6 INT. FIFTH CITY - MARKETPLACE - DAY

Stands selling fabric, foods, and other goods line an arcade, sunlight framing the scene through a glass roof. The CROWD is almost eerily quiet for a place of active commerce, barely more than murmuring as they go about their transactions.

Amongst these is PILATE (32), a gangly dark-haired man whose face is peppered with stubble. He has a ukulele in his hands, and there are glasses on his face: the lenses are scratched quite severely, and he looks over them more than through them. He stands out as unkempt and dusty amid the cleaner, tidier patrons, and a beaten old ukulele is in his hands. He strums, adding some simple and subdued music to the scene as he walks down the arcade. A GUNSHOT echoes through the marketplace, freezing the patrons in shock. He stops playing.

MARIA (28) - a tall, imposing lion of a woman visibly possessed of nobility and untamed will, like a modern Hercules - stands with her right hand in her pocket and her left hand with a SHOTGUN. The PILLAR besides her is marked with damage from her gun. She slowly lowers her left arm. The crowd is silent.

MARIA

Glad we're on the same page.

She snaps her fingers. Pilate sighs, and resumes his song. The energy and spirit that had been interrupted returns. Bubbles of human interaction break up into foam as masked figures produce various FIREARMS. Their clothes are not particularly distinct from those around them in terms of style, but they are more colourful, and their demeanours fit the lively tone of Pilate's song: parlour tricks, sleight of hand, and throwing various items to each other from the stands. The gaggle of THIEVES openly snatch up a huge roll of CARPET, fruits and vegetables, boxes of tobacco, et cetera. Rather than a hold-up or a raid, it feels almost like a street performance as they steal in time with the song and with a tremendous degree of audacity - a flash mob stealing the entire market is a spectacle to behold.

Among the thieves is JOSEPH (22), a somewhat scrawny and underbuilt lad evocative of an aged-up Oliver Twist. He fails to catch a CRATE of fruit. He stumbles and falls on his backside. The crate strikes the ground, splitting in half, spilling its concrete on the pavement. A LIME rolls to the feet of a young girl, who picks it up. Joseph hauls himself to his feet sheepishly as the girl offers it out to him.

JOSEPH

Thanks.

But with his error, the spell is broken around him. A stall owner looms behind him, raising a WOODEN STOOL to strike him. Joseph turns just in time to see it swinging down toward his eyes. It doesn't make it. Maria holds her shotgun out to parry the stool, defending him. Lodging the gun between the legs, she deftly tears it from his grip and flings it high into the air.

In that brief moment, she takes stock. The people around them have caught on that something is wrong, and are far beyond the point of playing this off - they seem to be debating whether or not to step in. The balance now is between riot and panic. Maria chooses panic, squeezing the trigger to shatter the stool as it starts to fall again. Screaming breaks out, patrons begin to flee.

PILATE

(grumbling)

Two and a half minutes, she says.

The thieves manage to blend into the crowd for their escape, Pilate included. Maria lowers her gun and turns to face Joseph.

JOSEPH

Sorry, boss.

The height difference between the two is very apparent as she towers over him, staring with no expression on her face. She knows she doesn't need to show him what she's thinking.

7 EXT. HILL OVERLOOKING THE FIFTH CITY - DAY

The thieves have reconvened. They are quite clearly far fewer in number than they originally appeared in the marketplace. The carpet is spread across the grass. Stolen food and drink are laid out, and the gang all sit themselves down. Pilate crosses his legs and plucks at his ukulele as he tunes it. A smattering of congratulations on a job well done are exchanged, and around half a dozen of them toast with bottled water. One of them is PETER (29), a stocky masculine man whom the ragged appearance of the slums rather becomes.

PETER

(to the others)

Hey, watch this, watch this.

(to Pilate)

Pilate! What the hell are toasts even for, anyway?

PILATE

Poison. You exchange the liquid so that everyone dies.

PETER

(to the others)

See what I mean? This guy knows everything.

PILATE

I also know that it's bullshit. There's no proof that it was ever actually used like that.

Peter, judging by his hearty laughter seems to find this deeply amusing.

PETER

How come you're not in charge, Pilate? You're easily the smartest guy here.

PILATE

We have a perfectly competent leader already. My role is to support her as and when I can.

PETER

Yeah, I guess you can't really beat the great and almighty Maria.

MARIA (O.S.)

Unless you'd like to challenge me for the position, Peter?

Maria has arrived behind him, Joseph in tow. Peter almost spits out a mouthful of water.

PETER

Haha, no way in hell, boss. I was there when you conquered the First City. I'd have better odds squaring up against God.

Maria sits, Joseph taking a seat next to her. Her gaze shifts to the ever-present Tower in the distance.

MARIA

Maybe, if we can make a better showing than today, you'll get the chance.

PETER

(scoffing)

C'mon. There's no way you're actually gonna try to take that thing on. For what? A laugh?

MARIA

You've told worse jokes.

He shrugs in agreement and takes a swig of water.

PILATE

I think it's far too late to be thinking about that with just a few days left until the Last Stars arrive, don't you?

PETER

I never got the problem you guys have with the Last Stars. I mean, if they end a mediocre world, that's a good thing, right? What gives?

Pilate plucks his strings again and finishes his tuning.

PILATE

I can't speak for Maria, but I've never been a religious type myself. When the Last Stars come... I'll make my own decision.

