Following a villainous altercation gone wrong, Fred Myers, a.k.a. Boomerang, sees an opportunity to get the law off his back for good by declaring himself a newly reformed superhero! But going straight isn’t easy when you still owe a debt to the Kingpin of crime himself, Wilson Fisk! Or when you just… don’t really want to.
With only hours left before Kingpin comes to call, Fred attempts one final, desperate gambit to acquire the digitized brain he’s promised his employer. But is this a step too far, even for him?
Big panel, wide overhead shot. A morgue. At the center of the room sits the autopsy table, with a body laying atop it. Though the body is covered by a sheet, it’s hard not to notice the four large mechanical TENTACLES spilling out onto the floor.
Two CORONERS are in the room with the body; the first is a tall, dark-haired Indian man, while the second, hanging back, is a pale young woman with platinum hair.
CAPTION (GENERIC): Three Years Ago
FIRST CORONER: All right, let’s see here. Subject name: Otto Octavius.
FIRST CORONER: Caucasian male, early 50s.
FIRST CORONER: Apparently.
Close-up. The sheet is pulled back from the head, revealing the pathetic, shriveled face of OTTO OCTAVIUS, as he appeared in the days before his death.
FIRST CORONER (OFF-PANEL): Hair… none.
Extreme close-up of OCTAVIUS’ eyes, or rather, his goggles, which have all but fused with his anatomy. The right-hand lens has popped out of its socket, still attached by a few stray wires.
FIRST CORONER (OFF-PANEL): Eyes… ‘mechanical?’
SECOND CORONER (OFF-PANEL): God, supervillains are weird.
Medium shot, low angle. The male CORONER holds a scalpel in one hand. With the other, he pulls the sheet back farther to expose the chest.
FIRST CORONER: Making first incision…
FIRST CORONER: Oh.
Close-up. The scalpel comes down on the the wide metal band that spans Octavius’ chest, holding the tentacles in place against his spine.
SOUND EFFECT: *ting*
Medium shot. The male CORONER turns around to address his colleague, leaving the scalpel sitting on the corpse’s chest as he does so.
FIRST CORONER: Is this a joke?
Two-shot. The female CORONER shrugs as her coworker rubs his chin.
SECOND CORONER: We tried. They’re not going anywhere. It’s like they’re welded onto him.
FIRST CORONER: Right. We’ll see what the circular saw says about that.
The male CORONER returns his attention to his work, though to his surprise, the scalpel is missing (its absence indicated by a little starburst).
FIRST CORONER: Say, didn’t I leave my scalpel right —
Wide shot. The male CORONER turns around once again, and sees, to his abject horror, that his fellow CORONER’S throat has been slit. She clutches at her neck, a trickle of blood running from between her fingers. (But only a trickle. This is a PG-13 book, you see.) A very thin shadow falls on the male coroner’s back.
SECOND CORONER: *gargle* *gurk!*
SOUND EFFECT (OFF-PANEL): *slither*
Close-up of the surviving CORONER looking back over his shoulder, his mouth and eyes both open wide in sheer terror.
FIRST CORONER: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!
Close-up of SHOCKER, finally geared up in his full costume. Behind him is the night sky. His head is tilted to the side as he mutters to himself.
SHOCKER: So, Herman, what did you do today?
SOUND EFFECT: *chuk!*
Same close-up. SHOCKER’S head is tilted the other way.
SHOCKER: Oh, nothing special.
SOUND EFFECT: *chuk!*
Another wide overhead shot, not unlike the one on the first page. This time, however, an open grave fills the center of the image, with SHOCKER already having dug himself in up to his shoulders. He hoists a shovel-full of dirt out of the grave onto a large pile, beside which the LIVING BRAIN stands vigil. At the head of the grave is a tombstone reading “OTTO OCTAVIUS: 1962-2015”
CAPTION (GENERIC): Present Day
SHOCKER: Got released from jail…
SOUND EFFECT: *chuk!*
SHOCKER: Got kidnapped…
SOUND EFFECT: *chuk!*
SHOCKER: Exhumed the corpse of a supervillain…
SHOCKER: Typical Wednesday, really.
At the bottom of the page is the issue’s title:
NIGHT OF THE LIVING OCTOPED!
Low-angle shot, looking up out of the grave along with SHOCKER, who pulls his mask up to wipe his brow. BOOMERANG (also back in costume for the first time since Issue 1) pokes his head over the edge to address his… friend?
