NPCW: Behind the Curtain — Episode 015: “Evolutions”

 

NPCW: Behind the Curtain — Episode 015: “Evolutions”

NPCW continues to evolve as its leaders confront shifting rosters, changing relationships, and difficult decisions about the company's future.

While new alliances begin taking shape behind closed doors, old connections reveal that some threats may run much deeper than anyone realized.

And far from the arena, an investigation uncovers a development that could change the entire game. 

Previously on Behind the Curtain…

NPCW was shaken by the death of Ardan Vantrell, forcing Lucien Vantrell to step forward as the Circle’s new representative—and revealing a colder, more calculating side of the former executive.
With Lucien leaving the Executive Vice President role, Alton Bell was unexpectedly elevated into one of NPCW’s most powerful offices.
Meanwhile, concerns surrounding Elias Coldmere and Seraphine Viremont reached the Board, leaving both under tighter scrutiny as NPCW’s leadership struggled to contain threats already inside its walls.
Sir Alistair Hawthorne and Reggie Blackmoor continued pulling at the threads of a deeper conspiracy, eventually tracing the mysterious Envoy to former KWO President Jacques Renaud.
But before Renaud could provide answers, he suddenly died—and one chilling possibility emerged from the shadows: Moriarty may be involved.

Scene 1 – Goldie’s Office

NPCW Headquarters – Northern Belles General Manager’s Office

Goldie Locks’ office has become noticeably more lived-in over the past several months.

The walls still carry traces of her wrestling career—framed photographs, old event posters, a pair of boots mounted beneath a Northern Belles banner—but the desk now tells the story of her second life in NPCW.

Booking sheets.

Talent evaluations.

Ratings reports.

And, spread across the center of the desk tonight, several pages marked:

MYTHIC DIVISION – NORTHERN BELLES AVAILABILITY

Goldie sits behind the desk, reading through one sheet while Elias Coldmere occupies the chair opposite her. His tablet is open to the upcoming Dark Fable schedule, several matches highlighted and moved around repeatedly.

For once, there is no tension between them.

Just business.

Goldie finishes reading a page, places it down, and gives Elias a mildly amused look.

GOLDIE LOCKS: I noticed something when the Age of Ruin card came across my desk.

Elias glances up.

ELIAS COLDMERE: I suspected you might.

GOLDIE LOCKS: One Northern Belles match.

She taps the sheet.

GOLDIE LOCKS: We normally get two spots on a major Mythic supercard.

Elias leans back slightly, folding his hands.

ELIAS COLDMERE: You do. And under normal circumstances, you would have two again.

Goldie waits.

Elias exhales.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Age of Ruin is suffering from one very simple problem. Six matches.

GOLDIE LOCKS: The cap.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Exactly. Six matches, and the Mythic Division presently has considerably more than six stories demanding attention.

He turns his tablet toward her.

Several highlighted programs fill the screen.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Arthur and Robin Hood. Raigen and Taro Okami. Jack Lumber and Frankenstein’s Monster. The North Star Tag Team Championship. The Eternal Flame picture. Several other stories that are reaching points where they cannot simply be ignored for another month.

Goldie scans the page.

ELIAS COLDMERE: I even had to move the Universal Championship match away from Age of Ruin and onto Dark Fable.

Goldie raises her eyebrows.

GOLDIE LOCKS: You bumped the Universal Title from the supercard?

ELIAS COLDMERE: Reluctantly.

A faint smile crosses Goldie’s face.

GOLDIE LOCKS: All right. That makes me feel slightly less singled out.

ELIAS COLDMERE: I assure you, Goldie, you are being inconvenienced equally.

That earns a short laugh from her.

Goldie looks back down at the roster sheets.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Still, maybe this exposes something we should have been looking at anyway.

Elias nods.

ELIAS COLDMERE: I believe it does.

He reaches for another sheet.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Look at the Queen of the North Championship picture right now.

Goldie already knows where he is going.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Polly Mason is champion. Crimson Vane is circling. Moonshadow is circling. Dr. Violetta Voss wants her opportunity. Velora Synn is becoming increasingly dangerous.

He taps the page.

ELIAS COLDMERE: The strongest concentration of established singles challengers is overwhelmingly Polar.

Goldie slowly nods.

GOLDIE LOCKS: You're right.

ELIAS COLDMERE: And it isn't merely the Queen of the North Championship.

He slides another booking sheet toward her.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Valka's first Aurora Championship defense is against Ursa Titania.

Goldie studies the name.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Another Polar wrestler.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Precisely.

He pauses.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Northern Belles as a whole is strong. Your tag division is strong. The overall singles division is strong.

His finger moves toward the Mythic column.

ELIAS COLDMERE: But if we isolate the women presently associated with Camelot and Dark Fable, the upper singles tier is not developing at the same pace.

Goldie sits back, thoughtful rather than defensive.

She rolls a pen slowly between her fingers.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Lady Guinevere should be higher than she is.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Agreed.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Crimson Viper has the tools. Regina has momentum if we handle her correctly. Rosalyn can absolutely work at that level.

She pauses.

GOLDIE LOCKS: And Morgana Le Faye has too much presence to spend months floating around the middle of the card.

Elias gives a small approving nod.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Those are essentially the same names I identified.

Goldie looks toward the Aurora Championship notes.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Maybe that's part of the answer.

Elias raises an eyebrow.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Let Valka defend against Ursa. After that, maybe the Aurora Title spends some time in Camelot.

Elias considers it.

Goldie leans forward now, becoming increasingly interested in the idea.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Not because we force the title off Valka. I'm not talking about manufacturing a title change.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Naturally.

GOLDIE LOCKS: But the next wave of challengers could come from Mythic. Guinevere. Regina. Rosalyn. Morgana. Crimson Viper.

She gestures toward the Dark Fable calendar.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Give those women something meaningful to chase on that show.

Elias studies the names again.

ELIAS COLDMERE: It would also distinguish the Aurora Championship from the Queen of the North Championship.

Goldie points toward him.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Exactly.

