Good morning, Mr. Bryce.
I trust the pickup ran smoothly.
Hand-off was clean. No stops till the exit point.
Clear roads all the way, chief,
just as you predicted.
Thank you for agreeing
to an earlier departure time, Mr. Kurosawa.
I'm honored that you and your wives
have entrusted a triple-a Protection service today.
Moving red to green option, coming in on your vector.
Get the engine started, I want an immediate takeoff.
Air space has already been cleared.
Roger that.
All channels moving to restricted air space.
Shall we?
Mr. Kurosawa...
Another triple-a delivery, sir.
Stay with him till he's airborne.
- Yes, sir. - Canvas is clear?
Nothing for miles, chief. Almost boring.
And what's our motto?
Boring is always best.
Move! Move!
Client down! Client down!
Code seven! Code seven!
Jesus!
It's like a goddamn milkshake in here!
Bravo one down.
We need a clean-up team in here now!
Repeat, bravo one down.
Fucking piece of paper I've got here.
...I'm gonna beat this motherfucker's...
Holy shit.
Mr. Seifert.
- Are we ready to go? - "Are we ready?"
I've been waiting!
What the hell took you so long? It's half past 9:00!
Apologies. I had to make some preparations-- Mr. Seifert.
Mr. Seifert!
It's best if I go through doors first.
- Okay? - Okay.
You don't know what I'm dealing with here.
Come on, let's go, let's go.
- Double time. - You don't understand.
These people are animals!
They're probably here already,
- just waiting for me to leave. - I can appreciate your concern,
but I assure you, you are perfectly safe.
All you need to do is exactly what I tell you.
Mr. Seifert? Mr. Seifert? This way, please.
All right. Is it not enough cocaine, or too much?
They say you're triple-a rated.
Is that a real thing?
Let's just focus on you dying of natural causes, shall we?
Soon.
That's my car.
Take a mental picture of it.
I find it safer if we're using a car
that blends in with the surrounding traffic.
Well, that was easy. In fact, practically nothing at all.
Boring is always best.
I trust you'll reduce your--
- What? - This is Michael Bryce.
I'm an Executive Protection Agent,
fully licensed and bonded within the Eu.
Fuckin' hell. I know it's you. I've got caller ID!
Such a fucking dick. You got a pickup for me or what?
Yes. I've extracted my client from 27 Saint George street.
Clean-up is required.
On the seventh floor, north stairwell, I've left a French national
employed by the Taray Crime syndicate.
You'll find two more in the south stairwell.
On the roof, you're gonna find another who's gonna need some dental work.
In the alley, there's two gentlemen who may require some counseling.
One more in the east office on the sixth floor under construction
and one on the number three elevator.
Oh, oh, oh!
Parking garage, under the Rolls-Royce in space five,
there's a pound of plastic explosives,
you might want to call the bomb Squad.
Check that. Make it the fire department.
Is that my car?
I'm afraid so. Have a seat, it's been a long day.
That was a custom Rolls-Royce, one of a kind.
I thought that was an unusual color.
Was that periwinkle?
I did find this in the backseat.
Scraps!
Precious, aren't they?
It smells like ass in here.
Buckle up.
This car certainly isn't triple-a rated.
It's not even fit for animals.
Keep moving!
Everybody go home!
Get out of the way!
Have a look there.
Knock on the doors.
How's your English?
I don't know much English, Mr. President.
"The only way for the country to progress"
is by eradicating the scourge of genocide
"blackening our country and our livelihood."
I appreciate your modesty.
I hope we're not... Disturbing your family.
They are on holiday.
Good for them.
Family makes a man whole.
I could have you executed for treason,
but another would simply stand a little bit higher on your corpse.
There must be some other lesson I could teach you.
As I said,
there is nothing more important...
Than a good education.
Professor Asimov,
can you please tell the court what happened next?
Then... I was taken
to one of Dukhovich's internment camps.
I was there for three years
until he was finally overthrown.
Arrested like the monster he is.
Thank you, Professor Asimov.
Your honor, I request that this entire testimony be disregarded.
Without any evidence, this is merely hearsay.
Sustained.
The trial of former Belarusian President.
Vladislav Dukhovich continued today
with emotional testimony from many of his country's victims.
But while powerful to hear, Dukhovich's attorneys say
they are nothing more than the lies of his enemies.
Long one of the world's most brutal dictators...
Who stands accused of ethnic cleansing on a massive scale.
An unprecedented level of security is in place around the courthouse.
Even the airspace above this City is closed.
So far, the prosecution has been crippled by the lack
of any hard evidence against Dukhovich himself.
'Numerous witnesses
who were expected to testify have disappeared.
Is there anyone brave enough to come forward with evidence
and finally put an end to his brutal reign?
Mr. Kincaid, this is lnterpol's offer.
In return for your testimony against former President Dukhovich,
your wife will receive a full pardon from all jurisdictions.
You're going to pardon an innocent woman?
That's mighty fucking white of you.
Assuming we accept this arrangement
for Sonia Kincaid,
there's still the matter of an agreement regarding my client.
He will receive
this letter recommending leniency.
Mr. Kincaid is a contract killer
facing two dozen counts of murder in ten countries.
Absent a legitimate deal,
he will never breathe free air again. Under no--
Sonia goes free.
We're all set, Director Casoria.
Let's get this gentleman to the Hague.
Mr. Kincaid, this is Agent Roussel.
She'll be leading a security detail,
which will escort you to the international criminal court.
You know, Dukhovich's men have killed every single witness brought against them,
and my security detail is a dozen off-duty cops?
These are the most highly-trained officers in Europe, Mr. Kincaid.
We have taken every precaution
to make sure that your involvement is completely classified.
It's a secret?
That makes me feel so much better.
Well, I can assure you,
even if there was an attempt,
we're more than prepared for any assault.
You prepared for that assault, motherfucker?
Uncuff me, give me some car keys, a couple guns, I'll meet you guys there.
The court's deadline is at 5:00 P.M. tomorrow, Mr. Kincaid.
That gives us 27 hours to transport you from Manchester to the Netherlands.
If you want to help your wife, you should get moving.
Okay, Inspector Clouseau,
let's see what these elite troops of yours can do.
Come on, guys, let's go.
