Hm ren Fair Versus Aliens written by Harry Aspinwall. Everybody was already all life. Nobody cares about the title ren Fair Versus Aliens, Part one Exterior Battlefield day dream A battle rages, pries, clashing of steel dull as the underwater. Zoey Winter eighteen stands decked in resplendent armor, stained with mud and blood. She wears a crown. She looks around everywhere. Battle rages and her warriors are being cut down. One swordsman Ben drops to his knees, clasping a fatal gut would Another spearman Quinn, reaches out of blood soaked hand to Zoe, Please, my lady, save us. Zoe is distraught. She pulls her sword from its sheath, but doesn't know which way to turn. A berserker Bridget, face smeared with warpate, calls out to her and Queen, what do we do? Zoe hesitates, I'm sure sinister laughter resounds Quan. This is a massive armored juggernaut. The enemy general looms over her. Zoe raises her sword with shaking hands. True school enemy warriors pour out from behind the general, overwhelming her. Her sword flies from her hand and she lands heavily her ears ring. The General looms over her, stretching out a brutal armored hand. Zoe fumbles for her sword, but it's just out of reach. The ringing grows louder, too late. The General's hand closes over her face, blocking everything out. The ringing reaches a crescendo, screechy, transforming into interior Winterhouse, Zoe's bedroom day the ringing of her alarm clock. Zoe Winter, recent high school grad, drags herself messily awake. Little armored action figures with swords on her nightstand are scattered to the floor. As she tries to shut off the alarm. She grabs her calendar and looks at it blearily. Today the big day is circled. Zoe sighs. She rises and gazes straight ahead at the wall. I'm not sure about this. What should I do? On the wall is a poster of Game of Thrones hero John Snow, looking pensive as ever. You can do this, Zoe. I believe in you. She smiles, Thank you, It means a lot coming from you. She leans in to kiss the poster once, then pulls back a beat. Then she comes back in one more. She kisses the poster interior Winterhouse Kitchen day. Zoe comes downstairs very seriously practicing imaginary fight choreography sword swings with her phone. Mark Winter forties. Zoe's dad is at the counter trying to wedge a spatula into a toaster lorn in a tiger cub. What are you doing? I drop my Staples re work card in the toaster. Oh. She sits down and helps herself to a plate of bacon and eggs. On the wall. Behind her is a trophy shelf. It's completely empty save for one bronze National Latin Exam metal. I have that dream again. Yeah. Wait, and that's my insurance card. He continues to dig with a spatula. Then he registers Zoe's silence. Ummm, does you want to talk about it? He takes a carton of milk from the fridge and starts to pour it in his coffee. Everyone was dying in battle, and I was like, wait. She gestures to the milk. That's cow milk. He freezes. She takes almond milk out of the fridge and hands it to him. Anyway, I was their leader. I felt like I was responsible, Like everything rested on my shoulders. Mark taps his fingers and tries to think of something to say. Hmm, Hey, did I ever tell you about when I first started my vet Clinicay, I'd been working so long to open my own practice. The very first day there was a feline salmonilla outbreak, and I had to deal with it completely by myself. I knew I had to step up. It was all on me what happened. Mark wasn't expecting a follow up. It was all on me, all over me, Diaria, everywhere you went on the ceiling. I kept changing scrubs, but ran out before noon and spent the rest of the day wrapped in a towel. It was a disaster, worst day of life. Silence, How the heck do they make almond milk? That's just nuts? By Dad? She turns to go Zoe. For a moment, it seems like he's about to say something hardfelt. Then he holds out his truck keys bring the steed back in one piece. She grabs the keys, Mark holds onto them, then finally forces himself to let go. Exterior Winterhouse day, Zoe buckles herself into her dad's pickup truck in the driveway and starts the ignition the radio comes on automatically, ignoring it, she checks herself in the rear view mirror from a team of NASA scientists who were being told have breaking news at six point thirty nine this morning, the Department of Defense issued and notice the associated press at and almost readings. She heaves a heavy sigh, psyching herself up for the day ahead, and switches the radio to bluetooth. A heavy metal song thunders out of the vehicle. Exterior Hillsborough Street, Day, A lovely day in a small town. A gardener tends to her flower pots. An elderly man stands on the sidewalk near the fields in the local state park, waiting for his dog to finish a peeing. He looks up as the heavy metal booms down the street towards him. Recognizing Zoe, he smiles and waves. Zoe waves back and rolls on down from sleepy Little Hillsborough. Exterior Hillsborough Park Entrance day, a dirt road between trees leading into Hillsborough's Little State Park and fairground. Zoe practices her lines under her breath, false young name. Thou must know that I show one day be queen, and I show one day be queen. And trying to call up the line on her phone. She narrowly avoids careening into the ditch. A cop car sits nearby as Zoe swerves back onto the road. Two cops, Benson and Jijik, look up from their phones and wave to her. Zoe catches her breath and pulls up through a white gate. Here we go. She passes under a banner. Hillsborough Renaissance Fair opening day images of two impressive nights with gleaming swords fraying the text resplendent interior park service building day Jean Palumbo fifties. The ren Fairs King hands out wooden swords. These are what we're legally allowed to have. Use your imagination. A shabby park service building. Rows of clothing racks have been set up holding veils, doublets, hose tights, and various other articles of medieval and Renaissance garb. Zoe and her high school friend Ben Ortega eighteen are half in costume leather armour, buckled over royal ruffles. Shakily muttering the moves, Zoey practices their fight choreography with their wooden sword. Has anyone seen, Mikayla? This is getting serious Quinn Sparachello forties, a very serious historical reenactor wearing a T shirt and Jean shorts with a loud Gesture's hat emerges at Jean's shoulder. Has anyone seen the lady MICHAELA tis serious? Forsooth? Zoe presses the attack jack re post block, overhead sweep. It's clumsy and painfully deliberate, a false move, and she hits Ben in the elbow. Oh fuck, that's not historically accurate. Quinn gives Ben the side eye and adjusts as Jean shorts. Why do you care, Quinn Quinn? Who is quinn i dug an atto hot frog? The jester care because history is precious forsooth, a golden era removed from a loaf of some modern cares like social media, pop culture, crippling, crippling debt, a thousand yards stare. Zoe turns to Jean, who has his knee on the back of Bridget McMillan thirties, tough, friendly and generally disinterested, tightening up her corset. Hey, Jean, I'm not sure I'm actually ready for this. What if maybe I don't have a fight scene or like any lie, a princess without a fight scene. What kind of sense would that make a beat? But what if someone gets hurt? Look, Jean, he claps her on the shoulder. Hey, call me king, Dad. No, don't sweat the fight scene or the lines. Just have fun and leave the rest of me. I'm the king, after all, It's all on my shoulders. No one is gonna get hurt. Cut to a bird's eye view of the training field, a wider view the park, in the town, wider the whole state, the whole US Earth. Gradually, a vast alien mothership moves into view, blocking our view of the planet. Title ren Fair versus Aliens. Exterior Renfair Lane Day. A few stalls have been set up to form a lane near the park service building, selling turkey legs, fry, bread, ale and mead, and the pseudohistorical nick knacks ubiquitous to Renaissance fairs. It's very medieval kitchen. There's an archery course and a pillory nearby. Beyond is the field of battle, ready for jousting and armored combat. A horse is tied to a hitching post. There are penance everywhere. Quinn rushes past in full gesture gear, very stressed, carrying bunting well, Doug too makes great paste. He knows there be no time to haste. Zoe and Ben stride out into the lane. Ben's phone buzzes. Zoe glances over. Carrie. Hey, Ben, I'm worried. I heard on the news there's an unidentified fly. Is that Carrie Santos again? You've got to stop stringing her along, Master Ben? What is that magical device? I'm not stringing her along. I just don't want to be cruel. Literally, just tell her you're gay. No, I should let her down easy, I'll ghost her. Jeene comes