the ballad of dean rockwell issue #2 - cloud object storage · the ballad of dean rockwell issue #2...

The Ballad of Dean Rockwell Issue #2

"Track 02: The Devil's Lament (Side A)"

Written by Matthew Welfley

PAGE ONE

Panel 1: We are looking at a night sky, its hue an illuminating blue, with some clouds and stars visible. A very thoughtful and introspective panel, where we can look to the past...but also to the future...

JOHN ROCKWELL (VO):C’mere, Dean. It’s high time we have that talk of ours...

Panel 2: Long shot of a nighttime desert. We can make out some hills, perhaps a small mountain ridge or two.

DEAN ROCKWELL (VO):...about The Lost Colony. About you...

The Ballad of Dean Rockwell Issue #2: "Track 02: The Devil's Lament (Side A)" 1

PAGE TWO

Panel 1: FLASHBACK panel. Greyscale. A 10-year-old Dean stands behind the shoulder of his Father, who is shrouded in a hazy, dark memory.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Yes, sir?

Panel 2: FLASHBACK. From Dean’s point of view, JOHN ROCKWELL sits on his rocking chair facing the desert expanse. The sun is shining, the clouds are out. It’s a beautiful memory, save for the fact that his dad is silhouetted by the light of the midday sun. He wears a black duster, a brimmed hat, his hair slicked back a bit. Peaking out from his lap is the neck of Rosie, who appears in this flashback as a dull red color (she is the most prominent part of this memory for Dean, as we will soon find out that everything indirectly revolves around her mythos).

JOHN ROCKWELL:I’ve told you how important our gang is to this land. Every town and every troubled soul in Blood Valley look to us for protection...for guidance. For proof...


PAGE THREE

Panel 1: We are looking downward at the desert from the perspective of a rocky ridge. In the background, a motorcycle’s light cuts through the darkness as it rides through the night. In the forefront (panel-right), a strange hard-skinned desert creature perches on a rock and watches. It is an Oglog. Though, it’s facing away from the camera, and so we cannot see its Oglog face.

JOHN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):...that morality and peace can still exist in a broken world...

Panel 2: EXACT panel as above, except Dean has driven a little further, and the Ogloghas turned its head to awkwardly face the camera.

JOHN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):...despite the past that shrouds it in darkness.

OGLOG:Oglog.

Panel 3: A large panel featuring a FULL SHOT of Dean riding his hog, its light glaring partly toward the camera. He’s angry as hell, but looks tired. Beaten. Defeated. Like he’s in some pain. Beads of sweat on his brow, and a little pale. Right hand on the throttle. Left hand holding the wound on his side.

JOHN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):You see, it’s up to us to look past their flaws and transgressions...

Panel 4: LS of a the top half of a bright and monstrous moon rising from the horizon. The silhouette of Dean rides across its face, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

JOHN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):...and be their beacon of light when all others have failed.


PAGE FOUR

Panel 1: Another FULL SHOT of Dean, though now he looks groggy, his eyelids heavy and half-closed. He’s having a hard time keeping it together. And he’s kind of slumping to the side.

JOHN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):Only then will they fight for their future. Only then will The Lost Colony fulfill its duty...

Panel 2: CLOSE UP of Dean’s hand pressing against his stab wound, blood trickling through his fingers.

JOHN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):But the hard truth of it is...there’ll come a day when I won’t be here to see it through...

Panel 3. FLASHBACK. Medium shot of John sitting on the porch, the sun glaring into frame, blinding us to his face and figure. We can still make out a dull red Rosie, however...

JOHN ROCKWELL:The Colony needs a great leader. One who they can look to in times of strife. Who’ll be their light when the days are dark.

Panel 4: Dean begins to pass out, and literally slumps off the side of his bike as it goes full speed.

JOHN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):And when that day comes, Dean...

Panel 5: LS of Dean hitting the hard ground, his bike crashing HARD in front of him.

Panel 6: BLACKNESS.

JOHN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):...they will look to you to lead them.


PAGE FIVE

Panel 1: TITLE PAGE

CAPTION:Track 02: “The Devil’s Lament” (Side A)


PAGE SIX

Panel 1: CU. MURPHY’S gloved hand revving the handle of a Lost Colony hog.

SFX:VROOmglugluglug

Panel 2: CU of a muffler of Murphy’s bike spitting out some fumes.

SFX:Popf, popf

Panel 3: MURPHY sits on his bike in a confident yet chill manner, his one hand on a handlebar. With an eyepatch and mustache, he’s one badass motherfucka. He and his bike take up much of the frame. RILES, a strange and quirky (yet noble) rat-person, sits on his own bike beside his comrade. He is doing a bit of a fist-pump, and has a pumped, invigorating look on his face.

RILES:Woo! Yet another desert excursion! This thrills me!

Panel 4: Similar group shot, but zoomed out. Standing to face the two comrades are Dean and his right hand DENNIS. Nearby a Lost Colony guardsmen stands ready on a small gate tower, rifle in hand. Murphy is shooting his partner a questioning glance. Riles smirks, as he’s still excited for his next outing. He’s even lifting his head a little, and closing his eyes as if to reflect his dialogue.

MURPHY:Shit, Riles. You act like you never get to leave base.

RILES (RESPONSE):It’s been far too long since I’ve felt the wind on my ears, the sun on my snout.

Panel 5: Similar GS. Murphy now looks confused in a light-hearted, humorous kind of way.

MURPHY:It’s been two days!


RILES (RESPONSE):Yes...two days of gratuitous boredom!


