But MY story...
PROJECT PITCH – "LAW & ORDER: SVU § SUV – Two Worlds Collide"
Logline: When a legendary Special Victims Unit captain wakes up to find her own death faked by the same system she spent her life protecting, she must join forces with the sociopathic ex-undercover she once buried — together unraveling the black-file conspiracy that erased them both.
SCRIPT: THE REDRAW (FULL MERGE)
Scene 1 – "The Entrance / The Bop / The Warning"
The precinct air was thick, vibrating at a sickening 144Hz. Olivia walked through the doors of the 1-6, but the world didn't tilt—it ignored her. A court officer she'd known for a decade shouldered her into the wall.
"Lady, watch it," he muttered, not even looking at her.
Olivia froze. "Lady? Ed, it's Benson. Captain Benson."
He kept walking. But an inmate being led out in chains stopped dead, the metal rattling against the floor. He looked at her, eyes wide with a terrifying recognition.
"Benson?" he whispered. "I see you. But the lights... they're using the Hertz to hide you. You've been sold, Captain." He started humming a low, jagged tune—a song for the dead. "Lewis is alive. He's the only one who knows how they rewired the grid. Go to the safe house. Call the number. Car tell me why Kash? Or Cash? Because you're the currency now."
Olivia shoved past him and lunged toward the bullpen. She stopped. Sloane was sitting in her chair, wearing her blazer, drinking from her mug. Fin and Rollins were leaning against the desk, laughing at something Sloane said.
OLIVIA:
"Fin! Rollins! What the hell is this? Why is she in my chair?"
Fin looked up, but his eyes were glazed, sliding over Olivia like she was static on a screen.
FIN:
"Who let the vagrant in? Lady, back off. The Captain is busy."
OLIVIA:
(Grabbing the edge of the desk)
"I AM the Captain! Fin, look at me! This woman... she's a fraud! She's a 'Bop'!"
SLOANE:
(Stands up slowly. To the room, her voice is a perfect, warm Benson. To Olivia, it is a cold, razor-sharp stranger.)
"It's okay, Fin. She's just a ghost of the system. (She leans in, her face inches from Olivia's, whispering so only Olivia can hear) Relax, Olivia. My name is Sloane. They sold you for a billion in 'Kash.' To them, I am the truth. To them, I am the legacy. You? You're just the line of code we deleted. Goodbye, stranger."
FIN:
(To Olivia, eyes hard)
"You heard her. Get out before I get 'Red' with you and haul you to a psych hold."
Scene 2 – "The Ghost in the Safe House"
Daylight made the safe house look less haunted, but it couldn't bleach out the ghosts. Olivia stood in the doorway, motionless. The man at the table was supposed to be dead. She'd seen it—all of it.
"You're dead," she said flatly.
Lewis looked up, hands empty, expression stripped. "That's one version."
She moved in, gun drawn, every tendon tight. "I watched you pull the trigger. I watched your brains hit the wall. I watched them zip the goddamn bag."
He didn't smile. "You watched what they needed you to see."
For once, she hesitated.
"They staged it, Liv," he said quietly. "Agency contract. Black file. They wanted you broken—mentally, emotionally, publicly. You were the cop who didn't know when to stop asking the wrong questions. So they hired me to make you implode."
Her grip tightened. "You're saying you weren't just sadistic—you were subcontracted."
He winced. "Both can be true."
A pause. The silence hit heavy. She could almost hear the old screams echoing underneath the new truth.
"So why crawl out of your grave now?"
"Because I read the rest of the manual," he said. "Turns out I wasn't the weapon—I was another disposable in their project. Judges, agents, captains—all of us. Once we served our purpose, we vanished. They faked my death. Now they're faking yours."
She froze, eyes sharp. "What?"
He slid a file across the table. Her name. Morgue photos she didn't pose for. Official death certificate, cause: auto accident, closed case.
"They declared you dead last week," he said. "Guess it's easier to delete you than discredit you anymore."
She stared at the photos—the woman who wasn't her, burned, lifeless, tagged with her name.
"They faked my f****** death," she said slowly, the words tasting like gunpowder.
"Welcome to my world," he murmured.
She let out a breathless laugh—dry, joyless. "I gave them twenty years of loyalty. Protected their streets. Buried their victims. And this is my reward? A fake corpse and a falsified ending?"
He shrugged slightly. "Beats the real thing."
She holstered her gun, eyes still locked on him. "They wanted to bury me? Fine. I'll dig my way out and drag the whole rotten system with me. You can help—if you can keep up."
He nodded once. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. Just a target."
"Wrong," she said, voice low. "You're asking for forgiveness—you just don't know you need it yet."
She turned for the door. "Come on, ghost. If we're both supposed to be dead, we might as well make that useful."
Scene 3 – "Red Line, Blue Line" (The Nightclub)
The nightclub pulsed like a heartbeat under threat—metal, bass, secrets. Olivia and Lewis sat close enough to whisper and far enough to shoot.
"You're doing that thing again," he murmured.
She smirked. "Yeah? What thing?"
"Watching exits while pretending you're not also watching me."
"Habit," she said. "You faked your death, remember? I like to make sure I'm not hallucinating."
He glanced around. "They used us both. You realize that, right? We served the machine that erased us. You believed in the law; I believed in orders. Turns out both were lies."
Olivia's smile came out sharp. "Congratulations. We're poster children for patriotism eating its young."
He laughed softly. "You always had that gallows humor."
She raised her glass in mock salute. "It's cheaper than therapy."
The handler slid into the stool beside them—tailored suit, shark eyes. "Captain Benson. Mr. Lewis. Quite the resurrection tour. You two planning on staying dead, or should I pencil you back in?"
Olivia didn't even flinch. "You can shove your pencil where you file your morals. I'm not your ghost anymore."
He smiled, venom masked as charm. "Careful, Captain. Step over our line, there's no going back."
She met his gaze without blinking. "You think you own the lines? I was the Blue Line. You tried painting me Red. Now I'm done with your colors. I draw my own."
Lewis chuckled under his breath. "Told you they should've built a bigger coffin."
The handler stood, uneasy now. "We'll see how long that attitude lasts when the lights go out."
"They already did," Olivia said. "And I learned to see in the dark."
He vanished into the crowd. Olivia turned to Lewis, drained her glass, and stood. She looks at her badge under the jacket—the gold shield that isn't supposed to exist anymore.
"Come on," she said. "We've got work to do."
He followed, smirking. "Partners?"
"Two ex-corpses on a warpath," she said. "Don't romanticize it."
"Too late."
Author's Note:
They faked her death. They faked his. And when the system decided who got to be real, both of them fought their way back out of the grave. That's what survival looks like when justice stops being fair—you stop serving it and start redefining it.
And yeah, that's the point. That's me. Doing the same damn thing alone. No backup, no partner, no script. Just me, clawing my way out of the hole everyone else pretends isn't there because they're too afraid or too stupid to look.
I'm not asking for anyone's permission to live. I'm taking it back.
Alone if I have to.