Original subtitles

In the world of tomorrow.

This drama is a duplicate.

Dimensionalized from virtual reality to reality.

The line between reality and virtual reality is about to ignite.

And only one man can stop it. He's a future cop. Up against an opponent

who's part human, part cyberpunk.

You're a killer.

I have friends trapped in your mainframe prison. Get them out. All the killers

from virtual reality. He's going to bring them back to life.

Virtual combat.

In it lies a world of information worth dying for.

Starring kickboxing champion Don the Dragon Wilson and Athena Massey. Virtual

combat. The future will blow you away.

You only last a moment.

There's no plan.

That's that.

One dollar for the gas, please.

Talking all this trash about a new life, new values. Now one night stand and

boom, changes everything.

Sometimes I want to fall in love.

I think I can get at it.

I want

to be

the best in your life.

I used to think that there were these good people.

But I learned that everybody just screws everybody else.

I'm doing some work. Maybe I can get you in on it. What are you asking? I'm

asking, did you see any quarters in the cash box?

What do you do, raid a laundromat? And I'm not a thief!

$600 would help me out of my situation.

What are you going to do? Are you going to put us out on the streets?

A no -good, small -time hustler.

I don't know why I bother with you.

This is your last chance.

Good job.

It comes at you from an angle.

Not only when you least expect it, but when you don't even want it anymore.

Everybody ready?

Concentrate.

Into the dimension between good and evil, a primal force is unleashed.

What started as an innocent game soon became an explosion of fear and light.

A demon from the past lies waiting beneath a small suburban town.

People have been disappearing.

People don't just faint.

From the depths of the earth emerges a living

nightmare.

Look at this place.

We gotta get out of here.

If we don't find a way out within the next 12 hours, someone will come and get

us. Don't they know we're down here?

This is no fairy tale.

You've seen me.

I saw her, and right away I knew what she was all about.

I am Joanna Coles, internationally renowned author.

I'm a best -selling author, and renowned, if that's a word, is some sort

symbol. See, I'm an exhibitionist.

She likes to be watched.

I watched her.

It feeds me.

To be seen for me is to live.

Besides, it is my living.

And this is my story.

Animal Instincts.

The world according to a woman who likes, who lives to be watched.

Millions of copies sold.

Who knows how many eyes are watching me now?

Know this.

I'm watching.

That is what I do.

In fact, between my talk show appearances and the way I get written up

tabloids and gossip columns, I feel a lot of the time.

Like the whole world is watching me.

Some of us more intently than others.

Sometimes I like the feeling of every eye on earth turned toward me.

And other times, I guess I love it.

Honesty becomes Miss Coles.

It didn't always.

At the very least, my wicked ways have made for some interesting stories.

Orlando and the pool table.

That story I know well.

Every eye in the house was on Joanna Coles that night.

With good goddamn reason.

Present among the admiring throng was Alex Savage.

The big shot hoo -ha music producer and media manipulator.

That would be me.

I really enjoy shit pits like that bar.

Never really know what may go down.

Fuck, some well -to -do broad might happen to walk by in search of her own

adventure and get nailed by the local football stud and then go on to write a

book about it.

Trust me.

All things are possible.

I've seen it.

The incident with Orlando and the pool table is what convinced me that anything

in this life is possible.

I knew what to expect from the bar that night, but I didn't know as if I could

rise to that sort of challenge.

I loved knowing that I was able to overcome my inhibitions.

It was around that time I first read the incredible story of Mr. Rise to

Vacation himself, Alex Savage.

Alex Savage, for the less hip among you, is the foremost Renaissance man in

contemporary music.

Savage produced records and became well -known for reinventing the images and

careers of rock stars and rappers who were either washed up or considered a

from the get -go.

And dig this.

Alex Savage was a world -class knife thrower.

And one more thing.

Alex Savage was blind.

Savage wasn't always blind. It happened by accident.

That's how I first heard his name. There had been some gruesome mishap in his

studio or something.

But he vowed to come back, to finish the record he was working on and to

continue throwing knives.

And he did just that.

What a kick I got from reading about Savage's recovery.

It was my number one source of strength as I was writing Animal Instincts.

I told Savage as much on a cassette I sent him along with a copy of the book.

I figured he'd never get either of them.

I figured pretty wrong.

Hello, I'm calling for Joanna Coles. My name is Alex Savage.

You sent me a package.

It's very much appreciated.

Listen, I'm having a little party tomorrow. I really wish you'd come.

Details are included in the invitation that was delivered to your residence

afternoon.

