Fade up on a shot of Maddy "Bad Die Job" Feguson, emulating her far cooler Cousin Laura in the copycat ensemble of a clear plastic bodysuit and accessorizing with those black splotches of dirt dotting her pasty face. Poor Maddy. Someone forgot to tell her that that look is, like, so last April's dead teenage demon attack rape victim chic. Cut to a shot of Albert "Mr. Brown" Rosenfield, Dale "Mr. Blue" Cooper, Harry "Mr. Pink" Truman and Hawk "Mr. Orange" White-man-stole-my-last-name, ambling toward the camera in exaggerated High Drama for Dummies slo-mo through the woods by day. The trees blow moodily. The minor chord holds forebodingly. The opening credits are just filthy with James Marshall's name. The good news? There is no good news.
Albert, who a certain FBI honcho (not to mention Twin Peaks executive producer) named COLE promised would not be coming back to town, holds in his hand a tiny plastic evidence bag with the paper letter "O" in it and reports, "The short answer is this is the work of the same ghoul who killed Laura. More fan mail." The "O" was again extracted from under the ring fingernail of the victim. Further evidence reports that "there were strands of fur clutched in her right hand" from a stuffed white fox. Truman leaps into action, telling Cooper he's going to contact Leland to find out how to get in touch with Maddy's family. Gee, seems to me the route of least resistance would be crossing the border to Montana and talking to, oh, I don't know, the only people who live there? Cooper asks Truman not to make any calls just yet, asking for twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours for what? Cooper is one ripped tank top and a line of bodily-worn machine gun ammunition away from Sly Stallone-ing the place up when he fixes his gaze on Truman and takes himself a mite too seriously: "To finish this." Yay, RamboCop! Between that kind of bad-ass, renegade crime fighting and a comparison of Kyle and Sly's career trajectories for the better part of the 90s, I'm hard-pressed to tell them apart right now at all. Oh, that's right. Cooper wasn't in Get Carter. Thank God. Well, there's always the third remake.
Albert beckons Cooper over to his patch of sinister woods to offer the following uncharacteristically unhilarious piece of advice: "I don't know where this is headed. But the only one of us with the coordinates for this destination, this hardware, is you. Go on whatever vision quest you require, stand on the rim of the volcano, stand alone and do your dance. Just find this beast before he takes another bite." Actually, that was a little funny, in an accidental, purely "Word Up" kind of way, though Albert left out the rallying cry of "When you hear the call you've got to get it underway" which, in all honesty, is what always inspires me to do my best work. Albert walks away and Cooper observes in reply, "Now all you sucker DJ's who think you're fly, there's got to be a reason and we know the reason why." Actually, he doesn't say that at all. What he really says is, "God help me, I don't know where to start." Hawk, as per usual, is burdened with the latest contrived foray into faux me-like-pretty-cloud-of-white "Native" spirituality, offering, "You're on the path. You don't need to know where it leads. Just follow." But the words of the good and great Chief He Speaks With Banality seem not to comfort Cooper during this stressful time. No romance. No romance. No romance for me. Coop.