4. Royal Indiscipline.

MARCH 22, 2013. | 10:23am —

EXT. FOREMAN PARK. STONE BRIDGE. DAY.

Drake Moros:

Bea Larson, twenty-nine years old.

Standing over the cadaver is a bald, chubby Dr Drake Moros, with tan skin, a thuggish feel about him, and soft black eyes.

Nathan peers at the pale corpse, half-covered by a body bag. Revealing Bea's chest, ravaged by sharp rocks from the stream it was found in.

Nathan takes a second to gaze around the surroundings, minutely distracted by the overhang of trees. The steady trickle of the stream grew loud, but he brushes it off. Watching with narrowed eyes, as Officers in their uniforms case the area in their flurry of investigation.

The audible swish and pitter-patter of the torrent move below the old, yet sturdy bridge erected as a landmark at least centuries before their existence. A wide trail carpeted with asphalt and shaded by a large concentration of trees. Lilly-white blooms dip to the ground with the smooth brush of the wind, with a peace disturbed by his intrusion.

Nathan Moya:

Cause of Death?

He peers down at the half-covered body of the woman, a grimace crinkling his forehead.

Her skin pale and wrinkled from being in the river for a few hours. Her eyes wide open, lips parted and thoroughly chapped. A grotesque display that no less agitates Nathan.

By the time he had arrived on the scene, most of the evidence found had been processed. The Medical Examiner, his skilled team of Technicians and Forensic Psychologists, all working towards finding proper evidence to proceed with a case.

Drake Moros:

All indications point to strangulation, the ligature marks on her neck and eyes.

Drake gestures to the faint, but visible blue lines around her throat and eyes.

Drake Moros:

... suggest that whoever strangled her used a smooth material. There aren't any burn marks, so I'm thinking it's something coated with rubber or plastic. Sloppy but, I'm guessing she was in an inebriated state, so it was highly effective.

Nathan Moya:

We'll be filing this under murder I'm presuming.

Drake nods.

Drake Moros:

Doubtless, considering the scratches on her neck. There's blood and skin under her fingernails, but I'm eighty percent certain it's hers. She put up quite a struggle, and in doing so, harmed herself by trying to release herself from whoever did this to her.

—

MARCH 17, 2013. | 1:32am —

EXT. EURO CREEK. BATHURST ISLAND, AUSTRALIA. HIDDEN RESERVE - CABIN. NIGHT.

HALO engages night and heat vision, watching the mercenaries become red figures against the intense brightness of the night-vision in his optics. He unholsters then raises his rifle, and a light sound of metal emanates as he disperses one of the quarter-sized disks. It falls in the centre of the enclosure, and one mercenary looks down. Shining his flashlight on the ground. He sees it, grows alarmed as his head tilts in confusion, but he picks it up and sticks it in his pocket.

Halo Noel:

Countermeasure protocol five-point initiated. Sound and location disk planted.

Halo observes the oblivious mercenaries working in tandem — a tight formation. So practised, Halo is unnerved at the thought of how many times they had completed the routine.

Halo Noel:

How many hostiles?

Calum Beauchamp (On Comms):

Thirteen travelling with the twenty women, three with Ali, and four remaining behind to clear up camp and, I assume, erase all traces of their presence. I've patched into their individual radios, and now reading life signs.

Halo looks down at his gauntlet's screen, seeing sixteen red dots moving away from his position, marked by a green dot on the map. The other four dots loom close-by to Halo, marking the mercenaries that remain behind.

Halo Noel:

The first contact needs to be clean and silent, but prepare yourself. The rifle is loud.

Calum Beauchamp (On Comms):

They are a meticulous and organized group for mere mercenaries.

Halo Noel:

Twelve hundred meters until they are in the EMP field. Ensure you have control of that trawler. We will need it to rendezvous with the extraction team.

Calum Beauchamp (On Comms):

Yes, Your Grace.

