The Universe supplies their "Chosen One" (Protagonist) with inspiration in the form of a Talentless but Morally Superior Muse. But because of their low status, the Muse gets challenged by the much higher status, but Morally Wicked Villain Antagonist.
The Universe
We are only 1/8th into this story and already your Protagonist is in trouble. They're being pulled in two different directions: their heart (Ironic Talent) and their father (King's Law & Bad Habit).
What a pickle.
Luckily for this Protagonist, they live in a Kind Comedy — and thus they are the Chosen One.
All this really means is that the Universe is rooting for them.
And in a Kind Comedy, the Universe is not just a feeling or a vague force. It's a character — or at least it behaves like one. It has an agenda. It has a point of view. And most importantly, it has a Law that directly contradicts the King's.
Where the King's Law is rooted in survival — do what you have to do to get by — the Universe's Law is rooted in morality. It doesn't care about survival. It cares about whether the Protagonist is living the right way. And it will reward them accordingly.
The Universe is not a parent to the Protagonist. Their relationship is more distant than that — more like a mentor, or a higher power. This means the Protagonist doesn't automatically trust them the way they trust the King. The Universe's advice has to be earned, tested, and eventually chosen over the King's. But at this early stage, their most immediate goal is simply to show the Protagonist that there is another way of being — one that is different from everything the King has taught them.
Example: Ratatouille
In Ratatouille the Universe is represented by the ghost of chef Gusteau. He shows up when Remy is hungry and lonely in the sewer, motivates the rat to keep going, and — crucially — tells him not to steal. Which we will later learn is another way of saying: be honest about who you are.
Example: In Bruges
In In Bruges the Universe is the city of Bruges itself, speaking through its inhabitants. Marie, the owner of the inn, is its clearest voice — but Chloe, the young woman Ray meets, is another. Both represent Bruges offering Ray a different way of being: one rooted in compassion, beauty, and forgiveness rather than Harry's rigid rules.
The morning after Ken received the obscene message from Harry — his first real conflict with his King — Marie tells Ken plainly that she thinks Harry is a cock.
From everything we know about Harry, it's safe to say nobody else has called him a cock and lived to tell the tale. But Marie does, casually, over breakfast. This is her Universe function: planting the seed in Ken's mind that there are other ways to live life than to follow Harry's Law.
Heaven's Gates
The Universe is also, ultimately, the one who decides who deserves to get into Heaven on Earth and who doesn't.
Think of the Universe as the gatekeeper. It will open the door for anyone who earns it — but only on its own terms, not the King's. This is why the Antagonist, despite sharing the Protagonist's Talent, never makes it to Heaven. The Antagonist plays by the King's rules and refuses to change. The Universe sees this and withholds its reward.
The Protagonist, on the other hand, is being given every opportunity to prove themselves. The Universe is watching. It sent them into the Strange World. It will send them a Muse. It will test them, strip them of everything, and only at the very end — when the Protagonist finally sheds their Bad Habit — will it open the gates.
In Ratatouille this is especially clear: Skinner was Gusteau's sous chef, deeply talented and deeply dishonest. Gusteau's ghost gives him nothing. Remy is a rat with no credentials and no status, but Gusteau guides him, encourages him, and ultimately rewards him — because Remy is willing to change. Not right away. But eventually.
Universe vs the King
So by the end of Sequence B, your Protagonist has encountered two opposing forces, each with their own Law:
The King's Law: Do what you have to do to survive. Lie, steal, follow orders, hide who you are — whatever it takes.
The Universe's Law: Live the right way. Be honest. Take responsibility. Trust your Talent.
These two Laws are not just plot devices. They represent the internal conflict at the heart of your story. The Protagonist has lived by the King's Law their entire life. It's kept them alive. It's all they know. And now, for the first time, something — someone — is telling them there's a better way.
They're not ready to believe it yet. But the seed has been planted.
This is what Sequence B is for.
What IS the Universe?
The Universe is always a character — or more precisely, it always needs a mouth.
It can be a single character (Gusteau's ghost), or it can be a place or force that speaks through the people who inhabit it (the city of Bruges, speaking through Marie). But it cannot be purely abstract. The Universe needs to be able to interact with the Protagonist directly — to give advice, to oppose the King's Law out loud, to be heard.
