[meeting with Stathis Borans, now a bitter, crippled recluse]
Martin Brundle:
I saw you on the videotape. You were...
Stathis Borans:
Don't sit there!
Martin Brundle:
You were there the night my father died; he was working on a cure.
Stathis Borans:
That's why you dragged yourself all the way out here? To find out about a cure?
Martin Brundle:
You're my only hope.
Stathis Borans:
Ah. Oh, kid, the last thing *I* am, is *anybody's* hope. You really don't want to hear about this.
Martin Brundle:
I *have* to know.
Stathis Borans:
Brundle stole my girl, your mother. Got her pregnant. Caused her death. Dissolved my hand and my foot with fly vomit! I had no love for the man. He "bugged" me! As for the "cure" he was working on: he dragged your mother kicking and screaming into that telepod, that they might be fused together in one beautiful body. So your mother blew his brains out with a shotgun. *There's* your *cure*. Go *away*.
Beth Logan:
You bastard! Where's your compassion?
Stathis Borans:
[chuckles]
I had to give it up; it cost me an arm and a leg!
Martin Brundle:
It cost you more than that.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 09:11
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