Act 1

Starring:

Stephanie March as Bonnie, Brad Dourif as Brell, Lacey Chabert as Skye Talisker, Elijah Wood as Jeff Lindquist, Alicia Silverstone as Heli, Asia Argento as Marie, Thora Birch as Tracey Hausser and Helen Shaver as Becca Giles 

Guest Starring:

Philip Seymour Hoffman as Robert Devlin and Michelle Rodriguez as Kadin Van Helsing

Fade In:

Int.

Watchers Council – Faith and Robin’s Apartment – Morning

Robin slowly opened his eyes and blinked at the slivers of sunlight filtering through the bedroom’s window blinds. As he lay on his back, shirtless, he glanced over at Faith, who had stolen all the covers during the night and was now completely wrapped in them. She slept soundly, facing away from him. Robin sighed briefly.

He swung to the side of the bed, letting his one intact leg dangle. From next to the bed, he picked up his prosthetic and neatly fitted it over the stump of his left leg. With a moment’s effort, he stood up and limped unnaturally across the room to his dresser, pulling out a navy polo shirt.

A few minutes later, the now-dressed Robin picked up his cane from where it leaned against the wall. With one last look at the undisturbed Faith, he went out the bedroom door, shutting it behind him.

Once the door was closed, Faith slowly opened her eyes, rose up and gave a heavy sigh.

Cut To:

Int.

Watchers Council – Lobby – Minutes Later

Leaning on his cane for support, Robin hobbled into the empty lobby. He stopped and, for a few seconds, everything was silent. The sounds of Andrew firing up the kitchen could be heard in the distance. At that moment, the phone at the reception desk rang loudly, intruding upon Robin’s reverie. Cursing under his breath, Robin traveled over to the desk as fast as he could.

He got to the desk as the phone rang for the fourth time. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” he grunted, sitting down in the chair and picking up the receiver.

“Council of Watchers,” he said automatically.

“Hello sir, my name is Robert Devlin. I’m an investigative reporter for the Plain Dealer,” said the voice on the other end. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

Robin frowned. “What kind of questions?” he asked.

Cut To:

Int.

Plain Dealer Newsroom – Same Time

Devlin sat at his desk in a nondescript cubicle, the newsroom bustling with activity behind him. The clicking of computer keyboards made a constant background chatter. He took a sip of his coffee before continuing.

“Well, sir, I’m writing a story on your organization, and I thought I would give you the chance to comment before the story was printed. I was wondering if you could fill in a few blanks for me. Who am I talking to, by the way?”

“This is Robin Wood,” he heard through the phone, “but I’m not sure I can fill in any blanks. We’re just a boarding school.”

“Ah, yes, well, Mr. Wood,” Devlin went on, “I’m sure you’ve heard about that incident in Vancouver last week. Six girls from one of your schools died under suspicious circumstances.”

“Yes,” Robin replied. “It was extremely tragic.”

“Well, you see, I couldn’t help noticing that several of the survivors of that unfortunate event were residents of the Cleveland area, so I did some research,” Devlin said. He flipped his pad open with one hand, cradled a pen in the other and held the receiver to his ear with his shoulder. “It seems that one Mr. Alexander Harris was treated for injuries and then traveled back to Cleveland by private helicopter, against the wishes of his doctors. Also treated for minor injuries was one Miss Violet Joston, who I personally observed two nights ago with three other young women engaging in a rather unusual altercation with several deformed men. I don’t want to bore you with the details, Mr. Wood, but I was somewhat perplexed by what I saw.”

“Were you?” Robin commented stonily.

“Yes, so I did some more research, and I discovered that both Mr. Harris and Miss Joston are residents at your school. This piqued my curiosity, and I looked through some of the city records,” Devlin continued. “Did you know a Miss Marsha Parsons, age 14? She died last year, also while a resident at your school.”

“Yes, I knew her,” Robin admitted.

“Do the names Rona Samuels and Rachel Jones mean anything to you, Mr. Wood? They also died in the last few years, while living at your complex. And then there’s this girl the other week, Emily something…” Devil flipped through the wrinkled pages of his notepad, searching for the name.

“What exactly are you getting at, Mr. Devlin?” Robin’s tone was suspicious.

