Clean House: Rogal Dorn Edition
Title: Clean House: Rogal Dorn Edition
INT. ROGAL DORN’S FORTRESS-MONASTERY - DAY
The Clean House crew arrives at the towering, imposing Phalanx, the legendary mobile fortress-monastery of the Imperial Fists. As they walk up the massive, ornate steps, their eyes widen at the sight of the citadel-like structure. It’s not just a home—it’s a fortress.
NIÈCY NASH steps out of the transport first, dressed in her signature bold and colorful outfit, ready to take on what she assumes is just another hoarder’s house.
NIÈCY NASH (smirking) Now y’all, this is next level. I’ve never seen a “home” that looks like it’s ready for battle.
Behind her, MATT ISEMAN, the handyman; TRISH SUHR, the yard sale expert; and MARK BRUNETZ, the interior designer, follow. Their jaws drop as they take in the massive, spartan architecture.
MATT ISEMAN (surprised) Is this a house or a military base? I feel like I’m about to storm a castle.
TRISH SUHR (laughing nervously) Well, I hope they’ve got stuff to sell. If they’ve been collecting weapons, I don’t know what we’re going to do with that!
Suddenly, the massive adamantium doors swing open, and ROGAL DORN himself, towering and stoic, emerges. His armor clinks slightly as he strides forward, his face set in its usual stoic expression, though there's a faint hint of discomfort. Behind him, several Imperial Fists Space Marines stand at attention, their yellow armor gleaming.
ROGAL DORN (seriously) You are the "Clean House" crew?
NIÈCY NASH (grinning) That’s right, baby! We’re here to get this place in tip-top shape. It’s time to declutter and clean up! Now, Dorn... you don’t mind if I call you Dorn, right?
ROGAL DORN (deadpan) I am Rogal Dorn. You may call me Dorn if it pleases you. However, the state of my fortress is... unacceptable.
NIÈCY NASH (raising an eyebrow) Unacceptable? Honey, this place is like a fortress... literally. But we’re gonna need to see what’s going on inside. Let’s take a look!
INT. FORTRESS-MONASTERY - MAIN HALLWAY
The crew follows Rogal Dorn through the immense halls of the Phalanx. The walls are lined with banners, statues, and relics from countless battles. Dust lingers in the air. Some parts of the hallway look polished and pristine, while others... not so much.
MARK BRUNETZ (surveying the scene) Well, there’s definitely a theme going on here—militaristic, functional... but it feels like you’ve sacrificed some comfort. And, uh, maybe dusting hasn’t been a priority?
ROGAL DORN (frowning) Maintenance of the fortress’ defenses and the Chapter’s armory is paramount. However, some... personal quarters have become neglected.
They arrive at a section of the fortress that seems to have been cordoned off. Rogal Dorn gestures toward a towering set of doors that lead to his private living quarters.
ROGAL DORN (seriously) This is the area I wish for you to... improve.
NIÈCY NASH (nods knowingly) Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.
INT. ROGAL DORN’S PERSONAL QUARTERS - DAY
As the crew steps into Rogal Dorn’s private chambers, they’re immediately struck by how stark and cluttered it is. Large STC blueprints, battle plans, and half-assembled fortifications are scattered everywhere. Piles of reinforced metal plates, servo tools, and dusty relics from countless campaigns are strewn across the room. There’s barely any personal touch, aside from a few sternly placed medals.
TRISH SUHR (shaking her head) This is more of a workshop than a bedroom! How does anyone live in here?
MATT ISEMAN (eyeing a giant, half-assembled siege weapon in the corner) Looks like he’s been working on a DIY project that’s... gotten out of hand.
NIÈCY NASH (sighs) Dorn, baby, we need to talk. I get that you’re busy building defenses for the entire galaxy, but this? This isn’t a home. This is a bunker with a bed. What do you actually need from all this stuff?
ROGAL DORN (grim) Each item here serves a purpose. The defenses of humanity are not built on comfort. But... I acknowledge the need for order.
NIÈCY NASH (nods) Order, I can get with. But baby, you’ve got to let go of some of this! You don’t need all these weapons in your bedroom!
MARK BRUNETZ (gesturing around) Exactly. We need to clear out all this war gear and give you a space where you can actually relax. You’re the Primarch of the Imperial Fists, not the Terminator!
ROGAL DORN (seriously) Relaxation is secondary to duty.
NIÈCY NASH (playfully) Mmm-hmm, well today it’s not! We’re going to clear out this clutter, have a yard sale, and make this place shine, Dorn-style. But first, let’s talk about what can stay and what’s gotta go!
MONTAGE: DECLUTTERING AND SORTING
Cue upbeat music as the Clean House crew and Dorn begin the process of decluttering his personal quarters.
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Matt struggles to haul out giant, unnecessary piles of ceramite armor plates.
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Trish examines ancient siege engines, trying to figure out how to sell them in a yard sale.
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Mark is horrified to find that Dorn has been using giant bolter cases as storage for old tactical maps.
Throughout the process, Dorn is reluctant to part with his relics. He looks grimly at a pile of discarded debris.
ROGAL DORN (quietly, almost mournfully) Each piece represents a battle won, a fortress secured...
NIÈCY NASH (patting him on the shoulder) I get it, honey, but you’ve got to make space for you. You’ve already secured humanity. Now, secure your own peace!
EXT. FORTRESS COURTYARD - YARD SALE
The courtyard of the Phalanx has been transformed into a makeshift yard sale. Space Marines walk by, eyeing the odd collection of relics, old bolter shells, and reinforced doors.
TRISH SUHR (excitedly) We’ve got a real special today, folks! Get your own custom-built Imperial fortifications—perfect for your next siege!
A Space Marine hesitates but then grabs a siege drill.
INT. ROGAL DORN’S PERSONAL QUARTERS - FINAL REVEAL
The Clean House team leads Dorn back into his personal quarters. The transformation is dramatic. Gone are the cluttered battle plans and towering weapons. The room is now sleek and functional, but with a touch of comfort. There’s a bed free of debris, with an imposing but clean desk for tactical work. A few carefully selected relics adorn the walls, giving the room a warrior’s dignity without overwhelming the space.
MARK BRUNETZ (proudly) We kept your personal style—minimal, functional—but now you’ve got room to breathe, relax, and, dare I say, enjoy yourself.
ROGAL DORN (inspecting the room, nodding slowly) This... is acceptable.
NIÈCY NASH (laughing) Acceptable? That’s high praise from the Primarch himself! Baby, your home should be as strong as your defenses, but also as peaceful as your soul. We did it!
ROGAL DORN (serious, but slightly softer) You’ve accomplished your task well. The Phalanx feels... lighter.
NIÈCY NASH (grinning) Mission accomplished! Now, just promise me you’ll keep it this way, okay?
Dorn looks at her, then glances around his newly revitalized quarters.
ROGAL DORN (stoically) I give you my word. This space shall remain orderly.
EXT. FORTRESS MONASTERY - DAY
As the Clean House team prepares to leave, Dorn stands on the steps of the Phalanx, watching them go. There’s a faint hint of satisfaction in his eyes.
NIÈCY NASH (turning back) You ever need a cleanup again, don’t hesitate to call, okay, Dorn?
ROGAL DORN (nods) I will remember. Safe travels.
As the team drives off, the camera zooms out, showing the vast expanse of the Phalanx, now just a little more peaceful—and a little more like home.
END.
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