JOSEPH

I don't even know what choice there is to make, honestly... The End will make us perfect. You don't get to choose if that's true, it just... is.

MARIA

Just because you're correct, doesn't mean you're right.

JOSEPH

...What? Yes. It does. By definition.

She says nothing once again, only continuing to look out to the city. The group fade back into what they were doing.

Joseph produces the LIME from his pocket, looking at it dejectedly.

JOSEPH

It's not even a good fruit.

Maria plucks it from his grip and takes a bite out of it through the skin. He looks on in awe and horror. Pilate cringes.

MARIA

What? I'm not gonna let it be for nothing.

JOSEPH

How can you even do that with a straight face?

PILATE

To be fair, I suppose limes taste like shit no matter whether the skin is on or off.

MARIA

I've tasted shit. This tastes like a lime.

Joseph remains visibly intimidated by her display, but Pilate's still-forming music resumes. A faint breeze blows. The gang chats among themselves. Maria, Pilate, and Joseph sit quietly.

An uncommon peace dwells in the scene, a perfect image of people who cannot afford to live with regrets. This moment will become a memory for those within it.

JOSEPH

Maria...

MARIA

Pack it up.

JOSEPH

What?

Sirens are in the air. Maria gets to her feet, turning to the gang.

MARIA

Pack it up!

They need no further instruction. Peter and the others grab what they can and scatter down the hill in all directions. Joseph scrambles to his feet, eyes darting in a panic.

JOSEPH

Already? We just got here!

Pilate hasn't moved an inch.

PILATE

Good grief. They're not wasting any time today, are they?

(to Maria)

You seem to be in a decent mood, so can I leave it to you this time?

MARIA

Today is passable. I've got about twelve guys in me. Six if they're tough. After that, I'm heading home.

JOSEPH

You're going to deal with them all by yourself again?!

MARIA

At some point, you form a routine.

Joseph is silent, gritting his teeth in frustration.

PILATE

Hurry up.

Joseph doesn't stick around to respond, sprinting down the hill to try to keep up with everyone else. Maria leans down, and picks up her SHOTGUN once again.

8 EXT. FIFTH CITY - STREETS - DAY

Joseph catches up with Peter and the others, clearly out of breath. He is the only one having this much trouble as they duck into an alleyway.

JOSEPH

Hold on.

He leans against a large diagonal iron HATCH, struggling to even keep himself steady as he leans on it.

PETER

You ran down a hill, man.

JOSEPH

Anyone would want to die after doing that!

GUNSHOTS. The group falls against the walls, duck behind random objects around the alley for cover. Peter practically tears the hatch open.

PETER

Alright, get in.

JOSEPH

What? No way! Those tunnels get hot enough to melt your flesh off your bones!

PETER

Every hour, on the hour, yeah. So run.

More shots.

JOSEPH

Are you serious?!

Despite the protests, Peter shoves him inside.

PETER

Sorry, runt, but the boss will kill me if I get you in a fight.

JOSEPH

Wait, stop, the airlocks are...!

Peter slams the door, and the floor falls away under Joseph's feet.

9 EXT. HILL OVERLOOKING THE FIFTH CITY - DAY

Somewhere between twenty to thirty armed police officers take positions around Maria. Among them is HEROD (56), a grizzled man with a heavy coat and a cigarette between his lips, along with a peaked cap in a failing attempt to conceal his clearly receding hairline. He takes a long drag on his cigarette, and blows a fairly impressive cloud of smoke.

HEROD

Just you this time? Rubber bullets aren't that expensive, you can bring more bodies.

MARIA

If you're disappointed, you can always come back again another day, old man. But I'm always willing to take you on one-to-one if you want the exercise.

HEROD

You've got five days to go before The End, you know. Couldn't you just leave it?

MARIA

If you'd like to bribe us, officer, we'll accept a one-time donation of cash or a subscription of three square meals per day.

HEROD

You think we don't feed people in jail?

MARIA

Give me a break.

Herod sighs. He takes another drag on his cigarette.

HEROD

Give her hell, I guess.

The officers raise their guns. Maria rushes in, swinging her shotgun like a club.

10 INT. VENT SYSTEM - DAY

Joseph hasn't fallen yet. He clings to the underside of the hatch by its inner handle. He looks down at the abyss he dangles over. He had been expecting a ladder or something, but the only thing separating him from the black void below is the grip of his fingers on the handle. His legs flail in panic as that grip almost immediately begins to fail him.

He slips, falling, and drops several tens of metres into a pool of water. He swims up to the surface, illuminated by the lights on the floor and ceiling of a wide, rhombus-shaped passage a few metres above the water. He wades over to it, climbing up into the passage.The inside is a polished silver, every part akin to a mirror. Joseph hasn't been here before, and he looks around the almost alien architecture in confusion and awe. The water dripping off his body can't cling to the surfaces here, even the floor - it behaves more like mercury. There are walkways up above made from some kind of transparent material, and the lights are just bright white lines reflecting off the floor and ceiling. Joseph holds his hand out over the line - it goes dark both above and below, as if the light only exists in the reflection. He shakes his head and gets moving. He doesn't have time to dwell on this bizarre place. He almost slips on the mirrored floor several times as he runs. A fork in the path comes up after just a few seconds. He slides into an image of his own face as he tries and fails to stop. Identifying the problem, he tears off his wet shoes and socks, and starts running barefoot down the right-hand path.