sib4x02 Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
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8 EXT. HELL CITY - ALLEYWAY - NEXT 8
Stumbling into a trash-heavy alley, the duo dump Chris'
stunned form onto the ground.
Stranger checks to make sure the Gargoyles didn't follow as
Booth crouches before Chris, checking him over.
STRANGER
Okay... that was not in the plan.
BOOTH
Didn't your 'friend' tell you about
those things?
STRANGER
D'you think I'd have led us there
if he did? You just don't go taking
on Gargoyles! Ever!
Chris winces as he tries to sit up, Booth pressing a hand to
his side.
BOOTH
Take it easy. You've got some
broken ribs, probably a concussion.
CHRIS
Doesn't... matter.
(beat)
Can't die... in Hell... can I?
BOOTH
Actually...
STRANGER
Not as such, no. But if your
physical body gets messed up here,
chances are you'll get shipped
straight out to the Inferno.
He steps to the edge of the alley, looking out towards the
tips of the mountain range that encircles the city.
STRANGER (cont'd)
Other side of those rocks is what
we call the Inferno, or Wasteland,
or whatever other poetic term you
feel like using. It's where all the
really bad people go.
BOOTH
Hell's for all kinds of sinners,
but the worst of the worst go
straight to the wasteland and never
come back.
Chris stares at both of them, trying to process this.
CHRIS
So if your body dies in this
city...
STRANGER
(nods)
... then it's a one way ticket to
the proper kind of eternal torment.
Living in this place ain't easy,
but it's better than going out
there.
Chris uses a stack of nearby crates as leverage as he pulls
himself to his feet.
He looks down and realises he's still holding the handle of
the katana - the last fragment of the blade all that's left.
With a frown, he TOSSES it away down the alley and tries to
stand up, fighting back the pain.
CHRIS
Alright, so how else can I get
inside that centre?
Stranger WHISTLES, hands on his head. He's got nothing.
BOOTH
We could get you arrested.
CHRIS
By who?
BOOTH
We have police down here... sort
of. They just break up trouble
before it gets too bad. The Man
likes to keep the status quo, you
know.
STRANGER
Nuh-uh. Too risky. Who's to say he
wouldn't just get thrown out into
the Inferno?
BOOTH
Because he isn't supposed to be
here. They'd want to take him in
for questioning.
(to Chris)
Reckon you can find your friend
once you're inside?
CHRIS
I'm sure I'll think of something.
BOOTH
Good enough.
She smiles at Chris, turning back to Stranger.
BOOTH (cont'd)
Alright, here's something I know
you'll be able to answer.
(beat)
What's the worst bar in this city?
Stranger raises an eyebrow as we CUT TO:
9 INT. SIN CITY - NEXT 9
Stranger pushes open the doors of what looks, quite
literally, like the worst place to get a drink in the whole
of Hell.
An open BAR BRAWL is already in progress when the group
arrive, with parts of the club in FLAMES as things SMASH and
bodies FLY from one side to another.
At the bar, a horde of YELLING customers break into sporadic
FIST FIGHTS to try and get served first, while the harassed
BAR GIRLS literally HIT back to keep their patrons in line.
Booth looks suitably horrified, while Stranger just grins and
lights a fat CIGAR.
STRANGER
Aah... I've missed this place.
Chris steps past them, still limping after his recent
beating, but his eyes soon settle on the best group to start
trouble on.
Four huge BIKER DAEMONS sit round one table, oblivious to the
carnage all around.
A MAN ON FIRE staggers up to them, screaming for help - so
one biker just CLUBS him to the floor, leaving him to burn.
The bikers are setting up their next round of shots, one
pouring liquid from a bottle that SIZZLES as it splashes over
the tabletop.
Chris starts towards them. Booth goes to follow, but Stranger
holds her back, shaking his head.
STRANGER (cont'd)
Maybe we oughtta wait outside.
Booth looks back to Chris, full of concern as she and
Stranger finally leave the bar.
Over with the bikers, they look up as Chris calmly stands
before them. A long moment passes. Silence - even with the
cacophony all around.
BIKER DAEMON #1
Somethin' we can help you with,
pal?
CHRIS
Actually, yes. I have a question.
BIKER DAEMON #2
(snarls)
Take a hike.
CHRIS
Not until you answer me. It won't
take a moment.