Halo disengages the comm and then moves through the trees. He pauses meters away from the enclosure, watching from his cover of darkness. The four moves about the space. Making quick work of bringing down the surrounding forest.

Halo holsters his rifle, and slips two narrow, hidden compartments at his waist, and reveals two daggers. With wide, warped cross-guards, the thin blades glisten in the night. Disappearing as Halo dashes out into the enclosure.

Mercenary Six (In Modern Arabic):

What-. Ahh!!

His piercing yell rips through the quiet of the forest as Halo appears and lands a solid kick to his chest. He staggers back, but Halo finds the exposed skin of his neck and slashes savagely. The man goes down, and Halo turns to his far left, sending both blades sailing through the air. It takes down two more mercenaries and their heavy bodies thud to the ground.

Mercenary Seven (In Modern Arabic):

It's Angel!

Halo dashes forward as the last mercenary trembles, struggling to raise his gun. Halo dips when he reaches the man then performs a heel-hook grapple and snaps the man's neck in one swift movement.

He shoves the man's body away, and stands, panting heavily. He reaches up to his ear I reengage the communication line.

— After spending time in the military, Halo's honourable discharge was not the end of his fight against injustice. After four years deployed, his father convinced him that one tour was enough. To continue, Halo leads a crusade against human trafficking groups worldwide. He could not end them all, but he did his part. Making use of the skills, and his inherent need to set whatever parts of the world he could straight.

— His operation was secretive but approved by a myriad of law enforcement groups across the globe. His work was clean, off-the-record, but in a legal grey area that even he found discomfort in. Though the lives saved was only a means to justify intense actions taken. They dubbed him Angel. A ghost of liberation. But his time in that world ended. His last operation, before assuming his place in Arlingfell was ending Ali Batam's trade finally.

Halo Noel:

The mercenaries at the camp have been neutralized.

Calum Beauchamp (On Comms):

Nice work, Your Grace. You have five minutes to catch up with the larger group.

Halo Noel:

This is the part where you tell me how I do that. I have but small legs, Mr Beauchamp.

Calum chuckles on the line.

Calum Beauchamp (On Comms):

Check your digitizer.

Halo looks down at his gauntlet as the screen comes alight. A topographic image zooms, showing detailed aspects of the forest. A winding road leading south of his position, and a straight line that shows a point of interception. Small, monopoly-like holo-projections of the vehicles move through the terrain at a measured pace. Counting down the seconds till they are out of his window.

Halo Noel:

I thought you said five minutes.

Calum Beauchamp (On Comms):

Five minutes for me. Five minutes for you to intercept and take out the ones carrying the women.

Halo Noel:

And Ali Batam?

Calum Beauchamp (On Comms):

We have him under surveillance with these women. Just one of them is enough to convict. The rest of his charges will stick.

Halo turns south, just inches to his right, and takes off through the forest. Avoiding the wildlife, while zipping through the trees. His muscles burn, but he sees the lights of the vehicles four hundred meters southwest. Approaching the rendezvous point.

Ahead, a cliff-fall appears under the glint of the moon. Halo picks up speed, clearing the forest and the cliff with a downward dive.

Calum Beauchamp (On Comms):

Five seconds till they reach the EMP field. Get ready, Angel.

As Halo free falls, he turns, and from his gauntlet, a spiked grapple ejects. It sails through the air with an almost unseen wire and buries itself into the side of the cliff, latching on. Halo shifts his weight, rappelling alongside the cliff, ahead of the trucks. When he gets close to the ground, he disengages the grapple. And drops into a forward roll on the one-lane road.

He comes to a rolling stop, and stands, poised as he turns. The vehicles turn down the hill, light shining on his darkened figure. His optics dim, and he observes the outline of every breathing soul.

Halo Noel:

Activate the EMP field.

A large white burst explodes three hundred meters out, as shown through his opticulars. The burst of energy knocks out the electrical circuits, pulling all the vehicles to a halt. The militant mercenary that sits beside Ali in the front of the Humvee grabs his AK-47 and climbs out to the front.