Do come.

I had to take a dip after that news.

I had to cool off.

The cool water heats me up, too.

Alex Savage invited me to his party. It was a major event in my already eventful

life. Maybe Savage knew that, maybe he didn't.

Come tomorrow, he'd be aware of the impact of our paths crossing for sure.

Who was I to Savage anyway?

Some freak on a talk show?

Some trinket to add to his human collection?

What was he looking for?

What was I looking for?

A truly cool thing to do would be to blow Savage off.

Forget his party.

Forget him.

But that's not my style.

I'd rather show up and blow him away.

Fame, fortune, well, let's say security, pleasure, and power.

I've got them all.

I earned them all.

I lived too long and too hard not to appreciate the finer things and to

them.

Savage apparently is a man of taste as well.

I had lived a rich existence these past few years.

If Alex Savage were going to open my eyes to some radical new reality, he had

his work cut out for him.

Who knows?

He seemed a man capable of miracle.

Alex Savage was a winner.

And he was going to be my prize.

As I slept last night, I wondered why Alex Savage wanted me to come to his

in the first place.

He was charmed by my work. Ha.

Bullshit.

Alex Savage was a player.

A major player.

What was he playing me for?

How could he use me?

How was he using me already?

What was in it for him?

Well, I'll look my best for a blind man and piece this puzzle together.

Alex Savage may actually be blind to what he's inviting into his life by

inviting me to this get -together.

I'll give him an eye -opener.

I must admit that I didn't expect quite the extraordinary level of visual

competition.

I'm fierce in my pursuit of, how to put it, the big show.

Now watch me show them how it's really done.

Look at this place.

What does one say?

Nice digs. Quite a spread.

I'll think of something.

There was so much to see in this blind man's estate.

Odd.

Or is the proper word eccentric?

Ah.

My darling, you smell absolutely consumable.

But I'm afraid my senses are trained upon one subject alone.

Joanna Cole.

Something tells me Joanna celebrates among us today.

Not Joanna.

But very lovely, I'm sure.

Joanna?

Far from a disappointment, I trust.

Thank you.

I

was

right.

Joanna is here.

In the flesh.

You're a very gifted man.

You're a pretty gifted woman, Joanna.

That's why behind curtain number one, I give you this.

People, people, people, people, friends.

The entire purpose of this little soiree was to leave an indelible impression on

Joanna's heart.

I also wanted to see how many of these psychopathic ass -kissers I could get to

wake up at five in the morning.

Well, mingle!

Let's go! It's a party!

Just don't steal anything.

Joanne, I'm glad you could make it.

Let's get a drink.

Pretty neat trick, this shit with the knives, huh?

Let me tell you an even neater trick.

Convincing the entire world that you're a fucking blind man.

That is correct.

I can see.

I can see.

I am in fact a voyeur.

The voyeur.

I like to watch.

I live to watch.

You'd be amazed at what people will allow you to see when they think you

see them at all.

Especially the female species.

Not our Miss Coles, however.

Joanna never, ever let her guard down.

Joanna Coles was a shark.

That is a sound I can recognize.

I can also recognize what's going on with your heart rate, Joanna.

What makes you so uncomfortable, Miss World Class Exhibitionist

Mademoiselle?

Certainly not a little nudity or public displays.

of affection.

You're not embarrassed by this little exhibit, Joanna.

You are frustrated.

Who's going to watch Joanna in surroundings like this?

Relax.

Today,

Joanna will be the watcher.

A change would be nice.

Is this decadence?

As in California millionaire rock and roll decadence?

What difference did it make?

It was an eyeful.

It was also a road I'd been down, so to speak, before, sort of.

I am no stranger to the illicit thrill of the couple that becomes a triple.

I know firsthand the electrifying pleasure of female flesh on female

But it was never like this.

Here I sat on the sidelines.

But I was still very much a participant.

It was all I could do not to turn this threesome into a foursome by four.

But I felt a new kind of power in just sitting and watching.

Forcing into submission my every impulse to show off.

He had no idea.

I could have commanded the attention of every fucker in that house with a bat of

my eyes.

I chose not to.

I played along.

But Savage did too.

Uh -huh.

These little orgies are all fun and good until someone gets hurt.

Joanna.

Well, I have definitely been the center of attention long enough.

Tonight, anyway.

It's your turn, Joanna.

What do you want to know?

The cure for blindness.

Well, actually, a description of what you look like should suffice.

Didn't you get a decent idea earlier with your hands?

Decent. That's not the word.

I'd like your word.