GOLDIE LOCKS: The Queen of the North picture can keep moving wherever the strongest challengers are. But the Aurora Title can become a way to develop that next level of singles talent.

Elias gives the suggestion another moment of consideration before nodding.

ELIAS COLDMERE: I like it.

Goldie smiles.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Good. Write that down. I don't get you saying that very often.

Elias' expression remains characteristically restrained, but there is the slightest hint of amusement.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Don't become accustomed to it.

Goldie chuckles and returns to the Age of Ruin sheet.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Fine. I'll stop complaining about losing the second supercard match.

ELIAS COLDMERE: I didn't ask you to stop complaining.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Wise man.

Elias closes one file and opens the Dark Fable schedule.

ELIAS COLDMERE: However, I can offer compensation.

Goldie looks interested.

ELIAS COLDMERE: If Age of Ruin cannot provide Northern Belles with its normal second showcase, then Dark Fable can provide additional opportunities.

GOLDIE LOCKS: How additional?

ELIAS COLDMERE: A couple of main events over the coming cycle.

Goldie pauses.

That gets her attention.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Women's main events on Dark Fable.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Northern Belles main events on Dark Fable.

He lifts one finger before she can celebrate.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Provided you give me matches worthy of the position.

Goldie smiles confidently.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Main-event calibre matchups?

ELIAS COLDMERE: Precisely.

Goldie reaches for her roster folder and begins flipping through it.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Guinevere. Morgana. Regina. Rosalyn. Crimson Viper.

She looks up.

GOLDIE LOCKS: You give me the slots, Elias. I'll give you matches people will want to see.

Elias extends his hand across the desk.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Then we have an agreement.

Goldie looks at his hand for half a second.

Months ago, almost any conversation between the two of them seemed capable of becoming a battle over authority, philosophy, or control.

Tonight, neither needs to win.

Goldie takes his hand.

GOLDIE LOCKS: We have an agreement.

They shake.

Elias gathers his booking sheets while Goldie makes a fresh notation across the top of her Mythic roster page:

BUILD THE CAMELOT SINGLES DIVISION

Elias notices it as he stands.

ELIAS COLDMERE: Evolution rather than expansion.

Goldie looks up at him.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Sometimes the roster doesn't need more people.

She taps the list.

GOLDIE LOCKS: Sometimes the people you already have just need somewhere to go.

Elias considers that, then gives her a small nod.

ELIAS COLDMERE: On that, General Manager, we completely agree.

He exits.

Goldie remains at her desk, already drawing lines between names, titles, and potential matches.

The loss of one supercard spot has created something neither expected.

A reason to build an entire side of the division stronger.

Fade out.

Scene 2 – Office of the NPCW President & CEO

NPCW Headquarters – North Pole

The Office of the President is quiet despite the activity beyond its doors.

September snow moves steadily past the floor-to-ceiling windows, the North Pole skyline partially obscured beneath a pale afternoon haze. On one wall, several monitors cycle through NPCW schedules, ratings reports, talent movement, and upcoming supercard graphics.

On Kristine Kringle’s desk sits something less glamorous.

Personnel files.

One is marked:

EXECUTIVE VICE PRESIDENT – ALTON BELL

Another:

POLAR DIVISION – COMMISSIONER SEARCH

Victoria Deschamps sits across from Kristine, tablet resting on one knee. Kristine finishes signing a document, sets her pen aside, and looks toward her longtime friend.

There is a moment of silence.

Not awkward.

Just familiar.

Kristine eventually gives Victoria a measured look.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: How are you doing?

Victoria raises an eyebrow.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: That question sounds suspiciously non-business related.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: It is.

Victoria knows immediately what she means.

She sets the tablet onto the desk.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: I'm fine, Kristine.

Kristine studies her.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Actually fine?

Victoria gives her a faint smile.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Actually fine.

She pauses, choosing her words carefully.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: I'm not going to pretend what happened with Lucien was pleasant. But I'm also not going to spend the next six months staring through windows wondering what might have been.

Kristine smiles slightly.

That sounds much more like Victoria.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Relationships end. I've survived considerably worse things than a breakup.

Her expression becomes more thoughtful.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: What bothers me isn't that Lucien ended things.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: It's how he did it.

Victoria shakes her head.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Not even that.

A beat.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: It's him.

Kristine leans back.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: He's changed.

There is no bitterness in the statement.

Only observation.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Something happened when he stepped into Ardan's place. Maybe it was responsibility. Maybe it was the Circle. Maybe it was something his father left behind for him.

She looks directly at Kristine.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: But the Lucien I'm dealing with now isn't the Lucien I was with.

Kristine nods slowly.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: I've noticed it too.

Victoria folds her arms.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: He was always complicated. He could be guarded. Sometimes infuriatingly so.

A faint smile.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: But there was warmth underneath it.

The smile disappears.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Now everything feels calculated.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Even Alton?

Victoria thinks about that.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Especially Alton.

Kristine reaches for the Executive Vice President file.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Speaking of our new Executive Vice President...

She opens it.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: He's been remarkably quiet.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Almost reclusive.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: I expected him to come through that door with twelve recommendations and six complaints within forty-eight hours.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Instead, he practically moved into his office.

Kristine nods.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Contracts. Vendor agreements. Talent agreements. Partnership documents. Old KWO paperwork. Corporate correspondence.

She flips through several internal activity reports.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: He's requested access to almost everything.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: I've spoken with Legal. Finance too. Nothing inappropriate so far.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: And no issues raised?

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: None.

Kristine gives a small, puzzled frown.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: That's almost more concerning.

Victoria laughs.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Alton Bell doing his job quietly?

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Precisely.

They share a brief smile.

Then Victoria becomes serious again.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Maybe he's simply taking the position seriously.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: I hope so.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Executive Vice President is very different from running a division. If he's smart, he'll learn where all the wires run before he starts pulling any of them.

Kristine closes the file.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Then we'll let him work.

A beat.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: But we'll pay attention.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Always.

Kristine slides the second folder into the center of the desk.

POLAR DIVISION – COMMISSIONER SEARCH

Victoria exhales.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Now there's the difficult one.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Elias can't keep doing both jobs indefinitely.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Nor should he.

