Work Text:
Flashback
Chainsaw Man Rewrite Scene 1
Makima Stands before the leadership of the Public Safety Devil Hunters
Leader 1: “Your performance has been exemplary, Makima.”
Makima stands silent with a blank face. She looks refined, in control, but dispassionate. Its difficult for an observer to tell, but underneath shes exhausted, not to mention generally uninterested in these people. Notably, her eyes are human at this point.
Leader 2: “As discussed, the Kidnapping Devil incident has more than proven your ability to work with... limited resources.”
Leader 4: “How you managed to effectively employ [REDACTED] is beyond me.”
At this, Makima smiles slightly, though she doesn't make a move to speak.
Leader 1: “Given that, we turn things over to you, Makima. You've more than earned our trust in you as a division leader. What do you need from the Public Safety Devil Hunters to continue your work?”
Makima's face is neutral as she answers. Her reply is clearly premeditated. It's crisp, rehearsed, but lacks some of the domination and control she displays in the main series.
Makima: “I would like a copy of the information of every new recruit sent to me to look over before they're assigned through traditional channels. Along with the information for any hunters about to be let go and any assets about to be neutralized.
“If they agree to join my task force, I want you to allow that. I'll take over responsibility for them from then on.”
Makima lets the request sit for a second, and quickly reads the room. To her, the leadership seems amenable. Her work with [REDACTED] must have earned her more respect than she had counted on with them. Once they seemed settled, but before any of them could say anything, she continued.
Makima: “And I need a new Contract. The Hound Devil simply isn't enough for me to operate effectively at this point.”
This was likely the request they had expected when this meeting was planned. Adding it this way meant both requests went over easier. The Leadership murmurs among themselves. Its clear this is a technicality more than anything, as no one seems to voice any dissent.
Leader 1: “That is all... more than reasonable. You have permission to access any of the Department's contained Devils, or use what connections we have with other entities for the purpose of forming Contracts. Because we've talked in person, we'll waive the initial paperwork for one, just inform records once you've decided. Let us know if you need multiple.
“And those files will be sent to your office weekly.”
Makima smiles and nods. The smile is on the surface polite and professional, but it also reflects a real excitement. Makima is never one to doubt her own plans, but this represents a significant step forward for her.
Leader 3: “We can also supply information on all contractable Devils within your clearance for you to review. We have records of the nature of past contracts, although there is of course no-”
Makima raises her hand to interrupt him, smile undisturbed. She waits for him to stop talking before she begins
Makima: “No need. I would like to visit class I Devil containment later today. I assume I will need a chaperone?”
The room goes still. The meeting was effectively over, but this halts everyone in their preparations to leave. The whole Leadership and Makima look to one man, presumably the member of this board who works closest with these issues.
Shot/Reverse Shot between Him, shadowed but more detailed than any of the leadership have been presented thus far, and then of Makima, directly facing the reader. The man doesn't make direct eye contact, while Makima is staring straight forward, eyes spaced so they would likely be focused on the reader, half a meter past the page.
Second panel of Makima, mostly unchanged save some minor movement. Shes smiling, a look that exudes clearly false innocence. Its not flirty/seductive/dominating as some or her similar smiles, but it still establishes some authority in the moment.
Leader 3: “O-of course, that can be arranged. With 1500 hours work?”
Makima: “Absolutely”
Makima continues to smile and tilts her head, subtly gloating at her victory. After a long moment of silence, another voice finally speaks up
Leader 1: “I believe that is everything, Makima. We look forward to watching your career progress from here.”
Makima: “Thank you”
Image of Makima's front from chest to knee as she leaves, the leadership sat behind her watching. An empty dog leash hangs from her belt, though attention hasn't been drawn to it until now. In the panel it hangs directly above Leader 1, invoking the image both of him leashed, but also a noose, or the Sword of Damocles.
Time Jump
Makima leaves her office in the Public Safety headquarters. The office she's leaving behind is small, cramped, and filled to bursting with papers, books, and files. On the wall hangs a cork board, looking just shy of conspiracy theorist, a mirror, a small, shaded window, and a plethora of taped up papers and post it notes.
