Virtual Third Season: Episode #3

[fenris]

Here's my latest effort. Hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think.

Be advised that there's a scene in this episode that could be considered adult in nature. It's not particularly graphic or explicit, and I don't believe it contains anything that could shock a seasoned Hex viewer - especially when you consider the antics that Jez and Roxy got up to - but I thought I'd just warn you.
Apologises in advance if anyone is offended, as that was not my intention. I am merely exploring the twisted relationship between two main characters, in a manner which I believe is entirely in keeping with what was established in the second series.


Episode #3: Life During Wartime.

Previously on Hex: clips from the first episode – Malachi introduced on the chat show as the founder of the New Church; Ella hitting Alex in the lift; Malachi asking Alex “What happened to you?”, her reply “Ella Dee” and Malachi’s reaction; Jo saying “There’s trouble brewing in the Balkans. Clips from the second episode – Midge reading a newspaper with the headline ‘War imminent in Balkans?’ Thelma saying “It’s Malachi/his presense influences everything. He’s affecting events, making the human race become/ more prone to violence.” Alex coughing violently after inhaling St John’s Wort. Jo telling the person she’s visiting at the asylum: “I have a meeting with our associate tomorrow. I would say that things are getting very interesting indeed.”

A small, rundown seaside town, off-season. Jo walks along the seafront. The sky is overcast, the grey sea crashes angrily against the seawall. It’s early in the morning and there’s nobody else in sight. Jo reaches a rusty, decaying pier, the entrance to which is fenced off. Beyond the barrier, derelict and empty amusement arcades and candy floss stands sit abandoned. A sign on the fence reads ‘Warning. No entry. Unsafe structure. Scheduled for demolition.’ Opposite the pier is a row of small and crowded novelty & gift shops, all closed now that summer’s over, shutters down and paint faded and peeling. Nested amongst the shops is a seedy-looking café with dusty windows. Jo ventures inside. A bored looking teenage girl, wearing a cheap plastic apron with a flowery motif, is leaning with her elbows on the counter at the back of the café, leafing through a magazine. The only other person inside the café is a female customer in a long, dark crimson leather overcoat, sitting at one of the tables with her back to the door.
“One tea, please.” Says Jo to the girl, who reluctantly shifts into life.
Jo sits down at the same table as the customer, directly opposite her. The woman has long sleek jet black hair, all the way down to her waist, and bright, vivid green eyes (Note: ideal casting for this role would be Eileen Daly).
“Jo.” Says the woman in greeting.
“Lilith.” Replies Jo, momentarily lowering her head and closing her eyes in deference.
They wait until the girl brings Jo her tea and then retreats back behind the counter. Lilith has an identical cup in front of her. Neither woman touches them.
“So. How goes the search?” Asks Lilith.
“As expected. We’re locating pages at the rate predicted. Currently, there’s no reason to expect we won’t continue on schedule.” Reports Jo.
“And the search for the other item?” Enquires Lilith.
“It’s proving elusive. We’ve recently found a fourth generation copy, which indicates we’re getting closer to the source.”
Lilith gazes into her tea, considering what Jo has told her, then nods, satisfied.
“How are the talks proceeding?” Asks Jo.
“Well.” States Lilith. “An agreement has almost been reached. There are just a few minor terms to sort out, a few side issues. Nothing of real importance. In fact, everything is so close to being finalised, that - as a sign of good faith – one of my people has been assigned to you.”
“I’m honoured.” Says Jo. She pauses, clearly choosing her words carefully: “Though I’m not too sure I’m actually in need of much assistance. Everything so far has gone quite smoothly.”
Lilith reaches across the table and puts a sisterly hand on Jo’s. “It’s just to help oil the wheels. No reflection on how you’re handling things. Hell is pleased. But there’s still time for something unexpected to occur. I understand that the Annointed One has re-emerged?”
Jo nods: “Ella Dee. I’m hoping to use her interference to our advantage. However, there’s always the chance that a wild card such as her could prove… problematic.”
“Then it’s agreed.” Says Lilith. “You can expect my brethren to arrive at noon, the day after tomorrow.”
Lilith and Jo both rise and leave the café. The weather is unchanged, but the ocean has calmed down considerably. Waves still swell against the seawall. Apart from the two women, the sea front is empty. Lilith gazes thoughtfully at the condemned pier.
“I’ve heard that the laws and regulations of this land mean it can take months before deciding on the best way to tear down such a structure.” Lilith says, conversationally. “I’ve always believed in taking a direct approach…”
She tilts her head back slightly and issues forth a strange, high-pitched call that no human vocal cords could ever produce. It wavers and resonates at several different pitches and tones simultaneously. Out at sea, ten huge tentacles suddenly erupt out of the water, either side of the pier. Moving incredibly swiftly, the tentacles smash through the empty buildings and wooden base of the pier, wrap themselves around the structure’s metal legs and cross-girders, then flex and pull the pier apart with such force that it practically explodes. The tentacles whip back between the waves. All that remains where the pier stood is a cloud of dust. Debris that was thrown aloft – planks of wood, pieces of metal – is raining down, splashing into the surf. An echoing, unearthly cry can be heard wailing out from under the sea.
“There, there.” Murmurs Lilith in reply. “Mother is pleased.”
“Impressive.” Says Jo with a wry smile, surveying the destruction.
“It’s good to keep him occupied.” Explains Lilith with a slight shrug. “You know how children are.”
Opening titles.

