Rueger looks on in disbelief from his rooftop perch. He
moves; a series of cautious steps and superhuman agility, as
he leaps onto the broken neck of the crane and scales it to
the deck of the hulking ship.
EXT. SHIP'S DECK
The freighter's main deck has been shattered, unlashed cargo
and open flames everywhere. Rueger picks his way through the
debris, cautiously approaching the sprawled shape of a BODY.
He turns it over with his foot: the sailor's neck has been
torn open, the man's face contorted into an expression of
raw, frozen TERROR. As Rueger recoils slightly, a frantic
pair of hands abruptly SEIZES him. A survivor. The sailor
babbles in Russian, as Rueger struggles against him.
Where is he?! For God's sake…
The man breaks away with a rough shove, knocking Rueger to
the ground and running for one of the open hatches to the
The sailor staggers down the steps and into the murky
darkness. Rueger fights to his feet as the sound of panicked
screaming emerges from the stairwell; it peaks, and is cut
off sharply by a horrible gurgling sound.
Rueger's breathing quickens. Footsteps. From the smoke and
flames emerges a tall, elegant form: swarthy and lean,
dressed in an archaic ensemble of hooded cloak and a sleek,
military-style tunic and slacks. KAZIGLU BEY. His long black
hair pulled into an ornamental topknot, bloodied hands
adorned in exotic silver rings. His black eyes find Rueger
cowering amidst the devastation, and the gap between the men
is sheared in a single, predatory leap.
Bey's fingers close around Rueger's throat. Holding him in
place as his free hand tears Rueger's shirt open, revealing a
ragged mark carved into the skin there: a crude rendition of
a dragon wrapped around a crusader's cross. Bey releases his
grip, as Rueger shrinks back in fear.