..:: Presented by ZarFilm website ::.. ‏.:: www.bolboljan.net ::.
Tonight in London, we have the night of nights.
Damn, there is so much talent in this city.
The Triple-A Rated Bodyguard of the Year Awards.
Who you most excited to see tonight, Mike?
Oh, my God, I mean, there is only one white-hot favorite here, Steve,
and, you know, this bodyguard has had the best client list,
the best evasive-car maneuvers,
the best gun-handling skills.
Christ, he even has the best hair,
and he actually insists his clients wear seat belts.
He's the bodyguard that needs no introduction.
Michael Bryce is the clear favorite this year.
The final award for the Triple-A Bodyguard of the Year.
And the winner is...
my personal hero,
Michael Bryce!
Yes!
What?
Well done, mate.
Good job, Michael.
So heavy.
Whoo!
Wow. Uh, I just...
I just want to, um...
Darius?
- Kurosawa. - Michael-san.
Safe travels.
Why couldn't you protect me?
Ticktock, motherfucker.
And how often do you have this dream?
- Just once... - Oh. Well, that's not too...
- ...a night. - Right.
Mostly when I'm asleep.
It's what my life was supposed to be.
I was the perfect executive protection agent
till I lost it all when Darius Kincaid killed my most important client.
Darius Kincaid, is he a relative of yours?
God, no.
He's a hitman wanted for, like, a zillion murders around the world.
Even took a bullet for him.
The Bodyguarding Committee, they wouldn't recognize it.
Apparently, they don't take kindly to protecting sociopaths.
So in two weeks, I have to go in front of a tribunal
and try to get my Triple-A rated license back.
To deal with the future, we sometimes have to deal with the past.
Quite often validation issues stem from a disapproving father.
I don't have validation issues. I have a licensing issue.
I am a bodyguard without a license.
That's like being a belly dancer without a torso.
I'm thinking you need to forget bodyguarding for a while
and find happiness within.
Within what?
Within yourself.
Happiness in who you are.
I'm listening.
Well, first things first,
I think, uh, all the guns and violence are weighing on your soul.
So you need to get away and clear your mind,
and then you can find your future self.
Wait, wait. Like...
Like a cool futuristic bodyguard with super powers?
No, will you stop...
Stop thinking about bodyguarding.
Do you have a dream vacation at all?
I've heard Italy is lovely at this time of year, so how about Tuscany?
No, no, no. Not Tuscany. No Tuscany. Anything but Tuscany.
Okay, uh, Capri then.
Capri.
Like the pants.
Also, a lot of clients find it helpful
writing journal letters to their future self
or recording voice memos.
What if I call him?
I could leave him voice messages. I have my phone with me all the time.
Joanne, this is great.
I feel like we're making really great progress here.
So do I, yeah.
And don't feel like you need to check in with me again.
I mean, this is very much your journey now.
- My journey. - You've graduated therapy.
Graduated?
Repeat after me.
"No bodyguarding."
N... No...
Body...
...bodyguarding.
- Good. And no guns. - Hmm.
No guns.
Wait. No, no, hold on. Can I, uh...
- Can I keep my pen knife though? - Yeah.
- It's a very functional tool. - You can keep your pen knife.
Just you and your future self finding happiness within.
- Future self. - That's the only two people
that you need to be protecting
- right now, okay? - Right. Yeah. Okay.
- I can't believe I graduated therapy. - I know. Congratulations.
Jesus Christ!
Fuck.
After two years of crippling EU sanctions,
Greece's economy has spiraled into free fall,
causing mass demonstrations, civil unrest and nationwide strikes.
We now cross live as the head of the EU, Mr. Walter Fiscer,
will announce his decision.
In four days' time, at the end of the fiscal year,
the European Union will impose further economic
and financial sanctions on the nation of Greece.
There will be no questions.
We are moving Mr. Fiscer to the extraction point. Prepare the helicopter.
Today's announcement of further sanctions
has led to mass rioting on the streets of Athens,
with thousands of protesters causing widespread damage...
Do you know that Greece is the motherland of civilization?
She gave the world art and science,
culture...
and tragedy.
Aristotle, if this is about the decision...
- You must reverse it. - There is no way.
It was a democratic vote.
You have suffocated my country, Mr. Fiscer.
But mark my words.
In four days' time,
at the exact moment your sanctions will commence,
all of Europe's infrastructure will burn.
Financial markets will collapse,
and millions of lives will be lost...
...while Greece will return to her rightful place
as the center of civilization!
Hello, you've reached Michael Bryce.
Please leave a message and have a Triple-A day.
Hey there, future Michael.
It's today Michael. I'm not great at first impressions.
I just want to say that I think you'd be proud to know that I graduated therapy.
I'm officially on sabbatical, and to be honest,
I don't know why I didn't do this sooner.
It's only been 12 hours, but already the world feels more abundant,
as if somehow it's been waiting for me to make this change.
I think about my license, and I ask myself,
"What was I so worked up about?"
In fact, for the first time since Kincaid killed Kurosawa,
I'm starting to imagine a life without bodyguarding.
Or guns or blood.
I know this sounds crazy,
but this really feels like a new beginning...
Let's go, Breece!
Hey!
- What's going on? - Come on!
I think I know you. Don't I know you?
I'm Sonia Kincaid.
The mafia took my husband. We have to go get him.
No, no, no. I'm not getting involved in this.
I'm under strict psychological orders that...
How did you find me?
Where the fuck is he?
Come on!
Hold on a second. Finally, Darius isn't haunting my dreams...
If you don't help me, I am gonna put my strap-on on
and I am gonna fuck your dreams until they wish they were your nightmares.
Motherfuckers!
First of all, your mouth needs an exorcism.
Second of all, why does he need my help?
He said, "Get Michael Breece."
- He said that? - Yes!
- I thought he hated me. - Come on. Let's go!
You are vile!
What did he say exactly? What was Kincaid's tone?
Who gives a fuck?
Come on! Let's go! Get on it! Get on it!
- Take the gun. - No, I'm not doing guns right now.
I got it.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait, wait, wait!
No, no, no! There's gotta be a safer way down!
There's gotta be a safer way down. Maybe like a switch... Okay.
Really? Go!
So where is he?
They took him from me, Breece.
We were gonna go on our honeymoon.
We were gonna take a road trip through Italy.
I always dreamt of it, you know?
Everything was going to be so romantic, so perfect!
And then this fucking hijo de puta cucaracha motherfucker took off
on the most exciting moment of our first night of our honeymoon.
The next thing I know, the phone rings...
- ...and he's been captured by the mafia. - Baby, I need help!
But he's a workaholic, Breece.
I know he took a motherfucking job.
Well, he is a monster.
