OPENING SEQUENCE — "THE FIRE IN THE RIVER"
Nice, sunny evening — rural Tennessee.
Golden light spills through dense trees. Cicadas hum. Peaceful. Ordinary.
("Raydar" – JID plays faintly in the background, muffled, like it's coming from somewhere nearby.)
The scene pans to a rundown suburban home, half-swallowed by the woods. Paint peeling. Windows dark.
BASEMENT
Dim. Damp.
A lone man sits hunched over a cluttered table, hands trembling as he prepares a new synthetic drug—unmarked, unstable. His breathing is shallow. Anticipatory.
He injects.
For a moment—nothing.
Then his pupils dilate.
His jaw tightens.
A low growl escapes his throat.
Something inside him snaps.
His hunger isn't for food.
It's for chaos.
THE TENNESSEE RIVER
The man stumbles out of the house, now moving with purpose.
He crosses the river barefoot, water steaming faintly around his legs as he wades through.
By the time he reaches the other side, his smile is wrong.
CAL JOHNSON RECREATION CENTER – NIGHT
A basketball game echoes through the gym—laughter, sneakers squeaking, the sound of youth.
The doors slam open.
The man staggers in.
Sweat pours off him. His eyes dart wildly. He breathes like an animal.
The game stops.
A group of teenage friends stare, confused… uneasy.
"Yo, what's wrong with him?"
Whispers ripple through the gym.
Uneasy laughter.
Renzo—confident, athletic, protective—steps forward.
"Hey man, you can't be in here. Get off the court."
Renzo shoves him lightly.
The man doesn't fall.
Instead, he grins.
Slowly, deliberately, he places one hand on Renzo's shoulder.
Drool drips from his mouth—thick, viscous.
It hits the court.
SIZZLE.
The hardwood smokes.
Renzo's eyes widen.
What the hell…
Instinct takes over. Renzo starts throwing punches—clean shots to the body, fast and practiced.
The man staggers… but barely reacts.
The gym freezes.
Then—casually—the man reaches into his pocket.
A withered cigarette.
He lights it.
Inhales.
And instantly—
WHOOM.
Flames erupt from his body.
The blast scorches Renzo's back, sending him screaming across the court.
Panic explodes.
One of the friends yanks a handgun from his backpack in the bleachers.
Gunshots crack through the gym.
The flaming man lurches backward, a bullet tearing through his forearm. He howls—not in pain, but in rage—and crashes through a side exit, vanishing into the night.
SUNSPHERE – KNOXVILLE
Silence.
The man now stands atop the Sunsphere, flames gone, smoke curling from his skin.
The city glows beneath him in the fading sunset.
His breathing slows.
The high fades.
Confusion replaces madness.
For the first time—he looks afraid.
SMASH CUT
10 YEARS LATER
A digital article scrolls closed:
"THE KNOXVILLE FIREMAN:
Unsolved Case Still Haunts City"
A tablet clicks shut.
A city bus rattles forward.
A young man—Mani—sits by the window, calm, focused, headphones on.
Business textbooks open on his lap.
He exhales, steady.
First day of work.
Unaware that the fire that once touched Knoxville
has already shaped the world he's walking into.