MiSTied: Evolution in Cold Blood 1/6
rcoa...@forest.drew.edu
From: Coakley, Robert
RCOAKLEY
Dept: STUDENT
Tel No: (201)-408-5013
TO: Remote INTERNET Address ( _IN%ALT-TV...@CS.UTEXAS.EDU )
TO: Remote INTERNET Address ( _IN%REC-ARTS-TV...@CS.UTEXAS.EDU )
Subject: MiSTied: Evolution in Cold Blood 1/6
Date: 05-Oct-1995 03:13am EST
From: Coakley, Robert
RCOAKLEY
Dept: STUDENT
Tel No: (201)-408-5013
TO: Remote INTERNET Address ( _IN%MNE...@ENGIN.UMICH.EDU )
Subject: MiSTied: Evolution in Cold Blood 1/6
<SOL. Tom is standing on a little "stage" of sorts, while we see Mike seated a little bit
in front of Cambot, munching popcorn. Crow is on the other side. Tom is wearing
brown colored robes.>
TOM: And now, the SOL players would like to present an adaptation of
Kathy Tyres' "Truce at Bakura," a popular _Star Wars_ novel.
Princess Leia will be played by Gypsy, and the ghost of
Anakin Skywalker will be played by myself, Tom Servo.
<During the sketch, Mike and Crow whisper about how great the sketch is.>
<Gypsy enters, wearing "ram-horn hair" on her head. Tom tries to act dramatic.>
TOM: Leia...
GYPSY: Who are you?
TOM: It is I, you father, Anakin Skywalker.
GYPSY: You mean Darth Vader? Forget you!
TOM: Hey! Is that anyway to talk to your father?
GYPSY: Sorry, "Dad," but my father died when you blew up
Alderann. Real nice too, considering they were defenseless.
TOM: Yeah...but that was a good thing. It made other people join
the Rebellion.
GYPSY: You call killing five billion people a good thing?
TOM: In the long run, yeah.
GYPSY: Well, you also tortured the man I loved, Richard Basehart!
TOM <whispering>: Han Solo.
GYPSY: Err, I meant Han Solo.
TOM: Um...well, I didn't do any permanent damage. You're just being
selfish. All the Jedi I hunted down and killed for the Emperor
forgave me, and you're still carrying a grudge 'cause I roughed up
that scruffy little pirate.
GYPSY: How dare you call the man I love a pirate! <exits sobbing>
TOM: Geeze. She thinks she's such a princess!
<Commerical light flashes>
<Mike and Crow applause. Tom hits commercial light.>
<Commercials. Are you sure the best way to get a girl's attention is to hold a
condom up to her face?>
<SOL>
MIKE: Great show, Tom!
CROW: Yeah! I can't wait for the one where Mara Jade gets let into the
New Republic despite being the Emperor's private assassin for
about ten years.
TOM: I'm not sure Gypsy would want to wear a red-gold wig.
<Mads light flashes>
MIKE: Hold up, young Jedi, Timothy Zahn is calling.
<Deep 13>
DR. F: Well, Roger MacBride Allen, nice to see your 'bots brushing up
on modern classics of sci-fi literature. Let's get on with the
invension exchange. Since I know mine will be better, you
can go first.
<SOL>
<We see Crow being held in a minature cage. He seems to be dressed up like
a wild animal.>
CROW: Grrr. Snarl!
MIKE: Well, Dr. F, my invention exchange is inspired by recent events in
the X-Men comic book series. What do you do when you have a viciously
feral and homicidal maniac living in your house?
TOM: Hope the teenaged girl living there will befriend him?
MIKE: Well, yes, but you also need a nice cage to keep him in. And this
Psycho-Holder is just what you need in case an ex-assassin
wants your help to cure his homical urges.
CROW: Grrr. Snarl.
MIKE: Yes, just because you have a deranged psychotic in your home, doesn't
mean you have to give up space in the Danger Room. What do you
think, sir?
TOM: And what invention could top this?
<Deep 13>
<Dr. Forrester glares at the camera impatiently>
DR. F: Well, my invention will beam fanfics directly into the human brain!
<SOL>
CROW <sarcastic>: That sounds familiar.
<Deep 13>
DR. F: My plans involve attaching a breathing apparatus to it, and
sending it up the umbilicus. Then I'll cut off your oxygen supply,
forcing you to wear it, Nelson.
<SOL>
<Crow is now out of his cage.>
MIKE: Dear God in Heaven!!!
TOM: Don't worry, Mike! We'll kill you before you can suffer like that!
