INT. UNITED EARTH COMMAND – UNDERGROUND SUMMIT CHAMBER – GENEVA – NIGHT
A room without windows, built deep beneath the city.
Every nation's flag circles a steel table lit by cold, white lamps.
Presidents, prime ministers, generals, and scientists fill the seats.
Monitors along the walls show live footage of portals across the planet—each ringed by tanks and blinking missile arrays.
Narration: They called it the Longest Meeting. Forty hours without recess. No cameras. No public record. Only the survival of a species on the agenda.
U.N. Secretary-General: The portals remain dormant, but energy readings climb each hour. We need a single, united protocol. If one portal breaches, every second will count.
General Alvarez (Spain): We're already in range with combined artillery.
Marshal Tan (China): And nuclear payloads positioned on every continent.
Prime Minister Adebayo (Nigeria): Nukes risk collateral devastation. We need a shield, not a grave.
*Arguments erupt. Maps flash across the screens—blast radii, evacuation corridors, casualty estimates.
Each plan ends with the same statistic: unacceptable. *
President Kaito (Japan): Then we prepare both. Shields and strikes. The portals must be sealed or destroyed, whatever the cost.
The room falls silent. One by one, hands rise in grim agreement.
INT. UNITED STATES STRATEGIC OPERATIONS CENTER – SAME NIGHT
Rows of analysts track portal activity.
Energy spikes flicker across dozens of monitors in unpredictable patterns, like heartbeats skipping in sync.
Lead Analyst: Readings just jumped—again.
Commander: Same minute every hour, all portals worldwide.
Lead Analyst: Almost like... a countdown.
The commander doesn't answer. His knuckles whiten around the edge of the console.
INT. SOLIS FAMILY APARTMENT – MANILA – MORNING
The Solis family wakes to emergency broadcasts interrupting morning cartoons.
Anchor (TV): Global military drills will begin at noon. Citizens are advised to remain calm.
Mrs. Solis clutches a mug of coffee, staring at the scrolling red text.
Mr. Solis: They call it a drill so we don't panic.
Mrs. Solis: Are we supposed to wait and pretend it isn't real?
They glance at the photo of Arven and May on the fridge.
For a heartbeat, the kitchen feels smaller, the air heavier.
INT. DEVEREUX RESIDENCE – PARIS – AFTERNOON
Fritz sits cross-legged on the couch, game controller idle in her lap.
She watches a live stream of the UN building, soldiers forming barricades outside.
Fritz: They're really going to do something.
Mrs. Devereux: They'll do what they must.
She places a hand on Fritz's shoulder.
Mrs. Devereux: And we'll keep waiting for Grace. That's what we must do.
INT. VALDEZ FAMILY HOUSE – MANILA – NIGHT
The Valdez home hosts another neighborhood gathering.
Laughter and music fill the air, but every few minutes phones vibrate with fresh alerts.
Mr. Valdez strums his guitar, forcing a cheerful rhythm that barely hides the tension beneath.
Mrs. Valdez: Let's make tonight loud enough to drown the news.
Neighbors clap along, grateful for any excuse to forget the scrolling warnings.
INT. GABRIEL'S DOMAIN – OBSERVATION CHAMBER – SAME NIGHT
Gabriel stands before a wall of translucent screens.
Each displays a different city: soldiers marching, missiles loading, families hugging in candlelit vigils.
He clasps his hands behind his back, expression unreadable.
Gabriel: softly Nations align. Mortals tremble. My soldiers bleed unseen.
He tilts his head, a faint smile breaking the stillness.
Gabriel: The symphony reaches its next movement.
Behind him, the air bends—a silent reminder of the brothers who came before.
Gabriel does not turn. He simply watches Earth, waiting.
Narration:
The world held meetings, drew maps, counted weapons. And somewhere beyond sight, the next trumpet waited for permission to sound.
To be continued...