over with a satchel. He confiscates Ben's phone and tosses it in before moving on to the other performers. You know the rules. You get these back when we break for lunch. I've heard there's a deal on turkey legs today. In the background, the turkey leg vender, a predictably greasy man in his fifties, picks up a turkey leg off the ground, tusts it off, tosses it back in the tray, and throws Gina thumbs up half off a cast and crew eight dollars each. Zoe bites her nails. Can you chill out a bit? This is a lot of pressure being a princess. No it isn't let them eat cake or whatever. Nearby, Bridget taps rapidly on her phone, hacking and slashing on a loud and sparkly mobile game. That was Marie Antoinette. She was decaptivated. Jean scoops up her phone and tosses it in his satchel. Kids these days in their gadgets. I'm thirty eight, dude, why did you sign up for this if you knew you'd hate it? I mean, I know you're a huge fantasy nerd Zoe looks up, Time slows down, and Ben's words fade out. In front of them is class stud Doug Kimora, eighteen, clad in tight black leather armor, practicing archery, a real vazoline on the lens. Moment Zoe is instantly sweating. Doug takes a handful of water from a barrel and wets his hair, then shakes his head, sending a thousand little droplet sparkling through the early summer sunlight. Seriously, God, just talk to him. He shoves her. Zoe stumbles toward teen hertfrop Doug, who glances over, oblivious and throws her a charming smile. Oh hey, Zoe, please you can call me yep Zoe, because that's an awkward pause. Ben looks on. Doug knocks an arrow to his bow. He holds out his phone to Zoe. Would you mind insert Doug's TikTok live stream? Hey Doug's dance. I'm here at the opening day of the Hillsborough Renaissance Fair with my super good friends and no cat. It's gonna be lit confidently, He twists and looses his arrow at the target. Zoe zums in, Wow, great shot, it's hit the outer ring. It's an okay shot. Bullseye, it's not a bullseye. Doug gestures into the lens, giving his signature catchphrase dummy. Jean's hand reaches in and plucks Doug's phone away. Don't you know these things will give you cancer? The phone drops into a dark satchel, and for a moment high above, we can see a kingly face looking in back to the fair. They're dangerous. Doug looses another arrow, which hits the frame and bounces back, spinning past his face. Are you ready for your big scene? Zoe picks up the arrow. The head is snapped clean off. She hands it to him, leaning in to covertly sniff him. I'm so nervous, I think I'm gonna throw up. Flash. Nearby is Charlie Vu twenties, a junior reporter for the local paper, holding a camera. They blink blinded. Whoops, I didn't need flash for that. Hi. I'm Charlie Vu Hillsborough Times, taking a few pictures. Quinn races through, carrying more decorations. Muster, Doug, help me with the bunting. I'll see you dudes in the field of battle. He wipes his sweaty forehead with a cloth, turns and tosses the cloth aside, sauntering off. Zoe grabs the cloth out of mid air. Do you ever get that thing where all of your autonomic bodily functions shut down for a hot minute? She sniffs the cloth, discussed and concerned battle on Ben's face. Flash, damn it? How do I turn that off? Quinn rushes past again, jingling frantically. God's blood This all, mister pollers. If that guy doesn't chill out and drop character sometime, he's going to give himself a heart attack. It's Quinn, he never ever drops character. We can all be as naturally cool as you, ben fine. I bet you he gets so stressed that he breaks character and swears today. If he does, you have to ask Doug to the summer dance. And if he doesn't, and you have to tell carry Santos the truth. Sure, Zoe sighs wearily. Okay, I guess fifteen minutes. People get ready? Come on? What's the worst that can happen? Cut to exterior Hillsborough Day montage. A shadow falls over the gardener's flower pots. The elderly man looks up from bagging dog poop. Is he the the dog a little more poop? The elderly man looks up from begging dog poop as the alien mothership to send through the clouds, he lets out a shriek. It's happening at last. On another street, a couple of teens are taking a video of some sweet skateboarding moves. One points to the sky and the other whips her phone around to start filming the spacecraft. A man eating a burger walks serenely down the street. His phone buzzes and he pulls it out Amber alert UFO in Hillsborough. He yells, hurls his burger away, and sprints down the street. Nearby, others are receiving this same alert. A couple is making out in a car nearby. As the reflection of the mothership passes over the window. The guy looks up, Oh shit, alias. He goes back to making out. An electronics store on the TV, an emergency announcement is coming live on the local TV station. The female anchor and male anchor address the camera nervously, following hundreds of reports from towns in the area of what some people are calling in alien spacecraft. He gulps and wipes his brow. There has been no official word from authorities yet on where this apparent vessel might have come from or what its passengers may want here in Hillsboro, but numerous videos circulating. She pauses, Sorry, the teleprompter's a slam from a door nearby in the studio, then the sound of a car zooming off. I can't do this. We're gonna die. We're all gonna die. He pulls off his love mic and leaps over the desk toward a camera operator, Tony, and I love you. Let the fuck on here. He kisses the operator passionately. A small crowd gazes through the window at a display of TV monitors, all showing the news station's live footage of the anchor and the camera operator making out. The footage cuts out and is replaced with a technical difficulty screen. A beat, then the crowd goes wild. People run in all directions. A couple heava trash can through the window and start monitors. A police cruiser pulls through the streets, a panicking voice blaring out of the PA system full of of Christ. Everyone remained calm. An elderly couple sitting in lawn chairs watches the craft without much interest. Goddamn Aliens. Interior Winterhouse Kitchen Day. The alien craft assumes low over houses and heads towards the woods. Nearby. Mark Winter watches through the kitchen window, mouth hanging open. Exterior Park Day. The mothership descends into the trees. A booming, vibrating shock wave resounds, and a vast dome of wavery purple energy engulfs a few miles of parkland. Exterior Hillsborough Street Day. As confusion reigns in Hillsboro, two sleek black cars and a humpy pull into town, all of government plates. Exterior police station Sheriff Schwartz fifties stands in front of the station, drinking a cup of coffee. As the convoy pulls up. Military troops pour out of the humvee, securing the entrance to the police station, and FBI agent's emerge from one black car, opening the doors of the other. Commander Cook, a special ops officer in her fifties, steps out. She's wearing sunglasses. She walks up to Schwartz and extends a hand. Military and government units swarm around them. Sheriff Schwartz, I'm Commander Katrina Cook. I'd like to be filled in on everything. Look, all I know is that about ten minutes ago a giant alien spaceship. Don't use that word, Sheriff alien. Oh what do you think? This is? The Russians. We don't know yet what we're dealing with, but look around you. Sheriff Schwartz looks around at the officers and deputies running around. Cook whips off her sunglasses. These boobs are on the edge, losing it completely. For their sake, let's not throw around provocative terms just yet, boobs. Interior Police Station Day. The FBI agents are setting up new monitors and workstations around the little office as Schwartz and Cook enter, papers are swept away and laptops set up. Coffee cups are brushed onto the trash. Papers are swept away and laptops set up. Coffee cups are brushed into the trash, and system monitors appear in their place. An old box of donuts is tossed aside, replaced with a box of fresher, more expensive donuts. They're in this for the long haul. Cook shouts out instructions while Schwartz tags along finishing his coffee. Call up any video or still footage of the object. We need to know what we're dealing with. Deputy Brunel thirties comes up with the fresh mug of coffee for Schwartz, which he switches out with his empty mugg. Brunell opens a video on his laptop. It's the skateboarding teen's footage. Look at this. They gather around in the video. One kid does a trick, then they spin to watch as the craft zooms overhead. My god, he just pulled off a perfect laser flip. Where did it go? We need to be on the ground. We think it touchdown somewhere near the state park. She turns to the agents. It's go time. I