We Were Never Alone

The screen remains black, suffocatingly silent.

Then a sharp, ragged gasp pierces through the quiet. It's followed by the distant crackling of fire and the howling wind tearing through twisted metal. Something deeper resonates in the air—a low, unnatural hum, as if alien machinery breathes life through the bones of a dead world.

In the stillness, Neil's voice echoes, soft and haunted.

"The box… it was never meant to be opened. Never meant to be touched. But I did. And when I did… something woke up. In me. In everything. And the world broke."

The black screen fades into the charred ruins of a once-thriving world. Neil is half-conscious, his body broken and battered. His shoulder is scorched, and blood streaks down his face, his eyes flickering with a mixture of pain and disbelief. The wind kicks up embers and ash, swirling around him like snow in a hellish storm.

He pushes himself up, unsteady on his feet, and looks around at the devastation. The city is a graveyard, its skeletons of collapsed towers looming over cratered streets. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and decay. In the distance, the faint sounds of screams ride the wind, a haunting reminder of the carnage that has engulfed everything.

Neil's gaze drifts upward, drawn to the sky.

Suddenly, a flash of red lightning rips across the heavens, splitting the atmosphere in two.

And then, Neil sees them. Dark, massive figures float just beneath the clouds. They shimmer in and out of sight, like nightmares barely formed, their presence distorting the air around them. They are impossible, alien, a vision too terrifying to be real.

In the distance, fighter jets streak across the sky, their engines screaming through the chaos. For a fleeting moment, a spark of hope ignites within Neil—perhaps salvation, perhaps rescue. But before the thought fully forms, it's snuffed out, shattered in an instant.

The figures move—silent and swift. No light, no warning, just violence. A single, unspoken gesture, and the jets are torn from the sky as though they were made of paper. They twist and burn, falling to the earth like useless debris.

One of the jets crashes behind Neil with an earth-shaking roar. The shockwave knocks him forward, but he doesn't flinch. His eyes remain fixed upward, wide with disbelief, his breath shallow as the weight of the moment crashes over him.

In his mind, a whisper—barely audible, filled with the weight of truth.

"I thought we were the only ones. Humanity—alone beneath the stars. But I was wrong. We were never alone."

The screen cuts to black.

[Title: "WE WERE NEVER ALONE"]

The scene opens with a flash of neon-bright light that fades into darkness. The sudden, sharp sound of a gasp breaks the stillness.

Neil bolts awake, his body drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling as if he had just sprinted miles. But there is no sound, no rush of movement, no alarm blaring. It's as if the world around him has paused, holding its breath.

The clock on the wall reads 6:00 AM, the second hand frozen in place. Tick… tick… tick. Each click of the clock echoes through the silence, sharp and jarring, like the sound of gunshots in an empty room.

The harsh morning light cuts through the blinds, blinding him. It's too bright, too white, as if the world itself is burning against his eyes.

Neil slowly sits up in bed, his hand trembling as it grips the edge. His breathing begins to calm, but his senses remain hyper-aware, as if his body is still racing, trying to catch up with a world that's moving too fast.

In his mind, Neil's voice echoes, distant and introspective.

"I can hear everything. The hum of electricity in the walls… The rain... still miles away… but I can smell it."

His gaze drifts to the window. The sky is still clear, no clouds in sight. But somehow, he knows they're coming. The weight of that knowledge presses on him, heavy and unshakable.

Cut to:

Neil stands at the sink, brushing his teeth slowly. The bathroom is quiet except for the soft dripping of the faucet. Steam from the shower still clings to the mirror.

He wipes the mirror with his hand.

That's when he notices something strange.

Faint symbols begin to appear in the reflection—shapes and markings he doesn't recognize, like someone carved glowing signs into the glass. They hover behind his reflection for just a second.

He stops brushing. Stares.

The symbols vanish.

He blinks. Nothing's there now. Just his tired face, the bruise under his eye, the same man as always.

He leans in, trying to see if anything's different.

The bathroom light flickers overhead.

Then, for a split second, his reflection changes. There's a soft silver light moving just under his skin—so quick and faint he almost thinks he imagined it.

