“Havoc, Inc.” #  16
“Five Notes In Black”
c 1998, Mark Barnard.Terrie Smith

SYNOPSIS: Deck is nearly killed by a faceless maniac, and the only clue seems to be a birthday gift he’d obtained for Chester, from a slightly suspect local shop. The real clue is far less obvious...

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PAGE ONE:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL (3/4 across page): A dingy, dark room showing clear evidence of having been untenanted for some time. A plain wooden chair and a table are the only settings. In the background is a single window, the pane splintered, and a filmy, pattern less bit of curtain billowing in the wind of the causeway outside. A single flower is framed by the window. Possibly a cobweb across one of the upper corners, in extreme foreground?

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Move in to a close-up of the delicate flower, a few raindrops falling and ricocheting off its petals. It’s planed in soil, but at this point, no specifics are visible.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Reverse shot. The window and surrounding area seen from directly outside, same level, some yards distant. The window box is clearly visible, bowed and snapped through in the middle, as if something heavy’s passed that way. Bits and clumps of the damp soil drop away, while the flower determinedly holds its ground. The curtain boils out in the mid-day air.

A laundry line extends forward and at an angle from the distant wall, linking to some unseen building “behind” the viewer. Bits of laundry sway in the breeze, throwing angular shadows on the wall.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL (half across the page and to the bottom): Steeply angling shot up the sheer side of a weathered brick building The view is somewhat framed by the edges of a shattered wooden latticework. High overhead, the telltale curtain reveals the window with the broken windowbox.

Other buildings crowd around near the upper part of the revealed scene. The locate is a narrow causeway between several tall, undistinguished buildings.

VOICE (wavering balloon): Ohhhhhhh.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL (a directional arrow leads in from the previous panel): Off-balance overhead shot. The lower floors of the bordering buildings crowd in , in a scene canted disturbingly The opening between the dilapidated structures is nearly filled with a square  storage area/ potting shed which butts up against the building with the window. The roof of this shed is a wooden lattice. Through it can be seen a mix of shadows and patched of light. A large and jagged hole is in the center of this roof. Steps lead off and down in the small gap between the shed and the neighboring building across the causeway. Possibly a battered bicycle leaning against one wall of a building? There’s life here, but nothing approaching the “bustling” stage.

PAGE TWO: Full-page panel with two inserts.

MAIN PANEL: Shooting down through the hole from a few feet above it. Visible inside are a scattering of shovels and other tools and stored items. A few plants are scattered about. The prone figure of Deck is centered in the ragged opening.

UPPER LEFT INSERT: Deck’s face. His eyes are closed and he’s VERY still.

LOWER RIGHT INSERT (square): Close-up of a scrap of folded and crumbled sheet music near the canine’s opened hand.  Several large, crude musical notes parade across the strip of parchment. A large, faceted gem is nearby, though it’s not the focus of the scene.

TITLE BAR AND CREDITS:  SEVEN NOTES IN BLACK
                                                Story: Mark Barnard  Art: Terrie Smith

PAGE THREE:

UPPER TIER PANEL: Chester in the Half Moon’s ‘Nest,’ distractedly polishing some large, ornate and costly geegaw from his collection. He’s clearly not totally in focus with his task, and looks worried.

CHESTER (thinking): Where IS Chris? It’s been hours since he left!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, setting the object down and leaning over to check the digital clock set into one segment of the deep storage groove which circles the Nest just above bed level.

CHESTER (scowling): It’s nearly 18:00. This ISN’T good. It’s only thirty minutes into the village.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL (close-up of a scowling ringtail): Even if he had errands to run, it shouldn’t have taken him five HOURS!

BOTTOM TIER  PANEL (wide shot): The control room, focus on the rear wall and parts left, including a bit of the side cabin wall in front of the hatch leading to the aft environs of the ship . Chester’s head and shoulders project through the small, square, waist-high hatchway into the Nest, as he parts the curtains and peers out (peering scene left at Orb). 

Orb drifts lazily nearby, evidently yet again making an attempt to coyly woo the bridge’s coffee maker with his usual sledge hammer delicacy. A little heart drifts above Orb -- clearly a robot in love.

CHESTER: Orb, any sign of Chris?

ORB (electronic balloon # 1):  PARDON me, Darling. SOME people have no idea of romance or tact!

ORB (electronic balloon # 2):  No. Not since early this afternoon.

PAGE FOUR:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester clambering out through the hatch onto the gridded floor of the chamber, looking pensive. Orb, in background, resuming his daffy courtship.

CHESTER (aloud): He’s in trouble. I know it! 

ORB: Now, Darling, where WERE we?

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, leaning over a low, narrow strip of the control panel along the left wall of the compartment, just forward of the “outer” door. He’s touching a control switch and a shutter is sliding upwards in a large horizontally oriented rectangle in the wall.