We see the sun rise, indicating that a day has passed since the pre-title sequence, followed by an exterior shot of the New Church’s London headquarters, then we cut inside to the bedroom of Jo’s quarters. It’s a sizable room, not as large as Malachi’s bedroom, filled with heavy oak furniture, with the wood so darkened that it’s practically black. The centrepiece of the room is a huge four-poster bed, the banisters boasting beautiful carvings depicting demons forcing themselves upon naked maidens. Five outfits are laid out on the bed, all dark and somber colours: three are black, one dark purple, the other is dark green. Three large wardrobes line up against one wall, while against the opposite wall is a chest of drawers, and a grand dressing table with an oval antique mirror, accompanied by an equally valuable chair with red velvet seat and backing. There’s also a full length mirror on a blackened oak frame and stand, which is pulled out into the room. Next to the mirror, facing the foot of the bed, is the only modern item of furniture in the room: a vast red leather sofa. Jo is standing in front of the full length mirror, wearing only a sleek, black silk camisole and matching panties. She’s holding a jade earring up to one ear, and a ruby earring to the other, trying to decide which is best suits her. Behind her, Malachi wanders in, complete with his usual cocky smile. He’s wearing black leather trousers and a t-shirt that resembles an explosion in a paint factory. Jo sees him in the mirror, but doesn’t turn round.
“You seem remarkably relaxed, Malachi, considering that Ella’s back on the scene.” She comments.
“I’m not worried about her.” He shrugs.
“Really? That’s not how it seemed when Alex and I informed you of her return a few days ago.” Counters Jo.
(We see a brief flashback of Malachi sitting bolt upright in bed upon hearing Ella’s name in Episode #1.)
“That was just because it was a surprise.” He declares. “ I mean, think about it – Ella couldn’t kill me five years ago when I had just the pupils of Medenham worshipping me. Now I’ve got a couple of dozen million followers spread across nineteen countries, and counting. I’m practically invulnerable. You know,” he says conversationally, “last week I deliberately tried to cut myself while shaving, just to test myself.” He pauses for effect. “The blade couldn’t penetrate my skin. On the downside, it means I can’t get any more tattoos.”
Jo ignores him, apparently disinterested. Malachi casts a blatantly admiring eye over her semi-clad body. He puts a nostalgic tone into his voice;
“This brings back memories. You, me, in your bedroom. We were always good together.” He says. “ Sometimes I wonder…when you decreed that I had to get married in the name of good P.R, why did you decide to make me get hitched to Alex and not you?”
“It was best for you to get married to someone your own age.” Says Jo simply, still with her back to him.
Malachi laughs: “My own age? I’m barely six years old!”
A pause. He moves closer to her.
“Do you know you’re my first memory? You, looking after me when I was small. I don’t remember my real mother at all.” He remarks.
“Cassie. Nice girl.” Says Jo. She gives Malachi a sideways glance. “You wouldn’t have liked her. Not your type.”
“So,” Malachi continues, unphased “I guess this means you’re the closest thing I’ve got to a parent, 'specially since Dad left. Perhaps that’s why we were so good together. There was always just a hint that we were doing something really…”
Jo turns and faces him. They’re standing just a couple of feet apart.
“Wicked? Sinful? Taboo? Or just plain wrong?” She suggests.
“All of the above.” He smiles.
Jo turns back to the mirror and continues comparing earrings.
“Since we’re reminiscing, tell me…how long has it been since we shared any quality time together?” He interjects.
“If you’re feeling amorous, Malachi” signs Jo, “run off and find one of your quartet of willing sluts. Or better yet, perhaps you should consider actually sleeping with your wife for a change.”
“She’s still amongst the walking wounded at the moment, you know that.” Chides Malachi. “Besides, Alex and the others, they’re just little girls. And that’s fine, most of the time. But what a man like me really needs is a mature, experienced woman. Like you.”
He steps next to her, up close. His hand is suddenly underneath her camisole, moving across her stomach then upwards, as he leans in and starts to nuzzle her neck. His other hand slips down over the small of her back, fingers caressing where her smooth skin meets the sheer silk of her panties.
“No-one else has come close, Jo.” He whispers into her hair. “Not Ella. Not even Perie.”
Jo closes her eyes, leans her head back, and sighs, enjoying the sensation. The earrings drop from her fingers.
“I suppose, deep down, I’ll always be a mother’s boy.” Breathes Malachi.
Jo suddenly spins round and passionately kisses him. He responds, the two of them frantically grabbing and clutching each other. Jo breaks away from the kiss, breathing hard. Wordlessly, she places her left hand on the side of Malachi’s face, her right hand on his chest, then steers him round so his back is to the sofa, all the time staring deep into his eyes.
“You’re right,” She murmurs softly “about me being a mother to you. I’ve always thought of you as my child. My son.”
She leans in and gently, tenderly, kisses him on the lips. Then she pushes him back onto the sofa. As he sits there, she advances towards him.
“So yes, this is wicked. And sinful. And taboo. And so very, very wrong.” She purrs, climbing onto the sofa, straddling him, then grabbing hold of his t-shirt and pulling it off over his head. She runs her hands over his chest.
“And now it’s time for my boy…my beautiful boy…to show me how much of a man he really is.” She declares, then leans forward and bites his chest. Hard.
Malachi gasps loudly, more in pain than pleasure. Jo raises her head. She’s drawn blood, and makes a show of running her tongue over her lips, before kissing Malachi passionately.
As the two of them continue, the camera pans away from the sofa, across the bedroom and towards the door. There, observing Jo and Malachi’s violent foreplay, stands Alex. She’s wearing black leggings and a white sleeveless top, and has an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. The tube from the mask leads to a metal oxygen cylinder that’s fitted snugly into a wheeled stand that Alex is pulling around by a handle. Alex silently glares at Jo and Malachi, then turns and walks away, pulling the cylinder behind her.

