point there will be a short question-and-answer period. I will not hesitate to eject anyone who doesn't abide by simple etiquette."
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Page 23: Panel 1: (He launches into his statement without preamble.) Smith: "While it is FBI policy not to comment on investigations, the circumstances of this situation dictate some explanation. As I'm sure you know by now, the magazine The New Frontiersman has published an article claiming that Adrian Veidt is under criminal investigation by the FBI. This is not the case."
Panel 2: (Print journalists are scribbling furiously, and there are muffled noises, but no outbreaks.) Smith: "The FBI conducted a routine investigation of campaign donations to a multitude of candidates during the campaign season. Mr. Veidt's name was included on a list of donors to Democratic candidates; however, and let me stress this, he is neither a suspect nor has there been any indication of impropriety on his part in any way. Any report otherwise is, quite simply, untrue. Now, then, are there any questions?"
Panel 3: (About forty hands go up. Smith indicates a reporter sitting in the front row.) Reporter #1: "Is it true that Mr. Veidt gave over two million dollars in campaign donations?" Smith: "I don't know the exact amount, but as I understand it, that is a good ballpark figure. Next? You." Reporter #2: "Where did the New Frontiersman reporter get his information?" Smith: "You should know better than that. No comment. Next? Yes."
Panel 4: Reporter #3: "How could he have donated that much money legally?" Smith: "I'd suggest you do some legwork on that, but I'm not aware of any case in which Mr. Veidt donated more to any single candidate than the maximum amount allowable by law. Yes? You." Reporter #4: "What is that amount?" Smith: "It varies depending on the city, state, or district, but for most offices determined in the general election it's $2000. Now, then, does anyone have any questions directly relating to the Bureau, or are we done? Yes."
Panel 5: Reporter #5: "Are you investigating the source for the New Frontiersman article?" Smith: "No comment. Anything else? Alright, thank you for your time and attention."
Panel 6: (Veidt's office; he's sitting in his chair watching the press conference end. On the TV, Smith walks out the door of the press room amid a general hubbub.)
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Page 24: Panel 1: (Hector Godfrey in his office at The New Frontiersman; he's seated in his chair in exactly the same position as Veidt is in the previous panel, leaning back in his chair, legs extended and feet crossed. He's also watching the press conference on a large TV, holding a remote. Same shot as above on the TV. Hector's phone rings.)
Panel 2: (Hector sits up and grimaces, knowing what's coming.) Hector: "Hector Godfrey. Yes, Mr. Greene, I just got finished watching it. He was a freelancer who works for us on and off, name of Willie Brown. Or, I should say, worked. He guaranteed me the information was correct, but wouldn't reveal his source."
Panel 3: (He reaches for a folder on his desk.) Hector: "How am I supposed to verify an anonymous source? And how would you suggest I confirm an FBI investigation? They don't just hand out that kind of information."
Panel 4: (Hector looking sour.) Hector: "Yes. I've drafted a retraction for the next issue. It will run on page 3, in the Editorials section. I realize how serious this is. Yes, sir. Mmhmm. Alright. Goodbye, Mr. Greene."
Panel 5: (Hector scrubbing his face with his free hand as he hangs up the phone. He looks up to see Seymour standing at the door.) Hector: "We're in it now, m'boy. The pinkos'll try to crucify us." Seymour, looking distressed: "Should I start looking for another job?"
Panel 6: (Close-up of Hector; he looks fatigued.) Hector: "Might not be a bad idea. Might not be bad at all."
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Page 25: Panel 1: (Sam's basement. He's sitting at the PC connected to the server and typing at the keyboard.)
Panel 2: (Sam moves to the other PC and inserts a 3-1/2" disk into the floppy drive, types in commands, and the 'da-dong da-dong da-dong' of a modem is heard. Today's issue of the Gazette is folded into quarters and sitting on the desk next to the keyboard; the headline of the story that's visible reads "NIXON STILL 'FIGHTING'". Photo to the right of the non-visible copy shows Nixon standing on a platform covered with bunting, giving his famous V for Victory sign, both his hands upraised and smiling widely. See Article 2.1 below.)
Panel 3: (Shot of the monitor screen. It reads: "
AUTHENTICATING...
CONNECTED.
300 BAUD
PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD: ********
PLEASE WAIT.
LOGIN APPROVED.
C:\ dlcopy j:\secure\ b:
THIS IS A RESTRICTED AREA.
PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD: ********")
Panel 4: (Sam looks up to see Sandy standing near him, still wearing robe and panties, two mugs of coffee in hand. The screen has cleared, and now reads only:
DOWNLOADING...
1.2K of 157K
ESTIMATED DOWNLOAD TIME: 9 MIN 50 SEC")
Sandy: "A little refreshment? Sam: "Perfect timing. I was about to fall asleep waiting for this file to download. Too damn slow. Do you know, I could drive over and copy it to disk myself faster than this?" Sandy, grinning: "As a certain white-haired crimefighter tells me, the less public activity the better."
Panel 5: (Sam sipping his coffee, from over Sandy's shoulder.) Sam: "Hurm. White-haired, huh?" Sandy: "Well, in your alter ego, anyway. You manly man, you."
Panel 6: (Sam chuckles, picks up the quartered paper and swats Sandy's fanny with it.)
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Page 26: Panel 1: (Sandy pulls the other chair over near Sam's. She takes the newspaper from his hand while she's still standing.) Sandy: "The wheels of government keep on turning, Nixon or not." Sam: "Hmm? Oh, yes."
Panel 2: (Sandy reclined in the leather chair, her legs up on the desk and reading the newspaper. Very reminiscent of her father at the Crimebusters meeting, only she's not smoking. View centered on the computer screen, showing their profiles to either side. The time on screen now reads 9 min 15 sec.) Sandy: "Adrian, you've been a bad boy." Sam: "Oddly enough, he's innocent." Sandy: "(snort) Adrian's about as innocent as he is humble."
