American Ultra -

He smiled. "Technically, I only saved a roller rink."

The tomato plants were thriving. The sloth comic had gone viral. And Mike Howell, former sleeper agent, was standing in his Oregon kitchen, wearing an apron that said "Kiss the Cook," burning toast. American Ultra

"Easy for you to say—"

Three hours later, they were hiding in the basement of a abandoned roller rink called "Skate Galaxy." Phoebe had duct-taped a spatula to a broom handle as a spear. Mike was pacing, chain-smoking a cigarette he didn't remember lighting. He smiled

She cupped his face. "Then don't listen." And Mike Howell, former sleeper agent, was standing

He was too clean. Too crisp. His smile had the tensile strength of piano wire. He bought a diet soda and a pack of gum, and as he paid, he said, "The pelican flies at midnight."