Clockwork Angels: Comic Script (11 page)

PANEL 3

With the College in view, the Anarchist crouches in another dark alley, the briefcase open on the ground, as he pulls out his new disguise, a white alchemist-priest’s robe.

CAPTION (ALCHEMIST)

Scrambling all the clocks in Crown City caused great turmoil, but not nearly enough. To have the right effect, I have to think bigger …

PANEL 4

The Anarchist emerges from the alley dressed as an impressive, officious-looking alchemist-priest.

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

The bomb at the coldfire nexus in Chronos Square failed. My would-be protégé Owen Hardy was unpredictable.

I can respect unpredictability.

PANEL 5

The Anarchist walks through the big stone gates of the Alchemy College while a red-guard Regulator stands there at attention, acknowledging him.

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

That’s the nature of chaos. Oh well.

REGULATOR GUARD

Welcome, Philosopher-Professor. Do you need a class schedule?

ANARCHIST

Schedules have not changed in more than a century, Captain. I have my work well in hand. All is for the best.

PAGE 10

PANEL 1

The disguised Anarchist walks through the looming, empty halls of the Alchemy College. There are numerous clocks on the walls (with alchemy symbols instead of numbers on the clock faces); the classroom doors are closed. The closed doors have large alchemy symbols on them.

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

I want to create a new world order, an Instability as a cure to the Watchmaker’s paralyzing Stability.

Only turmoil can strengthen human hearts and minds, cure them of deadly apathy.

PANEL 2

The Anarchist stops at a big vault door sealed with gears, pistons, locking mechanisms. Another red-uniformed Regulator stands there like a guard at Buckingham Palace. The vault door has the honeybee symbol emblazoned in the middle. The Anarchist extends a document.

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

Complete and total freedom! Even if the sheep don’t know what to do with it.

ANARCHIST

I have orders from the Watchmaker. He suspects certain irregularities in alchemical supplies shipped from the Atlantis mines.

I must have access to the alchemy storage vault—and complete privacy.

GUARD

Yes, Philosopher-Professor! As the Watchmaker commands.

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

Well and truly blessed, indeed …

PANEL 3

Small panel, close-up, focusing on the guard’s hands. The guard works a complex locking mechanism that glows blue with coldfire in the circuits.

SFX

Snikkk whrrrrrrrrrrrr

GUARD

There you are, sir.

PANEL 4

The Anarchist is smiling as the guard opens the looming vault doors (which cuts the honeybee symbol in half)

ANARCHIST

Thank you. That will be all. Go guard some other door …

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

But bringing down civilization is difficult work.

PANEL 5

Big panel: the Anarchist stands in the vault, and it’s like Ali Baba in the treasure vault of the 40 thieves. Shelves everywhere, sacks of powders, sealed kegs, jugs, bottles, vials. All lit by floating coldfire globes.

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

I wish I had an apprentice … but Owen Hardy is gone now, across the sea. I have to trust that harsh experience will shape him into an ally.

I have faith in entropy.

ANARCHIST

Ah … it’s been a long time.

PAGE 11

PANEL 1

The Anarchist grabs supplies from the shelves, loading his arms with packages, bottles, jars of chemicals.

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

The smell of the chemicals, the ingredients of the universe

Elemental salts … mixed acids

Chemical symbols of my rage.

PANEL 2

In the center of the vault is a big table, surrounded by alchemical symbols—like an altar. The Anarchist begins stacking his chemicals there, dumping them out in a big mess.

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

Humors of green sulfur

Powdered dreamstone

Distillate of red coal

—Pools of poison, to create … magic!

PANEL 3

Small panel. Close-up of the Anarchist’s eyes. They look very black (as if he sees the world through lenses painted black).

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

As I learned so well, back when I was the Watchmaker’s devoted student, sometimes experiments go wrong …

PANEL 4

Small panel. The Anarchist’s hands (one scarred, the other with the Precipitate tattoo) install one of the ticking composite-timepiece detonators on the pile of chemicals, like the one Owen deactivated at the end of issue 3.

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

And sometimes they go wrong
on purpose
.

PANEL 5

Big panel. The Anarchist stands back in his robes as scarlet smoke (has to be scarlet!) rises up from the piled chemicals. The position of his figure, plus the robes should look *just like* the figure of the Necromancer on the cover of the
Caress of Steel
album.

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

Eight minutes … very precise.

PANEL 6

The Anarchist hurries out of the vault.

PAGE 12

Four small panels across the top, big panel for most of the page below.

PANEL 1

Ornate clock on the wall (like the one from the
Caravan
CD-single cover).

PANEL 2

Close-up of chemicals, detonator ticking, smoke swirling.

CAPTION

Action.

Reaction.

PANEL 3

The Anarchist hurries out the door of the College building.

PANEL 4

Chemicals again, more smoke, black liquid bubbling around the detonator.

CAPTION

Random interaction …

PANEL 5

Big panel, most of page. The Anarchist walks away from the Alchemy College as it EXPLODES behind him (very similar to Hugh’s painting on p. 179).

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

In order to change the world, you have to make an
impression
.

CAPTION (ANARCHIST)

Oh, they’ll never forget me!

PAGE 13

PANEL 1

Nick, we will want to develop a great look and feel for the “character” of Poseidon City. Should be seedy, warped, Tim Burton-esque … exotic and foreign, but not all that wonderful.

Owen walks through the city with the dark and twisted buildings all around … He hasn’t quite figured out that this is Harlem instead of Oz. The skies are gray. There are people around, but no smiling faces.

CAPTION (OWEN)

In my mother’s books about far-off lands, I read about Poseidon City. I wonder if the author ever actually visited here.

