F451

F451
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Storyboard Text

  • Montag snapped the saftey catch on the flame thrower.
  • "I want you to do this job all by your lonesome, Montag.' Your house, your clean-up."
  • The earthquake was still shaking and falling and shivering inside him.
  • "When your you're quite finished,' you're under arrest"
  • He stood there, his knees half-bent under the great load of tiredness and bewilderment and outrage, letting Beatty hit him without raising a hand."
  • Beatty struck him a blow on the head that sent him reeling back. The green bullet in which Faber's voice whispered and cried, fell to the sidewalk.
  • Beatty snatched it up, grinning.
  • We'll trace this and drop it on your friend.
  • "No!"
  • And then he was a shrieking blaze, a jumping, sprawling, gibbering mannikin, no longer human or known, all writhing flame as Montag shot one continuous pulse of liquid fire on him.
  • The other two firemen did not move.
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