By the time Hopeless gets in the Americar again, he's feeling a little numb. Whether it's from the shock of the ambush wearing off, his exhaustion, or the death of his teammate, he's not really sure, but later, when he tries to recall disposing of Breeze's body, or the message that Breeze sent him, it's impossible to differentiate between the two. The whole ordeal plays out like some kind of bad trid, or the complete inversion of one: instead of training for the big fight, the hero is laid to rest, left to be picked clean by ghouls. Yeah, this is the shadows. So much for the code of the samurai.
Panel 1: Ext. Downtown College Station.
An aerial shot, the camera pans slowly as the runners exit Stoker 8. Hopeless pops the trunk, while the ork, still in his suit and bigger now somehow, carefully places his shovel in the trunk, deferential to its contents. Obviously, they didn't have a shovel in the hotel room. Hopeless knows this, but every time he remembers it, that's how it plays out.
(Cutscene)
Panel 2: Int. Americar
Hopeless is the last to enter the car, taking the passenger side this time. He closes the door, and the two look at one another for a brief moment.
Ork (Heavy Russian Accent):
You sure? This the play?
The human, Hopeless, nods, and loads up a file from his commlink.
Panel 3: XCU Hopeless' commlink
The shot is tight, focused, with just enough of the road in view to give the impression of forward momentum. Breeze's face comes into view. He's splotchy, his eyes are nearly swollen shut, and the drab safehouse frames his background.
Breeze:
Hoi, chummer. If you’re watching this, we both know what that means, and if that’s the case, I’m sorry I let you down."
Panel 4: XCU on Breeze, Int. of Safehouse
Breeze:
"If this happened in the middle of our business, omae, I hope you got outta there, and are watching this on a beach somewhere with that goofy motorcycle helmet of yours safely packed away for later. Seriously. Later. If we’re not done yet, then cut this fuckin’ file. I’m serious. Ditch the job, frag the Johnson, and find work elsewhere. This one’s slotted up something fierce.”[/
Panel 5: Int. Americar XCU on Hopeless' reflection in his commlink menu.
A few moments of silence as the sound of tires on plascrete thump along to a brooding soundtrack. From the commlink window, Breeze's expression is hard, daring, as if he's wishing for Hopeless to close the window, walk away, and forget about this whole mess from beyond the grave. From the reflection, Hopeless keeps on watching, forcing himself to be dispassionate.
Panel 6: Ext. Aerial view of a highway
A lone Americar cuts through the darkness, the lights of College Station faintly glowing behind it.
Breeze (V.O.):
"You’re still with me, huh? Figures. So here’s the thing: you figure you owe someone, and you’re going to see this through, chip? I’m not going to argue with you."
Panel 7: Ext. Slums of Ork Town
The Americar turns a corner on a derelict residential street. Two houses can be seen in various states of disrepair. The corner house has been looted for siding and wiring, leaving only a skeleton of load-supporting beams. In the foreground Error brings up his hand to cover his face, gesturing like he's scratching his ear, while in the background Lonestar lights flash as two agents talk with the neighbors.
Breeze V.O.):
"If you want to find yourself in the same position as me, it’s a free-ish country, so here’s what you gotta do: find my homeboy, Archive. You need matrix support for this run, and with our partners dropping like flies, or starting a fucking riot for Ghost’s sake, you need someone on the outside, someone who hasn’t been tainted by whatever the fuck is really going on here. And that someone is Archive. I’ve been doing business with this guy for as long as I’ve been running the matrix, and he’s yet to let me down. This is one decker with some serious skills, and he seems to be fraggin’ everywhere at once."
Panel 8: Int. Americar
Breeze (V.O.):
“Here’s the downside. I can’t tell ya anything about him. I don’t even know if it’s a ‘him’ we’re talking about. As for where to find him, you got me, omae, but I took the liberty of sending him a file on everything I’ve got on the MS labs."
Hopeless reacts to Breeze's confession, and shoots a glance at Error.
Panel 9: Ext. Culvert
The Americar comes to a stop next to a large culvert that opens like a maw outside a long-abandoned municipal building. Error exits quickly with his assault rifle, and covers the opening while Hopeless pops the trunk.
Breeze (V.O.):
"Don’t go cursing me out quite yet. I’m a dead man, remember, and it’s not nice to speak ill of the recently deceased. I files I sent were encrypted. Attached to this message is the key, and yeah, I’m thinking of you Hopeless, I put a hell of a databomb on that thing should it get intercepted or he not be as trustworthy as I think he is. So, what you gotta do is take that little key, and get yourself to the Ares Space Museum in the matrix, and plant that little key in the bottom of the deepest valley in Mars. All they fraggin’ care about there is tagging AROs, so you should be golden. If you’re interested, and if Archive is interested, then you’ve got yourself a team."
Panel 10: Ext. Establishing Shot, Aerial view: Culvert
The three figures are small, swallowed by the sun scorched grass and the detritus of 20th century America. Error has one hand on his rifle, and Breeze's leg in the other. Hopeless has both of Breeze's arms in his, as they half carry, half drag Breeze to the mouth of the culvert. The shot pulls back as they advance, until their figures become imperceptible.
Breeze (V.O.):
"I never figured we needed anyone but us two to get this thing finished anyway."
Panel 11: Ext. Culvert
The bottom part of the shot is Breeze's body, laid on his side with his hand in view. Always the hand. Hopeless will never forget the hand. Hopeless and Error walk to the car, and the scene fades out as the headlamps turn from view.
Breeze (V.O.):
"So, here’s to you, old friend. And one more thing, if I’ve bitten it before that prick Big Daddy, would you kindly put a bullet in his fuckin’ head for me? I think his name’s Niles, by the way. There’s a listing for him in the Retro-futurist sheets I got.”
Panel 12: XCU Hopeless' Commlink
Again, the shot is tight, but shows enough of the road to betray the forward movement of the Americar. Hopeless holds the commlink loosely, as Breeze's face fades from view and replaced by a 20th century flat-flick. There's a gore-covered screen lightly obscuring a good-looking Austrian fellow urging Hopeless to "Get your ass to Mars."
Austrian Gentleman
Get your ass to Mars//Get your ass to Mars//
Get your ass to Mars//Get your ass to Mars//
Get your ass to Mars//Get your ass to Mars//
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6ABu8VtVjs