Chapter Text
101 EXT. THE WOODS -- DAYTIME
The forest is quiet. Trees stand tall and erect. Above, the skies are grey. Grey as the thin mist hovering in the air.
TITLE: ROMANIA 1796
VARIOUS CLOSE UPS of dying leaves, skinny branches, and gently streaming brooks. It’s a cold autumn day in Romania. A FOX inches towards one of these brooks and laps at the water. It doesn’t look healthy. No amount of water will bring back its soft red fur or put meat on its bones.
The animal scrounges along the forest undergrowth. Poking its nose wherever it can, searching for food. A grub. A mouse. Anything to help it last one more day before winter.
The fox PERKS its head up. Ears twitch. Leaves RUSTLE in the distance then silence. The fox carries on with its business. Too weak, too hungry to care.
We PULL BACK and see TWO HUNTERS with muskets stalking the unsuspecting fox. Burly, stout men who live off the land. Dressed in furs as thick as their beards. They stop and crouch behind a bush. A knowing look is exchanged between the two of them.
One hunter RAISES HIS MUSKET. He aims it at the fox who remains unaware. He takes a slow, easy breath.
CLOSE UP of his fingertip on the trigger. He begins to SLOWLY pull it...
A sudden CRASH echoes throughout the forest. The ground SHAKES and RUMBLES. Both hunters TRIP AND CLAMBER onto each other. The fox RUNS off, smart enough to at least do that.
Slowly, silence falls over the trees once again. The hunters stand up, confused. Shaken. Something catches their attention above. They LOOK UP...
HUNTERS’ POV: a hoard of CROWS fly over the treetops. There’s more than a dozen of them. Far too many to be a simple migration. They CACKLE and CAW.
The hunters stare. This is a warning sign--one they do not take. Both men FOLLOW THE CROWS deeper into the forest. Rats following the pied piper.
They trek up a HILLTOP, swatting aside low hanging branches and bushes. Up, up they climb. At last, the hunters conquer their small mountain. They raise their heads.
Eyes WIDEN in disbelief. One hunter lifts a shaky hand and CROSSES HIMSELF. As though uncertain of his own faith.
HUNTERS’ POV: A VISTA of the Romanian woodlands. Faded green against a grey sky. Atop ANOTHER HILL, entire trees have been DESTROYED by the very thing which takes their place.
An unnatural, darkened STRUCTURE looms in the distance. Familiar in all the wrong, awful ways. Its sharp towers pierce the misty sky.
102 EXT. FARMHOUSE -- DAYTIME
Early morning. A young PEASANT GIRL steps out of a simple cottage-esque farmhouse carrying a PAIL.
She walks around the back towards a STABLE. The farm girl YAWNS. The start of another long day.
INSIDE THE STABLE are a few cows. She lazily scratches behind their ears before grabbing a WOODEN STOOL. She places it near one of the cows then DROPS THE PAIL underneath its udder.
The farm girl SITS. Her eyes are PARTIALLY CLOSED as she milks the cow. Sleep deprivation won’t let her focus, but she doesn’t need to. Her fingers move on their own. She’s done this hundreds of times before. She’ll do it a hundred more times.
The cow lets out a PAINED GRUNT. The farm girl pats its leg. Maybe she accidentally squeezed too hard. She looks down at the pail. Her eyes and mouth OPEN WIDE WITH SHOCK. The farm girl SHRIEKS AND KICKS the pail. She begins to HYPERVENTILATE.
CLOSE UP of the pail turned on its side. SPLATTERS OF BLOOD stain the hay covered ground.
103 EXT. THE ROADS -- NIGHTTIME
Evening. A HORSE DRAWN CARRIAGE drives down a winding country road, bumping along the way.
INSIDE THE CARRIAGE are two nobles dressed in formal late 18th century European attire. A man and a woman. They can barely keep still with all the bumps in the road.
NOBLEWOMAN
Are you certain this is the right way?