Agent Roussel,
I don't have to remind you of the importance of this.
- No, ma'am. - And don't doubt what he's capable of.
I won't, sir.
- Take a left on Kirkland Avenue. - Yes.
What a pretty little town. Old, narrow streets,
buildings nice and close,
lots of great views from all those windows.
This route's been wiped clean for us.
Nothing to worry about.
Is that right?
How's that nose of yours doing?
Take a diversion route.
Got a boyfriend, Roussie? Significant other?
I need you to be quiet, Mr. Kincaid.
I'm just saying, now might be the perfect time
to write one of those "I'll always love you" texts.
Relax, motherfucker.
If you hear the shot, it wasn't meant for you.
Two-two-one, ten-four en route.
Fuck!
Cover me!
Move! Move!
Cover me!
Move! Move! Go! Get that door open!
Go! Go! Alpha Squad, with me!
Agent Roberts, protect the witness!
Parker, take the left flank!
Shit! We need more backup!
Follow me!
Fuck!
Agent Roussel! God damn it, somebody!
We need backup!
Turn around!
It's ready!
Come on!
Lay down some cover fire.
Fuck!
- Show me your hands! - Bitch, please!
- Put these on. - Fuck that.
Interpol's compromised. You know that.
Either you shoot me or watch me bleed out.
We gotta get off the street.
There's a safe house not far from here.
As a car bomb has exploded in Bishopgate green,
near Coventry City Center...
Don't even think about answering that fucking phone!
The only way Dukhovich could've known our route
was if he had somebody on the inside.
Now, I need medical supplies, and you need help.
So, if you're gonna call somebody,
they have to be totally out of the loop.
I've had the black diamond service
four times now, you understand?
Four times. The car still smells like a cemetery.
Are you washing the car with old assholes?
Or...
Just help me to understand.
Just a second here.
Hello, Amelia.
I'm texting you an address in Coventry.
You need to get there immediately.
Bring three units of o-negative blood.
I'm doing very well, thank you. How are you?
I don't have the time for this, Michael.
I have a job I need you to do.
- Pass. - I wasn't offering. I'm telling you.
I have a job you're going to do.
I'm not gonna let you charm me into this one, Amelia.
Okay, let's be clear.
I'm not any happier about this than you are,
but I don't have a choice.
Well, thank god I do.
No, Michael, you don't.
Because if you're not where I need you to be,
I'm going to expose you and your work to Interpol.
That elite triple-a status you want back so badly,
- I'll make sure you never get near it. - You're threatening me now?
Not you, her. Are you threatening--
You can't just threaten me into taking orders from you.
I guess we'll see. You're three hours away. I'll see you in two and a half.
Three-- okay, okay. I guess we will. Jesus Christ.
Here, we're gonna load all these into the car, okay?
We're gonna take the car out in the front, and then burn it.
This place is like a war zone.
We got bodies everywhere.
Our unit's compromised. Everyone's down.
Get those guys ID'd.
And I've got no sign of Agent Roussel.
Maybe 15 to 20 dead mercenaries, heavily armed.
Media circus is in town.
That's not the worst of it.
Kincaid is gone.
Coventry, every available Agent.
Report back to me with any updates.
Yes, ma'am.
There must've been a leak.
I told you, there are too many agencies involved.
Get to the Hague.
See what you can get out of Dukhovich.
I'll try.
And alert the penitentiary in Amsterdam.
Have them triple the guard around Kincaid's wife.
Got it.
Mrs. Kincaid, your attorney.
Did I tell you you could turn around?
What do you want, you useless piece of shit?
Baby, baby, it's me.
My bad
what do you want,
you fucking hijo de puta motherfucker!
I just wanted to hear your voice.
Fuck you!
There, you heard my voice.
The only reason I'm in this shit hole is so that they can get to your sorry ass!
How you doing? Made a shank yet?
What for?
It's prison, baby. You got to protect yourself.
It's a Dutch prison, Darius!
What are they gonna do, beat me with a clog?
You got a view at least?
Just a whole lot of corny Dutch buildings.
There's one with a huge fucking clock on it.
Like that's what I need right now.
Do they have those flowers you love?
Irises? They come from there, right?
Fucking tulips, Darius.
What kind of a piece-of-shit husband
doesn't remember his wife's favorite flowers?
You never remember anything.
What's our anniversary?
I'm gonna make this up to you, baby.
You see, that's what I'm talking about, Cabrén.
Darius, is something wrong?
Not a thing, baby. Not a fucking thing.
Then I want to hear it.
- Hello? Sonia? - Hello? Darius!
You fucking piece of shit!
You fucking shit!
Go ahead, you might as well finish the job.
Why am I here, Amelia?
A high-value transport.
Oh, high value? Oh, I don't...
I don't really do high value anymore. These days I'm more in the...
Mid-level coked-out attorney market.
Why do you think that is?
Seriously, Michael?
Because of you.
You used me to climb the Interpol ladder, and here we are again.
You up for a promotion?
You have to blame me for every little bump in your road, don't you.
No, these aren't bumps. No, no, no bumps.
Just one dead Japanese arms dealer.
- I had nothing to do-- - "...To do with."
Do you know what happens
when a triple-a rated Executive Protection Agent
loses a client?
Triple-a. I was up here, yeah?
Then I opened up to you. Why wouldn't I?
I was in love with you.
And I fucking told you his name.
It was the first time in my entire career I revealed a client's name.
I trusted you.
Now I'm down here. The dead guy's up here.
I'm sorry, Michael, you hit a rough patch.
"A rough..."
A 300-pound investment banker's ass exploded four bags of heroin
in the backseat of my car last week.
Those aren't leather seats, those are cloth.
- Okay, Michael... - Want you to take a minute
to think of what that clean-up might be.
I don't have the time for your insane shit, okay?
At that point, you sell the car.
- I never used you! - The depreciation--
I just left you!
Because you couldn't forgive me for something I didn't even do.
Transport is in there.
Is that blood, dude--
What the fuck?
You know how long I've been waiting for this?
Oh, no, no. I'm not gonna look.
Motherfucker!
Hey, hey, hey. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Let's talk about this, okay?
Even a dumb-ass like you is smart enough to keep one in the... pipe.
Oh, shit.
And nighty night.
