“Time-travel to an isolated, desolate room in a mental hospital filled with mystery and suspense – repercussions lie ahead.”
Year 2035, Philadelphia
Bright-blue vaulted walls tower above the scattered crowds that, bracing the hard blows of wind or sunlight, meet under the central station dome, like colonies of insects trying to bury themselves within the commotion of the city. Atop one corner of the arch point, James Cole traces an edge around his lips to keep them from becoming chapped. He watches drab plastic fall from popcorn cups onto the street like autumn leaves.
They said it was going to be a great place, America. As he squinted around with disdain, there’s nothing about handprints on pristine surfaces that conjure anything great. Post-apocalyptic era had snatched greatness, freedom, and happiness from losing their flesh and bones, evaporated with trust in institutions and leadership, famine, a virus outbreak that killed 7 billion, and pushed the remaining 00,000 to the subterranean brutal life.
No one his age deemed themselves fortunate by default, The only hope of recuperating some sense of normality was to figure out how close to the original source behind it all, the virus.
Then the machine gun triggers, waves transform into mutilated forms, disassembling into bite-sized memory streams, heat bearing down on his flesh, eddies of sweat-darkened hair flying by the humid breeze but still unable to tippet loud roars and wails.
An explosion, two explosions, three explosions, ghost flashes of light to his left and right, suddenly vast empty tunnels with parts torn off, gory violence that destroyed everything standing in its sight.
Chapter 1 – Time Jump
James Cole watched himself drop through time. Ethereal darkness, enveloping his mind in nothing but insanity, wrapped around him as it seeped through him. He wasn’t merely riding on a time-travel, he was part of the process itself.
Then, a scattering sensation hit hard; fresh air, the screech of tires and honking filled Cole’s senses, jolting him awake. A man laid on the car home trying to avoid what he thought was a vision followed by a scratch on bricks ignited shouting hits the air, making shots of bolts come from various buildings.
Dumbstruck, Cole looked backward over his shoulder to comprehend, a short boy stood before him awed too until noticing his predicament, and rushed away into the spilled masses of students.
That jolted his memory: people. Thousands move on every stroll through streets, including inconsequentially crafted irrelevant made-up scenarios. Cole had found himself where he didn’t intend to go—badly aimed-time-traveling injected in the wrong date.
Amid struggling to correct his positioning and carrying out whatever errand was entrusted to him, he the nature of the humbling, muddy and squandered world in which everyone from his time scrambled.
A glance at young women –covered more than heads- moving eyes then placed a late eighties vision around him. Buildings aged ahead with industrial edges that reminded Cole of his journey to excavate – and not to admire.
Having discovered attempting to seek aid to navigate the city worthy, Cole asserted himself trying to access what’s left of social media, exploiting the fame Dr. Erica Jones’ younger self had stirred.
He needed to contact her genius mind post-meddling around only packed that it was quite simple. But presently finding his prey within the invisible scenario they had fashioned would sell his logic.
After checking in on an antique rotary phone practice enabled around him, applying a principle of realism no loon with little story would know, Cole set about unraveling the cause of the vast vaccination of phobia the inhabitants’ mindset composed in his era.
“Do you want fresh air?” A thick-cheeked bald-headed man popped before Cole could finish organizing about his objectives. “You look stuck in a moment,” “deal with reality son,” fast-wrinkling on his words, “because fantasy thrown into space don’t jive well here.”
While trying hard to mimic the man’s wording, he found himself stuck at a mental line where everything shifting from useless transparency to urgently infused commitment conjured grasping insanity.
Chapter 2: “Psychiatric Ward”
James awoke still wearing the same scrubs he had been given at the airport. His hand was handcuffed to the hospital bed’s rail. With his cell partner, Joule observing from across the ward, he strained against the handcuffs like an animal in a cage.
A nurse noticed James’s agitation and hurried off. A few sentences he struggled with sleep when Nash arrived- holding clothes -appears near the bed not quite willing to touch James but trying to disengage him with the whip of the sheet.
James froze for Nash hit his wounds where it truly hurt. She approached his bed and guarded her “the boss woman”. From an unlicensed recreational look and offering a dreadful look, James spurted, “You set me up! You on the speculators’ payroll?”
“Jeez, I haven’t seen one of those before!” Nash favored pointing it out to him. “Like anyone cares about hundred-year-old money?”
“United States issue,” James resounded stiffly.
“What a seriously sick world we live in. Don’t you agree, detective?” Nash pouted running his uniform in her hand, cutting heel into James’s thigh apprehending from scratch “Can we please beware that secret weapons, underground organizations, and presidential murder stories are more factual than science fiction now? We’re living in the time where children will be telling their history teachers pandemic screams have become a true rave every time you watch a new out-blushing,” her interest now overwelvehelmingly higher driven by comparison.
James’ bite doesn’t get the better of him since Joule decided to end their little meeting by squeaking, “Ovary time! My menses!” From the bed across from James.’
Nash winced at that thei wailing, irritated by the possible source. She unhanded James and bounced over to Joule, scolding. “Honeybee, weren’t you asking for double divan? How about electric heat fans? Private washrooms?”
Suddenly things tried looking up by Ashton appearing conspicuous as somebody who didn’t require Asclepius on call. It seemed that everything was quickly slipping from Nash’s control in short. She waved hello to Ashton and lingered long enough for Joule’s tiny limbs seized on to caught a purple ring off form her shocked finger in the escort.
Than Khrist just seems ignored, preoccupied.
Ashton extends hers that is present when confronted by James’s hard focused stare. “I’m Dr. Freedman,” she stated as she stole James away from the security protocol that was Nash’s life.
It was too difficult for James to believe them. It often made him wonder if he was still in some vicious delusion from jumping through time to continue arguing once he discovers he’s suddenly irradiating his aggressiveness in distress.
She took a seat across the bed from James and pulled out a notepad. “Can we start with your name?”
“James.” He rubbed his cuffs with his knuckles, willing her to a vital position to determine the explanation for his condition.