NOBLEMAN
It’s very hard to get lost in Romania these days, my love. We will be fine. Just a bit late to the occasion, that’s all.
The carriage SHAKES AND ROCKS from side to side, harder than before. The noblewoman almost falls into the nobleman’s lap.
NOBLEMAN
(banging on the roof)
Driver! Would you please be a little gentler on the reins? The lady is of delicate sensibilities.
(beat)
Driver?
Still no answer. The carriage CRAWLS TO A STOP. The man and woman turn to each other confused. Apprehensive. Did something happen...?
They both STEP OUTSIDE. It’s quiet. The man checks the front of the carriage and finds... no one. The driver is gone.
NOBLEMAN
(angrily)
Bastard. I should have paid him in full when we arrived.
He turns back to the woman. She doesn’t notice how the driver’s gone missing. She doesn’t notice anything at all. Her eyes are WIDE. Her bottom lip TREMBLES. What does she see?
NOBLEMAN
Dear? Is everything alright?
The woman begins to CONVULSE. Spasms wrack her body. She FALLS but the man CATCHES HER in time. She can only speak in INCOHERENT GARGLES.
NOBLEMAN
(concerned)
Speak to me! What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong?
The woman’s eyes ROLL BACK--not completely, but far enough. Finally, she speaks as though in a trance.
NOBLEWOMAN
(whispering, continuous)
Blood demands blood demands flesh demands blood demands flesh demands flesh demands blood—
She repeats the same thing over and over again... then STOPS. Eyes remain rolled back while BLOOD TINGED FOAM drips out of her mouth.
The man looks down in horror. He SCREAMS and DROPS THE WOMAN. She lies in the dirt like a ragdoll.
NOBLEMAN
(shouting)
IS ANYONE OUT THERE? ANYONE? WE NEED HELP! SOMEONE HELP US! PLEASE!
PAN BACK as the man continues his desperate begging. Someone will find them. Someone has to.
104 EXT. CITY SQUARE -- DAYTIME
Late afternoon. The sky is a combination of sunlight and clouds. City folk dressed in casual late 18th century European attire go about their day. Blissful. Unaware. A bell tower CHIMES loudly.
TITLE: BUCHAREST 1797
MALE V.O.
This cannot go on.
105 INT. ASSEMBLY ROOM
WIDE SHOT of five men sitting around a table in a dimly lit room. Some are old but most are middle age. These are the boyars of Romania, similar to lords. They are responsible for countless lives. They’re not very good at their job. Despite being secluded, they speak in hushed tones just in case their own subjects can hear them.
BOYAR #1
(the young angry one)
There are bodies on the roads. Filth and disease have ravaged entire crops. Our poorest farmers have been forced off their lands with nowhere else to go. Some will not survive another winter.
BOYAR #2
(the blunt one)
And those who cannot leave say they taste blood and excrement in their water.
BOYAR #3
(the cruel one)
They are common serfs. If their labours cannot provide for us, then let them settle somewhere else.
BOYAR #1
Where? Transylvania? Will they crawl back to our friends the Austrians?
BOYAR #4
(the old wise one)
We have already suffered enough losses. War and occupation have torn this country asunder. Anymore and we shall become destitute.
BOYAR #5
(the naïve one)
It’s been months since the first sightings--perhaps it is time we made an appeal to our Holy Roman Emperor.
BOYAR #4
(dismissive)
Francis will not raise a single jeweled finger to offer assistance.
BOYAR #3
If Leopold would not listen to Transylvanian pleas, what makes you think his son will send defenses against our greatest evil? What’s happening miles away in France is soiling his breeches enough.
BOYAR #1
Has word of these happenings reached the Belmonts?
BOYAR #3
The Belmont legacy is a relic of old times. Their purpose is ornamental, nothing more.
BOYAR #1
Ornamental or not, we cannot forget what their son did seven years ago. Gentlemen, we are out of options and out of time.
BOYAR #2
Their eldest is still missing.
(beat)
No one has seen him since autumn. Others like him were sent, but none have come back.