BOOMERANG: Hey! Less talking, more digging.
SHOCKER: Oh, good, you’re back.
SHOCKER: Can I ask why I’m the one down in the hole when this whole thing was your idea?
Wide shot, but high-angle, letting us see down into the grave. BOOMERANG has already started to walk away from the conversation.
BOOMERANG: The groundskeeper only had one shovel.
SHOCKER: You didn’t look very hard.
LIVING BRAIN: Whirr–clik-ick– That is true.
CAPTION: My fate lies in the hands of a couple of crybabies.
CAPTION: This sort of thing comes with the life we chose. When’s the last time you heard me complaining?
CAPTION: Don’t answer that.
Medium shot of BOOMERANG, leaning down into the grave.
BOOMERANG: Listen, you can whine all night, but the longer you do it, the longer we’re gonna be here.
BOOMERANG: So chop chop.
Close-up of SHOCKER, sighing angrily.
Extreme close-up. Shocker thrusts his shovel into the dirt one more time, immediately striking wood.
SOUND EFFECT: *Thunk!*
SHOCKER looks up with pursed lips, practically breaking the fourth wall.
BOOMERANG (OFF-PANEL): See? Was that so hard?
Close-up. SANDMAN’S face peers into the darkness of a cabinet filled to the brim with junk. He squints.
CAPTION (GENERIC): Earlier That Day
A reverse shot of sorts. SANDMAN is still in the Tinkerer’s radio repair shop, waiting for his teammates downstairs. An ominously familiar object sits in the back of the cabinet. While it’s hard to fully make out behind the spare tubes and sprockets piled up in front of it, the overall shape of the head — its two ear-like antennae, its wide-open mouth locked in a permanent metal snarl — can hardly be mistaken.
SANDMAN reaches into the cabinet to pull the object out, but as he does so, a radio at the far end of the shop clicks itself on, drawing his attention.
SOUND EFFECT: *click*
RADIO: ♪ Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum… ♫
RADIO: ♪ Mr. Sandman… ♫
SANDMAN withdraws his arm and glances up at the ceiling, noticing a semi-hidden camera pointing in his direction.
RADIO: ♪ Bring me a dream… ♫
SANDMAN looks the other way, and clocks a second camera monitoring him from the other side of the shop.
RADIO: ♪ Make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen… ♫
Wide shot. SANDMAN extends a sand arm across the shop to turn off the radio. As he does so, a blue glow begins to emanate from his chest, much to his own surprise.
RADIO: ♪ Give him two lips like roses and — ♫
SOUND EFFECT: *click*
Medium shot. SANDMAN, sand arm still outstretched, looks down at his chest.
Extreme close-up. SANDMAN removes the glowing Parker Industries vial from within his sandy mass.
Medium shot. Peeking over his shoulder, SANDMAN does his best to hide the vial from the cameras.
Extreme close-up. SANDMAN holds the vial up to his face and pops the cork.
Even more extreme close-up. He tilts the vial delicately, attempting to pour a single drop of the liquid onto his finger.
Even more extreme close-up. The liquid glows almost painfully bright as it nears the lip of the vial above Sandman’s outstretched fingertip.
Wide shot of the whole shop. SANDMAN abruptly stands up and shoves the (recorked) vial back into his chest as the furniture begins to slide around, revealing the hidden stairway to the Tinkerer’s downstairs workshop. BIG WHEEL and ROCKET RACER are already making their way up the steps.
SOUND EFFECT: *WHRRRRRRRRRR*
ROCKET RACER: ‘Cause I’m just saying, if you wanted to be friends…
BIG WHEEL: I really don’t.
ROCKET RACER: Okay.
Wide shot. ROCKET RACER stands beside BIG WHEEL across from SANDMAN. Behind them, the desk slides back into place.
SOUND EFFECT: *Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr*
ROCKET RACER: You okay, Will?
SANDMAN: What? Oh. Yeah. I’m fine.
BIG WHEEL: You don’t look fine.
SANDMAN: It’s nothing.
Similar to the previous setup, but a little more over SANDMAN’S shoulder. BIG WHEEL grins while ROCKET RACER smirks at him.
SANDMAN: What about you? Any luck?
BIG WHEEL: Robert and I actually had a major breakthrough.