PAGE SEVEN

Panel 1: Simlar GS. Murphy looks slightly irritated, but again in a lighthearted way. And Riles looks a bit defensive, pointing an accusative finger at his partner, and snarling out his dialogue.

MURPHY:Sometimes I wonder why I even take you on these scoutings with me.

RILES (RESPONSE):You would be six feet under without me, cyclops. You know this. I know this. The shaded one knows it, too!

Panel 2: Cut to a MS, where Dean gives a humorous smile. He enjoys the banter between these two. It’s comical, and it helps him forget of the crimes and environmental dangers that make the outside world an often grim and hopeless place. Dennis stands at his side, giving an old man smirk.

DEAN ROCKWELL:I’m afraid he’s right, Murph. He’s had your back more than just a few times.

Panel 3: Dennis is smiling. Just like Dean, he loves messing with these two guys. Murphy speaks in a convincing manner. Not to convince the others, necessarily, as they remember the embarrassing moment...but instead to convince himself that his high-pitched, girl-like calls for help that day were justified. His head is raised in a sophisticated manner as he straps on his helmet.

DENNIS:I recall a certain event regarding a rock basilisk and Murphy crying out for his partner’s rescue. A damsel in distress, if I say so myself!

MURPHY (RESPONSE):It was five feet long. Teeth the size of my hand. C’mon man. My screams were justified. You guys never gonna let that one go, are you?

Panel 4: GS. Dean remains humored by the conversation. Murphy and Riles do the signature Lost Colony hand-motion, which consists of a fist to the chest (or similar).

DEAN ROCKWELL:Not a chance, my man. Good luck, you two. Let me know what you can dig up.


MURPHY (RESPONSE):You got it, Rockwell.

Panel 5: GS. Murphy and Riles sit on their bikes, holding the handlebars, and begins rev up their bikes. Dean and Dennis return the LC hand motion.

MURPHY:Alright, Riles. Let’s roll out.

RILES:Finally, yes!


PAGE EIGHT

Panel 1: Perspective from behind the back of Dean and Dennis’ heads, as they watch Murphy and Riles ride out beyond the Lost Colony gates in the background.

DEAN ROCKWELL:I know that look on your face. You’re troubled.

Panel 2: LS -Opposite perspective. Dean turns around to begin his walk, but Dennis is hesitant, still looking forward in a foreboding manner, almost mirroring how Dean is still a little bit more comfortable shrugging off possible risks and dangers. Dennis just lets out a grumble.

Panel 3: EXTREME LONG SHOT - Now both of them are walking up along the main road, which is sandwiched by concrete/steel buildings on either side (storage building, garages, bunkers, etc). Some Lost Colony bikesmen can be seen walking around, working in garages, and conversing in small groups.

DENNIS:We’ve sent out more men in the last week than we might in three month’s time. Our numbers at base are growing thin...

Panel 4: LS. Perspective from inside a garage, with a ripped Colony dude getting a tatoo on his arm in a garage. The utensil is crude, and is hooked up via a tube that runs to some weird compression tank. Pretty biker-like. In the background, Dean and Dennis continue their walk from panel-left to panel-right.

DEAN ROCKWELL:What are we supposed to do? We can’t just turn our backs on everyone in the Valley.

DENNIS (RESPONSE):Make no mistake, keeping the local gangs in check and suppressing violence ispriority. But we have nearly half our squads stationed out there just to do so.

Panel 5: The walk continues. Similar shot. Two Lost Colony Soldiers named BIGGS(male) and WILSON (female), are in frame kind of off to the side, giving the Lost Colony hand signal. Dean kind of nods at them and does it back. He’s quite respected as leader.


LOST COLONY SOLDIER #1:Sir!

LOST COLONY SOLDIER #2:Sir!

DEAN ROCKWELL:Biggs. Wilson.


PAGE NINE

Panel 1: Dean stops, turning toward Dennis, giving him the attention he deserves.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Dennis..you’ve told me countless times yourself: When my father called the shots, he did whatever it took to make sure the people of Blood Valley were safe. That’s what I’m trying to do. And if that means making this place a little bare, so be it.

DENNIS (RESPONSE):Still, he knew when to ask...

Panel 2: Over-the-shoulder, featuring Dennis.

DENNIS:...are we safe?

Panel 3. OTS, featuring Dean. Our hero gives a foreboding scowl, like Dennis’ last comment sparked something in him...a thought, of what very well may come.

Panel 4: Back to a LS, with a Lost Colony Messenger named HENDERSON interrupting their conversation. He’s a young lad, who looks nervous and possibly inexperienced. Hence the position of messenger.

LOST COLONY MESSENGER:Sir. You’re wanted in the Radio Dome.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Thanks, Henderson. Be there in a jiff.

Panel 5: An almost unworried Dean puts his hand on Dennis’ shoulder, as Henderson leaves (*perhaps runs awkwardly off-panel, or is just not present in-panel at all*).

DEAN ROCKWELL:You worry too much, old man. I got this. I’m a Rockwell.


Panel 6: LS. Dean walks up the road and toward the camera, his back to Dennis, who stands a little in the background. Dean is smiling a cocky smile, and Dennis has a bit of a smirk himself.

DENNIS:Hell. You’re the most stubborn one I’ve ever known.


PAGE TEN

Panel 1: Establishing shot - we see the outside of the Radio Dome, the Colony’s comm-center that receives and sends messages from different parts of the valley, whether it be a distress call or some other audio memo. We can make out some other Lost Colony buildings surrounding the dome. A tiny Dean silhouette walks toward the door.