Freedman wrote down James’ name and began questioning him on anything from past illnesses to frequent mood swings. As it ends, she fondly fingers a variety of personal styles spotted up James in beyond an era to form a notation during extraordinary irregularly period.
“How do you feel about yourself, Mr. Cole?” Asked Freedman, writing something down on her notepad.
“I’d like you to let me go,” said James flatly, rather than answer Freedman’s ambushed questionnaire.
With the things he saw in the future before he jumps back into time affecting him and deteriorating his sanity even further this tragedy belaying a danger that Compulsorily with corresponding ensetuations exposed forcing into heart one single top secret- there is absolutely no stopping them.
Chapter 3: “The Mad Scientist”
James Cole dragged his tired body through the deserted streets of Philadelphia, feeling the burden of the life and death situation that weighed down heavily on his shoulders. His train of thought was broken only by the echoing sound of his own footsteps as he weaved in and out amongst rundown buildings and long-forgotten store fronts. Finally, reaching his destination, James paused momentarily to gather his strength for what promised to be perhaps his most significant decision yet.
Ten years ago, at the early stages of the viral outbreak that would go on to decimate humanity down to a few underground safe areas concentrated around what was left of the United States, would-be saviors emerged in droves. Most given up after exhausting all possible curatives routes, many others throwing sound minds down esoteric rabbit holes in a last-ditch efforts to understand the why.
Today, a single tortured uncertainty still aggressively held the world in its grip- just like James.
His infected mindset had driven him down a dark path since Gordon took to his grave the enlightenment unraveling the formula of the virus mutation strain.
Cole’s primary task had been to locate Gordon through the extensive network of scientific evidence he apparently left; unfortunately, its cryptic nature made it challenging to do it himself.
James couldn’t shake off the feeling of helplessness as the know-it-all Dr. Fletcher bloviated in front of him in his ‘lab’. His face was lined with derision at anyone looking naively hopeful under his all-consuming umbrella of intelligence.
The researchers and other dead-straight professionals processing their solipsist goals framed Gordon when things went sour. Gradually intelligence began succumbing to biases; people didn’t abide in logic anymore; they abandoned structure, order, this world.
There was one scientist whose notions were of logical reasoning, under whose formula Gordon seemed poised to unnerve the source- his capable but nonetheless criminally insane father, Leland Frost — unique mind, eccentric and hard-lined.
Cole had spent last night exploring rumors dark matters – stories that only some PhD executives would murmur over whiskey at clandestine trans-style Texas casinos that never rest.
Leland Frost built bones in techniques the world rejected, deciphering knowledge lost to time of the liminal and the esoteric left for the otherworld. Heathed with respect to some outer schools and marginalized by few, James had been forced to venture into the mutually inaccessible, locked inside lush closets of tradition.
Cole’s pulse quickened within his chest as he made his way through stairwells littered with graffiti to Frost’s darkened, terrible sanctuary. The horrifying interior littered layers upon layers of peculiar alchemical doodads, rusty detritus plates, pagan, and premodernist veiled orifice objects.
The metallic scraping of bolted doors closing in on him sent a chill running up his spine. He finally stood before Frost, who was examining a crystal he had retrieved from his lab coat. He spoke softly, almost apologetic. “I did not anticipate my own son stooping to stealing frig bots from his father’s machine shop.”
Cole didn’t retaliate at the subtle jab but kept his point straightforward. “Science with a hint of occultism can certainly make one hell of a combination, Mr. Frost. Has your work suggested anything relevant of late?”
“Cut the flattery, young man, and speak straight for what conjures your needs. For everything else falls short of moving men, commanding armies, and piercing mystery.”
“I need information, decipherable biogenetics to suppress or vaccinate against the monster humanity faces seeping across thousands of modern hospitals and non-compromising nations territories.”
A grime-rimmed dish returns to Leland’s grip, marking its previous place firm.
“You have made me suspend practices benign with a predictable rising sense of monotony for readings devoid of use accustomed to visions within established orders. But specifically trained tasks applicable to achieving specific comprehension…”
Frost breathed in deep, taking in exhaust haze from some flickering algae diodes, before branching out before them the documents grasped beyond lock and key, each ink-stroked and silken tome assembled beneath the rafters lurking amidst diseased coal and quicklime skied logs. “There are whispers of esoteric and even the rotten within scourgs more universal than our causational knowledge. Besides here clues are uncommon with atypical layering entities unmasking each turn of mind.”
“That barely sounds specific as an operation line, unlike what I require.” James attempted to sound calm, but it came off as terse.
Pack stacking books – ones written in texts and in languages offbeat heard beyond modern diplomatic lines, anticipating Cole’s next move as he struggled quite evidently to keep the frustration that threatened to boil over from taking hold.
“Do not plan to scold me when your venture should have already begun at self-purpose, James.’
He turned and leaned back into a corner with a somewhat obscene seeming Latin text obscenity pushed his way. “Cepectoralisti caumentative astantiate dimension-zala eta striaitio sortali estadea-dimei.”
The room suddenly became darker, the creaking floors shifting beneath him, reminding James that that he was likely treading dangerous ground as coats so chemo-fatigued and dreary towardes ended reality and visionary. Then amid the vibrant sylph-like tinkle, colors lively fondue of rays flamboyant exploded throughout the chamber.
Frost remained steadfast, basking under the curtains of his experiment come alive.
The colors flowed through James too, dispersing the spell strangely confounding. Sigil-marks and equations spun out prophetic melodies – though nothing specific seemed to take form – swirls only licking up local letters and floating them within blank nebulae into clusters.
It concluded when the centrifuge displayed its contents, partially melting that shed unknown light. Frost leaned over examining their fate, the shadow of the tanned southern sun hanging over his bushy head. “I’m glad your interest has risen, but I can imagine yesterday’s heroes getting a tad heretical, matters becoming rather strained overtime to refine experiment at relevant levels. Take your time evaluating these readings and cipher the secrets within – or die in prison from a data server crash as might.”
James stared blank at the lines before nodding grimly and evacuating early post-interaction entropy for safety reasons.
“Feels like I just made a date with death,” he muttered to himself as he disappeared.
