Thursday, January 10, 2013

HYPNO REVISITED #4.1: OTHERMAN & THE ORAKULOIDS #1:" THE FINAL ENIGMA" (FULL SCRIPT by SQUAMATA)



OTHERMAN & THE ORAKULOIDS #1: “THE FINAL ENIGMA”
a full script by
Jason Squamata
illustrated by
Owen Hunter

character sketches by
Squamata
























PAGE ONE (five panels):
PANEL 1:
 A long vertical panel on the left-hand side of the page.  An almost diagonal, sprawling cityscape of Paris at dusk.  The Eiffel tower in the distance.  An obvious sunset.  Somewhere amongst the gables and roofs and turrets and cupolas, the Lautreamont Asylum is visible...tiny but distinct.  (see below).
Caption:
 PARIS. 1930. BETWEEN THE WARS. 

Caption: 
THE CITY OF LIGHT WAS STILL SHELL-SHOCKED. 

Caption:
 WE LOVED AND WE HATED, WE CREATED AND DESTROYED 
WITH A DESPERATE ENERGY... 

Caption:
 HALF TO FORGET AND HALF TO REMEMBER WHAT WE'D 
LEARNED IN THE TRENCHES... 

PANEL TWO:
 Establishing shot of the Lautreamont Asylum, a massive mental institution on the Boulevard St. 
Marcel.  Use the infamous Pitie-Salpetriere as a reference, but warp it to your heart's content. 
the major change: on its uppermost floor, in the central wing, there's a huge circular window (think Ditko's sanctum sanctorum window in "Dr. Strange", or the spiderweb window in Eisner's 
"Spirit").  Its stained glass and its frame suggest a gaping, bloodshot eyeball.  What sky we 
see is still dusky. 
Caption:
 THAT THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD IS A MADHOUSE. 

Caption:
 SOME HOUSES, OF COURSE, ARE MORE MAD THAN OTHERS...
PANEL 3:
 In the main common area/rec room of the hysteria ward at the Lautreamont asylum, Dr. Andre Charcot (Andre Breton circa 1930), in a sharp suit and a period white lab coat, is leading a team of doctors and medical students amongst a throng of beautiful madwomen, some of whom are playing snakes and ladders or working on chaotic watercolors or gyrating in ecstatic convulsions or clutching at the gowns of nurses who are dispensing their medications.  This is his kingdom, and he struts around like he owns the place.  He dispenses diagnoses like manifestos and 
treats his students like apostles.  Burly orderlies flank them like secret service agents. 

Caption: 
TAKE THE LAUTREAMONT ASYLUM FOR THE CRIMINALLY INTERESTING... 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT:
...BUT, GENTLEMEN, WHO ARE WE TO JUDGE? 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT:
DESPITE OUR SCIENCE, CAN WE BE SO SURE THAT THESE SO-CALLED LUNATICS ARE NOT IN TOUCH WITH SOME STRANGE WISDOM THAT DWARFS OUR OWN? 

PANEL 4: 
Closer shot on Charcot and one of the painting hysterics, a young woman barely out of her teens. 
She'd obviously be a great beauty if her face and fingers weren't smeared with the mess of her 
compulsive art-making.  She's clutching at Charcot's lapels.  He dotes on his patients, but 
there's a distance.  He appreciates them aesthetically more than he appreciates their humanity.  The whole hospital is like his personal gallery of vibrant and lurid case histories.  He addresses his entourage as she clutches at him. 

HYSTERIC #1 (IN A LOOPY FONT): 
FISHMUCKEN MICKLEWHITE BABNABBIT HEXUM!
DR. ANDRE CHARCOT :
BEHOLD!  A KIND OF POETRY BLOOMS IN THE RUINS OF REASON! 
Caption:
 ...TAKE DOCTOR ANDRE CHARCOT... 


PANEL FIVE:
Orderlies have pounced on the hysteric.  They're wrapping her up in a straitjacket and she 
struggles, howling more desperate nonsense at Charcot, who seems suddenly bored with making the rounds.  He's checking the pocketwatch chained to his waistcoat. If there are fellow doctors 
visible, we'll see them taking notes, perhaps gazing admiringly at Charcot the great theorist 
and healer. 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT: 
BEDTIME FOR THESE WRETCHES, I THINK.  

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT:
I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH THAT TRAGIC CASE IN THE SPECIAL WARD, UPSTAIRS. 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT
TOMORROW'S LECTURE BEGINS AT NOON, GENTLEMEN. SAVOR EVERY ILLNESS BEFORE YOU ATTEMPT ITS CURE.
PAGE TWO (six panels): 
PANEL 1:
 Dr. Charcot in an ascending cage elevator. He's straightening his tie, composing himself with a 
gravitas unusual for a doctor en route to a consultation with a patient.  It's more like he's 
on his way to a conference with his boss.  The cross-hatched shadows flow over him. 

Caption:
 STAY SENSITIVE AND MUTABLE IN A MENTAL HOSPITAL AND YOU WILL COME TO KNOW THE TASTE OF EVERY KIND OF CRAZY. 

Caption:
 EVEN DR.CHARCOT HOSTS HIS OWN FREQUENCY OF LUNACY. 
Caption:
 CHARCOT.  MY DOCTOR.  MY HIGH PRIEST. 

PANEL 2:
 A large panel establishing the attic lair of Jacques Vache (a.k.a. Otherman).  The north wall 
farthest from us is taken up mostly by the circular stained glass eyeball window we saw from 
outside.  A slightly warped and bevelled Paris is visible through its fragmentation.  The exotic 
clutter of the study reflects the headspace of its occupant: rich but chaotic.  We see various pieces 
of enigmatic Orakuloid technology:  the lobster telephone (under glass, like the red phone on the 
batman tv show).  A furry tea set, wherein some strange brew is steaming end emitting little 
musical notes.  There's an antique dissecting table upon which a strange steam-powered sewing 
machine and a folded umbrella (which, if opened, would reveal a circular Buddhist diorama, a 
meditating god dreaming gods dreaming gods, etc.) are perched.  Bits of some inscrutable animal
glisten on the table itself, residue of some angelic autopsy.  We can see mannequins in various 
extravagant Erte-esque evening dresses, voodoo-dolled with sigilized daggers and nasty 
needles and monogrammed pins.  There's a modified Dzogchen Buddhist altar that might be visible. Another diorama. A mirror framed with leering demon skulls and temple guardian death-faces. Flickering candles.  Bottles of Haitian rum, votive cigars, a black velvet glove and lacy black panties on a silver platter.  Filigreed Tantric tulpa generators.  Smoking urns and incense 
dispensers.  A small brass gong engraved with the symbol of Dzogchen (upside down), a glyph that looks curiously like a distorted tribal "M" embedded in a rippling "O".  A moonstone soaking 
in a jar of bubbling milk.  Maybe a chemistry set in sanctifying proximity to the altar.  There may 
be many mirrors in this room, positioned at strange angles, seeming to give the room eerie, 
unfolding measurements. the east wall is obscured by the machineries of the cage elevator, which has risen to the top floor, bearing Dr. Charcot.  The doors have just opened.  At the center of the 
room, there's a Buddhist bathtub  full of steaming herbalized water.  It has the clawed feet of 
demons.  It seems to be made out of solid stone. Vache himself is in the bathtub.  He has his back 
to us.  His face is obscured.  Nurse Corday is administering his specially treated spongebath. 
She's wearing a gasmask.  Alongside her is a medical tray, various chemicals, unguents, and 
instruments.  The walls are papered with an art nouveau fleur di lis print, peeling at the edges, 
revealing a more Escheresque pattern underneath. 

JACQUES VACHE: 
MY HIEROPHANT. 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT 
YOU FLATTER ME, JACQUES.  I AM MERELY A SEEKER.  YOU'VE SHOWN ME THINGS I CAN'T EXPLAIN. 

PANEL 3:
 Dr. Charcot is in the background, keeping a respectful distance.  In the foreground, Vache has 
risen from the bath.  The nurse is about to swaddle him with towels. 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT 
FOR THAT I'M IN YOUR DEBT...AND AT YOUR SERVICE.
JACQUES VACHE: 
THE GUESTLIST HAS BEEN CONFIRMED, I TAKE IT? 


PANEL 4: 
Nurse Corday (still in the gasmask) is dressing Vache, whose face is still hidden from us. 
Dressing him in the tailored suit of an elegant gangster.
DR. ANDRE CHARCOT: 
THE CRIMINAL CREME DE LA CREME, IT SEEMS. 
DANGEROUS DREAMS.  SECOND THOUGHTS? 

JACQUES VACHE: 
AU CONTRAIRE. I JUST NEEDED TO BE SURE IT'S A PARTY WORTH CRASHING.
PANEL 5:
Vache is dressed in everything but his jacket.  He wears a shoulder holster and a vest with many 
pockets.  Nurse Corday is tricking him out with various accessories, holstering his gun and 
planting little hopi dream-fetishes in the pockets of his vest.  He has his arms aloft to allow her 
maximum access. 


JACQUES VACHE: 
YOU KNOW HOW I LOVE THE CRASHING. 

JACQUES VACHE: 
BUT ANYTHING WORTH KILLING IS WORTH KILLING WELL.  AND DEATH SAYS "BE PREPARED". 

JACQUES VACHE: 
...ENOUGH WITH THE CHIT-CHAT.  CREEPY BUSINESS TO ATTEND TO. LET ME OUT. 

PANEL 6:
 The front steps of the Lautreamont asylum.  Vache is walking down the steps, towards an idling 
period luxury car in the foreground.  The hat he's wearing is emblazoned with the glyph of a 
bloodshot eyeball, emanating energy. The fellow behind the wheel is dressed like a chauffeur. 
Model him on Rene Crevel, the babyfaced poet and co-star of the surrealist season of the mediums. The great Surrealist suicide driving the great Dada suicide from crime to crime.  Charcot is holding open the asylum door.  He has just escorted and unceremoniously freed his most dangerous patient. 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT 
OF COURSE.  GOOD HUNTING, OTHERMAN.  EVIL DREAMING.  
BE BACK BEFORE DAWN. 

Caption:
 GOOD ADVICE FOR ANY OLD MONSTER. 


PAGE THREE (six panels): 
PANEL 1:
 A long horizontal panel of the canary sedan in the foreground, racing towards us.  The Lautreamont Asylum for the Criminally Interesting sprawling in the background.  Maybe a sign at the gate. 

Caption:
 ESPECIALLY A DREAM DISEASE LIKE ME. 

Caption:
 TO THE ORIFLAMME HOTEL AS TWILIGHT CURDLES INTO NIGHT.
PANEL 2:
 A large panel.  The five-star private rumpus room at the Oriflamme hotel.  There are gangsters here, gathered at a big conference table.  There's Francis Picabia, a stocky, vicious criminal 
entrepeneur.  Fritz Arp, a Swiss terrorist with connections to the Dada crime family.  There's 
Jean-Pierre Belmondo, a child of the street who's grown up to be a brutal bank-robber.  Various 
lieutenants and thugs.  Wine and champagne and drugs and a bevy of elegant, expensive 
prostitutes.  A smattering of fashionable people who are taking a walk on the wild side, including 
Melinda Lee, photographer and world-famous fashion model, who dates Belmondo from time to time. 