I just want him to provide me with the stability
that we need to start the family.
Did you say "family"?
We're trying to have a baby.
May God have mercy on our souls.
We have fucked so hard and so tenderly,
- and in so many different places... - Mmm.
- ...and positions and... - Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.
...and I just haven't gotten pregnant.
You know what I think the problem is?
- Biology. - Yeah.
- Mi diamante is too tight. - Your what?
My pussy, motherfucker.
- My pussy is just too tight. - Oh. Oh.
And since Dario uses all this testosterone, he eats macho shit,
the whiny sperm abort the mission halfway up my pussy pipe.
Hi.
I'm going to be such a good mother.
I can't imagine anyone gooder.
Do you have pepper spray? I'm on sabbatical.
Good evening, gentlemen.
Who's that?
The client we never get to meet?
Your concern is the demonstration.
So please demonstrate.
Data junctions are always encased in tungsten carbide.
The only thing harder is diamond.
There are thousands of data junctions across Europe,
each of them located by classified coordinates.
The bigger the junction you wish to hack, the bigger the drill you will need.
Then it's just a matter of uploading my virus,
selecting the radius of the attack,
weaponizing everything connected to the grid.
Bye-bye.
Satisfied?
It's perfect.
Very.
Kill them.
Copy that. Target locked.
The city of Zagreb has woken to absolute chaos this morning
after a high velocity surge wiped out its power grid.
The climbing death toll has now reached 75.
Mr. O'Neill.
Superintendent Crowley.
With half of Greece in a state of anarchy,
I hope you have a very good reason for pulling me out of a UN Security Summit.
Goddamn right I do. Seen the news?
The damage to the data towers is in-line with a lightning strike
and I'm inclined to agree.
Does this look like the victim of a lightning strike to you?
It also looks like Gunther Von Weber.
He's wanted in 16 countries for hacking, infiltrating and undermining
the world's most secure cyber systems.
Where are you going with this?
My Italian informant Carlo
specified there was a large-scale cyber attack in four days.
Mr. O'Neill,
you have been warned repeatedly that it is against protocol
to deal with unsanctioned criminal informants.
Listen, I have been in Europe for a month, okay?
The only thing you people do is watch fucking soccer.
Not one bar carries Sam Adams.
So the least you could do was let me do what we do in Boston, okay?
We work with the bad guys to get the worst guys.
This was a trial run.
And Carlo has been asked to buy the next coordinates tomorrow night in Portofino.
All right. What do you want?
I want an office. I want a SWAT team. I want an unlimited budget.
And if I solve this case, I want you to send me back to Boston.
I'll give you 24 hours and a surveillance van.
- I need a translator. - You can have mine.
Hmm.
- What do they call you? - Ailso.
Asshole?
Ailso.
Traditional Scottish name.
All right, William Wallace, warm up the chopper.
We're going to Italy.
Darius Kincaid.
A little birdie told me that you were in town.
Remember me? Your old pal Carlo.
I remember killing a bunch of motherfuckers who worked for you.
I remember that too.
Now, I'd like to introduce you to my friend...
...the butcher of Terracina.
This reminds me of the spa back at the hotel.
Really?
Not at all.
These are the tiny cockheads that are holding my cucaracha.
Okay, let's blast this mother...
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay. Look. No.
You go in there guns blazing,
they're going to get trigger-happy inside, then it's "bye-bye Darius."
He asked for me. He needs me. So we're going to do this my way.
That means no killing, no guns and no blood.
Boring is always best. Understood?
Of course not. What?
Jesus Christ!
Fuck.
What have you done?
These fuckers got a little bit too fresh.
I specifically said no killing, no blood and no guns.
- I'm not on sabbatical. - Where is your shirt?
Deal with it!
Baby!
Oh... Hang on.
What the fuck is he doing here?
- I believe it's pronounced "thank you." - For what?
Uh, for saving your life. Again and again and again.
I never asked you to save shit!
Baby! What in the absolute fuck is Michael Bryce doing here?
You said, "Baby, get me Michael Breece!"
What?
No! No, no, no. I said...
Baby, I need help.
Get anyone...
- ...but Michael Bryce. - What?
Didn't he save your cucaracha's ass?
Doesn't mean I got to be best friends with him.
He is the most annoying motherfucker on planet Earth.
Excuse me?
I have 20/20 hearing. I can hear you.
The dead guys can hear you.
And what do you mean I'm the most annoying motherfucker on planet Earth?
How many times have you nearly got me killed?
Not enough.
Come on, baby. Let's get out of here
before he starts the in-flight safety demonstration.
Are you using pepper spray?
I'm on sabbatical.
And I'm trying to find my spiritual awa...
Awakening.
Motherfucker! You wouldn't know chi if...
Hey!
I didn't have to be here, you know?
I had fresh cucumbers on my eyes!
I had a linen robe with an insanely high thread count.
It was like sleeping in a cloud.
Namaste, motherfucker.
Darius?
The hitman, the bodyguard and the con woman.
You dumb fucks just killed Carlo,
the informant that was going to punch my ticket home.
Who the fuck are you?
Interpol Agent Bobby O'Neill. That's who the fuck I am.
And I know who all three of you shitheads are.
Michael Bryce, Triple-A rated bodyguard. Pillar of the community.
Present. Thank you.
Only I know, you lost your license to protect
when Shotgun Willie there killed Kurosawa.
- No. That's under review, okay? - Shotgun Willie?
- Kincaid took that shot... - Moreover...
you're still taking clients.
Name one.
The Sultan of Mandara. Brussels.
Your Majesty, I'm Michael Bryce, your executive protective agent.
Get down! Shots fired!
Contact! Contact!
That's a felony, pal.
Fucking Brussels. Fuck!
As for you two, you're looking at about a billion years in prison.
But today is your lucky day.
Because instead of going to the electric chair,
I'm going to give you a shot at redemption.
Now, I got intel on the mystery big shot
that's about to launch a full-scale cyber attack.
Carlo, my now-dead informant, was gonna buy a hard drive
containing the coordinates for the attack.
Why are you looking at me? I didn't touch Carlo.
Thanks to your bloodbath, that can't happen.
So, you assholes are going to Portofino and you're going to make the buy instead.
Uh, Bob, uh, quick sidebar?
Listen. Uh, first off, I am happy to postpone my sabbatical
if it's going to keep me out of jail.
But I think you should really reconsider working with these guys...
I don't want to go to Portofino.
...because they're, you know, fucking crazy.
Fuck! Wow.
Okay, cum-for-brains.
You are gonna be the goofy bodyguard for Carlo's British mistress.
While Grumpy Pants here
- makes sure that hard drive gets out. - Grumpy Pants?