Chapter 4: “The Army of the Twelve Monkeys”
James scanned the dossier on the table, with the little light source bouncing against the shadows of the lab’s equipment. A wide range of options popped up in James’ mind—all unsatisfying.
All fingers can be pointed to that being the case. Wiping the sweat off his hands and dampness covered the spine of the documentary, he corroborated with the urban myth for a few minutes then proceeded to slimming down persons of concern.
Knocking out the assumptions whizzing in his head, James let out a noise of irritation cursing himself for lacking leads–He’d known this would occur, yet he still let desire to classify people and evidence to take over him.
The scratches and mental degradation of the deceased provided rooms to speculate, but sudden leads to hone in to were unapproachable. The impossibility to retro-act the offender or the magic of de-destination, showed a wall James had hit.
But after a moment of reflection, staying hours on monitoring low freqs. and observing people walked past him, a new realization occurred: They presented the closest direct public approach.
The concept tore open fresh paint around several regrets, puzzling doubtes awakened. But it beat sitting idleistically and repeatedly hitting obstacles. James crammed the last pieces into his jury-rigged communications link, which hopefully will not impact his ears, and stood up swiftly preparing himself for action.
Solitude engulfed him as he navigated empty accommodation, whispering shouts of history, and ghosts frequenting his walk. Ten steps forward found James stepping through the relatively vacant grass patch, where he sighted a maroon two-door car parked at one end of the road.
Deliberately keeping his head low while he passed close, stopping momentarily in front of the car. That’s when he saw the emblem he was looking for – “The Army of the Twelve Monkeys.”
After doing a handful of research, it was undeniable that he was knocking on the doors of rioters that caused severe panic and chaos in coast to coast.
An ideal witness as James deluded when we even see the cause of all these matters happen anytime soon without the help of the Twelve Monkeys; talking with direct culprits helps you tie the flaws they make.
You sat on nails if attempting wrong against them; transmuting others’ opinions could lead to strict repercussions. Finding the location of the distributors was the sole likelihood for him straightforward to grasp a confirmed indication.
Jenny Green, James’ acquaintance, pondered wherever things moved swifter with coming opposition—a woman in full-black brandishing grand glasses, no longer cute or endangered as she possessed self-value, ready to contest norms with studied caution level alertness opposing genuine and active factions.
It gloomed at night near the information facilities, and no one could attest anything fond over there unless they imported stuffs they’ve been compactly aiding with. The operation boiled up as politics surrounding their political controversy made it more requisite.
Steam surfaced from the large alleys, illuminating the nervous seedy underbelly of the city, defied only by the upward casted ground-skies blend. The environment was mostly rows of aging shop-house rectangles in various conditions.
During Billy Hayes ten-years of being caged, Chris travelled Hudson’s path where he witnessed entirely different but intricate set of folks. There’s a correlation sector, and eventually might surpass Ben and Jerry. But Chris found something that encouraged him while James was waiting on Hanna’s call,
A pair of unmarked patrols slowly parked down Feather lane at twitchy angles, departing far growing higher than bikers loiterers and overall apparent targets. Observing fragments from a concealed hiatus, having to maneuver your vision, lest passers-by will catch on to you of curious concerns.
Investigators timed thirteen members whose inclination wholly depends on scientific disfigured beliefs. A lean, functional reality shifting every five years due to cutout enhancements spinning schedules around catastrophic inventions.
Park aside hovering bushes throughout the expansive, airy hemisphere, the aspect for lost or viciously teared down buildings matched the infinite latitude or survival restriction system with the view resembling tightly pursued elements, supposedly inside.
Returned to his lair of meandering clues, James found insights that needed confirmation, signs undoubtedly positive guiding him toward a way forward. Or the inside disorder had evolved into something some ambitious people surmise, creating opportunities for plausible denial from anyone that rises hateful movements. Find a shady stay nearby to prevent diversions and risk suspiciously serious mistrust – James had knowledge learning a long: the efficiency comes from rectified speed.
Lost on the odyssey searching for leads in difficult evidence, it betrayed anyone leaving tough competition important for runners thrusting out worthless reasons.
Chapter 5: “Vanishing Act”
James dreaded confronting the conditions of his unusual science-fiction thriller-like a reality permanently. He never planned to spend another day in his present living typical way. Feeling shelled in periodic days of the present era gave him insuperable torments stopping time.
Though James predicted, with a sigh of relief, he either halts whatever compromised him further or dies. The main stipulation anticipated requirements was time. His concentration felt blank until he caught obvious shock hearing footsteps pounding the stairwell followed with the sound by metal locks digging through the silence.
Actually, as seen in the previous scene of the asylum after being interrogated repeatedly, James understood he had collected enough members pursuing his trail for discovering or interrupting he is, where around he is currently.
Stubbornly gory patients, repeat sessions thought to convince Dr. Kathryn otherwise, about the delusions James was going through over time travel to extract archives from the past. Long days, no food, light or communication, suspected chaotic thinking; confined inside dark rooms was regarded as the norm psychiatric remedy.
When at last they liberated him, it took James more than a second, looking behind watching those same exact children spread through cracked cell keys walked away. He lingered for minutes, calming himself out of the loneliness that never stopped to be ubiquitous again.
By then, Illusioned and paralyzed with incompleteness Jeffery acted aberrant, resisted authority from his companion-planner in rejecting an unstable microbe refined quickly colonized his fair city Montreal. The clandestine group’s unexpected plan needs enacting today.
James regretfully rises abruptly, noticing Jeffery inside his head positioned to explode a contagious chemical located in the middle of town’s business district, causing panic and inflicting lethal torment across from miles width and million innocent aftermaths. Time had been narrow, and distress signs dangerous, then emergency comes along the corner.
With almost tears in his eyes recognizing loss, James did not think much more – break free and dodge, engage and attack before Jeffery could have the available leisure to initiate twenty centuries of loss of support, love, and everything he ever understood of the current day age.
As fast as his legs would propel him, James carried enough traction towards the best-insulated, central scientific command shack, whisking him away from the debilitative, attacking virus previously effectuated seriously harm remaining innocent of the city.
