Sync & corrections by dwigt www.addic7ed.com
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
Why?
All right.
Aw, no.
- Chris! - Quinty!
I'll be damned.
Ladies, this is Quint. He's my old pal and my mentor.
He taught me everything I know about being a marshal.
- Come on in, folks. - Yeah.
- Hey, why is the floor so wet? - What?
Oh. Uh, not 'cause I been cryin' all the time.
Aw, damn it.
Look, ladies, Quint and I have a little, uh,
catching up to do, okay? Huh? Good.
Off you go. That's it. There you go. Very good.
Ah.
♪ Your other man...
So, what brings you out this way?
I'm on the lam, Quint.
I got framed for my friend Brett's murder.
And when I came up with the evidence that would prove my innocence,
the marshals tried to have me killed.
I think there's a conspiracy that goes all the way up to the top.
A "conspira-cry," eh?
You know, Chris, I don't think I ever told you
why I left the marshals.
Well, I just assumed it was 'cause you got caught taking pictures
of the female marshals using the restrooms.
That is true, but there's another reason.
Come with me, Chris.
Okay, what's in here?
Oh, just something that--
Oh, hey!
Quint, I trusted you!
Aah!
Huh? Oh!
Ugh. What is this crap?
It's Paradise Rising,
my progressive rock concept album.
It's what I've spent the last 30 years working on.
You left the marshals to do a prog rock album?
Yes, sir.
Formed a band called Dreamprism.
I played synth...
...ia -- our lead guitarist, like a fiddle --
that is, when I wasn't drumming...
...up support for my mind-melting bass licks.
- Sweet, huh? - Oh, yeah. No, it's --
Track 36 of Paradise Rising.
It's our triple-length debut/swan song.
The lyrics are filled with cool porcupine imagery.
Just wait till we get to the end of side six.
Ohh.
Ooh, check it out -- four solos at once,
the world's first quatro solo.
You know, Quint, I'm really loving listening to your terrible music,
but I need your help. I think Brett might still be alive.
I think the marshals might have him.
Trip out on this.
Ugh.
Listen up and listen good.
There's a lot you don't know about the marshals.
First off, the U.S. Marshals Service
was actually founded in 1789.
I know that. We learned that in the Academy.
Let me finish.
1789 thousand B.C.
It was started by a secret cabal known as the Ancients.
What the hell are you talking about?
Listen, their mission was onefold --
to scour the Earth in search of the five Chosen Ones
that were foretold in the prophecy.
The Ancients needed them to complete "the Project."
Maybe your friend Brett was one of the chosen ones.
Okay, well, none of that helps me
and was a total waste of my time,
so thank you, old man.
Chris.
If your boy's still alive, he's headed for Kartuuk,
ancient city where the Marshal Service started.
No one knows exactly where it is,
but you'll know it when you see it.
Head south and don't stop.
- Thank you. - It's a long trip.
Here's a copy of Paradise Rising.
Get ready for some sick licks.
Okay, can't wait.
Chris, promise me you'll listen to the tape.
Ooh, okay. I promise.
I'll see ya later, Quinty.
See? That wasn't so hard.
I just sent my protégé to certain death.
And in return, I will pass on your demo
on to my cousin at Toptune Records, as promised.
- Really? - I'm a man of my word.
And now I'm afraid you've outlived your usefulness,
and I've out-used your live-fulness.
Dumb bastard.
20 fingers? What the hell?
But I just killed you.
No, Sugalski. You just killed Grint,
my dumb bastard clone.
You have a few minutes to explain yourself.
See, when I quit the marshals
to devote my life to progressive rock.
I soon encountered what's known as
"prog rocker's dilemma."
The music I composed was too dense and complex
for any regular human being to play.
No one had the chops, not even Cynthia.
So I did some choppin' of my own -- DNA choppin'
and slicin' and a-dicin' and a-splicin'.
I built a lab in my basement, cloned mutant versions of myself,
and formed the world's first genetically engineered
prog rock supergroup.
First came Grint.
His 20 fingers made him ideally suited
to play complex guitar chords.