Well, I'm five foot six, light brown hair, blue eyes.

Vital statistics aren't exactly what I had in mind, Joanna.

Tell me, how does the...

Ultimate exhibitionist.

Display herself for public view.

I demand attention.

What kind of attention?

It doesn't matter just so long as it's mine.

Well, you have my attention.

Undivided.

What will you do with it?

Who are you, Joanna Cole?

What do you see?

I don't know.

That's why I need to be watched.

The only sense I have of myself is what I gather from those who see me.

Even then, I'm not so sure I like the way it looks.

It's like I'm painting a picture I can't see.

Because my soul is the canvas.

Well, I can't tell you what I see.

but I can show you what I feel.

Tears, tears be used.

Tears as bogus as my blindness.

Nice move.

Ultimately ineffective, but a charming maneuver nonetheless.

Just describe to me what you're looking for and I'll check it out.

Thank you.

You know, I'm going to need you, Joanna.

I just signed on a new client.

Who?

This person's identity, at least at this juncture, really isn't pertinent.

This new idea that I'm working on is total reinvention.

Like when you have a piece of granite and you very meticulously remove all the

pieces of all that is not human.

But nothing, remember, is carved in stone forever.

Any mishap can be salvaged. Any triumph can be undone.

And what are we doing here, dear Al?

Just looking around.

Tell me, what do you see?

What do you mean, what I see?

I see a bunch of statues.

Gnomes. Animals.

Naked ladies.

Ah.

All very lovely things.

I see you, too.

And me.

We look like we belong together.

Then you see my point.

Huh.

Take a look at this.

Her tit.

How do her tits look?

Perfect.

They look perfect.

But they're not perfect.

They're hard, cold, man -made.

Not even functional.

They belong to a statue, Alex.

In that context, they function perfectly.

And how do we function?

Me, you, us?

Why don't you have a seat?

Well, that depends on the context.

Ah.

Well, how about this context?

Two people meet. I mean, they'll never admit this, but they've been searching.

Let's say for each other.

Now, let's say that these searchers are you and me.

Let's say even further that you are a publicity -whoring book writer, while I

naturally am a... publicity -pimping music producer.

And knife -thrower.

Ah, lest we forget.

Alex was a charmer.

God, a lethal charmer.

I danced for him as much as for myself that day in the statue garden.

I wondered if he knew I was doing it.

I wondered if he knew why I was doing it.

Why these compulsions?

What drove us?

It was all a matter of context.

I think we fit each other very well, Joanna.

In fact, perfectly.

In that context?

Quite perfectly.

You know, I put on a rerun of that ridiculous Jennifer Nixon show on TV

You were the guest.

Tacky. Darling, very tacky.

The show. I mean, you were, well, you were fabulous.

Objected class where you could.

Even though you had to go and tell that pool table story, that...

Anyway, I'm sure that the appearance sold a lot of books for you.

That's great.

Also great is that I signed on to produce the next album for the number

star in the world today.

So, that's your new project.

I didn't say that.

What I am saying is that you and I both played...

ourselves in specific situations for specific results.

We also bring others into our situations for very similar reasons.

We want intrigue. We want action.

The high theater of real life.

What I'm saying is that we're the same creature, Joanna.

What I'm saying is that I need you very much.

You're my client, Joanna.

And I'm your servant.

My big project is our future.

Together.

Be with me.

Stay with me.

Do with me.

Everything.

That's what I'm saying.

Oh, baby, I need you too. You have to know that.

I need us.

Come on, let's get out of here.

Wait here a minute and I'll go get the car.

Bravo, gentlemen.

Bravissimo.

That... Went exactly as planned.

And in no small part, I must say, to your extraordinary thespian skills.

Well, uh... Please.

First, you're going to be paid.

Huh? Something for you?

Huh?

Y 'all learned something really valuable here today, boys.

And that is that I can play Joanna Coles like a goddamn grand piano.

Of course, as long as she feels that that's how she's playing me.

Thanks again, boys.

Rich weirdos. Shut up.

Hey, good.

This was a game, after all.

See, that's what happens when boredom sets in.

People play games. They gossip. They set each other up to fail or succeed.

Rest assured that Joanna Coles was bored.

Sure, the crack of dawn party I threw was a real hoot, and she enjoyed that

first month or so that we dated because it was something new.

She thought I was blind, for Christ's sake.

But new gets old very fast.

That's when life gets boring.

Where games come from.

Just so long as the key player feels like he's pulling some cosmic strings.

But everybody thinks he's the key player.

