Chapter 10 - Season 1 episode 9: The party infiltration.

🧊 [Exterior: Error Island — Moments Later]

A box-shaped digital prism floats beside Splint as he walks away from Kage's junk-throne. The glow of containment pulses through the transparent cube, warping the inside with flickering distortion.

Splint (casually):

"Sorry bro. Not personal. Just protocol.

I put down corrupt gods before breakfast."

He snaps his fingers and a portal opens with a thunderclap made of static. He steps through—

🧊 [Interior: Overseer's Cryochamber Facility — Code 6 Cell Level]

Cold. Metallic. Blue frost seeps from the walls. The Overseer is gone. Splint walks down a hallway where dozens of high-tech cryo-pods hiss faintly.

He slides the floating prism into a triangular slot in a massive pod labeled:

SUBJECT: KAGE [TAGGED] - NEUTRALIZED

The machine locks, hisses, and submerges into the cold depths.

Splint (exhaling sharply):

"And that's how you bag a corrupted stack demon."

He spins around, scarf trailing behind him, and drops back into a spinning desk chair before a glowing keyboard.

Splint (grumbling while typing):

"Cleaning up after the Fallen One is almost brutal.

But hey… good morning exercise."

He stretches, cracks his knuckles, then glances across the cryochamber.

The camera pans…

—

[Wide Shot: The Cryochamber Hall]

Rows upon rows of vertical stasis tubes.

Inside each: a different stickman emissary — frozen in strange poses. Some armored. Some cloaked. Some look like shadows. Others are glowing, corrupted, glitched, or cracked.

All of them…

…connected to the Fallen One in some way.

Splint (voice calm, but eyes serious):

"You make 'em fall…

I'm the one who picks up the pieces."

Notification Screen flickering:

"Jest Cain — Targeted Variant // Status: Active // Location: Unknown"

Splint leans forward.

Splint:

"…Huh. That's interesting..... oh! he's going to be at a party this evening probably the member within the corrupt landlords group." Splint quickly checked on his whiteboard filled with needles tapping down on sticky notes connected by long strings with the small prints of pictures of all types of stick figures before he landed on one in particular

"Jest Cain: known for his monopolies and knowledge of legally ambiguous loophole advantages especially against adversaries or rival businessmen can often be seen partying every 2-3 months."

Splint then rolled back in his chair saying "Bingo found you" as he's computer screen locked on a location connected to a security camera.

Scene: in The City Outskirts, Nighttime — New Suburb

A fresh black car pulls into a quiet driveway. The Fallen One steps out, the moonlight flashing against his silver eyes. His new house stands behind him — minimalist, angular, yet silent… like a base hiding in plain sight.

He checks the time, then reaches back.

Fallen One (quietly to himself):

"Party's started."

He touches the hilt of his sheathed weapon. In one motion — Shunk-CLANK! — the sword shapeshifts, rearranging itself in an almost mechanical way into a grapple cannon. With a single shot—

BOOM —

He blasts into the sky like a glitch-powered bullet.

🌃 [Exterior: City Edge — Rooftop Landing]

He lands clean on a tall glass building overlooking the city's nightlife. Music pulses from a skyscraper below — the party in question.

The grapple retracts and folds into his arm. With one click, it unfolds again — but this time, the entire device morphs into a sleek dark suit that wraps around him in seconds.

A brief flash reveals the fake ID tucked into his chest pocket. On it reads:

Name: Aric Clyne

Age: 21

Affiliation: None (Blurred)

Fallen One (smirking):

"Thanks for the ID, random stickman. Hope the nap's treating you well."

He adjusts the cuffs and vanishes in a blink.

🪩 [Interior: High-Rise Party — Digital-Esque Lounge Level]

A holographic chandelier spins. Stick people in high-class outfits, cyber fashion, and glitch-tech attire dance, sip, and talk in dim-light clusters. Everyone looks important — or fake-important.

The Fallen One slips in unnoticed. A bouncer glances at his ID. The scanner whirs.

Bouncer:

"…Aric Clyne. Huh. You're cleared."

He walks in.

From the top level, near the lounge bar, we glimpse a figure — half-shadowed, glowing with green circuitry lines across his arms and face.

Jest Cain.

Laughing. Toasting. Surrounded by people who don't know who they're standing next to.

Fallen One (internal monologue, as camera pans toward Jest):

"Let's see what makes the party boy tick."

🎵 Music fades into a suspenseful synth as the camera stays focused on Jest Cain—his grin flickers, and for a moment… he looks directly at the Fallen One.

As if he knew what was to come.

Scene: [Interior: High-Rise Party — Lounge Level, Near Bar]

Jest Cain is leaning back on a velvet couch, holding a glowing glass of crimson liquid. His entourage surrounds him—artificial laughter, half-fake personalities orbiting a very real, dangerous man. He's the eye of the storm.