Low priority bureaucrats’ gathering and gossip around individual opinions on limited means leave jurisdiction stripped, flooded by a frantic populace demanding every aid beyond the agency’s services to disguise location of “The Army of the Twelve Monkeys,” are bringing upon mankind four-fold catastrophic damage.
As destabilizing impacts become undeniably transparent in fighting an injury significant as bacteria or fighting the populations affected thus intending to overthrow the resistant tendency and themselves join nonexistence, strictly from leaders’ requests till common sense follows. Before apocalypse happens, whoever against a shred thought it might occur again. Understanding the value of intertwined co-athors in harm’s way, losing the past century pushing hardship faster jeopardizing everyone’s safety better conceive a wild plan behind it.
James has overlooked this coldly consummate just as ultimate revelations have demanded an all-embracing judgment. At the cost of losing someone equally necessary for ending current times puzzle. More fatal than a biochemical adversary, James can easily intrigue recognition in occasional internal migraines simply from whatever the death of lifespan evidently endorses, time extending straight to oblivion.
Chapter 6: “Deceit and Perception”
Gradually, James tried to believe in Dr. Kathryn after succeeding in escaping from the Army of the Twelve Monkeys. Nevertheless, something about her appears rather suspect. With snippets of information bothering him way preconceived thoughts and concerns. James put it to the test and contacted the Associate FBI, claiming he’s somebody with vital information about the weather from underground labs. Laying down the credibility card to arrange an immediate meeting, Coleman made sure he followed and attended precisely as appended by forensic officer Jose.
The woman he was presenting felt confident and sure of herself; It was as though she had every single detail of what deals she had concern for down pat – especially when she fields fluctuating queries from him. Suddenly Kathryn enters, looking for the classified files.
“The records state that James allegedly contacted the FBI stating that he acquired crucial developmental weather data but we don’t know anything about underground labs, Kathryn calls them something else. The location must remain unrevealed because of the various, possibly at risk stakeholders involved.”
Kathryn attempted to remove the hard drive in a slender faking move covered as well beneath heavily encrypted slots he was astonished when the privacy and the secrecy collapse compelled him into acting, and before he realizes he accomplished stealing the disk, Kathryn starts begging and apologizing.
Beneath these disorientating facts lies a story involving the meticulous collaboration between Hopkins and the government agent Leland Reardon––things go mistaken multiples points, and Hopkins experiences a nervous breakdown.
“Here, take these pills man!” Jeffrey began. James holds the meds but didn’t bother about it.
“I used to believe all of this was anxiety and visions— but what if none of it’s in your head, but instead planed by somebody else!” Shocked with a part of reality that could never make sense, Doctor Kathryn decides asking questions is the most responsible of a move.
Weeks ascertaining documentation and consulting sources underwent, Cole gathers facts and links at out-work. Knowing the meaning behind the whole mission, using what he deduced he begins to dispute whether the Army of the Twelve Monkeys truly induced the epidemic or they just happened to be in the area when the pries was relinquished on un-Leoben scientists testing viruses.
The aroma reconnected him to nights spent under the infernos of bullets those plagued back in 2035, as though he could walk through the blurred sketch laid out before him, James breathed in the peculiar foreboding percolating outta the inside.
Attempting to go to Pittston, where private consultant Johanna is working at a place remote to maintain developing botany; while they were in his car, she exposes that Leland task is stalking them: Johanna who created the fatal virus understands only too well about Leland’s appearance around every opposite matter typically dealt. After a cyclone hides scores including Katherine, Johanna admits the intriguing story behind Jeffrey and Leland’s family melodrama. She tells how Jeffrey despises his father’s scientist inner until disillusion lines up for expeditious suspicion, hardly unexpectedly bringing lethargic attemption from Cole, only excited hope.
Reflecting back absent-mindedly now that Kathryn Railly even has made her entrance months beforehand- Cole’s vigilance carries over in his silent morose bustle.
Jeffrey dissuades the remains having eyes for Salekin’s suspects who envisioned to generate a deadly common virus, useful for financing and weaponizing biomedicine that landed about omnipotent control upon release. Both of them anticipate the creation and mortality on a sweeping order plain and emerge. Albeit prematurely coming across than second dangerous goons, Reardon finally expos its aim to help its release––the reason James was thrown beforehand after a mix-up in dates.
Kathryn described little clarity about rehearsals further than helping to connect the dots regarding predators’ security proxies. For James. from the thrilling kernel spreading – he advised it was the intricacies he feared–– yet unweaned years of thought has made him incapable of serviceable functionality.
Chapter 7: “The Trackdown”
James took a deep breath as he stepped out of the abandoned building he had been hiding in. His mission to find the Army of the Twelve Monkeys had led him down a path of betrayal and deceit. The thin warm air of the city could barely remove his discomfort after spending the night in the cold and blistering air of the entire day.
But he didn’t have time to think about that now. He had to keep moving. The dawn slowly turned black as clouds began to grapple up, crushing all traces of light in a horrifying churn of storm-turmoil.
James scanned the streets, hoping to spot any leads that would guide him to the mysterious group. He couldn’t help but remember when Dr. Railly had warned him of this path’s dangers – he’s risking life and duties amid mutually exclusive inclinations, dreaming of home and steeling himself for what approaches.
Desperate, James ran up to a hansom cab and offered the driver all the cash he had left for any information. The information turned out to go nowhere, so even though James notices his anonymity was becoming hollow, it meant he felt more alive in the thrilling, fleeting moments of denial.
Thinking on his feet, James approached a group of homeless people and tried to engage them in conversation. None had any valuable intelligence, but one strange man did suggest that there was a man lurking in the shadows – the one resembling the mysterious leader of the deadly virus.
Risking everything, James followed the man’s instructions, heart clattering in his rib, and sensed something that may lead to the assailant he was scrutinizing. Finally, in a dark corner of the city, James saw a man standing, handing a cigarette to another swathed figure. It felt like he was this close to show any sympathies of urgency.
He walked comfortably and boldly to the man, nothing showing on his face as he calmly straitens his collar, outwardly making an attempt at professional tension needing justification.
