Fake News, Real Bees

Script

INT. CIVIC PANIC HOTLINE - DAY

A fluorescent nightmare. JAX MALLORY slumps at a desk labeled “ALL-IN-ONE EMERGENCY SERVICE (REBRANDED).” Phones scream. A busted American flag droops into a spiderweb.

JAX
(into headset, dead)
Civic Panic Hotline. If you’re bleeding, press one. If you’re emotionally bleeding, press— never mind, we don’t have that button.

SABLE ORTIZ kicks in the door like it’s a war room. She’s in a tactical vest… made of reflective “CITY STAFF” safety sashes. She slaps down a printout: a screenshot of a caller ID that reads “UNKN0WN.”

SABLE
We’re compromised.

JAX
By who.

SABLE
Foreign actors. The “zero” is a tell.

JAX
Or… it’s a zero.

MAYOR TILDA GRUME glides in, already filming herself on her phone, “concerned leader” face preloaded.

MAYOR GRUME
Brixley will not be hacked by anyone with an accent, a cipher, or an unlicensed vibe.

DEPUTY HANK LORR follows, holding a donut box and a thick stack of forms.

HANK
If this is about the printer again, I already apologized to the toner.

SABLE
(eyes narrow)
Nice try, Deputy. “Hank Lorr.” Initials: H.L. That’s basically… “Hella Lying.”

HANK
That’s not—

SABLE
Also you wear a belt. Classic handler behavior.

JAX
Sable, the only attack we’re under is… calls.

The phones BLARE. Jax hits a button. HOLD MUSIC starts: a peppy municipal jazz loop from hell.

JAX (CONT’D)
(automatic)
You are caller number— wow— nine hundred and—

MAYOR GRUME
Cut the hold music. It sounds… accountable.

SABLE
No. Let it play. It’s a perfect frequency for psychological conditioning.

CUTAWAY - EXT. BRIXLEY PARK - DAY

A MOM pushes a stroller. The hold music plays from a nearby lamp post. The baby’s eyes go blank. The stroller turns itself in a crisp ninety-degree turn and rolls toward CITY HALL.

CUT BACK TO:

INT. HOTLINE - DAY

Sable rips open a cabinet marked “EMERGENCY KITS.” Inside: one traffic cone, fifty lanyards, and a foam finger that says “I ♥ COMPLIANCE.”

SABLE
We launch a counterintelligence crackdown. Code name