Image of a syringe dropping to the floor.
The syringe goes out of focus revealing a man kneeling on his hands and knees, screaming in pain. The click of a microcassette player starting playback and then a voice echos out.

"My name is Darius Rucker, and this is a pretty fucked up world we're living in. I can't take credit for the change that's coming but I'm willing to take the blame. What yer feeling right now is your fingerprints knitting themselves into the same pattern as mine. Your marrow is starting to produce blood the same type as mine and your liver is aching like hell trying to process it. Within fortyeight hours you'll come out the other side and any forensic evidence you leave behind will point to me. You want to save the world don't you. <laughs> Go on out there and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

A pounding, camera tracks to the front door busting open. A woman, H, rushes in with a first aid kit in her hand and a machete at her hip.

"Stupid old tape machine, it's going to lead them right to us."

Sirens in distance, getting closer, helicopters are visible from the window. H drapes the still weak man's arm across her shoulders and lifts him to his feet, carrying him out the door of his apartment and to a stairwell.

Ground floor, police in swat gear are piling into the elevator leaving two regular uniformed officers watching the front door, disappearing just before H and the man emerge from the stairs. As they pick up their radios to call for back up H throws her machete at the first and drops the man to rush forward and tackle the second, knocking him out.

Man struggles up to his feet. "Come on, we don't have much time."
Jump cut to outside. The woman breaks the window of a car and the two get in. She is driving and he is slumped in his seat. Foggy, he looks at her and asks. "What just happened? I don't understand any of this. Who are you?"

Close up on her eyes "I'm Hootie... just like you."