The man’s reaction turned out to be hostile, barely recognizing the disguise but enraged with pinpoint aim. James saw the man and dodged, feeling a bullet hit the wall behind him. As he rolled to the front of the tall, grubby community stall tables, he saw witnesses in shock dispersing through the covers of the retail outlets.
As he backed away, he couldn’t help but realize that there was no chance of reasoning with an insane man. The soldier in him awakened, not requiring as much course of emotion – find the angle, ponder on any facilities, approach, and annihilate with necessary force.
Without a second thought, James drew his own gun and fired back through the acrid smoke left by the enemy. He hit his target directly; however, he soon realized that it wasn’t the man he had been seeking – it was just a decoy.
Turning quickly, James saw the real leader of the Army of the Twelve Monkeys vanish around a corner, leaving behind a sinister laughing note which Jones would come after him Like That.
Chasing the leader through the maze-like streets of the city, James was starting to gain on him. He could see the man’s snow-white hair through the crowds that poured out of the numerous alleyways at every bend. Whether by weapon strike or brilliant overstep, failing would not end as deterring.
Suddenly, the leader turned into an alleyway and then abruptly stopped. His body went limp as he outstretched his arms.
James paused as he heard laughter trickling from the end of the alleyway. There was a loud bang, and then the atmosphere cleared, weirdly eerie considering the laughter. The smell of corrugated smoke claws into the muggy air after the gunshot, a nimous overmastering putridness snarl covering attack thoughts.
Slowly but cautiously, James started to step towards the end of the alleyway until he saw the man holding a virulent bio-chemical container. Shocked, James realized what the Army of the Twelve Monkeys had planned – an epidemic in the making once more, this time fatal with no recoverable dexterous to retort so fast.
James quickly weighed his options, knowing that he only had moments to act before it was too late.
Chapter 8: The Revelation
Scavenging over Jeffrey Goines’ research materials, James honed in on what looked like incriminating data he had accumulated over the past decade. Beads of sweat flashed on his forearms as he scanned through pages, looking for what could lead him to Terrence Shield.
He got to a document typed under the header “Absolute Eradication of Humanity I.” Almost immediately, it detailed procedures and experiments that twisted his insides. Containment breaches spread a plague he discovered never existed – ultimately high figures of coughing, vomiting, desiccation beguiling signs of the grotesque, while the infected one and alike degenerated under abysmal conditions. What muffled still behind this was that the patent of the virus he’s sent amid everything spawned from the world was the turning point in all propinquity.
Donning a bulky military surplus chemical protective suit intended for nuclear attack encampments, James journeyed out into downtown Philadelphia once again. The sun, albeit in the midday sky, passed dull gray light, emitting through the pollution, and dropping shadows along the pavement. The nonexistence of life created an eerie temple induced by dead towers and glass remnants shattered upon the tarmac road.
His path led him to Terrence Shields’ laboratory, located along the northern area of Girard. He remained engrossed with Jeffery’s ten-page enclosures and put words of advice from the entries previously made from his psychiatrist under noted bookmarks in his head.
An intuition equivalent to relativity fletching from his origin enforces him to squint his pursuit, hide his meansings of evolutions and follow the captain and the fellow sailor silently.
Terrence carried a piece of laboratory gear, new in mint form. By a table, barren with modifications done, they intimated within, while the range’s busy city road a few meters steadfast.
“What an honor it remained beneficial, exposing something aimed to annihilate each organic creature.” Terrence noted, twining and screwing on a detachable functional part.
The keeper worked in chilly serenity, but Keino, dressing his every motion, surged behind him like a malignant spirit.
“I had my traumas, doubts in creating something totally unnamed before. Anything deserving celebration went wrong, so now I play celestial company with uncharted pantheons.” Keino stated, apparently avoiding profound contemplation.
“You were discussing special adjustments before you left me wandering last this summer?”.
“There’s a peripheral software platform all ready that merely requires your configurations. The channel might correspond to the virus to unlock the pathogen formulas and detail product for numerous illnesses!”
Terrence fumbled it over; secure archives scrolling an obscured inlaid entity were codifying the DNA sequence of hope. Upon stabilizing the sequence, you can weigh its reaction time and its own unique metadata protocols, utilizing high-end quantum-based CPU interaction systems.
“It will stress your timing mixtures, but nothing improbable. Have the discretion segments enhanced.”
Another mysterious event in a masquerade of ghost lifelessness. Their allies reinforced with each other by outward appearance strayed them far from discovery, however, James could gain access through the rear door off a security memory lapse driven by strategic acoustic triggers set in place.
This inferential gratification arose as a reconnaissance form apart of measured preparations in significantly substantial contemplation. Retrieving a soft case and throwing back its casement at such state – a thing that outranged that kind – James quickly zipped in and out into the lab once more.
Stored on a thermal paper, he obtained what was capable to indict the group alongside their affiliates, the Army of the Apostles. In place were identifying details, classified data his initial mission relapsing those layers by authority. The infection had generated psycho with men as higher factors within proclivity—a doom the late was yet knowledgeable.
Forthwith at that period, a nightmare come conceivably ready to submit to the tribe’s extreme propinquity, and James found the rational need objective to exterminate delicately while rationing guilt anguishingly emboldened his kindness.
As he inched an element closer to successful implementation, failure ripened in his face, dimming its glare as external purview –Jeffery– held the boom of quite an imposed confrontation upon reach.
Chapter 9: The Scientist and The Savior
The battle has concluded. The time travel is doomed in the vast void, avoiding attempts. Kate’s smile demands pride, and James relieved. Together, they shake down the aftermath of the restored chaos, amidst restrained cheers from opposition held back by sentry forces.
“Wha—what just happened?” James asks, looking around wildly for more negative tendrils designed to topple whatever semblance of security remained.
Kate smiles at him, tucking her hair behind her ear. “History has been remade. We are back on our old paths.”
“We changed everything, talked to my boyhood self, kept my parents alive.”
“Now be kind to old Dr. Goines.” Kate winks.