Heavy pause. All five men sit UNCOMFORTABLY, avoiding eye contact with one another.
We PAN BACK and see how much smaller they look surrounded by the empty room.
BOYAR #5
(defeated)
Perhaps we should pray for Belmont’s safe return. For our sakes and the sake of Romania herself.
FADE TO BLACK
106 EXT. THE WOODS -- DAYTIME
CLOSE UP of a wooded river. The water runs clear, gentle, and calm. A pair of BLACK BOOTS walk along the riverbank, RUSTLING a few bushes.
PAN BACK. It’s a bright spring day. We see the backside of a HOODED FIGURE as they make their way up the river. They KNEEL as if to inspect the water.
CLOSE UP of the figure’s profile. Their true identity is obscured by a large HOODED CLOAK, but there are a few noticeable elements--dark brown skin, long strands of wavy dark hair swaying in the breeze, and some feminine features. Early 20s.
Around their neck is a loose necklace of beads and four sacred Indian animals--the monkey, the tiger, the elephant, and the bull. The entire necklace is made from wood.
CLOSE UP of the river. An unknown substance begins to flow down, growing darker and redder. BLOOD.
The figure looks ahead. They STAND and continue up the river. The source of the blood isn’t very far.
There are ANIMALS floating in the water. Rabbits, deer, a variety of woodland creatures. Some have been taken by disease, others GORED by something much larger. Even predators can be seen amongst the corpses. CLOSE UP of the exact same fox from SCENE ONE. It’s been dead for some time now.
The figure seems visibly UNSETTLED but remains calm. They RAISE their head. Off in the far distance, a HOARD of crows, vultures, and other birds CIRCLE above something. Scavengers waiting for death.
The figure RUNS towards the birds. Towards a much DENSER and DARKER part of the forest.
FADE TO BLACK
107 INT. CATACOMBS
This is a familiar place. Crumbling towers of BROKEN wheels, mechanisms, and cogs form a dark chamber of ruin. A clock tower underground. We DESCEND further through a hole at the bottom.
Next room. The carpets have all but DISINTEGRATED. The ornate architecture can barely hold itself together. There’s RUBBLE everywhere.
CLOSE UP of a broken electric light FLICKERING on and off. No one has been here in a very long time.
At the far end of the room sits a PEDESTAL. It holds a large COFFIN, just as worn and dusty as everything else.
Silence. The coffin lid suddenly MOVES. It drops with a loud THUD. CLOSE UP of a hand RISING from within. Long sharp nails GRIP at the sides. Out tumbles...
Alucard. Nothing about him has changed. Everything about him has changed. Shirtless, wearing only the same tight black pants and a matching cloak. His hair has turned white and tangled. He doesn’t just look tired--he looks HAGGARD.
Alucard’s legs can barely hold himself. He VOMITS. The cloak is far too big for him. More like a blanket. He WRAPS IT around his trembling body. He’s confused. Disoriented. But most of all--weak.
He turns towards the exit. A few more RAGGED breaths. Nothing else to do but go up. Alucard reaches into the coffin and pulls out his SWORD. It’s better as a walking stick.
He STUMBLES with every step. This was so much easier before.
108 EXT. GRESIT CHURCH -- NIGHTTIME
Alucard steps OUTSIDE. Clearly exhausted from his journey out of the catacombs. His bloodshot eyes open wider. He remembers this city. Yet he’s ALONE. He walks forward.
We follow Alucard through DESOLATE STREETS. He looks so small in comparison. Broken windows, crumbling houses, rats SCURRYING down the alleyways. A BODY sits in one of the doorways covered in blankets. We CLOSE IN on their face. Splotchy skin. Dried blood around their mouth. Flies on their glassy open eyes. Dead. Alucard KEEPS WALKING.
109 EXT. GRESIT CITY SQUARE -- NIGHTTIME
The square is empty. Alucard takes one step--SQUISH. A DEAD RAT lies under his boot. More are scattered along the cobblestones. No reaction from Alucard. He’s seen far worse.