Panel 3: (Shot of Sam.) Sam: "No, no...I just saw it on the news. The Feds are falling all over themselves to say Adrian isn't under suspicion."
Panel 4: (Shot of Sandy, brandishing the front page and pointing to an article in the lower left headed: "VEIDT ACCUSED OF CORRUPTION". It's the same copy Sam was reading at breakfast.) Sandy: "Then what's this all about?"
Panel 5: (Back to Sam.) Sam: "I'd say that's about libel proceedings against the New Frontiersman."
Panel 6: (Shot of both, Sam sipping his coffee. The download time now reads 7 min 12 sec.) Sandy: "Not the brightest bulbs in the box, are they? Why would they hang themselves out to dry like that?" Sam: "You never know...maybe they were hung out...or at least given enough rope. Maybe Adrian has enemies we don't know about, or it's Adrian himself. I'll start looking into it once the download is done."
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Page 27: Panel 1: (Sandy, with her face screwed into an expression of distaste.) Sandy: "The Teflon man gets a ding, even if it's not true. Good for him. He deserves so much more..."
Panel 2: (Sam putting his mug down on the desk.) Sam: "Be that as it may, I wouldn't bet against Adrian. By now he's on top of things, figuring out how to wring every last benefit from the situation."
Panel 3: (Sandy putting the paper down on the desk, sitting upright, looking over at Sam. The screen reads 6 min 59 sec. She looks like a stormcloud brewing.) Sandy: "I want to make that man pay. Until we do something about it, his shadow will hang over us." Sam: "That's much easier said then done, m'dear. We need every advantage before we can even think about taking him down." Sandy: "I know, it just...frustrates me."
Panel 4: (Sam with a wry grin.) Sam: "I never would have guessed."
Panel 5: (Sam has lost his grin.) Sam: "We're building toward it, though. Adrian took almost twenty years to plan and pull off his own personal genocide. Rome wasn't burned in a day."
Panel 6: (Sandy, deadly serious now.) Sandy: "Millions of souls crying out for justice..." "I hope I live to see him die. I'll spit on his grave."
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Page 28: Panel 1: (Sam sipping from his mug.) Sam: "You should appreciate Greek tragedy more, sweetie. I'd prefer to see him imprisoned for life as a symbol of man's inhumanity to man. Prometheus bound."
Panel 2: (Wide shot again. His mug is back on the desk. The screen reads 6 min 22 sec.) Sam: "Greek tragedy abounds with stories of men (and women) who are struck down by the gods for their pride, the tragic heroes. Oedipus, for instance: he killed his father and slept with his mother unknowingly because of his pride, and in the end blinded himself out of guilt." Sandy: "Such perfectly uplifting stories your Greeks have!"
Panel 3: (The screen reads 6 min 12 sec.) Sam: "It's a cautionary tale. The moral is: don't get above yourself or the gods themselves will strike you down. Or, in biblical terms, pride goeth before a fall."
Panel 4: (The screen reads 6 min 5 sec.) Sandy: "Where are the gods now? Why haven't they ground Adrian into little Veidtburgers?" Sam: "His tragedy isn't finished yet. As for the gods, they're personifications of the unexplained, symbols of powers beyond ourselves that weigh humanity. They're outlets for the urge to spirituality, and sources of conflict and learning."
Panel 5: (Sandy getting up from her chair and leaning over toward Sam.) Sandy: "You know what, smart guy?" Sam: "What?"
Panel 6: (Sandy sitting in Sam's lap.) Sandy: "Sometimes you're too smart for your own good." (She kisses him.)
End panel: "Only the dead have seen the end of war." - Plato
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Article 2.1
News page mockup:
NIXON STILL 'FIGHTING'
San Clemente, CA - Despite reports to the contrary, an internist on the staff of ex-President Richard Nixon categorically denied that his charge's health has deteriorated in the last few weeks. In a statement released to the press, Dr. Raymond Alpert invoked Mark Twain to answer recent rumors that the President is at death's door:
"It has been reported in several periodicals that President Nixon is fighting for his life. I don't know who their sources are, but on behalf of the entire family, I would like to state that this is not the case. The President is resting comfortably and is in no danger. He is under the best of medical care and he is a fighter. In short, reports of his demise have been greatly exaggerated.
"I would once again like to acknowledge the millions of well-wishers who have sent cards, letters, and telegrams. Your support is very much appreciated; it gladdens the President and family to know he is so highly regarded. There's every reason to believe he'll be able to appreciate it for a long time to come. Thank you for your prayers."
Dr. Alpert is a board-certified neurologist who was most recently a staff member at Walter Reed Hospital. He joined President Nixon's medical team after the dignitary collapsed backstage at a campaign stop in Canton, Ohio on April 2. Mr. Nixon was scheduled to speak at a gathering of American Legion members.
The President was rushed to Mercy Medical Center in Canton, where he was initially listed in 'critical but stable' condition. He was diagnosed with a transient ischemic attack (TIA, or stroke). Within hours it was determined that he would no longer be able to execute the duties of his office, and Vice President Gerald Ford was sworn in as the 38th President of the United States.
President Nixon's condition was upgraded to serious six days later, and he was airlifted to Walter Reed Hospital, where he convalesced for several weeks before returning to his home in San Clemente. In weekly updates since that time, the President has been variously termed as 'improving,' 'alert,' and 'fighting.'
(Photo to the right of the copy shows Nixon standing on a platform covered with bunting, giving his famous V for Victory sign, both his hands upraised and smiling widely. The caption reads: "President Nixon speaking in Reading, PA just days before he suffered a stroke.")