- Darius Kincaid. Jesus Christ. - ...Michael.
This is who you want me to protect? My shirt!
Fine, fine.
You get the feet, I'll get the nostrils.
The trial of former Belarusian President.
Vladislav Dukhovich took an uncertain turn this week,
having recently survived
a dioxin poisoning attempt that left his face disfigured.
- Authorities are keeping Dukhovich... - Interpol wishes to have a word.
Quite the dust-up in Coventry this morning.
But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?
You've come here to lodge a complaint?
I've come for my money. I delivered as promised.
I gave you Kincaid as exposed as you'll ever get him.
Small security detail,
practically a rookie leading them.
I can't do more than that. Let's be fair here.
You think it's fair that you want something for nothing?
In my country...
...we would skin you like a cat.
Would that be fair?
I come from nothing. I work all my life...
Serving the people.
And then they come into my country
and they took it all away!
And now they lock me up like a rat,
feed me poison!
Is this fair?
When Kincaid is dead,
you'll be paid in full.
You know he's a murderer, right?
You're playing nurse to a murderer.
- A witness. Mmm-hmm. - Really?
Twenty-seven times.
That's how many times this asshole has tried to kill me, 27-- 28!
Fucking Prague!
If Dukhovich is acquitted,
he'll be back in power next week.
I won't let that happen.
Good.
You should take him to the Hague.
I can't!
There's a mole inside Interpol.
- It's already cost me 12 good officers. - Good?
That's subjective. Nice. Maybe they were nice.
I'll make it simple for you; If I stay near him, they'll find him.
So I gotta risk my life protecting this coffin magnet over here?
No, no, no. You gotta put something
- in the pot. - How about your career?
- How about it? - Your precious career.
You do this job for me,
and I'll get you back to elite status.
Yeah, you don't have that power.
I've got connections.
You want back in? I can put you there.
Why would I trust you?
Why?
Because I've never lied to you, Michael.
You're terrible at almost everything,
but you're good at keeping people alive.
Keep him alive... please,
and you get your dream life back.
And as bonus, you'll never hear from me again.
Good.
Still.
Where are you?
Setting up operation at Coventry Police Headquarters.
You got nothing from Dukhovich?
Are you surprised?
- Ma'am? - Busy.
I've picked up activity at our safe house in town.
Is this something I need to know right now?
No, not normally. But, yes, it should be vacant.
And you believe it's not?
Well, the access code was activated
without identity authorization.
Could Kincaid have gotten inside?
But it's on a revolving encryption.
Get a team over there. Now!
And where is Agent Roussel?
Sorry, got to go.
Good luck.
I believe I know where Kincaid is.
What the fuck is all this?
You're a fugitive.
Fugitives wear restraints.
No, no, no, not the cuffs.
I'm talking about these whack-ass, hipster clothes I'm wearing.
Yeah, luckily I brought extra.
Lucky for who?
Shit. Am I wearing underwear?
Those are for me too, in case I have to change your pants again.
Not a fan.
You know they call them swinging dicks for a reason.
How about we never speak of this again?
Shit. Interpol protocol.
When that phone rings and nobody answers, they're gonna send officers to the door.
And there they are.
Yes, we're setting our perimeter.
Comfy?
So, what happened to little miss Interpol?
Agent Roussel's gone.
Damn! I liked her. She's spunky.
This building has two stairwells,
- no fire escapes... - No fire escapes
and no adjacent rooftops.
You know, you're not the only observant motherfucker on the planet.
I go through doors first.
I check to see if it's clear, then you follow.
Really? You think that's necessary?
- My job is to keep you out of harm's way. - Shit, motherfucker.
I am harm's way.
Two hostiles, maybe more.
I don't suppose I could have a gun?
No. We're gonna take the north stairwell. Let's go.
Fuck!
- It's him! - Come on!
Thank god you're here.
I don't know what I would've done without you.
Well done. Guess what happens now?
Shots fired! Shots fired!
All units sending in nine-nine.
Now we have a new problem.
I like to keep things a little more subtle.
See? Boring is better.
Okay. That's very loud.
It was empty anyway-
we're identifying heat signatures on the rooftop
moving in a northbound direction.
Copy that! Go, go, go! They're on the roof!
No, no, no. No odds in that jump.
It beats the hell out of whatever's gonna come through that door.
No. Just gotta...
We just gotta find a more intelligent way...
Motherfucker! Ahh! Shit!
Holy fucking shit.
Secure the roof! Go, go, go! Delta Squad with me!
- They're on the north side! - Copy that!
Made that jump on one leg.
I made that jump without jumping. Let's go.
So, what's your next trick,
showing me how we escape without escaping?
Let's just try to get to the car without killing anyone, all right?
- Is this your car? - One of them.
I remember shooting at you in a Jaguar.
Buckle up. If we get in a high-speed chase,
I want you strapped in.
I'm more worried about the wheels coming off this bitch
when you reach the speed limit.
Back in the day,
we wouldn't have even stolen this piece of shit,
and we stole everything. I remember one night--
I know all I need to know about you. All your early arrests,
your father in and out of prison, you following in the same footsteps.
Did your little research, did you?
Prepare for a test, there are no surprises.
And you grew up wanting to be a cop
till you found out wasn't no money in that shit.
So you joined the CIA, sharpened your skills,
so you joined the CIA, sharpened your skills,
then decided to open your own shop,
pimp yourself out to the fat cats.
I didn't even have to do no research to know that shit.
It's written all over your punk-ass.
Can't wait to hear what I'll do next. That's great.
You know, why don't...
Why don't you lay back and keep from getting spotted.
Get comfortable.
That's a good idea.
Smells like ass back here!
Bet that jag never smelled like ass.
These your electrolytes?
Facial recognition identifies this man
as Michael Bryce.
But you already know that, don't you, Agent Roussel?
You two have a history.
Long time ago.
You slipped Kincaid into our own safe house,
then brought in this...
Executive Protection Agent?
Official channels had been compromised. What did you expect me to do?
Clearly, our office security's been breached.
The red notice stays. You, however, can go.
I'm placing you on leave.
You will surrender your weapon and credentials.
You are going to be telling
this story for years, Amelia,
from inside a very large office
or a very small cell.
Well, I like my odds.
The only way Bryce and Kincaid don't make it to the Hague
is if they kill each other first.
