INT. VENICE — ABANDONED ART GALLERY — NIGHT

Rain taps against broken skylights.

The room is massive, empty… yet crowded.

Paintings hang crooked. Sketches litter the floor.

Some of them move when Luke isn’t looking.

Luke and Tyler step inside cautiously.

TYLER

(low)

Tell me this isn’t a trap.

A page flips on its own.

SCRRRRK.

A pencil drags across paper.

WILSON (O.S.)

It’s only a trap if you resist the story.

Wilson steps out from behind a pillar.

Messy black hair. Ink-stained fingers. Dark circles under his eyes.

He smiles like he’s already won.

THE ROOM TURNS AGAINST THEM

Wilson opens his sketchbook.

The drawings crawl off the pages.

Ink figures peel themselves free and drip onto the floor, forming warped versions of Luke and Tyler.

LUKE

…That’s messed up.

WILSON

I draw what people fear.

He points the green pencil at Luke.

The walls close in.

Luke gasps—space shrinking, breath shortening.

TYLER STRIKES — AND FAILS

Tyler rushes forward, green energy flaring.

He swings—

His fist passes straight through Wilson.

WILSON

You can’t hit an idea.

Behind Tyler, an ink-creature grabs his leg and drags him down.

The floor turns to wet paper.

Tyler struggles, sinking.

LUKE FIGHTS BACK — SMART

Luke plants his feet.

Closes his eyes.

LUKE

He’s not real.

The pressure eases.

Wilson frowns.

WILSON

Reality is negotiable.

Luke opens his eyes and moves anyway.

He tackles the ink double of himself, tearing it apart.

The walls hesitate.

TURNING POINT — TEAMWORK

Tyler roars, green energy exploding outward.

The paper-floor shreds.

He leaps free, landing beside Luke.

TYLER

Hey sketch-boy!

Wilson’s drawings pause.

Wilson blinks.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

WILSON LOSES CONTROL

Wilson starts sketching faster.

Too fast.

The drawings twist, overlapping, tearing at each other.

The room warps, hallucinations stacking.

Luke grabs Tyler’s shoulder.

LUKE

Don’t look at the walls.

Look at me.

Tyler locks eyes with Luke.

The hallucinations crack.

Wilson stumbles.

THE COUNTER

Tyler charges.

Luke follows.

Together.

Tyler slams the ground—green energy anchors the space.

Luke punches Wilson square in the chest.

Not hard.

Real.

Wilson flies back into a stack of canvases.

The sketchbook hits the floor.

The drawings go still.

WILSON DEFEATED (FOR NOW)

Wilson groans, half-buried in paper.

WILSON

(smiling weakly)

You ruined the ending.

Police sirens echo outside.

Luke and Tyler stand over him, breathing hard.

TYLER

Guess we rewrote it.

They look toward the city skyline—

Where a massive flash of Northern Light erupts.

Liam’s fight.