Setting: A sparse, secure room. The air is cold. One wall is a one-way mirror. A single Nativity figurine—the baby Jesus—sits on a steel table under a harsh light.

Characters:

• LEO ZAGAMI, in a rumpled suit, gestures wildly.
• G.I. JOE, stands perfectly at ease, his expression unreadable.

[SCENE START]

LEO ZAGAMI: (Leaning forward, a feverish gleam in his eye) You want the truth? The operational truth? I’ll give it to you. It was me. All me.

(He points a trembling finger at the ceramic figurine on the table.)

ZAGAMI: The Bethlehem job. The “Weeping Infant of Palermo.” The priests thought it was a miracle. The old women crossed themselves. The Cosa Nostra… they were confused. A sign of respect? A warning from God? They didn’t know who to pay, who to fear.

G.I. JOE: (A flat, calm tone) Go on.

ZAGAMI: (Pacing now) They were looking for heavenly voices, for messages in the clouds! Amateurs! The message was in the ceramic. A focused, low-frequency, longitudinal scalar wave. Modified HAARP sequencing, routed through the local telecom tower. A pure voice-to-skull broadcast, but the statue… the statue acted as a resonant transducer. It wept with the vibrations. Anyone within fifteen feet heard the whispered Latin psalm in their teeth. “De profundis clamavi.”

G.I. JOE: (A slow, almost imperceptible nod) Out of the depths, I have cried.

ZAGAMI: Exactly! To unsettle them. To make the old gods and the new syndicates look at each other with suspicion. To prove that the stage itself could be hijacked. I bit the hand that feeds the whole puppet show.

(G.I. Joe takes one step closer. He looks from Zagami to the innocent figurine and back. A faint, grim smile touches his lips.)

G.I. JOE: Impressive, Zagami. Most impressive.

(Zagami straightens up, a flash of pride on his face. It lasts only a second.)

G.I. JOE: You understand the operational parameters. The psychological payload. The theatrical flourish.

ZAGAMI: Of course I understand! I wrote the playbook they pretend to read!

G.I. JOE: (The smile vanishes. His voice becomes colder, final.) You bit the hand that feeds. A useful trait, until the hand decides it needs no teeth.

(Zagami’s confidence falters. He glances at the one-way mirror, then back at Joe.)

ZAGAMI: What… what does that mean?

G.I. JOE: (He turns to leave, pausing at the door. He doesn’t look back.) It means the experiment is concluded. The data is recorded. The asset is… compartmentalized.

(Joe glances at the Nativity statue one last time.)

G.I. JOE: Merry Christmas, Leo.

(The heavy door clicks shut. Leo Zagami is left alone, staring at the silent, unweeping face of the ceramic child.)*

[SCENE END]