His hand touches the mirror.

NEIL

(quietly)

What is this?

The mirror stays still. No answer. Just his own confused eyes staring back.

"What the hell... is happening to me?"

Outside, a distant rumble of thunder rolls in, deep and ominous, as if the storm is acknowledging his words.

And then, the light flickers again—this time, it goes out completely.

Neil stands frozen in the dark, the faint glow from the hallway casting long shadows across the bathroom.

He looks at the mirror.

His reflection isn't moving.

Neil tilts his head slightly.

The reflection doesn't follow.

It just stares back at him, perfectly still, like it's waiting for something.

A chill runs down his spine.

His breathing slows as the silence around him deepens. Everything feels... off. Like the air itself is holding its breath.

And in that moment, something inside Neil shifts. He doesn't know why—but he knows, without question, that something has changed.

This isn't just a weird morning.

Something has started.

And whatever it is, it's far from over.

[Scene – Doctor's Clinic]

[INT. DOCTOR'S CLINIC – LATE MORNING]

The soft buzz of fluorescent lights fills the sterile white room.

Neil sits on the exam table, shirt half-unbuttoned, his eyes flicking restlessly across the room. A heart monitor beside him shows stable, but elevated vitals — everything clocking in just a little too high to be normal.

Across the room, Dr. Haru, mid-40s, precise and unreadable, scrolls through test results on a tablet. His brow tightens slightly as he swipes through the data.

He finally looks up.

DOCTOR HARU

(calm, but clearly intrigued)

"Your vitals are... impressive. Resting heart rate, oxygen absorption, reflex response—everything's reading off the charts."

(he double-checks, clearly skeptical)

"Your nervous system is responding faster than I've ever seen—like it's constantly on high alert. But there's no physical strain. No damage. No fatigue."

(a beat)

"It's like your body's preparing for something. Adapting."

Neil forces a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. But something in his eyes is distant, distracted.

His gaze shifts to the glass cabinet door on the far wall. For a split second, the reflection ripples.

Strange symbols shimmer faintly across the surface—jagged lines, curved markings—like glowing etchings surfacing from beneath the glass.

He blinks.

Gone.

Neil looks back at Dr. Haru, trying to focus, but his mind races.

NEIL (V.O.)

It started with the mirror.

Now it's everywhere.

Reflections whispering in a language I don't know—yet somehow, it's starting to make sense.

Not hallucinations. Not stress.

It's a message.

And someone—or something—is trying to get through.

Suddenly, a low humming tone pulses through the clinic's ambient noise—too faint for human ears.

Neil's pupils contract sharply.

Dr. Haru notices the change but says nothing. He just studies Neil quietly, like he knows something's wrong but doesn't have the words for it.

Neil looks back at the cabinet, now blank and still. But he knows what he saw.

And it's not over.

[Scene – Office Subplot Begins]

[INT. TECH OFFICE – EARLY AFTERNOON]

The fluorescent buzz is a scream in Neil's ears.

Keyboards click like gunfire.

Phones ring like alarms.

Even the hum of the AC rattles like a low growl in his bones.

Neil sits at his desk, staring blankly at lines of code.

But his focus drifts.

He hears everything.

Across the room, two interns whisper by the water cooler — a harmless office crush.

Behind him, someone's typing an email filled with lies.

By the elevators, someone's quitting… but hasn't told anyone yet.

His eyes flicker.

He knows things he shouldn't.

Like secrets were suddenly encoded into every sound wave.

A voice snaps through the haze.

JAI (30s, hoodie, coffee in hand):

"Yo, Neil. You still human today or did you finally upload your brain to the cloud?"

Neil blinks and turns. Jai leans casually over the divider — lanky, playful, eyes sharp with that constant look of 'I know something you don't.'

NEIL (dryly)

"If I did, I'd mute your voice first."

JAI (grinning)

"Rude. Especially after I brought you gifts from the cosmic abyss."

He holds up a tablet, showing an image — a dark, grainy photo of a massive asteroid. The screen glows faintly in Neil's peripheral vision, almost pulsing.

