This is a one page script, which is a little insane, but we’re test-driving it. To maximize its impact, the page will be cut in half. The top half will be divided into three equal-width rectangles, and so will the bottom half.
This is Trench, so named for the coat he always wears. He’s covered in leather, head to toe, but with his mouth exposed, because as a nonpowered crime fighter, he needs all the protection he can get. It’s nighttime, and he’s running across traffic in the rain. He’s running left to right, and this first panel takes up the first lane of a road that will be cut across all three of the top panels. And, as a hint, not every detail of the character needs to be in panel, so if his trench coat or his arm or a leg ends up off panel, it would only add to the momentum of these first three panels. Trench only speaks in voice over on this page, and as such, his text should be contained in a blue box. Jessica just gets the word bubble treatment.
TRENCH (VOICE OVER): SOME NIGHTS ARE EASIER THAN OTHERS.
Trench dives across the panel, shoving an old lady out of the way of a bus that made no attempt to even slow down. Traffic continues to fly right by him.
Trench is kneeled in the right lane next to the old woman. He has removed his gloves, and thrown them on the ground beside him. His fingers are pressed against her carotid artery in her neck, searching for a pulse.
Pull back. This shot is from high above. The traffic is bottlenecking as drivers realize there are people in the road, and they try to cram themselves over. There's a similar effect on the other side of the road, giving Trench a wide berth. The edges of the panel are largely dictated by this empty space left by the traffic. Alone, in the middle of this busy road, at night, in the dark, he’s kneeled beside this old woman, giving her chest compressions. His left hand is placed firmly on her breastbone, with the fingers of the right interlaced with the fingers of the left. His arms are straight, with the elbows locked, forming a ‘V’ between his hands and shoulders, and he is pressing straight down.
Close in now, with Trench in the center, defeated. She’s dead, and no one else seems to have even noticed. He’s exhausted, and his head hangs lows as his shoulders slump. He feels entirely alone in the world.
Jessica, a little girl, is standing next to her mother, holding her hand. She’s smiling down at him. She’s too young to understand that the woman is dead, and what that means, she just knows that he’s upset. Her mother holds her hand tightly, protectively. She’s not innocent enough to trust Trench, even in the middle of a street. Jessica is holding pistachio ice cream on a waffle cone, not store fresh, but licked down into a ball, that she’s holding out to Trench. If it’s to your taste, you can draw a little hyperdeformed Trench face, with pistachio ice cream caked around a smile, above the “THE END” Text.
TRENCH (VO): ON THE OTHERS…
JESSICA: WHY ARE YOU SO SAD?
JESSICA: WOULD YOU LIKE SOME OF MY ICE CREAM?
TRENCH (VO): YOU JUST HAVE TO FIND SOMETHING TO MAKE IT WORTH IT.
TRENCH (VO): THE END.