"Netstorm" Screenplay written by Peter Layton

FADE UP

EXT. GIANT COMPUTER STORE - NIGHT
Red light out, siren off, a police car stops outside the Binary Barn computer mega-store. Older cop
JOHN MEYER and his younger partner PETER CLANCY stroll up to the door, opened by a SECURITY GUARD.

INT. MEGA-STORE - NIGHT
The guard shuts off the loudly ringing security alarm and looks over at Meyer holding up three fingers.

MEYER
Three strikes, you're out. We're
not coming back a fourth time.
Get these alarms fixed.

CLANCY
Still, we should check it out.

Clancy speaks to Meyer, but he's eyeing the rows and rows of computers in the darkened store.

INT. UPPER FLOOR -NIGHT
Flashlight held high, Meyer trudges up the stairs to the second floor, just behind Clancy who shines his
light at a top of the line IBM Aptiva.
CLANCY
Oh baby...

MEYER
Tell me Clancy, do you even remember
what a woman looks like?

CLANCY
Sure. They're all over the Net.

MEYER
Ah, you computer guys...now me, my
VCR flashes 12 all day...

A car horn sounds loudly from outside. Clancy frowns, aims his light up towards the sound.
MEYER
...my phone has a cord...
Clancy's flashlight plays along a dark wall.
MEYER
...and I use a stove to heat my--

CLANCY
Meyer!
Boxes of computer equipment lie piled up under a broken window. Clancy yanks out his gun at
a sudden noise and movement in the shadows.
CLANCY
Look out!

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Gunshots knock both cops to the floor, Clancy's gun flying down the
aisle. He rolls under a table to another aisle. Meyer lies dead, blood pooling out. Two gangbanger PUNKS
jump up from their hidden firing positions.
YOUNGER PUNK
Shit! You say they don't come back
three times!

OLDER PUNK
Shut up! C'mon, that other muvahfuker got a radio.

INT. TWO AISLES OVER - NIGHT
Grimacing, holding his bleeding shoulder, Clancy tugs out his radio, which spills its electronic guts out
from the bullet hole in it. In desperation, Clancy looks over a table full of laptop computers.

INT. NEARBY - NIGHT
The two punks peer over and around a computer display, seeing nothing in the dim light. The older gangbanger
points ahead to an exit door with an illuminated sign.
OLDER PUNK
I'll block him off. You OJ him!
Do it!

Giving the younger, scared looking teen a shove, the older gangbanger runs low to the exit.

INT. COMPUTER TABLE - NIGHT
Bleeding profusely, Clancy quickly clicks on the Games icon on a Mac laptop and loads up "Blaster Boy".
Cranking up the speaker volume to MAX, Clancy crawls off with the long wired joystick remote control.

INT. CLOSE BY - NIGHT
Wide-eyed, the young punk pads down the dark aisles, then steps past the computer table.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

YOUNG PUNK
Holy shit!

The punk spins, fires back, pumping five bullets into the Blaster Boy video game, blowing apart
the computer.

INT. SECURITY DESK DOWNSTAIRS - NIGHT
The gunshots sound faintly against the pounding rap beat coming from the security guard's radio.
Frowning, he snaps off the radio and starts up the stairs.

INT. COMPUTER TABLE UPSTAIRS - NIGHT

The punk stops, gazes stunned at the shot up computer. From behind, Clancy jumps out, smashes
the punk over the head with a heavy keyboard, scoops up the loose gun and jams it into the punk's ear
with a trembling hand.

CLANCY
Get up!

The lights suddenly blaze on. The security guard stands in the doorway.
GUARD
Yo! Wha's happ'n?
BANG! BANG! Shot in the head, the security guard topples backwards down the stairs. Clancy
grabs the punk, holds him in front as a shield.
CLANCY
You! Drop your weapon...and...
Clancy's voice fades out as he sways, nearly loses his balance, then hangs tightly onto the punk.
YOUNG PUNK
He hurt bad! Help me!

OLDER PUNK (O/S)
Chill, bro. I ain't leaving you.

The voice is close. Clancy tilts, weak, dizzy.

YOUNG PUNK
Come on! He be losing it!

