Chapter Text
Location: L.I.G.H.T. Headquarters - Director Gerson’s Office
Tone: Crisp, professional, with underlying warmth and intrigue.
INT. G.E.R.S.O.N.’S OFFICE - NIGHT
A hum of machinery. The faint buzz of fluorescent lights.
Stacks of manila folders clutter the old, dented desk where Gerson, the aging director of L.I.G.H.T., squints through his glasses at two open files.
Behind him, the blue emblem of L.I.G.H.T. flickers on a half-broken holo-screen.
TENNA stands on one side; tall, confident, TV-screen face faintly glowing with static-amber energy. His hands rest on the back of a chair he’s too restless to sit in.
SPAMTON, smaller and sharply dressed in a too-large suit, stands across the room with his arms crossed, eyes hidden behind square glasses. His expression is unreadable.
Gerson
(tapping the files)
Signal. Wire.
(chuckles)
You two don’t look like much of a match. Maybe that’s why it’ll work.
Tenna
Sir, with all due respect, I’ve been running solo ops for the last three years. Efficiently.
Gerson
Sure. Efficiently. And then you burned through four comm partners in one quarter. (leans back) You run too hot, kid. You need balance.
(looks to Spamton)
Wire here doesn’t talk much, but he doesn’t miss a thing. Quiet. Detail-oriented. You could stand to learn a thing or two from him.
Tenna
(tilts his head, smirking)
So, he’s the quiet type? Guess we’ll have to fix that.
Spamton
(without looking up)
Guess we’ll have to fix you talking so much.
(Beat of silence. Tenna blinks once, then grins. Gerson bursts into a short, rough laugh.)
Gerson
That’s the spirit! You’ll figure it out.
(slides the mission folder toward them)
Recon and infiltration. A mid-tier D.A.R.K. data node. Simple, but high-stakes. Signal, you lead in person. Wire, you run shadows and comms.
(leans forward, voice dropping)
And listen. I’m not pairing you two because I think it’ll be easy. I’m doing it because you both need to learn to trust someone.
(Tenna straightens a bit, Spamton’s eyes flicker briefly toward him.)
Gerson
Now go make me proud. Or at least make sure I don’t have to fill out two body reports.
(He laughs, then waves them off. Tenna salutes half-jokingly. Spamton just turns to leave.)
INT. HALLWAY ; MOMENTS LATER
Cold steel corridors stretch ahead, the hum of servers behind every wall.
Tenna flips open the mission file as they walk, glowing hands rifling through pages of data. Spamton trails a step behind, silent but attentive.
Tenna
(reading aloud)
“Target: D.A.R.K. Relay Node, Sector C-Seven.” Oh, good, I love a bit of espionage after dinner.
Spamton
I didn’t know you ate.
Tenna
(snickers)
Funny. A sense of humor and initiative. Maybe we’ll make legends out of you yet, Wire.
Spamton
Or corpses. Legends don’t usually live long.
Tenna
(turns, walking backward now, grin widening)
Ah, so you do talk.
Spamton
Only when someone’s being stupid.
Tenna
Good. Then we’ll get along great.
(They pass under a flickering overhead light. The brief glow casts Tenna’s screen and Spamton’s glasses in mirror reflection; static meeting glass. They hold each other’s gaze for half a second, and something wordless clicks between them.)
Tenna
(softly, more genuine)
Welcome to the team, Wire.
Spamton
(deadpan, but not unkind)
Try not to get us both killed, Signal.
(They move down the corridor, their footsteps syncing in rhythm. The door closes behind them with a hiss. The faint echo of Gerson’s laugh lingers in the dark.)
[END SCENE]