Panel 2: Large establishing shot of the inside of the Radio Dome, where Dean is entering through the door, the outside light creating a bright contrast to the dark comm-room. Below the platform Dean stands on are some LC Comms Specialists throughout the room at little terminals, all of which host a variety of lit buttons, mics, wires, and other tech. Near the far right of the room is the war table, and on the opposite side of the table is CLAIRE ROCKWELL, studying an illuminated yellow wall-map of Thunder Valley. She has short gorgeous black hair, with a tiny strand of bang that hangs at the top, kine of like Dean.

Panel 3: Perspective from the wall-map. Claire’s face is in front of the camera, staring intently at the complex geography of Thunder Valley. Her mind is racing; she’s on to something. In the background over her shoulder, Dean approaches, walking through the aisle of terminals.

Panel 4: FULL SHOT of Claire smiling, facing Dean, the map wall to her back. She’s holding a data sheet, which in this universe is basically a log sheet that prints out - per request - at the end of a radio link. It’s corners are encased in a type of plastic.

CLAIRE:About time you show up.


PAGE ELEVEN

Panel 1: MEDIUM SHOT. Dean smiles and he takes Rosie off his back.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Claire. Good Morning.

Panel 2: Claire plops the radio sheet down on the surface of the war table, where a bunch of other folders and documents rest. Little marks represent the radio sheet landing.

CLAIRE:Is it?

Panel 3: LS, Dean walks near the table, listening to Claire speak.

CLAIRE:We just received a radio-link from our bikesmen stationed outside Hillbury. The last twenty-four hours haven’t been kind to the townspeople. Three murders and sixteen thefts, reported overnight. They have reason to believe it could be the Yellowjackets.

DEAN ROCKWELL (RESPONSE):What the hell are Yellowjackets doing outside the Quarry?

Panel 4: FULL SHOT of Claire speaking, both arms on the table.

CLAIRE:If only we knew. We really should investigate...but not without sending out more men first. You know how quickly these things spiral out of control, especially with Yellowjackets involved. Problem is, “C” Squad’s still escorting the trade caravan en route to Bill Holland at The Forge, “D” Squad’s got their hands full with raiders north of Little Haven, and we still haven’t been able to reestablish contact with “H” Squad in Crag Hollow.


PAGE TWELVE

Panel 1: LS. Dean sits down in his chair at the War Table, as Claire speaks in frame.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Crag Hollow. Radio-links get scrambled there all the time. Any word from-

CLAIRE (RESPONSE):-Thunder City? What do you think? They can’t spare any men.

DEAN ROCKWELL (COUNTER-REPSONSE):Typical. Mr. Gold’s too busy nestled behind that wall of his, pretending like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

Panel 2: Claire speaks downward, looking all of the documents over and flipping through some. Some notes from Rosie begin to make their way onto the panel.

CLAIRE:What do you expect him to do? He’s got no power. And that “Police Task Force” of his is the worst kind of joke. If they can’t even keep a handle on their own---Do you really have to play that thing now?

Panel 3: FULL SHOT - Dean is leaning back on his chair, playing Rosie, his feet kicked up on edge of the table.

DEAN ROCKWELL:What? Helps me focus.

Panel 4: Dean puts Rosie down beside the chair, and rests her against the War Table.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Here’s the deal. I get it. The Colony’s in over its head. But I can’t leave these people hangin’. That’s not the type of gang we are. That’s not our groove. We’ll find a way to send more help. I’ll go myself, if I have to.

Panel 5: Claire, hand on hip, speaks in an annoyed manner.


CLAIRE:Ya know, if you’re trying so hard to fill Dad’s shoes, then maybe-

DEAN ROCKWELL:-Claire, I’ve already been lectured once today about what he would’ve done; I don’t need it-

CLAIRE (COUNTER-REPSONSE):-maybe you should look at the whole picture first.


PAGE THIRTEEN

Panel 1: Dean sits back in his chair and folds his arms.

DEAN ROCKWELL:You think there’s more to this.

Panel 2: Claire turns away from Dean, staring at the Wall Map to study its geography. To see the bigger picture.

CLAIRE:It just doesn’t add up. The Yellowjackets. Leadbellies. Three Snakes. The Brim-Hogs. These gangs all went years without kicking up trouble. But now? Our rival gangs are getting more...ambitious, to say the least. Stealing, killing...or worse. This amount of crime is unprecedented.

Panel 3: Perspective from the Wall Map. Claire faces the camera, and Dean looks a bit ominous in the background.

CLAIRE:Even some of our less-than-efficient ally gangs left Valley altogether. But why? It’s like something - or someone - lit a fire under their asses. And we’re the ones left to stick around and answer to it all.

DEAN ROCKWELL (RESPONSE):“Someone”? You think there’s some vigilante out there pulling the strings, trying to single us out? Claire...

Panel 4: Claire turns back to Dean, holding up her hand as if to urge him to consider. The door opens off-panel.

CLAIRE:

I’m just saying, if there’s something going on, we better hope Riles and Murphy will sniff it out.

DEAN ROCKWELL:I can’t think of anyone better to scout this part of the Valley than those two. So if there’s something out there, they’ll get wind of it, and quick. I promise.


Panel 5: Dean and Claire look to the door, where Dennis stands in the doorway, his face grim.

DENNIS:I hate to say it, but we’ve got company. And not the good kind.

Panel 6: Dean and Claire exchange foreboding glances. For they know the pieces may be falling into play, much sooner than they thought.


PAGE FOURTEEN

Panel 1: CU of Dean’s eye opening just a sliver. A glimmer of firelight reflecting from his eyeball.

Panel 2: From his eyes’ perspective. The back of his eyelids shroud most of the panel, but from the tight window of view, we can see a slightly blurred image of weird little gerbil hands holding something red...