NOTE: The wall of the cabin forward of the hatch to the lift has a waist-high control “shelf” which extends forward. Above this, just to the front of the hatchway, is a horizontally-oriented “window” with rounded corners. It’s about 3’ high. A vertical shutter on the outside of the pane can be raised or lowered to cover it.

CHESTER: Every time he goes out alone, it’s trouble.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL (2/3 across page): Shooting up at a segment of the ship’s sleek hull. A rectangular port has opened up high in the curve of the hull, and Chester is visible through it, staring out into the darkening spaceport.

CHESTER: Not a whisker! You’d think he’d at least call. I could just...

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Close-in shot of Chester through the glassite port. He’s still leaning forward on his hands, but his head’s turned to stare down at something below and to one side. Eyes wide in alarm.

CHESTER (thinking): ...WAIT A MINUTE!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: High shot over Chester’s head and shoulders, and out through the port. The darkened tarmac below is studded at intervals with the circles of overhead lights on tall poles. Caught in one pool of light close to the ship and some distance below it is the small, prose figure of the canine.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester in motion, heading for the hatch leading out of the ship. Shouts to Orb as he goes.

ORB: Orb, open the main hold doors and lower the cargo lift! Get to the MediCenter and activate all systems. I’ll be there as quickly as I can!

PAGE FIVE:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, prone across the bottom of the panel in the extreme foreground. Beyond him is the nose support of the ship (mid-distance, so it’s fairly large in the image field), with Chester emerging from the lift hatch set into it. If the ship’s belly is visible, it’s very high overhead and is largely a dark mass. Chester’s staring at the body in the lower foreground, as he pops out.

CHESTER: CHRIS!!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Overhead shot of a frantic Chester bounding towards the prone canine.

CHESTER: Damn it! Always taking chances! You never LISTEN to me!!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL (1/3 across page): Chester, leaning over Deck, taking vital signs.

CHESTER: He’s still breathing! That’s good, but I think that arm’s broken!

MIDDLE TIER CENTER PANEL (1/3 across page): Chester, chest-up, cradling Deck’s head and looking back over his shoulder as the cargo lift lowers from the belly of the Half Moon. It’s a flat platform with a railing around it, lowered on extending arms on either end.

SOUND EFFECT: Rrrrrrrrrrr

CHESTER (thinking): Good. Now to get him inside before anything else happens!

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL (1/3 across page): Chester, bent and dragging Deck onto the lift as gently as he can. The canine outweighs him by some pounds.

DECK (wavery balloon): Ohhh... <Stunning, the vivid array of his dialog so far, isn’t it? Polish up his Oscar.>

CHESTER (thinking): Ugh! And THIS is a runt of his species?

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: The lift, rising, seen from below and slightly out. Chester’s lower parts are seen in the gap, as the duo vanish up into the glaringly lit interior of the hold.

CHESTER (balloon one): Just hold on, Chris! You CAN’T die on me!

CHESTER (balloon two): I won’t LET you!

BOTTOM  TIER RIGHT PANEL: A drip bottle, as would be used for a medical feed. Orb is hovering in close, as is Chester, who’s looking down at the unseen Deck, with an intense look on his face.

ORB: Aside from the broken arm and bruises and lacerations, his condition is stable.

PAGE SIX:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL (half across the page and half down it): Overhead shot of the sheet-covered canine on a medical couch, his left forearm splinted and wrapped, across his chest, a serum feed in the other arm. Some sort of medical computer is at the head of the bed. Chester’s standing at the left of the bed, holding the canine’s vest in one hand and leaning against the bed. Orb hangs in the air over the bed, throwing a small round shadow. Deck’s hair is down and his eyes are closed as he sleeps.

CHESTER: That’s good. You KEEP him that way, understand?!

ORB: I KNOW my job!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL : Chester, lifting the vest and exploring it’s pockets with his free hand.

CHESTER: Now let’s try to find a clue as to what happened to him.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Reaction shot of Chester, who’s found something.

CHESTER: Aha!

BOTTOM TIER PANEL (across page) Side view of the ringtail and the ‘bot, with the sheeted form of the unconscious canine in front of them. Chester’s holding a golfball sized parcel loosely wrapped in paper in one hand, and lowering the vest to the bed with his other hand.

ORB: What is it?

CHESTER: I’m not completely sure. He didn’t SAY anything, but I happen to know he was looking for a birthday present for me. Did he mention where he was going to YOU?

ORB: He mentioned an antique dealer. A Harry Lime who ‘could lay his hands on anything for a price’? Will that do?

CHESTER: Maybe. It’s a start.

PAGE SEVEN:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, pulling the paper away from the object, which is the dark, faceted stone.

CHESTER (appreciatively): Ah!

ORB: Is it real?

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL (two-shot of the ringtail and Orb): Chester, holding the gem up at arm’s length against the light to inspect the color. This is one field where he’s an expert.

CHESTER (balloon one): It looks genuine enough. A perfect emerald! Chris always has perfect taste when it comes to me. 

CHESTER (balloon two): Now...where did he GET this?

