DARK UNIVERSE written by Michael Gilio based on the treatment by Guillermo del Toro inspired by the DC comic JUSTICE LEAGUE DARK second draft 3/25/2015 WARNER BROS. DC Entertainment THE VOID. A cosmic nothingness, wind-howling in the dark. ... let's sit with that disquieting image for awhile ... just long enough for the existential dread to sink in, then: CONSTANTINE (V.O.) Vast as our Universe is ... (a British voice) It is ruled by only two forces: SMASH CUT TO: AN ARCTIC SUN, dazzling white on a snowy horizon. CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) The LIGHT. Giver of life. JUMP TO: PITCH-BLACKNESS, from deep inside an ice cave. CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) And the DARK. The force of decay and destruction. TITLE: SOMEWHERE IN EAST ANTARCTICA A solitary SILHOUETTE appears at the mouth of a giant cave, a bright flare emanating from its hip; bundled up, wearing a scarf and infrared goggles; the Figure looks like an alien. CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) Light and Dark. Life and Death. The Figure warily approaches an impossibly-high WALL OF ICE. CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) These forces are always at war. Always. JUMP TO: A PICK-AX, chipping away at the ice, over and over, getting faster and faster with the rush of discovery-- CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) But between these opposing forces ... there's a dividing line ... The pick-ax STOPS; through the cracked web of ice ... CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) A blurring. An overlap. (CONTINUED) 2. TWO BOOKS. Weathered, ancient, ominous. CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) This is the realm of magic. JUMP TO: THE BOOKS, hitting the ground with a THUD. A gloved hand wipes away the snow, revealing a title inscribed in cuneiform. CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) But when you play with magic-- when you trick the Universe into giving you something you haven't earned-- From somewhere deep in the core of the world, there's a RUMBLING; the Figure quickly shoves the Books into a satchel-- CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) You pay for it. JUMP TO: THE ARCTIC SUN, suddenly blocked by the moon, a violent, total SOLAR ECLIPSE; black storm clouds race across the sky. CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) You always pay for it. SMASH CUT TO: EXT. FREEWAY - DAY TITLE: I-75 NORTH FREEWAY, ATLANTA, GA. A biblical THUNDERSTORM batters down on an elevated freeway. Morning TRAFFIC flows smoothly on the overpass. Below, on another freeway, the traffic flow is stalled. WE FOLLOW A POLICE CRUISER Through the storm, en route to an ACCIDENT, slowly pushing its way through the underpass traffic. It passes a REPORTER, struggling with an umbrella, standing before a TV van: TV REPORTER --this odd, violent weather , unlike anything we've ever seen before, in addition to an accident jamming up-- Whup- a blast of a siren, and the police cruiser comes up on-- (CONTINUED) 3. A HUNCHED MAN. Wearing a cloak, its hood large and heavy, the Man's face hidden in shadow. He strolls between the stalled cars, a WOODEN STAFF clicking at his side, a satchel thrown over his shoulder. He dips into the satchel, scattering pebbles (or something) across the freeway pavement. POLICE OFFICER Hell's he doin , is he-- HIS PARTNER Throwing stuff on the ground. They pull over. The Driver leans out the window: on the pavement ... RED SEEDS. The Officer reaches for the console: POLICE OFFICER (O.S.) (from a loudspeaker) Hey, Johnny Appleseed. Whattayou think you're doing, huh? From under the shade of the Man's hood: THE MAN Beneath the concrete ... And from out of the red seeds: THE MAN (CONT'D) THE FOREST. GIGANTIC BLACK TENDRILS EMERGE Spiraling UPWARDS, the Earth RUMBLING, the freeway TREMBLING, the angry vines as thick as the freeway's pylons-- THEY SMASH THROUGH the pavement above, the concrete breaking into large chunks, sending cars and SUVs into orbit-- Traffic veers, screeches, crashes. CHAOS. A massive oil tanker loses control, veering away from a giant