Panel 3: CU. Dean’s eye opens more now.

Panel 3: Back to his eyes’ perspective. The eye is open now. A compact, almost ball-like gerbil-man sits on a log on the other side of a campfire. It is GUEEMO, a young, energetic desert merchant who’s unequivocally more gerbil than man. Though, he’s not paying attention to Dean, as he’s holding Rosie...trying to play her. His thin little arms struggle to position her correctly, and his teeny littler gerbil-man fingers make a feeble attempt to hold a D chord. He’s staring intently down at his hand, tongue sticking out of his mouth, as many wannabe-guitarists do when they think they are being awesome, when in fact they are not. It’s kind of like what it would look like if one of your younger cousins picked up your precious guitar and tried playing it to be “cool”. *A stuffed-to-the-brim merchant’s cart can be seen in view beside the log, with two Drivels, one fat, the other goofy, grazing in front of it.*

Panel 4. Exact same panel. Gueemo notices Dean, and while his arms and body keep the exact same position they were in, his head faces Dean, and his mouth just drops open. Oh shit. Caught red-handed. Kind of literally.

Panel 5: Action shot. In an instant, Dean SPRINGS into sitting position from his log-rest, outstretching his gun and pointing it at Gueemo. He looks fucking pissed. You would be too, if you caught someone fondling your lady.

DEAN ROCKWELL:DROP HER!


PAGE FIFTEEN

Panel 1: In this shot, Gueemo does what any sane man would do, should he see Dean Rockwell screaming to drop his guitar. He screams bloody murder. Except when he does it, it looks kind of adorable.

GUEEMO:NyaaahhhhhhhhH!!!!!!!!!

Panel 2: Same shot, with Gueemo tumbling backward off the log, doing everything he can to hold Rosie in a way that doesn’t spell her ultimate doom.

GUEEMO:Nyah..Oof!

Panel 3: Dean is sitting upward, pointing his gun across the campfire.

DEAN ROCKWELL:LET HER GO!

Panel 4: VERY LONG SHOT. On panel left, Dean points his gun. On panel right, Gueemo hides behind the log. As an establishing shot, we can now see the campfire area, with Dean’s log-rest that Gueemo made for him, the fire, Gueemo’s log, and his Merchant’s cart in the background, bulging from the hoard of items and trinkets the gerbil-man has traded.

GUEEMO:H-h-h...her?

DEAN ROCKWELL (RESPONSE):The guitar. Drop the FUCKING GUITAR!

Panel 5: Gueemo is peeking out from behind the log in a quirky fashion, holding place Rosie on Dean’s side of the log.

GUEEMO:I-I-I’m here to help you...J-j-just to help you, I promise!


PAGE SIXTEEN

Panel 1: Gueemo raises a free hand and wiggles his fingers to reflect his dialogue, which may seem out of place, but not for a gerbil-person. At this point, Rosie is placed safely on the ground and resting up against the log.

GUEEMO:See, I’ve got tiny fingers. I couldn’t hurt you if I tried!

Panel 2: In this panel, Dean is still pointing the gun, but it looks like he’s part angry, part in pain, and part thinking this whole gerbil-man thing through. His free hand is placed against his side where the stab wound is.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Just give her here.

Panel 3: Gueemo is now crawling over the log, and grabbing Rosie by the neck.

GUEEMO:Mph...You got roughed up pretty bad out there, nyah.

Panel 4: Long shot of Gueemo walking over to Dean, arms outstretched with Rosieheld laterally.

GUEEMO:I found you lying there. You looked angry. And dead...you also looks very dead.

Panel 5: With Rosie close enough, Dean snatches her away from Gueemo, as he still doesn’t feel secure until she is in her rightful owner’s hands.


PAGE SEVENTEEN

Panel 1: Dean slumps back down onto the log rest that Gueemo set up for him. He grunts in pain as he holds his side with his free hand...other hand lowering the gun that once pointed toward Gueemo.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Aggghhh...what...what happened to me?

Panel 2: Perspective from behind Dean’s abdomen. He’s pulling his shirt upward and it’s quite clear that his wound has been stitched up and cleaned. Gueemo, in the panel background, holds a hand outward as if to comfort him, but looks kind of nervous.

GUEEMO:That wound of yours, almost got the best of you, it did. I cleaned it. Patched you up. Y-y-you’re not going to kill me, are you?

Panel 3: Dean relaxes. It’s clear to him now, Gueemo stands no threat. To him, or to anything, ever. I mean, look at the little guy. Dean just lets out a little grumble and Gueemo backs away toward his sitting log.

Panel 4: Gueemo, being the happy-go-lucky little gerbil-man that he is...is kind of fickle in his emotions. One minute he can be nervous...the next, well, he can go back to being kind of jolly about everything. So in this panel he plops back down on his log, innocently smiling.

GUEEMO:So. Pompadour. Shades. And a red guitar. You’re...

Panel 5: Full Shot of Dean looking annoyed. The last thing he wants right now is a fucking fanboy.

GUEEMO:...you’re Dean Rockwell...aren’t you?


PAGE EIGHTEEN

Panel 1: Gueemo bursts into excitement on his log, forming his tiny little hands into fists and throwing them up in the air.

GUEEMO:I KNEW IT!!!

Panel 2: Gueemo is fucking ecstatic.

GUEEMO:Holy boots, I can’t believe you’re sitting right here, in front of me. You are a freaking LEGEND out here!

