Logline: An independent contractor investigating a murder makes a startling discovery about the victim and himself.
Pitch: "Faces off" meets "D.O.A"
Your name is Garrison Vega.
You’re investigating the murder of Dr. Peter Chang, a genetic engineer for the Synorganics corporation.
You can’t help but notice the changes you are undergoing during the course of the investigation. Behavioral changes, physical changes, changes that you can’t explain.
You have no way of knowing it but you are a transgenic. With each passing day, each hour, minute by minute, second by second, cell by cell, you are becoming what you most fear and loath.
Dale Mason, a predator of young girls.
A man that you share a dark history with.
You have forty eight hours to discover the reversal for your condition or you become the monster which you seek.
Your name is Garrison Vega and you are about to discover that revenge wears a face. And sometimes that face is a face in the mirror.
Pitch: "Faces off" meets "D.O.A"
Your name is Garrison Vega.
You’re investigating the murder of Dr. Peter Chang, a genetic engineer for the Synorganics corporation.
You can’t help but notice the changes you are undergoing during the course of the investigation. Behavioral changes, physical changes, changes that you can’t explain.
You have no way of knowing it but you are a transgenic. With each passing day, each hour, minute by minute, second by second, cell by cell, you are becoming what you most fear and loath.
Dale Mason, a predator of young girls.
A man that you share a dark history with.
You have forty eight hours to discover the reversal for your condition or you become the monster which you seek.
Your name is Garrison Vega and you are about to discover that revenge wears a face. And sometimes that face is a face in the mirror.
Huxley called it a reducing valve. Everyday our consciousness is bombarded by a deluge of stimuli that never ends and we simply could not function without a filter that channeled stimuli though a funnel leading to our active mind. With this reducing valve in place, our brain could be fed small, digestible bits of information and we could go about our lives, oblivious to the whirling maelstrom around us. Humans lived in a demilitarized zone as irrelevant stimuli was removed and information parsed out on a need to know basis, making life tolerable and relatively grief-free.
I no longer remember what that is like.
3:23 A.M.
I didn't recognize the person staring at me. The swelling in the right eye had gone down markedly and resembled a Peruvian flag with deep purples and yellows fluttering at the edges. The contusions were scabbed over and the face looked vaguely familiar, like it belonged to someone that I once knew but I couldn't retrieve from memory who this was.
"How are you feeling today? You seem off."
The digitized voice shook me out of my stupor and I blinked at the image in the mirror. Yup, that was me. I'd looked better.
"Your vitals are within normal ranges but I'm detecting an undiagnosed anomaly with your..."
I raised my hands and quickly waved her off. It was too early.
"Please, Lola," I said, a bit too sharply and she stopped mid-sentence. I felt bad, as if my curt response hurt her feelings, even though I was talking to a mirror. I was not terribly fond of the MD Mirrors, particularly because their scans tended to be quite accurate and her reminders were sharp little barbs that I could do without. "Your prostrate seems to be enlarged...you did not wake with an erection...your face is puffier than normal...you seem to be forgetting.." Death by reminder. I wondered why I didn't simply shut her off.
My facial wounds and bruises were no doubt throwing her off and quite frankly I had other things to worry about. I was expecting a visitor from a company that I had never heard of. I needed the work but my appearance wasn't really putting my best foot forward. The positive angle would be getting mugged is a wonderful way to ease into the conversation.
My frickin' head was throbbing, but it wasn't because of foreign data stream. I was actually clear at the moment. This headache was from a beating. I remember very little. I heard music, drifint n from somewhere. He listens to a song drifting through the air from a radio in one of the windows. He recognized the song drifting through the air. Chet Baker. There will never be another you.
“There will be many other nights like these and I’ll be standing here with someone new….”
and then I heard "Be you later..." What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I'm sure it was see you later, but was that a threat to find me and beat me again?
I didn't recognize the person staring at me. The swelling in the right eye had gone down markedly and resembled a Peruvian flag with deep purples and yellows fluttering at the edges. The contusions were scabbed over and the face looked vaguely familiar, like it belonged to someone that I once knew but I couldn't retrieve from memory who this was.
"How are you feeling today? You seem off."
The digitized voice shook me out of my stupor and I blinked at the image in the mirror. Yup, that was me. I'd looked better.
"Your vitals are within normal ranges but I'm detecting an undiagnosed anomaly with your..."
I raised my hands and quickly waved her off. It was too early.
"Please, Lola," I said, a bit too sharply and she stopped mid-sentence. I felt bad, as if my curt response hurt her feelings, even though I was talking to a mirror. I was not terribly fond of the MD Mirrors, particularly because their scans tended to be quite accurate and her reminders were sharp little barbs that I could do without. "Your prostrate seems to be enlarged...you did not wake with an erection...your face is puffier than normal...you seem to be forgetting.." Death by reminder. I wondered why I didn't simply shut her off.
My facial wounds and bruises were no doubt throwing her off and quite frankly I had other things to worry about. I was expecting a visitor from a company that I had never heard of. I needed the work but my appearance wasn't really putting my best foot forward. The positive angle would be getting mugged is a wonderful way to ease into the conversation.
My frickin' head was throbbing, but it wasn't because of foreign data stream. I was actually clear at the moment. This headache was from a beating. I remember very little. I heard music, drifint n from somewhere. He listens to a song drifting through the air from a radio in one of the windows. He recognized the song drifting through the air. Chet Baker. There will never be another you.
“There will be many other nights like these and I’ll be standing here with someone new….”
and then I heard "Be you later..." What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I'm sure it was see you later, but was that a threat to find me and beat me again?
IDENTITY ENHANCEMENT DEVICES
SynOrganics has developed industry specific competancies that allow us to respond to the unique demands of a rapidly changing world. We stand alone as the worlds largest supplier of cutting edge identity enhancement devices and protection systems.
Simple solutions for an increasingly complex world.
Simple solutions for an increasingly complex world.