Men, listen up!
Today, we breathe within a dream’s bated breath away from war.
Can you feel it?
EXT. TEL MEGIDDO — NORTHERN ISRAEL — DAWN
The deafening ROAR of M109A7 Paladins reverberates through the rugged landscape, shaking the ground and rattling the eardrums of all nearby.
The air crackles with anticipation as the Paladins unleash their firepower upon the enemy. With each thunderous BLAST, rocket-assisted projectiles streak across the sky leaving trails of smoke in their wake — seeking targets with deadly precision, homing in on the advancing column of Russian T-14 Armatas positioned 18 miles away.
In a cataclysmic display of destruction, a massive EXPLOSION erupts in the distance, consuming the left flank of the enemy tanks in a swirling inferno of flames and billowing smoke.
The ground shakes beneath the Rangers’ feet as the shockwave ripples through the battlefield.
A squad of RANGERS, their faces etched with determination, stand tall amidst the chaos. They exchange silent nods and glances, their unspoken camaraderie a testament to their shared purpose.
Among them stands the CENTRAL FIGURE, I. E. HUGHES, a beacon of unwavering composure amidst the chaos. His eyes gleam with an intensity of an action green-eyed figurine of a Seattle Seahawk, and with a fiery resolve, he places a Toscanello Nero Cioccolato cigar between his lips, savoring the moment.
With practiced precision, he strikes a match against the textured grip of his M4, the flame dancing in rhythm with the burning passion within his soul.
The Rangers take their positions, their anticipation palpable. They know that a memorable speech is about to unfold, a rallying cry that will ignite their spirits.
HUGHES
Men, listen up! Today, we stand at the crossroads of dreams and war. Can you feel it? The adrenaline coursing through your veins, the THUNDEROUS beat of your heart echoing in your chest. There is no sensation quite like this, gentlemen. And you know what? We are about to embark on a journey even more exhilarating than anything we have ever experienced.
The Rangers ROAR in unison, their voices merging into a resounding “HOOAH!” Their collective energy reverberates through the air, charging the atmosphere with a palpable determination.
HUGHES
Look to your left, then to your right. Take a moment to cherish the bond we share, for these fleeting moments of unity forge us into an unbreakable brotherhood. Now, cast your gaze over yonder…
Hughes points with the football in his left hand towards the raging inferno on the distant horizon, where EXPLOSIONS punctuate the skyline and billowing smoke paints a dark canvas of chaos.
HUGHES
Feel a twinge of pity for those bastards. But today, my comrades, it is our time to rise. It is our time to unleash the full force of our fury and show Navy who truly reigns supreme! Hooah?!
The Rangers respond with an emphatic chorus of “HOOAH!” Their voices echo through the battlefield, a symphony of determination and unwavering resolve.
CUT TO:
INT. CONDO BEDROOM — DAY
The shrill sound of an ALARM shatters the tranquility of the room, tearing Hughes from his blissful dreamworld. Reluctantly, he reaches over and swipes his iPhone, silencing the persistent noise. Opening his eyes, he finds himself alone, a profound sense of longing lingering in the air.
INT. CONDO HALLWAY — DAY
Hughes scans emails on iPhone as he WALKS past framed portrait of himself. A much younger man glowing with pride. The American Flag silhouettes the ruggedly handsome West Point Cadet he avoids making eye contact with.
INT. CONDO HOME OFFICE — DAY
Floor to ceiling mahogany bookshelves line three walls of the spacious hardwood floored room. Numerous philosophical, historical and ecological texts fill the shelves.
A life-sized cardboard Friedrich Nietzsche stands in the corner.
Beyond a four-paneled sliding glass-door wall, the space is extended by a balcony jutting out on to the Gulf of Mexico, high above St. Pete Beach from the 7th floor.
Hughes enters, picks up College Navy colored ball-cap in seat of high backed leather chair. Sitting at desk, he rotates the hat he now wears backwards.
An action green-eyed Seattle Seahawk figurine keeps a watchful gaze on his six as he drifts into a semiconscious persistent stare.