PINEWOOD TREE that has inexplicably burst through the road-- SLAMS into a half-dozen cars, plowing them over the guardrail-- THE CARS PLUMMET to the freeway below-- EXPLOSIONS. DISEASED ROOTS AND BRANCHES SURGE outward from the skyscraper- sized plants, blotting out the sky, a sudden, dark canopy. The Man in the Cloak. He stands frozen in the fiery chaos. Stares at his hand. (CONTINUED) 4. It's desiccated and twisted like a bundle of dry kindling. From his satchel, he pulls out a HYPODERMIC NEEDLE, filled with a bright florescent GREEN formula-- JABS it in his arm, depresses the plunger ... his eyes roll back into his head. ... the bundle starts to regenerate, stems and vines and branches intertwining into sinew tissue and tendons. Somewhere behind him-- THE OIL TANKER EXPLODES. He doesn't flinch. POLICE OFFICER (O.S.) On your knees, NOW, hands up. The COPS warily approach; they have the Man surrounded, their weapons trained on him, the rain coming down in black sheets. THE GROUND EXPLODES around the patrolmen's feet-- ROT-BLACK TENDRILS snake and wrap around their bodies, squeezing them, their faces becoming red-- then purple, then-- THEY'RE CASUALLY TOSSED, their rag-doll bodies tumbling into the horizon, their screams dissolving at the vanishing point. It is all quiet. An ancient BLACK FOREST has emerged in the middle of the freeway, knotty, and expressionistic, like an Arthur Rackham storybook illustration. It's oddly and darkly beautiful. REPORTER Oh, God, my God, what is happening? The Man steps up to the TV Reporter. Pulls off his cloak: He wears a snow-boarding mask, an image of a grinning skull. Looks in the camera ... and with an electronically-scrambled voice, he speaks directly to us: THE MAN Civilization is a cancer. (his eyes glow RED) I am its cure. INT. A SHITTY MOTEL ROOM Watching the broadcast on a dim TV set: THE MAN Surrender to the past. (CONTINUED) 5. REPORTER --the authorities seek to question, regarding this bizarre incident-- WE SLOWLY PULL BACK FROM THE TV ... A makeshift detective's office; stacks of ancient-looking books; a gun holster thrown over a chair; surveillance photos tacked on the wall, including a telephoto image of the skull- faced eco-terrorist; and we move directly over the shoulder of SOMEONE watching the attack, the newscast freezing on-- REPORTER (CONT'D) --this unidentified man ... The frozen image of-- CONSTANTINE (O.S.) Woodrue. REVERSE ON: JOHN CONSTANTINE. 30's, bleached-blonde hair, shirtless. He leans into a Zippo flame, lights a Silk Cut cigarette, and SNAPS the Zippo shut: CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) And so it begi-- He ERUPTS into a violent coughing fit. TITLE: NEW YORK CITY CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) War is coming. INT. MOTEL BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS Doubled over a sink, gripping its edges, Constantine COUGHS. CONSTANTINE (V.O.) And just like any war, this one needs agents, mediators. Mercenaries. He peers into the porcelain basin ... tiny droplets of BLOOD. CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) I am one of these mercenaries. Stares at himself in the mirror; unshaven, world-weary. His body riddled with scars. CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) Not good. Not bad. (CONTINUED) 6. Tacked on the mirror, is a blurry SNAPSHOT: GIOVANNI ZATARA, 50's, hairline mustache, tux, tails, a magician, backstage after a performance with his daughter, ZATANNA; 20's, raven-haired, bright-eyed, and JOHN CONSTANTINE; younger, smiling. Happier days. CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) But what we are? He stares at the photo, at Zatanna ... CONSTANTINE (V.O.) (CONT'D) Is absolutely necessary. DARK UNIVERSE SMASH CUT TO: A WRISTWATCH, poking out from under a hiked sleeve: 12:33. CONSTANTINE (O.S.) (CONT'D) Bollocks EXT. CENTRAL PARK - MORNING Tourists, street performers, a rinky-dink carnival. Above it all, though ... A SOLAR ECLIPSE, casting an eerie half-light; the crowd stares up at it, anxious, wearing sunglasses, shielding their eyes. RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.) --solar eclipse, occurring outside of a normal eclipse season, has scientists baffled, and people worried over yet another strange-- WE FIND CONSTANTINE-- trench coat flapping in the wind, loose tie; he pushes his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on: CARL CARNAHAN. 