Amelia.
She's making a mistake.
We need to plug our leak.
Now, this Bryce, do you trust him?
With something like this, yes.
I'll speak to casoria,
get her to allow you to come to the Hague with us.
But no more secrets.
Thank you, sir.
Search for car, plate FJ56MHV.
They'll have identified the car with the traffic cams by now.
And you. Welcome to fugitive life.
Until I turn you in.
Just need to find a different vehicle,
older model, no alarm. Right here.
Luckily, I came prepared.
You know, if you're gonna be a while, I can just go in there and get a room.
There's an art to low-impact,
high-efficiency breaking and entering, but...
Art's subjective.
And you're bleeding again.
You know, for a dude that runs around killing people,
you've got this really strange thing about bleeding.
It's inefficient. And I don't kill people, I protect them.
Hector Ramirez.
Hector Ramirez was an assassin.
Yeah, I know. I trained him.
Who was holding a knife to my client's throat.
And you killed him.
No. I saved my client.
I think Hector might have a different perspective on that.
Oh, is that so? Well, here's the thing.
I was a triple-a rated Executive Protection Agent.
- You just made up that triple-a shit. - No, I did not!
And if guys like you-- If sociopaths like you
weren't running around trying to kill my clients, then no one would get hurt.
Triple-a, yeah. It sounds like you ought to be selling life insurance
or fixing my fucking transmission, or something.
Well, you're uninsurable, trust me.
And you said "was."
- "I was a triple-a, x-rated dickhead!" - No, I said "am." Get in the fucking car!
Get in the fucking car!
Jesus fucking Christ.
You definitely said "was."
"Was" as in,
"I used to be a triple-x dickhead driving a jag,
but now I'm rolling around in this shit-wagon."
Put your seatbelt on.
What happened? Lose your edge?
Drop focus? You slip up and let a client get popped?
Never slipped up.
Well, how did "am" become "was"?
I don't actually know. I mean, how does a so-called expert assassin
get busted by Interpol?
Love, baby. Straight-up love.
See, I'm doing this job in Geneva, right?
Some dude washing the wrong dude's money.
I get a call.
What?
My wife's been in a car accident,
- bad one. - What?
So, Geneva dude gets a pass, I jet back to Mexico City,
go straight to the hospital. Bopped up in Sonia's room,
two dozen Agents waiting for me.
Played by the heart.
Happens to the best of us, man.
I mean, sort of like how Agent Roussel took you from here
to here... to here.
Assassin and eavesdropper. You're a real double threat.
Well, you were whining like a bitch so loud, I heard you through the wall.
Agent Roussel and I aren't any of your concern.
So, she dumped you because of all your tight-assed,
"boring is good, look before you leap,
"put your seatbelt on" shit?
She didn't dump me.
Oh, motherfucker, I know she dumped you.
I'm just perusing all the reasons why,
and there's a plethora of those motherfuckers.
- Plethora? - Yeah. It means a lot.
I know what plethora means! It just doesn't apply here!
And not jumping off the top of a roof, that's logical, that's safe.
You know, wearing a seatbelt: Logical, safe.
Let me ask you something, how many times have you been shot?
- Counting today? - Yeah.
- Too many to count. You? - Yeah, I bet.
Zero.
Now, we both know that's bullshit.
That's not bullshit, okay? This was a little flesh wound.
You just kind of zinged it right there.
Didn't even require a band-aid. You got lucky.
Yeah, the rock shifted just as I took the shot.
- You lucky motherfucker. - Fuck!
Fuck!
Fucking Prague.
Yeah, Prague.
You never even took one for a client?
Nope. Never had to.
Yeah, but the question is, would you?
See, if I'm paying triple-a rates,
then I'm looking for that full-service shit,
you know what I'm saying?
That extra "a" stands for "ass,"
yours, between mine and a bullet.
Being prepared for everything
means that that situation statistically just won't occur.
Bryce, you cannot be prepared for everything!
Life is gonna bloody us up, okay?
You just gotta put a band-aid on that shit and keep rolling!
That's really beautiful, man.
Do you ever just write stuff down? I don't know, throw down a haiku or two?
- ♪ I saw the sign ♪ - ♪ nobody ♪
- ♪ It opened up my eyes I saw the sign ♪ - ♪ nobody, nobody, nobody ♪
- ♪ Life is demanding ♪ - ♪ nobody gets out alive ♪
How'd you like that, motherfucker?
Do you have any idea how stupid you sound?
I mean, what a fuck-up!
You lost my husband, and you're like,
"can you please help us find him?"
Why the fuck should I?
That is your fucking job, motherfucker!
But, obviously, you suck at it.
You received a phone call today from your attorney.
So?
Well, we asked your attorney,
but... he said he didn't have any contact with you.
What? Are you fucking kidding me?
Okay, that's it! I've had it with this lawyer!
He's an alcoholic. He calls me completely drunk,
and he starts saying the most inappropriate things.
Like, for example, what he likes to do to his wife's ass.
That is a disgusting place to hide a child's toy!
And you know what?
I don't need to listen to this shit!
Then he forgets about it,
but I'm stuck with the images in my head!
Mrs. Kincaid,
if you know where your husband is,
you need to tell us.
It's for his own safety.
I'm sorr-- you're worried about my husband's safety?
No one in this world can kill Darius Kincaid.
The man is a cucaracha,
and I mean that in every sense of the word.
Sometimes you just want to crush his little, filthy head with your shoe,
but he won't die.
That motherfucker is unkillable,
so you can relax.
But wait, no.
There is one important thing that you should know.
Motherfuckers, get out of my fucking cell.
Great.
Now!
And I want that lawyer fired!
I want that lawyer fired! I want a good one, professional lawyer!
I have rights! Human rights!
Okay, you can take a five-minute break.
Good evening.
Can I help you?
We need to see your cameras.
Sorry, sir, that's for management only.
I got you!
Where we at?
I backtracked west.
West is the wrong direction.
Thank you. Thank you.
They'd be expecting us to take a direct route.
The fuck is that you're eating?
Postpones fatigue.
Refuels glycogen and electrolytes. I got you one, too,
while you were taking one of your world-class naps.
I'd stay awake if you let me drive.
Thank you. That's really generous of-- no!
