Chapter Text
Location: L.I.G.H.T. safehouse — deep night
Tone: Stillness, moral weight, love and guilt colliding
INT. SAFEHOUSE — NIGHT
The clock ticks softly. Rain threads down the window in slow, silver lines.
Spamton sits at the small desk, the glow from the terminal painting his face in ghostly blue. On-screen, a message window from D.A.R.K. blinks.
Status update requested. Mission summary. Report integrity required.
He stares at it for a long moment, fingers hovering over the keys.
(Voice-over, Spamton’s thoughts)
Every week, every mission — I send them less. Less detail. Less truth.
I told myself it’s strategy. Compromise. Balance.
But it’s not.
It’s because I can’t bring myself to betray him anymore.
He begins typing — slowly, mechanically.
Operation complete. L.I.G.H.T. agents unaware of D.A.R.K. surveillance. Awaiting next directive.
Then he stops. The cursor blinks. Blinks.
He deletes the line.
Types instead:
No new intel to report.
He hits “Send.”
The message disappears into the dark.
Spamton exhales, leaning back in the chair. His hand trembles slightly — whether from fear or relief, even he doesn’t know.
He looks over to the couch.
Tenna is asleep there, half-buried in a blanket, his screen dimmed to a soft, pulsing glow — flickering like the rhythm of breathing.
For a long moment, Spamton just watches.
The exhaustion, the warmth, the ring glinting faintly on Tenna’s finger — his ring.
(Voice-over)
Tomorrow, it’s D.A.R.K.
Their stronghold. Their secrets.
One hit, and they’ll never recover.
He thinks it’s just another mission — one to make us legends.
But I know better.
(He swallows hard, staring at Tenna’s hand.)
(Voice-over, continued)
This is the line. The point of no return.
If I cross it, there’s no going back.
Not to D.A.R.K.
Not to the person I was before him.
He reaches into his shirt, fingers brushing the chain around his neck — the ring resting there, small and cold. He pulls it out, holds it gently in his palm.
Spamton
(whispering, barely audible)
Guess that makes it easy, huh?
You already know what I’ve chosen.
(He glances back at Tenna, soft smile breaking through the tension.)
Spamton (continued)
You’ll take down D.A.R.K. tomorrow. You’ll get your hero’s story.
And when it’s done…
(beat)
When it’s done, I’ll tell you everything.
(He leans back, staring at the rain through the window. The light from Tenna’s screen flickers faintly in the reflection — blue and gold blending in the glass.)
(Voice-over)
I’ll tell him who I was.
What I did.
And if he looks at me the same way after that…
(A small, rueful smile.)
(Voice-over, softer)
…then maybe I’ll finally believe I deserve him.
He closes the terminal, shuts off the light, and sits in the dark for a moment longer — listening to the quiet hum of Tenna’s static like a lullaby.
Then he whispers, so softly it almost disappears into the rain:
Spamton
Goodnight, Signal.
[END SCENE]
The Fall
Location: D.A.R.K. Central Facility, Industrial District, Cyber City
Tone: Hope → Dread → Betrayal → Catastrophe
EXT. CYBER CITY OUTSKIRTS — NIGHT
The skyline fades behind them in streaks of neon and rain. Tenna leads the way through the drenched rooftops, his screen glowing bright, his stride confident. Spamton follows close, unusually quiet.
The air hums with static — the calm before the storm.
Tenna
Big night, huh? One clean sweep and D.A.R.K.’s finished.
Spamton
Assuming they don’t finish us first.
Tenna
That’s the spirit. (laughs)
(Spamton forces a small grin. It doesn’t reach his eyes.)
Tenna
You nervous?
Spamton
Just thinking.
Tenna
About?
Spamton
How this ends.
(Tenna slows, turning toward him — rain glittering across his screen light.)
Tenna
It ends with drinks.
(smiling)
And us becoming heroes of L.I.G.H.T.
(Spamton’s laugh is soft, cracked around the edges.)
Tenna
Gerson’ll give us the week off. Maybe a medal.
(grinning)
We’ll hang it between your ego and my humility.
Spamton
(teasing back)
You’d need a bigger wall.