“Mr. Wood, let’s cut the crap,” Devlin said, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve got a dormitory full of supernaturally powerful girls there. You train them in handling medieval weapons and send them out to combat some type of…vampire-like dust creatures on a nightly basis. You said yourself you’re part of ‘The Council of Watchers.’ That doesn’t sound like the name of school to me. There’s a lot more going on here than people are aware of, and my job is to make them aware of it. So, Mr. Wood, I was wondering if you could tell me…what exactly is going on? We’re going to print the story either way.”

Cut To:

Int.

Watchers Council – Lobby – Same Time

Robin sat in silence, his face not betraying what he was thinking. After a moment, he spoke again. “Mr. Devlin, will you call us back in one hour?”

“Certainly, sir,” Devlin replied through the phone. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

“You’re welcome,” Robin said half-heartedly and hung up the phone. He blew out a long breath. “We’ve got trouble.”

Cut To:

Int.

Watchers Council – Rowena’s Apartment – Moments Later

Rowena had kicked off all her covers and was curled up in the middle of her bed, alone, when the phone rang.

“Don’t worry, Will,” Rowena said groggily as she rolled over. “I’ll take care of this one.” Then she blearily wiped her eyes, looked around for a second and sighed. Then she grabbed the phone from the table next to the bed. “Hello?” She listened for a moment, then sat up straight in bed, suddenly fully awake. “Wait, he said what? Robin, we need to all get together and decide what to do here.” She rubbed the corner of one eye with the back of her eye and sighed again. “Call everybody, tell them to meet me in the conference room in twenty minutes.”

She hung up the phone and glanced around the room, listening to the silence.

Cut To:

Int.

Outside Willow’s Apartment – Minutes Later

Rowena rapped twice on Willow’s front door and waited.

“I’m coming,” she heard Willow’s voice say, followed by a loud bang and a muffled “Ow!” A hint of a smile crossed Rowena’s lips, but only briefly. In a moment, Willow opened her door, rubbing her lower leg with one hand while standing on the other. The witch’s pained expression worsened when she saw who it was at her door.

“What is it?” Willow asked, her voice unfriendly. “It can’t be to call an inquiry and get me suspended again, because, hey, you already crossed that off your to-do list.”

“Willow,” Rowena sighed, “I didn’t suspend you. I recused myself, remember? It was the panel’s decision.”

“Hey, semantics.” Willow’s eyes didn’t soften, though she winced when she put her bumped leg down. “What can I do for you?”

“Look, I did what I had to, okay? Remember the last time I kept information back to protect you?” Rowena pleaded. “Mass hysteria. Dogs and cats living together.”

“And I’m sure it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Now, what can I do for you?” Willow repeated, unwavering. Rowena tried to keep the hurt look off her face, but failed miserably.

“I didn’t come down here to justify myself to you,” the watcher said. “I came to tell you that there’s an emergency meeting in the conference room in ten minutes.”

“Why tell me?” Willow challenged. “I’m suspended, remember?”

“That may be,” Rowena replied, “but you’re still the head of the Coven. And I think we might need our big guns for this one.”

Cut To:

Int.

Watchers Council – Conference Room – Minutes Later

“So, this guy…” Faith began.

“Devlin,” Robin supplied.

“Right, Devlin, so he knows…everything?”

The senior slayer seemed to still be trying to wrap her mind around the concept. She looked at Robin across a table surrounded by the sleepy-looking brass of the Watchers Council. Rowena and Willow sat at opposite ends, flanked by Robin and Dawn, respectively, while Faith had brought Kennedy as her backup. Andrew leaned between Willow and Dawn to deliver another pitcher of water to replace the empty one sitting on the table.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Robin replied. “He called me early this morning.”

“I wondered where –” A look from Robin told Faith to drop the subject. She opened her mouth defiantly to continue, but then thought better of it and closed it again.

“Whoa, okay,” Willow said, sounding a little flustered. “Are we talking about he knows everything everything or just, y’know, kinda vague outlines, French impressionist version of everything, because –”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rowena interrupted, drawing a hurt look from Willow. Rowena noticed, but after a moment, she continued. “If he knows the basics, vampires, slayers, Council governs slayers and fights vampires, then he’ll figure out everything else. This day was bound to come at some point. Now what we have to decide is how to deal with it.”

“He’s going to write his story,” Dawn said quietly, “and put it in the Plain Dealer, and then…everyone will know.” Everyone sat in silence for a long beat. Then she added, “That will be weird.”