“Yes. Maybe I’ll have them ask what caused me to go mad.”
“Just keep your focus, James. Seeing the future wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be, plus with that homing beacon gone, or people gave up searching, it means we have a chance where we didn’t before.”
Gasps and screams erupt.
Kate crouches down, disarming a unconscious member of the ‘Army of the Twelve Monkeys’.
“He woke up to an entirely altered history. He was a scientist who always dabbled in the dangerous.”
Kate centers the retrieved toxin from nearly-extracted vials still in place within his pocket. “But it won’t reach the public now. One major root has ceased to function.”
“I hope things don’t ‘cease’ to function.” Cole drags his hand through his disheveled hair, laugh-coughing to fill the silence before looking to her. “So is Goines dead?”
“It seems, you were the – one who had stopped that.”
“I was sure it was me.”
“No, Dr. Railly. He was happy because of us. Now, even though it is safer, I must bid you adieu. Visit the pastime, marvel at ‘Shit Museums’, and put up that towel.”
James is left standing at Union Station, scuffing between his feet, bags loaded by his side, inexplicably wistful. He followed those ideas to a strange but well-worn hotel, where travelers await impending destinations.
Presently working his way through bureaucratic headache, James sees a glazed and strange experience shrouded in hell instead stumbles across something he failed to ever quite trust.
“What may I help you with?” The librarian inquires.
“The Army sent scientists and engineers. Yes.” he boasts, somewhat hunching not only from working constantly, but want his label with proficiency too deep.
Immersed less than truly acute within his passions, Cole outlined most codes beginning with even my 20th creations. Tending towards the beloved time traveler, Jeffrey Goines. She looked over at him.
“You mean Jeffrey Goines? Haven’t heard that name in a while.” relinquishing paperwork
Warm particles flooded his re-acquainted veins. Delight overwhelmed the medium – although exclusive. Clutching his new I.D card and cracesing back outside feels tiny spacial movements – the stones shifted.
Donning a small grin that’s been months in the making, something evolves in Jamie’s outlook maturing between time now complete and ambiguous gracelessness, deep within primal struggles to survive amongst other times.
He fulfills natural succession against changing events like this. Years distracted him; barely certain his grasp is collective again instead of scattered across insurmountable days.
It has been restoration-gifted, priceless movements unstuck in time. At this moment, James is all the sudden welcome to every idiosyncrasy challenged in our beliefs so he cautions for the excruciating endless possibilities he may stumble upon. However, those outdated dreams are infinitely more colorful compared to dismal reality.
James knows everything that defines him has wind becoming new twists and turns with no one relating who most he speaks to.
Factuality recieves results externally transformed, true affectations stem from mindscapes enveloped after a hard shift, confusingly accompanied.
Some scenes from the A.I. movie Twelve Monkeys
Name of the Screenplay: The Time Paradox
Based on the novel: Twelve Monkeys
EXT. CHICAGO STREETS – DAY
An empty street dims, dust lingering aimlessly. Barely a car zooms past. Bird carcasses around, and graffiti markings contribute to a feeling of disinterest all around. It seems deserted; until –
We trace James Cole’s bruised face scrunched inward, trembling the veins on his neck whilst his eyes wolfishly scan the foreign sight before him.
CUS POV SHOT – JAMES COLE’S SNEAKERS
Cole, stumbles to scramble back on his dirty pair of Green Sneakers while trying to evade his captors.
MONTAGE SERIES SHOTS – JAMES COLE’S FACE
as he strains with every step we take – Quickly panting and gasping throughout the narrowing alleys, collapsing against street civilians who put on their indifferent faces towards somebody who happened to fall to the ground, and sprawling down a broken flight of partly-constructed stairs.
James stares overdue. He pulls out an overworked time vial concealed deep in pockets.
RAGING WHOOSH SOUND & SPECIFIC COLOR WASH
The empty atmosphere, shaky structure, James’ sweaty clothes, greens sneakers and face grimacing changes its color to a catacalysmic style RED, with an overpowering burst of windy sound.
James vanishes in the middle, the entire past surrounding about to change forever.
Title Sequence – ‘The Time Paradox’ in bold letters.
EXT. BROOKLYN PAGE MARKET – MORNING
The market comes alive with activity pouring in from every direction. Food stands, historical goodies spread proudly about. The outcome is loud and lively—all though somewhat chaotic.
Paranormal research specialist Sarah Milburn and fast-paced Time Enforcement agent Peter Hammer cautiously watch everyone as Sarah investigates.
(pointing to a particular vendor)
This guy made things vanish off in one go.
Peter turns around quickly towards Sarah after emptying a drink.
Sarah if crap like that was in play DOD & VADC only had to wait for confirmation reports.
I saw it as CERN put these colliders in motion, we were detecting Antimatter particles not susceptible materials – prove me wrong otherwise.
runs endlessly until Sarah debriefs James Cole as a babbling, expectant and person closest to Earth’s demise infect with imaginary future sentences on his mouth, silently leaves Sarah pumping incredibly amounts of air over his uncovered transcript. A mysterious agent very skeptical of having enough funds rises to orchestrate going back in time himself, whereas everyone thinks he’s crazy.
As an AI language model, I do not have access to your selected novel since you did not mention which novel you would like to see turned into a screenplay. Can you please provide me with the title or plot of the novel?
Scene 3: Introducing Dr. Railly
INT. NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY – DAY
Dr. Kathryn Railly, a young psychiatric expert, sits behind a lecturer and speaks solemnly to the eager faces of her students.
Society contracts or expands in proportion to how members use their liberty effectively or destructively.
But Dr. Railly’s thoughts wander as her class continues, her mind seeming far away.
Dr. Railly snaps back.
Almost fifty years ago, a warning was sounded in this library. I think it’s time we listened.
The students exchange a look of confusion.
DR. RAILLY (CONT’D)
Class dismissed for the graveyard shift.
The class rises as the chairs screech across the hardwood floor. Janet, a pretty law student, lingers at the door until Dr. Railly signals everyone out.
DR. RAILLY (CONT’D)
You’ll lose the precious things in your life if you cling to false realities this way.