I gotta piss.
Use that.
Timeline's not built for another break.
Your dick might fit in here, but mine...
Plus, I need every drop of this shit to tolerate this ride with you.
Just pull the fucking car over.
Jesus Christ.
It'd be a lot easier without these cuffs,
or this fucking underwear.
Kincaid!
Hey, asshole!
Ugh! Fucking god damn it, that's not mud!
You think I'm a fucking idiot?
Well...
You did think that cheap whiskey was piss.
Fuck!
Where the hell did that come from?
This is what happens when you mess with a perfectly laid plan.
- Give me a gun. Give me a goddamn gun! - I got this! I got this!
There's more than one.
A-ha! Perfect deduction, Sherlock.
Draw their fire so I can take a look.
All right. Go!
Ow!
- Shit! - Okay.
Three shooters in a row, all lit up.
So, what do you want to do?
While you can't come up with a plan, they're gonna kill us.
So here's the plan.
- What the fuck? - You take eleven o'clock, I'll take one.
Let's see who gets to twelve first.
Okay. On three. You ready?
One...
I said on three. You shot early.
Yeah, before they did.
Let me break it down--
So much for your intricately calculated travel plans.
That's why I was trying to bounce on your ass.
See, I'm safer on my own.
There's no way that they could've known
- where we were. - Well, they did, and now they're dead.
This yours? Is this your cell phone?
I might've taken that off some dead merc.
You might've...
You know, they can track a cell phone.
That's why I use a ghost chip in mine, so they can't track the phone.
I mean, that's how they know where we were!
Here I am, I'm plotting courses all over the country,
and you're carrying a location beacon in your pocket!
My bad.
Your bad?
You don't even understand how 21st century technology works! I mean,
how have you stayed alive this long?
While all you guys are wasting your time planning and aiming and deducing,
I just do my thing,
and my thing has always been better than your fucking thing.
Great. There you go.
That's just great.
I'm glad that your thing has always been better than mine.
You're not gonna take this gun?
No, you keep that gun. Use it to shoot me.
No, no, no, I was gonna shoot you with this--
Shit!
There go the guns.
Well, look on the bright side.
We get the bad guys' Van.
This field smells like your car.
Dude, I said I was sorry about the phone.
Who knows, maybe your plan would've worked.
- So, what about your other plan? - There's no plan!
The plan is we're in a cow pasture, that's the plan.
I'm talking about your Agent Roussel plan.
That's why you're doing this, right? Get her back?
You think becoming a triple-a card-carrying dickhead
is gonna give you an all-access backstage pass to Agent Roussel's ass,
- and she'll fall in love. - I get it.
- You're gonna be the guy... - And your life will have meaning again.
...that the other inmates come to for advice. They're very lucky.
Motherfucker, please.
I've eaten hamburgers that know more about women than you.
- You, my friend, are a romantic retard. - Hey!
Just 'cause I want to get my business
back in order, that doesn't make me a shitty person.
And Amelia has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with this.
Oh man. You are so in love, it is crazy.
Christ, do you ever shut up?
Why is everything always about love with you?
Well, what else is there?
I mean, take away the guns, the money, the travel, the perfect shot
through a motherfucker's earhole from 300 meters.
I mean, none of that shit means dick if I can't tell Sonia about it.
Well, I guess Amelia's just not as special as Sonia.
She sounds great.
- What, she cheat on you? - No.
- Try to kill you? - No.
'Cause Sonia chopped off part of my ear with a machete one time.
She sewed it back on, but...
It was two, three days before our shit got real again.
Where'd you guys meet, Christian Mingle?
No. A bar in Honduras.
One of those places where nobody knows your face and name.
I'd just come off a job.
Some dude kidnapped the wrong dude's daughter.
I was sitting there chilling,
when I noticed this waitress getting hassled by these guys.
I got up to help her, when she unleashed
the most amazing display of violence and beauty.
I had ever seen.
When she severed that dude's carotid artery with a beer bottle,
I knew.
I knew right then.
We slow danced all night.
She sounds like she's gonna make a good mother someday.
Lights.
Need a ride?
Yeah. We're trying to catch a ferry to Amsterdam.
- Yeah, I can get you there. - Yeah?
Jump in.
Hey, hey, hey, there's eyes all over Amsterdam for me.
That's where Sonia's locked up.
It's a quick in and out. I got a place there.
- You got a place in Amsterdam? - Yeah.
Is that where you keep the jag?
You know what? Why don't you go fuck yourself
and the horse you-- hello.
Hello, beautiful sisters.
Whose lap will I sit on'?
One more!
Your stop, boys!
You take care, sisters.
Bye, Kincaid!
Go with god!
This man's killed over 150 people.
Two-fifty, easy.
Yeah, but they love you.
Me, they want to perform an exorcism on.
Question for a higher power.
Who is more wicked,
he who kills evil motherfuckers
or he who protects them?
You really believe you're the good guy?
My first contract... I was...
I don't know, 16, 17.
There was a guy who broke into a church.
The preacher was still there, so he told the guy,
"look, you don't have to steal anything. Take whatever you want."
Dude wasn't there for the loot.
He wanted to hurt somebody.
Slaughters the preacher,
displays his body on the altar for his congregation to see.
The Bible says never to take revenge,
to leave it to the lord.
But I wasn't prepared to wait that long.
So, when your moral compass gets around to pointing at me,
yeah, you'll be pointing at one of the good guys.
And how does one of the good guys get connected
with a piece of shit like Dukhovich?
I didn't know everything the dude was into.
That's an easy excuse.
Look, you know everything about every client you ever had?
Nope. I don't decide whether my clients live or die.
Michael son of a bitch.
Coitig oh, come on, come oh, come on.
When's the last time you paid rent on this safe house?
I haven't done a lot of Amsterdam jobs lately.
I just need to get my gear.
The problem is that... All the windows are polycarb.
They have... extra layers of laminate,
and obviously there's a Hetzger alarm system,
which is the premiere unit on the market.
It's got three fail-safes.
But if I can just...
What the...
- Jesus Christ! - Nope. Darius Kincaid.
But there are no words. I am amazing.
That's so cute!
You look so happy here.
So, is Agent Roussel
the only photograph-worthy girl in your life?
Been busy working.
