INT. STAIRCASE – NIGHT
ARMORED BOOTS. Clanking up carpeted, shiny obsidian stairs. Deliberately. One step at a time.
GENERAL CLAY, a stony crag of a man in his 60s. Harder than the armor he wears. He carries a TORCH to light his way on the pitch-dark spiral stair.
The torchlight reflects off the black glass walls, surrounding the general with his own mirror image.
Then the reflection turns, and stares at the real General Clay with extreme disgust.
General Clay continues trudging up the stairs.
His reflection LAUGHS at him.
No response? Very well. You damn yourself with your very silence.
One step at a time. Clank, clank. The general's stolid frown never changes.
His reflection, however, becomes furious. It SCREAMS at him.
Do you think you will escape your fate? Do you think, somehow, you can save your city? You cannot! We are dead, General Clay! This city is dead, and it is your fault!
Clank. Clank. Clank.
The General is nearing the top of the stairs. A RAY OF MOONLIGHT shoots down from above and bounces down the stairway.
His reflection regains its composure.
Very well. If you will not answer me, perhaps you will listen when they cry out to you.