want to reconmission put together immediately. Brunel skips to pictures of the force field. A couple of minutes ago, a huge bubble appeared over the park. I've never seen anything like it. A bubble. We're guessing it might be a force field of some kind, and the uh thing is inside. Damn it. Then it's too late. They've already sealed themselves off. There must be someone inside, but who. Frustration, Brunel turns to his desk, then spots something. His eyes widened, he turns back to cooking Schwartz lifting up a flyer, Cook and Schwartz leaning to get a closer look. Hear ye, hear ye. Renaissance Fair and Hillsborough State Park opens this Saturday. Beneath the words is a caricature of a jovial armored king, obviously Jane, smiling broadly and raising a tankard. Match cut two exterior park field day. Jeane Weary lifts a massive plastic cup of iced coffee to his mouth. One of the phones in Gene Satchel starts to vibrate more and more join in one plays the game of frons theme. Jean glances down, that's a lot of snapchats. Bridget looks up at the ominous purple force field overhead. Weird weather today. Huh, Darren, who's going to joust with me? If Mikaela doesn't show up, where the hell is she cut too? Exterior Hillsborough Park Entrance day. Several cars have pulled up a the verge would be Renfair attendees or gathered around the shimmering force field. One guy with a plastic Roman helmet calls out, hey, are you guys open? Wow oop sight along the path comes an armored Knight on horseback. Mikayla thirties late for the fair. The crowd parts and watches her impressive approach. She trots up to the entrance, lowers her lance, and touches the metal point to the force field. A resounding boom echoes through the trees. Ah, I'm so hungover. Exterior Ren Fair Lane day. Benson and Jijik are eating turkey lenks. Jijik has a temporary tattoo of a battle axe on his forearm. I'm telling you you're not supposed to use a paper towel. You just gotta grab it and tear out a big bite. The boom echoes distantly. Benson looks around at the woods. Did you hear that? Oh? Not sure, Maybe we should go check the cruiser. They head towards the parking lot. From the trees nearby, A faint clicking something is watching them. Exterior parking Lot Day. Jijik is still munching his way through the turkey leg as they approached the cruiser. You owe me sixteen bucks. By the way, the car radio is going crazy, Horne. Come on, Cornet, Come in, Cornet. Benson rushes up and grabs the transponder. This is Benson, Birt. You have ten seventy at your location. Between ten seventy and your location, Benson thinks for a moment, zoo animals, aliens. Benson and Jijik turned to each other. A footfall in the gravel nearby. Benson and Jijik turned slowly. Both grab at their guns. A flash of light, two piles of ash and bones crumbled to the ground. Two badges and two guns fall on top, followed by two turkey legs. Benson, do you call me? Benson? Interior Police Station Day continuous. Brunell looks up from the transponder. We lost them. Damn it all right? Call in the artillery. Schwartz and Brunel exchange a look. Exterior Park, porta Potties day. Ben finishes peeing and starts buttoning himself up all these fucking buttons. He hears strange footsteps and weird heavy breathing nearby. Looking through the vent holes in the porta potty, he can make out a shape moving around. He finishes buttoning up and steps out. Hello, is anyone there? Wyott clicking. Someone or something is watching Ben around the side of the porta potties. Not noticing, Ben shrugs and wanders back towards the fair. Probably just perverts again. Exterior Hillsboro Street Day. A massive military tank rolls through the streets, rounding a corner and crushing a flower pot. The elderly couple is still sitting in front of their house, listening to the Beach Boys and a record player sh Interior Police station day. An FBI agent comes up to cook mettlesnake is on the ground, ma'am, call them up on the monitor. The agent taps a few keys, and a live feet of the tank operator comes up on the screen, chewing an enormous amount of gum. Whoa were born in ma'am, get in position, rattle Snake. He blows a massive bubble. Roger Penn to Hillsvero State Park. Exterior parking Lot day, whistling. Ben wanders through the parking lot. He spots a pile of bones and ash and stops footsteps. Something is following him. Huh. He keeps going. The footsteps get closer. At last, he registers them and slowly turns around. A chipness insectoid alien five or six feet tall with a bizarre gun like weapon and a shimmering purplish headshield looks back at him. Its shiny eyes blink out of sink a beat. As they stare at each other. Ben shakes his head. Man, you are at the wrong fair. He walks off, laughing to himself. Exterior Police Station Day. A bike bell rings. The military and FBI guards stand at alert. Mark Winter tears up on a BMX out of breath. The FBI agent blocks his path, Sir, this is a special operation. I cannot let you in there. Martin charges past. Hey Hey. Interior Police Station Day continuous. The live feet of the tank is still up on the screen. Rattlesnake is in position. Commander, do I take the shot before cooking. Answer. Mark bursts into the control center, panting heavily. The FBI agent hot on his heel. Please, whatever you're doing, be careful. Sorry, man, my daughter's in there. Your daughter. Yes, she's part of the rent Fair. She signed up after her friend joined and then got kast as the princess, which is actually kind of a her deal because she decided not to go to college. And I want to be cool about that, but get to the point, right, of course, I'm so bad at speaking frankly with her. But honestly, I've been worried she's not doing anything with her life, you know, Mark bullet points. Please, you're right. I think her fear of attention makes her way too self effacing, and then she falls beneath the radar. Is it wrong for me to worry that without some kind of butch, she'll just be avoiding commitment forever. She's clearly clinically afraid of responsibility. The military squad rolls their eyes. Exterior ren Fair Lane continuous. Everyone's milling around. Quinn plays with his bells. Jean has a massive crown on his head. Eight fifty nine Everyone one minute leaves crunch in the bushes. Something is sneaking up on Quinn closer, closer, until at last it leaps out. Quinn clutches his chest. Oh god, Zuks must have Benjamin really nothing. Here they come everyone. We've worked really hard for this. This is the first Renaissance Fairy Hillsborough. Goddamn it, Here they come everyone. Now, we've worked really hard for this. This is the first Renaissance Fair Hillsborough's head in twenty years, and you're the inaugural cast. This is huge. Turns to Zoe, Hey, did you see that alien costume? Guy? Actually pretty cool. I can't do this. I can't what. She begins to make her way towards Jane, Interior Police Station Day continuous. So taking this ren Fair opportunity felt like a real step toward growth, actually putting herself in a position of responsibility, but leadership even And I wish we were better at telling her how proud I am. The tank operator peers into the screen, trying to make out what's going on. The commander should I take this shot? Affirmative? Oh wait, Exterior ren Fair Lane Day continuous. We are all in this together, and I want you to know that I would do anything for you. I feel almost like a father. Do you all I'm still there? Zoe reaches Gene and his shoulder. Um, Gene, I might actually have to This is our glory day. This is the day we make guard, shoulder and proud. This is the day our destinies are truly forged. Right monologue in your majesty, I'm gonna have to go. There's an enormous boom in metallic echoing. Interior Police Station Day, continuous silence in the HQ. Mark looks aghast at the screen. A beat, then, Commander, it didn't seem to do shit. The feed cuts tystatic exterior ren Fair Lane Day, continuous. The cast gathers around Jane, looking out into the woods. That was unusual, Look everyone, customers. A sharp buzzing sound, sorry, major stomach sound, A sharp gas kids besetting stomach m A sharp buzzing sound. From the distant tree line comes a hovering pie, all shiny metal and glowing lights, nine feet long. It stops some fifty feet away, and a figure begins to emerge. Welcome to the Hills, Broad Renaissance. An alien stares at them. They look at it. It looks back as one. The reenactors draw their weapons Immediately, the alien levels its blaster and starts shooting at them. The cast scatters, glowing projectiles fly around them, vaporizing bits of stall and chunks of earth. The turkey leg vender stands up behind his stall ay. He is instantly blasted into a pile of ash and turkey bones. Exterior park field day. The cast