For your story, ask:
- Who or what is rooting for my Protagonist?
- Who gives voice to the Universe's Law?
- How does this character interact with the Protagonist in Sequence B?
If your Universe is a place or a force, find the character who gives it a mouth.
Son of the Universe
Because the Universe has other things to do besides shepherding one potential chosen one, it tends to send the Protagonist some inspiration in the form of a Muse.
The Muse is not there to teach the Protagonist how to use their Talent — the Protagonist is already the most talented person in the world. The Muse is there to teach the Protagonist how to live.
This is why the Muse has a complete lack of talent when it comes to whatever the Protagonist excels at. Without the Protagonist's help, the Muse will fail at the very thing the Protagonist was born to do. This ineptitude is what creates the bond between them — the Protagonist feels sorry for them, takes mercy on them, and eventually wants to help them. And in doing so, they start to absorb the one thing the Muse has in abundance: the Moral Strength that is the direct opposite of the Protagonist's Bad Habit.
This is the Universe's plan. The Muse is its instrument.
Example: Ratatouille
In Ratatouille the Muse is the Universe's literal son: Linguini. He can't cook and he hates lying and stealing. He holds the perfect combination of traits: he desperately needs the Protagonist's help, yet he embodies everything the Protagonist needs to become. He is the living proof that honesty is possible — and that it's worth something.
Example: In Bruges
In In Bruges Ray is not Marie's child — in fact they barely interact. But the writer has made it unmistakably clear that Ray is the Muse. He behaves like a child. He lacks the maturity and hitman experience of Ken. And he refuses to follow anyone's rules — Harry's, the law's, societal norms. He is guided entirely by instinct and conscience, which is exactly the quality Ken needs to absorb.
It is not a coincidence that Marie — the Universe — is pregnant at Christmas and essentially named Mary. The religious symbolism is deliberate: Ray is her spiritual son whether or not he is her biological one.
And it's not just Marie who represents the Universe. Chloe — who Ray meets later — also speaks for Bruges. She rewards Ray when he follows his instincts, offers him connection when he's at his lowest, and later (in Sequence CC) literally bails him out when he needs help. The entire city is the Universe, and its inhabitants are its voice.
The Muse's Problem
You already created your Muse back in Chapter 3. Sequence B is simply where you introduce them to your audience.
But there's one important thing to establish when you do: the Muse needs something, urgently.
Circumstances are forcing the Muse to reach for a goal that is similar to the Protagonist's Heaven on Earth — not for the same reasons, but out of sheer necessity. And because they completely lack the Protagonist's Talent, they have no idea how to get there.
This urgency is what pulls the Protagonist in. The Protagonist is lost and confused, but they could still just run away. The Muse doesn't have that option. Their problem needs solving now.
And unlike the Protagonist and the Antagonist — who are chasing their goals out of ambition or ego — the Muse is simply trying to survive.
Example: Ratatouille
Linguini needs a job. He's poor, has just lost his mom, and circumstances have put him in a kitchen where he doesn't belong. If he had Remy's talent, this would have been easy — son of the boss, best chef in the room, entirely honest. But he can't cook to save his life. So his problem is immediate and simple: he will be fired, and fast, unless something changes.
Example: In Bruges
Ray is drowning in guilt. He feels responsible for the death of a child and believes he should take his own life to repent. If he had Ken's experience and ability to put things in perspective, or Harry's dogmatic certainty, he'd have made a decision already. But he has neither — and because he's the one who pulled the trigger, he needs to make a decision about his own life that he is wholly unequipped to make.
Obstinate
Of course, the Protagonist at this stage doesn't know there's anything they need to learn. They think they're perfect just the way they are.
They're in a bit of trouble, so they'll listen to the Universe for a minute. And they're intrigued by the Muse, mostly because they're so inept. There's something attractive about them — maybe they're the only one who's been kind to the Protagonist, or they seem like a kindred spirit, or they can provide access to a world the Protagonist wants to enter.
But when push comes to shove, the Protagonist doesn't have time for any of this. They have their own problem to solve. They're not ready to help anyone yet.
That's about to change.
The Antagonist
Sequence B is the last introductory sequence. After this, the audience will know who everyone is, what they want, and what's standing in the way.