JAI (CONT'D):

"Next week. Closest pass in decades. They're calling it T-IX42, but Reddit thinks it's a cloaked mothership. I think it looks like a turd wrapped in moonlight. But hey — beauty is subjective."

Neil's gaze hardens as he stares at the image.

His breath catches.

Something about it is familiar.

A shape from a dream.

A pattern from the box.

REYA (late 20s, sharp bob, dark eyes that miss nothing) slides into her seat nearby, earbuds in.

She pauses, glancing at Neil like she's been watching him longer than she lets on.

REYA

"Neil's been glitchy all week. Don't tell me you're going full Jai-mode."

NEIL (forcing a smile)

"Just tired."

REYA

"Yeah? You've been tired since Tuesday. And you haven't blinked in the last forty seconds."

A flicker of amusement passes her face. But behind it, curiosity. Concern. Maybe even recognition.

SONAL (early 40s, crisp saree, eyes like daggers) strides past — clipboard in hand.

She stops just short of Neil's desk.

SONAL

"Neil. Standup in five. Please be awake this time."

Then she moves on.

But as she walks away, Neil hears it — a whisper beneath her breath.

Too soft for anyone else to catch.

SONAL (barely audible)

"He's changing."

Neil freezes.

His pulse skips.

His vision blurs for a second — not from exhaustion, but something deeper.

A shift. A resonance.

He looks back at the asteroid on Jai's screen.

It's not just familiar.

It's a warning.

____________

INT. NEIL'S ROOM – NIGHT

Dark. Still.

Neil tosses in his sleep, brow furrowed in restless dreaming.

DREAM SEQUENCE – EXT. CRASH SITE – DUSK

The sky is deep purple.

Wind brushes tall grass.

That same clearing—scorched earth, whispering trees.

A figure stands across the river.

Hooded. Tall. Cloaked in shadow.

Its face—a void.

It lifts a hand. Slowly. Pointing—

Right at Neil.

Neil tries to speak, but no sound comes.

The wind howls louder.

DARK FIGURE (V.O.)

You must return... before it begins.

The earth trembles. The sky tears open with flame—

A war. A burning city. Screams.

Neil gasps—jerks awake.

INT. NEIL'S ROOM – NIGHT

Breath ragged. Sweat beads on his forehead.

He grabs the glass of water by his bed—gulps.

Then—freezes.

He turns slowly to the corner of his room.

The box is gone.

Neil blinks, frowns, gets up—

Checks the floor. Under the bed. Closet. Desk.

Nothing.

He mutters to himself, pulse quickening.

NEIL

"No, no, no... I left it right here."

He grabs his flashlight. Throws on a jacket.

Steps outside.

EXT. FOREST – NIGHT

Leaves crunch underfoot.

The night is unnaturally quiet.

He pushes through the undergrowth, flashlight beam cutting through fog.

Each step feels… guided.

Like something is pulling him forward.

EXT. CRASH SITE – LATER

He emerges from the trees. Stops.

The clearing is just as it was in his dream.

Scorched. Silent.

And the patterns are there.

Faint, glowing geometric shapes, spiraling outward from the center.

Then—

WHISPERS.

Like a hundred voices behind a closed door.

Speaking thoughts that aren't his.

Neil staggers back, clutching his head.

NEIL

"Stop... what is this...?"

Across the river—

The figure.

Exactly as in his dream.

Still. Hooded. Cloaked in flickering shadows.

No face.

Just presence.

Neil steps forward, drawn.

NEIL

"Who are you?! What do you want?!"

A pause.

Then the voice—deep, ancient—echoes in his mind.

DARK FIGURE (V.O.)

They awaken. You must be ready.

NEIL

"Ready for what? Who's coming?!"

The answer hits like a thunderclap.

DARK FIGURE (V.O.)

Rakshasa.

A gust of wind. The trees groan.

The figure lifts its hand once more—

A signal.

Cut down. Destroy.

Then—gone.

Silence.

Neil stands alone.

The patterns fade. The wind dies.

Only his heartbeat remains.

SMASH TO BLACK.

TO BE CONTINUED.