Halo Noel (In Modern Arabic):

You will free these women this night.

He glances at them as they gather, but Ali's door slams and the men step aside to let him walk forward.

Ali Batam:

Angel, Angel, Angel. Did you really come alone this time, because last I heard, you died in Sudan?

Halo Noel:

Come on, Batam.

Halo's head moves as he observes each mercenary. He counts only fourteen in his head, but he settles his attention back on Ali.

—

MARCH 17, 2013. | 3:12pm —

INT. SLATER'S MECHANICAL WORKS - BACK ROOM. DAY.

LUCIAN stands in the back room fiddling with a tape dispenser, working the gauges to reset it with a fresh roll. Something clatters outside, and he looks up, suddenly vigilant. He places the device atop the box and stands, wiping his hands. He exits the back room, noticing an older, tattered man.

Digging through the waste container, mouth dry and white from hunger. His clothes are filthy, covered in dirt, grease, and all other manner of dried and greasy fluids.

Lucian Slater:

Hey man, I don't think that's a good idea.

Frightened, the man stumbles over his legs but backs into the waste container after turning and seeing Lucian. He goes tumbling back, and Lucian's eyes widen as he runs forward, stepping over discarded rubbish and plastic bags.

Lucian Slater:

Sir! Are you ok?

He pushes away the waste container, resting both hands on the man's shoulders.

Lucian Slater:

Just relax. I didn't mean to scare you.

He helps the man sit up, but he notices a gash on the side of his head. days old and yellow with abscess leaking, even dried into his hair. Lucian scans the injury, keeping his hands pressed to the man's chest carefully.

Lucian Slater:

Sir? Can you hear me?

Homeless Man:

I-I, I was just hungry. I wasn't stealing, I promise-.

Lucian Slater:

What's your name?

Homeless Man:

B-Barry.

Lucian Slater:

Hey, it's ok, Barry. I reckon you need a decent meal, but right now, let's make sure you're not injured first.

Lucian supports the man's head, stomach burning from his harsh breath. He however diverts his attention to keeping him stabilized.

Lucian Slater:

Don't move, and don't you fall asleep on me. Just... squeeze my hand as hard as you can.

When the homeless man squeezes his fingers, Lucian nods with a smile.

Lucian Slater:

That's good. That's good. Now take careful, slow breaths. I'm going to call an ambulance.

He fishes his phone from his pocket, rapidly dialling the numbers.

Barrington Cruso:

I nee-call my son.

911 Operator:

911, what is your emergency?

Lucian Slater:

I'm at Slater's Mechanical works on 3rd Street, I have a white male, late fifties, falling incident. Spinal injury, a mild concussion. He is partially stabilized, but you need to dispatch an ambulance dispatch fast. This man has a slight fever, and he has evidence of untreated frostbite injuries, a couple of cuts and bruises, first to name is on the right side of his head, clear infection because there's considerable swelling and abscess leaking from it.

911 Operator:

Oh! Well... That is a... incredibly detailed description, sir. A unit is dispatched and is two minutes out. Can you please state the condition of-?

She pauses, then chuckles awkwardly.

Lucian Slater:

I will keep him calm. He says his name is Barry, but that's all I know for now.

911 Operator:

And what is your name, sir?

Lucian Slater:

My name's Lucian, I'm the owner of Slater's. I heard some rustling outside, came out and saw him, but he seemed disoriented for a second after I must have startled him, so he toppled over, so he might also have a stroke, or suffering from some infection that could have reached his brain. There might be decreased motor functions, dizziness.

911 Operator:

Are his eyes dilated?

Lucian Slater:

His arms are exposed, his teeth are a little yellow, but there's no sign of drug use, present or before this. This man is...

He pauses, eyes narrowing when he sees the dog tag.

Lucian Slater:

... just another homeless veteran.

