I hope you guys like this one...
EXT. Max's Quarters. Day.
We open to a cieling view of a crime scene. Numerous people are standing about. Two medics are carrying away a cart with a bodybag on top. Detectives are taking pictures of the area. Suddenly, a door whooshes open, and in-steps Sandwich. We cut to a close over-the-shoulder view of him, as he walks towards Shrike. He's facing the other way, with his arms crossed and his rubbing his temple with one hand. He hears Sandwich's footsteps and turns around to look at him. He sighs. We cut back and forth between them as they talk.
Shrike: Hey Sandwich, what's up?
Sandwich: Nothing much...what happened here? It's a mess...
Shrike: Yea...Max was killed last night. Someone heard a scream and called the admins. The new guy, the one in the cloak, was the first to arrive.
Sandwich: Do we know who did it?
Shrike: (Takes a deep breath) Yes...where were you last night?
Sandwich: What do you mean...?
He gasps, and his face goes wide with recognition.
Sandwich: Surely you don't think it was me?
Shrike: Sandwich...I don't know what to think. The knife has your fingerprints, and it is yours...
He turns to look at two black-suited figures emerge from inside Max's quarters. They're holding a small container, which is humming and glowing a slightly bluish color. Sandwich runs over to it and grabs it from the two investigators. He opens it quickly and reaches inside. As the two investigators are about to protest, Shrike shush's them with a bob of his hand. Shrike draws out the knife from the previous scene, and rotates it in his hand. Small glints of light flash off it's polished surface, intermixed with semi-dried blood.We cut to a close-up of the knife. It stops rotating. We see, as a reflection, half of Sandwich's face. His eye is wide. A small trickle of blood runs down the knife. We hear Shrike, off-screen.
Shrike: It's a special knife, as you know. Vaporises anything withing two inches once it contacts anything but it's sheeth, which you own.
Shrike: Max was stabbed once in the head. A few minutes later, it seems he was stabbed again in the head. I'm sorry, Sandwich, but...
Sandwich: But what...?
Shrike: (Takes another breath) I want your resignation papers on my desk in two hours.
We cut to the floor. The knife drops, and hits it. Slowly around it, the ground seems to seep away, revealing a second layer of metal. We cut to a close-up of the ground near the nife. A small pool of blood forms. We cut to:
INT. Court Room. Day.
Sandwich is standing in the center of the room, head down. We are rotating around him. In front of him is arrayed a number of judges. The one in the center is J.F.K. When he his voices echo in the room.
J.F.K: It is the opinion of this court that the admin known as Sandwich is guilty of cold-blooded murder...
He pauses, and sighs, as if he doesn't like what he's about to say.
J.F.K: Due to your...formerly...high status, you will not be put in jail. However, you will be stripped of your rank and postcount, and you will be required to clean out your quarters and surrender all weapons currently in your possetion.
J.F.K lifts up his gavel and his about to strike.
Sandwich: (Lifts head up a bit) Uh...Your Honour?
J.F.K pauses and looks at Sandwich queerly.
Sandwich: Who will be replacing me?
J.F.K: Hm? Oh, ZylonBane. He was suggested by the new admin...
Sandwich: Thank you, Your Honor....
His head slumps back down, and J.F.K raises the gavel. He strikes, and the boom echoes across the interior of the room. He strikes 3 more times as we fade to:
INT. Docking Bay Control Room.
We open to a faint bluish glow everywhere. People are standing about, or sitting in front of random screens. We cut to SKYNETT-011. He puts a finger up to his head.
Skynett: Hello Ganymede. Please state name and reason for visit.
A grainy voice comes over the radio.
Voice: Kalifreth. Business.
Skynett: Roger that, Ganymede, you are cleared to dock in Docking Bay 12.
Voice: Thank you. Ganymede out.
We cut to:
INT. Docking Bay 12. Day.
We see the familiar electrical dis-charge, as a large, sleek ship comes through the window. There is another discharge as the force-field comes back on-line. We cut to inside of the ship. Everything is black, until, suddenly, a shaft of light opens up, revealing the siloughette of a man with cleanly-cut hair. He bends his head down a bit, and puts on a pair of sunglasses. We cut to a front view of the port. A staircase extends, and outsteps the siloughette. He is wearing a large cape, wrapped loosely around his body. A fold of it is covering the bridge of his nose down on his face, and his sunglasses are completely opaque. We cut to a side-view of the first step. A large combat boot steps on it with a loud clang, and we cut to: