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[meeting with Stathis Borans, now a bitter, crippled recluse
] Martin Brundle
: I saw you on the videotape. You were... Stathis Borans
: Don't sit there! Martin Brundle
: You were there the night my father died; he was working on a cure. Stathis Borans
: That's why you dragged yourself all the way out here? To find out about a cure? Martin Brundle
: You're my only hope. Stathis Borans
: Ah. Oh, kid, the last thing *I* am, is *anybody's* hope. You really don't want to hear about this. Martin Brundle
: I *have* to know. Stathis Borans
: Brundle stole my girl, your mother. Got her pregnant. Caused her death. Dissolved my hand and my foot with fly vomit! I had no love for the man. He "bugged" me! As for the "cure" he was working on: he dragged your mother kicking and screaming into that telepod, that they might be fused together in one beautiful body. So your mother blew his brains out with a shotgun. *There's* your *cure*. Go *away*. Beth Logan
: You bastard! Where's your compassion? Stathis Borans
] I had to give it up; it cost me an arm and a leg! Martin Brundle
: It cost you more than that.
: You can't walk... and you're getting worse... Martin Brundle
: I'm getting...*better*!
: You mean this is mine? This is my place? Anton Bartok
: Your place. Your private place. No more mirrors. No more prying eye. Well go on, take a look.
: Something odd is happening to me and I don't know what it is.