<Deep 13>
DR. F: The problem is that I need a test subject to see how effective it is.
The problem is, with Frank gone I...
<On cue, doorbell to Deep 13 rings>
DR. F: Excuse me.
<Goes to answer the door. At the door is a young Japanese man with
a large backpack, red bamboo umbrella, and wearng a bandana. Anime
fans should reconize the youth as Ryoga Hibiki, from the anime series
"Ranma 1/2." Ryoga is the "lost boy" with a terrible sense of
direction with a big crush on Akane Tendo.>
RYOGA: Excuse me, do you know the way to the Tendo Dojo?
DR. F: Well, no. Who are you?
RYOGA: I'm Ryoga Hibiki. Where am I? Am I in Japan?
DR. F: No, you're in Deep 13, located somewhere underground in
Minnesota.
RYOGA: Oh, blast! Now what am I going to do? I'll never find my
beloved Akane again. <sobs>
<Dr. Forrester smiles evilly, then becomes "nice" to Ryoga.>
DR. F: Well, Ryoga, before you continue your trek to Japan, would
you like something to eat?
RYOGA: Do you have any bread?
DR. F: Bread?
RYOGA: Sure! We have the best bread in Japan. We have
plain bread, toasted bread, fried bread, French bread...
<SOL>
<Mike and 'bots stare at Camera>
TOM: Poor Ryoga.
CROW: We've gotta do something.
<Deep 13>
<Ryoga continues talking about bread while Dr. Forrester
turn to the camera>
DR. F: Well, Nelson, I think I've found my volunteer. While
I'm preparing for my greatest triumph, feel free to read
"Evolution in Cold Blood" a Bubblegum Crisis fanfic
that will leave you tasting spinach bubblegum.
RYOGA: There's spinach bread, as well as lettuce bread
and cabbage bread...
DR. F: Enjoy...
<SOL>
<Lights and buzzers>
ALL: WE'VE GOT FANFIC SIIIIIIIGN!!!!
<Door sequence>
<Mike and 'bots enter theater>
CROW: There's olive bread and spicy bread...
MIKE: Shush.
> B U B B L E G U M C R I S I S:
>
> Evolution In Cold Blood
>
> Written by M. Mckenzie; based on characters and
> situations from the OVA series.
>
TOM: A portion of the funding for this fanfic comes from
the Stacked Chicks In Body Armor Foundation.
CROW: And otaku like you.
>
> Mega Tokyo, 2032.
> The great buildings of the city rose like hi-tech towers of
>Babel into the night sky, illuminated like jewels. On the
>streets, vehicles and people moved in a steady stream. Lovers,
>hands linked, pointed out sights and sounds to one another.
CROW: How romantic! Smog and human misery.
>Above it all, in the skies, an occasional AD Police one-man
>chopper cruised on patrol, looking for trouble.
TOM: And then getting shot down in flames.
> That didn't mean one blessed thing to the homeless man who
>was rooting through the trash in a darkened alley.
MIKE: Funny, it didn't mean much to us, either.
>The place was piled high with refuse and kipple,
ALL: Kipple?
>but it was perfect for his
>needs. He had once been an up-and-coming exec at the GENOM
>corporation, but after what had gone down months ago...
CROW <sarcastic>: Gee, I wonder if the Knight Sabers had something to
do with that...
> The man grunted at his turn of luck. His money, home,
>marriage...all gone. All that was left was himself.
ALL <singing>: Well, I'm sick of myself, when I look at you...
> His eyes lit up as he uncovered a half-eaten hamburger.
>Wolfing it down, he ignored the sour smell and taste,
>concentrating only on filling his stomach.
TOM: Hey! This tastes better than Jack-In-The-Box!
> The growl came from his right.
CROW: Rush Limbough IS...out for revenge!!!
> "Eh?" the man said, jerking his head to the right.
MIKE: I tried that once. Needed a cast for a week.
>He saw
>nothing...but the growl came again, this time closer.
> "Who's there?" he yelled, looking this way and that. He
>began backing toward the alley's entrance, but it was a good
>twenty feet away. Not that anyone could hear him; there were no
>cars or vehicles passing by.
TOM: But the author already said how busy everything was.
> "Who's there, dammit!" he yelled again. He stared at the
>darkness in the alley.
> And received his answer.
CROW: I'll take "Lame Cyberpunk Stories" for 200, Alex.
> Two red eyes emerged from the dark, regarding him. But what
>they were attatched to--
TOM: Wild guess: Someone's head?