“Weird?” Kennedy said, upset. “Really, really bad is more like it! Have you seen any TV lately? There would be a media circus that would make the Michael Jackson trial look like a parking ticket. And once they start looking…let’s just say that the Council may have even more dirty laundry than your average massively-powerful international organization.”

“She’s right,” Rowena said. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.”

“Or could be sent to jail for,” Faith added.

“Now hold on,” Willow said. “If you think about it, will the average Joe on the street think this story is real, or will they think it belongs in the World Globe right next to ‘Grandma gives birth to Big Foot’s love child’?” How many people will really believe it?”

“Normally I’d agree, but he’s done his homework. He knew about Marsha, and Rona, and the girls in Vancouver,” Robin said. Willow took a hurried sip from her glass of water. “And about Rachel. I think he’s spoken to Rachel’s father.” Faith sank deeper into her chair and lowered her eyes.

“We’re gonna be famous!” a voice blurted out.

Everyone turned and looked at Andrew, who was standing over a partially dismantled coffee machine in the corner and looking excited.

“It’s like…superheroes are real, y’know?” he continued. “And people need heroes. I know some of my friends would freak out so bad…”

“So I’m gonna have my own nerds,” Kennedy said, her voice flat. “Great.”

“And don’t forget about shippers!” Andrew added.

“As fascinating as that is, I think we’ve established the seriousness of the problem,” Rowena said.

Faith rolled her eyes. “Well, thank you, Captain Obv –”

“And I think I may have a solution,” the blonde watcher continued, ignoring Faith and pulling a thick volume out of her briefcase that she placed on the table. “There is a spell, the ‘Tabula Rasa,’ that can erase specific memories from a certain subject. It involves an Augustine Crystal, a small amount of Lethe’s Bramble, and a simple incantation. I propose that we perform this spell on Mr. Devlin.”

“So we zap Mr. I-Know-Everything, and he forgets that he knows everything?” Kennedy asked.

“Exactly,” replied Rowena.

“Cool,” Kennedy said, relaxing back into her chair. “I say we do it. Problem solved.”

Dawn looked nervous and turned to Willow. “Wait, isn’t that –?” she began.

“Yeah, it is,” Willow finished. She turned to the rest of the table and firmly announced, “We’re not doing the spell.”

“What?” Faith asked incredulously, sitting up. “Why not?”

“Forgetting spells…are a bad idea,” the witch said. “They usually have unintended consequences…and it goes against the Wiccan rede to mess with someone’s mind like that against their will.”

“So what we’ve really got here is a separation of church and state issue,” Faith said. Willow started to reply, but found herself cut off.

“Guys, forgetting is a bad idea,” Andrew said, his voice shrill. “Hasn’t anyone here seen the Charlie Kaufman Oscar-nominated classic Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?”

“Hey Andy,” Kennedy said loudly, “You got that coffee machine fixed yet?” Andrew looked sheepish and turned back to his work.

“Willow, I know you may have reservations about this, but I think it’s the best way,” Rowena said calmly. “It’s a relatively simple spell with the right materials. If you want Jeff or one of your other students to do it, I understand –”

“No,” Willow cut her off. “The Coven will not do the spell, ever, while I’m in charge.” There was a tense moment, as Willow set her jaw into her famous resolve face and most of the rest of the room stared at her.

“Well, okay,” Robin said, breaking the tension somewhat, “but that puts us back to square one. Does anybody have any other ideas?”

“We let him in,” Faith said simply.

Now it was Rowena’s turn to be incredulous. “What?”

“Maybe if we told him everything, gave him interviews, let him follow us on patrol, whatever he wants, then he’d see our side of things,” Faith explained. “Maybe he’d realize why we think it’s so important that this not go public and decide not to publish his story.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Dawn agreed.

“No.” It was Rowena’s turn to show her own resolve face. “It’s much too risky. If he wants to go ahead with the story anyway, do we just let him? I can’t emphasize enough how important it is that the general public not be aware of our activities.”

“So what do we do?” Dawn asked.

“We compromise,” Kennedy said, her eyes widening at the realization that she might actually have an idea. “We meet Devlin, give him a tour of the building if he wants…show him that we have nothing to hide.”

Robin’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “But…we do have something to hide. A lot of things, actually.”