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
Who are you?
Alucard looks up. An OLD MAN stares at him suspiciously. His mouth is barely visible under his massive beard. Two sickly horses pull along a RICKETY CART full of corpses.
THE DEAD COLLECTOR
(hostile)
I’ll ask again. Who are you?
No answer from Alucard. Still no expression either. He’s so fucking tired.
PAN BACK. The two men stand a fair distance from each other.
CUT TO BLACK
THE DEAD COLLECTOR (O.B.)
Who are you?
110 EXT. GRESIT CITY SQUARE -- NIGHTTIME
CLOSE UP of a small fire.
THE DEAD COLLECTOR (O.S.)
You’ll have to forgive me.
The two men sit around the fire. Alucard holds the cloak tight around his body. The old man seems less suspicious of him. Still, he’s wary. Something isn’t right with this wretched young man. He STOKES the fire with another stick.
THE DEAD COLLECTOR
For a moment I thought you was one of those bodies comin’ back to life. This place tends to attract such unnatural happenins’.
CLOSE UP of Alucard’s profile. The lighting from the fire makes his placid features look slightly more SKELETAL. A vision of apathetic death.
ALUCARD
(beat)
What happened?
THE DEAD COLLECTOR
Same thing that happened to all the other old cities. Once this goddamned plague hit months ago and the sanitariums overflowed, they came here. If you care to stay and look around, boy, you’ll find some of the buildings are still bein’ used as sick houses. But Gresit’s been abandoned then rediscovered for centuries now.
ALUCARD
(whispers in realization)
Centuries...
THE DEAD COLLECTOR
What’s that you said?
ALUCARD
(deflecting)
Why are you here?
THE DEAD COLLECTOR
To gather up the dead. Get ‘em off the streets and out of the sick houses so more’ll take their places. The first months I just dug some shallow graves for ‘em. Now there’s no more room in the dirt, so I burn ‘em.
(beat)
The poor were the first to go, you know. That’s how it happens. Always the poorest. Yet I’m still here. Sullyin’ my hands so that those boyars and King Francis don’t have to. When I die--and it’ll be soon--I'll already be in good company with the Reaper.
Alucard quietly STARES at the fire. He’s met Death before. Not this version of course.
THE DEAD COLLECTOR
What about you, boy? You still haven’t told me your business.
ALUCARD
I...
(beat)
Home. I need to go home.
THE DEAD COLLECTOR
Don’t we all.
CLOSE UP of Alucard’s intense eyes. The fire REFLECTS in his golden irises.
WE JUMP TO a series of QUICK FLASHING IMAGES--DOZENS of dead bodies--Alucard SCREAMING, CRYING, COVERED IN BLOOD--A figure with the BELMONT CREST on their back CARRIES HIS LIMP BODY into his coffin--
CUT BACK to the present.
ALUCARD
(whispering)
I should not be here.
THE DEAD COLLECTOR
Speak up, boy. Don’t mumble so much.
ALUCARD
(standing up)
I need one of your horses.
THE DEAD COLLECTOR
Oh, well... they’re not much. Just as old and frail as myself—
ALUCARD
They will do.
No more talking. The old man STANDS then UNHOOKS one of his two horses off his cart. Alucard GRABS his sword, attaching it to his hip. He HOISTS himself onto the horse.
THE DEAD COLLECTOR
You’ve listened to this old man ramble on for long enough. But be careful on the roads. Folks talk of strange things. Stranger than cities filled with the dead.
Alucard NODS before RIDING OFF. His horse TROTS across the square. The old man watches them leave.
THE DEAD COLLECTOR
Mm. Yes. Strange things. Strange young man...
The old man moves on. His horse STRUGGLES to pull the cart.
111 EXT. THE ROADS -- NIGHTTIME
Alucard and the horse SLOWLY make their way down an empty winding road--the exact same road from SCENE 103. It’s lined with DEAD TREES. The horse can’t keep its head up very high. Neither can Alucard.
