PAGE ONE (6 panels)
Panel 1. ANew Orleanscity street. Nighttime, rainy and overcast. In the intermittent glare of streetlights, we see the shadowed bulks of cars resting against the curb.
New Orleans, sometime afterward.
Panel 2. Same view. Headlights now stab into the scene from left of panel.
Panel 3. An extended-cab truck has shot in from left of panel, splashing water in all directions. In the mist behind it, we see a vaguely-defined humanoid figure, its arms outstretched toward the truck.
Panel 4. Overhead angle on the truck as it skids around a corner, its back end crashing into a parked car.
Panel 5. Medium shot through the rainswept windshield. The driver is male. He looks to be in his early forties and handsome. His shirt is torn at the shoulder, his face dirty. A deep scar runs from his forehead, over his left eye, and down his cheekbone, though the eye itself is intact. He is THERON MCCOY.
You wanna get rough, huh?
All right, baby. I got somethin’ for ya.
Panel 6. Close-up of his hands. In one, he holds a pipe bomb with a short fuse, a lit cigarette lighter in the other. We can see that he’s steering with one knee.
PAGE TWO (5 panels)
Panel 1. Shot from the front of the truck, which is still throwing water off its tires; Theron is visible through the windshield. His left arm hangs out the window; the pipe bomb hangs in the air, arcing backward. We can see the vaguely-humanoid figure in the background.
Panel 2. The street explodes.
Panel 3: Extreme close-up of Theron’s rearview mirror. We can see his eye to left of panel. The bulk of the mirror shows the cloud from the explosion; the humanoid figure is running through it, seemingly unscathed, though we can really only see the silhouette. We can tell the figure is large.
Panel 4: Overhead long shot showing the path of the truck flying across a six-lane intersection and onto a one-lane street. The figure still pursues, but it’s pretty far behind.
Panel 5: The truck skids to a stop in front of a several-feet-high pile of twisted metal that used to be eight or ten cars. They’ve been smashed together as if in one violent wreck covering the one-lane street from sidewalk to sidewalk.
PAGE 3 (5 panels)
Panel 1. Interior shot of the truck. Theron is stuffing a flashlight into one of two black duffel bags. His head is craned around, looking back the way he came.
Panel 2. Theron scrambles up the pile of metal, the two bags slung over his shoulders.
Shit, shit, shit.
Panel 3. He falls leaps to the ground on the other side of the metal pile.
Panel 4. He lies flat on the ground, his hands over his head. Sounds emanate from the other side of the pile.
Panel 5. Theron has shouldered the bags again. Now he’s slipping away from the pile, looking back at it over his shoulder.
So much for that truck.
PAGE FOUR (5 panels)
Panel 1. Carrying the bags, Theron slinks through a deserted street. We see empty cars parked along the curb. Lights are on in a couple of storefronts in the background. The rest have been smashed in. This is supposed to be the French Quarter, so if you need some images of the architecture, let me know.
Panel 2. On another street, he picks his way around dead bodies lying on the sidewalk. We see more damage to the buildings.
Panel 3. He slips into a darkened alley and is almost lost from view.
Panel 4. In the alley, he has stopped beside a nondescript door. He raps on it.
Knock Knock Knock
Who else would it be?
Panel 5. We’re inside the building. A fiftyish, heavyset African-American man has opened the door for Theron; one arm is still extended with his hand on the door, as if he’s pulling it shut. This is LEO PAUL. Theron has walked past him.
The Bartlett Hotel, the French Quarter
Did you run into any trouble?
Nothin’ we don’t see every day.