(They laugh, and for a second — just a second — it feels normal. Safe. Then the laughter fades into quiet footfalls.)
(Voice-over, Spamton)
He believes in the story. The perfect ending.
I wish I could.
(He touches the ring under his shirt.)
(Voice-over, continued)
He deserves the light. Even if it burns me to give it to him.
INT. D.A.R.K. ACCESS TUNNEL — MINUTES LATER
Pipes rattle overhead as they move through the narrow corridor. Tenna scans ahead, voice brisk, focused.
Tenna
Two corridors down, straight into the mainframe. Once we pull the data core, it’s over.
Spamton
You make it sound simple.
Tenna
It will be. We’ve done harder.
(Tenna steps ahead. Spamton lingers — the faint buzz of his comm link cutting through the hum of machinery.)
COMMANDER (through comm): Agent Wire. Confirm position. Awaiting readiness for final directive.
Spamton freezes. He knows that tone.
Spamton
(under his breath)
Not now.
COMMANDER: Directive confirmed. When target Signal completes retrieval… neutralize him.
(The words echo. He stands there — cold, hollow — as Tenna calls softly from around the corner.)
Tenna
Wire? You coming?
(Spamton blinks, forcing himself to move. The weight of the order presses like a stone in his chest.)
INT. MAINFRAME CHAMBER — MOMENTS LATER
Rows of glowing data towers line the walls, humming like a heartbeat. Blue light spills over their faces.
Tenna connects his interface to the core, energy flickering down his arms.
Tenna
Here we go. Once I pull this, we’ll be legends.
(Spamton forces a nod, trying to steady his breathing.)
Spamton
Yeah. Legends.
(He can’t look at him. His earpiece hums again — soft, insistent:)
COMMANDER: Wire, execute order. Confirm termination.
(Spamton grips the edge of the console. His reflection in Tenna’s screen looks like a ghost.)
Tenna
(turning)
Wire? You okay?
(Spamton doesn’t answer. The comm blares louder — insistent, merciless.)
COMMANDER: Confirm termination, Agent Wire. Now.
Tenna
(confused, stepping closer)
What’s going on?
Spamton
(hoarse, trembling)
They know. D.A.R.K. knows.
Tenna
Knows what?
Spamton
About me. About— all of it.
(Tenna stares, disbelief flickering through his glow.)
Tenna
What do you mean “about you”?
Spamton
I was theirs. Before you. Before this.
(desperate)
They had me feeding them intel — small things! Nothing that would hurt you, nothing— I stopped, Tenna, I swear I—
Tenna
(shaking his head, voice cracking)
You— you lied to me?
Spamton
(pleading)
I didn’t want to! I thought I could keep both sides in check— keep you safe—
Tenna
(staggered, voice hollow)
You were spying on me.
Spamton
Not anymore! Please, you have to believe—
(The comm bursts again:)
COMMANDER: Agent Wire, neutralize target Signal. Repeat— neutralize immediately.
(The sound hangs between them like a gunshot.)
Tenna
(quietly)
They just told you to kill me.
(Spamton’s silence says everything. Tenna steps back, static tearing across his screen.)
Tenna
You were supposed to protect me.
Spamton
(shouts, breaking)
I love you!
(The words slam through the noise. For an instant, everything stops — even the hum of the core seems to falter.)
Then—
ALARM BLARES.
Red light floods the room.
SYSTEM ALERT: Containment breach. Self-destruct sequence initiated.
INT. MAINFRAME CORE — CHAOS
Panels explode. Flames erupt from the walls. The floor cracks beneath their feet.
Tenna grabs Spamton’s arm.
Tenna
Move! We have to move!
(They run through the collapsing corridor, debris raining around them. Steam bursts from the vents. Spamton stumbles — the catwalk giving way beneath him.)
He catches himself on a loose cable, dangling over a chasm of fire and metal.
Spamton
(screaming)
Tenna—!
(Tenna skids to the edge, reaching down. Their fingers almost meet—)
Tenna
Hold on! I’ve got you!
(Spamton looks up, eyes wild with fear and heartbreak.)
Spamton
Please—
(Tenna hesitates. Just a heartbeat. But that heartbeat holds everything — the lies, the missions, the trust he thought he knew. Static rips across his glow.)
Tenna
I— I don’t—
*(The wire snaps.)
Spamton falls — his eyes locked on Tenna, hurt eclipsing fear.
Spamton
(echoing, fading)
Tenna—!
He vanishes into the flames.
INT. COLLAPSING FACILITY — CONTINUOUS
Tenna dives forward, reaching, but there’s nothing left to grab.
Tenna
WIRE!
(He stumbles, kneeling at the ledge, smoke and sparks engulfing him. The world crashes down around him as the alarms wail.)
He rips out his comm, static shrieking through the channel.
Tenna
Wire, answer me! Do you copy?!
(Nothing.)
Tenna
(screaming, breaking)
PLEASE!
(Only the roar of the fire answers. The heat warps his reflection — screen flickering between gold and white static. His hand shakes as he picks up the half-melted comm earpiece Spamton dropped. It still glows faintly — a dying signal pulse.)
Tenna
(quietly, desperate)
...Come on. Don’t do this. Don’t—
(The signal flickers once… then dies.)
The light fades from his screen. For a long, unbearable moment, he doesn’t move.
Then the floor trembles again — a deep, final rumble.
He turns, barely escaping the inferno as the entire chamber collapses behind him.
EXT. INDUSTRIAL DISTRICT — NIGHT
The D.A.R.K. complex implodes, a pillar of smoke rising into the sky.
Tenna staggers through the debris, the ring still glinting faintly on his finger — cracked, blackened, but still there.
He falls to his knees as the explosion’s echo fades into the night.
A single word escapes him — raw, broken:
Tenna
…Spamton.
[END SCENE]
Signal Lost
Location: L.I.G.H.T. headquarters — recovery wing → balcony overlooking the city
Tone: Grief, guilt, and the ache of something too real to discard.
INT. L.I.G.H.T. MEDICAL WING — NIGHT
Beeping monitors. A dim blue glow paints the sterile room.
Tenna sits upright on the edge of the bed, patch cables trailing from his arm ports, static softly fuzzing along his edges. His screen is dim — the soft, unfocused light of someone running on fumes.
Outside the window, Cyber City glows like nothing ever happened.
(A knock at the door. A voice — Gerson’s — low and steady.)
Gerson
You did good, son. You brought down D.A.R.K. when nobody else could.
(Tenna doesn’t respond. His gaze stays fixed out the window. Gerson sighs.)
Gerson
Get some rest. You earned it.
(The door shuts. Silence swallows the room.)
(Internal monologue)
“You did good.”
Funny.
If this is good, why does it feel like dying?
(He looks down at his hand — the ring still there, cracked and darkened from the blast. His fingers twitch like he wants to pull it off.)
INT. HALLWAY → BALCONY — MINUTES LATER
Barefoot, coat thrown over his hospital gown, Tenna walks the long, echoing hall until it opens onto the observation balcony.
The night air bites, cool and sharp. The city stretches out below — the same skyline they once watched together.
(He leans on the railing, the wind crackling softly against his frame.)
(Internal monologue)
They call me a hero.
They hand me medals, papers, empty words.
But all I can hear is his voice — “We’ll be heroes.”
Like it was supposed to mean something.
(He holds up the ring between two fingers, watching it catch the light. It’s scorched, warped — but still whole.)
(Internal monologue)
Was any of it real?
The missions, the laughter, the quiet mornings?
Or was I just another name in his reports?
(His hand shakes. For a heartbeat, he nearly lets go — the ring dangling over the drop.)
(Internal monologue)
If it was all a lie… why does it still hurt this much?
(He squeezes the ring in his fist, pressing it hard against his palm until sparks flicker along the edge of his screen.)
(Internal monologue)
I should throw it.
Let the wind take it.
Erase him like the others think I did.
(He raises his hand… then stops.)
(Internal monologue)
But I can’t.
Because even if it was a lie — it was real to me.
Every look. Every word. Every impossible heartbeat.
Real enough that part of me still waits for him to answer.
(He lowers his hand slowly, clutching the ring to his chest. His glow flickers once — not bright, just steady.)