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Orb, hanging low over the crumpled wrapping paper which Chester’s discarded on the sheets.

ORB: The wrapper could be an invoice.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, picking up the sheet of paper and smoothing it out so he can inspect the characters on it.

CHESTER: No, but it was a good idea. It’s...

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Shot of the parchment in Chester’s hand. It’s got a bar of music hand-inked across the upper half, with 5 rather large, black notes spread out across the line.

CHESTER (continuing): It’s sheet music.

ORB (off-scene): That makes no sense at all.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester glancing at the hovering sphere and holding the sheet out to be clearly ‘visible’ to the ‘bot. Orb has several musical notes floating in the air nearby, as it reproduces the notes on the scrap of parchment.

CHESTER: Hmm. Orb, don’t you have a musical program inside you?

ORB: Er, yes, but...

CHESTER: Play it!

ORB: Let’s see. It’s something like... (a few musical notes drift out across the background)

PAGE EIGHT:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, lowering the sheet and heading around the end of the bed. Orb is momentarily left behind, drifting over the prone canine.

CHESTER: Catchy, but you  really can’t dance to it. I’d give it a ‘2’.

ORB: Where are you going?

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester dominant and to one side, heading for the door. Deck is lying still, in the background, with the ‘bot still hovering close.

CHESTER: I’m going to find this Harry Lime’s shop. I hope he keeps late hours, because otherwise I’m going to give him a nasty wakeup call.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester in the corridor, moving quickly and glancing, startled, at Orb, who’s suddenly advanced and is purring along at his side.

CHESTER: And where do you think YOU’RE going?

ORB: With you. The ship’s main computer can monitor Deck and handle any emergency. _I_  can tap into the municipal computers and get you there faster than any map.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester leads the way onto the bridge.

CHESTER (sternly making it clear who’s in charge): I’ll take you this time, but that's the ONLY reason.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, opening a cabinet set into the wall (rear wall, left side, near the hatch to the aft portions of the ship), its’ contents hidden behind the swinging door.

CHESTER: Just try to keep up with me.

BOTTOM TIER MIDDLE PANEL: Chester, withdrawing a handgun from the case, as he continues his remarks to the drone, which waits in the background.

CHESTER: If we get separated...

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, strapping the gun on, face turned down for the task. Orb still floats nearby.

CHESTER (continuing): ...you’re on your own.

PAGE NINE:

UPPER PANEL (across page): A cobbled street somewhere in the heart of the town. A silhouetted groundcar carrying the ringtail is paused in mid-panel, the headlights bright against the dark bulk. Orb hovers nearby, a black circle against the surrounding gloom.

Chester’s ventured into some obscure alleyway, and is waiting for the ‘bot to suggest the appropriate route. Not a soul or sign of life to be found.

CHESTER (impatient): Well? What have you turned up?

ORB: Er...not much. Mostly electrochatter. They only have a very basic computer system, and much of it seems to shut down at dusk.

CHESTER (acidic): That figures.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, rising up from his seat to glance around his surroundings.

CHESTER: Well, I didn't need a computer to tell me we’re in the bad part of town. Still, the cab driver who got him back to the  ‘port SAID he picked him up around here.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: The locale, shooting past Chester’s head and shoulders. A whitewashed wall ahead, the lower portion concealed by a slash of black shadow cast by another nearby structure.  A couple of long, shuttered windows (shutters open). Both windows are totally dark, though white, slit eyes show in the lower corner of one. Evidently they have an unseen audience.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, shot from the seat next to him strong upward angle. The gun is dominant, resting at the ready, and Chester’s gazing down at it.

CHESTER: It would help if we knew how Chris got through this maze. I’d give 1,000 credits to know what’s in his mind now.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck in the sickbay, his face contorted, though he’s still unconscious.

DECK (whispering weakly): Chester...must warn...Chester...

PAGE TEN:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL (narrow): close-up of the canine’s face, the head twisting impotently on his neck as the visions echo through his troubled subconscious.

DECK (whispering): D-don’t go...

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: FLASHBACK. An awake, active Deck in close-up, inspecting an slip of paper bearing an address.

DECK (at the top of the panel, a stemless, wavery balloon -- the floating echo of the sleeping one’s whisper): ...Don’t...go...

DECK (awake one, reading): ‘164 Rue du Chien’.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL (half-way down the page, with a wavering border, as in a dream sequence -- this effect fades after the establishing shot): Wide shot of a daylit, narrow passage between lines of plain, posibly whitewashed shops.Broadly striped awnings extend from the upper walls on each side ofthe street, creating a haphazard network of shadows in the background. Many passers-by arguing prices with vendors or going to and fro. Possibly a pickpocket at work in the background? Deck, in full figure, is proceeding forward, dominant above these daily negotiations, down the passageway. NOTE: Deck is wearing a sidearm in this sequence. He’s had an idea about the kind of place he was venturing into.

VENDOR # 1: But I do not understand? What sort of papers do you need? There are so many types...

