[music]
DAVEBOY: He's a canny man that Troy
They make good money, Robbers.
He likes the edge of it too much for my taste.
TROY: We've got two big jobs coming up
Why don't you come and join us.
What about me?
What about you?
Do I look like you expected?
Well, no offence, Mrs. Troy.
I didn't know you existed.
[stool clatters]
[noose getting tighter]
RIPPER: Potter was simply a hastily elected Prime Minister.
He was well liked, sure.
But weak.
Nobody wanted him dead.
You son of a bitch!
I got into an argy bargy with a bloke from work
Long story short.
I killed him.
Go to this address with your best men
pick her up and bring her here.
[Gunfire]
GAUNT: Well, colonel Salt.
Tell me about these
speculative gasses of yours.
[man screaming in agony]
SALT: If the Stormcld project
is put into action
it must seem efficient and humane
Who took our money?
I don't know. I swear, I don't know.
He's got our money,
Let's go get it back.
BAZZA: You should do me one favour.
Don't give up.
You'll get to America in the end.
[music swells]
ALFIE: Should have been me.
DAVEBOY: You are bloody right it should have been you.
DAVEBOY: This is all your fucking fault.
No it's not.
Course it is.
Money money money money,
that's all you care about.
DAVEBOY: And that's what's got him killed.
It was an accident.
There's no such thing as accidents.
You are not being fair.
You big fucking baby.
Fair?
You've killed the poor man and now you're whinging about fair?
You should be fucking ashamed of yourself.
ALFIE: It wasn't my fault.
If Bazza was here he'd tell you the same thing.
BAZZA: Like hell I would.
I told you you should watch a while,
get the lay of the land.
But would you listen?
BAZZA: No.
BAZZA: Daveboy's right.
BAZZA: Money,
money, money.
That's all you care about.
Get to America...
...whatever it costs.
Well this is the cost my friend.
BAZZA: This is the cost.
But...
but you said we had to go.
You made us promise we'll get to America.
BAZZA: I was just trying to make you feel better.
BAZZA: You think I give a damn if you get to America?
BAZZA: I'm dead.
I'm dead Alfie.
Yeah, well, I am not.
I'm alive.
And I'm going to America,
so you can fuck off!
[People chatting and screaming in the street]
[Music]
DAVEBOY: Get to fuck.
I'm so sorry, Alfie.
Daveboy.
MRS. PENNYWORTH: He'd look you in the eye, that one.
And listen.
Wise beyond his years.
A real gentleman.
[crows cawing]
Highland Single Malt.
Smooth...
...just like you, you bastard.
SlÃ inte Mhath.
DAVEBOY [whistling a song]
ALFIE: Leave it out.
Bazza always hated your shit whistling.
He's not complaining.
Sandra, give us some Lili Marlene would you?
* SANDRA: Underneath the lantern *
* by the barrack gate...
* Darling, I remember, the way you used to wait. *
* It was there that you whispered *
* Tenderly,
* that you loved me *
* you'd always be
* my lilly of the lamp light.
SANDRA: [sings softly]
[crows cawing]
* SANDRA:...Time will come for roll-call... *
TROY: Lost comrades.
Thanks for coming
I'm sorry, Mister Pennyworth.
Shall we?
TROY: Christ I hate funerals.
ALFIE: Yeah.
ALFIE: When I go they can toss me in a ditch.
I expect they shall, villainous character like you.
What happened?
Ten years of jungle combat
and Bazza gets done in by a greedy cocktail waitress.
It was my fault,
I cocked it up.
Didn't look at all the angles.
Went in too quick.
Bazza said so himself, but I didn't listen.
No.
I've led God knows how many lads into places like this.
You can't let it bother you, old chap.
It doesn't bother me.
I'm just facing facts.
Let's get down to business, shall we?
How's that?
You hate funerals.
You never could take no for an answer.
And you know we lost that cash.
You've come here to recruit me.
Hum.
Astute as ever.
If you weren't such a low ruffian,
you'd have made a splendid officer.
I'm getting to America.
One way or another.
If you've got something that can make that happen,
I'm in.
I might just have something
You might want to think about leaving your scruples
with the hatchet girl.
Fuck scruples.
But just so we're clear,
As soon as I've made enough money to get out of here,
I'm done.
[opening credits music]
HARWOOD: This very minute,
I should be parading down the sreets of Manchester!
And what am I doing?
Reading progress reports!
Well progress my arse!
Since Norwich we've made no fucking progress at all!
We've been wasting our resources on Manchester and the North.
If London falls, the Northern cities will surrender.
Agreed.
So how can we make London fall?
A full scale artillery bombardment,
air strikes,
followed by tanks and storm troopers would do the trick.
We've been over this before, General.
What is the point of taking London
if we must first destroy it?
It is the capital,
GAUNT: Not some Northern industrial slum
HARWOOD: She's right.
History would judge us very harshly.