The daemons start to MUTTER, spoiling for a fight, but the
closest one to Chris nods towards him.
BIKER DAEMON #1
Alright - what?
CHRIS
It's really very simple. Are you,
or are you not... looking at me?
The daemons swap puzzled glances. Chris rolls his eyes.
CHRIS (cont'd)
That's British for 'do you want a
fight or what?'
The bikers rise as one, towering over Chris by a good foot
and a half each.
BIKER DAEMON #2
This give you your answer?
CHRIS
(grins)
I believe it does.
The nearest two suddenly LUNGE for him, but Chris SLAMS his
palms down against the table:
Which EXPLODES, showering the foursome with hunks of wood and
sending them reeling back!
Chris waits, still grinning, as the daemons recover and turn
their murderous glares on him, and we CUT TO:
10 EXT. HELL CITY - SIN CITY - NEXT 10
Sounds of FIGHTING, SHOUTS and CURSES and the SMASH of
breaking glass ring out from within the bar.
Booth waits with Stranger on the other side of the road, the
heaving mass of pedestrians on both sides making it hard to
look inside the bar.
Until one of the biker daemons SMASHES through the window,
scattering people on the street as his huge frame SLIDES to a
halt in the middle of the road.
Several eager punters actually climb in through the broken
windows, the brawl inside escalating further.
There's a FLASH of bright light inside, and three more people
are BLASTED out through another window.
And that's when the SIRENS can be heard, regular police
sirens with a scratchy, unnerving edge.
The crowds on the street disperse in moments - clearly nobody
wants to be around when the cops show up.
Stranger discretely pulls Both back, just round a corner so
they can observe without being seen.
A few moments later, three jet black POLICE CRUISERS rocket
into frame, SKIDDING to a halt outside the club. A larger
RIOT VAN follows them.
The cruisers are almost shark-like - low to the ground and
bristling with fins, wings and other jagged edges.
Their doors open and dislodge six beefy PIG COPS - humanoid
in shape but with a head like a WARTHOG!
Loading their SHOTGUNS and readying their NIGHTSTICKS, they
pile into the bar as Booth and Stranger watch.
11 INT. SIN CITY - NEXT 11
Inside the club, the sea of bodies from earlier has lightened
considerably - literal piles of stunned boozers lie on the
floor, with more fleeing out the back or windows.
In the middle of the floor is Chris, bloodied and beaten but
still going toe-to-toe with the last two daemon bikers.
For every HIT he takes he lands two back, streaking between
them and fighting as dirty as he can.
One of the Pig Cops fires their shotgun with a loud BOOM,
getting the room's attention.
PIG COP #1
What in the name of the man are you
crazy punks doing? It's not even
Friday night yet!
PIG COP #2
Yeah, did some bulletin go out that
we didn't get sayin' it was happy
hour or something?
Still holding a fistful of each other's clothing, Chris and
his biker opponent slowly release each other.
PIG COP #1
Alright... all a' you, get on the
ground, hands behind your heads!
Everyone left standing in the bar obeys, the cops KICKING
several to the floor anyway.
The cops THWACK a few felons indiscriminately with their
batons, quickly subduing the rioters.
Pig Cop #1 stands over Chris, cocking his massive head to one
side as he peers down.
PIG COP #1 (cont'd)
The heaven are you supposed to be?
Chris just SMILES - his teeth BLOODY - and we CUT TO:
12 EXT. HELL CITY - SIN CITY - NEXT 12
Back with Booth and Stranger as they watch Chris and the
other survivors get SHOVED roughly into the riot van.
STRANGER
I hope you're right about this...
BOOTH
When have I ever been wrong?
STRANGER
Lots of times.
BOOTH
Fewer times than you.
STRANGER
Yeah, but I'm a man. I get a
handicap.
The van doors CLANG shut, and the police convoy gradually
peels away, harsh SIRENS still blazing as they rush off.
Booth and Stranger emerge as the crowds on the streets start
to thicken again, things quickly settling back to normal.
STRANGER (cont'd)
C'mon. We'd better get back to the
bar. Chances are we'll be seeing
him again real soon.