BIG WHEEL: Oh. You mean with the brain.
BIG WHEEL: No.
Wide shot, exterior. The three exit the Tinkerer’s shop and turn left down the sidewalk. Focused as they are on their discussion, none of them turn around to identify the somewhat large group of people making their way into the shop right behind them.
It just so happens that this group consists of MISTER NEGATIVE, his entourage of INNER DEMONS, and a roughly-escorted OVERDRIVE, his mouth duct taped shut.
BIG WHEEL: I’m sorry, William.
BIG WHEEL: You may just have to accept that we’ll never find Overdrive. At least not anytime soon.
SANDMAN: Mmm. To tell the truth, that’s sounding like less and less of a problem.
ROCKET RACER: How do you mean?
Close-up of SANDMAN.
SANDMAN: How much do the two of you trust Fred, really?
Two-shot of BIG WHEEL and ROCKET RACER, glancing at each other.
Same framing. ROCKET RACER barely holds in a guffaw.
ROCKET RACER: *snort*
A casket lid swings open, dirt showering down over the edge. We look out from within this casket to see BOOMERANG and SHOCKER, who stare down into it. Both of their faces are fallen.
SOUND EFFECT: *creeeeak*
A high-angle reverse shot.
The casket is empty.
SHOCKER: Well, that’s no good.
CAPTION: Congratulations, Fred.
CAPTION: You did it.
CAPTION: After all these years, you’ve finally sweet-talked your way to an early grave.
Close-up of BOOMERANG, genuinely distraught and turning to Shocker for any sort of answer.
BOOMERANG: He faked it.
BOOMERANG: How could he have faked it, Herman?
BOOMERANG: Why would he do that?
BOOMERANG: There’s still so much stuff out there to steal.
Close-up of SHOCKER.
SHOCKER: I don’t think he faked it, Fred.
SHOCKER: I think the odds were just too steep on this one.
SHOCKER: Consider the facts. There’s no way we’re the first people to have this idea. It makes sense they wouldn’t actually bury him here.
SHOCKER: The real grave’s probably out there somewhere with a fake name. Or no name.
Wide shot of the two in the grave, as well as LIVING BRAIN, standing over it.
LIVING BRAIN: Whirr–click-ick– Assessment: Herman Schultz’s theory is sound.
BOOMERANG: So what I’m hearing is that I have eleven hours to find an unmarked grave…
BOOMERANG: …in a Manhattan cemetery.
SHOCKER: I mean, I was saying that in a more ‘let it go’ capacity.
Medium two-shot. BOOMERANG plops down forlornly in the casket.
BOOMERANG: You’re right. I might as well just climb in here now and save Kingpin the trouble.
BOOMERANG: Hey, you can even fill it back in. Make us even.
SHOCKER: Kingpin? What’s he got to do with this?
BOOMERANG: Did I not mention that part?
Close-up of SHOCKER. He rubs his forehead.
SHOCKER: All right.
Wide shot. SHOCKER clambers out of the grave towards the LIVING BRAIN.
SHOCKER: LB, are the tentacles giving off any sort of signal you can pick up?
LIVING BRAIN: Whirr–click-ik– Negative. No signals or energy signatures of any kind detected.
LIVING BRAIN: This unit hypothesizes that the casket may have been lead-lined for this exact reason.
Medium shot. BOOMERANG has stood up to observe what Shocker is doing, but has otherwise not left the grave. He is still lost in his own thoughts.
BOOMERANG: It was nice knowing you, Herman. Sincerely.
BOOMERANG: If you need a place to stay now that you’re out of prison, I want you to have my apartment.
BOOMERANG: The door doesn’t shut, and I’m eight months behind on my rent. But it’s across the street from a pretty good deli.
Wide shot. SHOCKER is in full command mode now, pointing one finger at a thoroughly surprised BOOMERANG and the other at the LIVING BRAIN.
SHOCKER: Seriously, Fred, shut up.
SHOCKER: LB, you downloaded the cemetery’s files back at the groundskeeper’s place, right?
LIVING BRAIN: Whirr–click-ick– Affirmative.
SHOCKER: How many burials happened here within… say, a week of Ock’s funeral?
LIVING BRAIN: Searching…
Two shot of the LIVING BRAIN and SHOCKER. Between and behind them, BOOMERANG’S head pokes out of the grave.