CUSTOMER: I don’t have time to argue. They said you were the best, and I need them now. I’ll meet your price!

VENDOR # 2: The finest in jewelry! If you do not see it in my stock, I can...obtain...it for you!

DECK (thinking): Nice neighborhood! Still, the word on the street’s that if you want anything really fine or rare, you see this Harry Lime.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, pausing at an intersection, and looking around, still clearly holding the slip with the address on it. A few curious passers-by straggle by on their business.

DECK (thinking): The only trouble is FINDING him!

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck, brightening as he spots a metal plaque reading ‘Rue de Chien’ on the wall of another alley which vectors off from the one he’s been following. The opening seems extremely narrow.

DECK: AH!

PAGE ELEVEN: 

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL (just about 2” wide. The white slit of the opening of this sidecut, as seen from the dark alleyway. Deck’s silhouetted in the rectangle of light, peering dubiously in.

DECK (thinking): Now, I don’t like this at all. This has ‘ambush’ written all over it. 

UPPER TIER MIDDLE PANEL: Deck, turning sideways and easing into the alleyway.

DECK (thinking): Still, if you’re operating a shady business, I guess it makes sense.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Low-angle shot of Deck, looking up at the narrow strips of sky overhead.

DECK (thinking): A police officer would never get out of here alive!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Shooting down the alleyway, which has widened up a bit. A line of widely-spaced doors with small stone stoops stretch out on either side.Each wall is one long, pale line, with no breaks or anything to differentiate between the presumably contained businesses lurking therein. No signs or other identification visible. VERY far away is the end of the “street.”

VOICE: I can help you, possibly?

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck in foreground, looking up at a previously undetected wrought iron balcony on the left wall. An somewhat heavyset badger is there, leaning against the railing, watching the canine’s progress. He wears an immaculate white suit and possibly a fez (my mental working model’s Sidney Greenstreet, one of my favorite heavies -- get me STARTED on CASSABLANCA, sometime).

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, eyes narrows and cautious. The atmosphere of the place has him keyed up.

DECK: I’m looking for number 164.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Closer view of the other. Neatly dressed, possibly a bit too neatly. VERY respectable, which seems a bit out of place for the neighborhood.

LIME: Then you have found it. Wait a moment, and I’ll let you in.

PAGE TWELVE:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, standing before the heavy wooden door as it’s audibly unlatched. One hand is loosening the catch that holds his pistol in its holster.

SOUND EFFECT: CLICK!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: The speaker, a large badger, opening the door and inviting the fly into his web.

LIME: Welcome to my shop. And what can I do for the gentleman?

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, descending a step into the shop, which is cluttered with objects scattered about and hanging from above. Clearly Lime has a widely diverse stocking profile. The badger steps aside to allow the canine past.

DECK (looking around, a bit overwhelmed by the sight -- Black Market’s new to him): I’m looking for a gift.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck at a cluttered counter, inspecting some odds and ends as the badger crowds in close at his side.

LIME: Excellent! May I ask for what occasion? Perhaps an anniversary?

DECK (distractedly -- he’s busy browsing): No. A birthday.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Borderless reaction facial shot of Lime, looking craftily thoughtful.

LIME (thinking): AH!

LIME (aloud): Dear me. A birthday, you say.

BOTTOM  TIER RIGHT PANEL: Shooting down and at an angle as Lime, all quiet smiles and courtesy, steers a protesting Deck away from the counter. Deck, who’d located something he was interested in, is reluctant.

LIME: Sir, I entreat you. Don’t waste your time of this rubbish. My SPECIAL gifts are over here!

DECK (protesting): But...I’m interested in this...

PAGE THIRTEEN:

UPPER TIER PANEL: Deck, looking about, confused, as Lime busies himself fishing a large, flat case out of a roll-top desk behind the counter.

LIME:Nonsense.  I believe I have the exact thing here, and it is on sale this week.

DECK (thinking): What was wrong with what I had? I’ve heard of bait and switch, but he didn’t even LOOK at what I’d picked up.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL Lime’s hands opening the case. Shoot across and at Deck, staring. The raised lid obscures a view of the indicated treasure.

LIME: This is a true treasure, obtained at high cost!

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Close-up view of a large, faceted emerald, the thin light of the murky shop still managing to bounce off it, imbuing it with an almost living radiance.

LIME (off-scene): The Star of Shalamar!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL (2/3 across page): Deck arguing at scene left, though his eyes are drawn to the object in the opened case, which is on the counter before him, scintillating.

DECK: It’s nice, but I could never afford it. Maybe just a hand worked wine flask?

LIME (darkly -- smooth as ever, but there’s a nasty undertone to the polish): Nonsense. Would 2,000 credits be reasonable? I’ll even sweeten the deal.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Frameless shot of Lime, reaching into the foreground, and down at the uppermost sheet of a pile of loose papers.

LIME: Here!

