scene 65: I'll show you bad

I'm so sorry... I forgot about the poll, lmfao. This is the first scene of act 3.

Samwich: and we are here to worship our Lord. Not for power. Not for love.

[Jessie sits in one of the back rows of pews, as a supervisor shadowing a classroom to determine if it's up to snuff might, only briefly after strangling Shiloh — though no one is any the wiser aside from her. On the bimah, Samwich leads the congregation's first service (naturally). The congregants have obviously been instructed not to bother Jessie, as they occasionally glance back instinctively, then quickly look away throughout the service.]

Samwich (continuing): but for TRUTH! [Samwich pauses, leans forward for emphasis] what we know as truth can CHANGE in one snap. Our pain! Our flaws! Our families! Our memories!! Anything!!! [Samwich leans back again] All interpretations of reality CRUMBLE by Jessie's hand. Because there is only ONE TRUE interpretation of THIS STORY. [Samwich slams the book they have open in front of them shut] AND IT IS JESSIE'S!!! AMEN!!!

[The rest of the congregation screams "AMEN" in unison. Many of them stand up while doing this. Samwich makes eye contact with Jessie, who can parse that they will be inviting her to speak. They hold out the microphone in her direction; their voice is much smaller, less authoritative, without the microphone to amplify it. The shot emphasizes their smallness in the towering space of the church, Jessie herself seeming larger and more imposing in the foreground.]

Samwich: My Lord!! Would you like to speak at this inauguration??

[Jessie cocks her head judgmentally. She imagines how she comes off if she speaks, and if she doesn't. She WOULD seem pretty cool and mysterious if she remained aloof and quiet... but allure would not command a room, much less a congregation, or a world.

She first commands the microphone to leave Samwich's hand and come to hers, similarly to how she pulled the red letter from Boglia out of Shiloh's hand. She opens her mouth to speak, but take at least a couple of beats to think of something to say. While she's thinking, she casually twirls the microphone in her hand, then tosses it aside.]

Jessie: ...I guess after this is over, I'm supposed to let you line up and ask me for wishes. Right? [walking up the aisle, scrutinizing faces in the crowd] I'm guessing I've brushed most of you off before. Wishing I'd listen. [separated by a different shot of pews] mortal lives. That's what they are. Wishing and needing and wishing and needing and. Well. [at the podium, lifts Samwich by the back of their robe, and sets them aside] dying.

[Jessie allows a beat of silence to pass. Out of a combination of fear, confusion, respect, and anticipation, the congregants do not attempt to respond to her initial question. She enjoys knowing that she can so quickly smother this loud, vibrant atmosphere into dead silence. She enjoys knowing that they are afraid of her.]

Jessie (a little less casually): but I'm more than a person who can give you what you want— I'm more than a person at all. I don't need to SOLVE your problems like a PERSON. [she raises both hands in a snapping position] I can solve them LIKE A GOD! [demonic] LET YOUR WISHES BECOME FICTION.

[Jessie snaps with both of her hands, and a litany of prayers become true; many of them are obvious, such as wishing for money, but others are more grotesque or hilarious, like wishing for an anime girlfriend with big naturals or wishing to be dead. Other wishes can include bodies radically changing, a puppy, wishing for a different congregant to disappear, and wishing for a burger. Ultimately, it should amount to chaos.

All wishes were written to Jessie under the assumption that she might read them, and could kill them painfully and immediately if she found them particularly annoying or offensive. Any depicted wishes should comply with this — some wishing big, but many wishing for small reliefs that they believed would be more likely to be granted.

The scene cuts to Jessie exiting the temple; she is one of the last to exit along with the clergy. Quincy is, notably, absent from the clergy. Samwich slows down to talk to Jessie; Jessie seems to not even notice their presence, and starts to walk away. They scramble up to her field of view to get her attention, smiling submissively and hugging the book of liturgy they'd worked so hard on.]

Samwich: thank you for coming!!! it was so so much of an honor for you to show up for the opening!! You should consider coming to other services, sometimes, maybe!

[Jessie gives the temple's exterior a once-over. Her demeanor throughout the scene has been a distracted aloofness emanating malice. She does not respond to Samwich — merely skulks away.

She remains grounded. Her walking seems aimless; her surroundings are meaningless, ultimately. She crosses a street without regard for the flow of traffic, and several cars crash behind her as they avoid colliding with her. She keeps walking, shoulder checking pedestrians who do not attempt to move out of her way. A narration box appears, but it is not in red ink; it is her handwriting, but it is the color of her speech.]

"That was a mistake."

[The words don't come from Jessie's mouth, but she hears them. Her jaw clenches slightly, pursing her lips and drawing the edge into a long frown (expression reference: Syconium, page 45, panel 4).]

"Wrong, it was wrong."

[One side of Jessie's muzzle twitches into a snarl for a brief instant. She tries to ignore this voice. She tips her chin to the sky and runs her fingers through her hair and cheek fur, as if to fix herself up and emphasize her charisma. She shakes her head a bit for flourish at the end.]

"It's wrong to choke your girlfriend."

Jessie (sinister, muttering to herself): She asked for it...

"It's something abusers do. I'm...

[new narration box] I'm an abuser?"