Kristine opens the folder.

Several candidate profiles are already arranged inside.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: I'm beginning to wonder whether the right person is even inside NPCW.

Victoria nods.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: I've been thinking the same thing.

She looks at the files.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: If nobody internally jumps out, we may have to go outside.

Kristine hesitates.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: My father and Aurelius apparently have someone in mind.

Victoria looks up immediately.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Apparently?

KRISTINE KRINGLE: That's exactly the word.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: They won't tell you who?

Kristine gives her a dry stare.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: My father said, “You'll know when the time is right.”

Victoria grimaces.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: I hate when people say things like that.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: So do I.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Aurelius?

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Smiled.

Victoria sighs.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Of course he did.

Kristine pulls out the first internal profile.

Buddy the Elf

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Buddy.

Victoria considers it.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: People like him.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Talent trusts him.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: He knows the company.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: And nobody would ever question whether he cares about the North Pole.

Victoria nods.

Then pauses.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: But Commissioner?

Kristine slowly shakes her head.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: That's where I get stuck.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: So do I. He's excellent when the job is about people and culture. I'm less convinced when the job requires telling two angry wrestlers that neither of them is getting what they want.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Buddy wants everyone happy.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Commissioners occasionally have to make everyone unhappy.

Kristine moves the file aside.

Tilda Thimblewhistle

Victoria smiles immediately.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Tilda could certainly tell people no.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Tilda could tell a charging rhinoceros no and make it apologize.

They both laugh.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Organizationally, she's exceptional.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Knows policy better than most of Legal.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Trustworthy. Disciplined. Impossible to intimidate.

Kristine taps the file.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: But she doesn't have enough wrestling experience.

Victoria nods.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: That's my concern. Running an office is one thing. Understanding when a locker room is about to boil over is another.

Tilda's file joins Buddy's.

Hammer Washington

Kristine doesn't dismiss this one as quickly.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Hammer.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Credibility immediately.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Wrestlers respect him.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: He's already proven he can lead.

Victoria pauses.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: But Iron Ring needs him.

Kristine nods.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Exactly.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Pulling Hammer out now creates another vacancy to solve.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: And the Academy finally has stability.

She sets Hammer aside reluctantly.

Vera Steele

Victoria picks up the next file herself.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Vera Steele.

Kristine considers her.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Interesting.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Former wrestler. Strong personality. Respected. Understands television.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: And she certainly wouldn't be intimidated by anyone in the Polar locker room.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: No.

A pause.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: But she's become very good at what she does on Northern Belles.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: We'd be creating one problem to solve another.

Victoria nods.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Plus I'm not sure Vera wants administration.

The file moves aside.

Dave Kent

Kristine reads the next name.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Dave Kent.

Victoria's reaction is immediate.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: The locker room would behave.

Kristine laughs.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: That's certainly one advantage.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: He's experienced. He knows the business. Nobody questions his toughness.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: And he doesn't play favorites.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: I'm not sure he plays anything.

Kristine smiles.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Dave sees wrestling in very stark terms. Earn it or don't. Perform or don't.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Which can be useful.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Until the Commissioner has to consider television, marketing, long-term stories, talent development and twenty other things that aren't decided by who can win a fight.

Kristine nods.

Another file moves aside.

Only one remains.

Kristine looks at the name.

Then at Victoria.

Victoria already knows.

Grinch Heyman

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: No.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: We haven't discussed him yet.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: We just did.

Kristine laughs.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Hear me out.

Victoria reluctantly gestures for her to continue.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: He understands wrestling.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Unfortunately.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: He understands talent.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: When he's not manipulating it.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: He understands television.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Extremely well.

Kristine raises an eyebrow.

Victoria begrudgingly continues.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: He understands personalities. He understands how to build attractions. He's persuasive. Creative. Politically skilled.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: So there are positives.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Kristine, the man treats conflict like a renewable energy source.

Kristine laughs again.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Half the roster would wonder whether every Commissioner's decision was secretly part of some Grinch Heyman master plan.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: And the other half?

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Would probably be correct.

Kristine closes the file.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: So that's a no?

Victoria stares at her.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: That's a very entertaining no.

The files now sit scattered across the desk.

Several credible people.

Several intriguing people.

Nobody who feels right.

Kristine looks down at the list.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: That's the problem.

Victoria nods.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Every name works on paper.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: And none of them feels like the Commissioner of the Polar Division.

Victoria leans back.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Then we don't force it.

Kristine looks at her.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Elias can keep the chair warm a little longer. We look externally. We keep watching internally.

She glances toward the candidate folder.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: And eventually your father and Aurelius can stop being mysterious and tell us who they've found.

Kristine gives a knowing sigh.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: I'm beginning to suspect that's exactly what they're waiting for.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: What?

KRISTINE KRINGLE: For us to reach the conclusion that none of these people are right.

Victoria considers that.

Then smiles.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Which means they've probably already reached it.

Kristine closes the Commissioner folder.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Wonderful.

She places it beside Alton Bell's file.

Two positions.

Two uncertainties.

And somewhere beyond the office, two men apparently holding an answer they are not yet willing to share.

Victoria picks up her tablet.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Anything else?

Kristine glances toward the Lucien file buried beneath the others.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Plenty.

Victoria stands.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: Good.

She gives Kristine a confident smile.

VICTORIA DESCHAMPS: I'd hate for things to become boring.

Kristine smiles back.

KRISTINE KRINGLE: Somehow, I don't think that's a risk.

Victoria exits.

Kristine remains behind her desk, looking once more at the list of Polar Commissioner candidates.

Then at the empty space beneath it.

UNKNOWN CANDIDATE

Her father and Aurelius know the name.

She doesn't.

Yet.

Fade out.

Scene 3 – Alton Bell’s Office

NPCW Headquarters – Executive Wing

The office of the Executive Vice President is darker than most of the executive suites.

Not gloomy.

Focused.

The blinds are partially drawn against the afternoon glare, leaving narrow bands of pale North Pole sunlight across a desk that has almost disappeared beneath paperwork. Contract binders sit stacked beside old KWO records, sponsorship agreements, vendor files, corporate registrations, and several folders carrying handwritten tabs.