“And while Devlin’s here, we hide them,” Kennedy explained. “Just like we have lots of practice doing. We convince him he’s barking up the wrong tree, he calls off the story. Or we buy him off with our rainy day fund. Whatever. We can have Bonnie do it. She’s good at the whole lies-and-deceit concept, and she has even less to be proud of than we do.” A weird frown crossed Kennedy’s face for a moment as she considered her last statement, but then her smile returned.

“Fine, let’s do that,” Rowena said. “I guess if it doesn’t work we’ll just have another one of these meetings. Watchers branch votes that we follow Kennedy’s plan.”

“The Coven votes yes,” Willow said.

“You wanna do it, Slick?” Faith asked Kennedy, who was still smiling.

“Slayer branch votes yes.”

“All right, it’s settled then,” Rowena said. “Meeting adjourned.”

“I had an idea!” Kennedy beamed, as everyone slowly filed from the room.

Cut To:

Int.

Watchers Council – Outside Xander’s Workshop – Morning

Vi walked purposefully down the hall, walking right by the workshop without stopping.

“Hey, wait up!” Vi stopped and turned to see that Xander had appeared in the hall outside the door to his workshop. He was sitting in a wheelchair, one arm and one leg encased in plaster casts. Most of the Council members seemed to have signed one cast or the other.

“What is it?” Vi asked, her voice a little more testy than usual. “I have to go get the girls started with warm-ups.”

Xander began awkwardly pushing himself down the hall in Vi’s general direction. She waited patiently, but didn’t move to help.

“Are you… I mean, are you okay?” Xander ventured, after he had gotten nearer to her and stopped.  “I mean… after everything…in Vancouver.”

“I’m fine,” she said flatly, then turned to leave. Xander caught his girlfriend’s arm with his good hand.

“Look, Xander, I’ve got a job to do,” Vi answered. “I don’t have time to cry over spilt milk… or spilt blood, or whatever. I’m fine, really.”

“Vi, you know you can talk to me about anything,” Xander said. “That’s what makes this… thing that we have work.”

Vi managed a wisp of a smile. “I know,” she said, before she turned and walked away.

Xander sat and watched her go, looking particularly helpless.

Cut To:

Ext.

Watchers Council – Later that Day

“Vancouver Investigation, Day Five,” was scrawled across the top of Devlin’s pad. Beneath that, he had scribbled, “Perhaps change to, ‘Watchers Council Investigation?’ Case has grown.”

He approached the door to the school, but it opened before he had the chance to ring the bell. Bonnie smiled pleasantly at him.

“Mr. Devlin, it’s a pleasure to meet you. This way please.”

She led the way into the building, and Devlin noted, “Have perhaps misjudged Council. PR spokeswoman seems more suburban real estate agent than evil conspirator.”

Cut To:

Int.

Watchers Council – Lobby – Moments Later

“I want to thank you for your time, Ms. Terea,” Devlin said politely.

“Call me Bonnie,” she replied.

Devlin hesitated for a moment. “Ms. Ter –, er, Bonnie…let’s not kid ourselves. Unless you’ve decided to come clean, we’re not likely to finish this tour on a first-name basis.”

“That’s a pity, Mr. Devlin, because there simply isn’t anything to come clean about. I’m afraid you’ve put two and two together and come up with six. We’re a school, nothing more. I’ll admit that our curriculum and methods are a bit unorthodox, but our results speak for themselves.”

“Your methods have resulted in the deaths of a number of young women…most recently in Vancouver, but several in this very building, at least one in this very room.” He pointed to the stairs leading to the next floor at the far end of the lobby. “Is that where Rachel Jones fell?”

Bonnie’s smile faded. “That was a tragic accident, Mr. Devlin. I sincerely hope that you aren’t planning to try and parlay a few tragedies into some sensationalistic story. Rachel’s memory deserves better treatment than that.”

“I agree. It deserves the truth, and that’s what I intend to tell. I’d like your help in telling that truth, but it will be told.”

“Rachel fell, Mr. Devlin. That is the truth. Her death was investigated and ruled an accident. What makes you think that it was anything more?”

“I spoke to Rachel’s father. He doesn’t believe that her death was an accident.”

“Mr. Jones is a grieving father. Anything he told you should be considered in that light. I thought you, as a journalist, would consider that.” She glanced at the well-worn pad in Devlin’s hands, as if attempting to decipher the scribbled symbols. “If I may ask, what did Mr. Jones say?”