Are we clear?
We can just take the money and run, baby.
No, I'm tired of running, Darius.
Ah, Superintendent Crowley. How nice.
I don't want to go to Portofino as his bitch!
Did you see how hard that guy punches?
This was supposed to be my honeymoon!
What if somebody's upstairs?
Shut up.
- Okay. - Change of plans.
There's been a heist at a Trieste shipping dock, and it could be related.
But that does not change what's happening here.
Sean Connery here is going to give you a bunch of money to make the buy.
See that? It's your buy money.
One dime goes missing, you try to go AWOL,
and I'm going to slap global Red fucking Notices on all your asses.
- Oh, no! Not Red Notices. - Red Notices? What are you doing?
Not on me!
- What is this, a Nokia? - Listen to me.
- I don't know how to even work this thing. - Look at me!
- I'm looking at you.
You stay in close contact with me, you understand?
- I'll call you all the time. - Shut up. When I call, you answer.
And you, resources are kind of low.
I want you to enjoy your transportation.
Do not fuck this up.
We're definitely going to fuck this up.
- No, oh, my God! - He's gonna fuck us up.
Look at the two people you're saddling me with.
- Get your asses to Portofino! - There's zero chance
we're making it out of this room. He may as well hire a brain-damaged kitten
with yarn to get us out of this thing...
Your fucking honeymoon is over.
I understand some people get cold feet on their wedding day.
But I would have never thought that you'd get cold dick on our honeymoon night!
Baby, baby. I said I was sorry.
Sorry is not good enough. I want an explanation.
Where the fuck were you?
Where were you, Darius? Just tell her.
I took a job, okay?
- Fuck you! Fuck you! - Hey! Hey, hey!
- Fuck you! - Perhaps now's a good time
to talk about the seat belt rule.
Perhaps now's a good time to talk about the shut-the-fuck-up rule.
I'm just saying it because she's driving like a crash test dummy.
Do not criticize my wife's driving, motherfucker.
Hush, hush, hush.
Do you know what I just realized?
I'm not gonna let you crazy motherfuckers ruin my shit.
I'll treat this as a lovely road trip through Italy
- and I'll just pretend that you are still my devoted husband. - I am!
And you, Breece, you will be... you will be the human luggage.
Yes.
We are now on honeymoon.
First of all, it's a mission.
Second of all, and just so we're clear,
I promised my therapist no bodyguarding, so I'm not protecting either one...
- Ow! - This is not mission!
- This is honeymoon! - What the fuck?
Hey! Eyes on road!
Eyes on road!
Babies need to be created
in a stimulating environment.
I must be aroused by sightseeing, shopping, fine dining,
but we are officially on honeymoon.
- For real? Really? - Did she say fine dining?
Let's not do that, guys. Let's just focus on the road here.
All right. I got it.
No, it's fine. You guys just... You guys have at it.
Maybe feather the brake a bit.
Maybe feather the brake a bit!
- Yo, let me borrow your phone. - Why'd you lie to her?
The fuck are you talking about?
You lied to her back there. You weren't on a job.
And how would you know that?
Because there's, like, 22 body indications when somebody lies and you exhibited 40.
If you say one word to Sonia about this, I'll invent new ways to kill your ass.
Wow. You must have done something really serious, Darius.
Honesty's the best policy.
I don't take relationship advice from single motherfuckers.
I don't have a calling plan. Make it quick.
Yeah, I was just wondering if I could...
I took a job, okay?
Portofino has water views, which means that it's perfect for us...
- Oh, shit. - Where are you going?
Sonia! What the fuck?
You better hope that job's worth it, motherfucker.
- What job? - Let me do it.
Who the fuck is this?
We have an availability for Carmen at 2:00 p.m.
Who the fuck is Carmen?
We have tickets to the opera Carmen, and you wanted two, no?
I love Carmen!
Let's make a baby!
What's that thumping? I can't... Stop.
Are you people fucking insane?
Hey! Watch your mouth!
I picked you up from the street, save you from sunstroke,
and now you're calling me insane?
Sunstroke?
You could go to jail for leaving a dog in a hot car.
And don't even get me started on the psychological ramifications
of what I heard you two doing.
- Oh, goddamn. - Is that Valentino?
No, it's mine.
Did... Did you spend the buy money?
Come on. They totally expect us to spend some of it.
No, no. Obviously, I'll cover it with my life savings.
I think that's a great idea.
I'm just going to make a call.
I wish I had some life savings.
Hello. You've reached Michael Bryce.
Please leave a message and have a Triple-A day.
That little mission we're on... Well, we're way off course.
Can't even see the course anymore. Or hear it, for that matter.
Uh, my ears are still ringing from ferocious sexual intercourse
leading to a rolling quadruple climax.
Anyway, I'm venting. I don't want to vent to you.
So, I'll catch up with you later.
Oh, shit!
Who were you talking to?
That's a secret.
- I know your secret. - You do?
You are so lonely that you were talking to yourself.
Ha!
Listen, Breece. You really hurt my feelings.
Do you really think I am crazy?
No! I think you're unusually aggressive.
Uh, violent. But in an unpredictable way.
- I would make a great mother, don't you think? - I think you... Yes.
Oh, my God, a child would be so lucky to have you as its host.
Thank you, Breece. Thank you.
It must be your powerful asexuality
that makes you such a good listener.
Let me guess. Crowley gave us a shit lead.
No one will tell me what was inside. It was a classified military shipment.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
What are the fucking odds?
Seems lightning strikes twice.
We need to get that packing slip.
How would you propose we do that, Mr. Bobby?
What...
- Jesus, what the fuck are you doing? - Son of a bitch.
Last time I saw something like this,
Bruce Willis was drilling a hole in an asteroid.
Bobby, I'm glad you called.
Listen, it's a diamond-tipped drill
and I know there's a link, but this drill was fucking massive.
You were right.
We picked up some chatter in our Rome office.
The mob are making a buy in Portofino.
They're purchasing classified coordinates of a large-scale data grid.
We've got a surveillance team there...
- We have a team in Portofino? - Yeah, moving into position now.
- Get the chopper, get the chopper. - Oh, Bobby.
If this actually turns out to be what you say it is,
I will personally make sure you get your transfer back to Boston.
Oh, ma'am, I can't thank you enough.
Thank you so much. Thank you, ma'am.
We're going to Portofino!
Let's get into character. I'm the bodyguard.
Now, let's hear the British accent of Carlo's mistress.
My British accent is perfect, you fucking cunt.
Okay, let's skip the British accent and go straight to being brutally executed.
How's the sight line, D?
Mmm, mmm.
Just protecting my asset.
We're here to see Vladimir.
I'm the bodyguard.
Security check.
