EXT. OCEAN AVENUE — DAY
(Metal SCREECH from down the block; the GIANT ROBOTIC SHARK is grinding the street to filings as it charges. LOUISE crouches over BOB, who's out cold on the sidewalk, phone facedown, wig slightly askew.)
LOUISE(muttering, fanning him with her hand)
I hope those pills actually work… come on, Dad!
(She SLAPS his cheek.)
LOUISE
WAKE!
(SLAP.)
LOUISE
UP!
(SLAP SLAP.) The grinding stops. Louise blinks, looks up—
LOUISE(relieved, then surprised)
Mickey?
(BIO-MECHANICAL MICKEY—plating scorched, eyes wide—has braced himself in front of them, chrome fingers sunk into asphalt.)
MICKEY(wobbly smirk, trying for cool)
Oh hey, Louise. Could you wake your dad up? I think this guy is a little over my weight class.
LOUISE(hands on hips, instant offense)
Did you just call my dad fat?
(They both laugh—a beat of gallows giggles—)
MICKEY(realizing his grip is slipping)
Whoops.
(He loses it—WHOOSH—and disappears straight into the shark's gaping maw.)
LOUISE(sharpscream)
MICKEY!
(Bob's body jolts. He stands—robotic, sleepwalker-stiff—then inhales like a vacuum. He plants his feet, chin down, SAITAMA POSE. His belly swells with the breath—RIP—apron and shirt tear, REFORMING as a ridiculous, perfect lattice of abdominals; forearms snap taut, sinew like cables.)
(He winds a single fist. The air around his knuckles PINGS—tiny pops, static snapping—like the atmosphere is carbonizing from the clench.)
(The shark DIVES. Time tightens.)
LOUISE(awed whisper, backing clear)
Okay… okay, yes.
(THWAM—BOB'S PUNCH meets the shark's NOSE TIP. The head BENDS BACKWARD like a diving board, while a shockwave RIPPLES THROUGH its body. The outer armor blooms into glittering DUST, sloughing away and revealing—)
(—MICKEY, suspended inside the mouth cavity amid severed cables, blinking in amazement.)
(The FINAL RIPPLE hits. The remaining skeletal frame SHATTERS into harmless chunks that rain across the street like aluminum confetti.)
(Mickey twists and LANDS in a three-point skid—graceful, yes; also very clearly MISSING AN ARM.)
MICKEY(cheery despite everything)
I always wanted to lose weight in the upper body.
(Bob exhales. The heroic posture dissolves; he STAGGERS BACKWARD and collapses into a DEEP, LOUD SLEEP, snoring like a content walrus.)
FLASHBACK — INT. MORT'S FUNERAL HOME — EARLIER
(Muted lighting, tasteful lilies. LOUISE perches on an embalming-room stool, swinging her feet. MORT fusses with a clipboard, offering a gentle, awkward smile.)
MORT(soft, conspiratorial)
You know, sometimes I wish I had a cool daughter like you.
LOUISE(barks a laugh)
Ha!
(She plunks a ZIPLOC OF HAIR CLIPPINGS onto the counter.)
LOUISE
Trade?
(Mort produces a discreet brown bottle labeled "ROAM-AZEPAM (for sleepwalking)" with a pharmacist's flourish.)
MORT(hushed)
Dose lightly. Roam, don't roam-roam.
(They exchange goods. Smash back—)
BACK TO SCENE — EXT. OCEAN AVENUE — CONTINUOUS
(A car screeches up from the opposite direction of Bob's punch—LINDA'S SEDAN. Inside: LINDA white-knuckled, GENE breathless, TINA serene with sketchbook.)
LINDA(spilling out of the car, half-sob, half-brag)
Bobby! My Bobby! Did anyone see my Bobby? Because I saw my Bobby!
GENE(pointing at the air where the shark used to be)
Robark! Shabot! Debris-rito!
LOUISE(gesturing to Sleeping Bob, proud)
He did the thing. The nap thing. Ten outta ten, no notes.
MICKEY(lifting his stump with a shrug)
Uh—small note. I'm… down an arm. It's fine! I got a spare metaphorically.
TINA(holding out her drawing to Mickey, calm)
I drew your calves. They're strong but emotionally available.
MICKEY(genuinely touched)
Wow. Thank you. They do a lot of the heavy standing.
LINDA(kneeling by Bob, smoothing his hair/wig area)
Look at him, sleeping like an angel who beat up a boat store.
GENE(to Linda, sudden realization)
Mom, your car horn made my brain do yoga earlier.
LINDA(waving it off, flustered pride)
We'll talk about Mommy's… honk later.
(SIRENS in the distance. Bits of shark clink to a stop. Louise pockets the empty pill bottle like it's a trophy.)
INT. FISHOEDER ESTATE — SECURITY ROOM — SAME TIME
(A cavernous room. Walls of monitors. One screen shows the intersection from a STOPLIGHT CAMERA, replaying the shark's swift defeat. FELIX FISCHOEDER paces in a silk robe, unraveling.)
FELIX(losing it, to a trembling HENCHMAN)
Do you see that? Do you see that—my beautiful aquatic investment! Ruined!
HENCHMAN(timid)
Should we… inform Mr. Pesto, sir?
FELIX(spinning, eyes wild)
I know how to deal with PESSSTS!
HENCHMAN(hopeful)
Pesto?
FELIX(impatient, dismissive flap)
No—pests. Germs. Call Dr. Yap. We're going to disinfect the city.
(He slams a fist on the console; sanitizer dispensers hiss to life like ominous turrets.)
SMASH TO BLACK.