So far we've introduced the Protagonist and the Muse. There's one character still missing from the Trifecta: the Antagonist.
This is what the Transition Scene ending Sequence B is all about.
That said, it's sometimes a good idea to introduce the Antagonist earlier — during Sequence A or B. Just make sure they don't get into direct conflict with the Protagonist until Transition Scene 3 — a quarter of the way into the story.
Exercise: Write Sequence B
Your outline should include:
- A scene where the Protagonist meets the Universe The Universe's Law must be made clear — and it must directly contradict the King's Law.
- A scene where the Protagonist meets the Muse Show why the Muse desperately needs to reach for something similar to Heaven on Earth, and why they are completely unable to do so without help.
- Optional: Introduce the Antagonist You can bring them in here, but save the direct conflict for Transition Scene 3.
Connect using cause-and-effect:
Because the Protagonist challenged the King's Law, they find themselves [in the Strange World/lost/alone]. But the Universe appears in the form of [Universe character] and tells them [the opposite of the King's Law]. Meanwhile, the Muse [needs X desperately] but [completely lacks the Talent to achieve it]
Now let's see what happens when the Protagonist meets the Villain.
Transition Scene 3 - Fight Again!
The Protagonist takes pity on the Muse and decides to stick around and stand up for them.
The Villain
We can meet the Antagonist as early as the first scene, but it isn't until the end of Sequence B that we have everything in place for them to reveal their true nature. By now the audience knows exactly what the Protagonist's Ironic Talent is, and exactly how little of it the Muse possesses. When the Protagonist first meets the Muse, they usually take little notice. They have bigger problems — stemming from their conflict with the King — and they don't have the bandwidth to deal with someone else who needs rescuing. They might feel a little sorry for them, but they move on.
Then the Antagonist arrives.
The Antagonist clearly has similar traits to the Protagonist — the same Bad Habit, a version of the same Talent — but where the Protagonist's Bad Habit is a survival mechanism, the Antagonist's is a weapon. And the first thing the Protagonist sees them do is use it against the Muse: attacking someone for lacking the very thing the Protagonist was born with.
Something about that just doesn't sit right.
They take pity.
They decide to stay.
Example: Ratatouille
When Remy first arrives at Gusteau's kitchen, he dismisses Linguini as a garbage boy — despite the Universe (Gusteau's ghost) explicitly telling him not to.
Then Skinner enters.
He's clearly the head chef and Remy is immediately impressed by the position. It's obvious that Skinner holds far more power than anyone we've met so far. But it's equally obvious that he's the Villain: dismissive of everything and everyone, and when he sees the Garbage Boy has been cooking in his kitchen, he completely loses it.
Remy watches this interaction from the shadows. He uses it as a distraction to slip away. But he's seen enough. The Antagonist is powerful, the Muse is helpless, and Remy — whether he's ready to admit it or not — is the only one who can bridge that gap.
Example: In Bruges
In In Bruges this Transition Scene is a flashback to when Ray kills the Priest and the boy.
Ray tells the Priest: "Harry Waters says 'Hello'" — making it clear he is acting on the Antagonist's orders.
We will learn later just how cruel this was: a first assignment, in broad daylight, in a public space, with enormous room for error. And when something goes wrong and Ray accidentally kills a child, Harry is ruthless. He believes Ray deserves to die for it — and is genuinely baffled that Ken disagrees.
At this stage the audience doesn't yet know all of this. But we see Ken drag a despondent Ray out of the church. We don't fully understand what it costs Ken to make that choice yet — but we will.
Advanced Technique: Out of Order
The plot of a story can be told out of chronological order. The structure cannot.
This is exactly what In Bruges demonstrates here. If the film had opened with Ray killing the priest and the child, Ray would have become the Protagonist — a wannabe hitman learning to deal with his mistakes. But that's not the story. The story is Ken's. So the writer withholds this scene until the end of Sequence B, where structurally it belongs: the moment where the Antagonist's cruelty towards the Muse is revealed, and the Protagonist decides to act. (Drag Ray out of the church and off to Bruges.)
The scene is placed out of chronological order to preserve the structural order. The audience doesn't yet know that Harry sending Ray on this job was an act of cruelty. They don't yet know that Ken sees it that way either. But by putting it here — rather than at the beginning — the writer ensures that we experience it through Ken's eyes, not Ray's.