40's, bookish, bespectacled. He pauses at a bargain bin outside a used bookstore; "THIRD EYE BOOKS". Selects a volume, flips through it, puts it back. Moves on-- CONSTANTINE FOLLOWS HIM ... past a bald, fat slob, BOBBY, 40's, and his angry wife, SELENA, also 40's. (CONTINUED) 7. They struggle to tie a mounted SWORDFISH to their station wagon: BOBBY Where the hell are we gonna put this damn thing? SELENA It's my money, I can do whatever I-- PIGEONS SCATTER into the sky-- --just as Constantine moves past a beat-up TRUCK, a large SHEET OF MIRRORED GLASS secured in its flatbed. He follows Carnahan downhill, heading for a diner: JET JERRY'S TIME MACHINE. He enters the place; John ducks in after him. CONSTANTINE (prelap) A dabbler in the dark arts, aye? INT. JET JERRY'S DINER - LATER Constantine leans into a Zippo flame, lights a cigarette: CONSTANTINE Amateur mahatma? Weekend wizard? Tell me-- SNAPS the Zippo shut, exhales, speaks directly to us. CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) What is it you desire from the Books of Magic? Immortality? God-like powers? A bigger johnson, perhaps? (leans in, conspiratorial) Look here, mate. I don't know how you acquired the world's most forbidden Books of spells and invocations, and frankly, I don't care. But the mere discovery of these Books, and your sneaky lil dealings, have triggered a cosmic rupture of catastrophic propositions, which is a very, very bad thing. REVERSE ON: Carnahan, blinking confusedly. He sits hunched at a counter, a cup of coffee trembling before him. CARNAHAN Who are you, exactly? John offers a hand-- (CONTINUED) 8. CONSTANTINE Constantine. John Constantine. Occult detective. Rogue mage Iconoclast. --his hand hangs there, lamely. CARNAHAN So. You want me-- CONSTANTINE Yessir CARNAHAN To give to you-- CONSTANTINE The Books of Magic, yes, please. CARNAHAN Which would then allow you to-- CONSTANTINE Return the Books to where they rightfully belong, save the world, and everyone in it. CARNAHAN But not me. CONSTANTINE No. Not you. You're going to die-- (checks his wristwatch) --in 3 minutes now, so. Snap, snap. Carnahan bites his lower lip. CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) I don't mean to come off as insensitive, mate, I understand this is a lot to process in a short amount of time, but, seriously. Carl. Bloke The state of the cosmic order is presently in your hands, so, please, stop blinking vacantly at me, and man up. Capeche ? WAITRESS (O.S.) Sir, you cannot smoke in here. A WAITRESS totters on roller skates with a too-tight uniform. She sets down a burger in front of Carl-- CONSTANTINE Pardon me. (CONTINUED) 9. Constantine reaches across Carl, peeks under the bun-- CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) Oh, no. No, I'm sorry, luv. Hands the plate back. CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) No pickles, please. CARNAHAN I like pickles. CONSTANTINE (a patient smile) It doesn't matter what you like, Carl. You're not going to eat it. CARNAHAN (to the Waitress) I want my burger, to go, please, with pickles And quickly. CONSTANTINE Yes, quickly. (eyes his wristwatch) You have 2 minutes now. WAITRESS Sir. You can not-- CONSTANTINE Putting it out, putting it out. Crushes the cigarette on a tea cup saucer, and she's gone, rolling down the aisle. He lights another cigarette. CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) Carl. We don't have much time-- CARNAHAN How do you know my name? CONSTANTINE Carl Carnahan. Antique book dealer. Tax cheat. Closeted Satanist A WINK. Carnahan is getting uncomfortable. CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) I know all about you, Carl. You've been a very naughty lad, playing with powerful things that are beyond your comprehension. (CONTINUED) 10. CARNAHAN What do you want? CONSTANTINE The key. The one to your safe