Cut to a non-descript street. Wearing her cheerleader’s uniform, Thelma sits on the back of a milk float as it trundles along. She hops off as it passes the entrance to a hospital. As she enters the building, the theme tune to ‘The Magic Roundabout’ can suddenly be heard. Thelma pulls a mobile phone out of a holder on her belt and examines it. The screen reads ‘Caller unidentified.’ As she puts the phone to her face and says “Hello?” we see Thelma walk past a arrowed sign that reads ‘Morgue.’

At Ella’s flat, the floor of the living room is littered with large cardboard boxes as Leon unpacks a load of new computer and phone/satellite surveillance equipment. Having just let herself in, Midge surveys the scene. The door to Ella and Leon’s room is slightly ajar. Midge peeks through and sees Ella sitting on the mattress, eyes closed, meditating. Midge quietly closes the door, then asks Leon where all the stuff filling the rest of the flat came from. He explains that it’s “a gift from our sponsors.”
“We have sponsors?” Says Midge, incredulously.
As she helps him get all the equipment unpacked, Leon explains that everytime Malachi gains a new recruit, he also gains enemies: most of his followers give money they can ill-afford to the New Church. Others go further, breaking off contract from family, friends, even walking out on their marriages and children to join the New Church’s communes. Concerned about the change that’s come over their loved ones, people across the world are discovering that the authorities are unwilling to help. Malachi’s followers now number in the dozens of millions over several countries, and will do whatever he says – including voting for whoever he tells them. Therefore, with such a considerable section of the electorate at Malachi’s command, governments are unwilling to take action to curb the New Church, and have instructed their police forces and intelligence services accordingly. Instead, in the various countries where the new Church has established itself, politicians of all sides are courting Malachi’s favour, in the hope of gaining his endorsement.
As Leon is talking, Thelma wanders in, wearing medical scrubs. Leon gives her a quizzical look.
“A nurse in Casualty keeled over last night with a heart attack.” Says Thelma by way of explanation, tugging at the upper garment. “Kind of ironic, really.” She takes some the boxes that have been emptied and starts flattening them.
Leon tells Midge that since he set up his website a year earlier and became the public face and voice of those opposed to the New Church, many concerned individuals whose loved ones have joined the New Church have been covertly sending him information, often at great professional or even personal risk to themselves. Thus, Leon explains that he has established a network of contacts across the spectrum of society, including the police, many government departments, the medical profession, academia, the banking and legal systems, and even the intelligence services. Alternatively, some individuals choose to fund Leon’s website or supply equipment, hence today’s delivery. And over the last several months, other ordinary people increasingly concerned about the influence of the New Church have started to create their own protest groups, and many are liasing with Leon, sharing information.
All the equipment has been unpacked. Having flattened all the boxes, Thelma sits on the kitchen counter, popping a sheet of bubble wrap. Ella emerges from the other room, and smiles a hello to Thelma and Midge.
“Speaking of contacts” Thelma says “I’ve just been approached by someone inside the New Church, who’s got access to information at the highest level. They say they’re willing to act as an informant.”
Thelma tries to sound casual, but it’s clear she knows what she’s telling them is potentially verbal dynamite.
“The highest level would mean Malachi’s inner circle. You mean one of his incubus or succubus claim they’re willing to betray him?” Ella asks.
“The person in question wants to remain anonymous, and I promised I wouldn’t reveal their identity.” Replies Thelma. “They say they’re only willing to talk to me, no-one else.”
“It’s got to be a trick, surely?” Murmurs Leon. “An attempt to pass false information, or lure us into a trap.”
“I believe they’re on the level. I can’t tell you why, but I have my reasons.” Explains Thelma.
“You’re sure about this, Thelma? There will be risks involved. We don’t want you compromised.” Cautions Ella.
Thelma nods. “I’m sure.” She says. “Besides, I’m dead. There’s not much more they can do to me.”
“Okay.” Says Leon. “But we’re going to be very cautious about any information received from your source.”
Thelma nods, managing a grin. “Understood.”
Midge looks around at all the unpacked equipment.
“Have we actually got enough sockets for all this stuff?” She asks