Alton Bell has clearly been doing exactly what everyone suspects.

Reading everything.

On one computer monitor, however, the paperwork has temporarily given way to something else.

A confidential file fills the screen.

PROJECT BELLES 2.0

Alton sits back in his chair with his phone against one ear.

The conversation is already well underway.

ALTON BELL: No, I've gone through the entire proposal.

He scrolls through another page.

Whatever he is reading clearly pleases him.

ALTON BELL: It looks great, Lucien. Genuinely. It's an excellent idea.

He pauses, listening.

ALTON BELL: I don't see any reason why the others should object. There'll be questions, obviously, but nothing in here strikes me as unreasonable.

Another pause.

Alton smiles faintly.

ALTON BELL: Exactly.

He clicks to the final page of the document.

ALTON BELL: Great. When you're in town next, we can make the proposal together.

He listens again.

ALTON BELL: Thank you. Talk later.

Alton ends the call.

For a moment, he remains looking at the words on the screen.

PROJECT BELLES 2.0

He gives a small approving nod before minimizing the file.

The desktop beneath it reveals an intimidating collection of folders.

TALENT CONTRACTS

VENUE AGREEMENTS

LEGACY SPONSORSHIPS

KWO TRANSITION FILES

THIRD-PARTY CORPORATE AGREEMENTS

One folder has been flagged in red.

CFO REVIEW – R. CRATCHIT

Alton clicks it open.

A short memorandum from CFO Robert Cratchit appears first.

Alton reads.

His expression changes.

Not alarm.

Interest.

He opens the attached contract.

Scrolls.

Stops.

Scrolls back.

Then opens another window.

An old corporate registry.

Another.

A payment ledger.

Then an archived sponsorship agreement predating the current ownership structure.

Alton begins cross-referencing dates.

Signatures.

Account numbers.

Entity registrations.

His eyes narrow.

He opens another file.

Then another.

The pattern begins to emerge.

Alton leans back.

A slow smile appears.

ALTON BELL: Seraphine, you sneaky devil...

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Alton glances toward the door.

ALTON BELL: Come in.

The door opens.

Sir Alistair Hawthorne enters first, distinguished as ever, his coat immaculate and his posture carrying the quiet assurance of someone accustomed to rooms of influence.

Behind him comes Reggie Blackmoor.

Where Hawthorne looks every inch the aristocratic statesman, Reggie looks deliberately forgettable.

Dark coat.

Plain shirt.

No unnecessary accessories.

The kind of man one might pass three times in a corridor and struggle to describe afterward.

Alton rises.

ALTON BELL: Sir Alistair.

He extends a hand.

ALTON BELL: It's been a while.

Hawthorne accepts it warmly.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Far too long.

Alton turns toward Reggie.

ALTON BELL: And Mr. Blackmoor.

Reggie shakes his hand.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Executive Vice President Bell.

Alton gestures toward the chairs.

ALTON BELL: Alton will do. Please.

They sit.

Alton returns behind his desk.

ALTON BELL: What brings the two of you to my little mountain of bureaucracy?

Hawthorne looks around at the stacks of documents.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: From what I hear, you've been making yourself rather scarce since receiving the promotion.

Alton glances around his office.

ALTON BELL: There was a lot to learn.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: You've requested access to nearly every major corporate file NPCW possesses.

ALTON BELL: And several minor ones.

He gestures toward the paperwork.

ALTON BELL: You'd be amazed what people bury in the minor ones.

Reggie gives the faintest smile.

Hawthorne studies Alton for a moment.

The pleasantries begin to fade.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Alton, we've known one another for a very long time.

Alton nods.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: I remember you working the British independent scene when half these people wouldn't have known a wristlock from a wristwatch.

Alton chuckles.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Then IWF.

A beat.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: GCW.

He settles back.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: We've crossed paths professionally, socially, and occasionally under circumstances neither of us should probably put into writing.

ALTON BELL: Particularly not with Cratchit auditing everything.

Hawthorne smiles.

Then his expression becomes serious again.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Which is precisely why I was surprised to discover your relationship with the Circle of the False Light.

Silence.

Reggie watches Alton carefully.

Alton does not become defensive.

Nor does he deny it.

He folds his hands across the desk.

ALTON BELL: I've had dealings with the Circle.

Hawthorne's eyebrow rises slightly.

ALTON BELL: I'm not going to insult either of you by pretending otherwise.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Dealings.

ALTON BELL: That's the word I chose.

Reggie leans forward slightly.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: And how far do those dealings go?

Alton considers him.

ALTON BELL: Far enough that Lucien trusts me.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Enough to appoint you Executive Vice President.

ALTON BELL: Apparently.

Hawthorne's gaze remains steady.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: And where does that leave your loyalty?

Alton answers immediately.

ALTON BELL: With NPCW.

Hawthorne watches him.

ALTON BELL: I'm not naive, Alistair. I know what people think when they hear the word Circle.

He briefly glances toward the minimized PROJECT BELLES 2.0 file.

Then back to Hawthorne.

ALTON BELL: But knowing the Circle doesn't mean surrendering your judgment to it.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: And Lucien?

Alton's answer is equally firm.

ALTON BELL: Lucien wants NPCW to succeed.

Reggie doesn't react.

Hawthorne does.

Only slightly.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: His father wanted NPCW to succeed as well.

ALTON BELL: His father wanted NPCW to succeed on his terms.

A beat.

ALTON BELL: Lucien is different.

Hawthorne gives him a pointed look.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Several people have been saying that lately.

Alton understands the implication.

ALTON BELL: I didn't say better. I said different.

That earns a small nod from Hawthorne.

ALTON BELL: But when it comes to this company, I believe he has its best interests in mind.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Even above the Circle's?

Alton pauses.

ALTON BELL: Ask me that again when the two interests actually conflict.

Reggie sits back.

Fair answer.

Hawthorne rests one hand on the head of his cane.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: NPCW has attracted some extraordinarily nefarious forces over the last several years.

