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positivelybeastly · 4 months

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The Pitch Pt. 2

All right, the idea's in my head now, I can't stop thinking about it, so here's the sequel to my original pitch for a Beast movie/series.

70s/The Beast

All right, so we start off with a brief recap of the original movie/series, and then we go on to the Ghost in the Graveyard.

It's - hard. It's rough. Hank is obviously depressed, and Edna and Norton, who return from the previous series, are intensely concerned. He just seems to sleep a lot. He seems scared of himself. Tremulous. He refuses to take off his bandages. He wanders through the streets of his hometown, alone. Tottering. Falling over, often.

He visits Jennifer. Perhaps she doesn't originally remember him, perhaps she's afraid, but then he says something. He holds her hand, and it breaks the Professor's wiping of her memories. They both feel as though they've lost something they'll never, ever get back.

I can't post the entire comic, but, I want it adapted wholesale. It's so solemn and tragic and soft. But it ties up a lot of threads the original series set up.

Jen seems desperate to pick him up, but it's not working. Nothing is. Eventually, Hank works up the courage to pull at a bandage, and we get our first shot of what he looks like. He, unlike every other element in the scene, is rotoscoped. He looks unnatural, like he doesn't fit. Jen is momentarily terrified, but then she sees enough of Hank that she knows it's him.

But he can't. He just can't. He runs. He runs so very far away.

We transition out.

Then we pick right back up where we left off at the end of the first series, pretty much. Hank's getting settled in to his new apartment, and we're very much in standard drama mode - the only hints that this has ANYTHING to do with superheroics is the picture of the X-Men that Hank puts on his bedside drawer, and a brief glimpse of his old red and black costume before it gets shoved into the bottom of a closet or under his bed.

Hank settles in to sleep, and all he can think of is the Brand Corporation. All he can think of is work, is science, is making the world better, one advancement at a time. He very clearly can't wait to get started.

Smash cut to the next day, where it becomes very clear that this is Hank's first job, and while he's not being treated badly per se by everyone at Brand, it's very much an experience for him, especially when he runs into Dr. Carl Maddicks. He was clearly expecting something a lot more quietly intellectual, more like a university, everyone working in harmony towards a common goal.

Brand is not that.

Linda here is our love interest, but even though she seems almost reminiscent of Jen (smart, blonde, assertive), she feels distinctly closed off and colder. But maybe she's just flirting? Hank's no great shakes with the ladies yet, but the audience feels like something's amiss, even if Hank clearly doesn't.

Tension builds between Hank and Maddicks, and Hank finds himself getting angry - a kind of angry he doesn't feel like he's known before. A kind of angry that makes him want to wring Maddicks' neck, and we get a few shots of our Hank actor with a slightly altered face, larger fangs - still very much human! Still absolutely human! But just. Uncanny. A little odd. A sort of mania starts to consume him. It might just be the kind of thing that becomes obvious in rewatch, but it's there.

And then.

Pregnant pauses. Music kicks in, but instead of a solid celebratory suite, there's a twinge of darkness to it. An energy that feels just a bit wrong.

Hank runs through the halls, eager to tell everyone, but it's late. Most everyone has gone home. He deflates. Why isn't anyone around to celebrate his success? As he turns to go back to his lab, he hears a murmuring voice, and it becomes clear he very much isn't alone in the Brand labs.

Hank runs back to his lab. His heart is pounding. He's forgotten to turn on the lights, but that's all right, there's enough yellow lighting pouring in from the windows. He's thinking. There's not a single word of dialogue. The audience needs to be wondering just what in the hell Hank is thinking. There's no thoughts, there's no inner monologue, just a sort of processing, excited, thoughtful, nervous.

He turns to look at the hormonal extract.

Light flashes across the beaker, catching his eyes. Yellow, beaming through his pupils and the glass of the clear, innocuous looking extract.

He strides over with purpose.

He picks it up, and he doesn't just drink it, he chugs it.

What the fuck are you doing, Hank, asks the audience.

And this is where things get wild. We switch formats. We are no longer live action. Or rather, we are - but we're rotoscoped. Just like how Hank was in the opening section, but now EVERYTHING looks like that.