Two minutes out.
Crowley's got a team in place. We gotta call off the buy.
If she finds out I've got those shitheads working for me...
- He's not answering the phone. - Fuck.
What did I tell 'em? Burn the phone. Pick it up!
- Here you go, sir. - Thank you very much. Great work.
- Oh, shit. - What's wrong?
Just a former client and it's fine. He didn't see me.
You must be Vladimir.
Carlo sends his regards.
He thought I would attract less attention.
Well, he thought wrong...
...but nobody's complaining.
Son of a bitch.
- You have the security feed yet? - Getting it now.
Don't move till the buy is made and they're out of the club.
- There's too many civilians. - Roger that.
These are the classified coordinates to the entire European data grid.
Okay?
No, no, no. Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk.
These are proximity-paired.
Until the buyer's fingerprint disarms the bracelet,
I suggest you do not let the briefcase out of five-meter radius
for more than 15 seconds.
If you do, bracelet explodes.
Keep it close.
It would be a shame for that beautiful face to be disintegrated by TNT.
The fuck?
I should just pop this motherfucker right now.
Address?
Oh, the delivery address? In Florence.
Oh, I love Florence.
And I adore culture.
You will deliver to the buyer tomorrow at the Ludovico Gallery auction.
Michael Bryce!
- You have me confused with someone else. - No, no, no.
I'd never forget the face of the man who saved my life in my darkest hour.
- Come on, bro. - Michael Bryce?
Didn't he lose his license when Kurosawa was killed?
No, no, no. He's got me mistaken for someone else.
- It's Michael Bryce! - For the record, that's pending review.
Fuck off!
Hey, guys, it's Michael Bryce...
Why would Carlo hire an unlicensed bodyguard to protect the love of his life?
Right. You're fired.
You're fucking fired!
That's true, baby.
Carlo always has preferred younger women.
Excuse me?
I've seen him with a woman in her 30s.
But never this old.
- Never. - No, no, no. Don't laugh.
- Here it comes. - Old lady, right?
What the fuck did you just say?
You finger-licking shit monkey,
donkey-blowing motherfucker!
That sounded really Mexican.
Shit.
- Motherfucker. - We have a problem.
- This is a fucking setup. - You don't fucking say, vape juice.
Get that case off her. Get me Carlo on the phone!
And here we go.
Gun!
Shit!
Clear the room!
Let's go. Move! Move!
Breece, the gun!
Feel like giving me a hand, Kincaid?
Triple-A, my ass!
All Interpol agents, you are authorized. Shoot to kill!
Interpol. Get the fuck out now.
Shit! Shit!
Breece! Fuck.
Breece, the case. Come on!
Bitch!
Get back! Get out of the way!
Move! Move! Out of the way!
Say my age.
Oh, no.
Breece, I'm famished.
Shall we go now?
Still Mexican.
Breece!
Get to the fucking dock. Now!
Breece? Breece?
- Get out of the way! - Move!
Stay with me, Breece!
This way!
Out of my fucking way, please!
Target heading for the water.
Let's go!
You better say something nice about my Breece.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
We will never forget the time you spent with us.
That was beautiful.
You should've been a priest.
Okay, let's toss his ass in and bounce.
What in the absolute fuck is wrong with you people?
We gave you a sea burial.
- A sea burial? - Well, you didn't have a heartbeat.
I'm wearing Kevlar!
These were your operatives?
I've never seen them before.
Only one number called this phone that Michael Bryce was in possession of.
- And it was yours. - We have less than two days
before this attack happens. Two days!
I gave you a chance.
You went behind my back,
and you employed two criminals and an unlicensed bodyguard.
And now they're in possession of critical evidence.
They could be in on the cyber attack.
Oh, they're not in on the attack, trust me. They're idiots.
Put out a global Red Notice on Darius Kincaid,
Sonia Kincaid and Michael Bryce.
We have a problem.
Three unknown fugitives escaped with the coordinates.
Interpol were all over the scene.
Seems that we have a rat.
Get me Carlo on the phone.
Sir, Carlo's dead.
Find the fugitives. Kill them.
I need the briefcase.
Fuck!
- What's wrong? - You can't be serious.
- About what? - My ribs are broken.
I came down with a little case of 12-gauge shotgun to the chest.
Remember?
Hey, Breece, don't worry.
Sonia's gonna take care of you.
This will make you feel better.
- Thank you. - There you go, baby.
The auction of art works by the reclusive Greek shipping billionaire
is believed to be the last of a long line of assets
he's liquidated outside of his homeland.
It is unknown what his motivation for selling up in Europe is,
but analysts are calling it "financial suicide."
Ooh, that is one hell of a security detail.
Holy shit.
- Magnusson. - Who?
Only the Triple-A Rated Bodyguard of the Year, three years in a row.
They give you motherfuckers awards?
Yes, they give us awards, and we have conventions and everything.
Ain't no award for hitman.
It's called lethal injection.
God, look at him. He's so strong.
Confident. He's like a panther.
Let me see this motherfucker.
Oh, shit! Zento!
That is a good motherfucking hitman right there.
He took a lot of business from me.
- Find yourself a nest. - I'm gonna take the tower.
Whoever wants this briefcase is a serious high roller,
'cause Magnusson's fee is astronomical.
Releasing the package.
I want everyone on high alert.
And bingo.
Oh. That is awful.
It's like Liberace banged a set of curtains.
Magnusson.
Three pigeons on the rooftop.
- They have the stolen briefcase. - Take the shot.
Oh, shit! Zento! Gun!
- Get Aristotle to safety, now. - Get down.
Scatter and converge. Get that case!
They won't know we have five possible escape routes.
They have five possible escape routes.
Should've used a decoy.
It appears they have no decoy, sir.
My God, they're amateurs.
All right, let's go!
Come on!
If you'd listened, we'd have an extraction vehicle waiting!
These idiots don't even have an extraction vehicle.
Bryce, get to the van!
Go! Now!
Move it, Bryce!
Magnusson recognized me, which means he probably knows my moves.
I don't recognize any of these losers. Shoot to kill!
- Bryce, we gotta go! - Just a moment!
- Got it. Go! - Let's go!
Pirate is loose. Keep it in sight.
Breece, watch out!
Wow.
Wow, this guy's handling skills are actually incredible.
Steve McQueen ain't got shit on you.
I think that's the first time you've ever said anything nice to me.
Bryce! Bryce!
Get in the car, Darius! Go, go, go!
Bryce, what the fuck?
Move, motherfucker!
Baby, what did you give him?
Just painkillers.
But he's so delicate.
Pirate is flying west. Keep it in sight.
Oh, no. Not the stairs, motherfucker!
I'm not wearing a sports bra!