Cut to Jo’s apartment at the New Church’s London headquarters. Jo is standing in front of the full length mirror, fully dressed in an all-black outfit with a short black skirt, putting her jade earrings in. Behind her, Malachi stirs awake. He’s sprawled naked on the sofa, his modesty covered by the black silk camisole that Jo was wearing earlier, which lies discarded over his lower body. He looks exhausted.
“It never ceases to amaze me,” Malachi mumbles sleepily, “that every time we’re together, you always manage to find some new boundary to break.” He yawns. “You’re the only person I know who’s even kinkier than I am.” He spots the camisole, and also Jo’s panties on the floor. “You’ve changed your underwear?” He asks.
“No.” Says Jo, running her hands down over her waist and smoothing out the skirt, “I’m not wearing any.”
Malachi examines his chest, gingerly touching the bite mark that Jo made. It’s already starting to heal up.
“I’ve just realised,” he murmurs, puzzled, “I’m invulnerable, but you managed to break my skin. To draw blood.”
Jo turns, walks over to the sofa, and crouches down next to him.
“You’re invulnerable to anything that’s intended to cause you harm. But this,” She purrs as she runs her long fingernails over the rapidly fading bite mark, “was an act of love.”
She leans in close and gently kisses him, then stands up, suddenly all business again.
Jo proceeds to tell Malachi that she’s contacted the Foreign Office and told them that he’s unwell and unable to greet either of the diplomatic parties that have flown in for the negotiations, and that she’d also requested that the New Church’s role in bringing the two sides to the table was to be played down, even to the extent of not being mentioned in any press release or Ministerial quote. Jo tells him the Foreign Office didn’t say anything, but she’d gotten the expression they were somewhat surprised, considering how Malachi had previously insisted that the New Church’s role be emphasised to the public when the talks began. But the Foreign Office hadn’t questioned this sudden change, probably because now it would allow the Foreign Secretary to take all the credit.
“It’s a pity really, having to forgo the useful publicity. But you’re right. If Ella twigged that we were involved in organising the peace summit, she might work out what we’re up to, and try to interfere.” Mutters Malachi. “Incidently, where are our hired guns now?”
“Arriving as we speak.” Says Jo.

Cut to Heathrow airport. Footage of planes landing, people milling around. We see a powerfully built black man in stylish casual clothes making his way though Arrivals, carrying just hand luggage. Elsewhere in the airport, a tall stern-looking man in an expensive suit with a small suitcase walks through the main terminal.

Cut to Ella’s flat. All the equipment has been installed, is up and running, and is merrily humming away. The section of the room around the desk looks like an incredibly cramped version of the bridge of the Starship Enterpise. Several user manuals the size of phone books are lying open, and Midge is on the sofa with her head buried in one of them. Leon and Ella are sat at the desk. Thelma is nowhere to be seen.
Indicating one of the screens, Leon tells Ella that his contacts in the financial world keep a permanently watchful eye on any large amounts of money being moved by the New Church. One informant, who works at a bank in the Seychelles, has sent Leon information that substantial sums have recently moved through the bank accounts of several dummy corporations believed to be controled by the New Church. Although it can’t be confirmed that the funds originated from the New Church, the paper trail eventually ends with the money being deposited into the Swiss accounts of two professional mercenaries known to specialise in political assassination. Leon explains that other contacts have identified the two men as Kenneth Sanzel, a former sniping instructor with the French Foreign Legion, now wanted by Interpol; and Alan McElroy, an ex-marksman in the U.S. Marines, honourably discharged, who subsequently worked for several New York Mafia families before going freelance. Leon brings up photos of Sanzel and McElroy on screen – they’re the two men we saw arriving at Heathrow. Ella comments that two assassins means two targets. But who?

End of Part One.

[fenris]

Part Two.

Cut to an ordinary, non-descript street. A black limousine pulls up. McElroy emerges out of a doorway and gets into the back of the vehicle, which is empty except for a large briefcase. He glances towards the driver, a young blonde woman who doesn’t acknowledge him, just remains looking straight ahead. She see Malachi’s mark on her neck. McElroy opens the case. Inside a rifle sits disassembled, together with twenty rounds of ammunition. He shuts the case and exits the car.

Cut to a coffee shop on a nearby high street. It’s mid-morning and the place is starting to get busy. Thelma is sitting on a table in the middle of the room, gazing at the customers and looking glum, ritualing torturing herself again by mixing unnoticed amongst the living and witnessing everything she’s missing out on. Two girls sit at Thelma’s table and start chatting through her, talking excitedly about boyfriends. Thelma looks back & forth at the two girls, then sits up and sighs. She spots a televsion mounted on the wall behind the counter with the sound turned low. Something on the screen catches her attention. She hops off the table, walks across the coffee shop and clambers over the counter. Stretching up, she turns the sound up on the television, whereupon the staff and several customer jerk their heads round, wondering why the volume has suddenly increased tenfold.
The television is showing a news programme. Over footage of a group of suited diplomats all smiling and shaking hands, the news reader is saying “Seen here two weeks ago, when the date and venue of today’s peace summit was announced, are members of the negotiating team of one of the two feuding Balkan nations who currently sit on the verge of formally declaring war. The negotiators for both nations arrived in the UK late last night, and it is hoped that the peace talks starting today will improve relations between the two countries and help ease the simmering and occasionally violent unrest that threatens to engulf both nations and spill out into the neighbouring region.” Thelma stares intently at the screen. As diplomats and UN officials all bustle and pose for the TV cameras in the library footage, at the back of the group a figure discreetly slips away. We see this individual in pixeliated close up: it’s Jo. A coffee shop worker walks over and turns the sound down.