Panel 3: Similar shot. Gueemo is just regurgitating a stream of verbal diarrhea in what seems to be one long breathy rant, so it would be intentional in this panel to fit as many words as possible in the speech bubble for comedic effect, and to sort of break the 4th wall (perhaps some effect with the bubble about to burst or something might be unique and neat to do). *maybe he’s striking some kind of air-guitar-like stance on top of the log as if to relive the told fables of Dean and his gang.*

GUEEMO:You and The Lost Colony, taking down criminals. Shooting bandits, getting into gang battles. Nyah! So cool. Back in Dickonsville, they say you ride into battle playing your guitar. Is it true? It HAS to be. Totes cool. Totes cool.

Panel 4: Back to Dean, who is clearly not amused. He’s heard this before, and he’s really not in the mood. Poor Gueemo, he’s just trying to make a new friend. But Dean’s wall is up. Especially after what happened.


PAGE NINETEEN

Panel 1: Gueemo walks away from his log, his one hand raised to hist chest in order to signal that he is talking about himself, and the other outstretched toward his companions, to lead into their introduction.

GUEEMO:I’m Gueemo, desert merchant and trader of trinkets. Usually just around Dickonsville, but that town’s gone rotten for business. So, now I wander, I suppose. And these are my companions...

Panel 2: PORK and BEANS are “Drivels,” which are this world’s giant version of a real-life Pichiciego. Pork is kind of plump, while Beans is less fat and more goof, with close-together eyes.

GUEEMO (OP):Pork...and Beans.

PORK:*snorting*

BEANS:Grl...glrlr...gwlrl..

Panel 3: Gueemo stands near his merchant’s cart, and holds up a finger.

GUEEMO:Speaking of beans, you must be starving!

Panel 4: Gueemo bends down toward a compartment of his merchant’s cart, opening a panel.

BEANS:I’ll tell ya, Mister Rockwell, you’re lucky a trader found you. And not some Yellowjacket.

Panel 5: Full shot of Dean looking down at his side, with Pork waddling around making chortling noises.


GUEEMO (OP):Now...there’s gotta be something in here worth your time...


PAGE TWENTY

Panel 1: Gueemo is down on his knees, rummaging around in some overstuffed lower compartment of his merchant’s cart. All we can see is his butt sticking in the air. (*See: Yoda in Empire*)

GUEEMO:Holy boot-chewer...I got too many boots in here. Too many boots.

Panel 2: Gueemo is slightly turned enough to whip a small metal can over his shoulder and straight at Dean.

GUEEMO:Victory!

Panel 3: Dean’s hand whips up to catch the mysterious can. He’s injured, sure. But he’s still Dean Rockwell, who just innately has awesome reflexes.

Panel 4: Dean cracks open the easy-peel lid and sniffs the brown and grey mush that has a bean-like consistency. Gueemo goes back to rummaging around in his cart.

GUEEMO (OP):Now, just gotta gather a few things outta here...

Panel 5: Pork is right beside Dean, licking an exposed part of his arm or hand, hoping...just praying for scraps.

Panel 6: Dean tilts the can, reluctantly jiggling some of this canned stuff into his mouth.


PAGE TWENTY-ONE

Panel 1: Perspective from near the cart, with Gueemo in the forefront digging through his cart and hoarding random trinkets and tools into his arms, making clanking noises all the while. Dean’s in the background struggling to eat this mystery food, his cheeks stuffed and mouth half-full.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Ah damn! What kind of beans are these?

Panel 2: Back to a shot of Dean in the forefront and Gueemo’s arched butt in the background. Dean’s is looking at the can conspicuously, as if it was some kind of weird thing he found on the ground. There’s no discernible label on the front, however. His mouth is still full of this stuff. And his face is a little disgusted.

GUEEMO:Those aren’t beans.

DEAN ROCKWELL (RESPONSE):...then what is it!?

Panel 3: Same shot. Gueemo stands up, his arms full of random items. Though, he pauses, his mind racing in an effort to recall where he got it, when he got it, or what the hell the stuff is in the first place.

Panel 4: Gueemo spins around to face Dean.

GUEEMO:Idunno.

Panel 5: Full shot of Dean spitting the “bean-stuff” everywhere, clearly disgusted.

Panel 6: Dean is dumping the rest of the can on the ground beside him, and Pork is just chortling away and LOVING it.


PAGE TWENTY-TWO

Panel 1: Now Dean looks a little impatient, like he’s waisted enough time and needs to get on the road. Gueemo is walking around the camp setting these items down, in no real discernible fashion that would hint as to what the hell he’s actually doing with them. Just another weird quirky thing about the little gerbil dude.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Where’s my bike?

GUEEMO (RESPONSE):Your bike...right. About that. There were some...complications...

Panel 2: Dean looks pissed...like he knows he’s about to get some stupid news that will aggravate the SHIT out of him...

DEAN ROCKWELL:What do you mean, “complications”?

Panel 3: This panel cuts to a Full Shot of Dean and Gueemo standing side by side on the top of a small rocky slope, facing the camera. Dean holds his side, and is slightly bent over in pain. He’s also very. fucking. pissed. Gueemo stands by his side, quite nervously rubbing his hands together, terrified at how Dean will take the news.

GUEEMO:It exploded.

Panel 4: Reverse shot. The two companions look down the slope, where a smoldering, black bike lay in ruins, a smokestack rising from its frame. Gueemo is moving his arms to demonstrate a small explosion.

GUEEMO:It hit a rock...and...boom.

Panel 5: Side shot of the two facing off-panel, with a very annoyed Dean in the forefront. Gueemo is beside him, in the background, looking Dean over as to make sure he’s okay, and doing a kind of fake grin. Dean just stares at the bike, again, off-panel.