CAPTION (OWEN)

This isn’t quite how I imagined the city would be …

PANEL 2

Three scruffy-looking men come up to him, smiling with predatory friendliness.

LEADER

Well, now, what do we have here? A stranger?

OWEN

Yes, I’m visiting Atlantis. I’ve come from Albion.

MAN IN GROUP

Fresh off the boat then, are you?

PANEL 3

Owen smiles, oblivious, as they make a show of patting him on the shoulders and back in false friendliness. Owen thinks they’re welcoming him.

LEADER

Welcome to Poseidon City, young man. We’re very friendly to newcomers here.

PANEL 4

The men walk away down the street while Owen stands there in front of a shop building with open shuttered windows above. He looks after them.

OWEN

An odd welcome, I suppose … but nice enough.

PANEL 5

With a look of dismay, Owen pulls out his pockets only to find them empty.

OWEN

My money! I’ve been robbed!

PANEL 6

From the window above, a woman dumps out a chamberpot, and the flow barely misses Owen as he jumps out of the way.

SFX

splussshhhhhh

PAGE 14

PANEL 1

A forlorn Owen sits on a wooden crate outside the door of a tavern, elbows on knees, head in his hands.

OWEN

Now what am I going to do?

PANEL 2

The tavern owner bursts out of the front door armed with a broom, chases Owen away.

TAVERN OWNER

No loitering!

PANEL 3

Owen stands in front of an inn, looking hopeful, holding his porkpie hat in his hand. A rail-thin, sour-faced innkeeper in an apron stands at the door, skeptical.

OWEN

Excuse me, sir, but I could really use a helping hand. I’m a hard worker and I’d be happy to do chores. Would you have any food you can spare?

INNKEEPER

Free food? If that’s what you’re after, go around back. We keep a banquet ready for people like you.

PANEL 4

Behind the inn in a dark, claustrophobic alley, Owen looks in dismay at a garbage pile, discarded food, rotting fruit and vegetables. A couple of rats.

CAPTION (OWEN)

I was brought up to believe in our loving Watchmaker …

PANEL 5

Small panel. Owen fishes a rotten, half-eaten apple out of the pile.

CAPTION (OWEN)

I was taught that we get what we deserve …

PANEL 6

Nighttime, Owen finds a dank, dark corner of the alley to curl up in, holding the spoiled apple as his only food.

CAPTION (OWEN)

What did I do to deserve this?

PAGE 15

PANEL 1

Establishing shot of a sunrise over Poseidon City. It looks like a giant picked up armloads of buildings and just dumped them in a pile.

CAPTION (OWEN)

When you have nothing to do, the days and nights tend to blur. I’ve lost count.

PANEL 2

Looking more disheveled than before, Owen stands at a streetcorner, leaning against a wall, nowhere to go.

PANEL 3

Owen places his hat on the ground for donations, stands there juggling stones, the tip of his tongue between his lips as he concentrates. Passers-by sneer at him, though. A group of young toughs is in the background sneering and shouting.

CAPTION (OWEN)

Even optimism fades after a while. I wish these people would give me a chance.

SNEERING MAN

Get a job!

SNEERING WOMAN

Parasite!

PANEL 4

Owen runs, looking panicked, as a gang of toughs chases after him

CAPTION (OWEN)

They seem more like predators than neighbors.

PANEL 5

Running, Owen ducks down a twisted alley, a sunken doorway, where a set of steps leads to a door marked UNDERWORLD BOOKS.

PANEL 6

Owen looks at the displays of books in the dirty, smeared window. One is prominent, ALBION, ATLANTIS, AND BEYOND. Maybe he has his hands pressed against the window.

CAPTION (OWEN)

I think Poseidon is a city without friends.

PAGE 16

PANEL 1

Owen bursts through the door (side of panel); main panel is Commodore Pangloss at the front desk holding a bundle of books wrapped in brown paper and string. Mrs. Courier has just handed it to him, and she smiles. [See the novel for full descriptions of the characters.] On the table is a plate of grapes and cheese.

MRS. COURIER

There you go, Commodore. Happy travels and happy reading.

COMMODORE

Always a good tale, Mrs. Courier.

PANEL 2

Small panel. Owen is grinning, points to the book in the window.

OWEN

That book in the window … my mother had that book. Back in Barrel Arbor. In Albion.

But this one is different. The world looks different …

PANEL 3

Big panel showing the Underworld Books, a warm, cozy place with shelves filled with amazing tomes. Mrs. Courier and Commodore Pangloss there. If possible, include the tall moonstone mirror beside the front table (like an old-fashioned dressing-room mirror, but the mirror itself is an opalesque stone surface … a mysterious dimensional doorway, but we won’t talk about it.)

MRS. COURIER

We sell all different editions here from all the many possible worlds. Endless variety! Commodore Pangloss here is our best customer.

COMMODORE

I read them aboard my airship during those long journeys to the alchemy mines …

PANEL 4

With a kindly expression, Mrs. Courier slides the plate of grapes and cheese close to him, as Owen looks intensely grateful.

MRS. COURIER

We all need to nourish our minds … but you look as if you need a meal more than you need a book, young man.

PANEL 5

Outside in the streets again, dusk. Owen looks across the street to a baker’s shop, where a hard-looking baker is sweeping out in front of his shop. The baker wears a surly expression. Owen waves and calls out to him.

CAPTION (OWEN)

In Poseidon City, kindness is as rare as a precious gem. In the following days, I went back to look for Underworld Books again, but I could never find it.

CAPTION (OWEN)

I didn’t find kindness elsewhere, either.

OWEN

I could help you do the sweeping, sir. I don’t mind chores.

PANEL 6

Small panel, close-up of the delicious-looking pies and pastries in the window of the bakery. The baker looks surprised and skeptical.