Cut to Thelma practically bursting out of the coffee shop, the door swinging wide. She walks quickly down the street, hurriedly dialing her mobile then putting it to her head. “Come on, come on, pick up. Be there.” She mutters as she walks briskly along.

Cut to the black limousine, stationary in an open-air car park. The back door opens and Sanzel gets out, carrying a briefcase identical to the one McElroy collected. He shut the car door and walks away as the vehicle moves off.

Cut to Leon and Ella discussing something in the latter’s flat, as Thelma barges in. “Malachi’s up to something.” She blurts out.

The next scene: we’re still in the flat, but several minutes have passed. Midge has the sofa, Leon’s sitting on the chair by the desk, Thelma’s occupying her usual perch on the kitchen counter, and Ella is slowly pacing the room, back and forth.
“So,” says Ella, “due to Malachi’s influence as he grows in power, there’s currently more armed conflict around the world than at anytime since the end of the Second World War. And it’s a self-perpetuating situation, because the more strife and chaos that exists, the more Malachi can feed off of it, making him more powerful still.”
“Check.” Confirms Thelma.
“Now suddenly we find that apparently out of the goodness of their hearts, the New Church has been helping bring two countries on the brink of war to the negotiating table.”
“Not particularly likely, given their track record.” Adds Midge.
“Exactly. And we also discover that through a network of third parties, the New Church has employed two professional hitmen, just as negotiators for both nations are attending peace talks here in London.” Murmurs Ella.
“Conclusions anyone?” Asks Leon.
Ella doesn’t wait for anyone else to answer: “Key foreign diplomats assassinated. All-out war declared between their respective nations, that – if Malachi has anything to do with it - will spark off conflicts with neighbouring countries, resulting in the entire region descending into war, vastly increasing Malachi’s power, and bringing the apocalypse one step closer.”
Leon looks at Thelma: “Thelma, although we’re still very wary of your source, have they provided you with anything?”
“Malachi’s playing this one very close to his chest.” Reports Thelma. “The only thing my informant has overheard is that a succubus was ordered to deliver packages to individuals at two locations. The packages consisted of high velocity rifles and rather unique ammunition.”
“In what way unique?” Asks Leon.
“Bullets with tips made from a melted-down sword, that slew several angels when wielded during the war in Heaven.” Says Thelma.
“Yeah, that’s pretty unique.” Murmurs Leon.
“Such metal will contain powerful magic.” Explains Ella. “It will greatly intensify and maximise the feelings of grief and anger caused by the deaths of anyone killed by those rounds. Malachi isn’t taking any chances. He wants war to be a certainty.”
Midge starts rummaging in the cardboard box on top of the pile crammed between the wall and the sofa. She produces a London map and unfolds it out on the floor.
Midge looks at Thelma: “Do we know the locations where Malachi’s succubus delivered the packages?”
Thelma nods. “Okay,” Says Midge, “we find out from the ‘net where these nations’ embassies are, ‘cause that’s where the negotiators will be based, and then where the peace summit is taking place. We see if we can sort out the most likely route each motorcade’ll take between the two locations, then factor in any overlooking tall buildings, or vantage points. Basically see if we can predict where the hits are likely to take place.”
“It won’t be easy.” Comments Leon, crouching down next to Midge and studying the map.
Thelma hops off the counter, walks past them, sits down at the desk and starts tapping away at one of the computers.
“The police and the secret service choose their routes with care.” Continues Leon. “And they usually make sure any venue has a underground car park that can be sealed off.”
Thelma discovers from the internet that the embassies of both nations are listed buildings, and therefore not permitted to have underground car parks built, due to structural concerns.
“Even so,” says Leon, “the rooftops nearby are sure to be patrolled, as a routine security measure.”
“The power and influence of the New Church spreads far and wide, into every level of society.” Counters Ella. “I strongly suspect we’ll find there’s been a few lapses in security today.”
Studying the map, Midge discovers two tall buildings overlooking the embassies, with a clear view of each embassy’s entrances.
“Any assassination attempts will be easier there, at the point of departure, than during the motorcades,” muses Leon, “and the security around the venue for the summit will be too intense.”
“Two buildings, two locations, two assassins.” Concludes Ella. “We’ve have to split up. Leon, Midge, take the car to that building.” She jabs a finger at the map. “Thelma, you’re with me. We’ll have to flag down a cab.” She looks around the room at all of them. “Malachi is not starting another war. Not today. Not on our watch.”

Cut to outside the terraced house containing Ella’s flat. Leon and Midge emerge first, clambering into a battered red Vauxhall Corsa (henceforth refered to as the Leonmobile) and setting off. Ella and Thelma run off in the opposite direction.