LIVING BRAIN: Whirr–clik-ik– Cemetery records indicate that six other interments occurred within that time frame:
LIVING BRAIN: Michael T. LaSalle
LIVING BRAIN: Victoria E. Funkenstein
LIVING BRIAN: Vitus O. Tocato
LIVING BRAIN: Phillip J. —
SHOCKER: Vitus O. Tocato. That’s the one.
BOOMERANG: Wha–? How could you –?
SHOCKER: It’s an anagram of ‘Otto Octavius.’
Extreme wide shot. SHOCKER picks up the shovel and runs off with the LIVING BRAIN, leaving a positively stunned BOOMERANG to just now pull himself out of the hole.
SHOCKER: LB, take us to that grave. And step on it.
LIVING BRAIN: Whirr–clik-ick– Yes, Herman Schultz.
Over the shoulder shot from BOOMERANG’S perspective. As Boomerang stands up at the edge of the grave, SHOCKER stops and turns around to face him, shrugging.
SHOCKER: What? I like doing the Jumble.
BOOMERANG, SHOCKER, and the LIVING BRAIN, seen from the rear, stand in front of a new grave marker. This one is a large cross, with a second, four-pointed star behind it, offset at a 45º angle. It is otherwise unmarked.
BOOMERANG: Okay, yeah. I can see it.
SHOCKER: It kinda is, isn’t it?
Reverse shot of the three looking straight out at the grave marker (or in this case, the reader). BOOMERANG sheepishly nods in SHOCKER’S direction.
BOOMERANG: That was… actually really impressive, Herman. Thank you.
SHOCKER: Don’t mention it.
Same framing. All three stand silently.
Same framing. SHOCKER holds the shovel out to BOOMERANG.
SHOCKER: Now chop chop.
Wide shot. SANDMAN, ROCKET RACER, and BIG WHEEL are gathered on a rooftop in the middle of the night. Sandman holds out the blue vial.
SANDMAN: See this here?
SANDMAN: Fred was pretty keen to have me swipe it from Parker Industries earlier.
ROCKET RACER: What is it?
SANDMAN: Supposedly it’s Ock’s DNA.
SANDMAN: But, well… watch.
Close-up of Sandman’s hand as he turns it to sand, causing the vial to glow a bright blue.
ROCKET RACER (OFF-PANEL): Yikes. Not even Dazzler’s got DNA that funky.
SANDMAN (OFF-PANEL): My thoughts exactly.
Wide shot of the three. As ROCKET RACER takes the vial from SANDMAN and contemplates it, the glow fades almost completely.
BIG WHEEL: You’re suggesting that Frederick had an ulterior motive for taking this?
SANDMAN: I am.
Rough two-shot of BIG WHEEL and SANDMAN. The former puts a hand on his chin while the latter crosses his arms. Behind them, ROCKET RACER shakes the vial trying to cause a reaction, to no success.
BIG WHEEL: That is fairly common behavior during the early stages of recovery.
BIG WHEEL: Many feel that their decision to reform entitles them to some sort of reward. Even if that reward is ill-gotten.
BIG WHEEL: I’ll have a chat with him and see what we can do about returning this to its rightful owners.
SANDMAN: All due respect, Wheele, but I don’t think this is gonna be fixed with a ‘chat.’
Wide shot of the trio. ROCKET RACER turns around, SANDMAN’S statement having regained his attention.
SANDMAN: I’m starting to wonder if Boomerang cooked up this whole brain story to trick us into doing his dirty work.
SANDMAN: And we fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
BIG WHEEL: I don’t know, William, that feels like a stretch.
SANDMAN: How long have you known Fred?
BIG WHEEL: About a week.
SANDMAN: It’s not a stretch.
Two-shot of SANDMAN and ROCKET RACER as Rocket Racer hands the vial back to Sandman.
ROCKET RACER: Then what did Overdrive steal?
SANDMAN: If I’m right? Nothing, and he knew it.
SANDMAN: His job was to take the so-called ‘brain’ out of the picture before we had a chance to realize it’s fake, and leave Fred with what he actually wanted all along.
ROCKET RACER: I’ve got to admit, that’s good.
Medium two-shot of BIG WHEEL and ROCKET RACER. Rocket Racer shrugs.
BIG WHEEL: Robert, are you buying this?
ROCKET RACER: I mean… I’m not not buying it, that’s for sure.