[Jessie bristles at the suggestion that she is abusive. Her eyebrows pinch. Wrinkles at the edges of her mouth dig into her indestructible skin. She shoves someone with a very long stack of ice cream scoops on a cone out of the way. All of the scoops fall onto them, obviously.

Although she says nothing, Jessie begins the process of rationalizing her actions — the charge has been expanded to her entire person, rather than one incident, one little minute where she closed her paws too tightly, and it is more difficult to excuse.]

"And the worst part is I don't even care. All I care about is if I'm right or wrong and if it makes me good or not. And maybe..."

[Jessie stretches her neck from side to side as if cracking it, as she typically does to relieve stress.]

"...maybe I don't even care about that, either.

[new panel] I've done so many fucked up things."

Jessie (growling, muttering louder): shut up...

"Like when I shut Mom and Dad up for saying it."

[Jessie grits her teeth harder, causing her lips to start curling. Instinctively, she knows that forcibly silencing this voice would have ramifications for her, because it is hers. She does not like having these thoughts that she can't control. Uncontrollable rage, she can tolerate — embrace, even — but uncontrollable guilt is where she draws the line.]

"Brainwashing Mom and Dad."

[Her snarl becomes more extreme; the gums in her mouth is as visible as the teeth anchored in them. She abruptly changes direction, walking away from where the narration box is in the panel.

In the next panel, however, the narration box has stayed in place — but it has been altered. Another box accompanies it.]

"Fixing Mom and Dad."

"Erasing people instead of their sins."

[The narration boxes continue to persist in sequential panels, causing the panels to become more and more cramped and close Jessie in.]

"Fixing Mom and Dad."

"Erasing EVIL and VIOLENCE."

"Torturing innocent strangers."

"Fixing Mom and Dad."

"Erasing EVIL and VIOLENCE."

"Punishing sinners."

"Beating on children."

"Murdering millions of people."

"Fixing Mom and Dad."

"Erasing EVIL and VIOLENCE."

"Punishing sinners."

"Punishing sinners."

"Punishing sinners."

"Punishing sinners."

[Jessie is at her boiling point. She doesn't attempt to twist her actions into good deeds anymore. The narration boxes continue to crowd her in. She mentally scribbles over them with red to get rid of them, ultimately filling most of the panel with red. Note that a good format for this may be several back-to-back splash pages with the progression moving page-by-page.]

"Natural disasters."

"Cancer."

"Stillbirths."

"Tragic accidents."

"Diseases, disorders."

"Changing Fate."

[The foreground and background create vague hints of shapes present in reality. Jessie shoves a person-shaped silhouette out of the way. Her response is created through black outlines shaping block letters out of the red; it should be obvious that she is still muttering to herself out loud.]

Jessie: I decide what's right and wrong. I decide who is good and bad. I decide what happens or doesn't.

[Jessie receives no response for a few beats. Her expression seems to reflect guilt more than it does relief or triumph. The background darkens like blood drying, from a vibrant red to a coppery brown to velvety black. Eventually, the voice returns.]

[on the black background] "God... is this how I excuse it all?

[on the white of Jessie's head] is this who I am?"

[The word "God" repeats in the background, as if echoing. There may be fleeting, compartmentalized instances where Jessie has said the word before, primarily focusing on her mouth saying it, all bleeding into each other with little regard for contiguous form.]

Jessie: SHUT UP!!! SHE WAS NOTHING. COMPARED TO WHAT I COULD HAVE DONE?!! KILLING HER WAS NOTHING. [growling, more threatening, less loud] IF YOU THINK THAT'S BAD, I'LL SHOW YOU HOW BAD IT CAN GET...

[The word "God" continues to repeat; it buzzes in her head like thousands of locusts. Although she is beyond pain, she claws at her scalp as if she's pained, as if she can bleed out the sound.]

Jessie: SHUT.. UP... ᔕ̵ᕼ̷ᑌ̸T̴ ̶ ᑌ̸ᑭ̵. ᔕ̴̱̪͓͗̾ᕼ̷̟̘̐ᑌ̷̩̿̇̈́͋͌̓͌͘T̶̢͍̘̥̱͙̑ ̴̞̱͚̻̣̤̐̂̓̀̏͊͌͜ᑌ̴̩̒̈́̈́̆̆́͌ᑭ̸̡̨̘̬̈́

[The swarm gently forms an "AAAA" sound behind Jessie as she begins to reintegrate with reality. She opens her eyes with the resolve of a tiger who has decided it's time to pounce. The "AAAA" behind her has congealed into obvious letters. Something external to her is to blame. Her claws shoot out of their sheathes. She whips her arm behind her with one indiscriminate slash to silence the source.]

Jessie: SHUT!!! ̷̓̅̚Ủ̴̜͙̆̕P̵͋̉̚!̸!̷̨̛̼̈͗ͅ!

[The source of the noise is a crying child, cleaved in twain with the ease of cutting soft butter. The parent accompanying the child processes what has happened before Jessie does, and screams in horror. Jessie is also horrified once she realizes what she has done.]

Jessie (sweating): t-time goes back 10 seconds.

[She snaps. The child is in one piece, still crying. Jessie's ears twist; she backs away, still sweating.]

Jessie (turning around): ......I'll.. show you bad. Starting tomorrow.

This scene, unfortunately, relied a lot on formatting within the script document. This is the best way that I can show it.