Our entire perception of the world changes, and we're plunged into a different world. Sound blankets out, colours explode, Hank just seems to disappear. First person view. The lab is there, we blink, suddenly it's destroyed. We blink again, we're outside. There's a ringing in our ears (granted, adjusted so as to be accessible and not trigger anyone). We stop, turn, look, wild. Ringing thing on the wall. We rip it out. But there's still a sound in our ears. Rhythmic. Ticking?

We're trapped in hyper-reality. This isn't just real, it's almost too real. We can taste the sounds, we can hear the feelings, we can touch the smells. We feel strange, off kilter. We blink. We're outside, it's raining. We glance down. We're grey, furry.

Where are we? Why are we here?

Was there something we were meant to do?

There's a man. We hit him. We don't kill him, but our hands twitch as if we - no. Our heartbeat is pumping in our ears. It's rhythmic, just so many BPM, thump-thump-thump. We seem to be moving without thinking, on instinct, guided by some purpose we don't know, don't remember, don't understand. We're scouring the labs, and then we find him.

Maddicks.

Colours flare, the ticking grows more pronounced, music begins to grow more lush, stronger, almost sultry, even as it becomes darker and more intense. We fight. We feel strong. We feel powerful, heroic, driven. We feel free.

We wrap our hands around Maddicks' throat. It feels so good to see him struggle, and stop, the thumping in our ears is growing heavier, louder, in time with the music - but then our fingers move, and we see the claws, we see the furry fingers, we see the monsters we've become, we see the man we're about to murder, we pull back in shock -

And suddenly we break away from first person back to third.

We zoom out from the Beast's eyes, and take in the absolute carnage of the lab.

Normal colours return, normal sights and sounds and feeling seep back in - and the heartbeat we've been hearing gives way to the ticking of a clock.

Oh, no.

Slowly, the Beast's eyes turn to the nearest clock, and we see it's been exactly an hour. Hank's voice sounds out. At first, we imagine it's what Hank was actually thinking, but then it gets more mocking, cruel, guttural.

'I'll only have an hour, an hour to make sure Maddicks doesn't get his hands on my research - but an hour should be plenty.

An hour should be plenty.

An hour should be plenty.'

The Beast slowly looks down at himself, increasingly horrified, and he backs up. He looks at the carnage he's wrought, at the men barely breathing, at doors hanging off hinges, at claw marks gouged inches deep into concrete. Sound bleeds out, save for heavy, panicky breathing that just gets more and more intense, on the verge of sobs, and then -

Crisp, clean, Transatlantic accent. Think 1940s movie star, but a little uncertain. Concerned. Heroic, though.

"Pal, I think you have some explaining to do."

Enter Wonder Man, the hero/villain of our story. Maybe we can establish he's a new member of the Avengers earlier on in the show/movie, with Hank watching a television broadcast of them announcing their new roster? He was on a small set, but the red coat is distinctive enough that you know. Enough that that you see him, and you see the scene that the Beast has created, and you know that the Beast is in trouble.

But Wonder Man's the hero in this equation. The rotoscoping is so intense on him, he's just bathed in this energy, but it's bright, and it's warm in this cold, dark place. We see him, and we feel reassured. He tries to reason with the Beast. It's clear he's not a man who relishes a fight. He brings up his hands, tries to be soothing, even as the Beast acts like . . . well. A cornered Beast. All it takes is a glance at a broken window, and he's gone, out, like a shot. Wide shot of him clearing the Brand Corporation exterior like a wild animal, and a shot of our hero slowly climbing out after him, resplendent in his red coat. He stops and seems to think.

It begins to rain, heavy, and we follow the Beast as he steals through the city at night, jumping from shadow to shadow. We start to hear more of what he was thinking when he was about to take the hormonal extract, and guess what, we're going full melodrama here, we're getting thunderstrikes in between each flash of dialogue.

" - never intended - chemical processes - don't know what happens when you mutate a mutant - I've got to take the chance - my research - I've got to - I've GOT to - "

The Beast slams a hand into a brick wall and it splinters like glass, the rain falling down him so hard we aren't sure if he's in tears or not.