Cut to a dingy stairwell. Clutching the large briefcase, McElroy reaches the top of the stairs, opens a door and emerges onto a flat rooftop. He looks around, getting his bearings, then walks purposefully to the edge of the building and looks down and across at the embassy opposite.

Cut to Ella running out in front of a black taxi cab, waving her arms and forcing it to stop. She and Thelma both jump in.

Cut to the top of another building. Sanzel crouches down by the parapet at the edge of the roof, next to a slightly-raised flat skylight. He opens the large briefcase and starts to assemble the rifle.

Cut to Leon and Midge speeding through the streets in the Corsa.

Cut to Sanzel. He has assembled the rifle, and turns his attention to the ammunition, pushing the round one-at-a time into the semi-automatic weapon’s clip. Finishing, he shoves the clip into place.

Cut to Ella and Thelma looking pensive in the back of the moving cab.

Cut to Malachi’s penthouse apartment on the top floor of the New Church’s London headquarters. On the far side of the apartment’s main living room is an overhang, that juts out twelve feet from the side of the building. A huge window, floor to ceiling, stretches the length of the overhang, and it also has a glass floor, made of toughened safety glass, so when walking or standing in the overhang, you can look straight down at the street, twenty five storeys below your feet. Malachi is standing in the overhang, looking at the view across the city. Jo enters.
“It should be happening in the next few minutes.” She reports.
“What do you think the chances are of Ella interfering?” Asks Malachi, conversationally.
“Never say never, where Ella’s concerned.” Replies Jo. “They made her the Annointed One for a reason.”
Malachi nods, still admiring the cityscape. “They made a good choice, when they picked her.” He admits. “That’s why I’ve sent some back-up.”

Cut to Leon and Midge running into the lobby of an office building. A burly security guard approaches them.
“Can I help you?” He asks.
Leon glances at Midge, looks at the guard, appears as though he’s about to say something, then launches himself at the guard instead.
“Get to the lift!” Leon yells at Midge as he and the guard grapple. “Head for the roof!”
Midge sprints pass them, runs into a waiting lift and presses the top button. The doors slide shut and – slightly out of breath – Midge gazes silently at the floor numbers lighting up.

Cut to Ella and Thelma arriving on foot at the base of their assigned building. Large faded signs declaring ‘Office Space To Let’ are on display in all the first floor windows. The two of them enter a lobby that is devoid of life.
“I remember reading about this place.” Says Thelma. “The developer went bankrupt just as construction was being completed. It’s remained unsold because there’s all kinds of legal arguments between the creditors. As they head towards the lifts, a security guard appears ahead, walking towards them.
“Morning miss.” He says. “What’s the -”
Without breaking her stride, Ella throws a punch hitting the guard square in the face, and keeps walking as he collapses to the floor. They reach the lifts. Thelma pushes the up button, and they look at the number displays. None of them are lighting up.
“The lifts aren’t operational.” Declares Ella. “Stairs.”

Cut to Midge in the office building, getting out of the lift on the uppermost floor that it travels to, just short of the roof. She looks about. A arrowed sign on the wall reads ‘To Roof’, so she follows the arrow, goes through a door to her left, and starts climbing a flight of stairs.

Cut to the lobby below, where we see the security guard who was struggling with Leon get thrown backwards against the wall. The guard slowly slides unconscious to the floor. The camera pans across to Leon, out of breath and dishevelled, with a split lip.
“Sorry.” He mutters to the guard, not insincerely, then he runs to the lifts.

Cut to Midge on the stairs, as she reaches a landing, rounds a corner - and immediately stops in her tracks. Just a few feet in front of her, crouching on all fours on the next flight of stairs, is a Nephilim. Regarding her, it snarls. Midge is frozen with fright.

Cut to Ella and Thelma, running up the stairs in the unsold building.
“One more floor to go!” Yells Thelma.
They reach a landing, turn to run up another flight, and stop as they see a Nephilim on the next landing. The Nephilim is so hunchbacked that even though it’s standing upright, it’s nearly bent double, it’s claw-like hands hanging just a few inches above the floor. Seeing Ella and Thelma, it roars and starts walking down the stairs toward them, taking deliberate, heavy steps.
“Head for the roof Thelma.” Yells Ella over the creature’s roars. “I’ll handle this.”
Thelma nods nervously, and runs up the stairs, trying to dodge past the Nephilim. It slashes out at her with one of it’s clawed hands, and Thelma instinctly squeals with fear, but as she’s a ghost the talons just pass through her. She keeps running and reaches the landing. The creature shrieks with rage, then turns it’s attention to Ella, as Thelma continues towards the roof.

Cut to Midge, face to face with the Nephilim. The creature raises itself up on it’s upper arms and sniffs the air, smelling her fear. With it’s visage only a foot away from hers, it fixes her with an unblinking stare, and very slowly pulls back it’s lips to reveal huge, curved fangs…. and then it roars at her. Midge screams.

Cut to the rooftop above. Hearing the scream, McElroy jerks his head round.
“I’ve been discovered. I’m compromised.” He mutters under his breath.
He gathers up the briefcase, and - clutching the rifle – runs quickly but cautiously toward the door to the stairs.