ALTON BELL: I've noticed.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Forces that aren't interested merely in ratings or championships.

Alton nods.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: And right now, trust is becoming an increasingly expensive commodity.

ALTON BELL: Then consider this my first installment.

He turns his monitor toward them.

ALTON BELL: I was looking at something when you arrived.

Reggie immediately leans closer.

Hawthorne adjusts his glasses.

Alton opens the file that Robert Cratchit flagged.

ALTON BELL: Bob Cratchit brought this contract to my attention.

A scanned agreement appears on the screen.

ALTON BELL: Since becoming CFO, he's been going through the old books and closing down dozens of these little side arrangements.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Sponsorships?

ALTON BELL: Sponsorships. Vendor agreements. Consulting arrangements. Licensing deals. Things that accumulated over years because somebody signed them and nobody ever bothered looking at them again.

He scrolls.

ALTON BELL: Most are harmless.

Another page.

ALTON BELL: Some are stupid.

Another.

ALTON BELL: This one is neither.

Reggie studies the screen.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Who signed it?

Alton enlarges the signature.

ALTON BELL: Ebenezer Scrooge.

Hawthorne sighs.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Of course he did.

ALTON BELL: Before the current Board existed.

Alton brings up another document.

A corporate registration.

ALTON BELL: The company itself is a shell.

Reggie moves closer.

ALTON BELL: Almost no operational history. Minimal public footprint. Directors who lead to nominees who lead to other nominees.

He clicks again.

ALTON BELL: But the initial capitalization was interesting.

A financial record appears.

ALTON BELL: The money came through a trust.

Hawthorne's attention sharpens.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Whose trust?

Alton clicks one final document.

ALTON BELL: That's where things become considerably more interesting.

He points toward the screen.

ALTON BELL: It's connected to an old estate trust.

Reggie reads the line.

His expression changes.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Dracula.

Alton nods.

ALTON BELL: The old Dracula estate.

The room becomes very quiet.

Hawthorne looks from the screen to Alton.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: And Seraphine?

Alton smiles.

ALTON BELL: Buried under enough paperwork that I suspect nobody was ever supposed to ask.

He opens a sequence of linked records.

ALTON BELL: Trustee authorization here.

Click.

ALTON BELL: Transfer authority here.

Click.

ALTON BELL: Beneficial access hidden behind this entity.

Another click.

A name appears.

SERAPHINE VIREMONT

Hawthorne sits forward.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: You're certain?

ALTON BELL: Certain enough to say she had access to the funds.

He taps another record.

ALTON BELL: And certain enough to say those funds were used to establish the company that subsequently entered into business with NPCW.

Reggie studies the documentation intensely.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: What business?

Alton shakes his head.

ALTON BELL: That's the problem.

He returns to the original agreement.

ALTON BELL: The contract is vague. Deliberately so, I suspect. Services, consulting, logistics, discretionary procurement.

Hawthorne frowns.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: That's alarmingly broad.

ALTON BELL: Which is probably why Scrooge signed it.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Because he was compromised?

Alton shakes his head.

ALTON BELL: Because somebody probably told him there was money in it.

That answer is so plausible neither Hawthorne nor Reggie argues.

Reggie remains fixed on the screen.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Has Cratchit terminated it?

ALTON BELL: Not yet.

Reggie turns quickly.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Good.

Alton looks at him.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Leave it alone.

Hawthorne nods almost immediately.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: I agree.

Alton leans back.

ALTON BELL: Interesting reaction from two men who've just been shown a questionable contract involving Dracula's money.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: If you shut it down, whoever is using it knows we've found it.

He points toward the transaction records.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Right now this is a trail.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: And trails are considerably more useful when the person laying them believes no one is following.

Alton considers that.

Then slowly smiles.

ALTON BELL: You want to see where the money goes next.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Who invoices it.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Who authorizes it.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Who benefits from it.

Hawthorne's gaze settles on Seraphine's name.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: And ultimately, who is standing behind her.

Alton looks back toward the monitor.

The amusement disappears from his face.

ALTON BELL: You think Seraphine may not be the end of the chain.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: I rarely assume the first name I find is the last.

A long silence.

Alton reaches for his phone.

Then stops.

Instead, he opens the CFO file and changes the status on the agreement.

From:

REVIEW FOR TERMINATION

To:

HOLD – CONTINUED AUDIT

He saves it.

ALTON BELL: Done.

Hawthorne nods.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: And Cratchit?

ALTON BELL: I'll tell him Legal needs more time before cancellation.

Reggie gives a faint approving smile.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Technically true.

Alton looks at him.

ALTON BELL: I can see why Alistair keeps you around.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: I occasionally wonder myself.

Reggie ignores the remark.

Alton turns the monitor back toward himself.

For a brief moment, the screen shows the tangled structure:

DRACULA ESTATE TRUST

to a series of holding entities.

To the shell company.

To NPCW.

And somewhere among the documents—

SERAPHINE VIREMONT

Alton closes the window.

ALTON BELL: You came here wondering whether you could trust me.

Hawthorne rises.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: I came here wondering which Alton Bell had taken this office.

Alton stands as well.

ALTON BELL: And?

Hawthorne gives him a restrained smile.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: I'm still gathering evidence.

Alton laughs.

ALTON BELL: Fair enough.

Reggie stands.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Don't discuss this with Seraphine.

ALTON BELL: Obviously.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: Or Scrooge.

ALTON BELL: Even more obviously.

Hawthorne extends his hand.

Alton takes it.

SIR ALISTAIR HAWTHORNE: Good seeing you again, old friend.

ALTON BELL: Likewise.

Hawthorne and Reggie head for the door.

Before Reggie leaves, he looks back toward Alton.

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: One more thing.

ALTON BELL: Yes?

REGGIE BLACKMOOR: If that company moves money again—

Alton understands before he finishes.

ALTON BELL: You'll know.

Reggie nods.

The door closes behind them.

Alton remains standing for several seconds.

Then he returns to his desk.

He looks at the Seraphine file.

Then at the minimized window beside it.

PROJECT BELLES 2.0

Two mysteries.