He turns and heads back into the flow of traffic, Booth
pausing to watch the departing van a moment longer before she
follows, and we DISSOLVE TO:
13 INT. DETENTION CENTRE - PROCESSING - NEXT 13
A bustling office suite, with desks partitioned off all over
the wide, spacious floor. Humans, daemons, imps and
everything in between walk, rush, fly and buzz past.
On one of several long benches already jammed full of surly
miscreants - everything from huge daemons to skinny humans -
Chris is PUSHED down into place by the Pig Cop.
His hands are SHACKLED and he looks like he's bene given a
fresh beating, but his expressions remains stoic.
PIG COP #1
Alright, here's the deal. Sit there
and shut up. Keep the line moving.
When you get your turn, answer
everything they ask and then take
your punishment. Nobody cares if
you didn't do it.
Chris keeps quiet, the Pig Cop looking round as the biker
daemons are shoved across another of the benches.
With a last, derisive look at Chris, the Pig Cop marches away
to bark orders at someone else.
Chris looks down the aisle - he's only a few places from the
front. He watches as the net few culprits walk, one at a
time, to a desk and exchange a few words with the grey, weary
looking men behind them.
Each perp then rises and heads to a different door of the
dozens set into both walls, opening it and stepping through.
One is met by FLAMES, one FALLS out of view with a cut off
YELP, another steps into what looks like a DESERT - and then
it's Chris' turn.
He walks up to the nearest desk and casually takes a seat,
keeping cool despite his battered features.
Behind the desk, the overweight and (literally) grey CLERK
looks him up and down with undisguised contempt.
His desktop is covered with files, folders, photos and other
paperwork, which is added to and removed by small, flying
IMPS bringing new files in and taking old files away.
The Clerk rattles away on an archaic keyboard connected to an
equally medieval computer, turning to Chris and pushing a
clipboard across the desk.
CLERK
Name, offence and statement.
CHRIS
(beat)
Don't I get a pen?
The Clerk shoots him another filthy look, pushing a round
container of various PENS over to him.
Chris takes his time selecting one, taking it and almost
putting nib to paper - and then he stops.
CLERK
It's not difficult. Name, offence
and statement.
CHRIS
I'd like to see someone in charge.
CLERK
(blinks)
Excuse me?
CHRIS
I have a request. I need to speak
to your supervisor.
The Clerk lets out a BARK of laughter - and then breaks into
peals of GUFFAWS, holding his belly as he roars.
CLERK
(through laughter)
You... you want... you want what?
CHRIS
I said, I want to speak to somebody
in charge.
CLERK
Like who?
Chris rises, the Clerk's laughter suddenly fading.
CHRIS
That's for you to work out. And to
help, I'll give you an incentive.
Chris lifts his shackled hands - which BURST INTO FLAME! He
PULLS hard at the chains, SNAPPING them.
The Clerk recoils in terror, the scene quickly drawing
attention from the rest of the room.
Chris lets FLAMES leap from his hands and onto the desk, the
Clerk frantically trying to rescue his files as fire licks
across them.
Behind Chris, several Pig Cops are hurrying over, nightsticks
in hand. Chris turns to face them, hands still BLAZING.
CHRIS (cont'd)
I'll ask again - take me to
somebody in charge!
He hurls a FIREBALL towards the cops, who scatter with GRUNTS
as the fireball SMASHES into one of the benches!
Prisoners and clerks alike STAMPEDE to get away, trampling
one another as they flood towards the exits.
ALARMS start to ring, more cops and DAEMON GUARDS bursting
through doors and racing towards Chris.
Chris is soon facing a small army of opponents, encircling
him as he stands in the middle of the inferno he's created.
They try to get close but the flames keep them back, Chris
sending small gouts of flame at anyone who gets too close.
And that's when he hears a deep THUD from behind him, and he
knows exactly what it means.
He turns to see a GARGOYLE step through the flames,
unaffected by the extreme heat even as Chris RAISES the
flames higher around him!
CHRIS (cont'd)
I'm not here to cause trouble! I
just need to speak to anyone who -
WHAM! Chris is CLOCKED by the other Gargoyle, the one that
appeared behind him while he was facing the first.
The flames dies out in seconds, leaving nothing but smoke as
Chris wilts to the floor.
CLERK (O.S.)
Wh-what are w-we supposed to d-do?
PIG COP (O.S.)
Ah, beats me. Guy said he wanted to
see the boss... so let's see what
The Man wants to do with him.