The older gangster rushes forward, closer to Clancy and his hostage. Gasping, a sagging Clancy clings
to the punk, trying to holding him close.
YOUNGER PUNK
He's got my piece! I shot five!
The older punk steps outs, smiles as he sees Clancy just barely hanging on to his hostage. Gun held out
in a two handed firing grip, he stalks up closer.

YOUNGER PUNK
Only one bullet left!
Sweating, gasping, Clancy presses the gun into the back of the young punk's soft neck, lining up his shot,
angling his gun towards the oncoming bad guy.
YOUNG PUNK
Can't shoot us both!

Clancy fires. The bullet goes through the young punk's neck, out his open, yelling mouth, and into the
older punk's forehead. Both bad guys fall dead to the floor. Clancy staggers a few steps and collapses.
FADE OUT

FADE IN

INT. SMALL COMPUTER ROOM - NIGHT
Right arm in a sling, an electric pad strapped to the bicep, Clancy sits in front of a computer in a small
room littered with wires, disks, computer magazines and junk food wrappings.

CLANCY
Morning, doctor Tessier. Hey, see
my new bionic arm here?
Clancy holds up his arm to a video camera secured to the computer. On screen, the image of counsellor
PAT TESSIER jerks about. His voice comes out from dual speakers.

TESSIER
A muscle stimulator?

CLANCY
Yeah. A good set of batteries and
I'll be Mister Universe. So, one
machine for physio ...

Clancy pats the computer on its side.

CLANCY
...and another for psycho.

Tessier nods jerkily, smiles politely. Biting his lip, Clancy leans toward his microphone.

CLANCY
Um...thanks for continuing to see me this way,
rather than face to face.

TESSIER
Peter, we are face to face...just the
screen between us is different.


INT. PSYCHIATRIST'S DEN - NIGHT
In a wood-paneled den full of leather bound psychology books, a professorial looking Tessier
stares into his computer screen at Clancy's image.

TESSIER
How are you doing? The Prozac help?

CLANCY
No. It'll never bring my partner
back. Or that guard.

Clancy's screen image jerkily throws a silencing hand.

CLANCY
I know, I know...survivor's guilt.
But I should have been paying more
attention in that store.


INT. CLANCY'S COMPUTER ROOM - NIGHT
Clancy stares moodily at the silent, waiting Tessier.

CLANCY
One of those kids wasn't even old
enough to drive yet. They found his
learners licence on him.
There's a short silence before Tessier speaks gently.

TESSIER
You're going back to work, I hear.

CLANCY
Yeah, transferring into forensics...
as a computer specialist, surprise,
surprise. I'll still go after the
bad guys...


EXT. CLANCY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
The only light in the entire apartment complex comes from Clancy's computer
room window. Hooked up to machines, he sits alone and isolated in the night.

CLANCY'S VOICE
...just nobody will get shot and no
kids will die.


INT. DIFFERENT APARTMENT - MORNING
A burly SWAT team splinters through a secured metal front door and charge into an
apartment kitchen where a FAT MAN, hands up, stands beside a micro-wave oven.

SWAT MEMBERS
Police! On the floor! Now!

They throw the fat man down, handcuff him. Toting a black bag, wearing civilian clothes instead of a cop
uniform, Clancy enters the room.

SWAT MAN
Hey, Clancy, over here.

The policeman points at the microwave oven. Inside are a handful of computer disks and CD ROMs
rotating away. Shutting off the oven, Clancy gingerly fishes out the melted plastic sludge, looks at the man.

CLANCY
Making some nachos?

FAT MAN
What do you guys want?

CLANCY
Stolen software. We hear you're
selling it big time.

The fat man says nothing. Clancy walks up to a big Mac computer on a work station table. A scroll rolls
across the screen "WARNING SILENT ALARM ACTIVATED POLICE ALERTED". Smiling slightly,
Clancy moves the mouse, the screen saver vanishes, and a small box demands the user password.

CLANCY
(to fat man)
Going to tell me your password? Or
do I give your computer a lobotomy?

FAT MAN
Do whatever you want, sonny boy.

Shrugging, Clancy starts unscrewing the top of the computer off with a screwdriver.

FAT MAN
Looking for deleted files in the hard drive?
No chancy, Clancy.

The fat man grins smugly, looks over at the melted plastic pile of CD ROMs and disks, then back at
Clancy.

FAT MAN
I know who you are, I've heard about
you. But I've forgotten more about
computers than you'll ever know.