Whoa!
You must give me your designer's number.
We got four hours to court, let's get cleaned up.
I need to change my bandage and take a shower.
The hot water still work in this bitch?
Upstairs.
- Elevator? - No!
Fuck!
Counsel, approach the bench.
How can you allow Kincaid's testimony?
A hired killer given a sweetheart deal.
A man like that will say anything to save himself.
Kincaid has no sweetheart deal.
His wife will go free, not him.
The testimony will be allowed,
assuming you produce your witness by 5:00 P.M.
- Michael, you should've been here by now. - Yeah. Just a couple of bumps.
We're on our way.
The judge isn't giving us any wiggle room.
You have less than four hours now!
Well, we're gonna be there in half that.
Then why are you calling me?
Right. Well...
I'm calling you because I've been thinking, and...
I forgive you.
Yeah.
It feels good to say that.
I forgive you, Amelia.
Are you fucking kidding me'?
What?
You're seriously doing this now?
- No. What? - And forgive me for what?
- There's nothing to forgive! - No, no, no, look, I thought that you...
- Just get Kincaid here! - Fucking prick!
Darius?
Fuck!
Yeah. We've got the whole area covered.
If Kincaid shows up, he's ours.
Stay alert.
Copy that.
Yeah, tulips.
That will be 25.
Easy.
Ay, mi cucaracha.
Couldn't you just had the flowers delivered?
Needed a personal touch.
You were about to get his personal touch,
if I hadn't followed you.
All right, I appreciate you.
And the guys who started tracking you a few blocks ago.
You mean the guy you snatched in the bush,
and the two you left knocked out in the park?
Like I said, I appreciate you.
Okay, so if you knew that they were out there,
but you still felt it was important to deliver these flowers?
Sonia's gonna really love those flowers.
I sure fucking hope so.
Now, this is as close as I'm gonna be to her
for a very long time.
It had to be special.
First.
I'm first. Look... you were saying?
Tell me something.
The day you and Agent Roussel
took that picture I saw in your place,
what kind of things would you have done for her to make her happy?
Anything. I loved her. Trusted her.
She sold me out. Case closed.
Well, that's cold. Maybe, just maybe,
you ought to give her a pass on this.
I mean, I gotta tell you, honestly,
there's not a lot of women who'd put up with your shit.
That's inspirational, thank you.
What I meant to say: There's no women who would put up with it.
- That's better. - You're an annoying motherfucker
with all your rules and shit.
I mean, if she can put up with that, she must be a pretty special girl.
She is.
You know, I told her today that I forgave her.
Really? And how'd that go?
Hard to tell.
You know, women don't like to be forgiven for shit
'cause that implies they did some shit to begin with.
I should just forget about Kurosawa.
- What? - Takashi Kurosawa.
He was my client, she exposed him, and he got killed.
Something funny?
She didn't expose your client!
I popped Kurosawa!
I was at the airport for another target.
I spotted him by accident.
Lucky for me. Him, not so much.
Doubled my money on that corrupt Asian motherfucker.
The single most awesome shot I've made in my entire hitman career.
Three hundred meters through a firm, c-cup tittie-sized window.
Hey, I thought you knew I was the one who popped him.
'Zzz
- shit! What the fuck, Bryce! Mother-- - We're done!
That shit was two years ago, man.
You gonna be a little bitch about it?
You're on your own!
Well, good! I'll be safer on my own!
You won't last one hour without me! You'll be dead in a minute!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're about as useful as a condom in a convent.
- Eat my ass! - That's what she said!
- Suck it! Suck it! - Fuck you!
Fucking pussy-
fuck!
Do you have any idea how prepared I was?
No, not really.
No. Every possible scenario I had covered, every kill shot,
every... every angle.
And he fucking ruins my life with one lucky shot
through a window the size of a...
Just a...
There he goes again.
Shots fired! Shots fired!
I hope they kill him. I really do.
Okay.
Even if I did save him, again, you know what he'd say?
He'd say, "I had it all figured out before you got here."
He'd say, "I guess my thing"
just better than your thing, motherfucker."
"I guess bullets are just allergic to me, motherfucker."
This guy singlehandedly ruined the word "motherfucker."
Do you know how hard that is to do?
I was triple-a rated Executive Protection.
I was up here.
And god damn it!
Pass me the magazine.
There he is!
Hi.
Requesting all units, heading south!
Shoot him!
Under the bridge! On your right!
Sorry.
Move! Move! Move! Move! Move! Move! Move!
God damn it!
Who are these guys?
Go, go, go, go, go!
Turn!
He's getting away!
Watch out!
To the right!
- Drop your weapon! - This way!
Fuck!
Hey, Interpol! Interpol!
Fuck!
Shit!
Hurry!
Fuck!
Okay.
A loose helmet is like wearing no helmet at all.
It's not a button strap. It's a d-ring.
Just unthread it through the thing. It's very simple.
Well... or there's-- There's that shortcut.
I ask you one time, polite.
Where is Kincaid?
Honestly, I'd tell you if I knew.
You have my word. Look at my right hand.
See that? That's a boy scout salute.
We're sworn to never lie.
I've taken an oath, so you can trust--
Right in the fucking ear!
Really? Waterboarding? Really?
I was in the CIA. You know, we don't do that anymore.
Okay. Hey, hey. Hold it. Whoa, whoa. Wait, wait, wait.
Here's what we learned. The key to interrogation
is establishing a bond
between the interrogator and the subject, okay?
You know, just sort of like a rapport, okay?
You need me to like you. You need me to like you, okay?
You need me to like you!
I really don't like you.
Okay, okay, okay-
where is Kincaid?
He's right behind you. Scout's honor.
[gunshot]
Oh my god!
Fuck!
Hey, listen, before you start talking,
'cause I know you're gonna start fucking talking,
I just want to apologize for laughing about popping Kurosawa.
I know that shit cost you your girl and that...
Fake-ass, made-up triple-a shit
- you keep talking about. - No, no, no...
No, it was all my fault.
No... I did it all to myself.
Bryce, please! Come on, you didn't do it to yourself.
That's life. Life happens.
Life without Amelia.
Hey, still time to work that shit out.
So, how'd you and Agent Roussel meet?
On a job.
She was...
She was working an undercover op,
very badly.