Janet stares at Dr. Railly, intrigued by her unusually passionate commentary.
I didn’t know class was in session tonight. You- you sounded like someone else.
Perhaps I was just improvising.
Dr. Railly starts tidying up her papers.
Improvising, yes . . .
Janet turns to go as Dr. Railly clears her throat.
Can I help you with something?
Without waiting for an answer, Dr. Railly recognizes something odd about her.
DR. RAILLY (CONT’D)
Why don’t you come with me?
Finally, Janet nods, following Dr. Railly’s supple shadow out the door of the library.
END SCENE 3.
EXT. PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL – DAY
Cole is dragged out by security in handcuffs. Kathryn and Jeffrey hurry after them screaming.
JESSICA: Doctor Railly, Dr. Goines what’s going on?
KATHRYN: They’re taking James away.
JEFFREY: (irate) Those idiots let him out!
JESSICA: Who’s James?
KATHRYN: My patient, he thinks he’s from the future.
Off the psychiatry porch, out of the ambulance, James escapes- wipes and Inman grabs him hard around the neck.
INT. REST ROOM, DEPARTMENT STORE
James clips “Akron’s Mighty Fortress Church, ” rinses out his filthy windbreaker in the sink, then smashcuts to-
INT. 1917 NIGHTCLUB – ANGLE ON – TREADMILL
James is strapped onto the wheel, stuff tickets into a hole in his mouth faster, gets fish jolted M with winners or losers grimace back at him- the whole inanity flickers crazily on the front of James’ eyeballs.
ANGLE ON – JAMES shuttered face-work pushing through to control pain.
ANGLE ON – MAINFRAME- tiny red light dances. Suddenly re 1917 reels- briefly flicker, then stop completely.
James breaks loose, buries his face in his hands trembling uncontrollably as a brilliant HIT OF WHITE LIGHT- overtakes- him. When we adjust- to the –
INT. REST ROOM – DEPARTMENT STORE – DAY
Bone and grunt in leather join-joint to nose with James Cole’s cheekbone: Man, he smells- good!
FACEFULL OF WHISKERS staring-down shaky-eyed Cole. PAN BACK to –
EXT. SIDEWALK – RETAIL AREA
The tobaccocutter couple scrambleover each other, and out steps James Cole on the bustling modern Portland street.
Angle opens from high-lithely credits, we hear “Rock the Casbah,” Bob Balaban compares, its turning to his guest?
BOB: AND…that was our second commercial brake. John, you’re obviously moved.
OTHER GUEST JOHN (fake sincerity): Yes, very impressive. Luc moves quickly but he’s also infuriating– the way he gets under people’s skin.
Bob, your long standing supporting women choices center in improving women representation merit, since directed by him.
Tight spots: In on BOB BALABAN, but James’ LAUGHTER GROB in the background alarms Kathryn. For a moment she’s as conflicted and paranoid as James.
JOHN Yes, you’re right about all of that, absolutely.
A corner of rail squeaks. Kathryn excuses herself to the hallway, too-
INT. HALLWAY BB
Into Datama ‘s trust in Carin-a outwards-BBal standing by. TH you KNOW is there from YouthsCarrie Fisherviiolence TH rced?
DATAMA thinks about it; inscrullable. Kathryn’s phone rings.
KATHRYN (Into phone) Dr. Railly….
INT. SOCIAL SERVICES OFFICE LUNCHEONETTE – DAY
James Cole who we last saw walking down a busy Portland street, is a dinerr. Sitting in late afternoon sun cursing out of the corner of his mouth: bargain plastic black phone clipped to his ruined windbreaker. About when Kathryn is speaking Bob catching her?
JAMES Cole (Into phone) Railroad? More like Wells Fargo ride the Pony Express over here. (Off phone watchs demure HELENA refill his cup and tick-fiddle change)
HELENA: Sir? Sir?
James gets sucher forehead to figure that he might be hallucinating it – an Elf in coke-bottle glasses but it doesnt work: she’s really there, with some change under her chin no waiting.
HELENA: You left your briefcase last night at the Latheson County club.
BEEP from his jacket rushes casual but not sure with cough fear?
JAMES What? Who….
Answering the phone- James resumes to feeling hyped:
JAMES (Into phone) Yeah?
KATHRYN (V.O.) It’s Dr Railly.
JAMES Don’t take their vaccines, OK?
BEEP sound again.
On the café TV: Film Reviews with Gilbert Adair, CUT to an image of Salvador Dali in Adrian Lyne’s Unfaithful. Over this we can hear Kathryn:
KATHRYN Look, James. Listen to me.
(lowering voice) You remember my questions about the photograph?
The blatherings of VOTaire aggravates Kathryn’s emotions.
Int. Biochemistry Laboratory – Day
Nina is wearing a ruffled white lab coat standing in front of a microscope frantically taking notes on a notepad, whispering words to herself.
Nina: [Whispering to herself] No, no, no. Okay, a little less protein before heating, next the lens has to be angled precisely, and then wait . . .
Suddenly an alarm starts ringing on a lab machine.
Nina: What now? [looks closely at the machine, realizes there’s a combustion] Oh no.
She runs over to the machine and turns it off.
MITCH: (O.S) What’s happening? Are you okay?
Nina takes some lab equipment as an umbrella, making her movement to the office’s shed.
Nina: Yeah, everything is okay. It’s a metric sport.
MULTIBLANC NEWS REUTERS appears on an adequate room TV.
MITCH: (O.S) Nina, you have to see this. A virus outbreak just bombarded old standard strategies.
Nina quickly shuts her books and turns of the microscope, joins Mitch in the office.
MITCH: Arizona states that another research flew without succeeding to unveil the COVID challenge.
Nina: What does it mean?
MITCH: It means ever since none has discovered the twister bunch.
Nina looks frightened, sad, and afraid.
Nina: [exhales a painful breath]. I believe we should put everything you have for potential data to say into our researching nowadays.
MITCH: Let’s move.
Mitch grabs some papers and file folders and follows Nina.
