To the naked eye, out the window, tucked against the
wall of cars, a large tarp. To the thermo, the still
warm inner workings of the muni bus. Faint outlines of
the engine, drive train, even seats and frame. Bingo.
Spartan takes a deep breath. Loosens up his right
shoulder. Loosens up his left. Checks the gun on his
right hip. Checks the gun on his left. They both cross
draw. Reaches down to the bag at his feet. LAPD in
reflective letters on the side of a backpack. Spartan
yanks some kind of rope out of it.
Isn't that for getting people out
of burning buildings...
Slaps a carabiner onto a big eyebolt by the door. They're
dead center now over the complex below. He opens the
door. Jumps out.
EXT. BLIMP - NIGHT
Spartan falls three hundred feet from the blimp. Dead
silent. The line runs free behind him. It's a giant
fireproof bungee cord. As the downward force of gravity
and the upward pull of the bungee become exactly the
same, Spartan stops dead in the air for just the briefest
moment. Whips out a Bowie knife and slashes the cord
above his head. Falls free the last ten feet to the roof
of the building. Lands on his feet. Lightning cross
draw. A gun appears in each hand.
EXT. FORTRESS - MAIN BUILDING - ROOFTOP - NIGHT
A lookout pops up on Spartan's right. Spartan clobbers
him. Another lookout pops up on Spartan's left. Spartan
ducks, rolls quietly, clobbers him, too. Listens. No
one's taken notice. Holsters the guns. Moves in towards
the roof hatch.