PAGE FOURTEEN:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Lime, leaning toward the slightly uneasy canine, who hadn’t really anticipated such an easy sale, all grease and smooth charm. He carries it off with less panache than Chester. Lime is plucking the stone from its home. He also holds a sheet of parchment with a bar of music featuring 5 conspicuous black notes on it.

DECK: You gift wrap. That’s nice, but...

LIME: THIS is an original parchment of the noted composer Obseddon. Part of an unpublished work, in the man’s own hand. A double treasure for the price of one. Surely a truly civilized man could ask no more!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Lime, coming around the counter as he wraps the gem in the parchment and pinches the paper up so that it’s a wrap. A dubious Deck is removing the indicated amount in paper money from his wallet. He still looks a bit bewildered.

LIME: 1,000 for the both. How fortunate you caught me just as I was closing for the day! I’ll see you out.

DECK: Huh?

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, being scooted out into the passageway between the buildings. Lime is in the closing slit of the door, solid and obviously ready to be rid of his customer.

LIME: A safe journey and a word of caution. Do not linger in the streets with your purchase. There are many <giggle> unscrupulous men in the village!

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Overhead shot of Deck from only a slight height above his head. The door is closed and he’s hefting the bundle in his hand. A shadow, clearly that of a living humanoid, falls over him from somewhere above.

SOUND EFFECT: SLAM!

DECK: SOMETHING just happened, there. I’m just not sure what. Still, I DO have a nice present. Chester should love it!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL (1/3 across page): Low angle shot of Deck, looking up in surprise, as a shadow briefly falls across him.

DECK (thinking): Huh?.

BOTTOM TIER CENTER PANEL (1/3 across page): High view from a rooftop, as Deck strolls back down the narrow causeway towards the bustle of the main thoroughfare. A bit of the flat roof visible at one side.

DECK (thinking): Rain? No. Not a cloud in sight. Must’ve been a bird.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Matching shot. Deck’s further along, and there’s a gloved hand resting on the edge of the roof.

DECK (thinking): Well, time to get back to the ship.

PAGE FIFTEEN: Five panels on the page. Things happen fast from this point on.

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL (half across the page and half down it): Deck on the street, surrounded by somewhat subdued bustle. A string of tall, plain buildings stretch off in the distance past the shop he’s passing.

DECK (thinking -- balloon one): <chuckle> Even if it’s not real, it’ll appeal to the crow in Ches! 

DECK (thinking -- balloon two): I’ll have Orb do a quick analysis. If it’s paste, I’ll slip out and grab another present before we take off. I still have almost 2,000 credits left.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL (ditto dimensions): Deck from behind, trotting down a cobbled incline between two lines of dingy, tall buildings. A shadow is visible against one of the edges of walls which offset the opening of the sideturning. A gloved hand is flattened against the wall.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL (ditto dimensions): Deck, pausing and looking contemplative. He’s taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way.

DECK (balloon one -- thinking): Funny. This doesn’t look familiar. Maybe I should have turned right...?

DECK (balloon two -- thinking): I’ll give it a rest for a few minutes, while I get my bearings.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL “A” (Half the height of the previous panels): Deck reacting to a scream from high overhead (my canines as such saps for screams for help).

SCREAM (excitement balloon, with the stem leading up, out of the panel): HELP! PLEASE!

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL “B” (below “A”): Deck staring in motion, looking up. High overhead, a figure with long hair (not clearly seen) is leaning out of a window, shaking violently. An open door is at the bottom of the wall, nearby, and Deck’s making motions of going in that direction.

DECK: NOW what?!

PAGE SIXTEEN: 

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, charging in, seen POV inside the open door, where a flight of steps lead up into the darkness (shooting down the bottom few steps, angled so that it’s clear that the flight will be steep).

DECK (thinking): I think it’s the third floor!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: The head of the stairs, as Deck reaches his floor and half vaults around in an arc that’ll take him in the direction of the screaming.

SCREAM (excitement balloon -- no stem): HELP ME!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck in profile, charging a door, his arms up and linked, as he means to break it in under the force of his charge.

DECK (thinking): Here goes!

SCREAM: EEEEEE!

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck in the doorway as the panel, bowed and losing chunks, swings away from him as he hits..

SOUND EFFECT: SLAAAMMM!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, standing with his back to the viewer, at one side of the panel, crouched and ready for a wary attack. Beyond, by the window, two silhouetted (edge lit) figures are poised -- victim and captor.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: The latter figure straightening and dropping the other figure easily to the floor.

PAGE SEVENTEEN:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, staring wide-eyed.

DECK (thinking): Huh?! 

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Close-up of the prone figure’s face. It’s a padded, featureless dummy in a wig.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: The “attacker” lunging at Deck, hands out in front, fingers curled into claws. There’s no clearly definable face. The features are dark and seem oddly smooth. Deck is recoiling.

DECK (thinking): A trap!

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck ducking under the lunging figure and grabbing its dark shirt front to swing it past him. The figure’s hips slam into the back wall.

SOUND EFFECT: THUD!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: The figure down, but getting up to a crouch. 