Especially when he's a she.

The boundaries of the game between Joanna and myself changed quickly.

I asked her to move in with me.

I would build the ultimate rock and roll album while she wrote the great

American dirty book.

Joanna was rather late on delivering animal instincts, and she was very

about it.

The players changed in our little rondelette as well.

Enter pretty boy rock star Trick Willie.

Trick Willie was frequently compared to the young Elvis Presley in regard to his

electrifying, all -encompassing sexual presence.

Trick had grown tired of creating pop music. He sought my services in helping

him forge art.

I was jealous, that's all.

Jealous of the attention being lavished on Alex from his deal with Trick Willie,

and jealous of the ease with which he seemed to work.

My writer's block was so severe I became delusional.

Then Trick entered the picture, and I didn't know which end was up.

I wanted to humiliate a blind man, as it were.

What could I expect when the most fuckable man alive was suddenly in my

room?

You can do a little hand gliding up here.

I think that's her right here now.

Oh!

Joanna Coles.

Trick Willie.

My pleasure, Mr. Willie.

You can cut the Mr. crap.

It's just trick.

You don't have to worry about calling him anything for the next few hours.

We in the studio are reinventing sound as human beings have come to understand

it.

There they were, the two masters at work.

In the meantime, I was stuck with a king hell nightmare of writer's block.

I was stuck, period.

Alex could be so smug.

I suppose I loved him and I didn't want to hurt him.

It's more like I wanted to fix him.

And then Trick.

He looked so possessed by his music.

I could break that spell.

And I could cast a few spells of my own.

Hold on a minute Alex.

I gotta make a bit of an adjustment here.

Yeah, okay

Okay, sir.

Hurry up. Let's rock this thing.

Cut the tape fast.

Cut the tape!

This guitar part, it's not making it.

Yeah, agreed.

Well, why don't you give me a little time to work it out?

Uh, how little is a little?

Oh, I don't know.

About an hour or so.

Why don't you go jerk yourself off or something?

Well, that's a very colorful trick.

Uh, I'll be upstairs at the piano.

Joanna? Yeah, babe, what's up?

Mr. Willie, the master craftsman, requires

a little private time.

Don't we all?

Trick Willy.

There was some trickery involved in that liaison, but it was hardly on the part

of the horny rocker boy.

God, what an eyeful.

Joanna Coles was as hooked on exhibitionism as the smoker is to

alcoholic is to a drink.

She thought solace in a blind man.

That morning in the kitchen provided her with a taste of what she so badly

needed.

Then Trick Willie gave her exactly the fix she ached for.

We all have our addictions.

My junk is reality.

Manipulating it.

Making reality bend and work for me. My pawns varied.

In business, I manipulated the meat.

that the players were always changing.

Shane Hooligan was an Irish -American rapper.

Charismatic, not too bright.

I wanted to work with him.

For all his tough -guy bravado, Hooligan was essentially an innocent.

Especially when compared to a viper like Trick Willie.

And for that matter, Joanna Coles.

I figured they'd make for a hell of a mix.

So this is your new boy, huh?

Mr. Shane Hooligan.

He's due any minute.

I just hope he can stomach my corned beef and cabbage.

What do you like about this guy? I heard his music. It's kind of plain.

Won't be when I get finished with it.

It's interesting with this kid, you know?

It's like there's this...

Overpowering need for approval.

Or attention, anyway.

You can hear it in his voice.

Potential for death, right?

Figured I'd just have to blow his mind a little.

You probably know what I'm talking about.

Yes, I know what it's like to need attention.

Mr. Shane.

Yo, Alex.

How you doing? It's Alex.

I'm going to buzz you in, okay?

Go straight, hard right. We'll meet you in the kitchen.

Yo, yo, yo, Alex.

What's up,

man? How you doing? It's always a pleasure.

Ah, let me introduce to you the cheap pleasure in my life, Joanna Coles.

How you doing, lady?

Tell me, is your man's cooking gonna kill me or what? Uh, hey.

No dissing the blind, yeah. Right, honey?

Cole, let's eat up. It's getting cold.

So, yo, Alex.

I pulled a dope sample to you from the record, man, from all these fly movies,

boy. I mean, I got shit like, uh, New Wave Hookers, L 'Amour, The Lady,

Dracula.

You had the race in 2001, didn't you?

Well, that's great.

That's really cool. I mean, you've done your homework.

I've been thinking, Shane, I mean, there's a whole new direction that I

take for the album.

Sampling.