In the room sits a chair, angled towards the door, with Makima's trench-coat draped across the back haphazardly.
A woman waits for Makima in the hallway, one of the council members present in the previous scene. The woman is in her mid 40s, well put together and standing stock straight to emanate an air of authority. As Makima and the woman make eye contact, its clear the two know each other well and are amicable, though there is a slight professional distance
Makima: “You're my chaperone, I take it?”
Woman: “Guilty. C'mon, lets go, I'm off the clock once we're done with this.”
The scene progresses as they walk down stark, bureaucratic hallways. The two are chatting as they walk, although the conversation is largely insignificant.
At the start, the hallways are busy with people, largely relaxed and chatting with each other. On the walls are a variety of stock workplace decorations: posters, notice boards, announcements, etc. Slowly though, the hallways become more and more utilitarian, with the people present more and more focused in whatever work it is they're busying themselves with. Some are delivering papers back and forth while others are deep in focus on projects. Its ambiguous weather, as they walk, Makima and the woman are going down, or into the headquarters.
Eventually, the walls are bare and there are no people moving about, only hints of life behind the doors to offices.
Woman: sigh “You know you aren't supposed to know anything about the class i Devils we have locked up.”
Makima: “You're still taking me to see them though.”
This is a statement, not a question. Its an attempt by Makima to establish authority in this moment, and goes unnoticed by the woman who takes it in stride.
Woman: “The sections not off limits to your clearance. We couldn't keep determined people out with the budget we're working with even if we tried. But the information on whats down there sure as hell is. As far as regulations are concerned, you're going into these cells blind.
Makima is silent, tight lipped. She doesn't like how the woman is still leaning on innuendo.
Woman: “But you aren't, are you. I know you aren't stupid enough to stumble into one of these rooms blindly. And we don't exactly have a name and list of fun facts posted on each door down here.
Woman: “Shit, I don't think I've even seen a full list in one place for the i classes. The records department here is one of the only departments with decent security, and the sense to keep to themselves.”
A moment of silence between them. Makima's face is neutral, she's resistant to explicitly admitting anything to this woman, despite their relationship.
Woman: “So. Whats the plan, Makima? Pick a cell at random and waltz in? Roll a die and pick an ideological class devil to sell your soul to?”
Makima: “Does that seem like something I would do?”
The subtext is obvious, but the tone is innocent, not cold or bitter. There is a genuine hint of curiosity that constantly digs at Makima, a need to know how others perceive her.
Woman: “Honestly? It seems like exactly the kind of self aggrandizing move you'd pull just to prove you could.”
Makima smiles slightly.
Makima: “If I did, it would work.”
Makima beams a smile as the woman sighs, face trying to portray resignation, but hinting at worry or fear.
Woman: “I have a feeling it would.”
Makima: “The Department doesn't have the power, or more accurately the funding, to redact all historical records relating to these devils. Cross referencing those with what documents I do have access to, made it possible to... reconstruct a narrative.”
Woman: sigh
Woman: “You're scary when you put your mind to something, you know that?”
Makima seems to earnestly digest this observation
Makima: “I don't mean to be, y'know. I don't particularly try and make people scared of me.
Woman: “Then, what's the vibe you are going for?”
Makima doesn't skip a beat
Makima: “Sacred”
The woman stares at her. If it was anyone else that said such a thing with a straight face it would fall flat. But with Makima....
The two have clearly moved to a basement by this point, a far cry from the beige bureaucracy of the halls above the ground
The two stop abruptly. The woman stands in front of Makima, between her a staircase that leads further down into the earth
Woman: “Look. Makima.”
A profile view of the pair. Between them is a heavy door bolted from the outside. Its clear that something inside wants out.
Woman: “There aren't many people that can say that they've been in the Bureau for a 'long time.' I'm one of those few people. So listen to me, please.”
Makima tilts her head with a neutral expression. She is receptive, but enigmatic.
Woman: “I've seen this happen before. Many, many times. An up and coming hunter becomes a minor hero in their own little corner of their department. They've done so much, set themselves apart. But to people like that, there's always another league to climb. So you feel like you need to do something dramatic.”
