Monday, October 17, 2016

PILOT/SEASON 1. Episode one 2020 AC/DC

She didn't know what she was. . .

Mars, An Underground laboratory, 1959(in Earth years). The beginning of the end of a Civil War.

His bright blue eyes beheld his creation, fresh from the grave. What he had done was against the law, but he had done this as a way to ensure the survival of his blood and kingdom. His blood ran through her veins and as he carefully put her into the flight capsule he soothed her light red hair, smiled at the gaze of her ice blue eyes, the effect of such a blue wouldn't last for long, a side affect of the life serum.

He dialed the controls, setting her landing coordinates for a place on Earth. The Spiders, the law holding house of the planet, in their endless desire for more more more, were again attacking him and his kingdom. Only this time, they had unlocked a dark Martian magic that allowed them to resurrect the dead for their armies.

He had broken the law, which his own Law Holders would surely imprison him for, despite the fact that they themselves had also broken the law by their undead army. His lab, castle and kingdom were failing the siege they had held for so long. Civil war was here and in the face of it he had hoped to create the future. The Spiders were here, they had come for him, and her. This king, with his one dark blue eye and his one light blue eye, wouldn't let them have Her.

He heard the doors and glass shatter as they stormed his laboratory. He set the landing mode to earth and looked through the icy glass coffin of his creation. She was the future, she was hope for his planet. Maybe someday she would understand her purpose and come back to him. But for now, he pushed the red button and the launch commenced, it was for their future. He watched the capsule blast into space as the Spiders broke down the lab door and pointed their spears and swords at him. He fell to his knees as he was incarcerated.

“Where is it going?!” The Lead Spider shouted at him. A man named Baron Wylde. “Where are you sending it?!” He looked up at the capsule at it flew away from them, beyond their reach into space, his glossy red eyes glaring up at the fading abomination.

The man smiled, he didn't care what sort of punishment they held over him. “It does not matter. You have failed. SHE, is far out of your reach.”

Baron snapped his fingers. “Kilmister! Front and center!”

A man came out of the crowd as ice particles rained down from the departing capsule. Kilmister was a pale man with large facial moles, black coarse hair and silver eyes. He wore all black, unlike the red of the Martian soldiers. He was a bounty hunter and was his most famous attribute was the cigarette always on his lips.

“This man is the greatest hunter in all of Mars.” Baron leaned in close as the former King looked up at him. “No matter where you send her, no matter who protects her, no matter where She runs,” he used heavy sarcasm on the words she. “My Kilmister will find her and he will kill her.” He stood up and turned to the hunter. “Go now, while the trail is still hot. Resurrect the drone planes and track her across the galaxy if you have to.”

Kilmister was staring at the King the whole time Baron was speaking. Silver eyes met blue eyes and the blue one were begging him to spare her. Kilmister nodded and left.

“Sir, those ships are hundreds of years old. Will they even work?” the second in command asked.

“Kilmister can fix anything. He can go anywhere, fix anything and if he can't, no one can. I have faith in him.” Baron over saw the arrest of the former Martian King. His spy would effectively follow and end the abomination the king had created.


Another Spider stepped forward, dressed in Spider red but he was more of an official than a warrior. Tall and lean with slicked red gold hair and dark wine red eyes. “Place him under house arrest until we find and return the creation. No other sentence shall be carried out until then.”

Baron became livid. “He has broken the law and lost the war! He is no longer king!”

“He is still the king!” Rickshaw was a prominent leader who held more power over the people than Baron Wylde. “He will remain under house arrest until the creature is returned and in the meanwhile, a Spider shall be named King Regent.” He leaned in close to the Baron, grabbing his arm, unafraid. “Need I remind you of the laws you broke to get here.”

No longer in favor of the king due to the occupation of Spiders, he wasn't in favor of the Baron either. He let go and walked after the King. He oversaw that the Law was followed and obeyed above all else and above all selfish endeavors, this was the king the people knew and if he was executed, there would be chaos. He had no power to stop the Baron, but he had the power to prevent him from killing the last Star King. Without any more argument, they left the laboratory and set it on fire along with the manor it was attached to.

The King looked towards the night sky, hope in his blue eyes.


*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*


She opened her eyes and stared into the black abyss above her. It was speckled with white, she drifted through the stars peacefully. She had no idea how to explain the sensation she felt while drifting. Her eyes opened and closed carefully. She reached up and was surprised when her hand was stopped by the see through wall above her. She looked at her hand and the fine hairs on her knuckles jumped out at her in detailed relief, so did the stars beyond the window. She watched the red planet disappear behind her, at her feet. When her head tilted back and up to see where she was going, she saw another orb approaching

A Blue planet, that appeared green the closer it got. She faced back to the black abyss and floated on.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Earth, the deserts outside of Holy Wood. 1959 CR (Cult Rule)

In the desert, far outside the cities, in unclaimed territory, He watched. He was wandering the desert as he often did. Singing and drinking, hoping to tame the restless spirits in his soul. He swigged on his whiskey and snarled at the burn in his ears. He stumbled and sang and looked up to the sky. When his whiskey was gone he threw the bottle and it landed with a smash, he had more. He was a handsome man, a Shaman.

