Read Online Clockwork Angels: Comic Script by Kevin J. Anderson - Free Book Online

looks more at ease than he does.
    FRANCESCA
    Come to join me, Owen Hardy?
    OWEN
    I … I brought you some water.
    PANEL 3
    Francesca has a devilish, seductive smile on her face as she reaches out a hand and beckons. She hasn’t moved a step closer to him.
    FRANCESCA
    Come on then … bring it to me.
    PANEL 4
    Extremely nervous, Owen tentatively puts a foot on the rope, keeping his other foot on the stable platform.
    PANEL 5
    Small panel, close-up of Francesca.
    FRANCESCA
    I’ll make it worth your while …
    PANEL 6
    Small panel, close-up of Owen’s foot on the rope.
    PANEL 7
    Owen sways back on the small platform. He is very embarrassed. Francesca can be out of the panel.
    OWEN
    I can’t …
    FRANCESCA
    Maybe next time …
    PAGE 9
    PANEL 1
    Dusk, at camp. The crowds are gone; Tomio’s trailer, a hodgepodge laboratory and residence. Wisps of nasty-looking green-brown smoke curl up from the window of Tomio’s trailer, as well as a bright flash of light. From the crooked chimney/air vent in the roof, an entirely different smoke wafts out, this one lavender.
    SFX
    THHHHHWUMMMMP
    PANEL 2
    In the middle of their chores (setting up, cooking, practicing games, everyday stuff) the other carnies look up, undisturbed, some looking annoyed (“Not again…”). Owen is the only one who seems alarmed as he dashes toward the trailer. Louisa and Golson the strongman are standing nearby, not terribly impressed. Golson’s nose is wrinkled in distaste.
    OWEN
    That’s Tomio’s trailer!
    LOUISA
    He’s at it again with those experiments of his.
    GOLSON
    This one smells worse than they usually do …
    PANEL 3
    Big panel. Owen has flung open the door and stands at the threshold, but the main focus of the panel is the interior of Tomio’s trailer, an alchemy lab and a library, all kinds of pots and beakers spread out on the table, bookshelves filled with impressive-looking tomes on the wall. Tomio looks singed, rumpled, and flustered. But the really cool thing is that the air is full of ethereal bright flame sprites, like small fiery hummingbird elementals flitting about.
    OWEN
    Tomio! What happened? Are you all right?
    TOMIO
    Well, it worked …
    TOMIO
    Sometimes I don’t know as much about alchemy as I think. But sometimes I do.
    PANEL 4
    Tomio pulls a thick leatherbound volume from his shelf (we only see the spine, not the front) while Owen swats at a pesky fire sprite.
    TOMIO
    There’s still plenty to discover. I went to the Alchemy College, but didn’t fit in.
    TOMIO
    I even had an apprentice here at the carnival …
    PANEL 5
    Close-up of Tomio; he looks grave, disturbed. There is a smudge/singe on one side of his face.
    TOMIO
    D’Angelo Misterioso  … The Mysterious Angel. Too impulsive. Too ambitious. Too unsteady.
    TOMIO
    I had to make him leave. It was … unpleasant.
    PANEL 6
    Tomio places the book down on his workbench. (Panel focuses in on only the book; not much other background is necessary.) On the cover is embossed the alchemical symbol for PRECIPITATE, the Anarchist’s symbol with stacked dots inside an open square. The reader will recognize this from the tattoo on his hand.
    TOMIO (OFF PANEL)
    He was dangerous then. He is worse now.
    PAGE 10
    PANEL 1
    It’s dark outside. Owen crouches beside the red-enameled side of the gypsy fortune-teller’s booth. He is turning the wind-up key in the side.
    PANEL 2
    Small panel. Inside the booth, the fortune-teller’s gnarled, ringed hand whirrs and twitches over her spread-out tarot cards. (If you show any of the cards, use drawings from inside the Vapor Trails lyrics booklet. I can provide scans if you need them, Nick.)
    SFX
    Whhrrrrrrrrrr
    PANEL 3
    Owen sits back, hunkering down with his back to us, gazing up at the glass window that now illuminates the old fortune teller; he looks like a kid entranced by a TV.
    OWEN
    I know you’re alive in there … really alive. Francesca even told me you’re her great-great grandmother.
    PANEL 4
    Fortune teller in her box.