WITNESS: "-- and it was like a -- like a wind or like a -- like a ghost -- but dark -- and I saw its eyes -- shinin' white eyes --"

A long street of identical brownstone houses, one of which has been reduced to rubble. A gaggle of reporters and photographers mills around in the vague hope of something happening, but without much enthusiasm. One reporter is interviewing an excitable middle-aged man as they move through the rubble.

CLOSE ON PERCIVAL GRAVES as he walks toward the destroyed building.

REPORTER (expressionless -- notebook in his hand): "-- a dark wind -- with eyes…"

WITNESS: "-- like a dark mass, and it dove down there, down underground -- I swear to God… into the earth right in front of me."

Graves: Smart clothing, very handsome, early middle-age, his demeanor differs from those around him. He is watchful, tightly coiled, an air of intense confidence.

EXT. STREET NEAR CITY HALL SUBWAY -- DUSK

PHOTOGRAPHER (sotto voce): "Hey -- did you get anything?"

REPORTER (sotto voce): "Dark wind, blah blah."

Graves moves up the steps of the now ruined building. He examines the destruction, curious, alert.

PHOTOGRAPHER: "It's some atmospheric hooey. Or electrical."

REPORTER: "Hey -- you thirsty?"

PHOTOGRAPHER: "Nah, I'm on the wagon. Promised Martha I'd lay off."

Wind begins to pick up, swirling around the building, accompanied by a high-pitched screeching. Graves alone looks interested.

A sudden series of bangs at street level. All turn to look for the source of the sound: A wall cracks, the rubble on the floor begins to shake before exploding like an earthquake, ripping out of the building and down through the middle of the street. The movement is violent, rushed -- people and cars go flying.

The mysterious force then flies up into the air, swirling through the city, diving in and out of alleyways, before crashing down into a subway station.

A mingled roar and howl emanates from the bowels of the earth.

CLOSE ON GRAVES as he examines the destruction of the street.