Interior Pudding Factory. Chance Chaser
runs from his enemies. But Not because He’s a fucking wimp and can’t
beat them up. It’s all part of a plan. His plan. He has all the proof of
the crime in his hands. But He made photo copies of the proof.
CRIMINAL GANG: (to CHANCE CHASER) Stop right there Chance!
Hold IT! I mean it! STOP YOU MOTHERFUCKER! FUCKING HOLD UP! JESUS H.
FUCKING CHRIST POPSICLE STICKS STOP! HOW MANY GODDAMN WAYS DO I HAVE TO
TELL YOU TO HOLD UP! I HAVEN'T BEEN RUNNING ALL WINTER SO MY CARDIO IS NOT THAT GOOD, ALSO, SOMETIMES, WHEN I HAVE A DRINK I HAVE A CIGARETTE, WHICH HAS BEEN ALOT THIS WINTER. IT'S BEEN A ROUGH WINTER. YOU CAN RELATE RIGHT? WELL MAYBE THIS WILL GET YOUR ATTENTION!
The
leader of the Criminal gang, Petrov Vishnek Diabolovski, 47, pulls out a
sweet ass nickel plated Heckler and Koch .45
He chambers a round and
squeezes off a hot slug. We follow the bullet’s trajectory like in
bullet time, but not bullet time from the Matrix because we’re not
getting sued, as it nicks the corrugated, scaffold like, elevated
walkway that zig-zags, maze-like, through the seemingly endless vats of
pudding. The bullet ricochets off the metal right near Chance Chaser’s boot.
PETROV: GIVE ME THE PROOF.
CHANCE:
(throws the briefcase into a vat of delicious chocolate pudding) It’s
in the pudding. (He takes out a grappling hook gun with his right hand
while he throws a flashbang/smokebomb at the criminal gang)
Via con Dios you stupid pieces of shit.
(He
fires the grappling gun through the skylight. Bits of the window and
moonlight rain down in a dance of shattered glass and enchanting lunar
luminescence. Chance is ejected 30 yards above
the roof of the pudding factory. He deploys a parachute that he used
to use for BASE jumping and all other kinds of super cool shit, and glides safely, expertly to a ZODIAC boat in
the river next to the pudding factory where his accomplice/data
expert/paramour/international bikini model is.
INTRO CREDITS - MISSION IMPOSSIBLE STYLE