Lucian sucks in a heavy breath and peers down at Barry. The man glances up at him like a newborn baby. Eyes darting across his face, lips wobbling slightly, chapped, and split in over one place.

911 Operator:

Are you certain?

Before he answers, Lucian hears the blare of the sirens. He looks up and down the wide alleyway, littered with large and small waste containers and the wares from other businesses in the district.

After giving his account, Lucian stands by with a young African American paramedic.

Paramedic Lyle Heller:

Your call to emergency services was interesting.

The man grins at Lucian, but his distracted gaze stays unmoving on Barry.

Paramedic Lyle Heller:

Are you ok? You seem a little rattled.

Lucian Slater:

I'm... fine. I'm good, just a little annoyed. The guy's a veteran.

Lyle nods with a wry smile.

Paramedic Lyle Heller:

Unbelievably, we get at least two of these guys in. Most of them on drugs, and some violent while on drugs.

Lucian Slater:

Was he...?

He bobs his head, and Lyle shakes his in response.

Paramedic Lyle Heller:

No. No drugs. Dispatch says people have been looking for this one for a while. He's not an addict, just early-onset dementia.

Lucian Slater:

He remembers his name. I think it's schizophrenia.

The paramedic eyes Lucian then narrows his gaze as he ponders it himself.

Paramedic Lyle Heller:

He remembers his nickname, at least but, you might be right.

The man pats Lucian's shoulder, then turns to leave. After a few steps, he stops and turns back to Lucian.

Paramedic Lyle Heller:

Hey, I know it's not policy, but you could ride with him to the hospital.

Lucian Slater:

No, that's fine. I have to get home, but I can visit him at the hospital.

Lyle nods then turns to leave. Lucian sighs, but a figure appears behind him. He steps from the shadow of the back door, revealing Nathan Moya.

Lucian turns, pausing in step when he sees the man.

Nathan Moya:

Lucian Slater.

Lucian Slater:

Yes?

Nathan Moya:

I'm Detective Nathan Moya.

Lucian Slater:

Is... that supposed to mean something to me?

His question prompts an amused chuckle out of Nathan, but Lucian frowns.

Lucian Slater:

To avoid having to continue talking to you; the guy was rifling through my rubbish; I came out; he got spooked and toppled over. I called emergency services, and that's that.

Nathan Moya:

I'm not here for him. I'm here to speak to you about Bea Larson reporting that you stole from her.

He smiles wryly.

Lucian Slater:

I did not know Chuck would've taken that job behind my back, but he sure as hell didn't confide in me, and he didn't do it here.

Nathan Moya:

And you have no partnership with him on this specific project slash job?

Lucian pales, stepping back as his head spins in all directions.

Lucian Slater:

... What?

—

MARCH 17, 2013. | 1:39 am —

EXT. EURO CREEK. BATHURST ISLAND, AUSTRALIA. HIDDEN RESERVE - CABIN. NIGHT.

Halo Noel:

I cannot die until you are behind bars for your crimes.

Ali Batam:

It's been a year, and you've only crippled a percentage of my operation. What makes you think you can stop me now?

Halo Noel (In Modern Arabic):

Because persistence against evil is a fight of patience. I have learned your ways. Each protocol you have implemented.

As he speaks, Ali shifts uncomfortably where he stands, glaring at Halo, or rather Angel, incredulously. He then laughs, and his goons join in though it is scattered. The giggles become laughter, and their naïve sense of confidence becomes clear.

Halo Noel:

Tonight, it all ends.

Ali Batam:

And if I kill the girls?

Calum Beauchamp (On Comms):

Gaining targets, Your Grace.

Halo counts again when the sixteenth mercenary shows himself.

Ali Batam:

If you wish to end my operation, then my life must end to tip the scales in your favour. Because my friends will come for you.

Halo Noel:

As of this moment, Markan Balis, Viseme Liran, and Nocchi Sanvida are being detained.

Ali looks over at the mercenary beside him and nods.

Halo Noel:

You underestimated Jamaica.