Jesus, this guy's a lunatic.
This is no fucking honeymoon!
- This is shitty-moon! - I say we had a pretty great fucking day!
- Are you fucking kidding me? - Shopping.
- Wine tasting, flowers... - Yeah, with someone else's money!
One bird still remaining in flight.
- Fucking opera. - And you fell asleep!
Good afternoon.
- I'd like to offer up a cease-fire. - Oh.
You hand over that briefcase, and I'll gladly undo that bracelet.
Sure.
Bugger me.
That's the end of Breece's idol.
Pirate's flying south. Get the case.
Shit.
Dive!
Did we lose 'em?
No, you didn't lose it.
Oh, shit!
Sonia, get back in the car!
He's reloading. Take the wheel.
What are you doing?
- Hang on, baby! - Dario!
Oh, fuck!
They didn't wear their seat belts.
The three fugitives responsible
for a nightclub shoot-out in Portofino are still on the run...
Phone call for you, sir.
...and are believed to be hiding somewhere in Italy.
Sir, I'm sorry to inform you,
but the three fugitives managed to escape.
...as police search for international con woman, Sonia Kincaid, and...
When you find them, I want them alive.
♪ You're asleep Little Breece ♪
♪ Can you please Wake the fuck up ♪
♪ In your slumber Think of Sonia ♪
♪ And the bomb That's on her wrist ♪
Jesus, fuck!
Hey! What were those pills?
It's just lithium.
Lithium!
Baby, lithium's not pain medication.
Breece, you want some more?
No, don't you come anywhere near me!
I've had it with you two.
I'm sorry to say this, Sonia, but you are crazy!
Hey, you can't talk to my wife that way.
Why not? She'd make a terrible mother.
I wouldn't leave a Chucky doll in her care.
You need to apologize to Sonia right now.
Oh. What, are you gonna shoot me now?
Father of the year right here!
Can't wait!
Hey, hey, where are you going? I said, apologize!
Oh, I'm just gonna ride the lithium out!
Whoo!
Babe, you all right?
I'm great.
Took a bullet for him. Took a bullet for her.
Yeah, old Bryce is just everybody's favorite little bullet caddie.
Okay, game on.
Come on. Give me a sign.
Any sign. Please.
Okay, that is a sign, just not the one I'm looking for.
Anything. Anything at all!
I see what you're doing.
I... You wanna play ball? We're gonna play ball!
Our honeymoon is a delicious fuckery.
I don't have a fetus in my womb, but I do have a bomb on my wrist.
Hey, I said some awful stuff back there,
because I was involuntarily administered lithium.
- Apology accepted. - I'm not apologizing.
I know someone who can help us out.
Just like that gun thing, you can't press doorbells either?
It's just, I haven't spoken to my father since I lost my license.
Oh, so you're admitting you're unlicensed?
You don't understand.
He's the greatest bodyguard who ever lived.
And I'm just me.
What are you doing? What are you doing?
Fuck!
All right.
Mr. Bryce out back. He chop the wood. It be a moment.
I'll get you some water.
This Triple-A shit is a family fantasy.
Hey, Papa.
I never imagined I'd be coming home like this.
I always thought it would be under, uh, different circumstances.
As I'm sure you know, my, uh... my license is under review.
I'm sorry for being such a disgrace.
We really need your help.
Out there in the world,
you're an unlicensed protection agent.
But here...
Here, you are my son, and this is your home.
What the fuck?
Aw.
Just chill.
I'm trying to have a long-awaited moment with my dad.
I get it. You're freaking out.
- Yeah, he's... - A legend, yes. That's weird for you.
But to me, he's just Papa.
No, I'm freaked out because...
Because his voice is so deeply rich in its timbre?
Yes, it's remarkable, but a lot of people...
No, motherfucker, it's not his voice. The fact that he's...
He's a published author?
Huh? What is it, Darius?
Spit it out. 'Cause frankly, it's exhausting
to hear you beat about the bush.
"Around," Junior.
I'm sorry?
The expression is "beat around the bush."
- Interesting. - It's "around."
- Sorry, I'm... - I know who you are.
I watch the news.
Hello, my dear.
Nice to meet you, Mr. Breece father.
- My pleasure. - You have a lovely son.
Can we have it removed?
Well, we'll do our best.
Giuseppe?
Yes, sir?
Make arrangements for a safe house
and the necessary equipment to unlink a Ti-47.
When the fuck were you gonna tell me your dad was Black?
Stepdad. And I fail to see how that's relevant.
Why don't you start seeing with your heart instead of your hate?
Yeah?
- "Relevant"? "Heart"? "Hate"? - You know exactly what I'm talking about!
- All right now, boys. - I'm sorry, Papa.
No bickering under my roof, okay?
Understood.
- Who's hungry? - I can eat.
- Okay, good. Hungry? - A little peckish.
These are all the bullets Dad's taken for heads of state.
Mmm, impressive.
Nothing like taking a bullet to make you feel like a man.
Yeah. I've taken 20 myself.
I took a bullet.
- Yeah? - Yeah, for, uh... for Darius.
I saved his life. Right, Darius?
Breece took a bullet for my husband at The Hague.
He was very brave.
Check it out. Right there.
Bryce, that looks like a freckle.
He also took a shotgun blast for me. Last night.
Well, actually, I was wearing Kevlar.
Kevlar? Real Triple-A's never wear Kevlar.
'Cause, knowing Bryce and his trusty penknife,
he'll have the danger all taken care of before it even gets to that.
You laugh, but countless heads of state have been taken out by the penknife.
No one sees it coming.
Ah, yes.
Elena's gelato.
The best gelato on this side of the Mediterranean.
Bryce?
Excuse me a moment.
Bryce?
What's wrong with him?
It's the gelato.
I forgot.
- It's a trigger. - Why?
All of Bryce's memories are with his mother.
She used to call him her "little bodyguard."
Every Sunday, she would take Bryce to the amusement park.
But it wasn't the rides he was interested in.
It was the gelato.
Then what happened? Did he choose the wrong flavor?
No, my dear.
Fate chose his mother.
To this day, I have no idea why a full-figured, 290-pound Italian man
wanted to ride the Paratrooper.
Truth is, I don't want to know.
Some things are best left unsaid.
And Bryce, well, he chose to blame himself.
That's why he loves seat belts.
Still doesn't explain why he's so annoying.
You're annoying.
Hey. Hi. Hi.
- Are you okay? - I'm fine. I'm fine.
- Do you want me to push you? - No, no, no. Thank you.
I just... I cry sometimes when I'm awake.
So...
Your father told us what happened to your mother.
If I'd just ordered peach gelato a minute sooner, she'd still be alive.