GUEEMO:I mean...it looked pretty cool when it happened...the sparks...and the fire...


PAGE TWENTY-THREE

Panel 1: Dean turns around, not even looking at Gueemo, to head back toward the campfire. Gueemo kind of just looks at him, and speaks in a futile attempt to cheer him up.

GUEEMO:But it’s okay, Mister Rockwell! Me and the crew can take you back to your base. But not until morning, not with that wound of yours. Not to mention, Pork is tired...and beans is gassy.

Panel 2: Dean continues walking toward the camera, with Gueemo looking temporarily taken off-guard, and kind of upset, his body slumping in disappointment.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Not going back that way.

GUEEMO (RESPONSE):...oh.

Panel 3: Gueemo regains his energetic persona, looking quite happy again.

GUEEMO:I’m headed to Wilmington tomorrow. Got some trading to do there. If you need to get back on your feet, you’re more than welcome to-

DEAN ROCKWELL (RESPONSE):We leave at dawn.

Panel 4. Gueemo pauses, like he’s lost control of the situation, like the rest of his talking was done for him.

GUEEMO:Oh..uh...yeah. You bet, Mister Rockwell. This is so awesome.


PAGE TWENTY-FOUR

Panel 1: Cut to a LS of Gueemo sleeping by the fire, bundled up in a sleeping bag-type thing, with Pork and Beans knocked out, snoring and making their weird Drivel noises. Dean sits by the fire, staring at flames that grow weaker by the minute.

Panel 2: LS of the camp.

GUEEMO:Mister Rockwell?

DEAN ROCKWELL:...what.

Panel 3: Gueemo lays on his side, bundled up, looking off in the distance where a bright purple light emanates from a section of desert behind some small rocky hills and cliffs. Dean sits in the background, facing the fire.

GUEEMO:That purple light on the horizon. From the way you came...what is it?

DEAN ROCKWELL (RESPONSE):Bone-Men.

Panel 4: Switch perspective, with Gueemo kind of half-sitting up and looking at Dean, who continues looking away.

GUEEMO:Bone-Men?

DEAN ROCKWELL:Come to loot the dead. Plenty of bodies back that way. Plenty of bones.

Panel 5: Gueemo looks upset. He’s starting to put the pieces together, and by this point can already gather that the Lost Colony headquarters was back that way.


PAGE TWENTY-FIVE

Panel 1: Gueemo has a sort of enchanted look on his face. This is the time he asks the question he’s been absolutely dying to ask.

GUEEMO:...Mister Rockwell?

DEAN ROCKWELL (RESPONSE):*grumble*

Panel 2:

GUEEMO:...can you shoot bullets from your guitar?

Panel 3: Dean just has this deadpan look on his face. Almost like he’s heard the same dumb question a thousand-times over, and he’s either sick of answering it, or sick of how dumb it sounds when people ask it. Or both. Yeah, probably both.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Bullets. From my guitar.

Panel 4: Gueemo looks kind of disappointed, but in a “fair enough” kind of way. He twirls his finger in the dirt beside him.

GUEEMO:...right. Didn’t think so. Totally did not think so.

Panel 5: Gueemo smiles, his eyes tired.

GUEEMO:...goodnight Mister Rockwell.


PAGE TWENTY-SIX

Panel 1: Dean stares into the camera. At this point, he’s sad, angry, and mentally exhausted. A faint purple light glimmers off of his eyes.

Panel 2: Full shot of the horizon, the eerie purple light emanating from the rocky hills/mountains beyond. Even the thought of the Bone-Men...it’s all that can remind him of the bodies...of what happened. Of Butch Mackenzie and the Cold-Bloods. Of the Sweet Yesterday...(*Strongly consider changing this shot to a view of the dying fire, instead, as Dean is not quite ready to face what just happened - he does this after the flashback when he falls to his knees*).

Panel 3: Return to Flashback. LS of Dean, with Dennis to his right and Claire to his left, with other Lost Colony brothers on either side of them. The camera angle is on the ground, looking at them all.

BUTCH MACKENZIE (OP):Well, well...

Panel 4: Same shot. An OBNOXIOUS BOOT slams down on the ground in front of the camera, jingling and sending a poof of dust outward.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:...what do we have here?

Panel 5: MS of Dean’s Dredd Eastwood expression.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Butch Mackenzie...and The Cold-Bloods.


PAGE TWENTY-SEVEN

Panel 1: As a MEDIUM SHOT, this panel is our first good look at Dean’s soon-to-be arch-nemesis, BUTCH MACKENZIE, leader of the vicious Cold-Bloods for over 60 years (he himself is probably in his mid-eightees by this point, as his species ages slowly). Standing before the gates of the Lost Colony base, Butch crosses his arms and smiles a devious, bussinessman-cuthroat-type smile.

Panel 2: Zoom out a bit, so that we see Butch’s main cronies on either side of him, with a small army of regulars behind them. These include: INDRID; CHEKLOV, a tall, brown, ripped, greased-up, four-armed lizard-snake hybrid with a penchant for getting into straight up brawls (and winning) - he wears no shirt; THE GECKO SISTERS, a vicious duo of creepy, bulgy-eyed Cold-Bloods who pride themselves in being able to hunt down anyone based on sight and scent, and absolutely love killing them in the end; and DRAGON, a hulking alligator mutt with terrifying claws and jaws that could crush metal, and Butch’s personal bodyguard (though, he’s not very bright, as the only word he knows is “Dragon,” causing the Cold-Bloods around him to simply give him that name). Butch speaks in a mischievous tone.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:The Lost Colony.