Cut to the top of the unsold building. Thelma emerges onto the roof, glances round, and sees Sanzel crouched by the parapet next to the skylight, readying his shot. He’s placed the briefcase on the roof behind himself, slightly to one side. Crouching slightly, Thelma starts to walk slowly and cautiously towards him, almost on tip-toe, trying not to make any sound that might alert him. Suddenly, almost half-way to him, she stops and straightens up.
“What am I doing?” She exclaims. “He can’t see me or hear me!”
She marches up behind him, picks up the briefcase, and – grasping the handle with both hands – swings it with all the strength she can muster, cracking him on the side of the head. Sanzel falls sideways onto the skylight, the glass shatters, and he plunges out of sight. Thelma peeks down through the gaping hole. Sanzel is lying on a concrete floor twenty feet below, his head at an unnatural angle to the rest of his body, his eyes open and unseeing.
“Oops.” Says Thelma.

Cut to Ella and the Nephilim in the stairwell. Having knocked the Nephilim face-first onto the landing floor, Ella has thrown herself on the creature, and is clambering onto it’s back. Shrieking with rage, it tries to dislodge her and throw her off. Clinging onto the beast’s battered and tarnished battle-armour, Ella unreels a garrotte made of thin but strong razor wire from her sleeve, and wraps it twice around the Nephilim’s neck. The creature manages to get to it’s feet and stand upright, with Ella still hanging off it’s back. Yelling, she pulls on the handles at the ends of the garotte with all her strength, and the wire slices clean through the Nephilim’s neck, decapitating it. The severed head rolls forward and Ella falls backwards onto the stairs as the creature’s head and still-upright body disintegrate in a spurt of flame.

Cut to McElroy venturing cautiously down the stairs, briefcase in one hand and holding the rifle pointing ahead with the other. He rounds a corner and comes across the sight of the Nephilim on the stairs below, it’s back to him as it confronts a cowering Midge. McElroy stumbles backwards in shock, the briefcase striking the stairs’ handrail. Alerted by the noise, the Nephilim acts on instinct, jerking round, leaping up the stairs with a cat-like pounce, and shredding McElroy open from hip to neck with a single swipe of it’s claws. As McElroy collapses, he drops the rifle. It lands on the stairs and slides down towards Midge. As the Nephilim busies itself clawing McElroy a few more times to ensure he’s no longer a threat, Midge spots the rifle and lunges for it. The Nephilim spins round as Midge grabs the rifle, and the creature swiftly advances down the stairs on all fours, snarling. As Midge fumbles with the rifle, the Nephilim swipes at her. She stumbles and falls backwards, screaming as the claws slice the air an inch from her face. Behind her, Leon rounds the corner and sees the Nephilim about to pounce on her as Midge finds the trigger, brings the rifle up and fires. BANG. The bullet hits the creature between the eyes at point blank range. Almost immediately, bright light erupts from the bullet hole, then jagged streaks of light race along the length of the Nephilim’s body, as though it’s veins are aflame. Then the creature explodes in an almost noiseless burst of white light.

Cut to Ella emerging onto the rooftop of the unsold building. She spots Thelma by the skylight.
“Did you get him Thelma?” She yells as she walks across.
Thelma jerks a thumb towards the shattered skylight: “Got him!” She reports, “What about Nephilim boy?”
We never hear Ella’s response, as we cut to a long shot of Ella walking up to Thelma, seen through a camera lens.
We hear a click, indicating that a photo of the two girls is being taken.
Cut to a close up of the photographer: a young girl in her late teens/early twenties, standing neat to the concrete barrier on the top floor of a tall, multi-storey car park. We pan back slightly, enabling us to see that she has blonde hair and is dressed in a white t-shirt, white knee-length boots, and a denim jacket and tight jeans –both bleached white. She’s holding the camera to her face, so we can’t get a good look at her. She takes more photos, and we see still images of Ella and Thelma talking on the unsold building’s roof.
Cut to a long shot of the blonde girl turning and walking away from the barrier, holding the camera one-handed by her side. We’re too far away to see what she looks like.

Cut to the office building’s stairwell. Leon helps Midge to her feet. Both of them are staring at where the Nephilim was crouching just a few seconds earlier.
“Are you okay?” Asks Leon.
The question doesn’t register with Midge. “Based on what you guys have told me,” she eventually murmurs, “I’m guessing that was a Nephilim.”
Leon takes the rifle from her. “Well, I’m guessing that we’ve just seen what happens when a Nephilim gets shot with a bullet made from metal taken from a sword used to slew angels.” He declares.
They both stand there for several seconds.
“I need a drink.” Says Midge. “You’re buying.”

Cut to a glass, full of an undoubtedly expensive alcoholic beverage, hitting one of the pieces of modern art hanging on the walls on Malachi’s penthouse apartment. The camera pans round to Malachi, who has clearly just violently thrown said glass. To say he looks none too pleased would be very much an understatement. Behind him, Jo turns and leaves the room, having been the bearer of bad news. Roxy emerges from the apartment’s bedroom.
“I overheard." She murmurs. "What were you thinking, Malachi? The amount of bloodshed… the loss of life that would have been caused….you never would have forgiven yourself.”
Malachi ignores her and continues to fume.