with the Books in it. Behind the oak bookshelf, in the east wing of your penthouse suite. Where is it? Carl BOLTS to his feet-- CARNAHAN I don't like this conversation. And he moves quickly for the exit. CONSTANTINE (O.S.) Do you have the key on you? Constantine is right there, keeping pace. CARNAHAN No, I-- (flustered) There is no key. CONSTANTINE Whattayou mean, there is no key? Hullo-- Snatches the "to go" bag from the Waitress at the register, and Carnahan SNATCHES it back, throwing her a wad of bills-- EXT. CENTRAL PARK - CONTINUOUS ... and now they're moving quickly through the park again. CARNAHAN Whoever you are, please, I beg you , please, don't hurt me-- CONSTANTINE Christ. Who do you think I am? TWO KIDS zip between them on skateboards. Carnahan STOPS. CARNAHAN Let's say I were to open the safe for you. Would you spare me my life? CONSTANTINE There's no bargaining here, mate. If it were up to me, I'd buy you a pint and we'd have a laugh-- (CONTINUED) 11. Carl takes off again, near-jogging. John tries to keep up-- CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) You played with magic, Carl, real magic. And when you make games of real black magic, you pay for it. You always pay for it. They move past BOBBY and SELENA, finishing the tying of the huge fish to the roof of their station wagon-- CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) You are going to die. Carnahan STOPS again-- he looks as if he may cry. CARNAHAN How do you know? CONSTANTINE (quick) Are you familiar with the cosmic avatar of Destiny, member of the Endless, and presider of the Garden of the Forking Ways? CARNAHAN ... huh? CONSTANTINE It is written. In his Book. Just trust me on this. There's no use running away from it. You can do the world a lot of good by just-- handing over the key. A palm out. The TWO MOVERS struggle with the large sheet of mirrored glass, inching past them. Carnahan thinks, then: CARNAHAN The Books are in my safe. I don't want anything to do with them anymore , I-- odd things are happening all around me. I got scared. I sold them. They no longer belong to me. CONSTANTINE Sold em. To whom? CARNAHAN He was going to pick them up. Tonight. CONSTANTINE Who? Who is going to pick them up? (CONTINUED) 12. The station wagon engine ROARS, Bobby and Selena in the front seat now, the car beginning to move downhill-- CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) We can't allow the Books to fall into the wrong hands , who is it? CARNAHAN If I tell you-- CONSTANTINE No time, just-- gimmee the key. CARNAHAN I am the key. It's a fingerprint reader, see? (raises his right hand) My right hand is the key. Constantine blinks. CONSTANTINE You must be joking. Checks his wristwatch again. Lets out a heavy sigh. CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) Bollocks And then it all happens at once: PIGEONS shoot up from the pavement-- The GLASS-MOVERS tilt the mirrored sheet to avoid the birds-- The glass sharply reflects the sun, directly into-- Bobby's eyes. SELENA SCREAMS, just as the station wagon nearly hits the TWO SKATEBOARDERS. Bobby hits the breaks, HARD ... And the SWORDFISH is catapulted through the air, a perfect, deadly arch, its spear cutting through the air towards-- CARNAHAN Oh, God. THUNK -- and Carl is impaled there in the street, STUCK, like a martini olive, the "to go" bag hitting the ground and rolling to a STOP at Constantine's feet. John picks it up, reaches inside, and takes a bite out of the burger-- Spits. (CONTINUED) 13. CONSTANTINE Pickles. SMASH CUT TO: A GURNEY, carrying Carnahan's sheet-covered body. CONSTANTINE (O.S.) (CONT'D) I was his closest friend, poor, dear Carl. I'll miss him so. He's lifted into the back of a MORGUE WAGON by TWO CORONERS. CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) Would you fellows mind if I rode along with him? Keep him company? INT. MORGUE WAGON - DAY The back doors are SLAMMED shut. And the wagon pulls away from the scene of the "accident". Constantine sits beside poor, dear Carl Carnahan, alone, the sheet tented from where the "sword" still remains. He rifles through the dead man's