Caption:
 THE ORIFLAMME IS HOST TO A DEN OF PARASITES. 
ALL THEY TALK ABOUT IS SEX AND DEATH. 

PICABIA: 
THE LIBERTINE IS DEAD. 

PICABIA: 
HIS DEMON DAUGHTER IS MISSING, ALLEGEDLY DISMEMBERED, 
        PRESUMED DEAD. 

PICABIA: 
THE NOWHERE MAN IS DEAD...THE TOREADOR IS DEAD...FANTOMAS IS DEAD! 

PICABIA: 
MYSTERIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES...DANGEROUS PEOPLE 
DYING IN THEIR SLEEP...IN THEIR DREAMS. 

ARP: 
IT AIN'T NATURAL, FRANCIS. 

BELMONDO: 
IT'S OTHERMAN.  THIS IS A GANG WAR. 

PANEL 3:
 Closer on Picabia and Belmondo. 

PICABIA: 
IT'S A MAD DOG ON A RAMPAGE.  SO WE HOLE UP  HERE.  ALL OF US.  
WE WHO HAVE SURVIVED. 

PICABIA: 
OUR DETECTIVE FRIENDS ARE CLOSE TO KNOWING WHO HE REALLY IS.  THEY WANT HIM WORSE THAN WE DO. 

BELMONDO: 
I GET IT.  WE LAY LOW IN LUXURY UNTIL THE COPPERS KILL HIM.  HER.  IT. 

PANEL 4:
 Closer on the leering men at the conference table in the heat of negotiation. 

ARP:
YEAH. YEAH.  THEN WE DIVVY UP THE SPOILS.  MAKE SOME NEW MAPS.  EVENLY DISTRIBUTE SOME CONFISCATED WEALTH. 

BELMONDO: 
I HATE THE WAY YOU PUT THINGS, FRITZ. 
YOU SOUND LIKE A FUCKING SOCIALIST. 

PICABIA: 
BUT WE WILL GET PAID.  OUR OPERATION WILL LIVE ON.  MY FRIENDS, WE ARE THE UNDERWORLD IN PARIS...AND BEYOND. 

PANEL 5:
 PICABIA proposing a toast, rising from the table, raising his glass.

PICABIA: 
GENTLEMEN...SCOUNDRELS, I PROPOSE A TOAST... 

PICABIA: 
DEAR OTHERMAN, WHEREVER YOU ARE, WHATEVER YOU ARE...TO HELL WITH YOUR VOODOO LUNATIC KUNG-FU BULLSHIT.  THANK YOU FOR FREEING US FROM OUR DEALINGS WITH THOSE MONSTERS. 

PICABIA: 
MONSTERS LIKE YOU. 

PANEL SIX:
 Closer on PICABIA proposing a toast.  If the other gangsters are visible, they're also raising their 
glasses and laughing. 

PICABIA: 
MAY THE POLICE WE EMPLOY FIND YOU AND TORTURE YOU AND KILL YOU.  TONIGHT.  WE WILL PISS ON YOUR REMAINS AND THE REMAINS OF YOUR VICTIMS 
AND WE WILL RESTORE REASON TO OUR ENTERPRISE. 

PICABIA: 
NO MORE MYSTICS.  NO MORE ANARCHISTS.  NO MORE MAGICIANS.  THIS THING THAT WE DO IS NOT AN ART.  IT IS NOT A SCIENCE.  IT'S A FUCKING BUSINESS. 

PICABIA: 
SO HERE'S TO BUSINESS...AND FUCKING. 

MELINDA (OFF-PANEL): 
I THINK THAT'S MY CUE TO EXIT, YOU HORRIBLE MEN. 


PAGE FOUR (five panels): 
PANEL ONE:  
The crimelords rising from their seats instinctively.  Vulgar as they may be, some genetic gallantry is triggered at the approach of Melinda Lee, a chic American in her early twenties, willowy and cool with sad blue eyes.  She has her things (a camera bag and a small fur 
and a small Chanel purse).  She has an air of kidding cruelty.  She pokes fun at beasts and gets 
away with it. 

MELINDA: 
I'VE DONE ENOUGH SLUMMING FOR ONE EVENING. 

BELMONDO: 
BUT MELINDA, THE PARTY'S JUST GETTING STARTED. 

PICABIA: 
I TOLD YOU, BELMONDO.  SEE HOW THE GREAT BEAUTY SHRINKS FROM THE BRUTALITY OF BUSINESS?  SHE'S NOT FOR YOU. SHE'S AN ARTIST.  AND A WORK OF ART HERSELF.
PANEL 2:
 Melinda making model faces, rolling her eyes a bit at Picabia, putting Belmondo in his place like 
he's a mama's boy making bold claims of courage. 

MELINDA: 
BUT ENOUGH ABOUT ME.  I'M GOING HOME. 

BELMONDO: 
MELINDA, GO HOME WITH ME. 

MELINDA: 
IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU'VE BEEN GROUNDED, MY DASHING HOOLIGAN.  AND THIS PLACE IS TACKY.  I HAVE WORK TO DO. 

PANEL 3: 
Belmondo almost begging.  He's pretending to be kidding.  Acting a bit melodramatically as the 
rough romantic lead, but actually wanting to be with her for a few more hours. 

BELMONDO: 
MELINDA.  I'D GIVE UP CRIME FOR YOU. 

MELINDA: 
THEN THERE'D BE NOTHING INTERESTING ABOUT YOU, JEAN-PIERRE. 

BELMONDO: 
YOU WOUND ME AND THEN YOU LAUGH. 

PANEL 4:
  Melinda exits the den of iniquity, in the foreground, smirking and walking towards us. 
strutting out of a room of ill repute like a coquettishly disgusted aristocrat.  In the 
background, Picabia has escorted a pretty girl over to the suddenly single Belmondo. 

MELINDA: 
I PICTURE YOU GETTING OVER IT. 

MELINDA: 
GOOD NIGHT, GORILLAS.  IT'S BEEN A KICK. 

PICABIA: 
AU REVOIR, PRINCESSE DE GLACE. 

ARP: 
CALL ME! 

PANEL 5:
 The Lautreamont luxury car pulling up in front of the Oriflamme Hotel. 

Caption:
 ORDINARY KILLERS CAN EXHAUST THEIR PASSION FOR THE TASK AT HAND BY CASING THE JOINT, STUDYING MAPS, AND ISOLATING VANTAGE POINTS FOR THE 
CLEANEST KILL. 


PAGE FIVE (eight panels):
 PANEL 1:
 Vache in his slouch hat and fur-lined overcoat, entering the luxurious lobby of the Oriflamme. 

Caption:
 BUT I'M NOT JUST A HITMAN.  I'M OTHERMAN

Caption:
 I WAS BORN EXHAUSTED. 

PANEL 2:
 Orgy in the gangster rumpus room.  Belmondo is drinking champagne from the bottle as a prostitute loosens his tie and Picabia looms over his shoulder.
PICABIA: 
MODELS COME AND GO, JEAN-PIERRE.  BEAUTY IS A BUSINESS.  PLEASURE IS A BUSINESS. 

PANEL 3:
 Vache walking purposefully to a plush red velvet armchair in the lobby.  A concierge calls out to 
him.
CONCIERGE: 
CAN I BE OF ASSISTANCE, SIR? 

VACHE: 
NO.  WAITING FOR SOMEONE.  I'M SITTING DOWN 
OVER HERE. 

Caption:
 I JUST FIND A NICE PLACE TO TAKE A NAP.
PANEL 4:
Belmondo wiping tears from his eyes as he has angry sex with the prostitute.  Picabia is exiting 
with a cigar, a champagne bottle, and two other prostitutes.
PICABIA: 
...LOVE IS A BUSINESS... 

PANEL 5: 
Vache in his fancy chair, in a casually meditative posture, hat slouched over his eyes. 

Caption:
 ONCE I GO UNDER, I CAN FIND THE REST OF ME AND EXTEND SERRATED TENDRILS INTO EVERY DREAM I CAN REACH. 

PANEL 6:
 Melinda walking down the sprawling staircase. checking her camera.  


Caption:
 DREAMING ISN'T A BUSINESS.  DREAMING IS BEYOND BUSINESS. DREAMING IS AN ECOLOGY. 

PANEL 7:
Unconscious revellers in the gangster orgy room.   Gangsters and harlots.  Opium pipes.  Half-empty glasses. 

Caption:
 SO MANY CONTIGUOUS BUBBLES OF TRANCE AND DELIRIUM. 

Caption:
 EVERY SLEEPING HEAD IS A READY VECTOR MY RAZOR-LACED TENTACLES CAN SLITHER THROUGH. 

PANEL 8:
 Bigger frame of the lobby.  Vache in the foreground, in the chair, sleeping.  Concierge in 
the middle distance.  assorted nouveau riche gangster and moll types.  Distantly, Melinda 
coming down the staircase. 

Caption:
 MY SHADOW FALLS ACROSS YOUR THOUGHTS. 

Caption:
 I DO MY BEST WORK WHEN I'M UNCONSCIOUS. 

Caption: 
I WONDER... 

Caption:
 HOW MANY HEADS CAN I VIOLATE AT ONCE? 


PAGE SIX: 
PANEL 1:
 The cemetery at Montparnasse, submerged in the toxic depths of a dead ocean, deep in the dreams of Arp, the freelance terrorist.  Tea party in an underwater graveyard.  Otherman approaches in the background, floating and malevolent, parting curtains of algae, a halo of pale, angular fire flickering around his head, the Otherman icon on his head throbbing with infinitely receding orifices and doorways.  Arp looks bewildered.   He's holding a tea cup.  Tea is splashing out of it in a cloud.  He seems unsure as to whether he should worry about drowning or not. 

Caption:
 I'LL START WITH ONE.  FRITZ ARP.   SWISS, LIKE THE CHEESE.  FREELANCE TERRORIST.  FORMER OPERATIVE OF THE NOWHERE MAN. ASSOCIATED WITH 
THE DADA CRIME FAMILY. NIHILIST. DIFFICULT TO REASON WITH.
Caption:
 DEATH BY DREAM OF DROWNING. 

PANEL 2:
 A vast subterranean dream-room that combines the features and functions of dance club and bowling alley.  Chandaliers bloom from stalactites.  The gangster, FILTHY JAVIER (visible at the conference on page 3), is trying to impress a famous actress who's headed for the dance floor.  Otherman, hunched and conspiratorial like the devil jimself, is offering Javier a pair of magic red bowling shoes emblazoned with the Otherman insignia and delicate machineries.  Javier is smiling, knowing that these shoes will allow him to dance gracefully for days and days. 


OTHERMAN & THE ORAKULOIDS #1...script by Jason Squamata...Page 22

Caption:
 TWO, A NEW DREAM TO INFEST AND INFECT EVEN AS FRITZ INHALES AN IMAGINARY OCEAN. SUDDENLY LUCID AND DOOMED.  THIS DREAM BELONGS TO FILTHY JAVIER. 