Clancy slips his laptop out of his black bag and hooks it up to the fat man's computer, then plugs into the
phone wall jack. The laptop's screen fills with undecipherable numbers and symbols.

NEARBY COP
What's all this junk?

CLANCY
Encryption. He's sending something
out to somebody.

Clancy takes a hard look at the fat man.

CLANCY
Stolen cell phone accounts? Corporate
security programs?

The fat man just shrugs, looks off in a bored manner.

CLANCY
Damn. He's using an anonymizer.
The nearby cop looks questioningly at Clancy.

CLANCY
It's a blind server. Some free-
speech-on-the-Net geek sets up a
web-site, then walks away. Nobody's
watching, nobody's monitoring, I can't
follow where he's sending this to.

FAT MAN
Aw, no video, no files, no proof.
You boys came all this way for
nothing. So sorry.

Muttering an inaudible obscenity, Clancy rolls up his sleeves, revealing a long scar on his right arm, and
starts typing away on his laptop.

EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD - DAY
A flashy convertible exits the gates of a large estate and roars down a rural road.

INT. SPORTS CAR - DAY
JENNIFER, a fiery redhead, banters in an exasperated tone into a cell phone while bombing along.

JENNIFER
Sal, a two year pre-nup is too long!
Even all his money isn't worth it!

Glancing in her rear view mirror, Jennifer suddenly spots a side-car motorcycle roaring up fast. The
driver wears a visored helmet and blue construction clothes. She swerves as the big bike zooms past.

JENNIFER
Hey! Jerk!
(to cell phone)
No, not you. One of the thousands
of goddamned workers turning that
house into goddamned Star Wars just
passed me in a--Oh shit!
Coming around a corner, Jennifer slams the brakes, drops the cell phone. The car just stops short of the
overturned bike, the driver just getting to his feet.

JENNIFER
(screaming at biker)
See? You were going too fast!

INT. LAWYER'S OFFICE - DAY
SAL the lawyer frowns at the speaker phone on her desk.

SAL
Jennifer? You all right?

The speaker vibrates with Jennifer's anger.

JENNIFER'S VOICE
Some idiot just crashed! I almost
hit him!
(shouting)
You okay? Want me to call 911? No?
You sure?

EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD - DAY
An irritated Jennifer snaps into the phone as the helmeted driver tips his bike back upright.

JENNIFER
Sal, I hate motorcycles. No, I hate
the morons who ride motorcycles.
(loudly)
Hey, come on! Let's go!
The biker suddenly spins around, rushes up to the convertible.

INT. LAWYER'S OFFICE - DAY
The scream over the phone is more animal than human.

JENNIFER'S VOICE
Ahhhhh! He's got a gun!

SAL
Jenn! What's happening?

The scream is abruptly cut off by a dial tone. Sal jumps forward, yelling into the speaker.
SAL
Jennifer! Jennifer!

INT. FAT MAN'S APARTMENT - DAY
Watched by a cop, Clancy jabs his laptop's phone jack in and out rapidly.

COP
Whaddya doing?

CLANCY
I've hijacked the bad guy's feed,
dicking it around. The Netstormers
are watching to see who reacts to
this.

COP
The what stormers?

CLANCY
Netstormers. It's an on-line Internet police
force, something I've organized.

Clancy grins up at the puzzled police officer.

CLANCY
There's a lot of Dick Tracy wanna-bes
out there who spend their days hacking,
cracking, and tracking.

COP
(muttering)
Instead of living.
(normally)
But isn't this like a needle in a haystack?

CLANCY
A field of haystacks. But here we go,
Netstormers reporting three people,
Greeneyes, R2D2, and Termin8,
with intermittent feed problems. So...

Stopping his rapid disconnecting and reconnecting, Clancy scans his screen intently.

CLANCY
R2D2 just thanked me. I--uhhh...
Grimacing, Clancy hunches over, massages his shoulder.

COP
You okay?

Nodding curtly, Clancy pops down a pair of heavy duty painkillers, then resumes typing.

CLANCY
Anyway, a nickname search...who is
R2D2?...tells me that his server is
CompLine. He's local, I know him.
He has R2D2's real name and address.

COP
Will he give it to you?

CLANCY
Sure, he's a good citizen who doesn't want
thieves on the Net.
(muttering)
Or a virus in his date-base.