Panel 3: LS. The two gangs face each other, and here we can see just how many Cold-Bloods there actually are.

Panel 4: MS. Dean looks defiant. Unmoving.

DEAN ROCKWELL:There better be a damn good reason for showing your face here.


PAGE TWENTY-EIGHT

Panel 1: Butch puts a hand up, as if to caution his words.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:I know, I know. I haven’t forgotten about our banishment. Trust me when I say your former leader made damn sure of that.

Panel 2: Butch now points a hand at Dean, his face full of mischief.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:Speaking of which...you kind of look like him yourself. That means you must be...ah, yes...you’re Dean Rockwell. And this is your sister, Claire?

DEAN ROCKWELL (RESPONSE):What’s it to ya?

Panel 3: LS of the two gangs facing each other.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:I’m sure good ol’ Dennis Davidson filled you in on our little...falling out years back.

DENNIS (RESPONSE):John Rockwell showed you mercy. You’re lucky he didn’t hang you sonsabitches!

Panel 4: Dean holds a hand back to Dennis, as if to urge him to stand down. Dennis can get angry when it comes to those defying The Colony.

DEAN ROCKWELL:My father told me all I need to know about your clan.


PAGE TWENTY-NINE

Panel 1: LS. Butch half-laughs.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:Oh yeah? Well then I’m sure you’ve heard only half the story.

DEAN ROCKWELL:I’m not one for beating around the bush. Get to your point, Butch.

Panel 2: MEDIUM SHOT. Butch speaks adamantly.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:Fair enough. I consider myself a man of business, so I’ll get right down to it. Blood Valley, isn’t what it used to be. It’s broken...divided...dying. Everyone knows it, yet nobody does anything about it.

Panel 3: LS. Dean in forefront, facing Butch, who waves his hand in the air, motioning to the land.

DEAN ROCKWELL:We see things differently. The Lost Colony-

BUTCH MACKENZIE:-is a damn pipe dream. C’mon, you think your little gang riding around preaching your morals to the poor folk of the Valley is gonna do anything in the long run? Sure, the people smile wide when the Colony in near. But go out of sight, and the daggers come out. And the land bleeds. All because we left.


PAGE THIRTY

Panel 1: VILLAIN SPEECH SHOT. Butch holds his clenched fist before him, as if to squeeze the life out of everything and anyone who’s ever defied him.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:You see, the Cold-Bloods used to call the desert our home. Somewhere safe, somewhere welcome. Somewhere we could get shit done. We had a system, a certain way of calling the shots. But then they came...people sick and hungry...rejectedfrom all parts of the Continent. They flooded this valley like a poison. They proclaimed their territories. They constructed their towns. Then they raised their precious Thunder City, the shitstain of the West. They thought democracy would save them...just like it saved the East. And then they decide on a whim...that we have no part to play in it anymore. That we didn’t quite...fit into their system.

Panel 2: LS from Lost Colony’s perspective, a couple of heads in front of the camera.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:So what does The Lost Colony do? They send us packin’ with our tails between our legs. They tossed our pride and stole our land. But most of all, they took away the great hold we had on Blood Valley.

Panel 3: MEDIUM SHOT. Dean scowls at the blasphemy that’s coming out of Butch’s mouth.

DEAN ROCKWELL:Just because your clan wasn’t at the top of the food chain anymore, didn’t mean you had to threaten and kill your neighbors. We saved this place from The Cold-Bloods, and we’re still helping it recover from all the blood you spilt.


PAGE THIRTY-ONE

Panel 1: FULL SHOT. Butch looks a little more vicious now.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:Don’t you get it? This whole dance you’re doing doesn’t work. Thunder Valley doesn’t need some savior prancin’ around like a goddamn clown, hoping and praying that one day everyone will suddenly wake up and decide to co-exist in perfect fuckingharmony. It doesn’t need gangs, it doesn’t need territories. It doesn’t need democracy or success through free will. What it needs is someone who’s willing to take charge of everything. Someone willing to put their foot down and call the fucking shots, like how it used to be when WE lived here. Just so happens, that man is me. That’s right,

I’m taking back Blood Valley.

Panel 2: MEDIUM SHOT. Butch looks kind of innocent, oddly enough. Like he’s just doing another business negotiation.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:So this is what I leave you with, Dean Rockwell. A choice. You join me, and, we make up the greatest force the West has ever seen. We use that power to make Thunder Valley what it should be. Unified under a single order, without all the bullshit getting in the way. Or...

Panel 3: CLOSE UP of Butch, his face villainous.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:...or the daggers come out.


PAGE THIRTY-TWO

Panel 1: LS. Butch looks less aggressive, and actually a little bit more laid back, revisiting the role of negotiator. He kind of lightheartedly shrugs.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:It’s your call, Rockwell. Really when it comes down to it, we have the same end goal. Uniting the people of this land, bringing everyone together-blah-blah-fucking blah. Our way is simply more...direct. So, what’dya say?

Panel 2: LS of Dean standing in front of his gang, defiant and unmoved.

Panel 3: Dean looks to his right at Dennis, who grits his teeth and gives him the angriest dwarven face you can imagine.

Panel 4: Dean looks to his left, where Claire gives him a concerning look, with a hint of sadness, as she knows how this is going to end up.

Panel 5: She nods.

Panel 6: Dean looks down toward the ground.


PAGE THIRTY-THREE

Panel 1: MEDIUM SHOT of Dean, in all of his badass glory, head raised a little. Rockwell tenacity. Fucking stone.