regroups on the other side of the park services building, crouching low. What is happening? This doesn't seem very historically accurate. Quinn is hyperventilating fiercely, bells jangling with every breath, God's wounds. Who has come these housists? Oh? Come on, quiet everyone. He peers around the corner. The alien pod emerges, then zooms down the field. Jean watches in horror as the alien gets out and starts setting up some kind of antenna. Okie, doc, listen to. I don't know what that thing wants, but I guarantee you it's nothing good. All I know is that when I hire you, I made a vowl that I would keep you safe. What are you? Monologue? Right? Way far, way too long, sacrifice, way too much. This is our glory. Being king means taking responsibility. It'll be done. If I let some ali and ruin. This lends up Quinn Helm. Quinn catches the crowd as Jean flings it aside. He places a massive helmet on Jean's head. Jean leaps up, cover me with what. Jean runs to his horse. Jeane runs to his horse, tethered to a nearby post, unhitching it. He mounts and grabs his lance. The others run out from behind the building to watch for bun Up. He charges epic slow motion, intense medieval metal music starts playing, hoofs biting the earth. Lance couched, Jean's face looks up in a grimace of rage. The alien looks up. The music builds. The horse's mane flies in the wind, and a larm beats in the pond and boom, the mothership rises from behind the trees, impossibly fast with a mighty roar, and light engulfs Jean and the horse. Insert a burst of blown out sound on Doug's tik tok live feet still going this whole time cuts out, The feed flashes white and ends. After the briefest of beats, A pile of burning bones scatters across the field. The mother ship settles back behind the trees. A long pause. Charlie raises her camera to take a picture. Everyone else dashes for the Park Services building. Quinn drops to his knees. Zoe grabs him, and they followed the others. Interior Park Service Building Day. The cast huddles inside, peering out the grimy windows. That guy had all our phones. Quinn weeps on the floor, Oh, Flower of Princeton, gone, gone from this world too soon. Alack through his tears. He looks down at the crown, still clutched in his hands, Choking back sobs. He looks up. Do you know what this means? Earth, this doom? We're not getting paid. Quinn clamors to his feet. He holds out the crown towards Zoe. You're in charge now. Her eyes opened wide in horror, white. He places the crown on her head. The king is dead. Long live the Queen. She looks around. Everyone is watching her. No Interior Police Station Day. The monitor shows static. Everyone stares with bated breath. Rattlesnake, come in, rattlesnake. The feet flashes back on. Not the commander, not even a det Mark takes a huge breath. There's one more thing. A couple of minutes after impact. That don't waver like it cut out for a split second. Please don't do anything, Rash. I know the folks in there. They're super weird, but they're good people. Cook sizes him up. She turns to the monitor. Head back to base, Rattlesnake. That I'm going to get your daughter out of there, mister Winter, you have my word. There's a banging sound from the tank feed. Wait a moment, something's out there. Cook rushes back to the monitor. Rattlesnake, what is it? Come in? Interior Tank day, continuous rhythmic banging on the side of the tank. What on earth? He grabs a gun and makes his way up to the hatch. Exterior field outside Hillsboro day continuous. The tank is parked in a field near the road to the park. Not far off the force field shimmers. The hatch bangs open and the tank operator peers out gun at the ready. Next to the tank is a fully armored mounted Knight. I'll beat. Can I help you take me to your leader? Okay? Interior Park Service Building Day. The situation in the park service building is grim. Harrold shell shocked expressions. Charlie sits unnoticed near the door. Panting, She scrolls through the photos on her camera. She can't believe her luck. Aliens captured on film for the first time, but the pictures are blurry and distant. Damn too blurry. Oh curse the day. No court jester ought to lose his lee Lord office, so foul of fashion, smoke, the smellings by I fell helping. He's still really on top of that alliteration. Bridget finishes, zipping up her tracksuit. She sighs heavily, sorrowfully. What a loss. I put eighty one hours in against an impact on that phone. That's three hundred and sixty six dollars of micro transactions I'll never get back. It's cross saved on the cloud. Okay, cool, this is fine. People know we're here, right. All we have to do is wait. Quinn perks up. He rushes over to her and crouches at her feet, cracking his knuckles. What should we do, my queen, I don't know, I don't know. Your word is my command? Order me, sire? I pick concerned. Bridgid reaches out to him. Quinn dug in the hook broke, don't touch me. The bet still stands by the way what about me? So is there anything I can do for you? Ben catches her eye. Hey, what should we do? If we need? To Please stop asking me things. Just do what you think is right. I don't know. Pe A pause, Wait, where's the photographer? They look around. Charlie is gone. Worry not, your majesty, I shall discover her. Quinn quietus a shadow, bell's jangling. He darts out the door, out the window. The others see him dash covertly into the field. He'll be fine, right, Quinn creeps up to jeans remains and gingerly picks up his charred scum and regards it. He's doing that Shakespeare thing. Quinn shrieks at the top of his lungs and charges into the woods. He'll be fine. Interior Police Station day. Agents and officers hustle through the station. Phones, ring a map, lies open a big circle and pen This is the main field where they were setting up the renfare. Sheriff Schwartz drains his coffee, then nods sharply to Deputy Brunel, who swiftly switches it out for a fresh mug. Two of our officers were stationed in there, but we haven't been able to reach them in ah nearly an hour. Quiet, please, the hubbub dies down. Mister Winter, you've tried calling a loud clanking from outside? Hey, you can't. Just Mikayla, still fully armored, storms into the command center. Wow, there is absolutely no security in here, Commander Cook, with the limited visibility of her visor. She stumbles around, knocking over computer screens and stacks of documents. Hey, you can't come into a police station dressed like that? Is it illegal? A beat? I'm not sure. Brunell pulls up a book from a shelf and thrums through it, studying. I'm Cook, what do you have for me? You need to know about the renfair? I can tell you I was supposed to be in there. They regard the fully armored figure. No shit. Cook turns to Deputy Brunell. Deputy Brunelle, ma'am Deputy Brunell, disarmour this night? Okay? Exterior woods day. Charlie creeps through the undergrowth a cracking sound ahead. She ducks to the ground and peers up in a clearing a head. Two aliens are planning another antenna in the ground. Once it's set, the beacon begins pulsing the same purplish color as the shield dome. Charlie leans forward and raises her camera to take a picture. The aliens wheel around. Oh shit. Behind her, another alien figure looms exterior Hillsborough Park entrance Day. Quinn, panting slightly laughing nervously, trots through the woods. Well dogonnect to who is my name? Into making Mary is my game? Him a sudden, well, bagoneto is my name? And making Mary's my game is a side I do? Who can fight? And I am feeling terrified. He spots the shimmering barrier. Oh mighty juie. He looks at it for a second, then picks up an empty soda can and throws it Zach. The can bounces back. He picks it up and throws it again. This time he catches it. He starts getting into a rhythm throwing and catching, and he smiles nervously. A crack from the woods nearby zeus. He scurries back up the road. Exterior parking lot Day, will dagh Can I do that? Disney? And for my life I have to? I wish instead I were in bed my dime, afraid I'll soon be Something catches his ear and he jumps radio chatter. He turns and begins walking cautiously towards the police cruiser. Squar four head to Myer's Road and keep an eye on that dome. Ten for Quinn reaches the ashes and bones of the two police officers. He bends down and pulls out a gun. His bell's jangle. Interior Police Station, Day. Brunella is with the dispatch officer. Intense murmurs passed between them. Sheriff commander, we might have found something, Cook, Schwartz, MICHAELA, and Mark all gather around. Schwartz grabs the transponder. There's a clicking sound. Carneine, come in, Benson, who's there? Static? Then good? More to be continued. Should we pause for a second? Hey Jack, do you want to do each act? M