Yeah, I just... Like sampling little bits of movies, you know, television,

that matter, but in equal proportion, of course, to the musical snippets that we

hold.

You know, I want it louder.

You know, I mean, I want it more operatic, more commentary.

Kind of a raw sense of, you know, emotion.

I mean, I also personally throw in a sense of history, of course, and humor.

Funny that Mr. Hooligan would be discussing sampling when our boy Shane

feel free to sample my live -in lover.

Well, it was offered to him, after all.

I'm not a jealous man, far from it, but I am a sane man.

Last I checked.

This notion of sampling simply blows me away.

Say you sample, you're a thief.

That's all.

You cop wholesale that which belongs to others.

Blatantly.

Arrogantly. For selfish purposes.

Without remorse.

But you're just sampling, just helping yourself to a smidge.

A sort of a taste.

It's amazing what one let us get away with these days.

But just the slightest switch in terminology.

Shane Hooligan diving so easily and so deep into Joanna's clutches may have

rattled the green -eyed monster within me, but not simply because he was

my best girl.

It was more Shane's unpredictability.

I expected him to crumble under Joanna's onslaught. He didn't.

Rather, he reacted as Joanna anticipated.

He went for it.

I wanted to see Joanna hurt.

Rejected.

Numbed by failure.

It was time for it.

Part of my plan.

I was disappointed.

Joanna and Shane Hooligan certainly weren't.

No, they would be, but for the time being, they sizzled.

And I fumed.

Look at him.

Partake of my hospitality and enjoy, Mr.

Hooligan.

Dig in.

What's mine is yours.

Eat up.

Motherfucker.

Joanna Coles beat me this round.

Fully for her.

I'll spare blah, blah, blah.

I'm not hungry right now. I think I'll get something later.

So, Alex, if you're so blind, how can you cook like this?

Well, it's actually just a matter of ingredients.

As long as no one fucks around with me, and I always find out if they do,

everything works out fine.

Well, you guys don't think the food tastes funny, do you?

No, no, it's cool.

Well, then eat up, boy!

Then we'll really get around to blowing your mind.

So what did I learn?

Braggart hooligan and show -off Joanna got on famously.

Surprise, surprise.

I was surprised at how instantly I clicked with Shane Hooligan.

Then I was even more surprised when Alex suddenly pulled out of the deal to

produce Shane's record.

I remember thinking, why is Alex playing around?

It was all a game.

I mean, was this all some sort of prank?

It was all a game.

I mean, was Alex toying with me? Was this some sort of fucking game?

And who exactly were the players?

And what was the prize?

It was all a fucking game.

The game was how far will you go? The rules were deception.

The prize was enlightenment.

Fucking enlightenment.

The road to it grew ever more.

Is that... What's the matter with you?

She's the goddamn matter.

What, the girl?

What's your name, honey?

Lolly.

Lolly is the matter?

Yes, Lolly is the matter. Why don't you ask Lolly her last name, Savage?

What exactly is your problem with Lollipop?

Rick Willy?

My problem is my whole life has been about Lollipop.

I mean, not her exactly, of course, but everything she represents.

Tip thrills and teenage bullshit.

I don't mean to wig out in the middle of a session, Savage, but looking at her

stirs up some nasty shit inside of me.

Is that right?

Like what?

Like... The whole bloody reason I signed with you in the first place. Mr.

Savage, Mr. Rock and Roll Intellectual. You were supposed to bring some depth to

my music and hopefully my life. But instead, here we are and all I ever do

lollipop.

Well, has it ever occurred to you, Trick Willie, Mr. Goddamn

Rock and Roll Pomposity, that there is absolutely nothing wrong with the...

lollipops of this world, and perhaps it is truly you that it is all about.

As far as bringing depth to your work, trust me, I have.

I can only intensify what's already there.

Do you have any idea what that is?

Don't, don't you fucking say what I think you're gonna say. Cheap thrill and

teenage bullshit!

Put very clearly and simply just for you, Trick.

Lolli -fucking -pop!

Lolli -lolli -lollipop.

Lolly was to be the bridge between my libido and my conscience.

Lolly was Trick Willie's fuck du jour that afternoon, and I believed my

salvation.

Lolly made me wonder if there wasn't a way I could truly share my

exhibitionistic side with Alex.

Perhaps I could make him see, after all.

Perhaps Alex could play along.

Don't give me that horse shit, Trick!

You do realize that you were this fucking close to oblivion when you first

signed with me.

Have you just listened to what I had to say and accept what you are?

Maybe we could get down to doing a little bit of business.

