Tarzan kicks and spins, kicks and spins. He's a one-man fighting machine. Tarzan moves into slow motion, sweeping the leg of another MWF, who flies into the air and groans. Tarzan monkey-jumps over to a fallen MWF and hits him over and over again, swinging his arms back and forth. Tarzan so angry! Another MWF is behind him, grabs him, and pulls him back. Tarzan moves into slow motion again, falls onto his back, and rolls the MWF over his shoulders. He then bitch-slaps the MWF. Oh, the abs! So pretty! Tarzan monkey-jumps to the other MWF who got up again, swinging his leg and kicking the MWF in the face! Tarzan monkey-crawls through the rain on all fours. He spins. The cymbals kick in, and Tarzan stands up. He's triumphant. He's soaking wet. He's amazing-looking. Holy cow. I hope his hair stays wet and in his face for the entire episode. I hope it's only this shot, of him panting and half-naked, as "tribal" music alternates between flute and congo drums.
Dammit! Another bad guy is making his way quickly up the stairs. This one's the guy who spotted Tarzan out the window. Thanks for finally showing up, dude. He's without ski mask, so maybe he's slightly important. He opens the door all slowly, but stands right in the middle of it, so that it's not really covering anything or anyone. He looks around, and slowly realizes that all the MWFs are unconscious, drowning in rainwater. He walks out onto the roof, anyway, his face instantly soaked. His flashlight gun is getting all wet! Whoa! Tarzan does a flip in the air, spinning toward the MWF, kicking his flashlight gun right out of his hand! Awesome! Tarzan picks the MWF up under the arms and flings him out of the way. The MWF yelps and flies through the air, and falls flat on his face. And yes, we get another shot of Tarzan, his face covered, his chest exposed, naked and panting. Hold it. Hold it! Dammit! That MWF won't give up! Tarzan walks toward him. I'm glad, because the monkey-crawl really hides the abs. The MWF is gasping, trying to do something with the hand trapped under his chin. Tarzan quickly comes into focus, and whips his head to the side, his wet clumps of hair flying afterward like dreads. Tarzan looks. Focuses. Tarzan sees something! More MWFs! They barge through the door, flashlight guns blazing. Instead of ski masks, these guys have baseball caps. Man, if that's how they tell rank, how confusing! The main MWF gets up and turns. He sees that Tarzan is no longer standing sexily above him. The other MWFs are so confused they can only stand still, moving their flashlight guns around so that their beams look like the beginning of a rock concert. The main MWF makes his way to the edge of the roof. Majestic music plays again. The man slowly walks to the edge of the roof. He leans over and looks down. The camera pulls back. We can see that the sign on the roof reads "Greystoke." The camera pulls down to the corner of the underside of the roof, where a majestic eagle statue looks over the city. There, dangling from its head, is the incredibly strong, muscularly gifted, fantastically drenched Tarzan. He kicks and hangs, presumably for a very long time, as the music swells, the cymbals clash, and the orchestra has a gigantic orgasm. As do I.