Hm ren Fair Versus Aliens written by Harry Aspinwall. Everybody was already all life. Nobody cares about the title ren Fair Versus Aliens, Part one Exterior Battlefield day dream A battle rages, pries, clashing of steel dull as the underwater. Zoey Winter eighteen stands decked in resplendent armor, stained with mud and blood. She wears a crown. She looks around everywhere. Battle rages and her warriors are being cut down. One swordsman Ben drops to his knees, clasping a fatal gut would Another spearman Quinn, reaches out of blood soaked hand to Zoe, Please, my lady, save us. Zoe is distraught. She pulls her sword from its sheath, but doesn't know which way to turn. A berserker Bridget, face smeared with warpate, calls out to her and Queen, what do we do? Zoe hesitates, I'm sure sinister laughter resounds Quan. This is a massive armored juggernaut. The enemy general looms over her. Zoe raises her sword with shaking hands. True school enemy warriors pour out from behind the general, overwhelming her. Her sword flies from her hand and she lands heavily her ears ring. The General looms over her, stretching out a brutal armored hand. Zoe fumbles for her sword, but it's just out of reach. The ringing grows louder, too late. The General's hand closes over her face, blocking everything out. The ringing reaches a crescendo, screechy, transforming into interior Winterhouse, Zoe's bedroom day the ringing of her alarm clock. Zoe Winter, recent high school grad, drags herself messily awake. Little armored action figures with swords on her nightstand are scattered to the floor. As she tries to shut off the alarm. She grabs her calendar and looks at it blearily. Today the big day is circled. Zoe sighs. She rises and gazes straight ahead at the wall. I'm not sure about this. What should I do? On the wall is a poster of Game of Thrones hero John Snow, looking pensive as ever. You can do this, Zoe. I believe in you. She smiles, Thank you, It means a lot coming from you. She leans in to kiss the poster once, then pulls back a beat. Then she comes back in one more. She kisses the poster interior Winterhouse Kitchen day. Zoe comes downstairs very seriously practicing imaginary fight choreography sword swings with her phone. Mark Winter forties. Zoe's dad is at the counter trying to wedge a spatula into a toaster lorn in a tiger cub. What are you doing? I drop my Staples re work card in the toaster. Oh. She sits down and helps herself to a plate of bacon and eggs. On the wall. Behind her is a trophy shelf. It's completely empty save for one bronze National Latin Exam metal. I have that dream again. Yeah. Wait, and that's my insurance card. He continues to dig with a spatula. Then he registers Zoe's silence. Ummm, does you want to talk about it? He takes a carton of milk from the fridge and starts to pour it in his coffee. Everyone was dying in battle, and I was like, wait. She gestures to the milk. That's cow milk. He freezes. She takes almond milk out of the fridge and hands it to him. Anyway, I was their leader. I felt like I was responsible, Like everything rested on my shoulders. Mark taps his fingers and tries to think of something to say. Hmm, Hey, did I ever tell you about when I first started my vet Clinicay, I'd been working so long to open my own practice. The very first day there was a feline salmonilla outbreak, and I had to deal with it completely by myself. I knew I had to step up. It was all on me what happened. Mark wasn't expecting a follow up. It was all on me, all over me, Diaria, everywhere you went on the ceiling. I kept changing scrubs, but ran out before noon and spent the rest of the day wrapped in a towel. It was a disaster, worst day of life. Silence, How the heck do they make almond milk? That's just nuts? By Dad? She turns to go Zoe. For a moment, it seems like he's about to say something hardfelt. Then he holds out his truck keys bring the steed back in one piece. She grabs the keys, Mark holds onto them, then finally forces himself to let go. Exterior Winterhouse day, Zoe buckles herself into her dad's pickup truck in the driveway and starts the ignition the radio comes on automatically, ignoring it, she checks herself in the rear view mirror from a team of NASA scientists who were being told have breaking news at six point thirty nine this morning, the Department of Defense issued and notice the associated press at and almost readings. She heaves a heavy sigh, psyching herself up for the day ahead, and switches the radio to bluetooth. A heavy metal song thunders out of the vehicle. Exterior Hillsborough Street, Day, A lovely day in a small town. A gardener tends to her flower pots. An elderly man stands on the sidewalk near the fields in the local state park, waiting for his dog to finish a peeing. He looks up as the heavy metal booms down the street towards him. Recognizing Zoe, he smiles and waves. Zoe waves back and rolls on down from sleepy Little Hillsborough. Exterior Hillsborough Park Entrance day, a dirt road between trees leading into Hillsborough's Little State Park and fairground. Zoe practices her lines under her breath, false young name. Thou must know that I show one day be queen, and I show one day be queen. And trying to call up the line on her phone. She narrowly avoids careening into the ditch. A cop car sits nearby as Zoe swerves back onto the road. Two cops, Benson and Jijik, look up from their phones and wave to her. Zoe catches her breath and pulls up through a white gate. Here we go. She passes under a banner. Hillsborough Renaissance Fair opening day images of two impressive nights with gleaming swords fraying the text resplendent interior park service building day Jean Palumbo fifties. The ren Fairs King hands out wooden swords. These are what we're legally allowed to have. Use your imagination. A shabby park service building. Rows of clothing racks have been set up holding veils, doublets, hose tights, and various other articles of medieval and Renaissance garb. Zoe and her high school friend Ben Ortega eighteen are half in costume leather armour, buckled over royal ruffles. Shakily muttering the moves, Zoey practices their fight choreography with their wooden sword. Has anyone seen, Mikayla? This is getting serious Quinn Sparachello forties, a very serious historical reenactor wearing a T shirt and Jean shorts with a loud Gesture's hat emerges at Jean's shoulder. Has anyone seen the lady MICHAELA tis serious? Forsooth? Zoe presses the attack jack re post block, overhead sweep. It's clumsy and painfully deliberate, a false move, and she hits Ben in the elbow. Oh fuck, that's not historically accurate. Quinn gives Ben the side eye and adjusts as Jean shorts. Why do you care, Quinn Quinn? Who is quinn i dug an atto hot frog? The jester care because history is precious forsooth, a golden era removed from a loaf of some modern cares like social media, pop culture, crippling, crippling debt, a thousand yards stare. Zoe turns to Jean, who has his knee on the back of Bridget McMillan thirties, tough, friendly and generally disinterested, tightening up her corset. Hey, Jean, I'm not sure I'm actually ready for this. What if maybe I don't have a fight scene or like any lie, a princess without a fight scene. What kind of sense would that make a beat? But what if someone gets hurt? Look, Jean, he claps her on the shoulder. Hey, call me king, Dad. No, don't sweat the fight scene or the lines. Just have fun and leave the rest of me. I'm the king, after all, It's all on my shoulders. No one is gonna get hurt. Cut to a bird's eye view of the training field, a wider view the park, in the town, wider the whole state, the whole US Earth. Gradually, a vast alien mothership moves into view, blocking our view of the planet. Title ren Fair versus Aliens. Exterior Renfair Lane Day. A few stalls have been set up to form a lane near the park service building, selling turkey legs, fry, bread, ale and mead, and the pseudohistorical nick knacks ubiquitous to Renaissance fairs. It's very medieval kitchen. There's an archery course and a pillory nearby. Beyond is the field of battle, ready for jousting and armored combat. A horse is tied to a hitching post. There are penance everywhere. Quinn rushes past in full gesture gear, very stressed, carrying bunting well, Doug too makes great paste. He knows there be no time to haste. Zoe and Ben stride out into the lane. Ben's phone buzzes. Zoe glances over. Carrie. Hey, Ben, I'm worried. I heard on the news there's an unidentified fly. Is that Carrie Santos again? You've got to stop stringing her along, Master Ben? What is that magical device? I'm not stringing her along. I just don't want to be cruel. Literally, just tell her you're gay. No, I should let her down easy, I'll ghost her. Jeene comes