Ali Batam:

What do you know of Jamaica?

Halo Noel:

I know you were at Reid Village Jerk Center. Not to add another girl to your list of thousands, but you could not resist.

Ali's face twists with fury, and he gestures for his goons to get into attack formation.

Halo Noel:

Take their weapons.

Ali Batam:

What are you-?

He is silenced when an electrical charge goes through each rifle. Forcing the mercenaries to discard them. Halo pulls out a black, inconspicuous cylinder, about two inches wide. He clicks both ends, and it extends, exiting a blue line that runs along its length beautifully in the night.

Halo dashes forward, his dark suit a menacing picture against the bright glare of lights. Mercenaries brandish their cutlasses, and makeshift weapons from thick, mossy branches strewn about. Halo takes out the first mercenary, spins back to dodge a swing from the second by performing a sideways kick. The mercenary doubles over, and Halo rolls over his back, kicking another as he attacks. He swings the staff, meeting the blade of cutlasses when he dips backward, taking down three assailants simultaneously.

Ali Batam (In Modern Arabic):

Send for reinforcements!

Halo spots Ali combing through his men to approach the truck. He scatters, taking cover, shoving his lackeys, prompting them to attack. Halo dutifully positions the staff and sends it sailing through the air like a javelin. It clunks against Ali's head, returning to the narrow cylinder as he falls.

Halo turns, dodging the swing of a machete, and a simple, black staff by turning his body into an opposite arc. The weapons hit the ground, and Halo lifts his leg high, then brings it down atop the mercenary now on his right. In one swift movement, he pulls out his pistols and their tips glow blue as candescent projectiles fly.

He takes down the one on his right and dips to fire off four more shots that don't miss their targets. Halo dives to the front of the Humvee, rolling up to press his back against it as the remaining five mercenaries scatter. He drops to his left, taking down two more with accurate and swift shots.

Halo moves against the side of the truck, gun raised. Another assailant emerges from the back, too close for him to fire. Halo dislodges the man's rifle, holsters his own, and performs a flying kick. A stunning display of his acrobatic grace, which sends the mercenary hurtling back.

Halo aims his pistols, cocking them as he turns around the back. He takes out the two soldiers staring off to the right side and pulls out the last as he pokes his head out from the truck's tarpaulin cover.

The mercenary's body thuds to the ground, and Halo shoots him square through the neck. A gun cocks, and a bullet fires, nicking Halo just below the right shoulder. A searing flesh wound.

Ali Batam:

I am going to kill you! I will-Ahhhhhh!

His words are cut off as the echo of a bullet resounds around them. Ali screams when it goes through his left shoulder in one clean shot that sends him collapsing to the ground. Birds fly from the trees, and the skitter of terrified wild animals chorus across the forest floor.

Halo looks up, seeing a dark figure descend under a parachute that casts a dark shadow on the ground. The figure falls, dislodging the parachute and performing a diving roll. He rises to reveal Calum Beauchamp, in defensive mode, a pistol cocked at Ali's writhing figure.

Halo Noel:

This was your big entrance?

Calum Beauchamp:

I have a flair for the dramatic, Your Grace.

Halo smiles under his mask, but he looks up as the muffled sound of the captive women catches his attention. He pulls away the tarp to reveal the huddled and frightened women inside. Staring at him in terror and newfound fear, but he raises his hands and pulls off his mask.

Halo Noel:

You need not worry anymore. You are all safe now.

He looks around at the frightened faces, eyes glinting in relief when he sees Sashawna Reid. The reason he could catch up to Ali Batam.

Halo Noel:

Sashawna Reid?

She looks up with frightened eyes and climbs into the van to walk over to her. He crouches and pulls a small, rectangular device from his boot. She leans back with a sharp, airy gasp, but he raises his free hand, showing her a picture of Neville and her. All smiles at her graduation in her velvety red gown and yellow sash while her brother stands beside her in a crisp, white suit.