He was a Roman-esque king. His profile boasted planes of honest expressions, the Roman nose, the sculpted lips, the deep set eyes blue as ice that stared deep into you. His brown hair was wavy and brushed his shoulders. He wore his filthy, smelly leather pants and held a denim jacket over one shoulder, his black shirt tucked in a back pocket.

He was a king, but an absent king. Right now his religious advisers-the BOC, Blue Order Cult- were holding down what he had inherited, what he had never wanted but had to take care of. To escape the pressure he wandered the desert alone, often. Tonight would be the night to change his world though, to relieve the pressure he felt. Something broke the sky and he had to look up. For the first time in five hundred years, an object on fire fell from the heavens. He watched.



                                                                  ***^^^***

The capsule plummeted to earth and landed in a mighty, thundering, crash! A ball of fire hurtling to the ground as seen from afar. Earth and dirt flew for miles in any direction, the crater came to be forty feet deep. Fire littered the ground around the crash sight where broken parts of ship were laying. Nothing appeared to have lived, until a hand reached out from the smoke. A figure crawled out of the raging fire, nude and alone. Covered in soot and dirt they clawed out of the depths of hell and gasped for breath on this strange new terrain.

It was a woman by the breasts she sported and clump of hair between her legs, shielding her from indecency. But she didn't know what decency even was. She walked away from the crash sight, not knowing where she was, who or what she was, and walked further into the desert. It was night when she came and it was night still when she fell to the ground, exhausted, dying of thirst. She lay on the ground until a shadow passed over her and placed his coat over her shoulders. She woke up and looked into the face of a blue eyed man, the first earth man she ever met.

He helped her up, gave her whiskey, and led her to the horizon where distant lights shone. Very distant. HE took her by the hand, and made her walk for days and nights beside him, which she did without word and without question. Living on a strict diet of whiskey did her little good until they came to the edges of his kingdom, tumbling out of dry brush, she found a stream and they followed it, drinking from it, naked as children. He led her to the beaches not far beyond, and then vanished from her side. She woke up in the morning alone on the sand, a pair of denim pants and his denim jacket on the sand beside her.

As she had seen him do, she put them on herself and looked to the west, though she didn't know it was West. She went and followed the lights until she climbed a hill to the very top. When she crested and looked over the valley below, she saw lights, a narrow road winding through the bustling village was bursting with lights. Blaring horns and the clacking of hooves. She shied away from the bustle and hustle and crept along the darker edges of town.

She eventually came upon a darkened house in the middle of a big lush field during the night, following a dirt road to it. Tired and full of the apples that grew along the road, she lay on the porch under the ripe moon and closed her eyes.


The people of the house were well surprised, as you can imagine, to find her on their porch that next morning. A dirty heathen with gold hair and glowing honey maroon eyes, dressed in denim and barefoot, she didn't even know a word. A family of intense high nobility lived there and they took it upon themselves to harbor and raise her. Lord and Lady Blackmoore had no living children, all had died before adulthood, and this poor child of fifteen or sixteen had no family or even a name. The Blackmoores were a dark haired, raven eyed and pale skinned peoples, their blood was bluer than even the lords and ladies of the castle, they called themselves blackbloods. The two took her in and made her their child. By 1960, a year later, they had named her Star. Star Dust Blackmoore the first, Heir of Blackmoore Manor.



                                                                ***^^^***

Earth, local Holy Wood Jailhouse and Courtroom, 2020 AC/DC 61 years later.....

Star Dust and a girl who was taller than her left the jailhouse. Star Dust was older, tall, lean, sharp cheeks and glowing honey eyes, in her thirties. The other girl was younger, in her mid twenties, and bore a slight resemblance to Star in the face, but she also bore a roman-esque profile. Her nose, it was that of her father, with a feminine touch. But the girl was a warrior, a fighter, dressed for battle with her black clothes and boots on, she was a lady but no feminine. Her long brown hair tied in a braid down her back, her eyes a darkened blue.

“Mother, did you Have to fuck that girl last night? The BOC is really on your fucking dumb ass for the lab cluster fuck. You shouldn't be fucking teenagers.” She was irritated.

Star grinned. “She told me she was eighteen, how could I know she was really sixteen?”

“Mum that's not the point. I don't care who or what you take to bed. Even if they are the same age as your grandchild!”

“Oh I see," The older woman said, grinning, reading between the line. "You're upset about my little boy.”

“Well no fucking shit I fucking am!” They got into a black limo, horses and other small vehicles passed outside their windows. The other woman lit a cigarette. Star lit a joint. “You KNOW the BOC will do anything to take you down. With that said, you shack up with Uncle Richi and summon a demon from hell. That's fucking illegal magic man.”

“And since when do we care about the law? We ARE the law. I'm Queen and you're Princess.”

“I'm serious! You conjured up something bad. I may be reckless and crazy but I don't go that far and get caught.”

Star grinned. “I think you just hate him.”