Caption:
 A TOOL AS OPPOSED TO AN INSTRUMENT.  JAVIER KILLS FOR MONEY.  HE LOVES THE NIGHTLIFE, BUT HE CAN'T DANCE.  THIS DREAM ALWAYS ENDS IN 
SHAME.  I CAN TELL BY THE STINK OF IT. 

Caption:
 NO SHAME TONIGHT, JAVIER.  SHOW THEM WHAT YOU CAN DO.  THIS CHARLESTON NEED NEVER END, JAVIER. DEATH BY DREAM OF DANCING. 

PANEL 3:
 A vast expanse of desert under a sky made of money.  There are sportscars half-submerged in 
sand.  The sand is pock-marked by smouldering cigars, like the whole world is an ashtray.picabia 
is in the foreground with his back to us, sweating profusely, crawling on his hands and knees.  In 
the distance, swathed by streaks of mirage, Otherman stands underneath a hovering parasol, 
offering a bottle of frothing champagne. 

Caption:
 THREE DREAMS NOW. PICABIA.  PICABIA.  PICABIA.  
SINCE THE WAR, CRUDE OPPORTUNISTS LIKE YOU HAVE BEEN EXPLOITING THE GENERAL AMBIENCE OF DESPERATION IN PARIS WITH A KIND OF REPULSIVE 
FINESSE. 

OTHERMAN & THE ORAKULOIDS #1...script by Jason Squamata...Page 23

Caption: 
LIKE SILKY PIGS WALLOWING IN THE SLOP OF HUMAN SUFFERING.  DRIVEN BY MONEY.  POSSESSED BY MONEY.  MURDERED FOR NO GOOD REASON UNDER 
UNFORGIVING CONSTELLATIONS OF CRUEL AND UNUSUAL CURRENCY.  BLOOD MONEY BLOOD MONEY BLOOD. 

Caption:
 DEATH IS A BUSINESS, FRANCIS.  DEATH BY DREAM OF THE DESERT.
PANEL 4:
 Inside an old-school funhouse hall of mirrors. Belmondo stands in the midst of them, but every 
mirror reflects Otherman,except for one, which reflects tittering Melinda Lee from page 4.  The 
mirrors are exploding.  broken glass flying in all directions. He' shielding his eyes.  He's wearing 
brass knuckles on each fist. 

Caption:
 THREE KILLS AND COUNTING..UH-OH.  BELMONDO. THIS ONE'S IN LOVE.  ITS TRICKY TO ONEIRICALLY SUPPLANT AN ACTIVE OBJECT OF OBSESSION.  BUT 
IT'S WHAT I NEED TO DO TO TURN THIS THUG'S DREAM INTO HIS TORTURE CHAMBER. 

Caption:
 INSTEAD OF MY CRYPT. 

Caption:
 I KNOW THE GIRL HE'D FILL THESE MIRRORS WITH. I KNOW EVERYBODY, BUT HER ESPECIALLY.  I'VE BEEN IN HER DREAMS.  SHE'S NOT MADE OF ICE. 

PANEL 5:
 An iconic stencil of Otherman's face in dreaming mode at the center of the preceding four frames.

PAGE SEVEN (seven panels): 
PANEL 1:
 Melinda sauntering down the stairs, taking pictures.  Heads are turning to behold her. 
gangsters are covering their faces so as not to be exposed in Melinda's portfolio. 

Caption:
 SHE'S ELECTRIC. 

Caption:
 A WOMAN FROM A FUTURE AGE, STRANDED HERE WITH US MONKEYS.  MAKING THE MOST OF IT. 

Caption:
 I DON'T BLAME YOU A BIT, BELMONDO, BUT SHE WAS ALWAYS OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE. 

PANEL 2:
 Portion of sleeping Vache in the foreground.  In the deep focus background, Melinda is terrorizing more bad men and their mistresses, slumming socialites and their gigolos, etc. (with her camera).
Caption:
 AND YOU AND YOUR TERRIBLE FRIENDS ARE IN MY WAY AND YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE TO SUBMIT TO MY INFLUENCE AND NOW YOU HAVE TO DIE VIOLENTLY IN A DREAM OF LOVE. 

Caption: 
LOVE AND NARCISSISM.  I'M THAT WAY, TOO.  OTHER PEOPLE ARE JUST ACCESSORIES.  SHOULD HAVE CHOSEN A SHARPER OUTFIT, BELMONDO. 

PANEL 3: 
Flash inside the dream that's happening.  Otherman floating in an ocean of Belmondo's blood and bits of his features, shards of mirror that reflect him screaming.
Caption: 
OR DULLER BITS OF MIRROR. 

Caption: 
LOOK AT YOU IN PIECES.  LOOK AT ME, UNCUT.  UNTOUCHABLE. 

PANEL 4:
 The flesh and blood Belmondo waking up screaming in the rumpus room, looking as if his body has been half-shredded by bits of broken mirror. Staring at his reflection, screaming more from 
annihilated vanity than the physical agony.  His scream is an asphyxiated gurgle.  The prostitute 
he's coiled up with is beholding him with horror. 

Caption:
 I AM THE MIRROR, JEAN-PIERRE.  I AM THE REFLECTION YOU CAST AND THE EYE YOU SEE IT WITH. 

Caption:
 I AM THE MIND THAT KNOWS ITSELF AS YOU. 

Caption:
 I AM THAT SELF. 

PANEL 5:
 The flashbulb bursting. 

Caption:
 I AM THE OTHER. 

Caption:
 THE YOU THAT THINKS IT'S NOT ME NEEDS TO DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE. 

Caption:
 IN A CLOUD OF BROKEN GLASS. 

PANEL 6:
 The lobby of the Oriflamme Hotel.  Vache leaping up, clearly disoriented, clutching Melinda's 
wrist. At the upper right hand corner of the frame, a scream starts that runs across and off 
the top of panel 7. 

Caption:
DEATH BY DREAM OF DEFIANCE! 

VACHE: 
WHY DID YOU TAKE MY PICTURE?

MELINDA: 
I DON'T KNOW.  SOMETHING ABOUT YOU... 

MELINDA: 
SOMETHING "OTHER". 

VACHE: 
GIVE ME THE FILM. 

MELINDA: 
NO. 

PANEL 7:
 Just outside the lobby, on the front steps of the Oriflamme, Melinda in the foreground, as if she's 
chased him outside.  Beyond her, Vache hurriedly heads to the Lautreamont luxury car.  

VACHE: 
FINE.  I'LL SEE YOU. 

Caption:
 ...IN YOUR DREAMS. 

Caption:
 I COULD ENTER YOURS ANYWHERE. 

Caption: 
 BECAUSE YOU'RE JUST LIKE ME, MELINDA LEE. 


PAGE EIGHT (seven panels): 
PANEL 1:
 Panel of the "Indestructible Object" on the mantelpiece of X-ray Mankiewicz.  A metronome with a screen-shaped photo of Melinda Lee's eye at the tip of its needle.  It's tilting to the left. 

Caption:
 YOU HAUNT PEOPLE. 

F/X: 
CLICK! 

PANEL 2:
 Tilting to the right. 

Caption:
 IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT. 

F/X: 
CLACK! 

PANEL 3:
 Tilting to the left. 

Caption:
 IT'S YOUR NATURE.

OTHERMAN & THE ORAKULOIDS #1...script by Jason Squamata...Page 31

F/X: 
CLICK! 

F/X: 
BZZZT!-BZZZT! 

PANEL 4:
 Square panel of X-Ray Mankiewicz (a hardboiled cross between Man Ray and Weegee), sitting in an expensive-looking leather chair (splattered with paint), hunched over, smoking cigarettes, staring into space.  There's a big deluxe radio in this room, a door to the hall and the stairs, a door to the bedroom, and a door to the darkroom.  The decor is arty and fascinating, but sort of 
austere.  He's clutching a pair of lacy black panties.  He has tears in his eyes.  There may be 
a bottle of scotch in the picture and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. 

X-RAY: 
WHERE ARE YOU? 

F/X (IN UPPER LEFT HAND QUADRANT): 
BZZZT!-BZZZT! 

F/X (IN UPPER RIGHT HAND CORNER): 
BZZZT!-BZZZT! 

X-RAY: 
SHIT. 


PANEL 5:
 X-Ray, still smoking, opening the door.  Two gendarmes are here to collect him.  He's obviously 
not shocked.  They must collect him on a regular basis.
GENDARME 1: 
MR. MANKIEWICZ?  CHIEF INSPECTOR DES ESSEINTES URGENTLY REQUIRES YOUR SERVICES, SIR. 

X-RAY: 
X-RAY. 

GENDARME 2: 
EXCUSE ME, SIR? 

X-RAY: 
EVERYBODY CALLS ME X-RAY. 

PANEL 6: 
In the foreground, , X-Ray put his coat on and straightens his tie.  A wider view of the room 
makes it evident that there are bizarre dream photographs of Melinda Lee everywhere, including a 
few with the two of them together.  The gendarmes are gathering his camera bags. 

GENDARME 1: 
WE'LL JUST COLLECT YOUR EQUIPMENT, THEN...X-RAY. 

X-RAY: 
THOSE THREE BLACK BAGS.  THE STUFF IS ALWAYS PACKED. 

X-RAY: 
I'M ALWAYS JUST WAITING FOR SOMETHING TO HAPPEN. 

X-RAY: 
WAITING FOR HER TO HAPPEN. 

PANEL 7:
 Truncated view of the gendarmes exiting with his stuff, x-ray strutting behind them.  He has the 
strut of a jazz cat.  He's following them out the door.  We realize he was facing this massive print 
of one of his photos of Melinda Lee, obviously the Melinda we met at the Oriflamme.  

X-RAY: 
...OR SOMETHING HORRIBLE. 

X-RAY: 
TELL ME ABOUT THE CRIMESCENE. 

X-RAY: 
BUT GO SLOW.  YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED, BUT MY FRENCH IS TERRIBLE. 

Page
Panel 1 Long horizontal panel.  The front steps of the 
Oriflamme Hotel.  Many police.  A few doormen. 
various guests and employess being questioned.  At 
the top of the steps, Chief Inspector Des 
Esseintes, a tall, spindly dandy with a luxurious 
jet-black moustache and a shaved head.  Fleshy 
lips and the oceanic gaze of an insatiable letch. 
He wears a thick fur coat with a stargazer lily in 
its left lapel.  Mounting the stairs: X-Ray and 
the two gendarmes who are carrying his bags.  At 
the bottom of the stairs, the police wagon has 
been driven up on the sidewalk and parked 
abruptly.
X-RAY: 
DES ESSEINTES.  LOOKS LIKE A MESS.
DES ESSEINTES:
YOU DON'T KNOW THE HALF OF IT, SHUTTERBUG. 
FRESH DEPTHS OF HORROR TO WHICH YOUR LENS MUST 
BEAR WITNESS.
DES ESSEINTES: 
SPEAKING OF MESSES...ARE YOU STILL INVOLVED 
WITH THAT YOUNG AMERICAN GIRL? 