over with a satchel. He confiscates Ben's phone and tosses it in before moving on to the other performers. You know the rules. You get these back when we break for lunch. I've heard there's a deal on turkey legs today. In the background, the turkey leg vender, a predictably greasy man in his fifties, picks up a turkey leg off the ground, tusts it off, tosses it back in the tray, and throws Gina thumbs up half off a cast and crew eight dollars each. Zoe bites her nails. Can you chill out a bit? This is a lot of pressure being a princess. No it isn't let them eat cake or whatever. Nearby, Bridget taps rapidly on her phone, hacking and slashing on a loud and sparkly mobile game. That was Marie Antoinette. She was decaptivated. Jean scoops up her phone and tosses it in his satchel. Kids these days in their gadgets. I'm thirty eight, dude, why did you sign up for this if you knew you'd hate it? I mean, I know you're a huge fantasy nerd Zoe looks up, Time slows down, and Ben's words fade out. In front of them is class stud Doug Kimora, eighteen, clad in tight black leather armor, practicing archery, a real vazoline on the lens. Moment Zoe is instantly sweating. Doug takes a handful of water from a barrel and wets his hair, then shakes his head, sending a thousand little droplet sparkling through the early summer sunlight. Seriously, God, just talk to him. He shoves her. Zoe stumbles toward teen hertfrop Doug, who glances over, oblivious and throws her a charming smile. Oh hey, Zoe, please you can call me yep Zoe, because that's an awkward pause. Ben looks on. Doug knocks an arrow to his bow. He holds out his phone to Zoe. Would you mind insert Doug's TikTok live stream? Hey Doug's dance. I'm here at the opening day of the Hillsborough Renaissance Fair with my super good friends and no cat. It's gonna be lit confidently, He twists and looses his arrow at the target. Zoe zums in, Wow, great shot, it's hit the outer ring. It's an okay shot. Bullseye, it's not a bullseye. Doug gestures into the lens, giving his signature catchphrase dummy. Jean's hand reaches in and plucks Doug's phone away. Don't you know these things will give you cancer? The phone drops into a dark satchel, and for a moment high above, we can see a kingly face looking in back to the fair. They're dangerous. Doug looses another arrow, which hits the frame and bounces back, spinning past his face. Are you ready for your big scene? Zoe picks up the arrow. The head is snapped clean off. She hands it to him, leaning in to covertly sniff him. I'm so nervous, I think I'm gonna throw up. Flash. Nearby is Charlie Vu twenties, a junior reporter for the local paper, holding a camera. They blink blinded. Whoops, I didn't need flash for that. Hi. I'm Charlie Vu Hillsborough Times, taking a few pictures. Quinn races through, carrying more decorations. Muster, Doug, help me with the bunting. I'll see you dudes in the field of battle. He wipes his sweaty forehead with a cloth, turns and tosses the cloth aside, sauntering off. Zoe grabs the cloth out of mid air. Do you ever get that thing where all of your autonomic bodily functions shut down for a hot minute? She sniffs the cloth, discussed and concerned battle on Ben's face. Flash, damn it? How do I turn that off? Quinn rushes past again, jingling frantically. God's blood This all, mister pollers. If that guy doesn't chill out and drop character sometime, he's going to give himself a heart attack. It's Quinn, he never ever drops character. We can all be as naturally cool as you, ben fine. I bet you he gets so stressed that he breaks character and swears today. If he does, you have to ask Doug to the summer dance. And if he doesn't, and you have to tell carry Santos the truth. Sure, Zoe sighs wearily. Okay, I guess fifteen minutes. People get ready? Come on? What's the worst that can happen? Cut to exterior Hillsborough Day montage. A shadow falls over the gardener's flower pots. The elderly man looks up from bagging dog poop. Is he the the dog a little more poop? The elderly man looks up from begging dog poop as the alien mothership to send through the clouds, he lets out a shriek. It's happening at last. On another street, a couple of teens are taking a video of some sweet skateboarding moves. One points to the sky and the other whips her phone around to start filming the spacecraft. A man eating a burger walks serenely down the street. His phone buzzes and he pulls it out Amber alert UFO in Hillsborough. He yells, hurls his burger away, and sprints down the street. Nearby, others are receiving this same alert. A couple is making out in a car nearby. As the reflection of the mothership passes over the window. The guy looks up, Oh shit, alias. He goes back to making out. An electronics store on the TV, an emergency announcement is coming live on the local TV station. The female anchor and male anchor address the camera nervously, following hundreds of reports from towns in the area of what some people are calling in alien spacecraft. He gulps and wipes his brow. There has been no official word from authorities yet on where this apparent vessel might have come from or what its passengers may want here in Hillsboro, but numerous videos circulating. She pauses, Sorry, the teleprompter's a slam from a door nearby in the studio, then the sound of a car zooming off. I can't do this. We're gonna die. We're all gonna die. He pulls off his love mic and leaps over the desk toward a camera operator, Tony, and I love you. Let the fuck on here. He kisses the operator passionately. A small crowd gazes through the window at a display of TV monitors, all showing the news station's live footage of the anchor and the camera operator making out. The footage cuts out and is replaced with a technical difficulty screen. A beat, then the crowd goes wild. People run in all directions. A couple heava trash can through the window and start monitors. A police cruiser pulls through the streets, a panicking voice blaring out of the PA system full of of Christ. Everyone remained calm. An elderly couple sitting in lawn chairs watches the craft without much interest. Goddamn Aliens. Interior Winterhouse Kitchen Day. The alien craft assumes low over houses and heads towards the woods. Nearby. Mark Winter watches through the kitchen window, mouth hanging open. Exterior Park Day. The mothership descends into the trees. A booming, vibrating shock wave resounds, and a vast dome of wavery purple energy engulfs a few miles of parkland. Exterior Hillsborough Street Day. As confusion reigns in Hillsboro, two sleek black cars and a humpy pull into town, all of government plates. Exterior police station Sheriff Schwartz fifties stands in front of the station, drinking a cup of coffee. As the convoy pulls up. Military troops pour out of the humvee, securing the entrance to the police station, and FBI agent's emerge from one black car, opening the doors of the other. Commander Cook, a special ops officer in her fifties, steps out. She's wearing sunglasses. She walks up to Schwartz and extends a hand. Military and government units swarm around them. Sheriff Schwartz, I'm Commander Katrina Cook. I'd like to be filled in on everything. Look, all I know is that about ten minutes ago a giant alien spaceship. Don't use that word, Sheriff alien. Oh what do you think? This is? The Russians. We don't know yet what we're dealing with, but look around you. Sheriff Schwartz looks around at the officers and deputies running around. Cook whips off her sunglasses. These boobs are on the edge, losing it completely. For their sake, let's not throw around provocative terms just yet, boobs. Interior Police Station Day. The FBI agents are setting up new monitors and workstations around the little office as Schwartz and Cook enter, papers are swept away and laptops set up. Coffee cups are brushed onto the trash. Papers are swept away and laptops set up. Coffee cups are brushed into the trash, and system monitors appear in their place. An old box of donuts is tossed aside, replaced with a box of fresher, more expensive donuts. They're in this for the long haul. Cook shouts out instructions while Schwartz tags along finishing his coffee. Call up any video or still footage of the object. We need to know what we're dealing with. Deputy Brunel thirties comes up with the fresh mug of coffee for Schwartz, which he switches out with his empty mugg. Brunell opens a video on his laptop. It's the skateboarding teen's footage. Look at this. They gather around in the video. One kid does a trick, then they spin to watch as the craft zooms overhead. My god, he just pulled off a perfect laser flip. Where did it go? We need to be on the ground. We think it touchdown somewhere near the state park. She turns to the agents. It's go