I was at a client's funeral. Massive heart attack.
I can protect someone from bullets and explosives,
but there's nothing I can do against indiscriminate use of mayonnaise
for 68 straight years.
Technically, I was still on the payroll,
so I was in the building, paying my respects.
Amelia was there with some of her other Interpol Agents.
They were hoping to bust my client's shady and mayonnaise-chugging brother.
Instead of doing things nice and quiet, they got marked, and their target runs.
Oh, yeah.
Leave it to Interpol to turn a really fun funeral
with lots of delicious hors d'oeuvres
into a depressing carnival show of total unprofessionalism.
Just kind of bumped into her.
See, that's what I'm talking about.
It just happened!
You didn't plan it, deduce it,
or Google running into the girl of your dreams.
You just bumped into her,
the same way I just bumped into Kurosawa.
You know, when life gives you shit,
you make kool-aid.
That's not really how that expression works.
Yeah, and that's the beauty of that motherfucker: Life.
Ah. Yeah, well, life, I mean...
Life doesn't usually give you shit, and then turn into a beverage.
That's not... at least where I'm from, that's not how it works.
Look, motherfucker, you don't have to explain
- Every goddamn thing that goes on in life! - If it gives you lemons...
Okay? You don't need a reason for that shit.
...you would make lemonade.
Just shut the fuck up!
It just doesn't work that way.
Breaking news from the Hague
suggests that if a credible witness cannot be produced
within the next hour,
the former President of Belarus, Vladislav Dukhovich,
will walk free and resume power.
This would be a spectacular embarrassment for the international community
and a crushing blow for the many relatives...
They're out there,
waiting for us to make the first move.
I know I would be.
I should've told Amelia.
Told her what?
That I'm a stupid man.
Hey... what if I told you I couldn't protect you?
I'd say you're right.
We'll just go to Amsterdam, I'll help you get Sonia out,
and you give her those flowers in person.
No fucking way.
I gotta help you get back that triple-a shit I fucked up.
Guilt's killing me.
Dukhovich, that motherfucker's gotta go.
Well, it's not gonna happen unless we get there.
Shit, I'd bet on them.
Normally I would, too.
I got a hot tip.
There's a couple of ringers in the game.
We got our choice of wheels.
That's a good-looking jag.
Yeah. I guarantee you if that smells like ass,
it's supermodel ass.
- Really? - Oh yeah.
She blends right in.
- Whoa! - Fuck!
That's responsive!
Jesus. No! I have-- I have a pen knife.
It's just that the gearshift's on the right-hand side here,
and I'm not used to that. It's practically impossible...
Get out of the fucking car.
A three-day adjustment period to figure this out.
- I will bust a cap in your ass, - the clutch--
If you don't give up that wheel.
Have you ever said please
- or thank you... - Please, motherfucker!
Why are we always yelling?
- Get out of the fucking car! - Fine!
Time's just about up.
No sign. They vanished in Amsterdam.
Dukhovich is free.
Michael would never let that happen.
It appears you're wrong about your Michael Bryce.
Hello?
Hey.
Michael, where are you?
We're a couple minutes out.
Look“.
I wanna tell you that I'm sorry.
I wanna say that I'm sorry for, um, for everything.
For Kurosawa, us, it's all my fault.
You know, I act like a...
I act like a fucking child around you.
I can't admit that it's my fault, and I project that onto you,
and, you know, that's not fair.
You deserve better than that.
Why are you telling me this now?
Well, under the circumstances, it seemed like a good time.
We got company.
Huh?
Let's go!
Amelia.
Just want to say that...
I "love" .You.
Jesus Christ! Really?
What happened to the seatbelt rule?
Fuck!
- Look-- - Move your fucking car!
Hurry! Over here!
Michael?
- Michael? - Who this?
Hello?
Agent Roussel, hold on, let me put you on speaker.
What happened to Michael?
He had to bounce.
- Excuse me. Sorry. - Hey!
You know, he really cares about you.
He has a hard time processing emotions and shit.
But one thing his fucked-up brain has figured out,
is he really loves you.
Are you in the middle of something?
Well, actually, yeah, I am.
Look, we'll call you back.
Follow me, hurry! Pass me the magazine.
Watch out!
Okay, gentlemen...
Fuck!
If you wouldn't mind...
The gun.
Yes.
Thank you.
Yo! You about done? Tick took, motherfucker!
He's fucking unkillable.
Fuck.
With just five minutes remaining
before the court's deadline,
the case against Vladislav Dukhovich is almost certainly doomed.
Suspicious vehicle is approaching, commander.
Stop the car!
What's going on here?
Is this what we've been waiting for?
Shit.
I got your witness, Darius Kincaid.
Follow me.
Obviously, your honor,
this has devolved into a complete waste of my client's time.
The prosecution has no witness to present.
Can you empty your pockets, please, sir.
Are you kidding me? Come on!
As we seem to be reaching our deadline,
I have no choice but to declare that this trial has come to its natural...
Your honor, I present Darius Kincaid.
The deadline has passed!
I believe we still had a few seconds on the clock.
How do I look?
You got a little speck of blood on your...
Everywhere.
Will the prosecution please prepare their witness.
- Hi. - My god, are you okay?
Yeah. There's your guy.
- Thank you. - Yeah.
By the way, bumping into you
is the best thing that ever happened to me.
Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth?
Yeah.
Your name is Darius Kincaid?
No. My real name is Darius Evans.
My parents separated when I was six.
My mother remarried a real mean piece of work
named Roger Kincaid.
She figured if I took his name,
he'd keep his belt on more often.
Plan didn't work so well, but the name stuck.
My real father's name is Maurice Evans, preacher.
He was killed a few years later in his own church.
I'm sorry, I didn't...
That's all right. Can't research everything.
Mr. Kincaid, were you ever in the employ of Vladislav Dukhovich?
No. Have you ever met Dukhovich?
Yes. April 17, 2012, he invited me to his palace.
Prosecution exhibit 17-D, palace security logs.
Did he offer you employment then?
Yes, he did.
He wanted me to take out a political rival exiled in the UK.
- I refused. - Why?
Because while I was there, he ordered his men
to slaughter a village outside Polotsk.
I'm not down with killing innocent people.
And do you have evidence to corroborate this?