> The man's bladder let go. His nerves did too. Turning, he
>ran for the alley's entrance, screaming. He did not see the
>fast-moving shape behind him.
CROW: Spud Webb?
>He did not hear its triumphant shriek;
ALL: Yay! The Devils have won the Stanley Cup!!!
>his heart was pounding loudly in his ears. But he did
>feel unendurable agony as his back was ripped wide open.
MIKE: Gratuitous violence. Maybe this won't be so bad, after all.
CROW: You misspelled, "necessary to keep the audience awake,"
Mike.
MIKE: My mistake.
>
> It had been a great gig for the Replicants.
TOM: Aside from Harrison Ford trying to "retire" them.
> Priss, on lead vocals, finished the band's last number,
>"Paradise Road".
CROW: No relation to "Kimagure Orange Road."
TOM: I'm feeling a little "whimsical" right now.
>As the music ended, the applause began. "Thank
>you...thanks," she said, waving to the crowd and to the three
>women sitting at the table closest to the stage.
MIKE: The author thinks three women at a table is a "crowd?"
> Minutes later, the band members were saying their goodbyes.
ALL: Priss, we quit!
>Priss watched them leave and returned to her friends. Stepping
>out into the lounge, she saw them.
TOM: She saw them after she returned to them.
> "Priss!" Nene squeled, running up. "You were wonderful!"
MIKE: Uh-uh, Crow. Uh-uh.
> Behind her, Linna and Celia nodded and gave their approvals.
CROW <sarcastic>: Oh, are Linna and Celia going to grace us with
their approval?
TOM: I thought it was *Sylia* Stingray.
MIKE: Sad, being named after nose hair.
TOM: Hey, she could be named after audio equipment, *Mike*.
> "Thanks...but I'm tired, though," Priss said, running a hand
>through her hair. "I just want to--"
TOM: Engage in some meaningless violence?
>but the sound of clapping intereupted her.
MIKE: It's the sound of one hand clapping!
> "Bravo!! Bravo!!" a _very_ familiar voice said from the back.
> Leon McNichol approached the group, still clapping.
ALL: AHH!!
CROW: Oh, God, no.
> "Very good, Priss. May I change that to awesome?"
CROW: Leon McNichol- The Wesley Crusher of Bubblegum Crisis.
> Priss put her hands on her hips and regarded Leon with a
>knife-like gaze.
TOM: Replace it with a real knife, and we'll all be happy.
>"What do you want, Leon?"
> "Ah! A question!"
ALL <jumping>: AHHH!!!
> Leon stopped clapping,
TOM: He can clap a long time.
CROW: It's due to the callouses on his hands.
>pucked a flower out of a vase on the table next to him,
MIKE: Puck? What's he doing there?
TOM: I don't know, but it's a sure bet the characters will bad mouth
him behind his back.
>and offered it to Priss.
>With a huge grin on his face, he said, "And here is my answer:
>Could I take you out tonight?"
CROW <Priss>: I don't know, Leon. You could get your legs broken
or a concussion if things went bad.
TOM <Leon>: I'm not afraid of the Boomers.
CROW <Priss>: I wasn't walking about the Boomers!
> Priss' eyes widened, then narrowed. "NO! I'm not going!
>I'm tired, Leon, and I'm going home. Now get lost!"
CROW: You tell 'im, girlfriend!
> Leon's eyebrows went up above his shades. His grin
>remained, however. "But, it's my only free night, and--" -he
>suddenly dropped to his knees-
TOM: And begged Priss not to kill him for being so lame.
>"and I'm feeling sooo lonely!
>Please?"
MIKE <Priss>: Wellllll, no.
> Priss stared, aghast. Behind her, Nene and Linna giggled,
>while Celia grinned.
CROW <falsetto>: Tee hee! What a dork!
> "Do I have to kiss your feet?" Leon asked. He bent foward,
>as if intent on doing what he said, when Priss stamped her foot
>and blurted out, "All right, all right, Leon, we have a date!"
MIKE: Nuts. I was hoping she would kick him in the teeth.
TOM: Jeeze, I think she'd rather go one-on-one with Largo than
date that Space Case.
> Leon shot to his feet, the grin _still_ on his face. "Okay!
>That's what I want to hear. I'll be outside."
TOM: Playing in traffic.
CROW: Don't get my hopes up.
>He walked out of the front door of the Hot Legs Cafe, whistling an old tune
>from The Smiths.
MIKE <Morrisey voice>: I wrote this song when two mad scientists
locked me in a large piece of Tupperware to preserve me.