Panel 2
DES ESSEINTES and X-Ray entering the lobby of the 
Oriflamme.  There are gendarmes everywhere, 
questioning the guests and the staff.  Several 
arrests are being made.  Gendarmes and 
plainclthesmen are purposefully striding up and 
down the extravagant staircase. Melinda Lee is 
smoking a cigarette in the background or the 
foreground, detained by gendarmes, noticing X-Ray 
like she's been waiting for him to show.  Des 
Esseintes is gesturing towards her. 

X-RAY: 
VERY MUCH SO.  WHY DO YOU ASK? 

DES ESSEINTES: 
NO OFFENSE.  IT'S JUST THAT SHE SEEMS TO TURN 
UP IN THE STRANGEST PLACES.  CONSORTING WITH 
CRIMINAL TYPES AND WHATNOT. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
YOU MIGHT TRY TO KEEP HER ON A SHORTER LEASH. 

Panel 3
X-Ray standing at a slight electric distance from 
melinda.  Her camera is safely hidden away.  He's 
shocked and angry and somehow not at all surprised 
to be seeing her here.  She's counting on him to 
remain clear despite his neurotic jealousies and 
to listen. 

X-RAY: 
MELINDA. 

MELINDA: 
X-RAY.  LISTEN. 

X-RAY: 
IS THIS WHERE YOU'VE BEEN ALL NIGHT? 

MELINDA: 
ALMOST.  LISTEN. 

X-RAY: 
DID YOU SEE ANYTHING? 

MELINDA: 
UM, NO.  BUT...

X-RAY: 
THEN GO HOME. 

Panel 4
Another angle on Melinda and X-Ray, this time with 
Des Esseintes visible in the background, standing 
at a respectful but inquisitive distance. A 
gendarme might be bothering him with something, 
but his eyes are on the couple and his hand might 
be raised to silence the distraction. 

X-RAY: 
IS SHE FREE TO GO, CHIEF INSPECTOR? 

DES ESSEINTES: 
OF COURSE.  WE HAVE TOO MANY TARTS TO 
INTERROGATE AS IT IS.  AND WE KNOW WHERE YOU 
LIVE. 

MELINDA: 
X! 

Panel 5
X-Ray is resolute but exasperated.  Melinda is 
disgusted and angry and, at this point, determined 
to keep that strange encounter with Vache to 
herself.  She's turning away, already leaving. 

X-RAY: 
PLEASE!...PLEASE GO HOME.  I'LL BE DONE WITH 
THIS SOON. 

MELINDA: 
FINE.  FUCK YOU. 
 Page 10 
Panel 1
Vertical panel.  The rumpus room, dead gangsters 
everywhere.  a live crimescene.  There are all the 
signs of epic decadence, or its residue, left 
untouched so the forensic people can take the 
measurements of this grisly tableaux vivant in its 
natural state.  Gendarmes are standing with 
bodyBags at the ready.  The gendarmes we met at 
x-ray's flat have unpacked his bags and set up his 
camera equipment.  Enter X-Ray and Des Esseintes, 
still deep in conversation, oblivious to the 
hubbub like they've been forever jaded by a 
surfeit of grisliness. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
YOU SHOULD DROP THAT LITTLE BITCH, MANKIEWICZ. 
THE BORDELLOS MISS YOU. 

X-RAY: 
LOVE, I'M AFRAID, HAS RENDERED EVERY BORDELLO 
OBSOLETE. 

X-RAY: 
ARE THESE OTHERMAN MURDERS? 

DES ESSEINTES: 
OBVIOUSLY.  TWISTED, VICIOUS, AND INEXPLICABLE. 
OTHERMAN THROUGH AND THROUGH. 

Panel 2
Imagine a Man Ray crime photo.  The corpse of 
Fritz Arp, bruised from within like he ran out of 
air at the bottom of the sea.  In the shirt we 
last saw him in, but no pants.  Little hobbyhorses 
on his boxer shorts.  His dead body has been 
vomiting water.  The carpet is somewhat soaked 
underneath him.  The shot is brutal and forensic, 
but tinted faintly with "Otherness". 

X-RAY (OFF-PANEL): 
WHO ARE THEY? 

DES ESSEINTES (OFF-PANEL): 
SCUM OF THE EARTH.  THIS IS FRITZ ARP, DADA MOB 
DEMOLITIONS EXPERT.  SEEMS TO HAVE DROWNED IN 
THE ARABESQUES OF THIS CARPET PATTERN. 

Panel 3
X-Ray setting up the camera for another 
incandescent death portrait, talking to des 
esseintes, who has great admiration for X-Ray's 
artistry and insists on his  photos at every 
crimescene.  He likes to watch the artist at 
work.  X-Ray has almost forgotten all about his 
troubles with Melinda.  He's fascinated and 
energized by what the camera is seeing in these 
bodies. 

X-RAY: 
OTHERMAN IS THE ULTIMATE CRIMINAL!  HE BREAKS 
THE LAWS OF NATURE! 

DES ESSEINTES: 
I'VE BROKEN A FEW OF THOSE MYSELF, SHUTTERBUG. 
BUT I'M THE CHIEF INSPECTOR.  EVERY LAW OF GOD 
AND MAN IS MINE TO INTERPRET AS I SEE FIT.  

DES ESSEINTES: 
OTHERMAN IS JUST A HUNGRY PUZZLE.  ANOTHER 
ENIGMA FOR MY CASEBOOK.  I'M ALREADY SOLVING 
HIM. 

Panel 4
A shot of Filthy Javier, just skin and bones now 
from all the dream dancing, still convulsing and 
contorting though he's been technically dead for 
an hour.
DES ESSEINTES (OFF-PANEL): 
THIS ONE. JAVIER JEROME, ALL-PURPOSE THUG AND 
BRUTALIZER.  DANCED HIMSELF TO DEATH.  HIS 
DEATH GOES RIGHT ON DANCING. 

Panel 5
A shot of Picabia, naked and dehydrated like he's 
been stuck on mars, his tongue swollen and his 
eyes bulging, his torso perforated with cigar 
burns. 

DES ESSEINTES (OFF-PANEL): 
AND FELIX PICABIA.  AN OLD RIVAL, SOMETIMES AN 
INFORMANT.  A MAJOR CRIMINAL MASTERMIND. 
HEALTHY AS AN OX THREE HOURS AGO, NOW 
COMPLETELY DEHYDRATED AND DIABOLICALLY 
DESECRATED. 

Panel 6
X-Ray taking his camera apart, staring into space, 
suddenly haunted.  Des Esseintes looming behind 
him. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
I DIDN'T WANT TO MAKE FOR A SCENE DOWNSTAIRS, 
BUT YOUR "STUDENT" HAD A CAMERA.I'LL NEED YOU 
TO BRING ME THAT FILM.  ALL OF IT. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
WHY SO PALE, SHUTTERBUG?  LOSING YOUR STOMACH 
FOR THIS KIND OF WORK? 

X-RAY: 
NO.  I JUST REALIZED I'M MISSING MY FAVORITE 
RADIO PROGRAM. 

Page 11 
Panel 1 Shot of the deluxe radio in X-Ray's studio, as if 
it's a character and it's addressing us directly. 

RADIO VOICE: 
...POLICE HAVE OFFERED NO COMMENT, BUT THREE 
BODIES HAVE BEEN CONFIRMED, WITH ONE 
UNFORTUNATE BUSINESSMAN STILL IN CRITICAL 
CONDITION AT THE VAL DE GRACE MILITARY 
HOSPITAL. 

Panel 2
Pulling back from the radio to reveal the whole 
studio from page eight.  The metronome is 
perfectly still.  Melinda's fur and evening dress 
are heaped here and there.  The photo of her is 
visible.  

RADIO VOICE: 
IS THIS ATROCITY THE WORK OF SOME NEW 
ARCH-FIEND OUT TO TERRORIZE PARIS IN THE 
CROOKED FOOTSTEPS OF FANTOMAS AND THE 
LIBERTINE?
Panel 3
Melinda Lee in the darkroom in a black bra and 
panties, developing her shot of Vache, smoking a 
cigarette.  Red bulb turning her skin into 
bloodsoaked snow. 

RADIO VOICE: 
DOESN'T THE PUBLIC HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW WHEN A 
BEAST IS LOOSE ON OUR STREETS, IN OUR 
NIGHTCLUBS, IN OUR LUXURY HOTELS? 

Panel 4
She hangs the photo on a thin black clothesline. 
it's still dripping.  She stares with concentrated 
fascination. 

RADIO VOICE: 
PONDER THESE QUESTIONS, PEOPLE OF PARIS.  JOIN 
ME TOMORROW FOR A REPORT FROM POLICE 
HEADQUARTERS.  IN THE MEANTIME, ENJOY AN HOUR 
OF NONSENSE WITH ROBERT DESNOS... 

Panel 5
Over her shoulder, we see the hanging photo. 
Vache sleeping in the oriflamme lobby.  His 
otherman halo of flame is faintly visible, like an 
aura in a Kirlian photograph. 

RADIO VOICE: 
THANK YOU, FURIOUS FANDOR.  DO GET SOME SLEEP. 
IF EVER A MAN WAS IN NEED OF A DREAM, IT'S YOU. 

Panel 6
The main studio space again, outside the closed 
darkroom door.  X-Ray, still in his coat and hat, 
like he's just come home on tiptoes, sitting on 
the floor, clutching her dress, smoking.  The 
front door is open.  His equipment cases are 
visible.  The radio is visible. 

RADIO VOICE: 
GOOD EVENING, PARIS.  THIS VOICE BELONGS TO 
ROBERT DESNOS.  I AM YOUR HUMBLE DREAMER, YOUR 
 RADIO GHOST.  I'M ALREADY SICK TO DEATH OF 
TERROR.  JOIN ME IN A DREAM OF OTHERNESS... 

Page 12 
Panel 1
Radio of a different model in the studio of Max 
Ernst, seated at a large table, which is littered 
with forms freshly scissored from catalogues and 
encyclopedias and magazines.  Pots of glue. 
Densely populated birdcages hanging from every 
hook.  Ernst is holding scissors and staring into
space, clearly listening to the broadcast. 

RADIO VOICE: 
ALL DAY LONG, RADIO VOICES SPEAK TO YOU OF THE 
NEWS, THE FACTS, THE LAW, THE LO-DOWN, THE 
SKINNY, THE REAL DEAL, THE STRAIGHT DOPE. 

Panel 2
Radio of a different model in the bathroom of 
Avida Dollars (a young Salvador Dali, whippet-thin 
and much too intense, like a melting matinee 
idol).  In the foreground, Gala (his somewhat 
older, harshly beautiful,brunette bride) is being 
fondled by a street tough at the sink.  She's 
handing him money.  The sink is filled with hunks 
of swiss cheese and the guts of several 
pocketwatches.  In the background, Dali is in the 
bathtub, presumably masturbating, glaring at them 
with a look of utter rapture. 

RADIO VOICE: 
YOUR HUMBLE RADIO GHOST WOULD PART THE VEILS OF 
TODAY'S HORRIBLE HEADLINES TO SNEAK A PEEK AT 
WHAT PARIS IS DREAMING. 