“He said that his daughter was a hero, that she died trying to save another student.”

Bonnie paused before continuing. “I…that is… I’m not quite sure how to respond, Mr. Devlin, and I’m rarely at a loss for words.” For the first time, a hint of emotion broke through her façade of unflappability. “I’m put in the position of disputing a father’s heartfelt belief that his child died a heroic death, and I’m not going to do that. What I will point out is that Rachel’s death was investigated by the proper authorities and ruled an accident. The coroner had no emotional involvement in the case, and therefore would have no reason to misjudge the situation.”

“About that…” Devlin practically pounced on the mention of the coroner’s investigation. He pulled a photocopied sheet from his pad and held it up for Bonnie’s inspection. Rachel Jones looked up at her with sightless eyes, and the woman paled. She did not, however, look away.

“Mr. Devlin, is this really necessary?” she asked.

“I’m afraid so. You see, I’m no coroner myself, but I do have contacts in the coroner’s office, and throughout my career, I’ve seen more than my share of corpses. Some died from accidents, many from foul play. Do you see the bruises there? At the base of her neck? Those bruises were caused by fingers, Bonnie. I’ve seen similar bruises before.”

The woman shook her head. “That’s quite impossible. Look at the size. If those are finger marks, the hand would be inhumanly large.”

Devlin looked at her with a certain amount of grim satisfaction. “You make my point for me, Bonnie.”

Cut To:

Int.

Watchers Council – Hallway – Same Time

Andrew and Jeff watched from the hallway. They were pretending non-interest, but Andrew’s attention was continually drawn to the reporter. He seemed almost in awe of the man.

“Karl Kolchak,” Andrew whispered.

“Huh?” Jeff questioned. “I thought Mr. Wood said his name was Devlin?”

“Devlin may be the name he goes by, but in his heart, he is Karl Kolchak: archetypical dogged reporter, investigating the supernatural despite the skepticism of his peers and the interference of the authorities.” He looked down his nose at Jeff. “You are far too young to remember, Padawan. The Night Stalker fought his lonely battle before…”

“Andrew –” Jeff interrupted, to no effect.

“…you were even born. He is well known to be…”

“Andrew!” Jeff tried to get Andrew’s attention, but once again, his efforts were in vain.

“…the spiritual father of Fox Mulder, intrepid and determined FBI agent who, week after week, delved into the paranormal despite the doubts of his colleagues. Interestingly enough, Mulder was briefly thought to be the biological son of the sinisterly mysterious Cigarette Smoking –”

“Andrew, Jeffrey, this is Mr. Devlin of the Plain Dealer,” Bonnie interrupted, successfully. “I’m giving Mr. Devlin a tour of the school. He seems to be under the impression that there is more going on here than meets the eye. I’m going to show him that we are perfectly normal.” She pinned Andrew in place with a glare, and he gulped nervously.

“Well, umm….Would you like to, umm, tour the kitchen?” Andrew asked. “It’s perfectly normal. ” As he turned to lead the way, he added under his breath, “Usually.”

Fade To:

Int.

Watchers Council – Robin’s Office – Afternoon

Robin sat behind his desk, his hands folded. Devlin sat – slouched, actually – in an overstuffed chair across from Robin, Bonnie in a similar chair next to him. Devlin flipped a page on his notepad and scribbled furiously. After a few seconds, he looked up and asked, “When you first took my phone call, Mr. Wood, you identified yourself as the Council of Watchers. Would you mind elaborating? What exactly is the Council of Watchers, and why is this organization funding schools around the world?”

“You seem to know, or think you know, a lot about us. Why don’t you tell us what the Council of Watchers is, and I’ll let you know how wrong you are,” Robin said dryly.

“From what I’ve been able to find out, it’s a secret society. Said by some to be older than the Masons and more secretive than the Skull and Bones. Certain conspiracy theorists have linked the Watchers to the Knights of Byzantium, while others swear it’s a front for the Illuminati.”

Bonnie snorted. “I wouldn’t look to the tinfoil-hat brigade for facts. That is, if it is just the facts you’re after. It’s a rare thing these days to find a journalist who is more interested in facts than in publicity.”

