Bruce Willis

ACT UNKNOWN
EXT. SNOWY HIGHWAY OUTSIDE PITTSBURGH — DAY

The sky is a dull, oppressive gray, light snow flurries swirling in the biting wind. A desolate highway stretches out, a mere remnant of a once bustling route, now cracked and worn. The road curves around a steep, rocky incline, half-buried under snow that’s been driven up by relentless winds.

A small, battered compact car crests the hill, its yellowed headlights dim against the overcast sky. The car moves slowly, cautiously, as if unsure of its purpose on this forgotten stretch of road. The wind howls, blowing snow off the asphalt, which crunches beneath the car’s worn tires.

The car drifts into an abandoned exit lane, leading to an overpass that crosses the desolate highway. The blinker ticks hesitantly before the car pulls over and stops, engine idling softly.

INT. COMPACT CAR — CONTINUOUS

BRUCE WILLIS sits in the driver’s seat, his face gaunt, weathered by years of struggle and regret. His eyes are distant, staring straight ahead, lost in a memory that refuses to fade. He shifts the car into neutral, pulling the parking brake with a familiarity that comes without thought. His hand returns to the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as if grounding himself in this moment.

He breathes slowly, deeply, his eyes scanning the horizon. But something is missing—his purpose, his mission. He glances to his left, eyes narrowing as something catches his attention, though his body blocks it from view.

INT. LUNAR HABITATION MODULE 01 — CONTINUOUS

Suddenly, Bruce is in his astronaut suit, helmet off, face clean-shaven with a regulation military cut. He stares out of a small port hole, the vast lunar landscape stretching out before him—endless, untouched, and eerily beautiful. The mountain range in the distance casts long shadows across the stark white surface, shadows that feel like they’re swallowing the world whole.

The cold of the moon seeps into his bones, a contrast to the warmth of the car he was just in. His reflection in the port hole glass is a reminder of who he was—a man on a mission, a man with a purpose. But now, that reflection seems like a stranger.

INT. COMPACT CAR — CONTINUOUS
Back in the car, Bruce snaps back to reality, gasping as if he’s surfaced from deep water.

BRUCE
(yelling)
Hey!

He fumbles with the door handle, shoving it open with more force than necessary. He stumbles out of the car, the snow-covered asphalt treacherous beneath his feet. His boots slip, but he catches himself on the door, which slams shut with a dull thud.

EXT. SNOWY HIGHWAY OUTSIDE PITTSBURGH — CONTINUOUS

Bruce stumbles forward, waving his arms as if trying to catch someone’s attention, though the highway is desolate, abandoned.

BRUCE
(muffled, yelling)
Is there someone there?

He takes a step forward, but hesitates, his body betraying his mind’s uncertainty. His shoulders lurch forward, but he stops, standing still, arms limp at his sides. The snow swirls around him, mocking his stillness.

INT. LUNAR HABITATION MODULE 01 — CONTINUOUS

The scene shifts again—Bruce is outside the habitation module, fully suited now. The port hole window from before now frames him standing alone on the barren lunar surface. He stands still as the sunrise arcs rapidly over the horizon, casting long shadows that shift and morph with the passing days.

Behind him, a small crew of astronauts methodically builds a new world—erecting antennae, deploying solar panels, and assembling habitation modules. The landscape transforms around him, a testament to progress, but Bruce remains unmoved, locked in time.

The sun races across the sky, and with it, shadows from the structures dance across the lunar surface, creating stark lines that bisect the ground in rhythmic patterns. But inside the port hole, the light remains steady, casting a relentless glow on Bruce’s unchanging expression.

Bruce’s head turns slightly to his right, acknowledging the passage of time, the futility of his mission, but he remains silent, still.

EXT. SNOWY HIGHWAY OUTSIDE PITTSBURGH — DAY

Back on Earth, Bruce stands in the snow, mirroring his stance on the moon. He slowly turns back towards the car, his movements stiff, mechanical, like a man who’s forgotten what it means to live.

He opens the car door, sinking back into the driver’s seat. He looks around the interior, confusion flickering across his face as if he’s unsure where he is or what he’s supposed to do. He reaches for the keys, hesitating before finally turning the engine off. The silence is deafening.

Bruce stares at the mess of keys and keychains in his hand, as if they’re relics from another life. He pockets them, the weight of the past dragging him down.

Slowly, he exits the vehicle again, each movement deliberate, heavy with the burden of forgotten memories and failed missions.

EXT. SNOWY HIGHWAY OUTSIDE PITTSBURGH — DAY

Now we see Bruce Willis, weary and broken, walking across the deserted lanes of the highway, the world around him as desolate as the moon he once stood on.

His steps are slow, unsure, each one a reminder of a mission unaccomplished, a world unsaved, and a mind unraveling.

The snow continues to fall, and Bruce disappears into the white void, leaving only the faint echo of his footsteps behind.