Panel 3
Radio of a different model in the office of Dr. 
Charcot.  He's pausing to savor the broadcast in 
the midst of his examination of a beautiful young 
hysteric in a chic strait-jacket.  Two orderlies 
are standing by, clearly smitten with her. 

RADIO VOICE: 
AND LATELY, ALL OF PARIS SEEMS TO BE DREAMING 
OF A DARK AND DANGEROUS STRANGER. 

Panel 4 Radio of a different model in the lair of Jacques 
Vache, elegant in a Buddhist bathrobe and 
slippers, relaxing with some psychoactive tea 
after a difficult night at work, gazing out at 
paris through his big eye-shaped window.  a radio 
tower is glowing red in the distance. 

RADIO VOICE: 
AN AVATAR OF OTHERNESS, CASTING SPINDLY SHADOWS 
INTO AND THROUGH OUR MOST INTIMATE NIGHTMARES. 

Panel 5 In the foreground Desnos with his back to us in 
what is obviously a radio studio.  In the 
background, facing us and him, there's a window 
into the control booth where his assistant is 
anxious, holding up a sign that says "NON!" 

DESNOS: 
IF THE GHOULS OF OUR UNDERWORLD SHOULD WAKE TO 
FIND THEIR TRYST WITH MYSTERY HAS BRUISED
THEM...WHAT OF IT? 

Panel 6
Like a camera pan to take in more of Desnos, 
losing the window.  It's robert desnos, radio 
dreamboat.  His dreamy eyes.  The slick black 
hair.  His smirk, bemused at his engineer's 
agitation, signing off for the evening, bringing 
the broadcast to a close. 

DESNOS: 
THE POOR OF PENNY AND THE PURE OF HEART WILL GO 
ON DREAMING OF A RIOT RAUCOUS ENOUGH TO AWAKEN 
THEM. 

DESNOS: 
NO DREAM IS SO COMPLETE THAT WE CAN GO ON 
SLEEPING. 

DESNOS: 
NOT EVEN THIS DREAM WE LIVE IN AND MISTAKE FOR 
A WORLD, A STREET, A CITY... 

Page 13 
Panel 1
Desnos exiting the radio booth as Fandor, the 
hardboiled crime reporter, enters it.  There's no 
love lost between them.  Fandor thinks Desnos is 
frivolous.  Desnos thinks Fandor is dull. 
FANDOR: 
PRETENTIOUS RUBBISH.  NOW TO CURE SOME POETRY 
WITH SOME HARSH REALITY. 

DESNOS: 
TRY, FANDOR.  FAIL. TRY AGAIN. FAIL AGAIN. 
FAIL BETTER. 

Panel 2
Desnos leaving the main studio, the engineer from 
page 12 reminding him that their jobs are in 
jeopardy if they mention Otherman on the air. 

MANQUE: 
DESNOS!  THE POLICE HAVE MADE IT VERY CLEAR. 
WE ARE NOT TO SPEAK OF OTHERMAN ON THE 
AIR...ESPECIALLY IN SUCH RAPTUROUS TONES! 

DESNOS: 
I CAN ONLY SPEAK THE TRUTH, MR. MANQUE.  AT THE 
MOMENT, THE TRUTH IS OTHERMAN

Panel 3
Lupine, the secretary, handing Desnos a massive 
stack of letters as he walks down the hall to his 
office, dismissing the engineer.
LUPINE: 
ROBERT! 

DESNOS: 
LUPINE.  FAN MAIL?  MORE BLEEDING DREAMS TO 
READ? 

Panel 4
Lupine follows him into his small, cramped 
office.  She's already read the letters.  His 
office is in complete disarray, with dram 
narratives and dream doodles tacked up and taped 
all over the walls.  Prints of fantastical art 
that predates the surrealists.  A few crude 
drawings of Otherman's dream self. 

DESNOS: 
THERE'S A BLACK ANGEL LOOSE IN OUR DREAMS, 
LUPINE!  THE CENSORS WOULD SILENCE OUR SIGHS OF 
SALVATION! 

DESNOS: 
GAG THE ORACLE AND HEAVEN ROTS INSIDE US. 

Panel 5
He's half-listening to her and flipping through 
the letters, casting them willy-nilly in all 
directions. 

DESNOS: 
AND WHAT ARE WE LEFT WITH?  FLYING DREAMS? 
DOMESTIC DREAMS?  TAKING EXAMS IN ONE'S 
UNDRPANTS?  DREAMS OF SPONGY SUNSETS AND 
RESURRECTED PETS? 

Panel 6
She's picking them up off the floor as he pours 
himself a glass of absinthe. 

LUPINE: 
FAR BE IT FROM ME TO INTERRUPT YOUR 
LAMENTATIONS, ROBERT, BUT "THE ORACLES" HAVE 
INVITED YOU TO A PARTY. 

Panel 7
She hands him one letter that he takes a sudden, 
obvious interest in.  An engraved invitation to a 
private exhibition of Orakuloid art.  A crude 
sketch of Otherman on the cover of a tabloid is 
visible in the background, pinned to the wall. 

DESNOS: 
A CLANDESTINE EXHIBITION OF SHAMELESS 
ORAKULISM? 

LUPINE: 
TOMORROW NIGHT.  GO MAKE A FRIEND.  JUST DON'T 
SPEAK OF IT ON THE AIR.
LUPINE: 
OR THEY'LL FIRE YOU AND HAVE ME DIGGING UP 
FILTH FOR FANDOR. 


Page 14 
Panel 1 Cut to an exterior shot of the central Parisian 
Police bureau.  That same crude sketch of 
Otherman, printed alongside the photograph of 
vache that Melinda took, in on the front page of a 
major newspaper, being hawked by a newsvendor in 
front of the station. 

NEWSVENDOR: 
3 DEAD, 1 DISFIGURED IN HOTEL OF HORROR! 

COMMISSIONER PETIOT: 
GENTLEMEN, I URGE YOU TO REFRAIN FROM 
SENSATIONALISM! 

Panel 2
Outside the commissioner's office.  An impromptu 
press conference.  Des Esseintes and Acephale, his 
attache are alongside Commisioner Petiot, with a 
few gendarmes.  Fandor is one of the reporters at 
this pres conference, grilling the commisioner for 
more information.  Wanted posters of Vache (from 
Melinda's photo) are visible on the walls of the 
station. 

REPORTER: 
THESE ARE SENSATIONAL CRIMES, COMMISSIONER. 

COMMISSIONER PETIOT: 
ALL THE MORE REASON TO HANDLE THEM WITH 
DELICACY. 

FANDOR: 
ARE YOU STILL DENYING THAT THESE ARE THE CRIMES 
OF OTHERMAN

DES ESSEINTES: 
THESE CRIMES ARE NONE OF THE PUBLIC'S BUSINESS 
UNTIL I MAKE AN ARREST AND A PUBLIC STATEMENT. 

Panel 3
Des Esseintes delivering a cryptic bon mot.  The 
Commissioner calling a halt to the questioning. 
The gendarmes opening the doors to his office and 
holding back the reporters. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
AS FOR OTHERMAN, HE REMAINS ELUSIVE, BUT WE 
HAVE BRUTALLY INTERROGATED HIS ACCOMPLICE...THE 
TOOTH FAIRY. 

COMMISSIONER PETIOT: 
THAT'S ENOUGH.  NO MORE QUESTIONS.  WE WILL 
HAVE OUR MAN WITHIN THE WEEK. 

Panel 4
The Commissioner, Des Esseintes, and Acephale are 
entering the lavish office.  There's also an 
elderly, expensively dressed German doctor 
standing in the background, looking over the 
shoulder of a fourteen year old girl in a strange 
dress that completely gloves her limbs.  She's 
flipping through a picture book. 

DES ESEINTES: 
THAT'S A BOLD CLAIM, COMMISSIONER. 

Panel 5
THE COMMISSIONER arguing with Des Esseintes, whose 
composure is unflappable.  The little girl is 
looking up from her book. 

COMMISSIONER PETIOT: 
THESE ARE UNCONVENTIONAL TIMES, DES ESSEINTES. 
THE RACKETS ARE IN DISARRAY.  BELMONDO IS STILL 
IN HIS COZY COMA, TELLING US NOTHING.  WE ARE 
FORCED TO FIGHT CRIME WHERE ONCE WE CONTROLLED 
CRIME.  WHO IS THIS OTHERMAN AND WHAT DOES HE 
WANT? 

COMMISSIONER PETIOT: 
IS IT TIME TO UNLEASH OUR GERMAN COLLEAGUES? 

DES ESEINTES: 
NOT YET.  I'M CLOSE.  VERY CLOSE.  I WILL BRING 
OTHERMAN TO JUSTICE.  

Panel 6
Close on the little girl in the foreground, with a 
look of diabolical malice on her face that seems 
well beyond the emotional scope of her tender 
years.  This is Musidora DeSade.  The German 
(Siegfried Schadenfreude) is in the background, 
grinning from ear to ear. 

DES ESEINTES: 
THEN TO THE GERMANS. 

SCHADENFREUDE: 
 DANKE. 

MUSIDORA: 
OTHERMAN IS SOOO DEAD. 

Page 15
Panel 1 Vache's attic lair at the Lautreamont Asylum. 
he's getting dressed in his Otherman gear, which 
we've only seen in gangster dreams and on 
mannequins in his room.  The mannequins are now 
naked and scarred with Tibetan glyphs and sigils. 
there's an ornately framed daguerrotype on the 
wall.  It's Musidora, from a more antique time but 
the same age, still mischievous but taken before 
she went completely crazy.  It's night-time 
again.  We can see a bit of it through the big 
bloodshot window.  He's talking to charcot as he 
dresses.
Caption I'VE NEVER FELT SO ALIVE. 

Caption I'VE NEVER FELT SO...DANGEROUS. 

VACHE: 
DID THE ALCHEMIST MIX THIS SHIT HIMSELF? 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT: 
THE PSYCHOACTIVE ELIXIRS?  YES. 

Panel 2
Charcot is dressed in full night-at-the opera 
regalia, administering a series of injections to 
vache.  there's that same nervous-looking nurse in 
the background, Nurse Corday in her gasmask, 
assisting with the procedure.  

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT: 
THE POISON, I TAKE IT, IS YOUR OWN CONFECTION? 

VACHE: 
DREAMY AND LETHAL.  LIKE THE BEST THINGS IN 
LIFE. 

Panel 3
Nurse Corday switches on the radio without taking 
her eyes off him, afraid of the very furniture in 
here.  Jazzy musical notation erupts from the 
radio with a click. 

VACHE: 
WAIT.  I DON'T WANT TO MISS DESNOS.  TURN ON 
THE RADIO, CHARLOTTE. 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT 
THEN YOU CAN GO, NURSE. 

Panel 4
In the background, she's backing out slowly, 
towards the elevator..  Vache is rolling down his 
sleeves.  She's relieved of her duties for the 
evening. 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT
HOW DO YOU KNOW IT'S TONIGHT? 

VACHE: 
THIS IS HOW I DREAMED IT. 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT 
I SHOULD BE HERE. 