And as several pairs of heavy-set hands GRAB Chris and DRAG
him out of frame, we:
BLACK OUT:
END OF ACT TWO
ACT THREE
FADE IN:
14 INT. DETENTION CENTRE - CELL - NIGHT 14
Chris groggily comes round, finding himself lying face-down
on a 'bed' carved out of dark red rock.
He's in a cell just like the one Twist was held in,
featureless apart from the warped bars and slab of rock.
Rising, he rubs the back of his head, dried blood coming away
as he checks his injuries.
Chris paces to the bars of the cell - they're a long way from
straight but there's still no way he can squeeze through.
He pushes up against the bars to try and look down the
corridor - it seems to stretch off for miles in either
direction, including up.
Stepping back, he plants his feet on the ground and stares
hard at the bars.
CHRIS
(to himself)
Here we go...
Clenching his fists, he brings his arms up and focuses his
power, tiny WISPS of energy sparking off him.
WIND starts to flow round the cell as Chris builds his
strength, the energy forming into two solid globes of BLUE
ELECTRICITY crackling and snapping round his fists.
From outside the cell, he hears CALLS and VOICES raised in
alarm - other inmates hearing what he's up to.
He lets fly, the energy snaking towards the bars and hitting
them with a loud BANG, SPARKS showering back into the cell.
Chris COUGHS, wafting away the smoke as he waits to see if
his escape was successful...
... but it's no good. The bars remain unaffected. Chris sags,
but only for a moment. Still work to do.
The SHOUTS from outside have turned into a more riotous
clamour now, with unseen people RATTLING the cages of their
own bars and STAMPING their feet - either in support or
protest.
As he closes his eyes and charges up for another blast, we
CUT TO:
15 INT. DETENTION CENTRE - WARD 4-D - NIGHT 15
Twist bursts into the suburban house, but pulls up sharply at
the sight before her.
At the foot of the staircase lies a MAN'S BODY, sprawled in a
pool of blood, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
Twist looks away, blinking back fresh tears. She POUNDS her
fist against the wall.
Another SCREAM from upstairs gets her attention, and Twist
pulls herself back to action.
She steps over the man's body, staring at it for a long beat
before racing up the stairs, and we CUT TO:
16 INT. DETENTION CENTRE - CELL - NIGHT 16
Back with Chris, with BLISTERS all over his hands from the
continued bolts of magic he's hurling around.
SMOKE fills the cell, with SPARKS zinging from the bars as
they recover from his last attack.
For his efforts, the bars are looking pretty damaged by now -
scorched and buckled in places, he's not far from making a
big enough gap to get through.
Outside the cell, things are escalating nicely - as well as
various CLANGS and CRASHES as the other prisoners attack
their cells with anything to hand, DEBRIS thrown from inside
the various cells is building up outside.
Chris raises his fists again, but before he can conjure
another burst an ALARM starts to sound - his efforts have
finally been noticed!
The alarm pushes the rioting prisoners into a further frenzy,
with the noise outside equal to that of several packed
football stadiums.
Chris summons another burst of energy, but his hands are
SHAKING now - he's pushed himself too far, and he struggles
to hang onto the electricity.
He clenches his teeth and tries to focus, stretching his
hands out towards the cell - but the energy SNAPS away from
him too early!
It hits the cell bars and BLASTS out in several directions,
bolts lancing out into the corridor as well as straight back
at Chris!
He ducks and shields himself, the energy SPARKING off every
surface as it ricochets all around him.
After a few moments it's died down, and Chris slowly looks
up...
... and a smoking HOLE has been burned through the bars,
finally enough for him to slip through!
17 INT. DETENTION CENTRE - CELL BLOCK - NEXT 17
And slip through he does, BURNING himself on the white hot
bars. Luckily, he's too harried to care right now.
RUNNING FEET from several directions indicates a slew of
Guard Daemons coming his way.
Chris steps out - he's in a long, scarlet corridor with cells
carved into the wall, stretching upwards and sideways into
the distance.
Walkways, mezzanine balconies and ladders give access to the
higher levels - and it's down these that the teams of GUARDS
are now descending!
GUARD DAEMON
Stop! Don't move!
The rowdy prisoners are still making plenty of racket, and
Chris quickly looks round for anything he can use.