Yeah.
Go to FTP site raven 257.
Just load it up.
Exhibit 18-d.
We've confirmed the coordinates.
It's asking for a password.
Sorry. Password...
"Dukhovich is a dick," all caps,
except "dick" is lower case.
I wasn't gonna trust Interpol with this shit.
Order!
Judge Order! [Bangs gavel]
Order in the court!
Your honors,
I could save us all some time. May I address the court?
For months, I have been sitting in this chair,
nodding along to this ludicrous charade.
Excuse me.
My excellent attorney was hoping
for the legitimacy of a formal acquittal,
but that is no longer possible.
Thank you, Darius.
So, let us now end the charade.
The charges against me
are entirely correct.
I am the rightful ruler of Belarus!
- Sit down! Order! - As the ruler of my nation,
I will do as I wish without exception, without apology.
- Sit down! Order! - I recognize no authority
- that limits my power! - Mr. Dukhovich, I order you...
Assistant director.
Go do your job, Amelia!
In this trial...
The world community is attempting to make a statement!
Well, now I would like to make a statement of my own!
Show me your phone.
I recognize no authority that limits my powers!
Everybody go!
I will now take my leave with my dignity intact!
Now, that's what I call triple-a service.
Fuck!
Fuck! Medic! Medic! I need a medic over here!
- Lockdown protocol! - Don't move!
We're here live in front of the ICC in the Hague
where a truck bomb has just plowed into a crowd of protesters.
Emergency! It's a critical health situation!
We need immediate air and ground support!
Focus on me, Bryce.
Bryce! Focus on me.
I'd really rather not.
...in effect. All units. All units.
Stay with me, Bryce. Stay with me.
I did my job. You go do yours.
Gotta go get that motherfucker!
Freeze! On your knees.
...tower, airmed one requests priority clearance
to restricted zone bravo for casualty extraction.
Officer, the building is in lockdown.
Dukhovich does not leave his cell.
Let's go!
It's over, assistant director.
Give up.
I didn't want to do this, Amelia. I swear to you.
[gunshot]
Fuck!
Michael! Michael!
- Michael, you hear me? - Are you okay? Yeah?
- Yeah. Yeah. - Good, good, good.
- You? - Yeah.
Oh, no. You're bleeding.
Oh, no, no, no.
I'll get some help.
Stay here.
Hey!
Up on the ledge, dookie man.
You heard me, bitch! Up on the ledge!
The look on your face.
You're so proud.
Darius Kincaid,
about to be a hero, save the day.
None of that matters.
There is no redemption,
no atonement for a man like you.
Your whole life has been but a trail of corpses,
and I will be just another dead body on the pile!
Go ahead!
Finish me!
But don't think for a moment it will change what you are.
I don't give a fuck about all of that!
You fucked up
when you shot my bodyguard.
Who?
Dukhovich.
That's Dukhovich.
Okay, here's what I'm thinking.
Celebrity security.
It's low stress.
Boy bands and shit, right?
One of those guys gets killed, nobody's getting all that mad at me.
Well, we'll figure it out.
We will?
Yo! What a brother gotta do to get arrested up in this bitch?
Can't someone just taser him? I mean, like, a non-lethal taser.
Director casoria. My deal still good?
You definitely held up your end, Mr. Kincaid.
Agent Roussel, why don't you go find Mr. Kincaid some handcuffs.
With pleasure.
You were right to trust your instincts. Well done.
Thank you, ma'am.
- You're welcome. - For what?
I got you a front row seat to the Roussel show,
and I got you that all-access backstage pass
- to that ass you've been wanting so bad. - You did what?
You jumped out of the car, I gave her the 411 on you.
I didn't jump out of the-- I went through the fucking windshield.
Semantics.
Semantics?
Semantics. Yeah, just another way of saying the same thing...
I know what semantics means.
I also know that I don't need love advice from you.
Oh, really? So tell me how that love life shit
was going before I showed up.
You know, she's gonna be right back, and that's it.
Last chance to run.
I'm going along with the program till Sonia's free.
Then I do my thing.
You really think it's gonna be that easy, do you?
Motherfucker, please.
You know when I want some shit to pop, it pops.
Like that shot through that tittie-small window
- on Kurosawa's plane. - That's enough.
- Okay, that's enough out of you. - Show me the face you made
- when that shit went down. - That still stings.
I know you wasn't expecting that shit to happen.
Yeah, I was expecting you
to blow my client's head off.
Did you have that home alone face thingy, like...
Do you guys have handcuffs? Do you have any?
A worldwide red notice was issued today
for contract killer Darius Kincaid.
Kincaid has escaped
from her majesty's prison, Belmarsh.
The notorious hitman is almost certainly armed
and considered extremely dangerous.
Oh, baby...
It's so romantic
that you broke out of prison for our anniversary.
No way was I gonna miss it this year, Corazón.
Ay, mi cucaracha.
Happy anniversary.
Happy anniversary, motherfucker.
- ♪ You can slip ♪ - ♪ slip ♪
- ♪ you can slide ♪ - ♪ slide ♪
- ♪ you can run ♪ - ♪ run ♪
- ♪ but you can't hide ♪ - ♪ hide ♪
- ♪ nobody gets out alive ♪ - ♪ nobody gets out alive ♪
- ♪ no fucking way ♪
- ♪ it's all about the choice you make ♪ - ♪ fucking choices ♪
- ♪ when the ride is over ♪ - ♪ hey ♪
- ♪ you see the one that says get in ♪ - ♪ hey ♪
- ♪ nobody gets out alive ♪ - ♪ nobody gets out alive ♪
- ♪ nobody gets out ♪ - ♪ nobody gets out ♪
- ♪ nobody gets out alive ♪ - ♪ no fucking way ♪
- ♪ nobody gets out ♪ - ♪ nobody gets out ♪
you tired-ass motherfucker!
Okay, let's go. Turn over!
Be quiet on set, please.
Quiet. Pipe down.
Okay. Stand by, Ryan.
Holding on the church bells.
Hold the roll, please.
Sorry, Ryan. Just waiting on church bells, mate.
Where are they coming from?
Still rolling.
All right, send Max, send Max down, would you?
Max, go find out what the fuck is going on down there.
Jesus, is this the director's cut?