Dennis is now sandwiched between Raquel and Mercury, the three of
them dry-humping their way to every man's glory.
The beat gets LOUDER. The action heavier. The atmosphere more
narcotic. People are stripping off their clothes, sweating like
fiends. It's a virtual orgy.
Dennis laughs, reveling in the hedonism. Everything rises to a fever
(over the music)
Fuck, I need a drink!!!
Raquel just smiles -- then Dennis notices a DROP OF SOMETHING spatter
his hand. It looks like blood. Dennis looks up, concerned --
-- MORE BLOOD DROPLETS are falling. Raquel's face is sprinkled with
them now. Dennis stops dancing. What is this? Some kind of fucked up
Raquel turns her face toward the ceiling, as if washing herself in a
summer shower, now the other club goers are looking up too --
BLOOD SHOWERS DOWN
from sprinkler heads in the ceiling, drenching the dancers. The club
goers love it, thrusting their heads back, mouths open wide to
receive the crimson offering.
Horrified, Dennis recoils, turning towards --
whose face morphs into a preternatural snarl. Her canines extend,
tapering to razor-sharp points. Her tongue flicks, lizard-like as
fingernails sharpen into claws. All this while the whites of her eyes
BLEED RED, pupils oscillating hypnotically.
What's wrong, baby?
Dennis SCREAMS, pushes away from Raquel, only --
-- Mercury has fangs now too. In fact, everyone in the club does,
with the exception of poor Dennis. That's because they're all
Dennis tries to run, but the burly Doorman blocks his exit, brutally
smashing his fist into Dennis' face.
Dennis falls, dazed. The club-goers close in around him. They make a
game of it, shoving him from one person to another, their pale faces
leering like twisted jack-o-lanterns.