BOTTOM TIER MIDDLE PANEL: Close-up of a shining knife in the figure’s gloved hand.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck back-pedalling.

DECK (thinking): Got to keep out of reach!

PAGE EIGHTEEN:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, still moving back. The figure is lunging forward, one clutching hand reaching for the canine’s vest front, the other drawn back, holding the knife at the ready.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck wrestling with the figure, holding both wrists tightly. He’s being driven back towards the window and the outer wall of the dingy room.

DECK (thinking): DAMN, he’s strong! Don't know how much longer I can fend him off!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Deck, tripping over the prone dummy, looking back, horrified.

DECK (aloud): Whaaa?

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck, pitching backwards, crashing, shoulders-first, thorough the window. The masked figure drops his knife and tries to clutch at him with both hands as he starts to plummet through.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: The figure framed in the window, leaning out, rigid at his loss.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL (wavery border, as the flashback ends): The figure straightening and looking back as voices come from the hallway.

VOICE # 1: I tell you, I heard noises, Vitto!

VOICE # 2: Come on. Let’s check.

PAGE NINETEEN:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Extrior view of Lime’s doorway, partly covered by the slashing shadow cast by the far wall. The door is ajar (hinges inward) and obscures a fully clear view of the room inside.

SOUND EFFECT: CRASH!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL (interior shot): Lime, tied to a chair by the counter, as Chester, leaning idly on a surprisingly clear area of the formerly cluttered countertop, holds a delicate, worked vase carelessly between two fingers and looks unconcerned. There is a nearly knee-high pile of broken rubble underneath the poised vessel.

CHESTER:  Now, let’s go over this again. My friend bought an emerald. Quite a bargain too, it seems. WHAT was the catch?

LIME: I beg of you! That vase is worth 4,000 credits!!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Facial of an innocent looking Chester glancing down in mock concern as there is a brittle “crash” from off-scene.

SOUND EFFECT: CRASH!

CHESTER:Oops.  The term is ‘was.’ Now, let’s see what ELSE you have that I’d like to get a closer look at.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Facial of a horrified Lime, who’s spent the better part of the last half hour watching his inventory being reduced to rubble.

LIME (wavery balloon): Oh, Lord, no!

BOTTOM TIER PANEL (across page): Lime leaning forward, his words coming out in a rush Chester looks accusing. Orb floats nearby.

CHESTER: Tell me. How much do you think my partner’s life is worth? 2,000? 4,000? 40,000?

LIME: All right! All right! It’s not the stone. That was merely a way to get the object out of the shop without attracting attention!

CHESTER: What object? The gem?

LIME: No, no! The parchment!

PAGE TWENTY:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL : Chester, leaning in close to a beaten Lime.

CHESTER: What’s so special about a few notes of music scrawled on a scrap of parchment?

LIME (head down): It’s not the paper, it’s the 5 notes.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, incredulous, as the slumped figure continues.

LIME:  There’s a microdot stuck on each of them. A full report on the security system of the World Financial Vault. I passed it off to your friend, because someone’s been trying to break in and get the paper from me. Someone nasty. The men who pased it on to me have all died mysteriously in the last fortnight.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, leaning back and slapping his forehead as he glances at Orb.

LIME: I, Sir, am no fool. Nor do I take undue chances.

CHESTER: And we left the paper AND Chris alone on the ship!

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Lime, appealing, as Chester starts to take his leave.

LIME: Wait, you can’t leave me here like this! My shop! This mess!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester turning and tossing a broom lightly though the air.

CHESTER: Here! You’ll have to clean up yourself. We’ve got to get home.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Silhouette profile. Chester and the ‘bot leaving the shop at a gallop. Sounds follow them.

SOUND EFFECT: CRASH!

LIME (off-scene): NOOOO!

CHESTER (fiercely, to Orb): You’d better have memorized the route in here...

PAGE TWENTY-ONE:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL (narrow panel): A gloved hand dipping into a puddle of largely congealed (yes, I know the stuff’d be dry by now -- dem dawgs has strange blood) dark droplets on a lit patch of tarmac. It’s part of a trail of blood Deck had left during his final crawl to the ship.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: The shaded figure is standing in the foreground, looking out across the tarmac. Pools of light from overhead lights lead off toward the long bulk of the Half Moon, in the medium distance. The droplets continue through the pools of light until they’d be too small to see.

CHESTER (off-scene): ...we may not have much time to get there!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, scooting full-tilt out of the narrow opening to the side street. The groundcar’s in the foreground to one side, surrounded by several small, inquisitive children. Orb is floating along in close pursuit.

CHESTER: Shoo, you kids! Orb, start replaying our route!

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester vaulting in and dropping into the driver’s seat. Orb hovers uncertainly above.

ORB: Three blocks back, then you turn left.

CHESTER: Good.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Frontal view of Chester glowering fiercely up at the ‘bot bobbing above the empty seat beside him.