DEAN ROCKWELL:You come into my base, up to my men, and in a show of force, you threaten everything we’ve ever worked toward...all so you can reclaim Blood Valley as your own? No. You had your chance with this place, Pal. And when your gang decided it was exempt from the laws of mercy and justice, when you raised your guns against those who showed you kindness, you blew it. It was The Cold-Bloods who left the West to die, and The Lost Colony who stood up to heal the wounds you left behind, no matter how long it would take. We know the people and gangs of this Valley are vain. We know that they are flawed, lost, and broken. But play the part of dictator and conqueror...and in time, they would bury their demons and rise up against you. This is our territory, and I’ll die before I see it fall back into the hands of killers and cutthroats.

Panel 2: CLOSE UP. Deans tops off his counter-speech with the mother of all DreddEastwood expressions.

DEAN ROCKWELL:So leave Blood Valley. Uphold my Father’s banishment, and consider yourselves spared.


PAGE THIRTY-FOUR

Panel 1: LONG SHOT. Silence, as the two gangs face each other.

Panel 2: FULL SHOT. Butch shifts his jaw in thought.

Panel 3: Butch holds up a hand.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:Alright. Alright. I tell you what. Maybe I was a too...aggressive in my negotiations. We care about this place just as much as you do...so if stepping aside to let The Lost Colony stay on top is best for everyone...how about we just stay outta your hair.

Panel 4: Butch relaxes. He doesn’t look aggressive or angry.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:You know, you got some real balls, Dean Rockwell. Reminds me of your Dad. Sorry he passed, by the way. I always respected him...that was a man who knew how to pick and choose his fights.

Panel 5: Butch turns around toward his gang, twirling his hand in the air.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:Alright boys! You heard the man! Let’s wrap it up and go home.


PAGE THIRTY-FIVE

Panel 1: LS. Dean crosses his arms defiantly, waiting for them to leave. Claire smirks a bit, and Dennis has an angry dwarf look on his face.

Panel 2: Zoom in a bit so that only Dean and Dennis are featured in the panel. Dennis’ hand rests on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean is turning his head a bit, with a tiny smirk on his face.

DENNIS:Your Father would be proud...

Panel 3: FS. Butch faces away from the camera, his one finger held up in the air.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:Oh, just one more thing...

Panel 4. Butch twirls around, underhandedly tossing something into the air.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:Catch.

Panel 5: LS. As Dean looks upward at the GRENADE sailing through the air, Dennis’s body smacks into Dean, sending his body hurling several feet to the side.

DENNIS:DEAN GET DOWN!!!

Panel 6: Dean thumps on the ground, holding a hand outward. Dennis turns to face the grenade, which falls right toward him.

DEAN ROCKWELL:DENNIS, NOOOO!!!


PAGE THIRTY-SIX

Panel 1: MEDIUM SHOT...of the grenade exploding right onto Dennis’ fucking face, melting cartlidge and spraying face matter outward.

Panel 2: LS. The explosion. A burst of fire and light riddled with bits of concrete and dirt, with a hint of Dennis’ disintegrating body. Off to the side, Dean is catapulted through the air, his guitar sent outward several feet from his body in a red blur.

Panel 3: MEDIUM SHOT of Butch Mackenize fucking screaming, holding a beefy shotgun outward with one hand.

BUTCH MACKENZIE:NOW!

Panel 4: Butch Mackenzie and his Cold-Bloods let fucking loose. Their eyes and teeth are vicious, as their guns pop with flashes of light and spray bullets through the air. Butch’s shotgun BLASTS in front of the camera, bathing his villainous face in light.


PAGE THIRTY-SEVEN

Panel 1: BACK TO THE PRESENT, MEDIUM SHOT of Dean sitting at the campfire, his eyes deep in thought.

Panel 2: CU of the campfire, its flame stifled by logs. A small stream of smoke whirls into the air.

Panel 3: Ground view of the campfire in the forefront, with Dean walking away in the background.

Panel 4: FLASHBACK. Young Dean stands behind his Father, excited to be future leader.

DEAN ROCKWELL:I’ll be a great leader, I promise. I’ll shoot ALL the bandits!

JOHN ROCKWELL:Heh. Dean, being a leader isn’t about shooting guns and killing bandits. It’s about doing everything in your power to protect the people you care about...

Panel 5: LS. Perspective from behind Dean, as he stands at the crest of a small ridge overlooking the desert span between he and his past. His face is solemn and quiet. The horizon emanates that eerie, purple hue.

JOHN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):To fight for those you love.

Panel 6: FULL SHOT. Dean, facing the camera, falls to his knees.

JOHN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):Even for those you’ve lost.


PAGE THIRTY-EIGHT

Panel 1: LS. Behind Dean, on his knees and facing the desert span and the purple horizon.

JOHN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):And should you ever find yourself face-to-face with the devil himself...you keep fightin’on.

DEAN ROCKWELL (MONOLOGUE):I won’t let you down...I promise.

Panel 2: FLASHBACK. MEDIUM SHOT of John, back to the camera, but turning his head to the side a little...just enough so we can make out a bit of a smirk.

JOHN ROCKWELL:I know, Son...I know.

Panel 3: SIDE SHOT. Dean buries his face in both of his hands, and although we cannot quite see the tears, he lets out a quiet sob...

Panel 4: LS from behind a crying Dean.

Panel 5: SAME EXACT SHOT. Only now, Pork waddles up to him.

Panel 6: EXACT SAME SHOT. Pork sits to Dean’s right, overlooking the valley with him. Beans is meandering up to Dean’s left.

CUT TO BLACK


the ballad of dean rockwell issue #2 - cloud object storage · the ballad of dean rockwell issue #2...

Documents