Except this, Savage. Fuck you.

Jeez, enough. You sound like children.

You nearly frightened this poor little thing half to death.

Well, then you save her.

You know, I think you saved me by default, Savage. It's all bullshit. I'm

bullshit. You're bullshit.

Mr. Savage, if you want to release my album, feel free. It's all bullshit.

And if the two of you want to fuck little Miss Lollipop, feel free.

Me, I'm going to a bullshit island with Brando.

I'll send you a postcard.

I'll give you my best. Get the fuck out!

God damn it!

Take it easy, Alex. Pay no attention to his bullshit.

And don't you fret either.

You watch, so I'll turn out for the best.

Let's get you cleaned up, sweetie.

Meet me in the upstairs bathroom.

Take this money and then don't do anything.

Just stay where you are and silently watch what happens. That's what I'm

you to do.

And don't you worry, either. We'll get you all cleaned up, okay?

No idea.

I'm some big pile of crap.

Let's go over to these people. We have no idea.

Can we have a beer?

Please back and enjoy the show.

Alex, if only you could drink her in.

She's beautiful, just beautiful.

Touch her.

Crude the delicate surface of her skin.

Feel the heat.

Feel her youth.

I feel her beauty.

Lollipop was the sweet one.

I was never like her.

I've always been more poison ivy.

What a sight.

Oblivious innocence in the midst of hard sin.

Delicious sin.

Lollipop was pure sugar.

I figured that Savage needed a dollop of sweetness and light at this stage.

God, politics, maneuvers, plotting.

It was barely time to step back and see where all this was heading.

I was operating on pure instinct.

Animal instincts, if you will.

And as our rendezvous with Miss Lollipop played out, a new force took over.

All -powerful arousal.

Oh, I have never in my wicked life been so delectably, indescribably, so

wickedly turned on.

There comes a time when the game plays the players.

It's a good time.

All right, look.

I'm the voyeur extraordinaire and whatnot, but this beat all.

These chicks thought I was blind.

They offered me a glimpse into the way women behave when the lights are out and

the heat is off them.

The whole point of my blindness act is to make moments like this happen.

Sex is just icing, really.

Between Joanna's display for the plumber and the sweet deal those cleaning

ladies had going, nobody took better care of their manual labors than me.

Something else became clear.

Joanna was on to me.

Not that I could see, but just that I was up to something.

It's time to yep the ante.

Enter notorious gangster rapper Stone Chill.

Do you have any idea what kind of madman this Stone Chill is?

Listen to this.

In the years since Chill's debut album, Rape Yo Bitch, first appeared on the

charts, he has been arrested four times on weapons charges, six times for

assault, twice for rape, both of which were settled out of court, and a

conspiracy to murder rap is still pending.

This after a youth of almost constant juvenile incarceration.

That is all such publicity.

Hey, look what Stone Chill's competing against.

Tupac Shakur, sex offender.

Snoop Doggy Dogg allegedly mixed up in murder, too.

Stone Chill has set out to knock him all off the block, so he's gonna have to

knock a few blocks off.

You mean like the poor sap who produced his last album?

Alex, if you could see how badly beaten this poor man is.

It says here...

that after Chill was through giving Albini multiple concussions, he

rape Albini's wife.

Why do you want to work with this kind of scum?

Do you have any idea how prone I am?

Here's the fact.

Stone Chill's last album flopped, okay? He blames it on the production.

That's why he got a little rough with Mr. Albini, who you see in your

there. It's also why his management sought me out.

I don't produce flops.

Come on, sweetheart, come on.

Stone Chill has got to really, really be pissed off before he does any real

damage.

Like those two... Like those... Sorry, like those two cops that he shot.

Shot those two cops?

Alex, tell me you're kidding.

Okay, I'm kidding.

What are you thinking?

Why do you want to work with such inhumane garbage?

Because Stone Chill doesn't deny who he really is.

Not like that deluded prick Willie or half these other fuckers who actually

struggle against who they really are.

God, the futility.

Today, humanity puts half as much effort into utilizing what it truly is as

opposed to denying it.

That'll be the day we all evolve into angels.

And that'll be the fucking day.

But why would you want to put a man like that in such close proximity to me?

Just be yourself.

Stone shall frighten me to no end.

Mostly I was afraid for the obvious fact that he was a violent, irrational man

and who knew what might set him off.

And I was afraid of what he might set off within me.

I expected the worst, and I was right to do so.

How do I look?

Smashing. How do I smell?

Ah, exquisite.

But how about the decorations?

How do they look?