Robin shifted in his chair, and his artificial leg bumped awkwardly against the desk. Frowning, he picked up the conversation. “The Watchers Council is a fraternal organization, but we hardly qualify as a secret society, and we are more interested in charitable works than in world domination, Mr. Devlin. One of the charitable endeavors we have recently undertaken is the worldwide funding and operation of schools for gifted young women. The hard fact of the matter is that your misguided attempt to uncover a non-existent ‘truth’ stands to endanger that endeavor. You are putting these young women’s futures at risk.”

“Or removing them from risk!” Devlin shot back. “Young women have died, Mr. Wood! Too many to ignore! Six in Canada, most recently, but they’re not the only ones. Less than a year ago, a number of your students, both here and abroad, fell ill under mysterious circumstances. Several remain in a persistent vegetative state, but one, Marsha Parsons, died after being removed from life-support. Yet there doesn’t appear to have been any substantial investigation conducted by the CDC. No quarantine was enacted, and there was no media coverage! Do you realize how unusual that is? When I contacted the young woman’s parents, all they had to say was that the matter had been settled out of court and that they were unable to discuss the settlement. What happened to those young women?”

Robin stood, somewhat awkwardly, and asked, “Would you excuse me for a moment?” Without waiting for permission, he left the room.

After he had left, Bonnie said, “I’m afraid that Miss Parsons’ death is something that I’m not permitted to discuss for legal reasons. I do assure you that the matter was thoroughly investigated, and it was determined that the illness was not contagious, and the authorities, who most certainly were involved, wished to keep the matter low-key to avoid public panic. While it looks suspicious, the truth is that there was no mysterious plague, and no foul play was involved.”

Devlin shook his head in disbelief. He stood and began to pace. “Bonnie, it doesn’t just look suspicious. It is suspicious!” He gestured with his pad. “This is the most suspicious case I’ve ever stumbled across.” He shook his head again and sat once more, and then let out a breath and appeared almost to deflate. “The strangest thing is, I don’t get the feeling that you guys are up to no good. I saw what happened the other night. I saw those-those things that the young women from your school were fighting. I know that I don’t have all the facts, and I don’t want to go to press without knowing the truth, but you’re forcing my hand. This is too important a story to just –”

He was cut off by Robin’s re-entry to the room. Robin cleared his throat, walked over to Devlin, and handed him a check.

“What’s this?” Devlin asked. As he scanned the check, his eyes widened, and he dropped his notepad.

“That, Mr. Devlin, is a check for one million dollars. I’ve been authorized to release the money to you contingent on your agreement to drop your investigation and agree to make no future claims about the Council of Watchers or any of our subsidiary organizations. This is a great deal of money. You are free to take early retirement and lead a life of leisure, or use it to fund investigations into any number of causes. You can do a great deal of good with this money, while this particular line of investigation can lead only to endangering our students, the public at large and quite possibly yourself.”

At this, they locked eyes. “Is that a threat, Mr. Wood?”

“No, just a fact, Mr. Devlin.”

Devlin stared at the check in his hand. “This…A reporter doesn’t make a lot of money. Not my type of reporter, anyway. I’ve always thought that I’d like to get away for a while and write a novel, but I never seem to find the time. With this kind of money…”

Bonnie smiled with an uncharacteristic gentleness. “I’m sure that you would make a wonderful novelist, Robert. Who knows, years from now, students may be studying your books in English classes nationwide.”

Devlin snorted. “And they’d probably be just as bored as I was when I had to write a book report on The Great Gatsby. It’s a nice daydream, Bonnie.” He smiled sadly. “But that’s all it is. I’m not dropping this investigation. I can’t drop this investigation – it’s too important. And while both your bribes and your threats are impressive, Mr. Wood, I’m not about to drop this until the truth is out there for people to see for themselves.”

Devlin picked up his notepad from the floor, stood, nodded his thanks and began to leave the room. As he reached the doorway, he turned around. “If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Wood, what happened to your leg?”

After a moment, Robin replied dryly, “It was trapped after a giant flying demon crashed on top of me and then my girlfriend had to chop it off so that we could escape the advancing demon army.”

A skeptical “huh” was Devlin’s only response at first. Then he added, “If you didn’t want to answer the question, you could have just said so. I’m only looking for the truth here.” Devlin turned and left the room.

Bonnie turned to Robin and arched one eyebrow. “He’s not ready for the truth,” she said.

“Neither is the rest of the world,” Robin added.

Black Out

 

End of Act One