Wide shot of the three. BIG WHEEL holds out one arm and crosses the other. SANDMAN holds up the vial.
BIG WHEEL: I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you, William. I do.
BIG WHEEL: But these are serious accusations, and I think it’s only fair that Frederick should be here to defend himself.
SANDMAN: Oh, don’t worry. There’ll be time for that.
SANDMAN: Right now I’m more concerned with finding out what the heck this thing actually is.
ROCKET RACER: Sure.
Extreme wide shot, emphasizing the night sky and the skyline behind them.
ROCKET RACER: But how exactly does standing on a rooftop at one in the morning help us do that?
Medium shot of all three. ROCKET RACER and BIG WHEEL turn in surprise, while SANDMAN only moves his eyes in the direction of a new voice.
VOICE (OFF-PANEL): It doesn’t.
VOICE (OFF-PANEL): I do.
Large panel, full-body shot. A woman is crouched atop a bit of HVAC ductwork, her white hair blowing in the night wind. The moonlight glints off of her silver, almost metallic jumpsuit.
SILVER SABLE: Hello, boys.
Another wide, high-angle shot of BOOMERANG, SHOCKER, and LIVING BRAIN standing over another freshly dug up grave.
CAPTION: Hello, boys!
BOOMERANG: I swear to God if this one’s empty too…
SHOCKER: Nah. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.
As BOOMERANG and SHOCKER open the lid, we get the same inside-the-coffin POV shot from earlier. This time, though, the expressions on their faces are markedly different.
SHOCKER: Oh, God.
A close-up of DOC OCK’S desiccated and rotting corpse. Its jaw hangs askew, almost unhinged, but the goggles remain, clinging to the scraps of flesh that remain around the eyes.
CAPTION: Well, I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Medium two-shot of BOOMERANG and SHOCKER. Boomerang glances over at Shocker while Shocker continues to stare in dismay at the corpse.
BOOMERANG: What do you think, should we say a few words?
SHOCKER: I’m good.
BOOMERANG: Then let’s get to it.
Wide shot. Each holding on to one tentacle, BOOMERANG and SHOCKER unceremoniously drag OCK’S corpse face-first out of the grave.
Wide overhead shot. BOOMERANG and SHOCKER stand over the corpse sprawled face-down on the ground. Evidently, Ock was buried in his trademark green-and-yellow jumpsuit, though it’s seen better days.
BOOMERANG: Great. Now how do we get it out?
SHOCKER: Get what out?
BOOMERANG: I don’t know, the thingy.
SHOCKER: The thingy?
BOOMERANG: That thingy that interfaced with his brain! Whatever it is.
SHOCKER: You don’t even know what you’re looking for!?
Small, close-up, almost an insert. A light on the tentacle pack starts to blink.
SOUND EFFECT: *blip!*
BOOMERANG (OFF-PANEL): Hey, this wasn’t even my idea.
Wide shot. BOOMERANG surveys the area for the Living Brain, while behind him the tentacles on the corpse start to move and arch themselves. SHOCKER, watching this, taps Boomerang nervously on the shoulder.
BOOMERANG: Brainy, how do we get the –?
BOOMERANG: Huh. Where’d he go?
SHOCKER: Uh, Fred?
Close-up of BOOMERANG, still being prodded at by Shocker.
BOOMERANG: He was just here.
SHOCKER (OFF-PANEL): Fred.
BOOMERANG: You’d think his wheels would stick in the mud or something.
SHOCKER (OFF-PANEL): Fred!
Close-up of BOOMERANG turning angrily.
Wide shot. BOOMERANG and SHOCKER stare at the seemingly reanimated corpse of DOC OCK standing less than twenty feet from them. The body itself swings limply beneath the tentacles that carry it along.
CAPTION: This guy, right?
Medium shot. BOOMERANG ducks under a tentacle that juts into frame, smashing the gravestone behind him to rubble.
SOUND EFFECT: *SMASH!*
Medium shot. BOOMERANG stands back up, as panicked as we’ve ever seen him.
BOOMERANG: WHAT THE ****!?!
Extreme wide shot. BOOMERANG and SHOCKER run towards the foreground as fast as their legs will carry them, while ZOMBIE OCK gives awkward, lumbering chase. The corpse flails grotesquely with each movement, its loose joints bending in unnatural ways.
Full body shot of SHOCKER sprinting off to the left.