Halo Noel:

I promise you are safe. Neville will be happy to see you.

Sashawna Reid:

Him send you?

Halo nods then smiles as he walks back to the end of the truck.

Halo Noel:

Who else speaks English?

Most of their hands go up, and he makes a headcount. His gaze darkens, and Sashawna looks up at his worried gaze.

Sashawna Reid:

If you lookin for the girl wid di red hair, she dead.

Sashawna frowns and Halo lets out a languorous sigh. He nods, then hops from the back of the truck. The sound of loud engines breaks through the forest's vastness, and soon they are surrounded by men dressed in the same armoured attire as Calum.

Calum Beauchamp:

Australian Authorities are on the way to escort Ali Batam into custody. How are our girls, Your Grace?

Halo faces Calum as he approaches, nodding with a bitter smile.

Halo turns to face the man, and he sighs.

Halo Noel:

Astrid Legolas is deceased. All other nineteen present and safe.

Calum sighs, then squeezes his left shoulder affectionately.

Calum Beauchamp:

The trawler awaits your arrival. Transport from now on is secure.

Halo Noel:

Ensure they recover Astrid's body. Her family deserves to give her a proper funeral.

MARCH 18, 2013 | 6:53am —

INT. ARLAN ISLAND. ARLINGFELL. AR-GUARD CABIN. DAY.

In the lounge-like cabin, Halo sits in a circular space, lowered by two flights of carpeted stairs. The plane's cabin is unlike typical passenger aircraft. Decked out with lavish, modern decor that punctuates the futuristic design of machinery made to provide protection during air travel for the royal family.

A setup of glass separates Operation from the private lounge. At each side of the wide glass doors, two guards, clad in dark suits, stand. Agents, bodyguards, and other important personnel and attendants move about. Hard at work, sending in reports, and confirming coordinates and protection protocols.

— His purpose for flying in the official aircraft of Arlingfell was obvious, but very few knew Halo Noel's true identity.

— His operation to liberate people from traffickers, arose from a fascination with crime shows. Yet nobody spoke of the numbers in real life. The tragedy and scars left on women, men, and children after being put through trauma. Torn away from their families and friends. Their lives, even the insignificant, ripped out of their arms.

The glass door slides open, and Calum Beauchamp enters. He wears a typical black suit, with no other redeeming quality but his fiery red hair coiffed in a neat pompadour atop his crown.

Calum Beauchamp:

Your Grace, we touch down in eighteen-point-five minutes. The escorting convoy will meet us on the airstrip to avoid revealing your brief return.

Halo Noel:

Has a meeting with my father been finalized? I have but five hours before my flight back to Boston. Have the private jet prepared for the trip.

Calum nods.

Calum Beauchamp:

Of course, Your Grace. Should I plan my return as well?

Halo looks up at Calum and smiles at the man.

Halo Noel:

Did you like teaching?

Calum smiles coyly and straightens his composure.

Calum Beauchamp:

I don't understand the question, Your Grace.

Halo Noel:

Have a seat, Mr Beauchamp.

He beckons to the seat before him, and Calum bows before sliding into it tentatively.

Halo Noel:

I am asking you this question because my retirement is finalized in a month. Are you sure you want to run control as a fourth-grade teacher?

Calum chuckles nervously and shifts in his seat.

Halo Noel:

Because you might be on the shortlist for the Deputy Head of Security for Arlan House.

Calum looks up with surprise in his eyes.

Calum Beauchamp:

Your Grace, I have only been-.

Halo Noel:

Head of Security of the US-based Arlan House?

Calum Beauchamp:

But, Your Grace, you will be Head of State. Advisor to the Regent Monarch.

Halo sighs and leans back.

Halo Noel:

Then you have a decision to make, Mr Beauchamp. Expect a call from the Arlan Guard.

Calum nods, but Halo glances at him expectantly.

Halo Noel:

You are dismissed, Mr Beauchamp.

