Panel 1. A figure in a helmet dismounts a dirt bike. He's wearing racing leathers with a yellow bolt across the back with hints of yellow about the lining of the jacket and pants. He's got a similar bowling bag hooked to the back of the bike. It's raining outside the Crossroads Bowling Alley where the remaining lit up neon letters flicker. There's a VW bug and busted up van in the parking lot nearby. In the far right background behind the building we see a small and barely noticeable (from this distance) flash of energy.
SFX: Heavy rain
Panel 2. Side shot of Max's fingerless leather gloves gripping the handle of his blue and yellow highlighted bowling bag. He's kicking open the door and walking in. In his other hand he lowers the yellow helmet to his other side, behind his legs. Waist shot showing his "balls" yellow and blue.
Panel 3. Side wide shot of sunglasses wearing, young spiky haired, cocky douchebag with a sparse goatee. We see his patch on his chest reading MAX CRASH.
Max Crash: I need some cash and I hear there's a game to be found round these parts. Y'all know nothing about that?
Panel 1. Wide shot of the empty bowling alley. Nick works the shoes and register, looking off whistling as he sprays shoes. Theresa shrugs behind the small diner counter. Empty space between them where the bar is located. It's a black windowed void with a blue neon sign flashing VICTORY beer. There's fake wood paneling on the walls. There should feel like there's something missing.
A quiet pause on this scene. We should get details in enough to keep the eye here for a three second pause. Draw the eye to Nick with the red shoes encircling him, blue neon dead center of the black windows, and Theresa stands between a rotating hotdog cooker and a pretzel warmer, a soda machine with a purple ROYAL COLA logo behind her.
Panel 2. Half length. Max Crash walks by Nick's desk where he pulls out a pair of shoes and examines them. Max has his eyebrows raised at the thin, tall, utterly lanky Nick O'Time.
Nick: We charge three bucks per game. A dollar plus for shoes.
Panel 3. Theresa leans on the counter, which would be seductive if she weren't doing it in all her tomboy innocence. Max angles his sunglasses down and looks over Theresa.
Theresa: Want a hotdog or pretzel before you pick a lane?
Panel 4. Head shot of Nick and Theresa in reversed layout with Max in the center. Theresa peers around the corner on the left, Nick extends his long neck to spy from the right. Faint glow of the obsidian glass and VICTORY neon sign reflected on his sunglasses.
Max: I think I'll have a drink.
Panel 1. The dark of the Futile Bugle Bar & Lounge is like the void of space. A few round tables and small chairs are lit up by pyramid lights off to the left. A row of booths is on the right along the wall. The red leather and paint on the tables is all there is to be seen. In the background is Max Crash standing in the doorway, propping open the door with the yellow helmet in his hand.
Panel 2. Max saunters up to the bar, resting both helmet and bowling ball bag on the bar ledge. Side shot, we see the bar extending off to the right. There should be an empty spot design-wise where a Demonic figure could be but rather it's seemingly empty.
Max: Yo, un cerveza por favor.
Panel 3. Max turns his back to the bar as he takes off his sunglasses. His eyes, now finally revealed up close should make him seem human, vulnerable. Rather than the other pages making him look strong, all the remaining pages will make him look worse and worse. A hint of a fiery form over his shoulder.
Max: Hey barkeep, where're all the hustlers and marks?
Panel 1. The Devil is working bar. Maybe just a hint of devilishness to him, looking more human the more we stare directly at him, but shifting forms when no one is looking.
The Devil: Out looking for a game then, son? A wager, a deal, a risky proposition for the glory of gain? This is what you seek?
Panel 2. Max gestures wildy to the right, on the left the Devil is a chtuloid gelatinous mass, tentacles and horror. Max is looking far off where his gesture points the way.
Max Crash: My name is Max Crash, adventurer unparalleled. I've swam the length of the Atlantic Ocean...
Panel 3. Max swings his open hand right, the devil sliding into a slithering serpent shape with small feathery and scaly wings.
Max Crash: and then just completed a marathon cross country dirt bike race...
Panel 4. Close up on Max staring down at the Devil. Pounding both fists on the bar making the helmet and bowling ball bag rumble in the shockwave.
Max: While I was on the East Coast I figured i'd grab my bowling ball and try out the Legend...Bob Awesome...challenge him to ten frames, ten pins, ten thousand dollars at stake.
The Devil: I see. How...ambitious.
Panel 1. The Devil points towards the Emergency Exit with his long black fingernailed finger. Half forming a demonic horned figure behind Max as he urges hims forward.
The Devil: Head out back, he should be out there right now taking care of something.
Panel 2. Max walks off, framed by the Emergency Exit door. A NO EXIT sign is overhead.
The Devil: You must be so proud of your skills to come here seeking Bob.
Panel 3. The Devil looks tiny and trapped within a cage but really it's just the layout if the bar. The poles holding up the glass racks alongside the rows of glass bottles make up the bar. All crystal white shine among the glass and mirror with the blob of red floating in the center, barely a man.
The Devil: A warning. Losing to Bob may cost you more than you realize.
Panel 1. Max stumbles a bit as he finds his footing on the unexpected steps out back. There's a high bright amber light above him lighting up the garbage bins, a flipped shopping cart, some concrete blocks for sitting on it would appear, and a circular patch of dirt.
Panel 2. Max stands at the edge of the circle of amber light, across from the emergency exit of the bowling alley. A dark void of a field lies behind him. It is a blackness that swallows up light. A flash of blue energy, small but powerful sparks in the dark behind Max.
Max: Stupid hickseed bowling champ needs to be shown what real bowling is all about.
Panel 3. Shot from within the field. Max is seen dissected by the reeds of overgrown grass blowing wildly in the wind. He furrows his brow as he peers into the darkness.
Max: Yo, Bob? If you're done peeing maybe we can get a game of knock em rock em in?
Panel 1. A foul, disgusting beast, with long arms flailing about tears out of the dark of the field. It's mouth is full of disgusting teeth, saliva muck dripping from it's teeth, the arc of it's wild swinging arms just slicing Max's leathers as he throws himself backwards. Max is screaming manic. Much like a little girl.
Panel 2. The beast explodes from the inside out as an intensely glowing blue ball explodes from within, spinning wildly with raw crackling energy.
Panel 3. We get a better view of the energy ball as it levitates before Max's eyes, lighting up his entire face. He is dumbstruck, in awe of its power. It's rotating and slowing down.
Panel 1. Bob Awesome walks from the woods. His whole body crackles with blue energy as the glowing ball floats back to his open palm beside him. He looks like a regular joe, a bowling shirt on, baggy jeans on, hair that looked like it was combed nice before a monster roughed him up. He eyes Max Crash suspiciously.
Bob: I thought I told everyone to stay inside. Who're you? Did you come out of the portal too?
Panel 2. Max Crash, all bugged out, sitting in a cloud of dust, tripped over the concrete blocks, right under the spotlight. The glowing ball is all he can stare at. It's in the imediate foreground, a part of the bottom right of the panel.
Max: I'm Max Crash, adventure extraordinaire...and...uhh...
Max: And I challenge you for that bowling ball of yours.
Panel 3. Bob raises up the glowing ball, which hovers just above his hand, as if he were looking down the lane at a pyramid of pins.
Bob: haha. Okay kid. When I win though...
Bob: You'll be stuck here forever.