- It's my fault. My bad. I get it. - Oh, no, no, no.
It's not your fault. You cannot blame yourself.
I mean, it's perfectly normal to feel guilty.
I understand you better than you think.
My mother was eaten by a shark.
You know, seeing your mother being devoured by a beast...
It can really traumatize you. More than you can think.
But, my God, has he done a number on you, honey.
I mean, you are fucked up in more ways than I can count.
- Now it all makes sense. - Yeah.
Including your obsession with my boobs.
What? Did you say with your boobs? I've never thought about your boobs.
- Not even once. - Come on.
- You are obsessed with my boobs. - Okay. Jesus Christ.
All right.
When you saved me, you very gently cup your hands
and push me by the boobs to save me from the bullet.
Not a lot of alternative real estate...
And I could hear the little boy inside of you screaming,
"Mommy, please don't die. I need you!"
I don't think that's what I was screaming.
I don't sound like that at all.
- If it makes you feel any better... - It doesn't.
- I cannot eat gelato either. - Right. Doesn't make me feel better.
- I don't care. - I'm lactose intolerant.
I still don't care, so...
I'm gonna head back inside.
I think they're serving, um, self-esteem.
Okay. Hey, this was great. It was really, really great.
To get to the safe house...
Excellent. Excellent. Thank you very much.
So we just go up here and make a right.
Good news.
My contact says everything is all set.
We'll have that Ti-47 off of you in no time.
Meanwhile, I'll sort everything out with Interpol.
- Sonia. - Okay?
Let's let 'em have a moment together.
Bryce...
I'm...
sorry about the gelato.
Hey.
Other guys lose their license and never come back.
Look at you. You're gonna be a hero.
I'll come down to the safe house and see you
after I've got some more information.
I will also have a talk with the review board,
see to it you get a good hearing.
Thank you.
- Thank you, Dad. - No worries.
Oh, Bryce, take the Jag.
The Jag? The one I wasn't even allowed to look at as a kid?
You've earned it.
Damn, I love this motherfucking car.
- Yeah! - But you love me more?
- Oh, baby! - Whoo!
Can we just acknowledge for one second that not only are we safe,
but I think I'm going to get my license back.
All because of my father.
I'm so happy for you, Breece.
Baby...
...there's something I've been meaning to tell you.
Ah...
- What? - You know, I think I'm gonna...
I'm gonna join Dad's agency.
Bryce and Son.
That sounds...
A little cottonmouth.
You guys just can't keep your hands off each...
This feels familiar.
I don't spend that much time with my head in bags.
Do you think maybe once you could spot the ambush?
- No. - Watch my hair, motherfucker.
Oh.
What in the A-double-money-sign is that?
Aristotle Papadopolous.
My darling.
I thought I had lost you forever.
So many sleepless nights.
So long have I wandered in a maze of despair.
Uh, anybody want to tell me what the fuck's going on here?
Monaco.
A girl who had lost her way,
turning tricks with wealthy men at craps tables.
But when she met a mysterious Greek man,
he taught her there was more to life.
A life of art,
literature, dance and passion.
She learned to appreciate the finest things in life.
But when the cheap decking aboard his mega yacht
snapped her beautiful Gucci heel,
fate took another turn.
She was found by fishermen.
She laid in bed for weeks, and when she finally woke,
she had amnesia.
Now, seeing your face,
and listening to your voice so closely to my ear,
it all came rushing back to me.
- You've cured me. - Mmm.
Can you put the hood back on?
You got history with this motherfucker?
And if I'd known earlier it was you who had my case,
I would've ensured you were treated like the Aphrodite you are.
Thank you.
Have these two brought to Lucas and Francesco in my torture chamber.
- It is a fine... - Torture chamber?
- Did he say "cha-cha chamber"? - No, motherfucker, he did not.
Perhaps one day you'll learn
that great men don't need to stoop to vulgarity to express themselves.
I know how to express myself, motherfucker.
- Take them away! - Believe me.
I have not begun to express myself...
Do we have separate torture chambers?
The final piece of my master plan
to win justice for Europe's atrocities.
Take it to the technology center and have my yacht prepared.
Come with me. I have something to show you.
The room we dreamed of building together.
Oh, Aris.
You ever think that maybe she's conning you?
What?
I'm just saying, she's a con woman. That's what con women do.
Con person? Person? I don't know how you say that.
Can you guys come back later? We're in the middle of a...
You're gonna tell us everything you know.
Oh, my God.
I'm not telling you a motherf...
So you never had a family?
You were my only true love.
You have suffered so much.
You can go all day with that.
You can electrocute him all day. It'll only make him angrier.
Mm-hmm. Yeah, you wait.
I, on the other hand, will tell you everything.
- I'll tell you everything, if you just... - What? Really?
Just keep that away... Yes. Sonia showed up. I was on vacation.
- She said that Kincaid was in trouble. - Oh, motherfucker!
And then Interpol came. I don't know where those guys came from.
The guy's name was Bobby O'Neill.
Probably Robert O'Neill. That guy was mean.
He wanted us to make a buy.
I don't even know what a buy is.
That's like a drug thing or something?
We got away. We were like, "That could be anything."
Is that Francesco or are you...
Put me down! Let me down!
It is insensitive of me to show you this, considering your condition.
My what?
Carlo was an associate of mine.
When he found your husband, he was at a fertility clinic.
A fertility clinic?
Buying fresh eggs. I assumed you were barren.
Sir, we have a situation.
- Remind me never to tell you shit. - But we're free, aren't we?
Yeah. Fuck it. Let's go save my girl.
I don't know if I buy this whole "amnesia" thing.
You're all of a sudden hating on Sonia.
- She fucking loves you. - I'm not hating on Sonia.
I'm just saying it just reminds me of something, you know?
It's like a book or a movie or something.
Please don't fire a gun in a cave!
Motherfucker, you didn't get tased. Shut up!
I guess we'll find out what a mace will do.
Uh, that's decorative, I think.
What is it? It's gonna drive me crazy.
Overboard.
Kurt Russell, Goldie Hawn. She gets amnesia. Oh, I feel so much better!
Oh, bullshit.
- Oh, shit! - Scatter.
I wanted to keep that fucking mace.
- Sonia! Sonia? Sonia! - Hey, stop yelling!
Hey, you're gonna get us fucking killed.
- There she is! Sonia! - No, no, no. Hey, hey hey!
- I'm coming to get you! - You lied to me.
- What? - The night of our honeymoon.
You didn't take a job.
We're really doing this now?
You went to a fertility clinic to buy fresh eggs
because you think mine are rotten.
Baby, you can't buy eggs at a fertility clinic like a grocery store.
That motherfucker is lying to you!