Cut to Ella’s basement flat. Thelma sits on the kitchen counter and Ella is on the sofa. They look up and smile as an equally smiling Midge and Leon enter, the latter carrying McElroy’s briefcase, which he places next to Sanzel’s, already on the floor next to the desk. Ella gets up and dabs at Leon’s split lip.
“You’re wounded.” She murmurs.
“Just a scratch.” He declares. “You’ll be glad to know that all those martial arts lessons you’ve given me finally proved useful.”
“So, no war today then.” Says Midge.
“No.” Replies Thelma. She catches Ella’s eye, and the two friends gaze at each other in silent understanding. “War tomorrow.” Thelma murmurs.

Final scene: Jo is making her regular visit to the asylum. She’s seated at a table, a patient sitting on the opposite side. As before, we can’t see who the patient is.
“The Balkan peace talks are reportedly going well.” Jo says. “An uneasy calm has descended on the region. And we’ve lost two Nephilim. Malachi’s furious, obviously. But enough about that. I’m gaining a new assistant tomorrow, provided by our associate. And I also have some good news. The doctors are very pleased with your progress. They wanted to monitor you and run a few more tests for at least another week, but I’ve persuaded them to release you into my care. You’ll be leaving this place tomorrow.”
Jo pauses. “I have some work that needs doing.” She says. “Work that requires someone with your unique talents. It will probably be very unpleasant, and may well involve having to inflict pain on a great many people. You’ll like that, won’t you?”
As Jo talks, the camera slowly pans round, finally letting us see the patient…
Perie.
“Yes.” She says, in reply to Jo’s question. “I would like that very much.”

[orokiah]

Great stuff as always fenris - getting really dark, complex and twisted now!

Loving your portrayal of Jo (and her quasi-incestuous relationship with Malachi), and I'm really intrigued by where you're going with the fact that Malachi can be hurt by love - great continuity from the actual Hexverse, and really plausible. I totally didn't guess that it was Perie she was talking to in the asylum - I thought it was Cassie's mother!..

And while I'm on the subject of making completely wrong guesses: I think Thelma's mystery informant is Alex...and I'm also starting to think Midge has her (evil) eye on Leon. Watch out Ella!

A really good read - thanks and please keep going!

[Wight witch]

Just read it it's fab keep it up looking forward to the next!!!!!!!

[krusty ketchup]

I've seen, I've read, I've conquered and all I can say is...WOWEE!!! That is sooooooo good.
I kinda guessed from last time that the patient was Perie! But still absolutely bloody amazing. Keep up the good work chick!

[fenris]

Wow. Many, many thanks for all the kind words and encouragement everyone. Knowing that you're enjoying my efforts makes it all worthwhile.

orokiah said:

Loving your portrayal of Jo (and her quasi-incestuous relationship with Malachi)

Yep, there's always unashamedly been a streak of sex in Hex, like words running through a stick of rock. For me, one of the defining moments of the 2nd season was when Jo - who had effectively been Malachi's surrogate mother - returned to Medenham and immediately jumped into bed with him. I thought it was wonderfully twisted, and definitely something I wanted to explore further.

[aquarius]

Another great episode! The sex scene with Jo and Malachi is just the kind of freakishly indulgent kind of thing I'd expect from those kinds of characters in a show like Hex.

Glad to see Perie is back, too!

I have to ask--is there going to be a Virtual Season Four? (Pretty Please?)

Can't wait to read the next one tomorrow!!

[fenris]

Thanks for all your comments, aquarius. I'm looking forward to seeing what you think of the subsequent episodes.

aquarius said:

I have to ask--is there going to be a Virtual Season Four? (Pretty Please?)

Steady on, I've not finished the Third Season yet!!

Seriously though, you'll see from my posts following some of the later episodes that I don't have as much freetime available as I used to, and therefore recent episodes have taken longer to finish. I'm still working on Episode #13 (which leads directly into the Season Finale) but it's going to be some considerable time before it's ready for posting. And I strongly suspect that once I complete the Season Finale, I'll be well and truly Hexed out for a while.

But never say never.

[aquarius]

Just taking a little break from weekend chores to catch up here. I can't wait to read the rest of the episodes!

I can certainly understand a degree of author burnout. I think I'm experiencing it a bit in my primary fandom, as it's been really hard to get inspired. I think that's why I'm getting the itch to write some Hex stories, because it's new (to me, any way) and sometimes in doing something else for a while I find I can approach an older favorite with new inspiration.

At any rate, I'm really impressed with your plotting and characterization and I can't wait to see what else you've given us. Thanks so much for writing back!

[girlhexx]

hi read episode two last night and just finished three will grab an insight straight after thi s post but may not be able to read it as my eyes keep blurring im so knackered 1 1/2 hr swimming lessons 'll do that. i am loving the story cant fault you , maybe except to say that ...maybe your,,a fraud .. and that you work for sky one.... you wrote all hex episodes... and your trying this out on us ... as ..guinea pigs. well it certainly feels that way to me . dont laugh honestly. you must be very modest . these are seriously really good.... and i know a good movie when i see one , hear one,,, read one??!! bye for now