Two very different conversations.

And suddenly, the quiet work of NPCW's new Executive Vice President has become considerably more interesting.

Alton settles back into his chair.

Clicks open the financial trail again.

And smiles.

ALTON BELL: All right, Seraphine.

He begins scrolling.

ALTON BELL: Let's see where you lead.

Fade out.

Scene 4 – The North Pole

Santa Claus’ Home – Kitchen

The camera fades in on something increasingly rare in NPCW.

Peace.

Snow falls gently beyond the windows of Santa Claus’ home, thick white flakes drifting through the amber glow cast from the kitchen. The room is warm and unmistakably lived in—copper pans hanging above a broad wooden island, carved cupboards painted with tiny winter scenes, and an old iron stove giving off enough heat to fog the corners of the windows.

A fresh tray of cookies rests between Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus.

Two oversized mugs of hot chocolate sit nearby, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon.

Santa has already helped himself to more cookies than the remaining arrangement suggests he was supposed to.

Mrs. Claus notices.

She says nothing.

For now.

The cameras arrive in the middle of a far more serious conversation.

Santa is leaning against the kitchen island, his expression unusually thoughtful.

SANTA CLAUS: Merinda... I will support your decision no matter what. I know this isn't something you take lightly.

Mrs. Claus wraps both hands around her mug.

There is no uncertainty in her expression.

But there is weight.

MRS. CLAUS: I know you will, Augustus. You always have.

She looks down into the hot chocolate for a moment.

MRS. CLAUS: Tomorrow night, I need to start repairing the relationship with Dorothy.

Santa slowly nods.

SANTA CLAUS: It's been too long.

Mrs. Claus looks toward him.

There is regret there, but not self-pity.

MRS. CLAUS: Far too long.

Santa reaches for another cookie.

Mrs. Claus gives him a look.

He withdraws his hand.

Mostly.

SANTA CLAUS: You gave her space, Merinda.

Mrs. Claus says nothing.

SANTA CLAUS: Maybe more than either of you wanted. But she needed the opportunity to grow without you standing beside her every step of the way.

He smiles proudly.

SANTA CLAUS: Look at her now. Dorothy isn't somebody waiting to become a leader anymore.

A pause.

SANTA CLAUS: She is one of the leaders of the Belles Division.

Mrs. Claus' expression softens.

A warm, unmistakably maternal smile appears.

MRS. CLAUS: I know.

She takes a sip.

MRS. CLAUS: Sometimes I wonder whether she knows how proud I am of her.

SANTA CLAUS: Tomorrow would be a good time to remind her.

Mrs. Claus nods.

MRS. CLAUS: It would.

The warmth remains for another moment.

Then her expression changes.

MRS. CLAUS: But she isn't the only one I'm worried about.

Santa's smile fades.

He knows immediately.

SANTA CLAUS: Holly.

Mrs. Claus nods.

MRS. CLAUS: Holly.

She sets her mug down.

MRS. CLAUS: I've watched her these last few weeks, Augustus.

Her eyes drift toward the falling snow outside.

MRS. CLAUS: Every disappointment seems to stay with her a little longer. Every frustration becomes something sharper.

She looks back toward Santa.

MRS. CLAUS: She's slowly becoming darker.

A beat.

MRS. CLAUS: The holiday light is leaving her eyes with each passing week.

Santa is quiet.

This time, there is no joke.

SANTA CLAUS: Yes, my dear.

He folds his arms.

SANTA CLAUS: I'm afraid that's true.

Mrs. Claus' concern deepens.

MRS. CLAUS: And Bella Aurelia being around her doesn't help.

Santa nods knowingly.

SANTA CLAUS: No. Probably not.

He thinks for several seconds.

SANTA CLAUS: Perhaps Holly needs someone to remind her where she came from.

Mrs. Claus watches him.

SANTA CLAUS: Not lecture her. Not tell her what she should be.

He gently taps the kitchen counter.

SANTA CLAUS: Remind her.

SANTA CLAUS: Remind her what the holidays meant to her before anger started meaning more.

Mrs. Claus considers that.

SANTA CLAUS: Maybe if she remembers her roots, she can find her way back onto the right path herself.

Mrs. Claus smiles faintly.

MRS. CLAUS: I was thinking—

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Both turn toward the back door.

Santa frowns.

The back door is not where casual visitors arrive.

Mrs. Claus notices the same thing.

MRS. CLAUS: Were you expecting anyone?

SANTA CLAUS: No.

Mrs. Claus rises.

Santa does as well.

There is nothing immediately threatening in his posture, but the relaxed husband enjoying cookies disappears quickly.

The veteran returns.

Mrs. Claus crosses the kitchen and opens the back door.

Cold air rushes inside.

Three figures stand beneath the porch light.

Bernard.

Kris Kringle.

And Aurelius Valor.

For a moment, Mrs. Claus simply looks at them.

That combination alone tells her this is not a social call.

MRS. CLAUS: Bernard. Kris. Aurelius.

She steps aside.

MRS. CLAUS: Come inside before you freeze.

Bernard enters first, brushing snow from his shoulders.

BERNARD: Thank you, Merinda.

Kris follows, offering her a familiar smile.

KRIS KRINGLE: Good evening.

Aurelius enters last, immaculate despite the weather, the faint calm surrounding him somehow untouched by the storm outside.

AURELIUS VALOR: Mrs. Claus.

She closes the door behind them.

Santa has moved away from the counter.

He studies all three men.

His expression becomes increasingly concerned.

SANTA CLAUS: Is everything okay?

The three exchange a glance.

Bernard answers first.

BERNARD: In the immediate sense?

He gives a reassuring nod.

BERNARD: Yes.

Santa's eyes narrow.

BERNARD: But we need to speak with you.

Santa looks from Bernard to Kris.

Then to Aurelius.

The concern on his face deepens.

SANTA CLAUS: Well...

He gestures between them.

SANTA CLAUS: It must be something serious when the direct descendant of the First High Elf...

Bernard gives him a small look.

Santa points toward Kris.

SANTA CLAUS: ...the Keeper of Hope...