COP
What?

CLANCY
Uh...nothing.

From outside, there is the sudden sound of a landing helicopter. The cop walks to the door and looks out.

COP
There's a chopper coming down. From
Microcorp...you know, that computer company?

CLANCY
Trust me, I know who Microcorp is.

EXT. STREET OUTSIDE APARTMENT - DAY
A large corporate helicopter with MICROCORP blazoned on it settles on the pavement. ED REMICK, a tall,
lean man, leaps out, running low.

INT. APARTMENT - DAY

Flashing FBI ID, Remick strides up to Clancy.

REMICK
Mister Clancy, I'm Tex Remick, FBI.
Y'all come with me, please?

CLANCY
But I'm in the middle of something.

REMICK
Son, you're in the middle of cow
pies compared to where we're going.


INT. MOUNTAIN ROAD - DAY
Behind yellow police ribbons, several COPS measure and study the scene of the crime.
One photographs an impression on the dirt road while the other kneels, measuring tape in hand. COP#1
Five and a half feet from the bike imprint
to where her tires stopped. Pretty damn close.

COP #2
Yeah. See the third, smaller tire track?
A side-car. She gets stuffed
in there, covered in a tarp, and
nobody sees nothing.

Nodding, the two cops then wander over to Jennifer's abandoned red sports car, checking it out admiringly.

INT. HELICOPTER - DAY
Strapping himself into a leather seat, Clancy looks around the plush company chopper, then leans forward
to Remick, speaking over the noise of the blades.

CLANCY
Has Microcorp just purchased the
Bureau?

REMICK
Listen up serious, son. There's been
a sky high-level VIP kidnapping.

CLANCY
Kidnapping? But that's not my area.

REMICK
Nope, but, boy, you're such a four-squared,
jut-jawed he-man from the get-go, that the
head honcho asked for you personally.

CLANCY
And who's that?

Unsnapping his briefcase, Remick tosses out a COMPUTER WORLD magazine. On
the cover is a slight man with a bad haircut standing awkwardly with boxing gloves and a
microchip disk on his shoulder. The title reads "WATCH OUT BILL, HERE COMES
PAUL...(AND DOES HE HAVE A CHIP ON HIS SHOULDER).

CLANCY
Paul Galens? Oh my God, Paul Galens
has been kidnapped?

REMICK
Nope. His wife, Jennifer.
Flipping up his laptop briefcase computer, Remick starts tapping in keypad instructions.

REMICK
An hour after she went missing, this
showed up on the Internet.
Remick spins his laptop to face Clancy.

CLANCY
Holy shit.

On screen is a real time video feed of Jennifer. Under a glaring spotlight, she sits bound and gagged to a
chair with a propped up shotgun taped to her head.

CLANCY
Where is this coming from?

REMICK
I'm sure that's what Mister Galens
is going to ask you.

CLANCY
I can't believe...Paul Galens asked
for me? Really?

REMICK
I take it this man is God to you computer types.
Well...
Remick points out the window down to a monster house under construction on a huge estate.

REMICK
...you're going to heaven.

INT. HI-TECH OFFICE - DAY
It's a computer Disneyland inside a large office, but PAUL GALENS is too stressed out to
play. His trapped wife is on a dozen screens and OFFICE STAFF members surround him as
Clancy and Remick walk in.

GALENS
Call Bob at AT&T, get access to his local
relay stations. Tell Ben at AOL I need
password data-bases for all his regional
accounts here.

REMICK
Mister Galens? Tex Remick, FBI.
Galens spins around, stares at Remick and Clancy, then steps past Remick to shake Clancy's hand.

GALENS
Peter Clancy! The Netstorming
Internet detective!

CLANCY
You? You know me?

GALENS
I know of you.
Galens abruptly whirls towards Remick.

GALENS
And I know I'm a suspect! I'm the
husband, you must suspect me, you
have to. But see those?
Galens gestures up at the two video cameras in the room corners.

GALENS
Video with burned in time code.
You'll see I've been here all day.
And night. Hell, I live in here!

REMICK
All right, sir, just stay calm now.

GALENS
Done!
Slipping out a vial, Galens pops a tablet in his mouth, then holds up the vial as if posing for a commercial.

