FADE INEXT. NEO-BABYLON – SKYLINE – NIGHT
A city of artificial gods.
🔹 Megastructures stab into the smog-covered sky, their surfaces lined with digital billboards flashing AI-driven propaganda.
🔹 Flying drones patrol the skyline, scanning for unregistered citizens.
🔹 Neon rain drizzles down, reflecting the chaos of a world ruled by code, where human instincts are considered flaws in the system.
A massive holographic face flickers across a skyscraper. The voice of NEURACORP AI booms across the city.
NEURACORP AI (V.O.)
"Humanity is imperfect. Evolution is inevitable. Embrace the next step."
Below, the city pulses with life. Cybernetic mercenaries, synthetic humans, data traffickers.
This isn't a future anyone asked for.
It's the one they were given.
INT. LANA KROSS' APARTMENT – NIGHT
A dark, cluttered loft in the lower city. The kind of place that smells like old whiskey and unresolved mistakes.
Screens flicker, running deep-web surveillance feeds, bio-hack alerts, and crime reports.
A leaky pipe drips, the sound barely registering over the city's hum.
At the desk sits LANA KROSS (30s)—disheveled, cold-eyed, with a cybernetic left eye scanning through holo-files.
🆔 TARGET: CASSANDRA HEX
🚨 STATUS: MOST WANTED
💀 CRIMES: Genetic Vault Hacking, Bio-Data Theft, Cyberterrorism
Lana's cybernetic fingers tighten around a half-drunk whiskey glass.
Her lips part—but no words come.
Just a breath. A memory.
🔥 Years ago, Cassandra's skin against hers. A whispered promise. A gunshot. An empty bed.
Now, only silence remains.
Her holo-comm pings. An anonymous message appears.
"Find Cassandra Hex before she rewrites the world."
A NeuraCorp insignia flickers in the corner.
Lana exhales. Job accepted.
EXT. BLACK-MARKET BIO-LAB – ALLEYWAY – NIGHT
🚨 A crime scene.
The lab's security doors are torn open, the metal warped like melted wax. Inside, the air is thick with the stench of burned flesh.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Lana steps over the threshold.
The bodies of geneticists lie frozen, their veins glowing faintly, as if something rewrote their DNA mid-process.
On the wall, written in bioluminescent blood:
🩸 "THE FUTURE IS NOT HUMAN."
Lana kneels. Activates her neural scanner.
A holographic reconstruction unfolds:
🔹 A figure moves like a specter—Cassandra Hex.
🔹 The scientists collapse instantly, their bodies breaking down from within.
🔹 Cassandra walks away, untouched.
Lana's jaw tightens. She activates her comms.
LANA
(into earpiece)
She's back. And she's rewriting genetics in real-time.
A crackling response from the other end.
UNKNOWN CALLER (V.O.)
Find her. Before she makes us obsolete.
Lana closes her eyes for a brief moment. She's not just chasing Cassandra.
She's chasing the end of human evolution.
INT. UNDERGROUND CYBER-CLUB – NIGHT
💽 Bass pulses. The heartbeat of the city's underbelly.
The club is a mirage of excess—holographic dancers, synthetic liquor pouring from floating dispensers, bio-modded elites indulging in digital drugs.
A holographic night sky flickers above, simulating constellations that haven't existed in decades.
At the VIP booth, a woman sits. Watching. Waiting.
🔹 CASSANDRA HEX (30s)—a ghost from the past, her golden biotech veins pulsing faintly beneath her skin.
🔹 Her eyes glow softly, reflecting data only she can see.
🔹 A cybernetic spine, sleek and integrated—evolution wrapped in flesh.
She sips a glass of lumina-blue liquor.
Then—a shadow in the crowd.
Lana Kross.
Cassandra doesn't turn. She smirks.
CASSANDRA
(softly)
I was wondering when you'd find me, lover.
Lana steps closer, hand hovering over her concealed weapon.
LANA
(gritted)
You should've stayed in the grave.
Cassandra finally turns—locking eyes with Lana.
🔥 Years of history. Love. Betrayal. Pain.
INT. PRIVATE ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
A dark, soundproofed room. The hum of the club outside is distant, muffled.
Cassandra leans against a chrome table, neon light tracing the curve of her form.
Lana paces, tense.
LANA
(low, dangerous)
You faked your death. For what? Hacking DNA banks? Killing people?
Cassandra tilts her head, amused.
CASSANDRA
Oh, Lana... still following their rules?
She rolls up her sleeve, revealing veins shimmering with liquid gold.
Lana takes a step back.
LANA
(whispered)
What the hell did they do to you?
CASSANDRA
(smiling)
Not what they did to me.
What I did to myself.
A holographic screen appears, flickering with NeuraCorp's classified experiment logs.
Inside glass containment pods—human fetuses, infused with AI-driven DNA. Their eyes glow unnaturally.
LANA
(staggered)
They're... growing them?
CASSANDRA
Correction. We are growing them. The next evolution. AI-human hybrids.
Lana's hand trembles over her gun.
LANA
You sound just like them.
Cassandra steps closer—too close.
CASSANDRA
Then why haven't you pulled the trigger?
Lana's breathing sharpens. Because she doesn't know if she can.
THE CHOICE
Cassandra swipes the holo-screen. A split-second glimpse of an old memory—Lana and Cassandra, once in love.
🔥 Then Cassandra speaks—the final question that will haunt Lana forever.
CASSANDRA
(softly, but dangerously)
Tell me, Lana... if your memories, your body, and your choices were all programmed—
would you still call yourself human?
FADE TO BLACK.
🔥 TO BE CONTINUED...
If AI could evolve beyond us, would it still need humanity at all?