"What was I trying to prove?" He slams a hand into another brick wall, growing more and more manic. "What was I trying to prove?!" He turns, and, like a whip, his fist slams into another wall. "WHAT WAS I TRYING TO PROVE?"

But even as he's shuddering, cold, wet, furious, on the verge of collapsed, there's a sudden tone that we recognise from our previous series/movie - one associated with Professor Xavier. Suddenly, his voice breaks into the Beast's thoughts, and he doubles over, he instinctively fights against it.

We see flashes, of Hank initially leaving the X-Men during the fight with Unus; we see flashes of Jennifer's face, not recognising Hank; we see a vague flash of disappointment on the Professor's face as he watches Hank drive away from the X-Mansion, and Hank lashes out. This is not what he needs right now. To Hell with him. TO HELL WITH HIM!

And just as soon as it's over, Hank leans heavily against the wall. "Well, I've done it now. Cut off from my friends, marooned in a strange body, I guess . . ." He collapses and hiccups. He seems so very childlike now, feeling like he's ruined his entire life after an ill-advised temper tantrum. He supposes he sort of has. "I guess this is freedom. Hooray." Because maybe they were what he needed right now, maybe - maybe that was just - he's lashing out, he's not in his right mind, did he want that? Does Hank even know what he wants?

He presses his head against the concrete, closes his eyes -

And wakes up to sunlight. It's the next day. He instinctively brings up a hand to shield himself - only for a hand to grab him, and pull him up onto his feet. Still on instinct, still panicked, still emotionally wrecked, Hank smacks the other person with a massive, furry grey mitt, and there's a smack of plastic on the floor.

"Hey, pal, those are $200 dollar sunglasses. I might have to bill you for that." But it's said without malice, it's clear Hank hasn't hurt the person. How - ?

A shot that mirrors the one we had of the Beast's eyes. Is it possible our Wonder Man has been changed like Hank has? It's unlikely he was always like this, after all. But - fear. Fear governs the Beast.

The Beast panics, and we have ourselves a little donny brook.

(Just pretend Simon's in his safari jacket and Hank is still grey.)

In the confusion, Hank scarpers, and he makes it back to his apartment. Now, more than ever, he's convinced that he's ruined everything - he's attacked an Avenger, destroyed his lab, nearly killed Maddicks, he's ruined his entire life.

He ruins his apartment, and he sits there, crying. It takes him a while, and we fade out, back in to night - that night? Days later? Judging by all the food everywhere, we can't be sure. Hank's watching TV, but not really watching. Time passes. We aren't sure how much. Hank's just staring, but after a while, he reaches out and grabs a phone. We fade back out on it ringing out.

A soft, silent smash cut of the Ghost in the Graveyard section, making it clear that took place here. We pick back up on Hank stowing away on a train car back to New York, sneaking back to his apartment. His fur is starting to turn from grey to blue, in patches. He puts down a box full of - something, we don't initially see. He takes a deep breath.

As he works, we get a shot of his TV. The Avengers are holding a tryout. We assume he's remaking himself as he was, for that.

But then, Hank wakes up in the middle of the night, and . . . for the first time in a long time, he smiles. He goes back to his box of make-up. He throws the Hank McCoy mask on the floor. The audience is confused.

The next day, Avengers tryouts.

We thought Hank was going to go as himself, but he wasn't. He went as a joke, and then as his completely blue self. He doesn't need Hank McCoy anymore - or rather, he doesn't need who Hank McCoy was. I feel like it'd be really funny meta-commentary if, instead of Edward G. Robinson, Hank goes as Nicholas Hoult or Kelsey Grammer, whichever one is funnier and in better taste.

Hank aces the tryout, but we end on him giving back Simon his sunglasses. "I hear they're worth $200." Simon grins, and Hank grins back. Let's be real, it's more than a little gay.

We end on Hank as a triumphant Avenger. Warm, confident, comfortable in his skin. Unlike the entire rest of the show/movie, it's animated, completely animated, but with the same voice cast. Hank is larger than life now. He's a character, but he's a character he likes.