pockets-- CONSTANTINE Where are you, lil bugger? CARL'S WALLET. Pulls out a few bills (pockets them), then finds an embossed BUSINESS CARD printed on linen paper: "Jason Blood - Antiquity Scholar" CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) Bloody Jason Blood Now why would you want the Books of Magic, aye? Finds Carnahan's right arm, hikes up his sleeve, ponders the dead man's WRIST. Knocks on the wrist bone: hard stuff. Searches the vehicle, finds: a STRAIGHT RAZOR, in a drawer. Holds it up to the wrist ... attempts to sever it-- CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) Oi Give us a break-- Too stiff. Tosses the razor-- STOPS. Sniffs at the air. A black, fat FLY buzzes around his head, as if deliberately irritating him-- lands on his hand. (CONTINUED) 14. KLARION (O.S.) Got a hot tip for you, Johnny. In the corner of the ceiling, like a spider in its web, is a smiling, ten-year old, blue-faced boy with a pageboy haircut: KLARION THE WITCH BOY. A halo of flies encircle him. CONSTANTINE Blimey , Klarion, don't sneak up on me like that. You find anything juicy on this Woodrue wanker ? The boy scurries across the morgue wagon walls, insect-like. KLARION He's a doctor. A botanist. Working for an industrial combine, toiling away on a secret, personal project. CONSTANTINE What kind a secret project? KLARION A doomsday project. To destroy civilization as we know it. He's calling it ... (dramatic pause) "Project Innanna ." CONSTANTINE " Innanna ". The devil does that mean? KLARION You're the detective. CONSTANTINE And how does Dr. Woodrue intend to execute said doomsday project? KLARION The Books of Magic. CONSTANTINE Of course. KLARION He doesn't know where it is, though. Like you, he's searching for them. CONSTANTINE No one knew where they were, till some tosser unearthed em. Now anyone who's ever played with a Quija Board at a sleepover wants a piece of it. (CONTINUED) 15. Beat. Constantine bites his lip, wanting to ask something-- CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) You, uh. Got anything else, mate? Klarion smiles. KLARION Johnny. You're living on borrowed time, why torture yourself? CONSTANTINE You have anything on her, or no? Klarion steps down to the floor; he's a small fellow, neatly- dressed, the halo of flies buzzing around his head. KLARION Maybe I do. Sticks a tiny blue palm out. KLARION (CONT'D) Maybe I don't. CONSTANTINE Oh, no. No. I've given you enough. KLARION Would you like me to tell " Zee" that you're having her followed? He doesn't. Sighs. Reaches into his trench coat, pulling out a LEATHER POUCH. Rummages around in there (it's seemingly bottomless) and pulls out a bright, florescent-pink PHIAL. Hands it over-- Klarion's eye widen --then yanks it back. CONSTANTINE What are you doing with all this astral energy I keep giving you? KLARION Nuthin. Bartering it. CONSTANTINE You're not ingesting it, are you? Klarion shyly shakes his head. CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) You better not. You can't handle it, kid, it'll make you power mad, a megalomaniac Take it from me. John reluctantly hands him the phial. Klarion pockets it. (CONTINUED) 16. CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) Give it to me straight, kid KLARION I must say, Johnny ... I don't know what Zatanna ever saw in you ... The halo of flies swarm into the center of the morgue wagon, the black cloud taking shape into ... a woman's face, ZATANNA. KLARION (CONT'D) She's beautiful, kind, and nurturing. She's all these things, the buzzing portrait smiles at John. KLARION (CONT'D) These days, I'm afraid she's looking for someone more sensitive, and sophisticated, and thoughtful. CONSTANTINE What, like you? KLARION (quiet) ... why not? I'm in love with her. John BARKS a laugh. CONSTANTINE You're just a lil blue boy, Klarion. The face of Zatanna turns angry, DEMONIC: KLARION There are LOTS OF THINGS one can offer a woman other than your SARCASM and ASH TRAY BREATH-- CONSTANTINE Whoa, re-lax, kid. You better ease off the astral-- KLARION (blunt) Zatanna has a boyfriend. John blinks. KLARION (CONT'D) Does that upset you, John? Does that make