Woman: “I don't get it, I don't know why. Maybe you're all cocky, young hot-shots or whatever. Maybe you're scared or ambitious or whatever.”
Woman: “You go, make a deal with some big, scary Devil. Gain unfathomable power. It always blows up in their face.
Makima walks forward. The woman shifts out of her way, then begins to follow behind her as she walks down the stairs.
Woman: “It's not just them. Whole squads. Families. Hell, I've watched whole towns get eaten by a bad contract.
They continue to walk down the notably gray hallway. Each door they pass is unique and clearly characterized by the devil contained by it. The hall subtly twists, warps, and extends in noneuclidian ways as the two walk down it.
The woman begrudgingly drops the point, and the two walk side by side. There are no other humans down here.
Makima: “I knew before I ever joined this organization you know.”
The woman starts in surprise at Makima starting the conversation.
Makima: “I'm sure all manner of hunters are that way. Come in with a plan to save the world. I do wonder. Between ambition and revenge, how many Hunters is it who have one single devil in mind when they sign up?
Woman: “So. All... This? This whole job is because the Bureau has a devil you want to talk to locked up down here?”
Makima and the woman reach a set of double doors closing off the rest of the hallway. The doors are latched with a standard keyhole on the doorhandle.
The woman holds out in her hand a low security key.
Makima laughs in response, though clear and without malice
Makima: “That lock wouldn't keep out a Rust Devil. Or a 10 year old with a paperclip for that mater.”
Woman: “Most of the security this far down is more esoteric. There isn't any physical wall we could build to keep these things still.”
Makima tilts her head in a gesture towards the door. The question is obvious.
Woman: “This door is just a reminder for us. Not to go down there without good reason.
She unlocks the door and pulls it open. Makima steps through, and she follows.
The hallway beyond is oppressively normal. Each door is evenly spaced, not far from each other, and labeled with a stark metal number beside it. All in the single digits or low teens. A few posters and documents are posted to the walls, with the phrase I-Class visible on several.
Makima seems notably more attentive here in this space, analyzing each door as she passes.
Woman: “So many of the contracts made in these rooms ended in disaster. To my knowledge, all of them. So come on Makima. Why you? What makes you different from all the kids I've watched die that way.
Makima finally stops in front of one of the doors and looks back at the woman. She subtly quirks her head and smiles.
Makima: “I'm good at delegation.”
The woman realized the door Makima stands in front of and starts.
Woman: “Makima, no. You can't. You must know, you have to know.”
Makima turns her shoulders a quarter and looks back at her. There isn't a hint of warmth in her eyes.
Woman: “If I can't stop you, promise me you'll be careful.”
Makima: “No.”
Its crystallized now that the entire dynamic has flipped. Makima firmly places herself, if unofficially, as this woman's superior.
Makima: “You don't have your tie, do you?”
Makima looks down at the woman's neckline where, indeed, she is missing her tie, a notable casual violation of the dress code. There seems to be a touch of regret and pity in Makima's voice and eyes.
ENTER THE ROOM
A web of saturated strands of color, reminiscent of a spider.
An Hourglass slowly pours
As Makima walks, the ground is endless coils of black chains, then cold brutalist concrete, then a polished brass mirror.
An ambiguous form sits at a piano, facing away from the door. It plays a soft but intricate melody, seemingly enraptured in its work.
Makima stops in the middle of this room that seems to extend infinitely in every direction. The woman trails several steps behind, looking insignificant against the shifting background.
Elements of space, web-like and subtle, seem to bee drawn to the small figure of the woman, as if winding around and binding her. Makima, though, seems unaffected. Her stark white shirt and pink hair set her in contrast to the shifting color, placing her above it.
The figure stops playing as Makima draws to a halt. It bizarrely un-knits and reconstitutes having turned 180 degrees to face Makima, and then stands.
The Devil seems human in shape at first, though notably larger. However, as it moves, wings peel themselves off from the silhouette. This reveals that the stomach and chest are severely emaciated. It wears on its head a laurel made from severed hands grasping each-other. Above its head float 7 crowns, and from its spine sprout 7 pairs of wings.