Do you want a life on the run, or do you want the stability of a family?
Goodbye, Darius. It's over.
- We gotta go. No, we gotta go, Darius. - Baby, no. No, Sonia!
- Please! - Let's go!
Maybe she's playing him to play you, like a triple cross.
There's no triple cross.
If that's the lifestyle she wants, and he can give it to her,
more power to him.
I got no money in the bank. Interpol's always in my ass.
I'm a hitman shooting blanks.
Wait. Hold on. Wait. What?
I got shot in the nuts on a job, and I never told Sonia about it.
You don't have testicles?
No... I mean, yes, yes, I have testicles.
The right one, Kool & the Gang. The left one, fugazi.
So, my swimmers aren't strong enough to get across the finish line,
so I can give Sonia what she wants most in the world.
I told you, just be honest with her. None of this would've happened
if you were just honest.
That shit always leads to an ass-whupping or a jail sentence.
I'll see you when I see you.
Where are you going?
Hey, Darius!
Darius!
Dad, there was an ambush, and...
What's the Jag doing here?
You are the dumbest motherfucker I have ever met.
Wow, that, uh...
I handle Aristotle's security detail while he's in Italy, you moron.
You... You work for the bad guys?
A Triple-A puts his clients ahead of God, family,
and certainly a pantywaist, such as yourself.
You are a cruel son of a...
- God... - I would turn you in,
but that would be an admission that I think you're a threat.
Oh, and, Bryce, I spoke to the review board.
They agree with me. You're barred for life.
Wow.
Now get off my trash. You're a stain on my legacy.
Out of all the gin joints in all the world, you walk into mine.
My dad screwed us. He's Aristotle's head of security.
Also, he really hates me.
I owe you an apology, Kincaid.
You know, your thing really is better than my thing.
No more Mr. Nice Bryce.
All right? I wanna be a badass, you know? I wanna be loose!
Hey, we should do some coke!
Motherfucker, you would OD on a baby aspirin and a diet soda.
I want to speak to Darius Kincaid, please.
- Is there a Mr. Kincaid here? - Who's asking?
- His fucking wife, motherfucker. - Your wife.
What the fuck do you want, and how the fuck did you find me?
I found you 'cause they found you, motherfucker.
There's a kill team coming your way, so you better get the fuck out of there.
And how dare you give me attitude when I am risking my hot ass over here
so that we can have our fucking honeymoon.
And what about all that shit in Monaco?
Oh, come on, Darius.
Do you know how many men I conned before you came along?
I never had amnesia.
For real?
How could you think for a second that I would leave you?
I can't imagine my life without you!
Baby, look.
I didn't go to a fertility clinic because of you.
I think you can't get pregnant because of me.
Baby, would've been nice to have a family.
We can adopt.
Oh, yes, baby.
You will be the best father, baby.
I mean, look how good you've been for Breece,
this dysfunctional, abandoned, poor child.
His father obviously hates him. I mean, he doesn't have any friends.
And you, you've been nothing but a ray of sunlight.
I love you so much, Sonia Kincaid.
And I'm coming to rescue your ass.
I love you more than ever, mi cucaracha.
But you better hurry the fuck up.
He's going to destroy Europe to save Greece.
He's drilling into Viareggio's data grid tomorrow while he escapes on his yacht.
You have to stop him.
Get the fuck down!
Darius? Darius?
So, how does it feel to lose the one you love?
I, for one, did not sleep.
Amnesia?
Really?
Do you think I haven't seen the film Overboard?
Kurt Russell, Goldie Hawn.
A minor classic.
Well, my security has already exterminated your cucaracha.
And you will die alone and without a family.
No one in this world can kill Darius Kincaid.
That motherfucker is unkillable.
Whoo!
- Oh! Car chase. - Oh, shit.
You've reached Michael Bryce. Please leave a message and have a Triple-A day.
- Hey, future Mike. It's me. - Fuck!
Are you seriously making a phone call right now?
Oh, shit!
I feel like my spiritual journey is almost complete.
But now I realize...
safety's for losers!
Whoo!
The old Bryce, he is long gone.
And I'm driving without a seat belt now.
It's a crazy thing that happens when you lose everything.
Oh, shit!
You got nothing left to lose.
You know, it's like Tim McGraw always says...
Tim Mc-fucking-who?
You gotta live like you were dying.
That is the lamest shit I have ever heard in my life.
Ooh, I'm at the event horizon, baby.
- I mean, I feel truly... - Nobody's after us. Slow down!
- ...and completely free. - Bryce.
It's okay. My knees, head and skin broke the fall!
So I'm gonna see my dad,
and I'm really nervous
'cause all I want in the world is for him to be proud of me.
And I think you, future Michael, will be proud of me for dealing with this.
I know I've said a lot of things and...
Whatever the fuck this "future Michael" shit is,
it's got to go.
You are the "future Michael," motherfucker.
My dad called me a stain on his legacy.
Oh, Jesus Christ. Look, I get it.
You are a fuck-up, okay? You got some fucking issues.
But you can't allow a motherfucker
you share not one drop of DNA with to define you.
Something I've been meaning to tell you. When I got clipped in the nuts...
it happened in Brussels.
Brussels?
I'm Michael Bryce, your executive protection agent.
- Get down! Shots fired! Shots fired! - Contact! Contact!
Mother...
I'm the one who shot you in the nuts, and you never thought to tell me that?
That's a W for me. That's a big I for you.
It was a ricochet.
- Ricochet, my ass, motherfucker. - Ricochets don't count
- unless you call them, motherfucker. - Take the L. Take the I!
Despite the fact you get on my last nerve,
you're a pretty good fucking bodyguard.
I'm never getting my license back. That's over.
You don't need a license.
What do bodyguards do?
They protect people?
And the whole of Europe needs your protection right now.
Now repeat after me.
"I'm unlicensed and I don't give a fuck."
I'm unlicensed and that's terrible. That's...
Again?
I'm unlicensed and I don't give a fuck.
Louder.
I'm unlicensed and I don't give a fuck.
Robust!
I'm unlicensed and I don't give a fuck!
Now let's go do what we do and fuck some shit up.
Let's go fuck some shit up!
- Don't move! Put your hands on your head! - Nope! Wasn't touching it.
We're telling you the truth.
Sonia told Kincaid Aristotle is drilling into the data junction at Viareggio.
He's gonna upload the virus in an hour.
Aristotle's too influential. We'll never get a warrant in time.
- Let us take him down. - Come on!
We just got reports of drilling at a location in the center of Viareggio.
What assets do we have on the ground in that region?
The closest agent is Bobby O'Neill.
Perhaps this time, we do things the Boston way.
Fine. Alert all local forces and send them to that drill.