time. I want to reconmission put together immediately. Brunel skips to pictures of the force field. A couple of minutes ago, a huge bubble appeared over the park. I've never seen anything like it. A bubble. We're guessing it might be a force field of some kind, and the uh thing is inside. Damn it. Then it's too late. They've already sealed themselves off. There must be someone inside, but who. Frustration, Brunel turns to his desk, then spots something. His eyes widened, he turns back to cooking Schwartz lifting up a flyer, Cook and Schwartz leaning to get a closer look. Hear ye, hear ye. Renaissance Fair and Hillsborough State Park opens this Saturday. Beneath the words is a caricature of a jovial armored king, obviously Jane, smiling broadly and raising a tankard. Match cut two exterior park field day. Jeane Weary lifts a massive plastic cup of iced coffee to his mouth. One of the phones in Gene Satchel starts to vibrate more and more join in one plays the game of frons theme. Jean glances down, that's a lot of snapchats. Bridget looks up at the ominous purple force field overhead. Weird weather today. Huh, Darren, who's going to joust with me? If Mikaela doesn't show up, where the hell is she cut too? Exterior Hillsborough Park Entrance day. Several cars have pulled up a the verge would be Renfair attendees or gathered around the shimmering force field. One guy with a plastic Roman helmet calls out, hey, are you guys open? Wow oop sight along the path comes an armored Knight on horseback. Mikayla thirties late for the fair. The crowd parts and watches her impressive approach. She trots up to the entrance, lowers her lance, and touches the metal point to the force field. A resounding boom echoes through the trees. Ah, I'm so hungover. Exterior Ren Fair Lane day. Benson and Jijik are eating turkey lenks. Jijik has a temporary tattoo of a battle axe on his forearm. I'm telling you you're not supposed to use a paper towel. You just gotta grab it and tear out a big bite. The boom echoes distantly. Benson looks around at the woods. Did you hear that? Oh? Not sure, Maybe we should go check the cruiser. They head towards the parking lot. From the trees nearby, A faint clicking something is watching them. Exterior parking Lot Day. Jijik is still munching his way through the turkey leg as they approached the cruiser. You owe me sixteen bucks. By the way, the car radio is going crazy, Horne. Come on, Cornet, Come in, Cornet. Benson rushes up and grabs the transponder. This is Benson, Birt. You have ten seventy at your location. Between ten seventy and your location, Benson thinks for a moment, zoo animals, aliens. Benson and Jijik turned to each other. A footfall in the gravel nearby. Benson and Jijik turned slowly. Both grab at their guns. A flash of light, two piles of ash and bones crumbled to the ground. Two badges and two guns fall on top, followed by two turkey legs. Benson, do you call me? Benson? Interior Police Station Day continuous. Brunell looks up from the transponder. We lost them. Damn it all right? Call in the artillery. Schwartz and Brunel exchange a look. Exterior Park, porta Potties day. Ben finishes peeing and starts buttoning himself up all these fucking buttons. He hears strange footsteps and weird heavy breathing nearby. Looking through the vent holes in the porta potty, he can make out a shape moving around. He finishes buttoning up and steps out. Hello, is anyone there? Wyott clicking. Someone or something is watching Ben around the side of the porta potties. Not noticing, Ben shrugs and wanders back towards the fair. Probably just perverts again. Exterior Hillsboro Street Day. A massive military tank rolls through the streets, rounding a corner and crushing a flower pot. The elderly couple is still sitting in front of their house, listening to the Beach Boys and a record player sh Interior Police station day. An FBI agent comes up to cook mettlesnake is on the ground, ma'am, call them up on the monitor. The agent taps a few keys, and a live feet of the tank operator comes up on the screen, chewing an enormous amount of gum. Whoa were born in ma'am, get in position, rattle Snake. He blows a massive bubble. Roger Penn to Hillsvero State Park. Exterior parking Lot day, whistling. Ben wanders through the parking lot. He spots a pile of bones and ash and stops footsteps. Something is following him. Huh. He keeps going. The footsteps get closer. At last, he registers them and slowly turns around. A chipness insectoid alien five or six feet tall with a bizarre gun like weapon and a shimmering purplish headshield looks back at him. Its shiny eyes blink out of sink a beat. As they stare at each other. Ben shakes his head. Man, you are at the wrong fair. He walks off, laughing to himself. Exterior Police Station Day. A bike bell rings. The military and FBI guards stand at alert. Mark Winter tears up on a BMX out of breath. The FBI agent blocks his path, Sir, this is a special operation. I cannot let you in there. Martin charges past. Hey Hey. Interior Police Station Day continuous. The live feet of the tank is still up on the screen. Rattlesnake is in position. Commander, do I take the shot before cooking. Answer. Mark bursts into the control center, panting heavily. The FBI agent hot on his heel. Please, whatever you're doing, be careful. Sorry, man, my daughter's in there. Your daughter. Yes, she's part of the rent Fair. She signed up after her friend joined and then got kast as the princess, which is actually kind of a her deal because she decided not to go to college. And I want to be cool about that, but get to the point, right, of course, I'm so bad at speaking frankly with her. But honestly, I've been worried she's not doing anything with her life, you know, Mark bullet points. Please, you're right. I think her fear of attention makes her way too self effacing, and then she falls beneath the radar. Is it wrong for me to worry that without some kind of butch, she'll just be avoiding commitment forever. She's clearly clinically afraid of responsibility. The military squad rolls their eyes. Exterior ren Fair Lane continuous. Everyone's milling around. Quinn plays with his bells. Jean has a massive crown on his head. Eight fifty nine Everyone one minute leaves crunch in the bushes. Something is sneaking up on Quinn closer, closer, until at last it leaps out. Quinn clutches his chest. Oh god, Zuks must have Benjamin really nothing. Here they come everyone. We've worked really hard for this. This is the first Renaissance Fairy Hillsborough. Goddamn it, Here they come everyone. Now, we've worked really hard for this. This is the first Renaissance Fair Hillsborough's head in twenty years, and you're the inaugural cast. This is huge. Turns to Zoe, Hey, did you see that alien costume? Guy? Actually pretty cool. I can't do this. I can't what. She begins to make her way towards Jane, Interior Police Station Day continuous. So taking this ren Fair opportunity felt like a real step toward growth, actually putting herself in a position of responsibility, but leadership even And I wish we were better at telling her how proud I am. The tank operator peers into the screen, trying to make out what's going on. The commander should I take this shot? Affirmative? Oh wait, Exterior ren Fair Lane Day continuous. We are all in this together, and I want you to know that I would do anything for you. I feel almost like a father. Do you all I'm still there? Zoe reaches Gene and his shoulder. Um, Gene, I might actually have to This is our glory day. This is the day we make guard, shoulder and proud. This is the day our destinies are truly forged. Right monologue in your majesty, I'm gonna have to go. There's an enormous boom in metallic echoing. Interior Police Station Day, continuous silence in the HQ. Mark looks aghast at the screen. A beat, then, Commander, it didn't seem to do shit. The feed cuts tystatic exterior ren Fair Lane Day, continuous. The cast gathers around Jane, looking out into the woods. That was unusual, Look everyone, customers. A sharp buzzing sound, sorry, major stomach sound, A sharp gas kids besetting stomach m A sharp buzzing sound. From the distant tree line comes a hovering pie, all shiny metal and glowing lights, nine feet long. It stops some fifty feet away, and a figure begins to emerge. Welcome to the Hills, Broad Renaissance. An alien stares at them. They look at it. It looks back as one. The reenactors draw their weapons Immediately, the alien levels its blaster and starts shooting at them. The cast scatters, glowing projectiles fly around them, vaporizing bits of stall and chunks of earth. The turkey leg vender stands up behind his stall ay. He is instantly blasted into a pile of ash and turkey bones. Exterior park field day. The