Very, very African.

That is what you wanted, isn't it?

Oh, absolutely.

Return to Africa.

That's the theme I'm going to pitch for Chill's new album.

It's also, I'm sure, but a letter.

close -minded people wish Jill would actually do.

Anyway, I hope these surroundings will entice him.

They're here. I'll buzz them in the gate.

I'll await them at the door.

Joe, man.

Welcome.

Mr. Savage.

Mr. Savage, so nice to meet you in person.

I'm Clay Majors, Mr. Chill's business manager. What the fuck is this, man?

What the fuck is this, huh?

Chill, I'm gonna take you back to Africa.

Oh, no, he doesn't take you back.

What the fuck is he talking about? No, no, no, Chill, I...

That's what I've been trying to tell you about. Mr. Savage has an idea that your

next album should have an African feel.

See, chill. All the other rappers are busting old school. It's my plan to take

you back to the oldest school there is.

Mother Africa.

Oh, that's supposed to be like some deep shit, huh?

So you're Savage, huh?

The motherfucker that's known for making top records, right?

So they say, I... And you blind as a motherfucker, huh?

Like you can't see shit?

Man, that's fucked up.

This is the prime piece of pussy right next to you.

You could only be talking about my Joanna.

Join us, darling.

Gentlemen, may I present to you Joanna Coles.

Joanna not only decorated the house tonight, but prepared the meal as well.

Joanna, darling, may I present Super Agent Clay Majors and Rap Kingpin

Stone Chill.

It's nice meeting both of you. Likewise.

Where I know you from, I know you from somewhere.

Yeah, you was on that fat host talk show.

You was the one that was getting fucked on a pool table.

and motherfuckers like watching you and shit, you like that kind of shit, don't

you? You like when motherfuckers watching you get fucked.

Tell me the truth, ho.

Uh, actually, yes, I have been on a television show. Shut up, bitch.

She like to get watched, and this motherfucker can't see.

It's fucking me up, man.

So what do you think, Stone?

Return to Africa?

I think I'm hungry, man.

I think I'm real motherfucking hungry, all right?

I think I need to be fed.

Well, I don't see why we can't have a little dinner and discuss business at

same time.

Christ, was it hot that day.

Electrified might be the more appropriate word.

Sex was the main source of the moment's power.

Sex and violence.

Real violence.

Potentially deadly violence.

Sort of violence that might force me to reveal that I could see.

That, of course, I was in no rush to do.

My plan was to wait if indeed the situation ran out of control until the

possible minute.

Until Joanna was truly in mortal danger.

Somehow I sensed that would be a possibility.

Sir, are you hungry? Would you like to join us? That motherfucker eats when I

say eat.

He shits when I say shit.

Don't offer him shit, all right? That's my nigga.

I trained him.

Shit. That's a law motherfucker.

He see me do shit, that'll probably leave me locked up the rest of my

life. You see what I'm saying?

Shit, I pay him plenty fucking good, too.

So next time you think about offering shit, you talk to me first.

Fuck that, all right?

Uh, Chill, I think Savage is really on to something with his return to Africa

theme.

Yeah, man, whatever the fuck you're talking about, man.

Uh, Chill, I think you really ought to listen to what Alex has to say, because

he's jump -started many careers, which have said, uh, eh, stumbling blocks.

Uh, and I don't mean to be unpleasant, but we all know, uh, your last album

didn't perform that well.

What exactly do you have in mind, Alex?

Did you ever see the movie Gandhi?

Yeah,

I know what the fuck it is.

Very well.

See, there was a scene in Gandhi, which obviously came out before I went blind,

where Gandhi's...

leading his army of followers on a march to the sea.

There are thousands upon thousands of believers, each attempting to emulate

holy man.

In their haste, they rush past poor Gandhi.

What was that?

Nothing, man. I knocked over a fucking bow. Keep talking.

Anyway, uh...

Gandhi is forever having to fight to keep to the

head of the pack.

Jill, the irony is, Gandhi is the head of the pack.

I see you as being the Gandhi of the rap scene, Jill.

Certainly not for your pacifism.

But because your talents, well, they're almost...

Hell, all the hip -hop follows your every move, Chill.

My only goal is to lead you back to the front of the pack.

You know, you're the baddest motherfucker going, Chill.

Sure this had something to do with how you stayed so far ahead of the

competition, hmm?

You're the baddest Mahatma.