Panel 5
Vache puts on his Otherman murder mask with the 
big bloodshot eye gaping.  Paris gapes through the 
big eye window behind him.  Charcot is walking 
away, towards us, exiting, putting his opera 
gloves and monocle on and looking grim. Desnos on 
the radio says goodnight, Paris, and thank you. 

VACHE: 
NO.  I NEED YOU IN THE FIELD, MY HIEROPHANT. 
TEACH THEM TO RECEIVE ME.  I'LL SEE YOU. 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT 
IN MY DREAMS.  GOOD NIGHT, JACQUES. 

Page 16 
Panel 1
Small panel of Nurse Corday in an asylum bathroom, 
with her gasmask peeled off, sobbing and vomiting 
into a porcelain toilet. 

Panel 2
Nurse Corday in the distance, with one of the 
orderlies, off duty, walking away from the asylum, 
which is visible in the farther distance.  He's 
walking her home.  Wanted posters of vache are 
visible on walls and posts and newstands.  Maybe 
copies of that front page, as well, blowing in the 
evening breeze.  two gendarmes are chatting in the 
foreground, off to the side. 

ALFONSE: 
I'M DELIGHTED YOU'RE LETTING ME WALK YOU, 
CHARLOTTE. 

ALFONSE: 
HAVEN'T SEEN MUCH OF YOU SINCE YOU STARTED 
WORKING UPSTAIRS. 

ALFONSE: 
WHAT'S THAT LIKE? 

NURSE CORDAY: 
IT'S NOT LIKE ANYTHING.  I'M JUST A NURSE FOR A 
VERY SICK MAN. 

Panel 3
The orderly is prattling on and on, trying to win 
her favor.  She's been working all day long.  she
sees one of those posters for the first time and 
stops with a shock. 

ALFONSE: 
I KNOW I KNOW.  I DIDN'T MEAN TO PRY. 

ALFONSE: 
I'M JUST DELIGHTED, THAT'S ALL.  I'D HATE TO 
THINK OF YOU WALKING THESE STREETS WITH 
OTHERMAN ABOUT. 

NURSE CORDAY: 
WHAT OTHER MAN? 

Panel 4
She's staring at the poster.  Terrified and 
validated.  The orderly is making more smalltalk 
about Otherman the urban myth. 

ALFONSE: 
WHAT OTHER MAN?  YOU DON'T GET OUT MUCH THESE 
DAYS, DO YOU CHARLOTTE? 

ALFONSE: 
HE'S THE TERROR OF THE UNDERWORLD.  HE'S A 
LIVING NIGHTMARE.  LIKE FANTOMAS WHEN WE WERE 
KIDS. 

ALFONSE: 
THAT'S HIM, THERE. 

Panel 5
She walks away from him as if he doesn't exist, 
towards the policemen. 

ALFONSE: 
CHARLOTTE.  YOU BAFFLE ME. 

Panel 6
Des Esseintes in the operations room, surrounded 
by his squad, including Acephale, who's holding a 
telephone.   Dandy cops hunched over blueprints 
and streetmaps and autopsy snaps and mugshots. 
smoking pipes and cigars and cigarettes.  Drinking 
coffee.  Cleaning their guns. 

DES ESEINTES: 
FUCKING GERMANS. 

ACEPHALE: 
NURSE IN THE EIGHTH ARRONDISEMENT.  SHE KNOWS 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE.  ANOTHER CRANK? 

Panel 7
Close on Des Esseintes:  his dramatic close-up on 
the brink of his final enigma, the climactic 
showdown with his arch-nemesis.  Knowing that 
kismet has opened a green door for him in a
shadowy alley. 

DES ESEINTES: 
NO.  I CAN SMELL HIM IN THIS. 

DES ESEINTES: 
SOMETIMES A PUZZLE SOLVES ITSELF! 

DES ESEINTES: 
JUSTICE IS HUNGRY! 

Page 17 
Panel 1
Small panel of Vache's radio, with a Desnos radio 
bubble erupting from it and bleeding into the next 
panel. 

DESNOS (ON THE RADIO): 
...AND SO, WITH THAT, I LEAVE YOU, PARIS, TO 
ANOTHER NIGHT OF DREAMING.  THE HAUNTED 
BOULEVARDS BECKON, THOUGH THE WORLD IS CATCHING 
FIRE IN ALL DIRECTIONS. 

DESNOS (ON THE RADIO): 
SLEEP.  SLEEP AT THE MOLTEN CORE OF CHAOS.  AND 
DREAM.  DREAM DEEPLY OF OTHERNESS. 

Panel 2
Desnos in the foreground and off to the right, 
walking towards us along a parisian avenue, with 
that heavy-lidded stare of his.  Police cars are 
racing right to left, up a street he's already 
passed, blaring sirens, plainclothes enforcers on 
the sideboards. 

Panel 3
Desnos with his back to us, off to the left, 
beholding a palatial (but abandoned) cinema, with 
eyeballs graffittied all over its crumbling 
glory.  Charcot (in opera gear) is standing dead 
center beneath the elaborate marquee.  He's 
wearing a Fantomas-style domino mask. 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT: 
ROBERT DESNOS, I PRESUME?  THE RADIO GHOST? 
I'M A GREAT ADMIRER OF YOUR DREAM-LIFE. CALL ME 
THE HIEROPHANT. 

DESNOS: 
THE HIEROPHANT? 

DR. ANDRE CHARCOT: 
YES.  WE'RE USING CODENAMES. 

Panel 4
Charcot leading a slightly disconcerted desnos 
through the cinema lobby, which is almost
immaculate.  Framed movie posters seem to 
advertize Otherman's grisly crimes as if they were 
episodes in an adventure serial.  

DESNOS: 
I'M A LITTLE CONFUSED...UM...HIEROPHANT.  CAN 
YOU DEFINE "ORAKULISM"? 

CHARCOT: 
HM.  I SUPPOSE...THE FREE FLOW OF UNCONSCIOUS 
IMAGES, DRIVEN BY THE ENGINES OF DESIRE AND 
DELIRIUM? 

DESNOS: 
AN ART MOVEMENT? 

Panel 5
Charcot opening red velvet curtains at the cinema 
entrance, behind Desnos, who has already walked 
through towards us and seems to be in shock.  He's 
not alone in his obsession.  A dream can warp the 
mind like a disease warps the body... 

CHARCOT; 
NO.  A WAY OF SEEING. 

CHARCOT: 
AND WE WHO SEE... 

Page 18 ...and this dream seems to be an epidemic. 

Panel 1
Sprawling splash page.  The cinema has been 
emptied of seats (though there may be a few 
positioned at strange angles, here and there). 
This is an exhibition of Orakuloid art, like a 
surrealist exhibition, populated by all the usual 
suspects (all dressed in formal wear and wearing 
domino masks), with versions of their famous works 
on display, each centered around the mythic 
presence of Otherman.  The huge screen is facing 
us, showing a frame from an Otherman artfilm, 
similar to "Un Chien Andalou".  Otherman in his 
murdermask grinning hideously as the hand of a 
beautiful woman slices his giant iconic eyeball 
with a straitrazor.  The back of Desnos, beholding 
all this, is at the bottom of the frame.  Charcot 
is standing to his left, beaming.  Melinda Lee (of 
all people), in a gorgeous evening dress and a 
mask, is welcoming him to the right, offering a 
mask for him to wear.  This is where we go crazy. 
Avida Dollars and Gala are here.  Max Ernst. 
Leonora Carrington.  Aragon and Eluard.  Yves 
Tanguy and Andre Masson.  Take your pick. 

CHARCOT:
...WE ARE THE ORAKULOIDS!
MELINDA: 
THE RADIO GHOST!  I'M THE BLEEDING ROSE. 
WELCOME TO OUR NIGHTMARE.
Page 19 
Panel 1 Police roaring up to the front steps of the 
Lautreamont Asylum.  Des Esseintes and his best 
men are already here.  Two of his men are dragging 
Nurse Corday up the steps.  She seems a bit 
hysterical.  One of Charcot's dashing doctors and 
three orderlies are walking towards them.
Caption
THE NIGHTMARE I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR ALL MY 
LIFE... 

DOCTOR: 
OFFICER!  WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS? 

DES ESSEINTES: 
"THIS" MEANS YOUR ASYLUM IS HARBORING A 
DANGEROUS CRIMINAL. 

Panel 2  
One of three smaller panels on the middle tier. 
profile showdown between Des Esseintes and this 
doctor.  Des Esseintes is drawing his gun from a 
shoulder holster.  The doctor is full of outrage. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
"THIS" MEANS WE'RE TAKING HIM INTO 
CUSTODY...WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE. 

Panel 3
Des Esseintes has drawn the gun and it's aimed 
directly at the Doctor's face.  The doctor is 
shocked, but he holds his ground. 

DOCTOR: 
THIS IS A HOSPITAL! 

DES ESSEINTES: 
"THIS" IS AN ACCIDENT WAITING TO HAPPEN. 

Panel 4
Des Esseintes blows his brains out.  The orderlies 
recoil and hang back. 

F/X: 
BANG! 

Panel 5
Des Esseintes and his army storming into the 
Asylum lobby, dragging Nurse Corday in by her 
wrist.  She has the doctor's blood all over her. 
another doctor is stepping forward to calm the 
situation. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
SECURE THE EXITS, BOYS.  SHOCK AND TRAUMATIZE! 

DOCTOR 2: 
OFFICER, PLEASE, I'M SURE WE CAN-- 

Panel 6
A plainclothes cop and a gendarme are 
pistol-whipping the doctor to the floor.  Des 
Esseintes is dragging the screaming nurse with 
him, into the elevator. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
LEAVE THE MADMAN IN THE ATTIC TO ME AND OUR 
STAR WITNESS. 

NURSE CORDAY: 
NO!  NO!  NO!  NO! 

Page 20 
Panel 1 Screaming echoes up the elevator shaft. 
Otherman's sanctum sanctorum.  Otherman sits in a 
dense Tibetan prayer chair, where the bathtub was 
on page 2.  Burning candles everywhere.  His mask 
on.  His cartoon halo flickering.  Napping again. 
facing the elevator, his back to the bloodshot 
window. 

NURSE CORDAY: 
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 

OTHERMAN
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ... 