you insecure? Why do you even care? You didn't treat her well when you had her. (CONTINUED) 17. CONSTANTINE Who is he, then? Some brooding magician? Square-jawed super hero? KLARION An accountant. John blinks again. KLARION (CONT'D) He intends to propose to her. CONSTANTINE Well. That's-- good for her. I'm happy for her, she deserves that. Stay with her. And keep an eye on this-- "accountant". Woodrue too. I want to know more about this "Project Banana." KLARION Innanna And Johnny? CONSTANTINE Yes, Klarion. Klarion SNATCHES John's leather pouch-- CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) Son-of-a-witch. LUNGES for the blue boy-- But Klarion DISSOLVES into a cloud of flies, John PITCHING FORWARD, into the doors of the wagon-- THEY SWING OPEN: And JOHN FALLS OUT, tumbling headfirst into-- THE WINDSHIELD of a tailing car-- SMASHES IT, BOUNCES over the vehicle's roof, head over heels, and HITS the pavement, hard, SKIDDING like a stone and coming to a sudden HALT. He sits bolt-upright in the center of the road, cars whizzing past him in both directions. Blinks. Dazed. CONSTANTINE (CONT'D) John, old son? (lights a cigarette) You need a drink. SMASH CUT TO: 18. EXT. DOWNTOWN ATLANTA, GA - DAY An aerial view of Atlanta's business district. The sky is an uproar of black, twisted clouds-- strange and unearthly. WOODRUE (V.O.) "Journal entry. Monday morning." JUMP TO: WOODRUE, 30's, stone-faced, bespectacled, sitting stock-still in a Prius , alone, dead-stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. WOODRUE (V.O.) (CONT'D) "I woke with a splitting migraine again today. My heart racing. Dizzy." The car hasn't moved an inch. Woodrue hasn't blinked. WOODRUE (V.O.) (CONT'D) "I don't know if it's the formula that's making me ill, or the agony of yet another day of 'living' in this air-conditioned nightmare." He slowly turns his head, sees: a BEST BUY display window; a BP Oil ad silently playing on a wall of gigantic HDTV screens. WOODRUE (V.O.) (CONT'D) "'Modern society', they call it. 'Civilization.' What is so civilized about stealing our dreams ..." ON TV, fields of grain, a waterfall, a soaring eagle. WOODRUE (V.O.) (CONT'D) "And selling it back to us as entertainment ..." He slowly turns his head elsewhere, sees: a BUSINESS MAN, hunched over a cup of coffee, alone, in a DUNKIN DONUTS. WOODRUE (V.O.) (CONT'D) "What is so 'civilized' about stealing our land ..." The Man nibbles on a bagel, staring in the mid-distance. WOODRUE (V.O.) (CONT'D) "And selling us back its bounty." HOOOOOOOONKK 19. EXT. SUNDERLAND CORPORATION - DAY An iron-and-glass compound, reaching for the stormy sky. Lab- coated SCIENTISTS march in lock-step to the front entrance. WOODRUE (V.O.) "Punch-in. Punch-out." WE FIND WOODRUE, a face in the crowd. WOODRUE (V.O.) (CONT'D) "Work. Consume. Die." INT. SUNDERLAND LAB - LATER Rows and rows of lab-coated SCIENTISTS are hunched over microscopes, working in private cubicles. WOODRUE (V.O.) "How I long for the silence. The calm, the tranquility before the tick-tick-ticking of punch-clocks; before time itself." WE FIND WOODRUE again, hunched over his own microscope. His desk is stacked with botany textbooks, documents, and folders, labelled: "Bio-Restorative Formula", "Photosynthesis Structures", and on top of it all: "PROJECT INNANNA ". WOODRUE (V.O.) (CONT'D) "Little by little, though ..." He looks up from the scope, checks to see if anyone is looking-- No one is. He slowly hikes up his sleeve, revealing: WOODRUE (V.O.) (CONT'D) "I'm transitioning ." His forearm; black, hard, tinted green-- TREE BARK. From a drawer, he pulls out a HYPODERMIC NEEDLE filled with a bright, florescent GREEN formula. He jabs it into the bark, plunging the syringe into his forearm (eyes roll into his head). A tiny black FLOWER BUD suddenly twists up from his forearm-- WOODRUE (V.O.) (CONT'D) "I can communicate with the plants, but, ... I am weak. My intelligence is still too human ..." He PLUCKS the bud, delicately placing it beneath the scope's eye. UNDER THE SCOPE: a network of living, pulsing veins-- IT TURNS ROT-BLACK, a sudden network of diseased veins. (CONTINUED)