The man hurriedly rises and leaves the lounge after nodding to his subordinates. Halo leans back, glancing out the cabin windows.

Below, the sprawling city of Arlan, the capital city of Arlingfell, dazzles beautifully. The city is built off the west coast of Arlingfell. A technological curiosity, with an advanced cityscape and skyline packed with distinct skyscrapers. Modern and retro, with Arlan House glimmering like a monument in the dead centre of the city.

From his position in the sky, Halo sees the symmetric outline of the coastal island with rolling, green hills, littered with residential areas and estates belonging to the diplomatic and the wealthy. At the very back of the island, a stunning, high castle sits on a hill, its rear a lush, silver-scape of River Arlan and its rushing waters that empties into the glimmering blue of Haven Sea.

—

Following the most covert of safety protocols, Halo finally settles into a lavish lounge less than an hour later. It sits at the south of Arlan House, looking out onto the white, sandy shores. The South Pacific glares in the distance. An opulent picture of the sun glinting off the surface and dimming behind the spires of the castle.

The two grand, ornate doors behind Halo swings open, and in sweeps Karim. Studiously dressed in his traditional garbs. On top of a simple white shirt, he wears a trendy vest with five golden buttons. They bear the insignia of the sword and the lion--the mark of the monarch. Around his lapels, and right side, his medals are displayed glaringly.

Karim Abdel:

Ali Batam is currently being processed and will be punished for his crimes.

Halo smiles, but he glances back out at the ocean.

Halo Noel:

One girl died.

Karim sighs and walks up to Halo. He softly kisses Halo's left temple, squeezing him around the shoulder affectionately.

Karim Abdel:

I'm sorry, my boy.

Halo Noel:

Did Ali give us anything?

Karim Abdel:

The entire operation.

Halo's eyes widen, and his lips crack into a smile.

Halo Noel:

So, they're finished?

Karim nods.

Karim Abdel:

There is still much cleaning up left to do. I suspect you are here for other reasons than to attach yourself to a closed case.

Halo sighs, then walks to the centre of the room. Karim joins him in the setup of plush, white leather couches and they sit side-by-side in silence, but Karim breaks it with a grunt and a sigh.

Karim Abdel:

Talk to me, Halo.

Halo Noel:

Some are afraid to go home.

Karim Abdel:

They are still in Arlingfell. Why not give the ones afraid the option for asylum?

Halo Noel:

I want it to be specific to their needs. These women were traumatized. Some even joined this expedition, looking for a way out. We need a new protocol. Something that offers help immediately instead of a five-year wait.

Karim Abdel:

Ok.

Halo glances at his father, expressionless, but surprised.

Karim Abdel:

It will be done.

Halo decides not to protest or question his father's eagerness to help.

— Karim Abdel was a stand-up father. A constant presence in the life of his only child, from birth to present. He coddled Halo where it was necessary. The same went for every other facet of parenthood which he'd done seamlessly for years, even after losing Halo's mother. He nurtured a relationship of trust, and a friendship unbound by secrets and anything short of support.

Halo Noel:

I missed my father.

Karim Abdel:

Then I am certain he missed you as well.

Karim places a gentle hand on Halo's left shoulder.

Karim Abdel:

I anticipate you moving back home. It will be good to not have to get in one of those flying deathtraps they call an aircraft every time I want to see you.

Halo Noel:

Just three more weeks, father. I go back to the US in three hours. There is still much planning to do for the school trip.

Karim Abdel:

I hate that you must leave again so soon. My short trip was very exciting, though.

Karim sighs, but he smiles at Halo.

Halo moves toward the man and hugs his towering frame. Karim looks down at him with a warm smile.

Karim Abdel:

It is a father's greatest pride to hug his very grown son like this.

He embraces Halo back, then pulls away, arms firmly clasped on his shoulders.

Halo Noel:

What about lunch? We have time.

Karim smiles and exclaims with a bright grin.

Karim Abdel:

Yay!

