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EXT. TATOOME - PICKWORTH JUNKYARD
Lance wanders over to the high fence at the back of the junkyard, and watches the sunset reflecting off the skyscrapers that
are miles and worlds away. He watches until twilight falls, then sneaks 'round the house and to the workshop, and goes inside.
INT. PICKWORTH JUNKYARD – WORKSHOP
Lance enters the workshop only to find the rivetheads missing. He takes a small handheld unit from his pocket and presses
his thumb down, activating the transponders on the rivetheads collars. A low hum starts from a darkened corner of the shop,
and with a girlish yelp, Thirteenpio jumps up from his cot.
LANCE: Were you hiding?
Thirteenpio stumbles further into the light, yawning and stretching. Aryoo isn't in the other cot, nor can Lance see him anywhere
in the shop.
LANCE: Where's your buddy?
THIRTEENPIO: (looking bemused) Huh?
LANCE: Your buddy, where is he?
Thirteenpio looks around a little wildly, even kneeling on the floor and looking under various things, including the cots.
He starts shaking his head and mumbling 'no, no, no, no' to himself.
LANCE: Well?
THIRTEENPIO: It's not my fault, man! Aw, don't give me the jolt or anything, okay?
LANCE: Did he say anything about going for a walk or whatever?
THIRTEENPIO: No. He just indicated that the message he was supposed to deliver was really, really, important. Like, life
or death.
LANCE: Shit!
Lance races out of the shop, with Thirteenpio anxiously following.
EXT. TATOOME - PICKWORTH JUNKYARD
Lance dashes across the junkyard, and pauses at the entrance, searching desperately in both directions for the short rivethead.
Thirteenpio follows breathlessly, and stands next to him panting.
THIRTEENPIO: (gasping out his words) That Aryoo has always been trouble. Trouble with a capital "T". I don't even understand
the whole piercing thing. Me, I prefer tattoos.
LANCE: Well, I can't see him anywhere. Goddammit. I can't believe what a complete moron I am. F*ck!
THIRTEENPIO: Well, much as I hate to interrupt your self-loathing, but why don't we just go after him?
LANCE: It's not safe out there at night. The Strand People are out in droves as soon as it gets dark, and I don't want to
run into any. Nope.
Paddy yells from the house.
PADDY: Lance! While you're out there, lock up wouldja?
LANCE: Fine! (muttering to himself) I'd better check the perimeter system while I'm at it.....gawd, if something needs
to be done around here, why'm I the only one who seems to do it?
Lance locks up the gas station and gate, and does a swift check of the alarm system's control box just inside the door of
the workshop, before heading back to the house.
Before going into the house, Lance takes another long look at the sparkling neon horizon of the city. Thirteenpio stops and
looks with him.
LANCE: You know that idiot rivethead is going to get me in a pile of shit.
THIRTEENPIO: That's just one of his more charming qualities, man. I don't know what else to tell ya.
EXT. PICKWORTH JUNKYARD
Morning crawls over the junkyard, low-slanting sunlight glinting of chrome and glass. The quiet is disrupted when Uncle Paddy
comes out of the house and starts looking for Lance.
PADDY: Lance! Where the hell are ya, boy?! *Lance!*
INT. PICKWORTH HOUSE – KITCHEN
The kitchen is overwarm and slightly steamy, as Edna and the housemaid appear to be bottling something or other, as well as
preparing breakfast. Paddy comes inside, face red, his expression thunderous.
PADDY: Have you seen that boy this morning, Edna?
EDNA: Nope. He left a note on the fridge saying he had some errands to run before he started in on that muscle car again
today.
PADDY: Huh. He didn't take those two new indentures with him, did he?
EDNA: Oh, how would I know, Paddy? Do you think I care?
PADDY: You *should* care, we paid for 'em. That boy had better get them back here before noon to start in on that stuff,
or he's gonna have hell to pay.
EXT. TATOOME - ABANDONED INDUSTRIAL PARK - LANCE'S '68 CAMARO – DAY
The broken asphalt of the seemingly endless parking lots blurs underneath the wheels of the car, as Lance steers it in long,
swooping, curves across the length and breadth of the warehouse wasteland.
INT./EXT. LANCE'S '68 CAMARO - INDUSTRIAL PARK - TRAVELLING – DAY
Lance leans over the transmission hump and jams a CD into the player. Thumping bass pours from the car's speakers.
LANCE: (shouting) How's that?
THIRTEENPIO: Great, man.
Lance and Thirteenpio both start bouncing their heads in time to the bass, with Thirteenpio double-bouncing on the four-count.
Thirteenpio starts banging his hands on the dash in counterpoint, and grins over at Lance, who grins back.
LANCE: Old Sylk Kimono lives out in this area somewhere, but that's a long way to come on foot. Maybe we missed Aryoo, huh?
Uncle Paddy is going to be p*ssed.
THIRTEENPIO: Well, we could always tell him it was all my fault. Not that I think that's the best solution, y'understand.
LANCE: (looking hopefully over at Thirteenpio) Hey, there's an idea! He needs you if he's going to get those cars ready
for the races next weekend. He'd probably wouldn't even cut your rations back for very long.....
THIRTEENPIO: Cut my rations! Oh, come on! I'm sure there's a better solution....there's *got* to be a better solution....aw,
man.....
LANCE: Hang on, isn't that something, way up ahead there. (he points at a figure that could be a trash receptacle for all
either of them can tell from this distance) Yeah, couldn't be anything else, right?
Lance steps on the gas, and the Camaro shoots forward, faster than before.
 Page 5
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