Panel 2
Sprawling shot of the Other, a mental space 
Otherman retreats to when he's dreaming.  It's a 
garden of doors into the dreams of Others and the 
dreams of figures within those dreams.  Windows 
and mirrors that gape on the strangest vistas. 
strange hovering animals.  He chair and Otherman 
are hovering here, before a chessboard .  The 
pieces are sculpted abstractions of Ubermenschen 
(white) and Orakuloids (black), from issues yet to 
come. The Kings: Max Zarathustra (Adolf Hitler) 
and Otherman (Jacques vache).  The Queens: 
Musidora DeSade and Our Lady of the Looking 
Glass(Anima Monday).  Bishops:  Siegfried 
Schadenfreude and the Iron Ghost/The Hierophant 
(Andre Charcot) and The Alchemist (Marcel 
Duchamp).  Rooks:  Totenkopf and Kid 
Blitzkrieg/The Bleeding Rose (melinda Lee) and 
LopLop, King of the Birds.  The Knights: The Chief
Inspector (Joris des Esseintes) and the 
Connoisseur (Anonymous Acephale)/The Naked Eye 
(X-ray mankiewicz) and the Radio Ghost (Robert 
Desnos).  Pawns:  Commissioner Petiot, Kamp 
Summerland, The Survival Artist (Sidney 
greenbaum), Nurse Corday, Belmondo (in bandages), 
Fandor, anonymous gendarme.  anonymous judge./ 
Gala, the Equestrian (Leonora carrington), the 
Dollhouse (Dorothea Tanning), The Aquanaut (Yves 
Tanguy), the Armageddonist (Kay Sage), The 
Chauffeur (Rene Crevel), The Pygmalist (Hans 
Bellmer).  The Great Masturbator (Avida Dollars). 
I don't know much about chess.  It would be nice 
if the state of play reflected the current state 
of the plot, but we needn't get so fruity.  Maybe 
the game hasn't even started yet.
Caption
THERE'S A PLACE BEHIND MY EYES WHERE THE 
MOMENTS SWELL TO ENCOMPASS WHOLE EVENINGS, 
WHERE A MAN CAN BE EVERYTHING HE ISN'T.  ALL 
THE WAY INSIDE MYSELF, I COME TO KNOW THE 
OTHER. 

OTHERMAN
THE RAINBOW BOMBS ARE IN PLACE, I TAKE IT. 

Panel 3
hovering now, before him, on the other side of the 
chessboard, we see the Alchemist (Marcel Duchamp 
at his most dashing) and Rrose Selavy (his 
willowy, enigmatic consort), dressed like a widow 
with a veiled face and a black dress.  The clever 
kids will know that it's Duchamp in drag, but I 
think that Duchamp was probably exquisite when 
wrapped up in sultry silkiness.  Without parting 
the veil, you'd mistake Rrose for the epitome of 
feminine elegance. 

THE ALCHEMIST: 
THE ENGINES OF TRANSMUTATION ARE BURNING BLUE. 

RROSE SELAVY: 
AND YOU, VACHE?  ARE YOU PREPARED? 

THE ALCHEMIST: 
FOR YOUR TRANSLATION? 

RROSE SELAVY: 
INTO ABSOLUTE OTHERNESS? 

NURSE CORDAY (OFF-PANEL): 
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Panel 4
Our view of Otherman meditating in his prayer 
chair has careened through these panels to settle 
here, as an upside down view of Otherman 
meditating.  The elevator has reached the top 
floor.  Des Esseintes exiting the elevator, with 
nurse corday dragged in by the hair and a gun in 
his other hand, already trained on Otherman.
Caption
IT'S TIME, NOW, BUT I WANTED TO SAY "YES".  I'M 
READY TO ABANDON THIS BOLUS OF DENSE AND 
FILTHY  FEVER-DREAMS. TO GET A BETTER GRIP AS I 
VIOLENTLY UNMAKE IT. 

Caption
JACQUES VACHE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE SOMEONE. 
TONIGHT, I NEED TO BE NO-ONE

DES ESSEINTES: 
OTHERMAN!  THE JIG IS UP!  CONSIDER YOURSELF 
UNPUZZLED BY MY LOVELY JUSTICE!  

Page 21 
Panel 1
Des Esseintes waking up Otherman (who doesn't 
fully flinch), casting the hysterical nurse to the 
floor, gun trained on the enemy. 

DES ESEINTES: 
IS THIS THE MAN YOU DESCRIBED?  IS IT?  IS IT? 

NURSE CORDAY (SOBBING): 
YEEES.  YES. 

Panel 2
Otherman rises slowly and stretches.  His halo is 
burning brightly. 

OTHERMAN
NO NEED FOR CLICHE POLICE BRUTALITY, CHIEF 
INSPECTOR.  I'M GOING QUIETLY.  WITH YOU. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
DAMN RIGHT YOU ARE, YOU BLOODY LUNATIC. 

Panel 3
Otherman bowing slightly before Des Esseintes in 
an attitude of subdued supplication. 

OTHERMAN
BEFORE YOU TAKE ME IN, I SUGGEST WE SIT FOR A 
MOMENT LIKE GENTLEMEN, LIKE RIVAL SAMURAI.I 
FEEL LIKE I KNOW YOU...BUT YOU MUST HAVE 
QUESTIONS, QUESTIONS NO OTHER INTERROGATOR WILL 
BE CLEVER ENOUGH TO ASK. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
WHILE YOU HYPNOTIZE ME IN THIS MIASMA OF 
NARCOTIC FUMES. 

Panel 4
Otherman gestures towards a plush red velvet 
armchair and offers Des Esseintes some tea as he 
pours it. 

OTHERMAN
PLEASE, CHIEF INSPECTOR.  YOU'RE A MAN OF THE 
WORLD.  SURELY YOU'RE NO STRANGER TO NARCOTIC 
FUMES.  OUR DUEL HAS ENRICHED ME.  SAVOR YOUR 
VICTORY BEFORE THE VULTURES COME. 

OTHERMAN
THIS TEA WILL SMASH YOUR PARADIGMS. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
HMMMM.  

Panel 5
Des Esseintes removes his hat, sees Otherman 
sipping at the tea, accepts the offer.  He still 
has his gun on Otherman

DES ESSEINTES: 
VERY WELL.  YOU'VE CERTAINLY INJECTED SOME 
THORNY ENIGMAS INTO MY CASEBOOK.  I WANT SOME 
COHERENT INFORMATION BEFORE THE GERMANS HAVE 
THEIR WAY WITH YOU. 

OTHERMAN
OF COURSE. 

Panel 6
They sit, sipping tea and talking like gentlemen, 
not so much mortal enemies as sparring partners, 
reflecting in the afterglow of a glorious game. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
DRUGS, HYPNOSIS, MASS HYSTERIA, AND STAGE MAGIC 
CANNOT ACCOUNT FOR YOUR CRIMES.  I'M A 
REASONABLE MAN.  REASON CAN'T ACCOUNT FOR WHAT 
YOU DO. 

DES ESSEINTES: 
SO, "OTHERMAN", WHAT IS IT THAT YOU DO, 
EXACTLY? 

DES ESSEINTES: 
AND HOW EXACTLY DO YOU DO IT? 

Panel 7
Des Esseintes, fresh from a sip, looking on in 
shock.  Angle on Otherman as he coldly discloses 
the contents of his hot herbal mixture. 

OTHERMAN
GOOD QUESTION.  WE'LL BOTH BE DEAD IN A 
MOMENT.  THEN ALL WILL BE REVEALED.

DES ESSEINTES: 
MERDE. 

OTHERMAN
TRY FOR SOME GRAVITAS, YOU OLD GHOUL. 

Panel 8
Otherman and Des Esseintes, dead in their chairs, 
china in disarray.  Little puddles on the floor. 
the Chief Inspector's hat is on the floor. 
Otherman's halo has been extinguished.  His head 
is faintly smoking.  Nurse Corday heaving and 
sobbing on the floor.
Caption
FINAL ENIGMA.  FIRST MOVE.  THE GAME IS PLAYING 
ITSELF. 

Page 22 
Panel 1
Foyer of the asylum, like the lobby of the 
oriflamme on page nine.  Cop chaos.  Doctor in a 
body bag.  Acephale is directing things.  He's as 
reserved, calculating, and clinical as Des 
Esseintes is extravagant, decadent, and violent. 
He looks like a young George Bataille.  Cruel blue 
eyes, one of them a little bit lazy.  An expensive 
conservative suit.  X-Ray is entering the room, 
escorted by the same gendarmes who fetched him 
last night.  They're carrying his camera 
equipment. 

ACEPHALE: 
MANKIEWICZ.  WHAT AN UNATTRACTIVE WOUND. 
ANOTHER SPAT WITH YOUR YOUNG LADYFRIEND? 

X-RAY: 
YES.  THEN SHE WENT TO A PARTY. I SHOULDN'T 
HAVE GIVEN YOU HER PICTURE. 

Panel 2
X-Ray has the scratch of Melinda Lee's fingernails 
on his face.  He seems to be in a state of 
alcoholic shock, interrogating everything he sees 
with his eyes, wondering if he's wandering in a 
nightmare.  Wearing the same suit he was wearing 
yesterday.  A little blood on the collar, maybe. 
he's explaining recent history to Acephale, who's 
scribbling in a little moleskine. 

ACEPHALE: 
BITE YOUR TONGUE, MANKIEWICZ.  THAT PICTURE HAS 
LED US TO THE END OF OTHERMAN

X-RAY: 
FUNNY.  I'VE DREAMED ABOUT HIM.  I DIDN'T THINK 
YOU'D EVER FIND HIM IN THE FLESH.  I DIDN'T
THINK HE WAS REAL. 

MUSIDORA (OFF-PANEL): 
ACEPHALE! 

Panel 3
Musidora DeSade and Siegfried Schadenfreude, 
strutting in like they own the place. She's in 
another one of those strange gothic dresses that 
covers her limbs.  Schadenfreude in a get-up that 
looks vaguely military, gestapo-style.  X-Ray's 
shocked reaction to the grand entrance in panel 
4.  Acephale is not shocked, but he's putting on 
an even colder business face. 

MUSIDORA: 
NO PICTURES!  SEND YOUR JEW BACK TO HIS GHETTO. 

SCHADENFREUDE: 
RIGHT YOU ARE, MY JAGGED SNOWFLAKE.  WE WILL 
NOT HAVE THE RITUAL SPLENDOR OF THIS EVENT 
SULLIED BY THE ENERGIES OF DEGENERATE 
PAPARAZZI. 

Panel 4
Mankiewicz snapping out of his lovelorn autism, 
ready to smack this old German and his demented 
little girl.  Acephale discreetly but firmly holds 
him back and addresses the Germans with 
authoritative blankness. 

ACEPHALE: 
WE INSIST ON DOCUMENTATION AT EVERY STAGE OF 
OUR INVESTIGATIONS.  MUST I REMIND YOU THAT 
WHATEVER PACTS YOU MAY HAVE STRUCK WITH 
COMMISSIONER PETIOT, YOU ARE GUESTS OF OUR 
DEPARTMENT? 

ACEPHALE: 
YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY. 

MUSIDORA: 
WHATEVER.  AS LONG AS I GET TO KILL THE 
OTHERBITCH. 

ACEPHALE: 
MADAMOISELLE DESADE, IT PAINS ME TO DISAPPOINT 
YOU.  BUT FATE HAS ABSOLVED YOU OF THAT 
PRIVILEGE. 

Panel 5
Lair of Otherman, in the aftermath of the final 
enigma.  Nurse Corday still sobbing on the floor. 
the colorful corpses.  The party of four has been 
here for a few minutes.  Acephale is annoyed. 
x-ray is bullied and bewildered, putting his 
camera together.  Schadenfreude has a furrowed
brow, as if anticipating a coming storm.  Musidora 
is shocked and outraged. she's pulled his mask 
off. 

