Friday, April 18, 2014

Comics Scripts: West. Part 2

For once keeping up with my schedule, barely, Here's the next couple of pages of "West" #1. Come to think of it, I should probably come up with an actual name for this story. Maybe later. Actually, if you think of anything, please put it in the comments, since every idea I've had about it has sucked.

Anyway, on with the story!

Page Four

Panel 1: Kearn, still speaking to the arrayed “crowd”

Kearn: I am an investment banker, come by train, stagecoach, and foot, drawn by the rumors of your town, and its potential!

Kearn: A potential too long ignored!

Kearn: A potential that, provided the right encouragement, may well turn Boneview into the jewel of the west!

Panel 2: Chuck and Frank, looking at the commotion. Frank looks puzzled, while Chuck still just looks stoic.

Frank: Huh. I’ll be damned...

Kearn (Off Panel): I am the man willing and able to attempt to make this dream a reality! But I will need all of your help and encouragement for my extensive work to bear fruit!

Panel 3: Closeup on Kearn, who is giving a sweaty but confident smile.

Kearn: I’m afraid I’m rather spent by my journey, but soon enough I will be willing to explain to one and all the intricate financial wizardry that will make this dream a reality!

Kearn: Now, please...

Kearn: Can you direct me to a hotel?

Panel 4: Wide shot of the crowd, now larger and looking taken in by his spiel, but dead silent, leaning on rails and out of windows.

Panel 5: One of them steps forward, a man in a white shirt with an apron and a floppy straw hat (Hub Mitchell), and all around the people start chattering in low voices, whispering excitedly.

whisper (no tail): did you hear? he -

whisper (no tail): - back east, I wonder -

whisper (no tail): did he say he brought -

whisper (no tail): - can’t believe it’s -

Hub: Ah, ah, um, th-that would be m-my establishment, m-mister Kearn!

Panel 6: side view of Kearn doffing his cap, and starting to trundle forward, handing off his backpack to Hub with care, but evidently glad to have it off of him. Hub is bent and subservient.

Hub: ...And, uh, I would be honored if you would make your rest at the, the uh, the Wellspring!

Kearn: That would please me a great deal. I have much work to do. Hold this, would you, Mister...?

Hub: Hub, sir.

whisper (no tail): see how he’s dressed?

Whisper (no tail): -probably filled with -

whisper (no tail): what could he mean by -

Page Five

Panel 1: A view from across the street from the Wellspring hotel, with the silhouette of Stacy Quinn partially visible, leaning against a boardwalk support, but the focus is on Kearn mounting the steps of the hotel, followed by Hub, who is bent under the backpack. The crowd has parted before them like the red sea, if it had been a fairly sparse sea.

Kearn: Hub, you say?

Hub: Oh, uh, y-yes, sir, that is, short for Hubert.

Kearn: Is that a fact.  Well, Hub, I hope that you are ready.

Hub: For w-what, sir?

Kearn: The future, my good man.

Panel 2: Establishing shot of Stacy Quinn, wearing a broad Cheshire grin under half lidded and thoughtful eyes. a plan is rapidly taking shape in her mind, that much is evident.

Kearn (OP): ...the future.

Stacy: mmm.

Panel 3: Pull back from this shot, to include Frank also looking across the street, hand on his hat in a gesture both to scratch his head in puzzlement, and straighten his hat from the commotion. Chuck is facing towards Stacy, who is still looking past them at the Wellspring. The crowd continues to break up around them.

Frank: Well, uh... that’s...

Frank: Quite somethin’. Wouldn’t you say, Chuck?

Chuck: Mebbe so, Sherriff.

Chuck: Stacy. Start roundin’ things down. We’re goin’.

Panel 4: The town viewed at a distance through a spyglass, with their three shapes just barely visible, along with the receding specks of the crowd. This view from the west, the other side of town from where Kearn came in.

Frank: Huh? no, hang on just a second, Chuck, you only just got into town!

Chuck: An’ soon we’re leavin’ again. That against th’ law, Sheriff?

Frank: Well, no, but -

Chuck: Thanks fer th’ conversation. Frank. S’been too long.

Panel 5: extreme closeup on the space between Zeb Smith’s eye and the spyglass. Emphasize grizzled and weathered lines around his eyes, and a meanness to what little features you can see.

Zeb: hh.

Panel 6: Silhouette of the four brothers Smith, framed against the morning sun, taking cover behind a rock. Zeb is crouched low, folding up the spyglass again.

Cooke: Well?

Zeb: It’s somethin’, all right. Commotion. Not rightly sure what it means, yet.

Jeb: Worth checking, Zeb?

Zeb: Maybe so, Jeb.

Page Six

Panel 1: Establishing shot of Kearn’s new room in the Wellspring hotel, a mouldering, dust coated affair, made of dried wood and woven scrubgrass in the many places where real luxury objects have broken down or were never there to begin with. It’s telling that this is the nicest room in the hotel. Kearn is in the foreground, looking around with visible distaste on his face, though he’s facing away from Hub, who is carrying the pack over to the bed.

Hub: Well, he-here it is, the best...

Hub: ...uh, the nicest, our b-best room, I mean. There’s a writing d-desk I can get from downstairs.

Hub: You can, can use it as long as you need for your work, Mister Kearn.

Hub: I know it isn’t... that it’s...

Panel 2: Shot past the pack as Hub thumps it onto the bed, with Kearn turned back to face him with a now confident and pleased look on his face.

Kearn: No need to apologize, my good man! Your idyllic establishment will serve wonderfully - I daresay it’s the most opulent hotel room I’ve seen this side of the Mississippi!

Hub: Uh... uh... thanks, Mister Kearn.

Hub: the p-pack sure is bi- I mean, heavy. What’s - I mean, it - it’s not my place -

Panel 3: Kearn is smiling broader still, a warm, reassuring look, with a hand on Hub’s shoulder.

Kearn: Suffice to say, It’s everything I’ll need to start getting your fair town towards that brighter future.

Kearn: And it all starts right here, my good man.

Hub: uh... uh... uh...

Kearn: Outstanding. Now, fetch me that desk.

Panel 4: Hub is halfway out the door, glancing back over his shoulder, as Kearn sets himself down to start opening up his pack, with a content expression on his face.

Hub: ...Oh, right, of-of course, Mister Kearn!

Hub: uh, I m-might be a few minutes...

Kearn: mm. Take your time, my good man. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.

Panel 5: Kearn looking suspiciously at the closed door

Panel 6: Kearn begins opening his pack, undoing the straps and buckles quickly, with a regretful furrow in his brow.

Kearn: Feh.

Kearn: Low work... LOW WORK.

Panel 7: The pack is open, and we can see into it. There really isn’t much to it, besides one can, a bunch of crumpled documents, a derringer, a stick of dynamite, and enough rocks to give the sense of it having a lot of supplies. Actually, there’s also a small leather bag.

Kearn: How things change...

Panel 8: Kearn is dumping the tiny bag out on the bed - a tiny handful of bills and coins, with a grim expression.

Kearn: ...damn.

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