By noon tomorrow, every major city’s water supply will be replaced with Hydro-Thrust. Within an hour, everyone will be obedient. Within a day, they’ll vote for whoever I tell them to. Within a week—world peace. My peace.
RAIN lashes against shipping containers. LIEUTENANT FRANK DREBIN (50s, suit slightly too tight, shoes slightly too shiny) crouches behind a stack of tuna crates. He whispers into his wristwatch. The Naked Gun - From The Files Of Police Squad-...
Hey!
Vex laughs. She presses the button. The missile launches—straight up. Then it sputters. Tilts. And crashes into a seafood restaurant two blocks away. By noon tomorrow, every major city’s water supply
She presses a remote. The dock splits open. A missile rises from below, painted like a juice box. By noon tomorrow