I hesitate to raise this option sir...
Yes, then don't raise it Salt.
As you say madame.
Forgive my forwardness.
Frances, Salt is a very clever chap.
Let him speak.
He's going to raise that filthy Stormcloud business.
GAUNT: I won't have it.
Oh you won't have it?
HARWOOD: I think I'll be the judge of what you have and
what you do not have.
I'm in charge am I not?
Yes, of course Jimmy.
Salt...
Speak.
SALT: Thank you sir.
SALT: I was going to say, given the situation,
if our prime objective is winning this war,
Stormcloud may be our only viable option.
Dammit Jimmy, told you--
--You told me?
You told me?
HARWOOD: I'm the High Chancellor of England!
You do not tell me anything!
Nobody tells me
HARWOOD: What to do!
HARWOOD: [coughing]
GAUNT: Jimmy are you alright?
GAUNT: Jimmy.
HARWOOD: [coughing]
GAUNT: Oh Jimmy are you alright-
HARWOOD: --I'm perfectly fine.
I'm so sorry, if I've upset you.
Leave me alone!
Get out!
HARWOOD: All of you!
HARWOOD: [coughing]
HARWOOD: [heavy breathing]
HARWOOD: Thank you Salt.
HARWOOD: She's a good woman,
HARWOOD: just... bloodyminded
HARWOOD: and stubborn.
As you say sir.
You sound dubious.
SALT: Not at all.
Mrs Gaunt's principles are impeccable.
She'll stand by them whatever the cost to herself,
or those around her.
Talking of stubborn women...
Where's Bet Sykes?
Our men went to meet her,
but she'd disappeared.
We're making enquiries now.
Typical.
She's flighty, that one.
Keep me informed.
Mm.
Wakey wakey.
Much appreciated pet.
You're a diamond.
Will I see you again?
Doubt it. But you never know.
BET: Don't look so glum,
BET: we're here now.
There'll be tea and crumpets with my sister from now on.
Besides,
we're with your lot now.
League territory.
Mind you don't tell who I am though, eh?
[bells ringing]
[baby crying]
Fuck!
This is Peg's house.
What now?
You're doing my fucking head in.
Sorry.
I'm sorry.
No call to shout at you.
I'm just flummoxed.
Come here.
BET: Do you trust me?
KATIE: Sort of.
[knocking on the door]
[suspenseful music]
May I come in?
--I'm on my way out.
I won't be long.
MARTHA: Make it quick.
The League council are electing a new Prime Minister.
So, you may have heard,
the last one killed himself.
Again, I apologise.
Look.
I wouldn't have come.
I know I'm not your favourite person,
but I need your help.
No.
It's not a business matter,
it's personal.
I need you to come to a party.
A date?
Are you out of your crypto fascist mind?
THOMAS: It's Patricia's birthday.
THOMAS: She's in London. And in trouble.
What's happened? Is she ok?
She's gotten herself involved with a new man.
THOMAS: Jacques Duval he calls himself.
THOMAS: A copper bottomed shit.
MARTHA: Well, it takes one to know one.
He is a fashion designer.
Hair down to his shoulders, pointy shoes,
slept with half the women in London.
So he likes sex. Not like he's a devil worshipper.
I thought you'd be more sympathetic.
There's a war on..
We could all be dead tomorrow.
If she's getting laid...
...good for her.
This is my sister
you're talking about.
MARTHA: Yes.
MARTHA: The least tiresome of the Waynes.
Try to relax.
Reputations get exaggerated.
Oh not this one
This Duval character got chased out of Gotham
for bedding one of the Elliot heiresses.
She was thirteen.
Jesus.
Really?
How do you know that?
My sources.
Sources?
You got the CIA involved?
Don't be ridiculous.
The Wayne lawyers.
So, will you help me or not?
MARTHA: My comrades will be picking me up any minute.
Look, Martha.
I am truly sorry about what happened to Archbishop Potter,
I am.
But I don't know
how many more dippointments
Patricia has left in her.
Maybe you think I'm petty.
But undermining democracy and all that?
MARTHA: It is kind of hard to get over.
And anyway, if Patricia needs my help
she can ask me herself.
I'm going to the party.
MARTHA: She invited me.
Why didn't you say that in the first place?
And from this point on,
she's the only Wayne I'll be talking to.
...In conclusion, as we say West of the Tamar...
"Leun a sylli yw ow skath bargesi."
CARMICHAEL: Thank you Mister Penhaligon.
Our next candidate for Prime Minister
is Mister John Ripper.
Good afternoon, your majesty,
ladies,
and gentlemen.
I've got no fancy speeches to make.
The time's past for fine words.
All of us here are only alive today
because Harwood doesn't want to destroy his future home.
I'm a practical man
and what I have to offer here today
are practical solutions
to our problems.
[door opening]
[steps]
Who the devil are they?
Carry on lads.