Did I mention that I cried?
> Laughter broke out from behind Priss.
TOM: It's funny cause Leon is such a loser.
>Red-faced, she turned to her three friends (and fellow Knight Sabers)
ALL: Ohhh! They're the Knight Sabers!
>and yelled, "What the hell is so funny?"
TOM: Comedy Central!!
MIKE: Don't kiss up.
> Linna giggled, "But Priss, Leon's such a hunk! I mean, you
>and him look so cute...!"
CROW: I take it Linna's the one with the bad eyesight...
> Celia smiled warmly
TOM: Um, the emotionally stunted don't smile.
>and added, "Also Priss, you have saved his life a few times."
TOM: We all make mistakes.
> "Yeah..." Priss faced the door. "Besides, I think that I
>might be--" She left her friends and went to her room to get
>ready.
MIKE: "Might be--" what?
TOM: Quincy's illegitimate daughter?
MIKE: A poor rip-off of "Bladerunner?"
CROW: A lesbian?
MIKE: CROW!
> Two AD Police officers sat in their car, which was parked in
>a small niche near a busy intersection. Both had their eyes on a
>stunning young woman who was behind the wheel of her car.
TOM: And completely ignoring the Buma on a rampage two
blocks away.
> "Mmmmmm...not bad," said one.
> "Yeah," replied the other. "Oh--damn, she's gone."
> "Oh hell, nothing lasts forever," the first officer mused.
MIKE: This fanfic is coming close.
CROW: I think Gotham City cops are better than the AD Police.
>He reached for his coffee cup when he froze.
TOM: Bleach! Decaf!!
>"What in the name of--"
TOM: Carl Macek!
MIKE: Matthew Sweet!
CROW: Suzuki Toshimichi!
> His partner then noticed the trickles of blood running down
>the wind-sheild. Both men pulled out their handguns--
ALL: Ewwwww!
> --When the roof was torn wide open.
TOM: Hey! That car IS a convertable, you know.
> The first officer turned around, only to be splashed with
>his partner's blood. Screaming, he pushed the door open and ran
>for the street, but he never made it. Two powerful hands grabbed
>him, and yanked him back into the dark.
MIKE: Jeeze, those Jehovah's Witnesses are aggressive in the 21st
century.
CROW: Read "The Watchtower" or I'll blow your brains out!
>
> Leon had to admit it; his gamble had paid off.
TOM: Creating *software*, not hardware! I'll make billions!
>Priss was
>sitting next to him as he drove, and they were talking, at least.
CROW <Priss>: You talk too much, you think you're God's
gift to women, you think you could put GENOM out
of business with that stupid invention of your's...
> Priss had the same thought in mind.
TOM: Hopefully it involves Leon and target practice.
>She enjoyed being with
>Leon--once you got past his shit-eating exterior,
MIKE <Samuel L. Jackson>: I don't
want anything to do with an anime character without
enough sense to disgard his own feces.
>there was quite a guy there.
CROW <stupid>: Yeah. Quite a guy.
>She responded to him calmly, with no secrets to
>hide.
TOM <falsetto>: I hate your guts!
> After all, Leon already knew her greatest secret.
CROW: I'm not going there!
> "So!" Leon asked, "how come you and your girls have been
>silent?"
> Priss looked at him.
MIKE <falsetto>: I just did a freaking ROCK CONCERT you...
>He had meant the Knight Sabers.
MIKE <falsetto>: Whoops! Ain't my face red?
>"Oh, well, nothing has come up yet.
CROW <Leon>: Oh, I wouldn't say that...
MIKE: You'd better not.
>GENOM's been preety quiet."
TOM <German accent>: Yees. Preety quiet. Veery quiet.
> "Yeah..."
> "Leon," Priss stammered, "I'm sorry for what I said
>earlier."
MIKE: She's sorry she said yes.
> Leon gave her another shit-eating grin.
TOM <Travolta>: So, if Leon had a better personality, he would cease to be
a filthy animal.
MIKE <Jackson>: Yes, but you'd have to be talking about a major increase
in personality. He'd have to be ten times more charming
than that Lum chick on _Urusei Yatsura_.
CROW: Ladies and gentelmen, the _Pulp Fiction_ sketch.
>"Ah, forget it!
ALL: Wish we could.
>You changed your mind, you're here. And besides, dinner does
>amazing things to a woman."
CROW: Not that Priss needs to skip any meals! Grrrrowwwlll.