He feigns childish excitement, and Halo rolls his eyes, but he smiles. Blushing deeply at the look in the man's eyes that reminds him of warmth and his expedient fatherhood.

Karim Abdel:

Lucinio's?

Halo Noel:

Ooh! I miss their empanadas.

MARCH 23, 2013 | 4:43pm —

INT. CAROL LANE DRIVE. LIO RESIDENCE - LIVING ROOM. DAY.

JESSIE LIO sits with a bubbly, adorable one-year-old with a matching pair of brown eyes. He fixes his plain blue onesie as the boy gurgles noisily as he grabs at Jessie's face.

Jessie looks up when the muffled voices of his mother and a man fill the house. A door slams, and in walks a gangly, angry Caucasian man. He wears a dirty tank top and ripped denim jeans a few years too young for him. Even his ridiculous ponytail casts a shadow of self-neglect.

Trampling behind him is Jessie's mother. A petite, beautiful, but tired-looking Korean woman in her early thirties.

Chai Jin-Lio:

I promise I'll have the money soon. We just have to-.

She stops when he whirls on her, grabbing her right wrist. It prompts a pained grunt from the woman and she attempts to pull it back.

Kane Trudeau:

Do you understand the shit I'm in because of your lousy ass kids?

Jessie looks up, just as his mother looks his way with sombre but accusing eyes. She sniffles lightly, grabbing at his hand to pry it loose.

Chai Jin-Lio:

What was I supposed to do, not pay their school fees?!

Before she can blink, he rips her hand downward, bringing down his free hand. It swipes across her face, and she yells in pain as she falls to her knees.

Jessie Lio:

Leave her alone!

Jessie stands, fists clenched as his little face twists into an angry frown. Kane looks up, but he simply growls and lifts his hand again. Without hesitation, Jessie yells out as he runs at the man.

Jessie Lio:

Leave her alone!

Jessie grabs the man's hand, shaking it as he squeezes the hardest his small hands allow.

Kane Trudeau:

Let go, stupid kid!

He swipes his hand, and Jessie gets flung to the side. Yelling out in pain when his left rib cage collides with the centre table. He goes down hard, head pounding as pain shoots through his body.

Kane lets his mother go and walks over to Jessie.

Chai Jin-Lio:

No!

She runs after the man on weak legs, but he swats her aside. Jessie's eyes roll back in his head, but all he feels is a sharp pain in his injured rib cage. Knocking the wind from his lungs, sending him into darkness.

—

Jessie awakes minutes later, jolted upright by the sound of Ryu, his baby brother, shrieking. Jessie's eyes flutter, pain shooting through him like a thousand sharp needles in his torso.

He groans, clutching his forehead, but he slowly and carefully climbs to his feet. Navigating the clutter in the living room from his mother and Kane's fight. One that seemed to have persisted after he lost consciousness.

Jessie staggers over to Ryu, who is on all fours before the biggest couch in the L-shaped setup. Eyes and face red as tears stream from his eyes, mouth open as he cries out in apathy. The TV blares on with a violent, gory movie, and Jessie shakes his head and grabs the remote. Ryu's cries then fill the living room, and Jessie groans in pain.

He gathers the boy in his arms, wincing when Ryu's legs kick out at his chest.

In the next room, Chai sits at the edge of her bed, tears streaming down her face. The sound of Ryu crying, tearing through her brain like a thousand trumpets. She lets loose a growl and rises with her teeth clenched. She walks out of the room, seeing Jessie cradling Ryu.

Chai Jin-Lio (In Modern Korean):

Shut him up!

Her scream makes Jessie jump, but he holds Ryu closer. Eyes closing as fresh tears stream down his cheeks. He holds his sob in, chest heaving in fear and pain. Chai walks back to her room and slams the door shut.

Jessie Lio (Whispering):

It's ok, buddy. It's ok.

Jessie rocks Ryu, keeping him nestled in his arms. He sighs in relief when the boy calms down and rises with a pained grunt.

—