Then Aurelius.

SANTA CLAUS: ...and Nicholas' descendant all appear at my back door together.

Aurelius' expression carries the faintest trace of amusement.

AURELIUS VALOR: We were hoping our arrival would be somewhat less dramatic.

Santa looks at the three of them again.

SANTA CLAUS: You chose the wrong group.

Kris chuckles softly.

Mrs. Claus, however, does not.

She watches Bernard closely.

MRS. CLAUS: What's happened?

Bernard's expression becomes serious.

Very serious.

BERNARD: Nothing new tonight.

That does little to reassure anyone.

BERNARD: But perhaps that's the problem.

Santa folds his arms.

Bernard steps closer to the table.

BERNARD: Grondar the Revenant holds power here now.

Santa's expression hardens.

BERNARD: Infernus Rex has established himself at the North Pole.

Kris' face loses any remaining warmth.

BERNARD: And the Master of the Night continues expanding his influence.

Silence settles across the kitchen.

Outside, the wind begins to strengthen.

Bernard looks directly at Santa.

BERNARD: Augustus, we don't believe the North Pole has faced this concentration of darkness in a very long time.

Santa glances toward Kris.

Kris gives a solemn nod.

Then toward Aurelius.

The same.

KRIS KRINGLE: Individually, they are dangerous.

AURELIUS VALOR: Together—even without formally standing together—they change the balance.

Santa's expression becomes grave.

SANTA CLAUS: And you three have come here because you think that balance needs correcting.

Bernard nods.

BERNARD: We've come because we believe something must be done before correcting it becomes impossible.

Mrs. Claus quietly returns to Santa's side.

Bernard takes a breath.

BERNARD: We have a plan.

Santa raises an eyebrow.

BERNARD: A plan we believe could help protect the North Pole from the darkness gathering around it.

Santa studies the three visitors for several seconds.

Whatever humor remained in the room is gone.

Finally, he gestures toward the large kitchen table.

SANTA CLAUS: Then you'd better sit down.

Kris pulls out a chair.

Bernard takes another.

Aurelius moves toward the table.

Mrs. Claus begins setting out additional mugs without needing to be asked.

Santa remains standing for a moment.

Looking at them.

Three men tied to three very different parts of the North Pole's history.

All arriving together.

All asking for the same conversation.

Santa finally takes his seat.

Bernard places both hands on the table.

He looks at Santa.

The camera begins to pull away.

BERNARD: This is what we're proposing...

The sound fades before the next words can be heard.

The camera retreats through the kitchen.

Past the untouched cookies.

Past the steaming mugs.

Past the frost-covered window.

Five figures remain gathered around the table as snow continues to fall outside.

Whatever offer has brought Bernard, Kris Kringle and Aurelius Valor to Santa's home—

the audience will not hear it tonight.

Fade to black.

Epilogue – The Laboratory

Sherlock Holmes Detective Consulting Agency – Basement Laboratory

Beneath the main offices of the Sherlock Holmes Detective Consulting Agency lies a room caught between two centuries.

One side could have belonged to Victorian London.

Dark oak cabinets filled with carefully labelled bottles. Brass microscopes. Glass pipettes. Mortars and pestles. Handwritten medical journals stacked beside leather-bound reference books whose pages have yellowed with age.

The other side is unmistakably modern.

Digital microscopes.

High-resolution chemical scanners.

Mass spectrometry equipment.

Three computer monitors displaying toxicology data while a refrigerated evidence cabinet hums quietly against the far wall.

Old methodology beside modern precision.

Exactly how Dr. John Watson prefers it.

Watson sits at the main laboratory bench with his sleeves rolled up and protective glasses resting low on his nose.

Around him are reports, photographs, chemical readouts and several sealed evidence vials.

At the center of everything is a thick folder.

RENAUD, J.

Across the room, Sherlock Holmes is pacing.

He checks his pocket watch.

Again.

Watson ignores him.

Holmes lasts another twelve seconds.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Well?

Watson continues entering figures into the computer.

DR. WATSON: Still testing.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: You said that before.

DR. WATSON: Because I was still testing before.

Holmes walks closer.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: You've been examining the same samples for nearly two hours.

DR. WATSON: And you've spent nearly two hours telling me that.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: I find repetition encourages productivity.

Watson finally looks at him.

DR. WATSON: In other people, perhaps.

Holmes gives him an impatient look.

Watson turns back to the screen.

Another test completes.

A line of data appears.

Watson studies it.

His expression immediately changes.

Holmes notices.

Of course he notices.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: There.

Watson remains silent.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: You've found something.

DR. WATSON: Holmes—

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Your entire posture changed.

DR. WATSON: Would you please allow me to confirm it before announcing my body language as forensic evidence?

Watson takes another report from the printer.

He compares the results.

Once.

Twice.

Then slowly removes his glasses.

Holmes stops pacing.

Watson turns toward him.

DR. WATSON: Jacques Renaud was murdered.

The impatience vanishes from Holmes' face.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Certain?

DR. WATSON: Absolutely.

Watson gestures toward the original autopsy report.

DR. WATSON: The official finding of sudden cardiac failure wasn't unreasonable.

Holmes raises an eyebrow.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: An undetected poison.

DR. WATSON: A very particular one.

Watson lifts one tiny evidence vial.

DR. WATSON: Whoever administered it knew exactly what a conventional toxicology screen would find.

He turns one of the monitors toward Holmes.

DR. WATSON: Almost nothing.

Holmes studies the results.

DR. WATSON: The toxin breaks down extremely quickly. By the time an ordinary postmortem examination is performed, the active compound has almost completely disappeared.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Almost.

Watson nods.

DR. WATSON: There's a trace metabolite left behind.

He highlights a tiny reading.

DR. WATSON: But unless you specifically know what you're looking for, you'd never test for it.

Holmes' eyes remain fixed on the chemical structure.

Recognition slowly appears.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: I've seen this compound before.

Watson looks at him.

DR. WATSON: I thought you might have.

Holmes reaches for the report.

Reads it again.

His expression hardens.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Moreau.

DR. WATSON: Yes.