He HUNCHES his back. The worst posture to have while riding a horse. Even the slightest bounce or stumble makes him WINCE IN DISCOMFORT. Walking might have been faster.
112 EXT. THE WOODS -- NIGHTTIME
They wander into a dense forest. The road ENDS. There’s not even a clear path in sight. TOWERING TREES dwarf Alucard and the horse. MOONLIGHT guides them.
VOICE (O.S.)
(whispering)
Prince—
The horse comes to a STOP. Alucard’s eyes perk open. He turns his head around. They’re alone. Yet he hears the voice again LOUDER this time.
VOICE (O.S.)
(rasping)
Our prince--
Alucard looks down.
Something CRAWLS OUT from under the bushes. Followed by another, then another. They’re too FLESHY, too BLOODY, to be ghosts or spirits. Lesser night creatures with MELTED bodies. Some look like the malformed bat fetuses which fell from the sky the night Targoviste fell. Others are more HUMAN SHAPED. Their mouths DROOP OPEN.
NIGHT CREATURE #1
(rasping)
Come home--
NIGHT CREATURE #2
(groaning)
Our prince--come home--
Alucard INHALES SHARPLY. His face TWISTS IN DISGUST. He’s seen these things before. The creatures continue to moan.
OVERHEAD SHOT of more night creatures crawling on the ground. Dozens of them SURROUND Alucard and the horse.
NIGHT CREATURES
(in unison)
Blood demands blood--flesh consumes flesh--
Alucard KICKS the horse’s side but it won’t move. There is no escape. A few creatures REACH for the horse’s legs.
NIGHT CREATURE #3
Blood for blood--
NIGHT CREATURE #4
Flesh for flesh--
The horse lets out a DISTRESSED WHINNY. Alucard grabs his sword but the horse won’t stay calm. It THROWS HIM OFF. He FALLS with a loud GRUNT. But it’s not him the creatures want.
Alucard LIFTS HIS HEAD. We watch as the horse’s unfortunate fate plays out. The creatures DRAG IT TO THE GROUND. They TEAR at its flesh. Slowly. The horse doesn’t fight back.
NIGHT CREATURES
(in unison)
Blood--flesh--blood--flesh--
ALUCARD
(angrily)
NO!
Alucard SCRAMBLES ONTO HIS FEET. He RUNS and begins SLASHING HIS SWORD at the creatures. Every swing is more taxing than the last.
NIGHT CREATURES
(in unison)
Prince--our prince--
ALUCARD
(desperately shouting)
Leave me be!
The creatures begin to SLITHER back into the shadows. Alucard STOPS to take a breath. The sword is HEAVY in his hand. He’s too late. The horse is nothing but a pile of BLOODY FLESH, EXPOSED ORGANS, AND TORN LIMBS.
ALUCARD
(breathing heavily)
No--
NIGHT CREATURES (O.S.)
(whispering)
Come back--come home prince--come home--
Alucard LOOKS AHEAD at the dark forest before him. Guess it’s time to walk the rest of the way.
113 EXT. THE WOODS -- NIGHTTIME
WIDE SHOT of Alucard emerging from out of the forest. His eyes are DOWNCAST as he walks into a CLEARING.
Alucard COVERS his nose and mouth, gagging. He raises his head. Eyes WIDEN IN SHOCK.
He’s come out of one forest only to enter into another one. A forest of BODIES. Fresh, bleeding. DISPLAYED ONTO STAKES in various positions. Some struggled, but most accepted their fates. The majority are men while others are women.
BEYOND THE STAKES sits the entrance to DRACULA’S CASTLE, larger, darker, and far more imposing than it’s ever been before. The castle itself BLOCKS OUT THE MOON.
Alucard briefly hesitates. He WALKS FORWARD down the rows of bodies. He can’t stare at them for too long.
CLOSE UP of Alucard stepping into PUDDLES OF BLOOD. There’s so much, the ground is SOFT. His boots SINK into the bloody mud.