GALENS
Lithium...takes the man out of manic.
Galens' laugh is brittle and short. He walks Clancy over to a laptop showing Jennifer Galens.

GALENS
They're IP masking false PP-TP trails
with ghost servers and mirror sites.

Clancy nods in understanding. Remick looks at Galens as if he was speaking in Swahili.

REMICK
Uh, fellas, this computer stuff...
you're going to have to take me
by the reins and walk me slow.
Grabbing a note pad, Galens quickly sketches out a small TV camera hooked up to a computer.

GALENS
My wife is in front of a video camera
plugged into a computer.
Galens draws out a spiral line leading out from the video camera computer to another computer.

GALENS
It's sending the picture to another computer,
which we can't find yet.
Galens draws a thick line out of the second computer.

GALENS
This computer is sending the picture
to another computer...in North Korea.

Galens quickly slashes in dozens of lines from all directions coming back onto the paper.

GALENS
Her web-site is coming back on the
Net from foreign servers in Asia,
Africa, and Europe.
Galens points at the video of Jennifer on screen.

GALENS
This is the original feed, straight
from the kidnappers. We paid off a
government official in North Korea
to relay it back to us. He'd get shot
if he's caught, so that's all the
help we'll get from those paranoid
bastards.
Peering at the sketch, Remick traces the spiral line between the two computers.

REMICK
This is a phone line, right?

GALENS
Right. If we can find it, we can
trace it back and find my wife.

CLANCY
But it could also be a satellite
link. You'd hook the camera up
to a dish, no bigger than this...
Clancy holds out his hands cupped close together.

CLANCY
...aim it out a window line of sight
to another dish somewhere else. Be
almost impossible to intercept.

GALENS
And if they're using a cell phone
like this to transmit...

Galens points to a cell phone hooked up to a nearby laptop computer.

GALENS
...they're probably using a stolen number
from a big corporate account. A back trace
would just take us to an innocent source.
Clancy taps the second computer on the sketch pad.

CLANCY
Also, this may not be stationary. It
could be in a car driving around, or
in a plane flying somewhere. Be damn
hard to get a fix on it.

GALENS
And if the feed's encrypted...well,
even if we could find it, all we'd
see and hear is noise and garbage.

REMICK
Okay, okay. Enough.
Sighing heavily, Remick shakes his head.

REMICK
Sweet prairie dogs, who'd a thought
computers would be so complicated?
My seven year old runs one.
Remick snaps open his briefcase.

REMICK
Well, shoot, boys, these bad guys
may be high tech, but the crime is
old-fashioned.

Clearing a desk, Remick unrolls out a map.

REMICK
We got a one hour gap from when your
wife went missing to when she appeared
on the Net.
Remick traces a large circle on the map.

REMICK
You can only go so far in an hour,
say, a hundred mile radius of the
kidnap site. So we search and we
wait for the ransom demand.

CLANCY
You've had no ransom demand yet?
Galens shakes his head no. Frowning, Clancy looks at the computer screen image of the bound Jennifer.

CLANCY
And why do the kidnappers want the
world to see this? This isn't a
hostage taking for political reasons.

Galens swallows, goes pale.

GALENS
Oh God, maybe they don't want money.
Maybe they want to kill her, knowing
I'll be watching and helpless.

REMICK
Now, sir, we don't know that.

GALENS
And you don't what my life is like.
You make a billion dollars, you make
a billion enemies.

REMICK
Just relax, they'll contact you.
Excuse us. Clancy...

Clancy winces as Remick suddenly grabs his shoulder to lead him away from Galens.

REMICK
Son, that man is shakier than a
heifer in rutting season. So you
stick to your knitting with these
computers, keep your thoughts and
wonderings to yourself. Comprende?

Just as Clancy nods curtly in agreement, a loud metallic, robotic voice comes on the speakers.

VOICE
The dictatorship of the Net is over.
All eyes turn to a giant web-site monitor showing Jennifer Galens bound in her chair.

VOICE
Access must not be controlled by the
elite. Microcorp must surrender Odin
to the people. That is all.

The screen falls silent. Remick looks over at the pale, ill-looking Galens.

REMICK
That's the ransom? What's Odin?

GALENS
Odin is this company...my life. I...
I feel sick.

Galens walks away, heading to the washroom. Clancy motions Remick over to his computer.