MUSIDORA: 
DOUBLE SUICIDE?! MY MORTAL ENEMY AND YOUR CHIEF 
INSPECTOR?!  THIS...CAN'T...HAPPEN! 

ACEPHALE: 
 THE CHIEF INSPECTOR'S "FLAIR FOR THE 
THEATRICAL" HAS DISABLED MANY AN INVESTIGATION.

Panel 6
Dead Otherman in the foreground.  In the 
background, Musidora gesticulating on the brink of 
a catastrophic tantrum.  X-Ray is lighting a 
cigarette, pretending he's someplace else. 

MUSIDORA: 
WHO GIVES AN IRON FUCK ABOUT A DEAD POLICEMAN? 
I HAVE BEEN DENIED...MY...REVENGE! 

Page 23 
Panel 1
Widescreen shot of the sanctum.  Bloodshot window 
facing us.  In the background, Musidora clutching 
at Otherman's corpse by the lapels, it limbs and 
head limp as she manhandles him.  In the middle 
ground, Acephale scribbling in his moleskine and 
X-Ray smoking, looking on.  In the foreground, on 
the left, close on Schadenfreude making a 
telephone call, looking grave. 

MUSIDORA: 
THIS MEATBAG KILLED MY FATHER AND BROKE ME LIKE 
A DOLL! 

SCHADENFREUDE: 
THE VICHY HOTEL, PLEASE.  THE UBU ROI SUITE. 

Panel 2
In the Ubu Roi suite of the Vichy hotel, Kid 
Blitzkrieg has picked up the phone.  He's about 
sixteen, with pale blonde hair.  "Village of the 
Damned" meets the Von Trapp family.  He's staring 
into space with icy intensity, wearing a 
wifebeater t-shirt.  He has the musculature of a 
ballet dancer.  With his right hand he's holding 
the phone.  With his left hand he's clutching a 
dumbell and pumping it. 

KID BLITZKRIEG: 
PROFESSOR SCHADENFREUDE?  YES IT'S BLITZKRIEG. 
IS IT DONE? 

SCHADENFREUDE (OVER THE PHONE):
YES, BUT NOT AS WE EXPECTED.  SHE'LL BE 
DIFFICULT THIS EVENING. WE PROCEED AS PLANNED 
AT THE CRACK OF DAWN.
Panel 3
Kid Blitzkrieg is hanging up the phone with a wide 
grin, full of boyish excitement, tiny licks and 
crackles of electricity bursting here and there on 
the surface of his skin.  The dumbell is getting 
charged like a makeshift lightning rod. He's 
looking over his left shoulder at  Max Zarathustra 
(see panel 4). 

KID BLITZKRIEG: 
UNDERSTOOD.  GUTEN ABEND.  ETERNAL VIGILANCE. 

SCHADENFREUDE (OVER THE PHONE): 
ETERNAL VIGILANCE. 

KID BLITZKRIEG: 
OTHERMAN KILLS THE LOCAL TALENT.  THE FERAL 
FRAULEIN KILLS OTHERMAN.  PARIS IS IN TURMOIL. 

MAX ZARATHUSTRA (OFF-PANEL): 
TURMOIL IS RESOLVED THROUGH DISCIPLINE. 

Panel 4
Big vertical panel with Kid Blitzkrieg in the 
lower left foreground, looking over his left 
shoulder at Max Zarathustra, a musclebound bastion 
of teutonic manhood who looks the way Adolf Hitler 
pictured himself when he masturbated.  In his 
mid-twenties.  Rippling muscles.  No shirt.  A 
large tattoo on his chest.  A swastika embedded in 
a five-pointed star.  Military pants.  Gnashing 
his teeth.  Pumping iron.  A massive barbell, 
possessed by lightning.  A one-man lightning storm 
in a French hotel room, pumping iron and tripping 
on pure energy.  There may be evidence of powdery 
drug use (krystalnacht, an experimental 
gene-warping amphetamine).  They haven't slept in 
weeks. 

KID BLITZKRIEG: 
DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS, MEIN FUEHRER? 

MAX ZARATHUSTRA: 
JA, KID BLITZKRIEG. 

MAX ZARATHUSTRA: 
TOMORROW BELONGS TO US. 

Page 24 
Panel 1
A widescreen medium shot of the front steps of the 
Lautreamont Asylum.  The police have cordoned off
the hospital itself.  The bloodshot window is 
visible, strange silhouettes cast by the 
candlelight. Various gendarmes are talking to 
nurses, doctors, and concerned citizens.  Gendarme 
3 and gendarme 4 are talking to each other in the 
foreground, to the right.
GENDARME 1: 
YES, MESSIEUR.  THE SHOOTING.  AN UNFORTUNATE 
ACCIDENT.  THE CHIEF INSPECTOR CUSTOMARILY 
SENDS A VERY GENEROUS BOUQUET OF LILIES TO THE 
FUNERAL IN QUESTION. 

GENDARME 2: 
NO, MADAME.  WE'RE NOT ALLOWED TO DISCUSS THE 
CASE.  BETWEEN YOU AND ME, IT SEEMS THIS 
"JACQUES VACHE" FELLOW IN THE SPECIAL WARD WAS 
OTHERMAN HIMSELF. 

GENDARME 3: 
WE COULD STILL BE HERE TOMORROW.  WHAT ARE THEY 
DOING UP THERE? 

GENDARME 4: 
INTERROGATION, OR SOMETHING TO THAT EFFECT. 
THEY WON'T EVEN LET THE FORENSICS TEAM IN. 
MUST BE SOMETHING NASTY. 

Panel 2
A widescreen shot of Musidora holding her arms 
aloft like a surgeon awaiting her instruments. 
Schadenfreude has removed her gloves, exposing 
puppet girl prosthetic arms with gaps in their 
plastic, exposing clockwork machineries and jacks 
in which to plug various appliances. 
Schadenfreude has opened his attache case full of 
accessories for his young ward.  Little buzz-saws 
and serrated steel insect legs and various 
flesh-slicing implements.  She's acting like a 
princess being decked out in the crown jewels 
before a fancy ball. 

MUSIDORA: 
SEE HOW MY NEW FRIENDS HAVE FILIGREED THE HOLES 
YOU MADE IN ME, JACQUES?  SEE THE KNIVES I GREW 
SO I COULD CUT YOU? 

MUSIDORA: 
HOW DARE YOU HANG A PICTURE OF THE GIRL YOU 
MUTILATED AND LEFT FOR DEAD! 

MUSIDORA: 
HAVE YOUR JEW TAKE HIS PICTURES, ACEPHALE.  I 
WILL HANG THEM IN MY FATHER'S CRYPT. 

Panel 3
A shot with Acephale and X-Ray in the left 
foreground, by the camera, their backs half turned 
to us, conspiring, X-Ray getting ready to take 
another picture.  In the background, extending to 
the right, Musidora is using her prostheses to 
slash the corpse of Otherman to pieces. 
Schadenfreude looks proudly on in the farthest 
background, mopping blood from his face with a 
lovely swastika-print handkerchief. 

ACEPHALE: 
You've taken photos of his face already? 

X-RAY: 
A couple. 

ACEPHALE: 
This pictorial.  One set for her.  Three for 
me. 

X-RAY: 
You know my rates.  So that's one set for 
evience...one set for extortion...and one set 
for... 

Panel 4
Shot of x-ray at the camera bit looking at the 
grisly spectacle, facing us.  acephale behind 
him.  The candlelight casting mad shadows on the 
wall.  They may be faintly splattered with blood. 
X-Ray looks terrified.  Acephale looks frigidly 
titillated. 

ACEPHALE: 
...personal use. 

X-RAY: 
Who are these people, Acephale? 

ACEPHALE: 
The Future. 

X-RAY: 
Some future.  When did the world get so crooked 
and strange?  Was it the War? 

Page 25 
Panel 1
Long vertical panel on the right hand side of the 
page.  Musidora DeSade a fourteen year old girl 
with prosthetic limbs in the blizzarding uts of a 
body she's slashing to scarlet ribbons.  The 
daguerrotype of her Victorian self might be 
visible on the wall behind her.
MUSIDORA: 
THE LIBERTINE IS AVENGED! 

MUSIDORA: 
PARIS IS MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE! 

X-RAY (OFF-PANEL): 
Is the whole world a blood-soaked madhouse? 

X-RAY (OFF-PANEL): 
And is it the kind we wake up from? 

Panel 2
The first of three screen-shaped panels runing 
down the center of the page.  In the right 
foreground, silhouetted head and shoulders of 
Desnos with his back to us.  In the background, a 
boundless collage of Otherman-based surrealist 
art. 

DESNOS (ON THE RADIO): 
IN MY DREAM, YOUR HUMBLE RADIO GHOST WAS AT ONE 
OF THOSE PARTIES YOU ONLY FIND IN DREAMS, WHERE 
KINDRED SPIRITS SPLICE WITH YOUR OWN AND BLOW 
BUBBLES OF LOVE AND ANARCHY. 

Panel 3
Screen-shaped panel.  Silhouetted head and 
shoulders of desnos with his back to us, towards 
the left.  In the background, the movie screen at 
the Orakuloid exhibition.  X-Ray's pre-mutilation 
close-up of Jacques Vache, like the shot of 
Otherman getting his eye sliced but all alone and 
without the mask.  And the film is burning in the 
projector.  The image is chewing itself into white 
darkness. 

DESNOS (ON THE RADIO): 
THE FILMS WE WATCHED WERE PERFECT MIRRORS, LIKE 
THE PAINTINGS AND THE FACES AND THE STRANGENESS 
AND CHARM OF IT ALL.  BUT SOMETHING BREAKS IN 
US WHEN MIRRORS CATCH FIRE. 

Panel 4
Screen-shaped panel.  Desnos at the center, facing 
us, head and shoulders, in the glow of the 
suddenly stark white screen.  Behind him, at 
various distances, are Charcot and Melinda and 
Dollars and Ernst and Gala, all wearing masks, all 
with their eyes closed, all with cartoon halos 
flickering faintly to life. 

DESNOS (ON THE RADIO): 
SOMETHING BREAKS FREE AND FILLS US AND WE SENSE 
IN SILKY UNISON A GREAT DISTURBANCE IN THE 
OTHER.  WE THOUGHT WE KNEW WHAT OTHERNESS WAS. 

Panel 5
A long vertical panel, replicating the Paris 
cityscape in panel one, page one, but a spectral 
Otherman is standing over it where the sky should 
be, like the archetypal "Fantomas" cover, but more 
menacing, insane, and sardonically triumphant. 

DESNOS (ON THE RADIO): 
A CONCEPT SLOUGHED ITS BODY LAST NIGHT. 

DESNOS (ON THE RADIO): 
WE KNEW BEFORE DAWN, BEFORE THE PAPERS DID. 

DESNOS (ON THE RADIO): 
OTHERMAN, SAY WHAT YOU WILL, WAS OTHER THAN 
MAN.  HE WAS A WAY OF SEEING, AND IN THAT WAY, 
HE WILL SEE US STILL. 

Caption
YES.  I WILL.  I DO. 

Caption
IN YOUR DREAMS. 

Caption TO BE CONTINUED.

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