Built into far bookcase wall, a muted 65-inch flatscreen is tuned to BBC World News. Framed by hundreds of volumes related to military conflict, a speechless screen depicts a scene of total devastation. Plumes of black smoke billow from a smoldering crater.
Across bottom scrolls details of carnage in silence… massive chemical explosion… thousands feared dead… mandatory evacuation has been extended to 5 mile radius around exclusion zone… .
With earbuds in place, Hughes types FEVERISHLY on his iPad.
Suddenly, he pauses, his eyes captivated by something beyond the screen.
Out of the corner of his eye, a menacing “HITCHCOCKIAN” flock of pelicans momentarily block out the incoming light, their silhouettes dancing across the room.
FADE TO:
BLACKNESS
FLASHBACK BEGINS:
EXT. MYSTERIOUS FOREST — DAY
As the blazing orb ascends above the horizon, casting an otherworldly glow, Hughes finds himself standing in the heart of a mystical forest.
The air is charged with anticipation, and a sense of solitude envelops him. He takes hesitant steps, guided by an unseen force, through the enigmatic darkness.
The SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS echoes through the silent woods, accompanying him on his journey. Each step leads him deeper into the unknown, his senses heightened by the ethereal ambiance.
The forest floor shifts beneath his feet, transitioning from solid ground to an almost sponge-like texture.
Emerging from the dense darkness, a man materializes before Hughes, his presence cloaked in an unsettling mist.
The figure moves with a deliberate slowness, as if time itself bends to his will.
Intrigued and captivated, he follows the enigmatic figure deeper into the monochromatic forest.
Towering trees surround them — Bald Cypress, Red Maples, Red Cedars, and Green Buttonwoods — casting elongated shadows that add to the sense of foreboding.
The absence of color creates an eerie stillness, as if the world itself holds its breath, waiting for something significant to happen.
The path he follows becomes littered with fallen leaves and branches, gradually thinning as he nears a clearing.
The SOUND of his boots reveals remnants of an old road, worn and weathered by time. It beckons him forward, leading him toward a revelation that awaits.
Emerging from the forest, the blazing orb now high in the sky reveals the path Hughes has traversed.
The remains of Interstate Two-hundred-seventy-five stretch before him, its once bustling lanes now abandoned and reclaimed by nature.
He gazes upon the skeletal ruins of what was once a thriving city — Saint Petersburg.
Across the bay, a massive blaze consumes the horizon, sending plumes of BLACK SMOKE billowing into the air.
The acrid scent fills Hughes’ nostrils, a stark reminder of destruction and loss.
The skyline, once a symbol of vibrant life, now stands as a haunting silhouette against the fiery backdrop.
Undeterred by the devastation, Hughes ascends the mighty Sunshine Skyway Bridge.
The view from above offers a panoramic tableau of destruction — a city reduced to rubble, engulfed in flames that seem to reach towards the heavens. It is a scene of both awe and despair, the magnitude of the catastrophe beyond comprehension.
As he takes in the apocalyptic landscape, his grip on the edge of the bridge slips. His left foot fails to find solid ground, and he plummets into the void.
His body twists and turns, caught by the remnants of collapsed rebar. Time seems to slow as he hangs precariously, suspended between life and death.
Feeling the wind whip around him, his torn clothes fluttering like tattered wings, Hughes cries out in frustration and defiance.
HUGHES
Damn it Damocles — drop the Sword already!
His words echo through the desolate air, blending with the distant roar of the inferno.
With one final struggle, the rusted iron gives way, and Hughes falls into the abyss, his descent accompanied by the haunting sound of crumbling debris.
FLASHBACK ENDS.
BACK TO SCENE
INT. CONDO HOME OFFICE — DAY
Looking out onto paradise, Hughes pays no attention to the silent broadcasted chaos unfolding to his right.
The translucent reflection in the glass wall reveals his transfixed, unblinking stare in the direction of the ominous morning storms in the distance.
LATER. A flash of lightning breaks his empty gaze.
Looking down expecting thunder, he hears nothing as a VIBRATING iPhone slowly dances across his desk.
Flipping iPhone over, an angelic face appears on screen, with contact information labeled “BELOVED”.
