Act I, Scene 3

EXT. A CROWDED STREET IN MANHATTAN

A chauffeured black sedan makes its way up to an upscale-looking restaurant and drops off three black-suited SECTION 4 BOARD MEMBERS (COLONEL EDISON, MAJOR BANKS, DR. BROYLES and AGENT HAWKINS) carrying attaché briefcases. The men exchange glances as they head into the front door of the restaurant.

INT. AN UPSCALE NEW YORK RESTAURANT

A hostess immediately recognizes the board members and flashes them a welcoming smile. The board members look around at their surroundings in fascination, impressed with the decor. Somewhere in the background, a piano softly plays a jazz tune. Crystal glasses clink at tables covered in fine linens, and oil paintings of shepherdesses and lyre players are on every wall.

HOSTESS: Gentlemen? You're Mr. Van Damme's guests?

BANKS: Guests? I thought he was meeting us.

EDISON: And we gave him a job so we didn't have to call him "Mr. Van Damme."

The hostess is taken aback, unsure of how to respond to the men's veiled hostility. But she soon flashes the board members another charming smile.

HOSTESS: He's waiting for you in the back. If you'll follow me?

The hostess guides them to a private dining room in the back of the restaurant, past tables full of finely dressed men enjoying gourmet meals and puffing cigars.

When they get to the back, VICTOR VAN DAMME—a handsome, dark-haired man in an expensive dark green suit with a steel-grey dress shirt—is sitting alone at the table, lounging nonchalantly in a leather chair. Victor smiles and rises to greet the board members, giving each of them a firm handshake.

VICTOR: Good to see you guys again. Glad you could see me.

BROYLES: Nice scenery, Victor. Classier than a boardroom.

EDISON: Y'know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were desperate to impress somebody.

HAWKINS: Appreciate the free lunch, Vic. Hope you didn't spend too much on it.

VICTOR: I didn't. I own this restaurant. (beat) Lunch, then?

The board members sit down warily at the table. A waiter tries to bring them wine lists, but Edison waves the waiter away.

VICTOR: Try the braised veal. Chilean sea bass is on special today if you want something a little more—

Banks holds up a hand to silence him.

BANKS: Victor, I don't want this dragging on all day. Do I really need to remind you how close we are to the launch?

VICTOR: You know how long I've waited for this mission, Alan.

BANKS: We all know, Vic. And if it weren't for your work on the research capsule, we wouldn't be going up there.

HAWKINS: No one appreciates your hard work more than we do. You've done more than we can ask of anyone at Section 4.

EDISON: But there's still something bothering you about this mission. Isn't there?

We briefly cut to the pianist in the back playing a jazz tune.

When we rejoin Victor and the board members in the dining room, they've dug into their lunch (filet mignons, fish, shrimp cocktails, caviar, wine, etc.), and are waiting for Victor to say his piece.

Victor pulls a disc-shaped metal device from the pocket of his blazer and places it in the center of the table. He taps a few buttons on the center of the disc, and it whirs to life, projecting a small colored hologram of a sleek, silver space probe-not that unlike the one from the opening scene. Sensing his cue, a nearby waiter dims the lights in the dining room. The light from the hologram dances over the men's faces.

VICTOR: The Artemis Project was the culmination of ten years of my life. I started Vae Victus Industries with a vision, and I gladly would have gone to my grave perfecting it.

EDISON: Victor, we've gone over this: we took you onto Section 4 with the understanding that you'd detached yourself from Vae Victus. You're a public servant now.

VICTOR: Working on a public project that wouldn't exist if not for a decade of Vae Victus' work.

BANKS: We all know that.

EDISON: Vic, whatever your contributions might be, they don't give you the right to make threats. If you're thinking about trying to strong-arm us-

VICTOR: Please, I don't make threats. And I respect you too much to try anything underhanded. All I want is your ear. For ten minutes, at least. Haven't I earned that?

EDISON: You've earned our ear. If you want our cooperation, you'll have to try a little harder. So tell us: what are you proposing.

Victor taps a command into his hologram projector, and it projects a 3-D map of a series of asteroids, in flawless high-definition detail. After a few seconds, the map segues into a map of a moon with a dense, orange atmosphere.