> "Now look, if you think I'm going to spend the night with
>you--"
MIKE: You're even dumber than you look.
TOM: Like _that's_ possible.
> Leon gaped. "I said THAT? Priss, I take things slow, if
>you know what I mean.
CROW: Nudge nudge wink wink say no more!
MIKE: PLEASE say no more.
>And--what the HELL?" He stomped on the
>brake; the car screeched to a halt.
CROW: Why don't they look?
> "What the blue hell?"
TOM: "Blue." Not quite an effective word as "shock," is it?
MIKE: Well, it's 2032, not 2099.
>Now Leon was out of the car, heading
>toward the collection of AD Police vehicles that stood near an
>alley, lights flashing.
CROW <radio annoucer>: They're bringing Oswald out!
>Priss also stepped out. Her eyes went
>wide at the sight, but she didn't want to follow. At least, not
>yet.
MIKE <falsetto>: So I just wait here then?
>
> The body near the AD Police cruiser looked as if it had been
>through a meat ginder.
CROW: Yo! Welcome to the Grind!
>Except for the fact that guts were
>everywhere and that the head was missing, it was definitely
>human.
TOM: Unless it was a boomer.
> Leon was glad his stomach was empty.
MIKE: He liked dry-heaving!
> Most of the officers
>around him had already puked or were looking
>green-around-the-gills. Daily Wong approached him,
CROW: Vanishing Son!!!
MIKE: That's Russel Wong.
>taking a
>sidelong glance at the remains. "Hey, we should have contacted
>you. But you found us anyway."
TOM: So I guess that's irony, huh.
> "Who are they?" Leon whispered. "What about the guy in the
>seat?" He indicated the headless body in the AD Police cruiser.
MIKE: So *that's* what Monster Joe did with the car.
> Daily looked at the pad he carried. "It's Kobayashi and
>MacAllister, Leon.
MIKE: Come on! Everyone knows Kobayashi was just a name
Verbal made up from the bottom of the coffee mug.
TOM: And MacAllister was left "Home Alone."
>But they're not the only ones."
CROW <singing>: I'm not the only one, oohhh, I'm not the only one...
> "What?"
> "We found another body several blocks from here. What was
>left of it..."
TOM: Could fit in a body-bag.
MIKE: Could fit in a garbage bag.
CROW: Could fit in a zip-lock bag.
> "Could this...this whole thing have been done by a Buma?"
> Daily shrugged. "Can't say, Leon. All the Buma cases we
>worked on never looked like this. Never.
MIKE: Well, what about that one cop at the start of BGC #1?
TOM: Yeah...
CROW: And then there was the "vampire" cases...
TOM: Okay, so a lot of Buma cases end up like this. Sheesh.
>It just doesn't make any sense."
TOM: Well, that's anime fanfic for you.
>He shook his head as he spoke. Then he looked up.
>"I think your lady-friend is interested."
CROW <Dailey>: Not in you, though.
> Leon turned and saw Priss walking over. He walked up to
>her, put his hands on her shoulders,
MIKE: Look. Gentle pressure (tm).
>and tried to move her away.
> "Priss, this is a crime scene. You can't come here."
TOM <faletto>: Shut up before I turn YOU into a crime scene!
> "Leon, what the hell are you--My GOD!" She had seen the
>bodies in the alley, and she nearly collapsed in shock.
MIKE: For a mercenary boomer-hunter, Priss sure has a weak stomach.
> Leon didn't talk anymore.
ALL: Halelujah!!!
>He just hugged her, being the nice guy he was.
CROW: Yeah. Right. Real nice guy, that Leon.
>
> Their appetites had left them both,
TOM: And were on a plane for Bora Bora.
>so the only thing they could do was have a drink.
MIKE: Drowning your sorrows in liquor is fun!
> The place was a small bar on a crowded Shinjuku street,
CROW: Off Hikeeba Avenue.
>a quiet affair
MIKE: "Love Affair" was a pretty quiet movie, wasn't it?
>with a large front window.
CROW: Oh, that's gonna get broken.
TOM: No question.
>No loud music, no unruly
>drunks--just a quiet place for couples.
TOM: Do those exist in cyberpunk stories?
MIKE: You consider this a cyberpunk story?
TOM: Point taken.
> Leon took a sip of his beer, his eyes not on Priss but on
>the slow traffic outside. Priss noticed this.
CROW <falsetto>: He's finally not trying to look down my shirt.
> "So," she said finally, "Do you think it was a Buma, Leon?"