CAPTION: Take the Kingpin job, you said.
Full body shot of BOOMERANG, similarly fleeing and veering off to the right.
CAPTION: It’ll be easy money, you said.
BOOMERANG dives behind a tree…
… as SHOCKER trips…
… and scrambles on all fours to the nearest cover.
Medium shot. SHOCKER huddles behind a gravestone, one eye shut tight. With the other eye, he dares to peek around the edge of his hiding place.
Same medium shot. ZOMBIE OCK bursts into frame inches from SHOCKER’S face as he recoils.
SOUND EFFECT: *SCREEEEEEEECH!!*
Wide shot. SHOCKER instinctively sends a Vibro-Blast in ZOMBIE OCK’S direction, knocking it back a bit. Mostly, though, it splatters the corpse to pieces and knocks the head clean off the body.
SOUND EFFECT: *VVVVVVVVVVVVVVV*
SOUND EFFECT: *Splort!*
Medium shot. SHOCKER takes a moment to process the Ock goop that now coats his upper body.
SHOCKER: oh no
Wide shot of BOOMERANG behind the tree. The head that Shocker effectively launched off the corpse bounces into frame.
SOUND EFFECT: *boink*
SOUND EFFECT: *boink*
Wide shot. SHOCKER flails in both disgust and fear as he rushes off. The TENTACLES — now no longer carrying Ock’s dismembered corpse — are right on his heels, smashing through gravestones in their wake.
SOUND EFFECT: *SMASH!*
SOUND EFFECT: *CRASH!*
A white boomerang, trailing a cable, flies through the air.
The boomerang curls back around two of the TENTACLES, wrapping its cable around them as it does so.
Wide shot. BOOMERANG pulls the cable tight, cinching the TENTACLES together and throwing them off-balance. The whole apparatus crashes to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
SOUND EFFECT: *FOOOMP!*
Wide shot. BOOMERANG runs towards SHOCKER…
…and tackles him into Ock’s grave.
CAPTION: I have to do everything around here.
BOOMERANG and SHOCKER cower in the grave, both staring up at the sky through the hole above them.
Same framing. They continue to wait… but nothing comes. BOOMERANG holds up a finger.
Extreme wide shot. The cemetery is a disaster zone, full of torn-up grass and grave markers reduced to rubble, but outside of BOOMERANG’S tiny head poking up from the grave, it is empty.
BOOMERANG sits back down in the grave next to SHOCKER.
BOOMERANG: I think it’s gone.
Same framing. SHOCKER vomits. BOOMERANG tries not to look at it.
BOOMERANG: That’s fair.
The Tinkerer’s radio repair shop. OVERDRIVE stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, guarded by three INNER DEMONS. One of these Inner Demons stands at the same cabinet Sandman investigated earlier. He casually tosses the Ultron head into a drawstring bag.
TINKERER (OFF-PANEL): Now that is interesting…
Down in the true workshop, the TINKERER sits at a computer monitor, across which runs a stream of data not unlike what was seen in The Matrix. MISTER NEGATIVE and three more INNER DEMONS peer impatiently over his shoulder.
MISTER NEGATIVE: ‘Interesting’ is a word with far too many possible connotations, Mr. Mason.
MISTER NEGATIVE: Do I have my brain or not?
TINKERER: That’s precisely what’s so interesting.
Medium shot. The TINKERER backs away from the monitor and pushes his glasses up to his forehead.
TINKERER: There was data on this chip, once.
TINKERER: And a lot of it.
TINKERER: Perhaps even enough to constitute a ‘brain,’ as you call it.
Two-shot of MISTER NEGATIVE and the TINKERER, who now pivots in his wheelchair to face him.
MISTER NEGATIVE: But?
TINKERER: It’s not there now.
TINKERER: Might’ve been deleted.
TINKERER: But to me it looks more like it was uploaded somewhere else.
MISTER NEGATIVE: I see.
Extreme close-up of MISTER NEGATIVE.
MISTER NEGATIVE: That certainly is… interesting.
The LIVING BRAIN — ominously lit from below — fills the frame. It hangs a few feet in the air, being lifted off the ground by the TENTACLE BELT now secure around its waist.
LIVING BRAIN (??): Whirr–click-ock– Oh, yes.
LIVING BRAIN (??): Now that’s more like it.
NEXT TIME: THE BILL COMES DUE!