Watson folds his arms.

DR. WATSON: Very rare. Extremely difficult to manufacture. And everything about it matches formulations associated with Doctor Moreau.

Holmes sets the report down.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: So Moreau supplied the poison.

DR. WATSON: Most likely.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: And Renaud dies immediately after becoming a potential liability.

Watson nods.

DR. WATSON: Which would seem to confirm what we were already beginning to suspect.

Holmes turns toward him.

DR. WATSON: Moreau and Moriarty are working together.

Silence.

The machinery continues humming around them.

Holmes walks slowly toward the evidence board covering the far wall.

The investigation has grown considerably.

Photographs.

Financial records.

Maps of Transylvania.

Notes from the Vale of Shadows.

Names connected by handwritten lines.

JACQUES RENAUD

DR. MOREAU

PROFESSOR MORIARTY

And prominently among them—

COUNT VLADISLAV DRAGOMIR

Holmes studies the board.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Working together, yes.

He takes a pencil.

Draws a firm line from MOREAU to RENAUD.

Then another from MORIARTY to MOREAU.

But he does not stop there.

His eyes settle on Vlad Dragomir.

Watson notices.

DR. WATSON: You're still convinced Dragomir is involved.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: More convinced than ever.

Watson approaches.

DR. WATSON: Based on what?

Holmes gestures toward the entire board.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Renaud was compromised by Vlad long before we began pulling at this thread.

He taps the financial records.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: The money.

Another document.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: The influence inside wrestling.

Then Renaud's photograph.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: The Envoy.

Holmes turns back toward Watson.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Vlad Dragomir has fingerprints across this investigation whether he personally touched Renaud or not.

Watson considers that.

DR. WATSON: Then perhaps Moreau and Moriarty are working for him.

Holmes immediately shakes his head.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Too simple.

DR. WATSON: You always say that when the simple answer isn't interesting enough for you.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: And I'm very often correct.

Watson gives him a look.

Holmes turns back toward Moriarty's photograph.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Moriarty does not become another man's servant.

A beat.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Neither does Vlad Dragomir.

That thought hangs between them.

Two master manipulators.

Neither naturally subordinate to the other.

DR. WATSON: Then they're partners.

Holmes tilts his head.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Perhaps.

He studies the board.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Or adversaries temporarily walking in the same direction.

Watson glances toward Moreau.

DR. WATSON: And Moreau?

SHERLOCK HOLMES: A useful instrument.

Watson grimaces.

DR. WATSON: That's a rather disturbing way to describe him.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Moriarty collects useful instruments.

Holmes begins pacing again, but now there is purpose behind every step.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Renaud was important enough to eliminate.

DR. WATSON: Because he could expose Vlad?

Holmes stops.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Perhaps.

He looks toward Moriarty.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Or because he could expose Moriarty.

Another pause.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Or because Moriarty wanted us to discover his death wasn't natural.

Watson turns sharply.

DR. WATSON: Why would he possibly want that?

Holmes smiles faintly.

Not because he knows.

Because he finally has the question he wants.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Precisely.

Watson sighs.

DR. WATSON: I recognize that expression.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: What expression?

DR. WATSON: The one where not knowing something makes you unbearably happy.

Holmes barely hears him.

He moves closer to the board.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Moriarty knew Renaud was vulnerable.

He points toward Moreau.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: He has access to Moreau.

Then Vlad.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: And somewhere in this, Vlad Dragomir continues operating his own game.

Holmes folds his arms.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: The question isn't simply who murdered Jacques Renaud anymore.

His eyes settle on Moriarty.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: The question is what Moriarty is trying to accomplish.

Watson looks over the web of connections.

DR. WATSON: And you intend to find out.

Holmes gives him an almost offended glance.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Naturally.

DR. WATSON: How?

Holmes turns toward the Transylvanian material.

Among the files is imagery and documentation concerning Castle Dracula and the ancient legacy surrounding it.

Holmes studies it.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: There are still parts of Dracula's history we haven't been able to examine directly.

Watson immediately understands where this is going.

And dislikes it.

DR. WATSON: Holmes...

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Castle Dracula contains answers.

DR. WATSON: Castle Dracula contains considerably more than answers.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Most worthwhile places do.

Watson folds his arms.

DR. WATSON: And before you say it—Vlad Dragomir does not reside there.

Holmes looks mildly insulted.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: I'm perfectly aware of that.

DR. WATSON: Good. I wanted that firmly established before you devised some scheme involving knocking on the castle door and demanding an interview.

Holmes considers it.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: I hadn't considered knocking.

Watson closes his eyes.

DR. WATSON: Of course you hadn't.

Holmes picks up one of the Castle Dracula files.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: If Moriarty, Moreau and Dragomir are intersecting around Dracula's legacy, then somewhere inside that history is a reason.

He looks again toward Moriarty's photograph.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: And once we know the reason...

A small smile.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: ...we may finally understand Moriarty's game.

DING-DONG.

Both men stop.

The old brass house bell mounted near the laboratory ceiling rings once.

Then again.

DING-DONG.

Watson glances toward the clock.

DR. WATSON: Are you expecting someone?

SHERLOCK HOLMES: No.

Holmes crosses toward a modern security display mounted beside an antique speaking tube.

He taps the screen.

The front-door camera activates.

Standing outside the consulting agency is a familiar figure.

Ace MacDougal.

Holmes leans slightly toward the monitor.

Watson joins him.

DR. WATSON: Ace MacDougal?

Ace reaches for the bell again.

Holmes' expression shifts instantly from concentrated suspicion to curiosity.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: Hmmm.

Watson looks toward him.

DR. WATSON: What?

Holmes continues watching Ace through the camera.

A faint smile forms.

SHERLOCK HOLMES: I wonder what he wants.

The camera pulls back.

On Watson's desk—

RENAUD, J.

Beside it, the chemical analysis proving murder.

On the evidence board—

MOREAU.

MORIARTY.

VLADISLAV DRAGOMIR.

And beyond them, still unexplained—

CASTLE DRACULA.

The board has more answers than it did an hour ago.

And far more questions.

Fade to black.