WIDE SHOT of Alucard arriving at the front stairs. This feels very familiar. As though he’s retracing someone else’s steps. Someone who was very dear to him...
He doesn’t need to knock. The doors OPEN. Alucard enters before THE DOORS ABRUPTLY CLOSE. Welcome home.
114 INT. MAIN CASTLE HALL...?
Instead of stepping into a familiar grand hall, Alucard is SURROUNDED BY AN EMPTY VOID. FLOATING CANDELABRAS provide the only source of dim candlelight. Alucard CAUTIOUSLY walks through the darkness. He doesn’t get very far before STOPPING.
FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
Did you enjoy your homecoming gift?
In front of Alucard sits MIRANDA in her usual chair. Nothing about her has changed either. Not her age nor her attire. She seems... comfortable. Content.
MIRANDA
I must say, I’m shocked you couldn’t smell me from out there. But it has been far too long, prince.
ALUCARD
(beat)
Do you still answer to the name “Miranda”?
MIRANDA
I’ve had so many names in the past. Miranda, Djuvara--but I’ve grown rather fond of this particular form.
ALUCARD
What are you doing here? Where is my father?
MIRANDA
You know I can’t answer that.
ALUCARD
Then why has the castle returned?
MIRANDA
You should be asking yourself that. After all the trouble you went through just to hide from my eyes. To hide from yourself.
ALUCARD
(deflecting)
You forced me to come.
MIRANDA
I never forced you to do anything. It was only you. You left that coffin and dragged that poor excuse of a living body onto these front steps by your own free will.
ALUCARD
(shouting)
No! This should not be happening! I never should have awoken.
MIRANDA
Yet it is. And yet you did. Because this castle and yourself are inexorably linked. Your blood runs through its walls. When one rises, so too must the other. Of course, things are never quite as one remembers them. But you are amongst family now. Welcome home blessed prince.
Alucard’s eyes NARROW.
ALUCARD
(pissed off)
I have no family here. This is not my home.
He POINTS HIS SWORD and LUNGES towards Miranda. She doesn’t react. Not even when she RAISES A HAND and STOPS THE SWORD before it can reach her face. Alucard is frozen in place--same as his sword.
Miranda keeps her hand raised but HOLDS NOTHING between her two fingers. She doesn’t need to.
MIRANDA
Careful, prince. 300 years is a long time to keep one’s strength dormant.
Alucard TWITCHES and GRUNTS but still can’t move.
MIRANDA
Perhaps you should sit down as well.
Miranda RAISES A SINGLE FINGER. In a split second, Alucard is violently THROWN INTO THE AIR. The sword CLATTERS against the floor.
He doesn’t get a chance to breathe before he falls back down. Before Alucard can land, he HOVERS INCHES OFF THE FLOOR IMMOBILE. One move and he falls right onto his face.
ALUCARD
(through clenched teeth)
You fucking hag--
MIRANDA
Watch your tongue. You will soon find that Death is the kindest being in this castle.
Alucard is TOSSED against the candelabras. Then AGAIN towards the opposite side. The LOOSE BLACK CLOAK falls off his shoulders as he slumps to the floor.
MIRANDA (O.S.)
Are we done?
Something invisible GRABS HIS HAIR and DRAGS HIM across the floor. Alucard’s LIMP BODY hovers in front of Miranda. Both arms and both arms are STRETCHED, as though unseen ropes are pulling them. Alucard is forced to LOOK UP.
MIRANDA
Are you ready to behave now?
ALUCARD
(beat)
--Eat shit in hell.
(Trevor would be so proud.)
Alucard’s sword SHAKES then RISES UP into Miranda’s hands. Her fingers barely touch the blade.
MIRANDA
Such a shame, Alucard. With all the powers bestowed upon you by your father, you still insist on this plaything. Though now it’s hardly more than a relic--much like its owner. Bendable. Perhaps even breakable.
