The Retreat

HELLSTAR-4 EXT. CH-6-FAC-4 ROOF - NIGHT Laughlin and Hampton crouch low behind some unidentifiable rooftop debris atop the factory node adjacent to CH-6-FAC-3 and at an angle to RES-2 where the Hungry mercenaries are making their way through. Both are wearing tactical black, though DETEC is in broad white letters across their shoulders. Neither has a gun in hand, though the pistols on their hips seem to be larger than one would expect for service size. Hampton has a banged-about-looking SMG slung on his back, dangling like a messenger bag. Laughlin, adjustable binoc projector held high, scans the rooftops and walls. SY HAMPTON I hope to seven shades that this isn't what we think it is, Laughlin. That would be bad. DEREK LAUGHLIN And by that you mean "a lot of people will die," right? SY HAMPTON I mean a lot of people will be stuck doing a lot of paperwork, and by "a lot of people" I mean me. Nuclear warheads always take so much paper

REACH-3 EXT. ABOVE WISDOM FOUNDRY - DAY If the Foundry had looked more like a mideval guildhall before, not it resembles nothing so much as a clockwork piece of Brutalism. The grounds stretch more than the size of the small village it started within, easily a mile or more on a side. It slopes as it rises from well-tended stone streets, a series of buildings built of white marble-like stones, cogs and belts and other less namable things protruding out at need. The center building is the largest, five city blocks and spreading. The white walls punch upwards for tens of floors, a truncated pyramid. The center still retains an opening, a shaft dropped through the bulding within. It reeks of volcano with its lowered floor of lava or the top of a Rook's piece. INT. WISDOM FOUNDRY BUILDING 5, FLOOR 1, HALLWAY It bustles. Men and women going about work or schooling, dressed in recognizably quality and functional casual clothing are everywhere. From appearances, the tech le