This is a powerful technique. Just remember the rule: you can move scenes around in time as much as you like, as long as each story building block still appears in its correct structural position.
The Protagonist's Choice
At every Transition Scene, the Protagonist makes a decision.
This one is no different — but what makes it interesting is that it doesn't look like a big decision from the outside. The Protagonist isn't signing a contract or declaring war. They're just... staying. Reaching back. Deciding that this one person, this inept and struggling Muse, is worth their time.
But structurally, this is one of the most important decisions in the entire story. Because it is the moment the Protagonist stops running from their own problem and starts moving toward someone else's. And in doing so, they set everything that follows in motion.
The Universe has engineered this moment carefully. It sent the Muse. It arranged the encounter. It put the Antagonist's cruelty on display at exactly the right time. The test is simple: does the Protagonist listen to their heart?
If they don't, the story is over.
Example: Ratatouille
Linguini reiterates that he can't cook and asks the rat for help.
Remy has three separate moments in one scene by the Seine where he changes his mind. He starts to leave. He turns back. He talks himself out of it. He turns back again. But ultimately — clearly, deliberately — he decides to help.
By then, we know exactly what he's agreeing to do: cook, for a human, in secret. Everything that follows flows from this single decision.
Example: In Bruges
We see Ken drag a despondent Ray out of the church after the shooting.
We learn later from Harry that he would have "killed himself on the spot" if he'd murdered a child, and he expected Ray to do the same. Ken could have let that happen. He could have walked away. He could have not been in the scene at all.
But he was there. And he chose to take Ray with him.
That choice — quiet, unremarkable on the surface — is what makes In Bruges Ken's story.
Exercise: Write Transition Scene 3
Write a scene where:
- The Antagonist is cruel to the Muse The cruelty should be directly related to the Muse's lack of Talent. The Protagonist must witness it.
- The Protagonist takes pity Something in them responds to the Muse's situation. They feel a connection — a kindred spirit, a sense of injustice, a pull they can't explain.
- The Protagonist makes a decision to stay This is an active choice. It should feel small from the outside, but the audience should sense its weight.
Connect using cause-and-effect:
Because the Muse [lacks Talent] and is [in desperate need], the Antagonist [attacks/dismisses/humiliates them]. But the Protagonist [witnesses this] and thus decides to [help/protect/stay] — even though it complicates their own situation.
The Two Laws
Before we move into Sequence C, it's worth pausing to name something that is now fully in place.
Over the course of Sequences A and B, your story has established two opposing philosophies — one through the King, one through the Universe. These two Laws will be in direct conflict for the rest of your story, and every decision your Protagonist makes will be a choice between them.
The King's Law is rooted in survival. It's practical, hardwired, and deeply familiar to the Protagonist. It's what got them this far. In Ratatouille it sounds like: steal and hide to survive. In In Bruges it sounds like: follow orders and don't ask questions.
The Universe's Law is rooted in morality. It asks the Protagonist to live differently — to trust their Talent, to be honest, to take responsibility. It sounds naive at first. Possibly dangerous. The Protagonist isn't ready to believe it yet. In Ratatouille it sounds like: be honest about who you are. In In Bruges it sounds like: think for yourself.
These two Laws map directly onto your THE Theme — the King's Law is the Bad Habit, and the Universe's Law is the Muse's Moral Strength.
As you write each sequence from here, ask yourself: which Law is the Protagonist following right now?
The answer will tell you exactly where you are in the story:
- First half (Sequences A through D): The Protagonist follows the King's Law. They think it's working.
- Turning point (Sequences CC and DD): The King's Law fails them completely.
- Second half resolution (Sequence DD and Heaven): The Protagonist follows the Universe's Law. And it gets them to Heaven.
Keep both Laws written on your worksheet alongside THE Theme. They are your story's moral engine — and everything that happens in your plot is a direct consequence of which one your Protagonist is choosing to follow.
You've completed the second sequence of your outline.
We know exactly who everyone is. We know what they want and need. We know the problems and the obstacles, and the Protagonist has decided to stay in a world that is strange to them.
We're done introducing — and we're ready to give our Protagonist a superpower in Sequence C.