I hear them outside: "does he always type this late?" "no, it's very unusual." "he shouldn't type this late." "he hardly ever does." "does he drink?" "I think he does." "he went to the mailbox in his underwear yesterday." "I saw him too." "he doesn't have any friends." "he's old." "he shouldn't type this late." they go inside and it begins to rain as 3 gun shots sound half a block away and one of the skyscrapers in downtown L.A. begins burning 25 foot flames licking toward doom