Tenna
(whispering to the night)
You said we’d make it out alive.
Guess you were half right.
(A faint buzz of static hums under his breath — like a broken laugh, like grief caught in a circuit.)
He turns back toward the door, the city lights reflecting off the cracked metal in his hand.
He doesn’t throw it.
He never will.
[END SCENE]
Hero’s Silence
Location: L.I.G.H.T. Auditorium
Tone: Celebration on the surface, quiet devastation beneath.
INT. L.I.G.H.T. AUDITORIUM — DAY
Flashbulbs. Applause. The low hum of triumph.
Tenna stands center stage, polished and motionless, as banners unfurl with the L.I.G.H.T. insignia. Rows of agents fill the seats below — faces bright with admiration.
Gerson stands beside him at the podium, voice ringing out with pride.
Gerson
Agent Signal led the final strike that brought D.A.R.K. to its knees.
(beat, smiling faintly)
L.I.G.H.T. stands taller today because of his courage — and his sacrifice.
(Applause thunder. Cameras flash. Tenna raises his hand mechanically, the ring on his finger catching the light. It glints like fire.)
(Internal monologue)
They cheer for ghosts.
They don’t know the names of the ones who burned.
(His screen’s glow flickers faintly, static crawling at the edges. He forces a smile, rehearsed and hollow.)
(Internal monologue)
I nod, I shake hands. I say thank you.
I let them call me “hero.”
Because that’s what heroes do, right? They survive.
(Another round of applause. The crowd rises. Gerson steps closer, clasping Tenna’s shoulder.)
Gerson
You did good, kid. Really good.
(Tenna’s hand tightens reflexively at his side, but his voice is calm, distant.)
Tenna
Yeah.
Guess I did.
INT. HQ HALLWAY — MINUTES LATER
The celebration fades behind him — laughter, glasses clinking, voices echoing down the corridors.
He walks alone.
Every light feels too bright. Every word from earlier repeats in his head like a distorted recording:
“You did good.”
“Hero.”
“You saved us.”
(Internal monologue)
They don’t know what it cost.
They don’t know who I left behind.
(He steps into the elevator. The doors slide shut, cutting off the noise completely.)
INT. L.I.G.H.T. ROOFTOP BALCONY — EVENING
The city stretches below, awash in gold light from the setting sun. The same balcony he stood on days ago, only this time, there’s no ring in his hand — it’s already on his finger, cracked and blackened.
He holds it between thumb and forefinger, watching the light glint off its warped surface.
(Internal monologue)
If I threw it, maybe I could start over.
Forget the way he laughed.
Forget the sound of his voice when he said my name.
(He raises it slightly, hesitating, the wind tugging at his coat.)
(Internal monologue)
But heroes don’t get to forget.
They just keep walking — carrying what’s left.
(He lowers his hand, the ring pressed to his chest. His glow flickers once, soft gold bleeding into faint static blue.)
Tenna
(whispering, barely audible)
You said we’d make it out alive.
(A pause. Then, quietly — a voice that isn’t anger, or despair, just raw honesty.)
Tenna
You lied.
And I still love you.
(The wind answers — soft, endless. Tenna stays there until the light fades, a silhouette against the sky, the sound of celebration long gone.)
[END SCENE]
Strings Cut
Location: D.A.R.K. containment facility → forgotten years → Queen’s armory → the birth of N.E.O.
Tone: Psychological horror → loss → reclamation → rebirth.
INT. D.A.R.K. CONTAMINATION BAY — UNKNOWN LOCATION
Darkness. Cold light.
Spamton lies on an operating table, his body half-scorched, his left arm replaced by cables feeding into the ceiling. His eyes flicker between white static and dim blue.
A pair of D.A.R.K. technicians move around him, their words clinical, detached.
Tech 1: Neural activity’s unstable.
Tech 2: Doesn’t matter. We don’t need him stable. We just need him contained.
A metal halo lowers around his head. Sparks flare. His body jerks violently.
System log: “Operation SILENCE—protocol engaged.”
Spamton (hoarse whisper)
T—Tenna…?