He spies a GUARD STATION on the other side of several barred
gates, GUARDS hurrying towards it:
18 INT. DETENTION CENTRE - GUARD STATION - CONTINUOUS 18
Chris gets there first, ready as the gates slide back and the
daemons spill through.
He DROP-KICKS the first and spins into the next, his
blistered hands still deadly as he attacks.
GRABBING one Guard to spin him round into another, Chris
CLOTHESLINES the next before taking a PUNCH from the last.
Behind him, another DOZEN GUARDS have reached his level and
are racing towards him.
Chris SHOVES his way into the Guard Station, another corridor
stretching out beyond it.
He quickly turns and YANKS a lever to slide the barred gates -
seconds before the rest of the Guards reach it!
They HAMMER on the door as Chris searches round - finding
what he wanted.
He pulls on a lever marked 'Master Cell Release - Ground
Level,' having to heave against the heavy weight.
Behind him, a Guard starts to rise - but Chris quickly SNAP
KICKS the daemon to drop him again.
With a last push, he CRANKS the lever all the way open - and
a new, deeper ALARM starts to sound.
19 INT. DETENTION CENTRE - CELL BLOCK - CONTINUOUS 19
Back in the cell block, the various bars sealing the cells on
the bottom floor all start to crank back.
The Guards turn, awful realisation dawning as the first few
inmates burst from their cells.
Already whipped up into a frenzy, the sight of the Guards
spurs them on further, and with a mighty ROAR they all come
pouring out!
Fat ones, skinny ones, tough ones and inhuman ones - all
shapes and sizes, but all with one thought on their minds.
20 INT. DETENTION CENTRE - GUARD STATION - CONTINUOUS 20
Chris backs away as the tidal wave of freed prisoners SLAMS
into the Guards, squashing them against the station's gates.
Some try to fight back, some are trampled, but all of them
are far too busy to pay any attention to Chris now.
He ducks to swipe a roll of KEYS and some ACCESS CARDS from
one downed Guard, quickly fleeing the scene.
21 INT. DETENTION CENTRE - CORRIDOR - NEXT 21
Racing down another crimson hallway, the alarms may still be
ringing but Chris is free from any opposition so far:
That is, until two GUARDS turn a corner ahead, skidding to a
halt when they see him!
GUARD DAEMON #1
Alright, punk, I don't know how you
got out...
Chris puts his head down and CHARGES into them, but the heavy
set daemons aren't moved that easily.
One SHOVES him back as the other draws a huge, curved SWORD,
forcing Chris to roll for cover as he HACKS down!
Chris gets to his feet, the sounds of the chaos he left
behind filtering round to them.
CHRIS
If you two are interested, I think
your colleagues could use a little
help.
GUARD DAEMON #2
What'd you do? Open the cells or
something?
Chris GRINS - and Guard #2's yellow eyes BULGE in horror.
GUARD DAEMON #2 (cont'd)
Unholy... Nozoki, c'mon! We gotta
do something!
GUARD DAEMON #1
We take this guy down. That's
'doing something.'
Daemon #1 advances on Chris, but this time he's ready.
As the guard charges, Chris neatly hops up towards the wall,
PUSHING OFF with one foot to get high in the air.
He STAMPS down on the daemon's wide head, FLIPPING over and
landing a BOOT right into the second's jaw!
Quickly grabbing the second's sword, Chris turns and SHOVES
the stunned daemon to the floor, SLASHING his cutlass across
#2's legs in one fluid motion.
Both daemons hit the deck, and Chris tears on, leaving them
and their cries of pain behind.
22 INT. DETENTION CENTRE - CHAMBER - NEXT 22
Chris bursts through a pair of security doors into a wider,
reception-like area, with smaller DAEMONS milling around.
They're agitated, the ringing alarms having brought them out
of the safety of their offices - so when the sword-toting
Chris bounds up to the nearest pair, they shrink in fear.
CHRIS
Where is she? Where's Twist
McFadden?
OFFICE DAEMON
W-w-what?
CHRIS
I need to know where you're keeping
her!
He GRABS a handful of the daemon's drab shirt, pulling him
close and raising the sword.
CHRIS (cont'd)
Now!
OFFICE DAEMON #2
Ad-admissions desk!
(points)
Over there!