Then I made a lead singer, Zint,
whose giraffe-like neck gave him
a 12-octave vocal range, just like a giraffe.
Next came Dint, the drummer that's nothing but arms,
Jint, whose dim, ego-less brain made him willing to play bass
and various session mutants.
All right, I get it.
I had a hunch you were gonna double-cross me.
That's why I had Grint pretend to be me.
I didn't double-cross you, Quint.
I said I would get your demo to the record label.
So you are going to give them the tape?
Thanks, brother.
This music stinks.
Well, soundwise, yes, but it's needlessly complicated --
I'll give it that much.
Sounds like a circle jerk to me.
- What's going on? - Where are we?
"KillSpace: A unique dying concept."
Are you sure we want to go in there?
Well, this where Quint told me to go.
Just be cool, okay?
Hi. What's the name?
Could you see if there's a "Monsanto"?
Let's see. Monsanto,
- party of two plus one desk. - Oh, great.
Let me explain our concept a little bit.
KillSpace offers a fresh, modern take on violent death.
We use all local harmers--
Chris, we don't want to die!
Shh! You're embarrassing us.
Excuse me.
We've been waiting to die for like 45 minutes.
I'm sorry. Just a second. We're a little backed up.
- This is ridiculous. - Have you decided?
You know what? We're just gonna let you surprise us.
- Done. - Okay, great.
Band meeting.
Ugh. First, some bad news --
I sent Chris off to KillSpace.
- What? - But he was your friend!
- Why would you do that? - I know. I know. I sold him out.
But, in return, a big-time record executive
is going to listen to Paradise Rising.
- That's great. - That's good.
Have you told Grint?
Bad news, part two -- Grint is dead.
Wh-- What?!
Yeah. I figured the guy I made the deal with
was gonna kill me, so I had Grint stand in.
And Grint was cool with that?
Um... He insisted.
That doesn't sound like Grint.
To Grint!
Uh, guys, record exec, demo tape?
Trish?
And she's gone.
Chris, we're gonna die in there.
- We need to turn around. - Come on!
Oh, yeah! Here we go! Oh!
Ah, finally.
So you had Grint killed and sent Chris to his death,
on a promise made to you by a man
who you correctly guessed would turn around and shoot you
- as soon as you helped him? - What are you, an idiot?
Now, fellas, I know it sounds like not a great plan,
but I think Chris is gonna be okay.
♪ Alas, you've passed through the fiendish gate ♪
♪ Heed my words, lest you seal your fate ♪
Ugh, can I at least not die listening to this awful music?
♪ Beware the Porcupine of Doom ♪
♪ Swerve left now, lest you fill your tomb ♪
Aah! Look out!
Left! Oh my God! The lyrics!
- Yeah, they're terrible. - No, it's Quint --
he's telling us how to survive KillSpace!
♪ The Lava Man will tear you apart ♪
Lava man!
- ♪ Lest you stop his flaming heart ♪ - Heart!
- ♪ Which is located in his knee ♪ - Knee!
Ugh! My heart!
Ohh, I'm fading.
Come on out.
I got something I want to show you --
just came in --
the final artwork for Paradise Rising.
What the hell?! "The Quint Cussler Experience"?
We're called Dreamprism.
Huh? Oh, right.
I figured, since you're all technically me,
it's a solo project.
It was Grint's idea?
Nooooooooo!
- Hyah! - Aah!
Marshmallow! Marshmallow!
♪ The fisherman's ghost takes a final bow ♪
I hate this.
- ♪ But beware his flying bees ♪ - Bees!
- ♪ Duck now - Oh, thank you, Quint.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
You're welcome, Chris.
I'm sorry. I would rather die than listen to this garbage!
♪ And the wench destroyed the tape ♪
♪ But the other tape was already on its way ♪
♪ To the record executive, I say ♪
♪ Did the fugitives survive?
♪ Did they leave the KillSpace alive? ♪
♪ That's a story for another day ♪
This is just what I've been waiting for.
This thing is really gonna sizzle and pop.
Take it up to the top floor, right away!
Sync & corrections by dwigt www.addic7ed.com