(No one answers. The halo tightens. His voice glitches mid-word.)
Spamton
T—TTT—Signal—
(The sound cuts. His jaw moves but no words form — only static hiss.)
Tech 2: Speech inhibitors functioning. He can’t talk about us now.
They log the result. One technician lingers a moment, almost pitying.
Tech 1: Poor thing. Puppet without strings.
Then they leave.
The light fades.
He’s alone.
INT. D.A.R.K. STORAGE — LATER
Time loses meaning. Days blur into a single dim hum.
Spamton sits in a cage-like pod, eyes blank, his body humming faintly with residual charge.
They run diagnostics on him like a broken terminal.
When the power cuts, he’s left in silence.
(Internal monologue, fragmented)
no
voice
no
name
only static
only orders
(A faint image flickers through his mind: Tenna’s hand reaching for him, stopping halfway. The look of doubt. The fall.)
(Internal monologue)
If you ever loved me…
You’d never have let me fall.
(He stares at the reflection in the glass — barely human anymore. The words he can’t say echo inside his head instead.)
EXT. CYBER CITY BACK ALLEYS — YEARS LATER
He escapes — or maybe they just forget about him.
By now, D.A.R.K. has erased his identity.
No name. No data. No home.
He scavenges parts to replace the ones that no longer work. Sells broken tech for credits. Talks to ghosts in the static.
Every now and then, he sees Tenna’s face on a billboard — L.I.G.H.T.’s shining hero.
He laughs until it breaks into sobs.
(Internal monologue)
They called me too loud. Too much.
Then they took my voice and called me nothing.
(He kicks over a trash heap, breathing hard, hands trembling.)
(Internal monologue)
I won’t fade.
I won’t be a ghost.
INT. QUEEN’S ARMORY — NIGHT
Years later, he sneaks into Queen’s fortress, chasing a rumor: a weapon that could “make you more than human.”
The armory hums with dormant machines — prototypes, armor, weapons. Among them, covered in dust, stands the N.E.O. suit: sleek, winged, humming faintly with old power.
A flicker catches his eye — inside the display case, a faint blue pulse.
It beats to the same rhythm as Tenna’s old broadcast frequency.
Spamton steps closer, hand shaking.
Spamton
(raspy, half-laughing)
You really can’t stay out of my head, huh, Signal?
(He touches the glass. The suit responds — eyes flicker on, faint magenta glow. The system hums alive.)
System Voice: Neural compatibility detected. Identity: UNKNOWN.
Override accepted.
He stares at the reflection: broken, forgotten, nameless.
Spamton
(smiling faintly)
No name, huh?
Then I’ll make one.
(He cracks open the casing. The suit unfolds like a pair of wings. Wires slide into his body — merging, reshaping. The static in his chest steadies into rhythm. The armor seals around him in a flare of neon light.)
INT. ARMORY — CONTINUOUS
When the light fades, he stands taller, steadier — eyes glowing hot pink through the visor.
Spamton
(softly, almost reverent)
No strings.
No masters.
Not anymore.
He flexes his new hands — the metal responds like muscle, alive.
System Voice: N.E.O. synchronization complete. Welcome, Operator.
He grins — wide, unrestrained, free.
Spamton
Wire.
Call me Wire.
(He looks around at the dark room — at the shadows that once hid him — and laughs. The sound echoes, wild, beautiful, defiant.)
MONTAGE — “THE RISE OF N.E.O.”
- He hacks into D.A.R.K.’s old networks, leaving taunting broadcasts across the city.
- He recruits the lost, the exiled, the overlooked — Jevil, Sweet Cap’n Cakes, Ramb, and others.
- Each joins under the same banner: No more strings.
- The once-silent voice becomes loud again — a storm of neon, noise, and rebellion.
(Internal monologue)
You wanted me silent, Tenna.
You wanted me gone.
But I’m still here.
Loud enough for the whole city to hear.
(He stands atop a neon billboard, wind tearing through the cables, the suit glowing like a new dawn.)
Spamton / Wire
(grinning, to the skyline)
Let’s see if your hero can hear me now.
(The screen cuts to black, the sound of laughter trailing into static.)
[END SEQUENCE]