Suddenly, a shadow steps into the circle.

The Fallen One.

Hair slicked. Suit flawless. Smile disarming. He holds a glass in one hand, already blending in too well.

Fallen One (smiling smoothly):

"This party is wonderful. You have to tell me… how you do it."

The music dips just a little.

Jest Cain turns his head slowly, eyes half-lidded but alert. He scans the Fallen One up and down—not with suspicion, but with recognition. He doesn't show it… yet.

Jest Cain (raising his glass):

"Ah, you must be new in the loop. First time here?"

Fallen One:

"First time... officially."

Jest Cain (chuckles):

"Mmm. Then I'll tell you how I do it, friend—" (he leans in, his voice lowered like a whisper but loud enough to make the whole circle curious)

"I throw the kind of parties where half the guests don't know who paid to have the other half watched."

A few of the entourage laugh—nervously. The Fallen One sips.

Fallen One (smirking):

"Now that's elite hospitality. Mind if I stay awhile?"

Jest Cain stands.

He's taller than expected.

Jest Cain:

"Depends. What are you really here for, Aric Clyne?"

The name lands heavy. Real heavy.

Fallen One (lowering his glass, just a little):

"…Drinks. Dancing. Maybe some light… investigating."

Jest Cain:

"Mm. Just don't start asking questions you don't want answers to."

They stare for just a moment too long.

The music crashes back in—everyone around starts pretending again.

But the air between them stays cold.

🔁 Cut to: Overhead shot of the lounge, tracking camera.

Someone else is observing....

Scene: [Exterior – Balcony of the Sky tower Penthouse | Night | Neon haze glowing over the city skyline]

Jest Cain is slumped back on a cushioned seat, arms lazily spread, two stunning women beside him—laughing, touching his shoulders, pouring another drink.

He slurs slightly.

Jest Cain (laughing):

"You two are… you're like mirrors. That synchronized act… beautiful."

"Girl 1" (smiling, brushing his hair):

"That's because you're seeing double, Cain."

"Girl 2" (whispering in his ear):

"Or maybe… something sharper."

Suddenly—both women blur. They shimmer like static.

Their eyes glow for just a second.

Then SNAP—they twist together, unraveling into one form: The Fallen One.

His arm whips around and clenches around Jest Cain's throat, forcing him up against the balcony railing.

Fallen One (cold, almost amused):

"Having to shapeshift my sword into two fake women, animate them, mimic my own movements and voice… just to get you drunk and alone?"

(he tightens the chokehold)

"Really shows how much you're worth, Cain."

Jest claws weakly, struggling to gasp.

Fallen One (whispers):

"Resorts on stolen land. Hired killings. You party with blood on your ledger."

Cain's vision is flickering. His legs kick.

Fallen One:

"So here's the thing—I don't kill you yet. Not until you give me your last client.

Who. Paid. For Velrise."

The choking stops—just barely enough for Cain to cough words.

Jest Cain (wheezing):

"Y-you're a monster…"

Fallen One (leans in):

"And you're drunk. So start talking—before my patience sobers up."

[Cain gasping.]

Then—

(Fallen One):

"Name. Location. And if I hear one lie… you go over the rail." Jest Cain coughs violently, gripping the railing, eyes bloodshot.

He looks up, cracked lips curled into a cruel smile.

Jest Cain (croaking):

"It was me… all me."

(laughs, bitter and wild)

"I hired you. I wanted Velrise gone. That land? That farm? It's sitting on untapped fortune. Resorts, pipelines, money. You think anyone cares about some sentimental dirt?"

(leans forward, defiant)

"But what are you gonna do about it, huh? Is Velrise your girlfriend or something?"

(mocking tone)

"You getting soft, assassin?"

The Fallen One doesn't speak.

He just stares, the shadows clinging to him more than the light.

His hand flicks out—his sword forms in an instant, reshaping from his sleeve, gleaming silver and black.

Fallen One (low and sharp):

"No." (beat)

"But she's the only one who looked at me like I wasn't already dead."

(steps forward slowly, sword pointed downward)

"You think this is about money? About contracts?"

(voice drops to a chill)

"This is about your mouth cashing a check your heart can't afford to write."

Jest Cain tries to stumble back. He grabs a bottle—throws it.

The Fallen One catches it midair with his free hand and crushes it, glass shattering.

Fallen One:

"You wanted a killer. You got one. But not for you anymore."

(he flips the sword backward and slams the hilt into Jest's stomach—he folds over in pain, gasping)

Fallen One (leans in close):

"You're going to live, Cain. Just long enough to see everything you built crumble.

Because now, nothing will stop me from getting to the bottom of this shit."