> He turned his eyes on her again. "No, I don't think so. I
>mean, these guys were ripped apart! I _knew_ them, Priss!
MIKE: Sorry, Leon, you're no...
TOM: Kevin Kline
CROW: Mel Gibson.
MIKE: Ralph Finnes.
>I went on patrol with them, got drunk with them, and even went
>through a few scrapes with them!"
TOM <sobbing>: They even let me borrow their wives!
> Priss put her hand on his.
ALL: WHAT?!?
TOM: Oh, please don't let us lose our respect for Priss!
>"It's all right. Just let it
>out." She gave a chuckle. "Hah, look at me, Miss Melodramatic."
TOM: Holly Hunter?
MIKE: Jodie Foster?
CROW: Jessica Lang?
> Leon laughed, although it was strained.
MIKE: Like his character.
CROW: What character?
MIKE: Point taken.
>"You're doing a
>good job of it. No, Priss, like I said, no Buma could have been
>responsible for those deaths. Not even a 33-S type."
TOM <dramatic voice>: 33-S for your Sega Genesis!
> Priss remained silent, her memory of Anrie and Sylvie coming
>to mind.
MIKE: The faces of those she's wronged float before her.
TOM: Hey!!! She didn't have a CHOICE!!! D.D. would have blown up
the whole city if Priss hadn't...<starts to sob>
MIKE: Cool out, Tom.
TOM <sobbing>: Sorry, but...
CROW:...You're a hopless Otaku.
TOM: Shut up, shut up, shut up!
> "But, Daily and the chief told me not to worry, to sit this
>one out.
CROW: When did this happen?
>So, here we are."
> Priss said, "I might be getting involved."
TOM: Oh, please not with him. Please.
> "Oh, you and your associates," Leon answered, making sure
>not to mention the Knight Sabers.
CROW <stupid voice>: Ooops. Did I say that out loud?
>"If you are, be careful. This
>killer or these killers may not be Bumas. If they are, they may
>be a new type."
TOM: That Leon, what a genius in the study of Bumas!
MIKE: He already SAID they couldn't be Bumas.
> "I know, Leon."
> "Well, until they arrive, let's finish up our poisons, shall
>we?"
CROW: Okay, but drink your's first!
> The next thing Leon knew, there was blood everywhere.
MIKE: Yeah! Priss stabbed him!!!
> Screams went up from the bar.
ALL: The Zima Man! NOOOOOOO!!!!
>Acting on reflex, Leon drew out his gun and scanned the area.
TOM <British voice>: Everybody be cool this is a robbery!
MIKE: I think you guys have been watching one too many Tarantino movies.
> The body on the floor in front of him had been thrown from
>the door at the back of the bar.
CROW: Um, bouncers are supposed to throw guys *out* of the bar,
not *into* the bar.
>Parts of it were missing:
TOM: Plot...
MIKE: Grammar...
CROW: Character development...
>arms, the head, and some flesh. But then something else came from the
>back door, heading in Leon's direction.
> "PRISS! LOOK OUT!"
TOM: It's a J.A.I.L.E.D. agent!!!! Hide your bootleg copies!!!
> He got a good look at the thing before it crashed through
>the front window.
CROW: Told you.
>It was about six feet tall, bipedial, with
>powerful arms and legs, and a long thrashing tail. The skin was
>scaly, a brownish color crossed by red stripes. The thing had
>massive claws on its feet and hands. But the face! It was flat
>and lizardlike, with large red eyes.
ALL: Jack Palance?! NOOOOO!!
> Then it was gone, speeding across the street, to the shock
>and surprise of the crowd outside. A man was in its way; it
>disemboweled him with a swipe of its arm.
> Leon stood at the shattered window, gun in hand. Priss
>stood next to him, her cheek cut by a shard of glass.
CROW: Leon will probably try to kiss it better, the lousy...
> "What was that thing?"
> "Dunno. Probably our killer." He offered her a napkin to
>wipe the blood from her cheek.
TOM: Shouldn't you be CHASING IT?!?!?
>"But it looked like a--"
> Priss caught the word "Velociraptor" before Leon jumped
>through the window onto the sidewalk. "Where are you going?"
MIKE <Leon>: I left the iron on!
> "After it! Call the AD Police! And watch yourself!"
> "Leon, be careful."
> He gave her a wink. "Hey, you're the lucky one. I don't
>have a suit of armor." Then he was off.
TOM: All right! He's not wearing a suit of armor!
MIKE: We can only hope his gun is unloaded.
CROW: He's gone, and so are we.
<They leave>