A moody piano opens the ident of shots 99 as our oil-soaked protagonist finishes off his work in his garage. Using the headlights of a car he illuminates his gallery, which he observes with pride. After a time he reaches for another magazine to fillet and select new trophies for his collection. Alas for our magpie, it's a copy of shots, which he tosses roughly aside in frustration. shots: unfortunately just advertisement.
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