“Well that too. It's an abomination, a red devil.”

“His name is Angus!”

“I couldn't care less more than I already do.”

“I think he and Rosie would be-”

“Don't you fucking dare!” The younger one screamed, she pointed her lit cig at the other. 

“Oh Dawn. He's a sweet boy.”

“More like your sex toy.”

“That too.”

“Well he wasn't the bastard king you thought he would be. Now Richi says they're investigating the whole thing. After we bailed you out after the raid, all thanks to Uncle Richi, they decide to dig in. Fucking pigs.”

They argued for some time more, about Angus, about the BOC, about her impending trial. Eventually, through their bickering, the limo arrived at the grand palace. A magnificent structure made of sandstone. As they pulled into the courtyard, a solemn faced fellow dressed all in black stood on the steps with a young girl beside him. She was younger than Dawn and Star, couldn't have been more than fifteen or fourteen years old. She had long brown, curly hair that flowed free. Slightly pudgy as was healthy for a royal young lady, and like the women in the limo, was beautiful. Her bright, hazel blue eyes were wide in concern, she was on the verge of tears.

When Dawn stepped out first, throwing her cig to the gutter, both their faces lit at the sight of each. The girl came running for her and Dawn ascended the steps to embrace her. Star watched from behind her daughter, happy to be home again.

“Nana!” The girl exclaimed as she held her hand out for Star. “I'm glad you're out of jail again.”

“Me too sweetling dove,” Star kissed the top of her granddaughter's head and then turned to her cousin Ritche.

His eyes swept her from head to toe, inspecting the curves of her body. Her velvet skirt was pleated in many ruffled folds, they fell to cover her black suede shoes, scuffed from drunkness. Her shirt was a long sleeve white blouse, bell sleeve and a tight mid fit, a wide belt around her waist. It was unbuttoned down her chest, exposing her lace bralette. Her hair was wild, her thin velvet cloak hung from one shoulder. Her eyes were tired and her glasses eschew but he knew what she looked like naked. She smiled, her cousin and lover Richi was her right hand adviser, the one man she trusted in times of her absences.

“Another trip to jail have we?” He asked. “That makes this the fourth time this week.” He began following her as the four made their way up the steps.

“Dawn reamed me already, not you too. It's not as bad as last week.”

“Then I'm sure she told you about the BOC's investigation.” He ignored her snide remarks.

“Yes, yes I know. They are always watching.”

“And you insist on getting yourself arrested, after you were nearly imprisoned for the raid. That girl you got caught with, it was the one who exposed us wasn't it?”

“Perhaps.”

“It was! And still you fuck her! You take her to the manor, seduce her, fuck her, and show her Angus! And then! After she talks to the wrong people, you take her to bed again! Getting caught for unlawful sexual seduction of a teen aged girl and getting arrested. Again!”

“She came on to me! You know damn fucking well that I don't force any of those girls into bed. They all walk right in.”

They went through the halls, Dawn going off with her child to their rooms to change her garb. The girl was always upset when her nana or mother were gone. She was a tortured soul, her skin, in some places appeared like tree bark, the same color as a willow tree. A curse set upon her since she was but a babe. Star and her man went off into a different part of the castle.

“Richi, my cousin, I know you and Dawn fear for me at the mercy of the BOC, but you seem to forget who conquered them in the first place.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I was there.”

“Ah yes,” she began.

He sighed. Whenever he and Dawn voiced their concerns at her loony antics, with good reason, Star would recount the Siege of the BOC.

“New Years eve, 1979 CR. You, Queen Anne and myself ride through the gates of the BOC City, after a three months siege we beat through their defenses and hang the traitors. New Years day, 1980 AC/DC, was the first day of the new age. That was forty years ago. In all that time I gave my people the choice of immortality, abolished laws that were unjust and harmful and my daughter gained control of the underground gangs, effectively coming to rule all the criminal gangs in the city. I set them free, and in all these years later the BOC has not once tried to start another uprising. You two may fear their power, but I do not.”

“I remember well. Before you remind me I will also recall that AC/DC stands for AFTER CULT, DEVIL CAME,” he said. She often reminded him of that and he beat her to it out of frustration.

“And who is the devil that came?” She asked in a sly, playful tone.

“You.” He said in a slightly defeated, or perhaps tired, sort of way.

“Yes. I do not fear them and their trials, for all their castles fall into the sea at my command. We've been through many of their trials before. They have no evidence and you know it.”

He looked at her. They were now in a great chamber with a balcony facing the oceans. You couldn't see the water, only a distant shimmering patch of land. She put her satchel on a wooden table, grabbed a crystal chalice and opened a bottle of wine. She lit a joint as she let the drink breath and then turned back to her cousin, two goblets in her hands.

“I'm not staying in jail. I am THE queen of Holy Wood, I always have a plan.”

“Pray do tell,” he sat and drank with her.

“It's flawless, and you're going to help me.” Her eyes flashed and she put the wine to her lips.


Richi stared at her. She was a true queen, never afraid. She drank, nodded and smoked. He couldn't help but smile back.  

No comments:

Post a Comment