CLANCY
This is Odin.
A click on the mouse and the animated, bearded face of the Norse God Odin appears. Clancy speaks
into a protruding computer microphone.

CLANCY
Hello, Odin.

On screen, Odin glowers, lightening flashes, thunder rumbles. His voice is deep, God-like.

ODIN
Hello, human. You have summoned me?

CLANCY
Odin, I know nothing about computers,
can you show me around the Internet?

ODIN
Speak and Odin will guide you.

REMICK
Son of a buck. That's amazing.

CLANCY
Odin is the first Net guide with UVR
...universal voice recognition. It'll
dominate the Net, put Explorer and
Netscape out of business. Except...
Shaking his head, Clancy rolls his eyes.

CLANCY
...there's a big lawsuit over Odin. Galens
invented it, his ex-partner has the rights,
someone else patented it, his wife's in the
middle, it's a mess. If Galens loses,
Microcorp is toast.

FEMALE VOICE
Excuse me. You're FBI?

Remick and Clancy turn around in the direction of the voice to face VICKI, a heavy-set woman with short
bleached blonde hair. Her brown eyes are magnified by thick glasses.

REMICK
Yes, ma'am.

VICKI
I'm Vicki...Jennifer's sister.

Vicki glances over at a computer screen showing Jennifer. Blinking back tears, she swallows heavily.

VICKI
I want to find her.
Remick puts a strong sympathetic arm around Vicki.

REMICK
Vicki, we all do.
Abruptly, Vicki spins to face Clancy.

VICKI
You're Peter Clancy, the Netstormer.
It's not a question, but Clancy nods in agreement.

VICKI
I can help you.

CLANCY
Okay...how?

VICKI
My sister swore me to secrecy, but I
know she wrote back doors all along
the Net. I can guess her passwords,
they're most likely family things.
We can crack server data bases and...
Vicki pauses, glances at the listening, frowning Remick.

REMICK
Is that legal?

Silence, guilty silence. Vicki looks away.

REMICK
I'll take that as a yes.

Remick sweeps his hand at the computers.

REMICK
Get to work.

Clancy and Vicki sit side by side on twin computers. Vicki enters commands in quick, experienced moves.

VICKI
Let's start with the major servers,
I know Jenn slipped through their
fire walls on a regular basis.

Out of the corner of her eye, Vicki catches Clancy glancing from the computer image of Jennifer to her.
There's a big difference between the slim, red-haired Jennifer to the heavier, fake blonde Vicki.

VICKI
Yeah, I know, she got all the good genes.

CLANCY
(startled, caught)
What? No, I wasn't thinking...

VICKI
Ah, it's okay, no big deal.
Vicki grins slightly at Clancy.

VICKI
And just between us, she dyes her hair...
Ruefully, Vicki touches her peroxide locks.

VICKI
...too. And she diets forever. Makes
her cranky as hell. Me, I'd rather
eat and be healthy.

CLANCY
Vicki, I wasn't--

There are sudden shouts of surprise and alarm from the staff members. Clancy looks over at a monitor.

CLANCY
Uh oh.
On screen numbers have appeared under Jennifer. They stay frozen at 2:00:00:00, then suddenly start
running, counting down, the split seconds blurring. A frantic Galens runs out of the washroom, points at
the shotgun taped to Jennifer's ear.

GALENS
Oh shit! We've got two hours, then
they kill her at zero!

REMICK
Whoa, easy, sir, we don't know that.
They could be just jerking our reins
a bit.

As Remick reassures Galens across the room, Clancy notes with surprise the look of hatred that flashes
across Vicki's face when she sees Galens. Putting her hand on his, Vicki whispers to Clancy.

VICKI
Don't mention me to Galens.

CLANCY
You guys don't get along?

VICKI
He doesn't even know I exist. I
prefer to keep it that way. I was
so against this business merger they
called a marriage that I boycotted
their wedding.

And with that, Vicki busies herself with her computer. Across the room, Remick's cell phone rings.

REMICK
(answering)
Remick. What? Okay, good.
(to Galens)
We might have something.

EXT. NEAR FOREST CABIN - DAY
A chopper hovers overhead as barking dogs straining at their leashes lead a three man search team to an
old weathered cabin. Wearing a green helmet with a small video lens poking out of it, ALLAN EVERS
looks up to the helicopter.