Chris looks - as the other frightened daemons scatter, his
path is clear to a large DESK on the far side of the chamber.
CHRIS
Thank you.
He DROPS the cringing daemon, racing up to the desk and
BARGING others out of his path.
On the other side of the chamber, more doors FLY OPEN as both
Guards and PIG COPS enter, the Pig Cops brandishing huge
SHOTGUNS.
Chris slides to a stop before the desk, handily signposted
'Admissions,' but there's nobody behind it.
A room behind the desk itself is filled with rows and rows of
SHELVES, each one crammed to bursting with folders, box files
and even stone tablets.
Chris VAULTS the desk and disappears into the archive, just
as the Pig Cops and Guards clatter towards him.
One rounds on the two Office Daemons Chris grabbed.
PIG COP
(snarls)
Which way? Where'd he go?
The worker can only point and make a pathetic SQUEAK, the Cop
PUSHING past him as he barrels towards the desk.
23 INT. DETENTION CENTRE - ADMISSIONS ARCHIVE - NEXT 23
Chris tears down the narrow aisle, the shelves seeming to
reach into infinity both before him and above him on both
sides.
They zig-zag, criss-cross and turn at all angles, making the
whole archive into a labyrinth of forgotten paperwork.
He sees a sign marked 'De - Dh' and knows he's got some way
to go.
AT THE ENTRANCE, the cluster of Guards and Cops pour through
the narrow opening.
PIG COP
Split up! Each of you, take an
aisle. You get a clean shot...
He loads his shotgun with a load CLUNK-CLICK.
PIG COP (cont'd)
... go for the head.
The group disperse, two to each aisle.
BACK WITH CHRIS as he checks the sign he's speeding towards -
'Le - Li.' Getting closer.
He turns one corner - and finds a Pig Cop levelling a shotgun
at him from a few rows away!
Chris DUCKS - and a BLAST chews a huge chunk out of the shelf
just by his head!
He darts round another corner, but now two Guards are closing
in on him from behind.
DAEMON GUARD #1
Get back here!
DAEMON GUARD #2
There's nowhere to go! We got you
surrounded!
They quickly gain on him, forcing Chris to spin and face
them, brandishing his stolen cutlass.
In the narrow aisle, they can only attack one at a time,
Chris locking swords with the first.
Chris CLASHES a few blows with the Guard before grabbing one
of the heavy BOXES on the nearest shelf, PULLING it down.
DAEMON GUARD #1
What the -
It dislodges several more, reams of decaying PAPER spilling
out and burying the Guard.
DAEMON GUARD #1 (cont'd)
(cowering)
Ack!
Chris breaks and runs, leaving the second Guard to fight his
way over the growing mountain of files.
DAEMON GUARD #2
Hey! Stop! You... gah!
He passes another sign 'Ma - Mc.' He's almost there. Slowing,
he starts checking the names on each box, looking for the one
marked 'McFadden.'
But there are a damn lot of boxes.
He reaches for one - and another SHOTGUN BLAST slams into the
shelf, spraying him with fragments and gouging a deep gash
along his hand.
PIG COP (O.S.)
I got him! Down here!
Chris drops to one knee and sends a FIREBALL back down the
aisle, but his magic is almost dry for the day - the
'fireball' is barely bigger than a fist.
PIG COP (O.S.) (cont'd)
(laughs)
That all you got, wormbait?
He pushes on, pulling box after box from the shelf to build
up a litter of obstacles behind him.
And then, there it is.
'McFadden, Twist Sophia. 02-05-79 - 06-11-99'
Chris heaves the surprisingly heavy box down, its lid opening
and dumping its contents all around him.
Chris drops and frantically sorts through the records,
looking for anything to tell him where Twist is being held.
Another SHOTGUN BLAST punches a hole inches from his head,
but he's focused on his search now.
PIG COP (O.S.) (cont'd)
This way!
He can hear RUNNING FEET and SHOUTS as the scattered pursuers
start to close the net - he's almost out of time.
Finally, he finds something - the most recent document in the
folder, dated just yesterday. It gives Twist's cell number.
Chris is off, shoving the paper into his jacket - just as a
Pig Cop rounds the corner and raises his shotgun!
PIG COP (O.S.) (cont'd)
Freeze!
The Cop FIRES, the blast filling the screen with light and
forcing a CUT TO:
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