ORB: Or...was it a right turn?

CHESTER (dangerously): ORB!

ORB (quickly): Left! You turn left!

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester wheels the car in a sharp U-turn.

CHESTER: You’d better be right!

PAGE TWENTY-TWO:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL:  The Half Moon’s bridge, seen POV the entry hatch. The chamber is empty. The long blade of a half-raised knife glints in the lower right edge of the panel. We’re seeing things briefly from the perspective of the intruder.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck, sleeping peacefully in the sick bay, the read-out at the head of the bed displaying “Condition Stable”.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: The intruder standing by the opening to the ‘Nest’, his knife raised to swing forward if needed, pushing the curtains aside with the other hand.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, driving wildly.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: The corridor leading back through the ship, POV the far end. In the extreme background, the intruder is leaning into the corridor through the side hatchway from the bridge.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: The groundcar approaching the massive bulk of the ship, across the tarmac.

CHESTER: If we have company, they’ll expect us through the main hatch. Orb, activate the belly hatch for the groundcar. We’ll come in the back way.

PAGE TWENTY-THREE:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: The hooded figure in the corridor, opening doors. To the left is a bit of wall where the corridor angles in a bit. There’s a small directory printed here including listings for three holds and the MediCenter, with an arrow helpfully pointing the way. The figure hasn’t progressed far enough yet to see this sign.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Interior of the secondary hold, A rectangular section of the belly has swung down to form a ramp, and the groundcar is coming up this into the hold. Various bits of machinery and casings are scattered around at the sides.

CHESTER: The first thing to do is to make sure we HAVE been boarded!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL:  Close-up of Orb, internally linking with the ship’s main computer.

ORB: The lift to the bridge was activated nine minutes ago. It’s still in the “up” position, so the visor is still aboard.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: A deadly serious ringtail. Chester fussing over an instrument panel set into the wall of the hold. The groundcar and Orb are visible in the background.

CHESTER: I’m glad we had those deck sensors installed in case of pirate raiders. Let’s see how many guests we have and where they are!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester’s face, the mouth twitching.

CHESTER: Not good. The array shows only one intruder...

BOTTOM TIER CENTER PANEL: Reversed POV, shooting the simple array over the ringtail’s shoulder. Orb hangs nearby. The screen shows a tracing of lines indicating the walls of the main corridor, with a conspicuous dot near one.

CHESTER: ...but he’s near the MediCenter!

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester’s face, borderline frantic.

CHESTER: Worse, he’s close enough that if I charge him, he’ll probably choose THAT door as an escape route.

PAGE TWENTY-FOUR:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL High overhead shot of Chester, standing, arms folded across his chest, at the terminal, with Orb drifting nearby.

CHESTER (thoughtful in a desperate sort of way): I need another way in.

ORB: I think we both know your only option. Ironic, isn’t it?

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, unenthusiastically looking up at a ventilator grille about 9’ up on the wall.

CHESTER: There’s nothing funny about claustrophobia, but there’s no other way to cut him off in time.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, tugging a large packing crate under the indicated grille, visibly straining to get the job done.

CHESTER: UGH! How much time do I have?

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: ORB (at the terminal): at the rate the intruder’s going, probably three minutes. It looks as if he’s being overly cautious, but you’ll still have to hurry.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester atop the crate, seen from high angle, reaching forward (his hands out of the panel, looking forward and up.

CHESTER: I’m going to try to get to the MediCenter and lock the door from the inside before he gets that far. Give me TWO minutes, then link with the main computer and send a call to the spaceport police!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, seen from behind, lowering the removed grille, revealing a disturbingly small, rectangular opening into the ship’s ventilator system. He’s looking back and over and reacting to the ‘bot.

ORB:  Perhaps I should...

CHESTER: YOU stay here! You’d send him bolting for cover just as much as I would.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Inside of the ventilator channel, as Chester clambers in. It’s a tight fit, and he doesn’t look completely sure of himself.

CHESTER (thinking): Ugh! Filthy and cramped. I do NOT like confined spaces!

PAGE TWENTY-FIVE:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, crawling as best he can, as he mentally ticks off the rooms he’s passing.

CHESTER (thinking): Just passed the electrical junction room...this would be data storage. Just... four rooms left to clear!

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Orb, bobbing by the terminal.

ORB: One minute and twenty-three seconds. One minute and twenty-four...

MIDDLE TIER PANEL (across page): The intruder in the corridor, shutting one door and turning down the wall to the next one, which is labeled “MediCenter”.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester in distress.

CHESTER (thinking): It’s GOT to have been two minutes! I’m not going to make it in time!

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Close shot of Deck’s face and upper chest as he lies, unconscious, on the couch. The door beyond is opening and the intruder is looking inside.

PAGE TWENTY-SIX:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: The intruder’s hooded face, reaction lines around it? 