Its face seems stitched onto the front of its head, far to perfectly a simulacrum of a human face. Its eyes are closed even as it seems to look at Makima, and its mouth is set in a slight, gentle smile.
Makima stands stoic as this devil towers over her, about 5 meters away.
It opens its eyes.
In it is Makima's signature concentric circles, a feature she has notably been lacking until now. Hypnotic and alluring. This pattern begins to cover everything, the background, floor, and shadows. Only the three figures remain.
The circles ring Makima and the Devil, highlighting the other woman's insignificance.
? Devil: “Another? I thought they had resolved to stop sending me these pets.”
Makima thinks to herself, somehow calm and prepared.
Makima: “I think they did, if you're referring to the board of the Devil Hunting Corps.
? Devil: “And yet, you're here.”
Makima: “I insisted.”
? Devil: “For me? I'm honored. Are you perhaps here to make a contract.”
In the background the other woman seems to open her mouth to object, but something leaves her too weak. Makima ignores this and steps forward, looking upwards into the devil's face.
Makima: “Yes, I am, Control Devil.”
Control Devil: “Very well.”
Control Devil: “The Corps bound me here with a contract of my own. I will hear your request. But I will name no terms of my own. That, I leave to you. And should I find the terms you give unsatisfactory, there is nothing in my vows that keeps me from draining your blood and adding your corpse to my collection of puppets.”
Control Devil: “You can chose to leave now, with your life mostly intact. Your toll of entry has already been taken.”
It is revealed that Makima's eyes are dull and unseeing, rendered blind from the moment the door opened.
Control Devil: But, if you wish to as power of me, do as you will. I am the Control Devil. Mother of the Puppeteer and Spider, The hand that feeds and the the hand that holds the leash. I am she who leads, she who owns, and she who discards. All things bellow me are mine, and that which I don't have I take. So speak, MAKIMA
Makima, despite her blindness, stares directly at the devil. Her expression is thoughtful, but unbothered.
Makima: “I understand. I had assumed so much from my research.”
Makima: Command Devil. Your power shall become mine. As you live, I shall live, and as I do, you shall do. As long as your heart remains intact, your power will sustain me, and when I draw from you, you will give me your power in full. Your soul becomes intertwined with mine. You shall be bound by my contracts as I am, and bound by me alone. I take your everything, Control Devil.
A wide smile splits the devil's face. The woman behind looks horrified beyond the bounds of sanity. Makima and the Control Devil stand close enough that the one looks down on the other at a 45 degree angle.
Control Devil: “And in return? For all that , for all that I am? What would you give me?
Makima cocks her head, expression calm.
Makima: “You misunderstand. I don't offer a thing. You shall be bound to me. You belong to me. That is a command.
The devil begins to laugh inhumanly. Her mouth splits her face, peeling back the facade of humanity into teeth and teeth and teeth. Then, it kneels. The Control Devil bows, so that its head is level with Makima's chest, and it stares reverently at the ground.
Control Devil: “Of course. Makima, devil hunter, I become yours.
Her wings fold together to reveal dozens of hands sprouting from 7 pairs of arms. They begin intricate hand motions, natural but sharp.
Makima smiles. Truly smiles.
Control Devil: “I accept this contract.”
Makima's eyes finally take on their iconic form, ringed and dangerous.
Makima: “Before you are me, I must ask. Why take my eyes? It strikes me as arbitrary.”
Control Devil: “That? That is a gift for you. If you're wise, you'll offer your pets the same mercy.”
The devil is gone. An empty web unknits into flimsy spider's silk, and is blown away by an unfelt breeze.
Makima turns with her eyesight returned, taking in the simple, cramped concrete room that they were now in. The woman, her chaperone, lays crumpled on the ground, throwing up and shaking violently.
Makima: “Come along. I'm done here.”
The woman shakily stands and follows Makima out the plain iron doorway. She follows all the way, trailing several yards behind.
The woman is found dead that weekend, having never left her office for days. Two long needles are driven through her eyes into her brain, a clear allusion to Oedipus Rex. There are subtle signs of a sapphic sexual encounter, but nothing conclusive. Its ruled a suicide. The body is buried by the state, and Makima attends the funeral.