"It was almost too easy," thought aloud the shadowy President of Hollywood, as a gloved hand emerged from behind a leather chair to reach for a rock glass of brandy. No one had ever seen his face, but his influence was felt in all corners of the world.

"Soon," hissed the mysterious figure. "Soon, my master plan will come to fruition. The golden age of '80s and '90s sci-fi action madness will run wild over a placid movie-going public. And, to think, all I had to do was bring two septuagenarian, plastic-faced men out of retirement and force them to star together in a futuristic prison-break vehicle."

Over on the dimly lit wall of the President's office hung a poster embossed with bold lettering, all studded steel and crude red underlines, but what stood out most were two names: Stallone. Schwarzenegger.

Off in the corner, a hairless cat hissed in recoil at the sight of Escape Plan. It is said that animals sense evil more viscerally than humans, and what this cat could see was what no one else would come to realize until it was far too late: in addition to Escape Plan being a return to the kind of dumbshit macho popcorn fare of Stallone and Schwarzenegger's early career, it would also be the thing to bring about the end of days.

"The Expendables triptych and Schwarzenegger's shrug of a comeback with The Last Stand - those were just the beginning," cackled the President of Hollywood. "Wait until the unwashed masses feast their eyes on the story of Breslin, the professional prison-break artist, as portrayed by marble-mouthed Sly Stallone. Wait until they see him enter the high-tech super prison and form a shaky alliance with Schwarzenegger's Rottmayer, and bond over jokes about vegetarians. Watch them gasp at the sight of Vincent D'Onofrio and 50 Cent with whatever they're doing. Mwa-ha-ha-ha!"

The hairless cat vomited in the corner. The evil was just too much.

After another sip of brandy, the President of Hollywood called out to his assistant, "Get me John McTiernan and Walter Hill. The end, it is nigh!"