UPPER TIER MIDDLE PANEL: Close shot on the parchment, which is on the bed, where Chester’d tossed it before leaving ship.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester’s face, with shadow lines of the grille alternating with bars of light across it. He’s on the scene a bit later than intended, and is still inside the shaft.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: The intruder, picking up the sheet music and looking at Deck.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Facial close-up of Deck, reacting to the motion.

DECK (faintly): Ohhhh... <Folks, meet the new Olivier! What a sweeping vocabulary! Is this man an acting GOD or what?!>

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Intruder, raising his knife, the paper clutched in his other hand.

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Deck opens his eyes to half-mast, clearly disoriented.

PAGE TWENTY-SEVEN: Full-page panel:

PANEL: The intruder in foreground, knife raised, jerking around in surprise as Chester catapults from the ventilator shaft, the grille careening off to one side. Chester is operating in desperate, High Fierce mode as he plummets forward and down at the figure.

CHESTER: RAAARR! <a predatory beast at large>

PAGE TWENTY-EIGHT:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, crashing into the hooded figure, who staggers back, upsetting a small table with clattery things on it.

SOUND EFFECT: CRASH! <another one...they hunt in packs>

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, in a wary crouch, as the other tries to get up, still holding the blade at the ready.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, lithely  leaning back out of harm’s way as the figure lunges forward, in an attempt to gut him.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL:  Chester, looking around as the figure reverses. There’s a floor lamp nearby with a long, straight, heavy pipe base.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL:  Chester ducks another wide, arcing stab, grabbing the lamp with an outstretched hand.

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL (1/4 across the page): Reaction shot of the masked figure’s “face.”

THOUGHT BALLOON : !

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL (3/4 across the page): Chester swinging the lamp in a double handed, broad horizontal curve that smashes into the folding figure’s midsection. He’s putting all his weight into the blow.

INTRUDER: WHOOOF!

PAGE TWENTY-NINE:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, standing expectantly, the lamp angling down to the floor, and the figure rolling off it, out cold.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, wiping a hand across his forehead, looking both tired and relieved.

CHESTER (thinking): That was too close!

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, walking across to the prone canine, his hand outstretched to retrieve the parchment.

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: Overhead view of Chester and Deck, whose eyes are slightly open, and who’s rolled his head slightly to regard the triumphant ringtail.

CHESTER:  It’s all right, Chris. You’re going to be all right!

DECK (weakly): I-I could use a fill-in...

CHESTER: Shh. Lust lie back. And you’re grounded aboard unless I go with you. No arguments!

BOTTOM TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, his hand on Deck’s forehead as the canine closes his eyes. A siren is going off somewhere out on the tarmac.

CHESTER: Now rest. I have a little cleaning up to do. We have company coming!

SOUND EFFECT: WOOWOOWOOWOOWOO! <Nyuk-nyuk! it’s CURLY to the rescue! Or a siren...>

BOTTOM TIER RIGHT PANEL: Chester, holding the parchment and looking at it thoughtfully. Deck is lying still, eyes, closed, just beyond the parchment..

PAGE THIRTY:

UPPER TIER LEFT PANEL: Two-shot of Chester and a uniformed guard with a clipboard. The guard brandishes the folded parchment prominantly.

GUARD: What he was after was this.

CHESTER (looking unconvincingly innocent): Sheet music? But, why?

UPPER TIER MIDDLE PANEL: Facial of the guard.

GUARD: The notes on this scrap of paper are overlaid with microdots.

UPPER TIER RIGHT PANEL: Two-shot, the guard folding the paper and stowing it in a shirt pocket. Chester’s looking on, suspiciously intrigued.

CHESTER: Mercy me! ‘Microdots’? Of what?

GUARD: High security information Sorry, but I can’t say more.

CHESTER: Oh. I understand.

MIDDLE TIER LEFT PANEL: Chester, turning to fuss over the unconscious canine. The guard turns to leave.

CHESTER: Anyway, I have to see to my friend.

GUARD (balloon one): Right. We’ve a lot of backtracking to do. There are 5 notes, and there are SUPPOSED to be 5 microdots. I only see 4 here!

GUARD (balloon two):  Probably dislodged along the way. Fortunately, we know exactly where to LOOK!

MIDDLE TIER RIGHT PANEL: The door closing, as Chester leans close and reaches out a fingertip to the tip of the canine’s black nose, peering closely. He’s visibly Up To Things. In specific, he’s flicking loose a microdot that he’d stuck there a few minutes before.

SOUND EFFECT (door): CLICK!

CHESTER (faintly -- under his breath): Good luck! You’ll be needing it!

BOTTOM TIER (across page with insert at right end): Chester, straightening, the finger raised near his face, looking pleased and possibly a shade wickedly gloating. Deck’s stirring and looking  bewildered, a scratching hand to his nose.

DECK: Hmmph. My nose tickles!

CHESTER: That’s all right, Chris.

INSERT: Facial and hand shot. The missing ‘dot is sticking to the tip of Chester’s finger, and he has a pleased, wicked little grin on his face.

CHESTER: They say it’s good luck!

** END **