VICTOR: I want you to have some faith in the Artemis Project. I want you to consider leaving the mission in Artemis' hands.

BANKS: Meaning?

VICTOR: Make it an unmanned mission. Don't put good men at risk, studying something that we can't possibly understand.

HAWKINS: The fact that we don't understand the Anomaly is precisely why we our best scientists investigating it. We appreciate all that you've given us with your work on the probes, but—

Edison cuts Hawkins off, his tone growing impatient.

EDISON: I'm not trusting Section 4's biggest expedition to a machine.

VICTOR: Those machines mapped the Belt with in greater detail than NASA could in nearly six decades of work. They were the first man-made objects to map the oceans of Titan. They brought back samples of—

EDISON: And they made your fortune, Vic, didn't they? You might be a billionaire today because of your probes, but this isn't your mission. It's headed by a qualified—

The first signs of irritation begin to show on Victor's composed, chiseled features.

VICTOR: Look, Ed, you're never gonna hear me questioning Reed Richards' qualifications. He's a prodigy in his field, and—

EDISON: That's right. A prodigy who chose to spend the rest of his career with us. You still have trouble accepting that, don't you? When was the last time anyone told you "No"?

VICTOR: Richards was my friend before Vae Victus existed! I think I'm more qualified to judge the man than some—

EDISON: "Judge"? Who the hell gave you authority to judge anyone?

BANKS: You're talking about the most gifted physicist on our payroll. A scientist with years of NASA missions under his belt. Want to choose your words with a little more tact?

VICTOR: I'll tell you something about Richards: he's a dreamer! He's a young, starry-eyed idealist who thinks space is a playground for the curious!

BROYLES: Even if that's true, that "starry-eyed idealist" is your superior now. And if you can't deign to trust him, maybe you'd rather sell your talents somewhere else. Tell me: how many firms on Madison Avenue are going to give you clearance for a mission like this?

Victor wills himself to calm down, choosing his words carefully.

VICTOR: I...respect Richards. As a scientist. But the man's no leader. If he'd had to make half of the hard decisions that I've made-

BANKS: We trusted him with an entire shuttle crew. Is our trust not good enough for you?

There's a long, awkward pause.

EDISON: Remember when I said you'd earned our ear? Any more behavior like this, and you'll find us deaf.

BANKS: I worked for NASA once, you know. Just like Richards. They have a motto there. Do you know what it is?

VICTOR: No.

His words are hard and clipped. He's not used to being on the receiving end of a lecture, but he knows he's on thin ice with his superiors.

BANKS: Five simple words. "For the Benefit of All." I took that creed to heart when I came to Section 4, and I hoped you would too. We're not investigating the Anomaly to fill our trophy wall. If everything goes according to plan, the public may never know what we do up there. But it's for them that we're doing this. Whatever that thing is, it's bigger anything that we've ever explored or catalogued. Whatever victories we make out there, we make them for the people on the ground. The people that could get hurt by what they can't understand.

VICTOR: Yes. Yes, of course. For the people.

The board members look at Victor with suspicion, unsure of his sincerity.

EDISON: I think we're done here. Victor? I want to see you at the launch out West.

BROYLES: However you might feel about Richards, he needs everyone's support right now.

The board members get up to leave, leaving Victor alone at the table, his expression enigmatic. When they all shut the door, a look of pure contempt crosses his face. He reaches over to the hologram projector, which is still working, and keys in another command. It displays a hologram of Dr. Storm's spaceship from the previous scene.

He pulls out a cell-phone, dials a number, and waits for a voice to answer on the other end.

VOICE: You got The Mole.

VICTOR: Meeting's over.

VOICE: And?

VICTOR: They wouldn't listen. The mission's going ahead as planned.

VOICE: What's that mean for us?

VICTOR: It means we're going to have a lot of blood on our hands when this thing's over. Can you live with that?

VOICE: For the right price, I can live with anything.

VICTOR: Good. Keep everyone on alert. I'll be returning to the Island soon. Keep it ready for me.

He hangs up, pockets the hologram projector, straightens the lapels of his suit, and walks out of the dining room.