The sword HOVERS in midair. Alucard is forced to watch as Miranda CLENCHES HER HANDS and...
The blade LOUDLY CRACKS IN HALF.
CLOSE UP of Alucard’s WIDE PAINED EYES. A second SICKENING CRACK is heard.
It’s not a scream which escapes Alucard’s OPEN MOUTH. Rather a CHOKED GASP IN AGONY. His back is BENT UNNATURALLY.
MIRANDA (O.S.)
You came here. You expected the castle to submit to you, but not you to it.
Alucard DROPS THROUGH THE FLOOR into a dark abyss. The BROKEN PIECES of his sword follow him downwards. Miranda WATCHES them fall.
MIRANDA
Now your corpse shall join many others in remaking its very foundations.
Alucard CONTINUES TO FALL surrounded by the empty void. Falling. Falling...
FADE TO BLACK
113 INT. UNDERGROUND CAVERNS -- NIGHTTIME
We PAN DOWN along a deep chasm. DIM MOONLIGHT shines from above as we continue downwards.
OVERHEAD SHOT of Alucard lying upon a stony wet ground. BEATEN and BROKEN. His SHATTERED SWORD is nearby.
CLOSE UP of Alucard’s BATTERED FACE as he raises his head out of a shallow puddle.
He tries to MOVE, GROANING. He fails to stand up, STUMBLING right back into the water with a SPLASH. Alucard GRITS HIS TEETH in pain and frustration. Fine. If he can’t walk, then he’ll have to CRAWL.
Alucard PULLS HIMSELF along more rocky wet ground. A sudden NOISE in the darkness catches his attention. Water splashes in the distance. He hears an INHUMAN SNARL. It’s close now. Closer. Coming straight towards him...
A creature EMERGES FROM THE SHADOWS. Standing upright on two legs. Murky coloured scales for skin. Two IMPOSSIBLY LARGE EYES and a jaw full of sharp teeth. One ugly motherfucker.
The cave troll stands in Alucard’s way. It looks directly at him but does nothing. Could it be blind? Alucard tests that theory by crawling forward.
The sound of movement ALERTS THE TROLL. Alucard immediately stops just as it LUNGES for him. Landing on all fours, it listens. Both eyes are a MILKY WHITE.
Alucard remains PERFECTLY STILL, even when the troll CRAWLS ON TOP OF HIM, pushing his face further into a puddle of dirty water. He TREMBLES but doesn’t dare breathe.
It lets out a GUTTURAL CRY. Nothing here. The troll moves on, freeing Alucard. Now it’s time for him to move on as well. Only much, much more carefully than before.
Deeper through the caverns he slowly crawls. A couple more PATROLLING CAVE TROLLS come into view. Alucard manages to avoid them, STOPPING whenever he makes a sound. There’s so many of these assholes, surrounding him on all sides.
Alucard rests for a moment, BREATHING HEAVILY. Every inch of him hurts. Does he even know where he’s going? He raises his head and SQUINTS as a FAINT LIGHT shines onto his face.
Up ahead is the source of the strange light--a familiar TEAR IN THE WALL that wasn’t there before. Inside the tear are FLASHING COLOURS. Bright and very, very loud. This is the worst possible thing to happen right now.
The cave trolls TURN THEIR HEADS and RUN towards Alucard. Shit. Before he can panic, a distant voice coming from the tear calls to him.
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
(shouting)
Take my hand! Take it!
Alucard doesn’t have a choice. Despite his BROKEN BACK, he picks himself up and THROWS HIMSELF towards the flashing tear in the wall. The cave trolls are CLOSING IN.
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
(shouting)
Just take my hand!
A HAND EMERGES from the tear. Wrinkled but strong, wearing some rings on a few of their fingers.
Alucard REACHES. The cave trolls RUN.
CLOSE UP of Alucard GRABBING onto the hand...
He’s pulled INTO THE WALL before the trolls can reach him. The tear CLOSES, leaving the trolls in darkness and silence.
END OF EPISODE ONE