We've also located his mega yacht fleeing for international waters.
Christ's sakes.
Don't be the government agent in the documentary
who has all the info on the bad guy, then lets him go anyway.
Don't be that guy.
- Woman. - I think that's implied.
What do you need to stop Aristotle?
We need boats.
And we need guns.
That's my motherfucking bodyguard.
- And we need them. - What?
What are your names?
- Gary. - Johan.
Gary, Johan, are you ready to get your fuck on?
- What? - That came out wrong.
Not together. With us. That also came out wrong.
You're gonna get your fuck on in an action context.
We have visual of the hitman and the bodyguard leaving port in a speedboat.
Deploy level 1 security.
Go, go, go!
Hey, Gary, I think we're outnumbered!
No fucking shit, Johan!
God, I hope Gary and Johan are okay.
How the fuck can they even think that's us?
Those motherfuckers didn't hit nobody!
Well, it's called a decoy, Darius. Bodyguarding 101.
My dad's gonna have three levels of security. That was the first.
- Boring! - Well, boring is always best.
- Get the fuck outta here. - I will turn this boat around!
We're 30 seconds out from Viareggio.
- Copy that. - If we don't stop the drill,
they'll upload the virus and wipe out Europe.
Get down, get down! On the ground!
Get down, get down! Everybody down! Everybody down!
Shut up! Shut up!
Stop! Stop! Stop! He says they're building pipes.
Pipes? What kind of pipes? What kind of pipes?
- Wait, this isn't a data junction. - What?
This is a high-pressure sewage line.
Are you telling me that we've sent all our resources to the wrong location?
The site manager here is telling me the type of drill
that was stolen from the dock is a deep-sea drill.
They're not drilling on land. They're drilling in the ocean.
It ain't Viareggio, the town. It's Viareggio, the ocean trench.
And guess what's down there... Europe's central data junction.
What? What does that mean?
It means the fate of Europe is in the hands of a hitman and a bodyguard.
Deploying the drill now, sir.
Drill head descending.
One hundred meters.
First, you are going to watch Europe burn,
and then I am going to dump you at sea.
But this time without the necklace.
There's no one here. The boat is empty.
Buongiorno, motherfucker.
Decoys. Works every time.
Didn't you say there were several layers of security?
Level 2 is going to be much more...
Attention! We have you completely surrounded.
There is absolutely no chance of...
Not very practical.
Well, can't we skip a couple of levels, get to the hard shit?
Sure.
Sir, we have visual of the data junction.
You take the upper. I'll take the lower.
That's funny. Your father told me you weren't using guns.
Sabbatical's over.
Now give me back my gun.
What sort of witchcraft is that?
Fuck!
All right, you ready for the show, huh? Huh?
Fuck!
That's okay. They can be terribly slippery.
Sir, we've made contact with the data junction.
Initiating drill sequence.
Slight scratch.
Slight splash!
Oh, shit!
Magnum .44 has six rounds.
- You have only one left, cock fossil! - Fuck!
I can see around corners!
Through walls and sofas.
Even your heat signature looks old.
Kiss my...
Nope.
Nope!
You're lucky. You're lucky I love this song.
Data junction compromised. Commence upload of virus.
Virus upload initiated.
Estimated time: Six minutes.
Sir, it appears that Level 1 were chasing a decoy.
Magnusson and Zento will take care of it.
Kill her.
Come out, hitman!
Oh!
Virus-upload time remaining: Five minutes.
Say hello to my little filos.
As his bodyguard, I strongly advise you put the gun down.
As his bodyguard, I strongly advise you to put the gun down.
I can't do that.
One phone call, and the review board renews your license.
It's what you've always wanted, son.
He's my friend.
He's my best friend. My BFF.
That's "Best Friends Forever."
- Virus-upload time remaining: 4 minutes. - Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!
Are you wearing Kevlar?
Of course I'm wearing Kevlar. I'm a 90-year-old man, Bryce.
What were all those stories about then? Jesus...
That was just to boost book sales.
Time to die, you old cow.
Your father's got you right where he wants you now, kid.
You're so spry.
Virus-upload time remaining: Three minutes.
Forget your training, Junior?
You forget who trained me.
Motherfucker!
Guess we're at a stalemate.
I guess not.
Hello, darling. Did you finish the con woman?
Her last words were that she had something in common with her husband.
We're both fucking unkillable.
Virus upload. Two minutes.
Triple-A always has three. Any last words?
Penknife's a very versatile tool.
No one sees it coming.
You motherfuckers!
That's right, Papa Dickless.
You gotta earn the right to call us "motherfuckers."
- Motherfucker! - Motherfucker!
Virus-upload time remaining: 50 seconds.
Not bad.
But you failed.
Virus-upload time remaining: 40 seconds.
There's gotta be a way to shut this down.
His ship is rigged to explode if you stop the virus.
Save yourself or save Europe. Which is it gonna be, Bryce?
- Peach gelato or lavender fig? - Thirty seconds.
I love you.
Run!
The hitman, the bodyguard and the con woman.
You assholes look like shit.
Don't talk to us like that, you cheesy fuck.
- We're not your bitches anymore. - Relax.
- I got you your little yacht for your honeymoon. - All right.
But you're still wanted, so until Interpol clears up the legals,
I need all three of you on that yacht for the next 48 hours.
Are we clear?
No. Uh, Bob, quick sidebar.
- No fucking sidebar or I'll punch you in your face. - Okay.
Fuck it.
- And? - Are you serious about that?
Deadly.
You are sicker fucks than I thought.
Here, you. Sign there.
Wait, what is this? This is...
Hold on a second. You...
You guys got my license back?
- Come on! - I'll let her explain.
Enjoy your honeymoon, shitheads.
Oh, Breece.
Thank you.
What's she doing?
My baby cucaracha,
you just signed the adoption papers.
- The what? - The adoption papers.
You are now our son!
- Wait, what the fuck? - What the fuck?
Hello, you've reached Michael Bryce.
Please leave a message and have a Triple-A day.
Really? That's your voice mail?
Listen, it turns out it's gonna take more time to get your asses un-Red-Noticed,
so I need you on that yacht for at least another month.
You know what? Maybe two.
Anyway, enjoy your sabbatical. And say hi to your mom and dad.
But don't call me. Ever! Like, never ever!
Oh, Darius!
- Oh, baby. - Darius, we finally get to make love...
- Oh, shit! - ...just for the sake of fucking.
We don't have to worry about having a baby.
- We have our little Breece. - Oh, baby, that's it!
What are you doing? Oh, my God!
Sonia, what are you doing? What's that...
Oh, baby, that hip moving. Oh, that's new pussy!
- New pussy! - Oh, mi cucaracha!
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