Yeah, I'm a hot man, right? Yeah, I dig what you're saying, man. That's all

good. But I got a role, so what I'm gonna do is I'm gonna put this tape on

stuff that I've been working on. I'm gonna take majors, I'm gonna take my

bodyguard. We don't raise the body here, man.

I gotta go.

That's some shit that I've been working on, right?

And, uh, you know, I'm gonna get out of here. But it was nice meeting you, man.

And, uh, yo, yo, bitches, fly.

What? You believe so soon?

Sorry, man, I got a ghost.

Joanna?

Joanna? Do you want me to turn the music down?

No.

No, I think I'll... I think I'll listen to it like this.

Yeah, the food's delicious.

I think I'll... I think I'll finish eating.

Everything left to the pig?

I'm crazy roughneck like a cobra committing casualties to war. Cause my

cause more catastrophe than a world war.

With no sweat, I step and catch threat.

What else can you expect from a tough roughneck? Born with agility to rip

facilities. Less work to get to those tends to ability.

Or you will end up all in about a shake.

For trying to press up and mess up what I make.

Now I gotta take the flake and straight break this motherfuckin' egg and I need

respect while I'm great.

So I'ma dash to the hood, pass through the woods, and crash cause I'ma be no

good cause I...

Cross -corruption like ultimate destruction.

Cause misconduct can get you stuck. Well, fuck spectrum and asthmatic.

Own them and creep. End up on a stretcher. If I catch you on a

That's how it is when my fuse is lit. I will effusion quake. And I won't even

use the stick.

I use a fucking A -paint. Or a Glock 9.

Get your respect cause I got mine.

I'm steady getting ready for the machete. But I ain't facing Jason cause

him like confetti.

Now he said he liked the ref. He said he was the best.

So I have to shred him like stress.

Now I'm back to the west side gang. To the west side gang. To the west is where

I hang.

It ain't a shame.

No blaming on the sunshine.

I got a gun and I'm aiming it at one time.

Waiting for some type of disruption.

So I can feel a tap back because you know I Cause corruption like ultimate

destruction Y 'all better fall for your face, it's corruption Cause corruption

like ultimate destruction Y 'all better fall for your face, it's corruption

Cause corruption like ultimate destruction Y 'all better fall for your

it's corruption Cause corruption like ultimate destruction

This is my safari, my adversary.

For those that dare me, listen just with a cemetery.

Alone with the rest of us, broken under tech.

Wicked egg needs of a rabbit from the west.

That's capable of creating a fatal tornado for an egg bowl. To rock the

cradle, get the label. Not forgettable, ain't better for more. When I'm soft

like a horse, in the dark, in a park, when I'm warm. So mark me a victory,

niggas can't get with me.

It was all a game, right?

As a matter of fact, it was.

Savage's house was full of silent alarm triggers.

There was one under the table.

To have a fleet of police cars and helicopters on our property within

all I would have had to do was step on that button.

I chose not to, out of fear.

Fear that I might not ever be so excited again.

So yeah, it was all a game. And games are great fun until somebody gets hurt.

Alex Savage told me something like that once.

He would know.

Got something for you, son. Read that. Read it, motherfucker.

Turn your ass around.

Turn around, bitch.

Fuck, you think I'll shake your ass? Hey, read it. What it say? What it say,

huh?

Motherfucker, you're taking too long. Come on, motherfucker.

Read what the fuck that shit say.

Think I'm fucking around?

Read it. What the fuck it say, man?

Read this shit, motherfucker punk.

I kill everybody in this motherfucker. Turn around, bitch.

Weed that shit.

See what it says?

See ya.

Get

your

bitch ass out of here.

End game.

Oh, looks like that music might have put somebody in the mood a little bit, huh?

Well, that's just fabulous. You know, I get a little horny. So, thank

God that uppity.

ignorant black bullet chili finally took off, huh?

Fuck you.

to worry anything about that asshole bodyguard making a bullshit story about

not going on a killing spree or anything like that okay we're in the clear

inside i'm screaming why why but i don't care

why i'm fucking out of here fuck you

well i don't think you really need to know why

joanna because you already

read the book.

Joanna's time with me served as the perfect antidote for her writer's block.

And no matter how painful our little story was, it did have its consolations.

I don't think Joanna ever forgave me, though.

Forgiveness doesn't really matter.

We were destined to be together all along.

I, the ultimate exhibitionist, and Alex, the ultimate voyeur.

Really, the only game we played was seeing how long we could put off such an

inevitable ending.

In that way, we both won.

In the best games, everyone always wins.

And that game was the best.

Well, there will be more.

The world is full of players.

After all, we sucked you in, didn't we?