James Brighton Society, Chapter 1: Pages 7-8

Page 7, 5 Panels- The Cloak Room, Washington D.C. Panel 1: We move to a side shot of the two of them moments later. You can see the chains emanating from the Mecha-man’s fingers wrapped around the Drunkard’s upper torso. His legs, along with the lower half of his body, can be seen pressing against the metal pole that lines the bar. Dorian can be seen on the right side of the panel view; his metal arm returning to its normal length while remaining standing in the same position he’s been since the previous page. In the background, you can see part of the window and the snow falling outside as he speaks. DORIAN [Cont., methodical, so that his point is heard]: As long as you're in here, any anger or prejudice projected toward any of these fine folks in here will not be tolerated for one damn second. Those who break this simple rule deal with me and, although I am a follower of peace... Panel 2: Same setting as the previous panel. The layout changes slightly, focusing in squarely on the two of them a second later as Dorian leans forward menacingly toward the instigating customer. You can see the Mecha-man’s quartz red glow a darker shade to indicate the great deal of anger in his eyes as he speaks. DORIAN [Cont., threateningly]: I'm not afraid of beating the hells out of you and hurling you through the window like Sid Hudson. Are we clear? DRUNKARD [Off-Panel, stammering]: Whuhmm... DORIAN [louder, Bubble 2]: I said!... Panel 3-4: Shift to a shot taken from over the left shoulder of the Mecha-man Dorian strictly of the Drunkard. At this point, the haze of drunkenness is now completely faded from the man’s eyes; now replaced with a sense of dread, well contained by the man under a veneer of complacency. In the next panel, we see him nodding quickly in compliance to the subtext of the owner’s words. DORIAN [Cont., Off-Panel; Panel 3]: Are. We. Clear? DRUNKARD [terrified, Panel 4]: Yes, yes! It--It's perfectly clear. DORIAN [Off-Panel, Panel 4]: Good… Panel 5: Action shot taken from outside the pub a few beats later. The setting and layout is similar to what we saw back in Page 5, with exception to the disappearance of Grem’s Emerald Isle in the parking spot he made on the street. You can see, bursting forth out of the doors, the Drunkard’s body flies out and lands face first on the cold, snow-filled sidewalk. DORIAN [Cont., yelling Off-Panel]: GET THE FUCK OUT. NOW! Page 8, 7 Panels- The Cloak Room, Washington D.C. Panel 1: Cut to a shot of Dorian a minute later behind the bar. In the background, you can see the mirror reflecting the action of the pub and the raucous music returning back to normal after the brief pause. He has a towel gripped in his left hand, which has retained its normal shape along with the rest of the Mecha-man’s arms, wiping off some dust and scratches from the counter. His eyes looking over in Grem’s direction as he works with a degree of care and concern for his friend. DORIAN [to Grem]: How are you feeling? GREM [Off-Panel, pulling the knife out of his side]: Meaargghhh... Panel 2-3: A two-part set of panels centered back on the immortal Irishman standing around the broken table that he landed. He has a faint degree of wooziness that is already overpowered by his body’s natural instinct to healing itself. In Panel 2, Grem is seen wiping off the remainder of blood that still lies on the upper half of the knife that was used to stab him. His focus split between the cleaning and addressing his friend. In the next panel, he casually tosses the weapon away from view and starts moving back to the bar area. GREM [Cont., Panel 2]: Sore as bathing in the river Styx. Also a wee bit rattled and annoyed at that fucking cheap shot he threw at me, not to mention those piece of shite union busters I've been fighting in Norfolk. GREM [Cont., touching the stab wound with his free hand; Panel 3]: Ah, man...I thought I got the design down pat on the Armor of Achilles! Panel 4: We shift to a rear shot of Mr. Allen as he moves back to his spot at the bar. The messenger bag he brought into the pub is still sitting in the stool next to it, untouched by all the chaos that went on over the past few minutes of time. Dorian is seen moving toward the tap to fill the Guinness order as his friend speaks. You can see in the foreground chunks of the broken table lying on the floor in front of him, which he sidesteps easily. GREM [pleased, looking down his right leg while feeling against the right side at belt level]: At least little Margaret was untouched while I was KO'd... GREM [Bubble 2]: And my Fragarach, thank the Gods! Panel 5-6: A two-part set of panels that cut back to Dorian at the bar within the course of a minute. In Panel 5, he splits his focus between the glass and Mr. Allen as he approaches his stool again; the glass just filling up near to the top with Guiness and foam. He lets out a brief chuckle at the statement at that moment. Then, in Panel 6, the Mecha-man turns his attention fully to the customer while holding the tall glass of beer in his right hand. DORIAN [to Grem, Panel 5]: There were some people in the crowd who were eyeing whatever goodies were inside that damn bag of yours. But they kept back… DORIAN [Cont., Panel 6]: Probably as a result of what happened to that dastardly chap from Baltimore who tried last time to rummage through it. Panel 7: Action shot of Grem taking his seat once more on the stool that he occupied early on in the Chapter. The notebook can be seen in front of him, strewn and messy slightly but still in one piece without any discernible bit of damage on it. In the background, seated at a place far away from the bar, you can see a pair of mysterious eyes in a suit looking on at the scene with great curiosity. GREM [slight smirk]: Oh yeah—the experimental ice grenade went off while I was in the loo. How are the repairs going, by the way? DORIAN [Off-Panel]: They're good. Just finished up while you were fighting for the "common man..."