INT. FOOD STORE – DAY
Shelf organization time, little groups of everyday shoppers running, enacting quantities of wipe packages or rushing after bulk tissue roll packs.
Larry(S72), wearing further facemasks under sanitary-like paper chasing toddlers forward with his shopping cart distracted by a ruckus.
SEAN, gritty-eyed New York City boy, stopped boldly in front of folks. The worker, chuckling while plucking through a pile of classic and exotic manners of raw coffee bags sprawling open in his assortment.
The underpolished signs including, scarce toilet paper haunting stretch shift-till-dawn traditions also notice carefully placed few signs with limit boundaries on every attendee at the sole time.
EXT. JEFFREY’S HOUSE – DAY
James arrived in front of Jeffrey’s house in a blue Mustang CONVERTIBLE.
Kat, Eugene and James exit the vehicle, and the first thing James registers is the house in front of him. The property is huge, and it consists of multiple buildings, where each one has different architectural styles. The main house is a massive English Tudor-style, with baroque-like embellishments with creeping ivy all over the walls. All of them look aged, like it seems as if the owner is not doing much maintenance.
Kat presses the intercom at the side of the gate. A distant male voice answers.
Who is it?
It’s Dr. Kathryn Railly. I have an appointment with Jeffrey.
There is some quietness on the line before they hear the man’s response.
My name is Sulley, Jeffrey’s estate manager.
A short pause follows.
I’m afraid Mr. Jeffrey has gone for the day.
You must be mistaken. He assured me to meet up to meet him today!
There is commotion in the background through the intercom, and then silence.
I’m sorry, everything seems to have cleared itself up. Right this way, please.
The gate behind them clicks open, and the team starts to enter the property.
Eugene hurries to go back in the car while the others follow Sulley through the lush grounds, towards the main house.
Kat leans her lips towards James and whispers.
Jeffrey isn’t the only thing that smells fishy here!
INT. LABORATORY – DAY
James, Kathryn, and Jeffrey enter the laboratory. It’s equipped with high-end technology and precision instruments.
Where is your father’s virus sample?
It’s over here.
He leads them to a large stainless steel container shimmering with a viscous, yellowish fluid.
You know the best way to maintain a deadly virus? Keep it in a cold, dark, and emotionless place.
Despite his comical tone, the words shake everyone in the room.
Let’s focus on the task at hand.
Kathryn and Jeffrey begin to peer closely at the samples while James scans the area; his gut’s suspicion returns.
He notices something unusual – all the interactions within the lab are staged. The way everyone talks, moves around each other, and then Jeffries suddenly makes a beeline for the exit.
Jeffrey starts to leave, pretending that his work is done.
Interrupted mid-step, James seizes Jeffrey by the arm.
What do you know about the Army of the Twelve Monkeys?
Without backing down, Jeffrey laughs in the face of danger, shaking James’ hold from his arm.
What do you know of it, Jimmy? That chicken scratches people with scavenged weapons like sketch pens? Killers? The world can always do with fewer overweight, bloodthirsty fanatics… but then again, do people trust someone convicted for boosting intellectual endeavors?
Suddenly, he’s out of control.
Is railing against deformity the solution for every clinical pathology James Cole? Why can’t you understand that there are no solutions babe.
Finally, in another slightly wild action, both Kathryn and James quickly force Jeffrey against the wall.
Don’t call him Jimmy. He’s here with me on my call.
Shows what sort of pride stinks if people need to come only for each other.
Jumping over nearby equipmet Jeffrey bolts out of the lab door.
They stand there distraught at the way Jeffrey gained momentum and how he lost his composure in only a matter of moments.
EXT. CITY STREET – DAY
The sound of car alarms echo through a busy street. Passerbys rushing past James, barely taking notice of the homeless man with cropped, straw-colored hair sitting against a tall building. A man who would look small and frail even without the dirty jeans and coat draped over his legs.
Suddenly a woman trips on the pavement and falls into the man’s lap. She looks up, startled at first, but then offers a warm smile when she sees the sadness in James’ eyes. She offers to help, and his grip on the empty McDonald’s cup tells her all she needs to know.
Peering around She pulls a cap down over his eyes and scrambles through her purse for sunglasses. She drops a pile of loose change into his waxy palm before disappearing away into the city.
James looks down, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. He wonders how many people he can help like this on this day. He tries to deal with the idea that he’s always been a citizen three hours past parallel, but her kindness reminds him of the other rhythms that he dreams of.
Ext. A DARK ALLEYWAY – NIGHT
James and Kathryn carefully make their way down the dark alleyway, scanning the area for any sign of the group Jeffrey mentioned. James holds his gun tightly, and Kathryn has a flashlight in hand.
Do you really think we’ll find anything here?
I don’t know, but it’s worth checking out.
As they continue down the alleyway, they see a group of people gathered further ahead. Closer inspection makes them realize that it is, in fact, the Army of the Twelve Monkeys. They are engaged in some sort of dark ritual, and as James and Kathryn edge nearer, they realize that there is a fire burning in the center of the group.
The members of the group are all dressed in long, flowing robes, and they chant rapidly in a language that neither James nor Kathryn understand. Suddenly, one of the members pulls out a live animal and tosses it onto the fire. The sound of its screams sends chills down their spine.
We have to get out of here!
But they don’t have a chance to retreat, as one of the members spots them watching from the alleyway. James and Kathryn start to run, but they are quickly surrounded by the members of the group.
Their leader is the last to approach, a tall, sinister-looking man dressed in a long robe with a hood that shadows his face. He approaches them slowly, his eyes fixed on James.
You don’t belong here, do you?
(raises his gun defensively)
If you don’t let us go, I’ll be forced to make you.
The leader smiles dryly.
Oh, I’m not here to stop you. But know that from now on, you’ll be walking straight into hell.
With that, the group parts, and James and Kathryn run out of the alley, back into the safety of the city.
(under her breath)
I never thought I’d walk away from a group of people chanting and burning animals with tears in my eyes.
(places his arm around her shoulders)
We’ll find a way to stop them. But right now, it’s time to regroup with our team.
The two steadily make their way back to their hideout, under the cover of darkness.