cast regroups on the other side of the park services building, crouching low. What is happening? This doesn't seem very historically accurate. Quinn is hyperventilating fiercely, bells jangling with every breath, God's wounds. Who has come these housists? Oh? Come on, quiet everyone. He peers around the corner. The alien pod emerges, then zooms down the field. Jean watches in horror as the alien gets out and starts setting up some kind of antenna. Okie, doc, listen to. I don't know what that thing wants, but I guarantee you it's nothing good. All I know is that when I hire you, I made a vowl that I would keep you safe. What are you? Monologue? Right? Way far, way too long, sacrifice, way too much. This is our glory. Being king means taking responsibility. It'll be done. If I let some ali and ruin. This lends up Quinn Helm. Quinn catches the crowd as Jean flings it aside. He places a massive helmet on Jean's head. Jean leaps up, cover me with what. Jean runs to his horse. Jeane runs to his horse, tethered to a nearby post, unhitching it. He mounts and grabs his lance. The others run out from behind the building to watch for bun Up. He charges epic slow motion, intense medieval metal music starts playing, hoofs biting the earth. Lance couched, Jean's face looks up in a grimace of rage. The alien looks up. The music builds. The horse's mane flies in the wind, and a larm beats in the pond and boom, the mothership rises from behind the trees, impossibly fast with a mighty roar, and light engulfs Jean and the horse. Insert a burst of blown out sound on Doug's tik tok live feet still going this whole time cuts out, The feed flashes white and ends. After the briefest of beats, A pile of burning bones scatters across the field. The mother ship settles back behind the trees. A long pause. Charlie raises her camera to take a picture. Everyone else dashes for the Park Services building. Quinn drops to his knees. Zoe grabs him, and they followed the others. Interior Park Service Building Day. The cast huddles inside, peering out the grimy windows. That guy had all our phones. Quinn weeps on the floor, Oh, Flower of Princeton, gone, gone from this world too soon. Alack through his tears. He looks down at the crown, still clutched in his hands, Choking back sobs. He looks up. Do you know what this means? Earth, this doom? We're not getting paid. Quinn clamors to his feet. He holds out the crown towards Zoe. You're in charge now. Her eyes opened wide in horror, white. He places the crown on her head. The king is dead. Long live the Queen. She looks around. Everyone is watching her. No Interior Police Station Day. The monitor shows static. Everyone stares with bated breath. Rattlesnake, come in, rattlesnake. The feet flashes back on. Not the commander, not even a det Mark takes a huge breath. There's one more thing. A couple of minutes after impact. That don't waver like it cut out for a split second. Please don't do anything, Rash. I know the folks in there. They're super weird, but they're good people. Cook sizes him up. She turns to the monitor. Head back to base, Rattlesnake. That I'm going to get your daughter out of there, mister Winter, you have my word. There's a banging sound from the tank feed. Wait a moment, something's out there. Cook rushes back to the monitor. Rattlesnake, what is it? Come in? Interior Tank day, continuous rhythmic banging on the side of the tank. What on earth? He grabs a gun and makes his way up to the hatch. Exterior field outside Hillsboro day continuous. The tank is parked in a field near the road to the park. Not far off the force field shimmers. The hatch bangs open and the tank operator peers out gun at the ready. Next to the tank is a fully armored mounted Knight. I'll beat. Can I help you take me to your leader? Okay? Interior Park Service Building Day. The situation in the park service building is grim. Harrold shell shocked expressions. Charlie sits unnoticed near the door. Panting, She scrolls through the photos on her camera. She can't believe her luck. Aliens captured on film for the first time, but the pictures are blurry and distant. Damn too blurry. Oh curse the day. No court jester ought to lose his lee Lord office, so foul of fashion, smoke, the smellings by I fell helping. He's still really on top of that alliteration. Bridget finishes, zipping up her tracksuit. She sighs heavily, sorrowfully. What a loss. I put eighty one hours in against an impact on that phone. That's three hundred and sixty six dollars of micro transactions I'll never get back. It's cross saved on the cloud. Okay, cool, this is fine. People know we're here, right. All we have to do is wait. Quinn perks up. He rushes over to her and crouches at her feet, cracking his knuckles. What should we do, my queen, I don't know, I don't know. Your word is my command? Order me, sire? I pick concerned. Bridgid reaches out to him. Quinn dug in the hook broke, don't touch me. The bet still stands by the way what about me? So is there anything I can do for you? Ben catches her eye. Hey, what should we do? If we need? To Please stop asking me things. Just do what you think is right. I don't know. Pe A pause, Wait, where's the photographer? They look around. Charlie is gone. Worry not, your majesty, I shall discover her. Quinn quietus a shadow, bell's jangling. He darts out the door, out the window. The others see him dash covertly into the field. He'll be fine, right, Quinn creeps up to jeans remains and gingerly picks up his charred scum and regards it. He's doing that Shakespeare thing. Quinn shrieks at the top of his lungs and charges into the woods. He'll be fine. Interior Police Station day. Agents and officers hustle through the station. Phones, ring a map, lies open a big circle and pen This is the main field where they were setting up the renfare. Sheriff Schwartz drains his coffee, then nods sharply to Deputy Brunel, who swiftly switches it out for a fresh mug. Two of our officers were stationed in there, but we haven't been able to reach them in ah nearly an hour. Quiet, please, the hubbub dies down. Mister Winter, you've tried calling a loud clanking from outside? Hey, you can't. Just Mikayla, still fully armored, storms into the command center. Wow, there is absolutely no security in here, Commander Cook, with the limited visibility of her visor. She stumbles around, knocking over computer screens and stacks of documents. Hey, you can't come into a police station dressed like that? Is it illegal? A beat? I'm not sure. Brunell pulls up a book from a shelf and thrums through it, studying. I'm Cook, what do you have for me? You need to know about the renfair? I can tell you I was supposed to be in there. They regard the fully armored figure. No shit. Cook turns to Deputy Brunell. Deputy Brunelle, ma'am Deputy Brunell, disarmour this night? Okay? Exterior woods day. Charlie creeps through the undergrowth a cracking sound ahead. She ducks to the ground and peers up in a clearing a head. Two aliens are planning another antenna in the ground. Once it's set, the beacon begins pulsing the same purplish color as the shield dome. Charlie leans forward and raises her camera to take a picture. The aliens wheel around. Oh shit. Behind her, another alien figure looms exterior Hillsborough Park entrance Day. Quinn, panting slightly laughing nervously, trots through the woods. Well dogonnect to who is my name? Into making Mary is my game? Him a sudden, well, bagoneto is my name? And making Mary's my game is a side I do? Who can fight? And I am feeling terrified. He spots the shimmering barrier. Oh mighty juie. He looks at it for a second, then picks up an empty soda can and throws it Zach. The can bounces back. He picks it up and throws it again. This time he catches it. He starts getting into a rhythm throwing and catching, and he smiles nervously. A crack from the woods nearby zeus. He scurries back up the road. Exterior parking lot Day, will dagh Can I do that? Disney? And for my life I have to? I wish instead I were in bed my dime, afraid I'll soon be Something catches his ear and he jumps radio chatter. He turns and begins walking cautiously towards the police cruiser. Squar four head to Myer's Road and keep an eye on that dome. Ten for Quinn reaches the ashes and bones of the two police officers. He bends down and pulls out a gun. His bell's jangle. Interior Police Station, Day. Brunella is with the dispatch officer. Intense murmurs passed between them. Sheriff commander, we might have found something, Cook, Schwartz, MICHAELA, and Mark all gather around. Schwartz grabs the transponder. There's a clicking sound. Carneine, come in, Benson, who's there? Static? Then good? More to be continued. Should we pause for a second? Hey Jack, do you want to do each act? M