[punches]
[men fighting]
[neck snaps]
[crowd gasps]
Well done, Charlie.
Explain yourself Mister Ripper.
Charlie and Mike were cellmates in Pentonville prison.
I offered them a royal pardon to the last man standing
THE QUEEN: You don't have that authority.
No.
But you do.
And we've got thousands of talented,
enthusiastic killers clogging up our prisons.
Put them on buses.
Send them to Union strongholds, in
Preston, Birmingham, Norfolk.
Give them weapons and set them free.
And they'll do in a few days
what it would take an entire army years to do.
Unleashing hordes of criminal psychopaths on England.
Not cricket really. Is it?
RIPPER: No, your majesty.
It is not cricket.
But we're not here
to play cricket.
It's time
to put the boot in.
as we say.
Spill
some claret.
If you elect me leader of the League,
I promise you, that's what we'll do.
We'll put the boot in, hard and heavy
That's my manifesto.
[applause]
[applause continuing]
Mister Aziz.
CARMICHAEL: Your turn to speak.
Mr Ripper is right, Your Majesty.
War...
is not cricket.
I would like to dismiss Mister Ripper's plan on moral grounds.
But I can't.
They say rightly, that there are no atheists in foxholes.
But there are no saints either.
We use bullets and bombs,
why not use this villain and his friends here? Hmm?
AZIZ: Mr. Ripper's villains
would win us many battles.
But they would not win the war.
If vile atrocities and brutish sadism won wars
we'd all be speaking German.
Must we defeat monsters by becoming monsters ourselves?
No.
Love, compassion,
the liberal virtues are our greate weapons.
Not because they're virtues,
but because they will win out in the end.
If we were all to die tomorrow,
what I say would still hold true.
In the fullness of time
other good people
will rise to take up our banners and fight on.
And we shall win out in the end.
Because humanity is with us.
[applause]
Very moving Mr. Aziz.
But what do we actually do?
We fight.
All of us here,
we fight.
And we hold London at all costs.
While we do,
this good woman
is the rightful Queen of England
and we...
are the rightful government of England.
[jazz band playing at the party]
[People chatting]
THOMAS: Patricia!
Happy birthday.
PATRICIA: Thank you.
- It's a hat. - Oh.
Thank you.
I cannot wait for you to meet him
THOMAS: Likewise, yes.
[loud jazz music playing]
PATRICIA: Jaques!
Darling,
PATRICIA: This is--
Olive. Less vermouth this time.
No, Jacques.
This is my brother.
JAQUES: Oh sorry.
I just assumed,
the penguin suit.
Martha.
THOMAS: How are you?
Ok.
Thomas Wayne.
Doll. Agree with me.
I was just telling Martha
she's got real potential.
I'm gonna dress her.
Thanks, but no.
I'm okay with how I am.
But look what I did with Patty.
It's a masterpiece, no?
You're right. No.
Ooh, I like him, Patty.
Uptight but witty.
Very rare combination.
So are...
are the two of you you two back together?
We never were together
PATRICIA: Oh please, you're dying to fuck each other--
PATRICIA: Anyone can tell.
MARTHA: No, no
MARTHA:You're way off base.
Trust me.
Oh poo.
Now that Tommy's dumped
that absurd Betsy person,
PATRICIA: You can get together.
PATRICIA: Go for it children.
It is not going to happen.
Ooh so fierce.
But mon dieu,
what's with the dreary clothes?
Shorter,
tighter,
more colour,
It's got to happen Marsha.
Martha.
It's not going to happen.
He doesn't take no for an answer.
No, I do not.
I'm very forceful
when I need to be.
I'll come to your apartment.
Bring a selection.
Thanks but no.
Oh shoosh,
my little wallflower.
I'll bring the chic, you bring
that fabulously lithe body of yours.
Boom!
We'll create some magic!
JAQUES: Ciao!
Okay. He's heinous.
Thank you.
I know how hard it is for you to agree with me.
[guests screaming excitingly]
So...
So things didn't work out with Betsy?
No.
They didn't.
Sorry to hear that.
Eh.
I wouldn't worry about Patricia.
She'll see through him in a couple weeks.
Even she can see he is a complete and utter--
PATRICIA: [screaming]
PATRICIA: Yes.
PATRICIA: I will.
[applause]
PATRICIA: Asshole! I love you!
[dog barking]
[people screaming indistinctly in the street]
[people talking indistinctly in the street]
[dog barking]
Somewhere to be?
Yeah, job on, as it happens.
It's the middle of the night.
Chadley'll put you in a cab.
Barely see you these days.
You're always rehearsing, aren't you.
Job.
Is it with that bloke from the funeral?
Never ask me about jobs.
I don't trust him, Alfie.
I do.
Leave it alone.
I know you are sad,
about Bazza.
But you don't have to be so cold.
Yeah.
I am sad about Bazza.
And cold.
I'm sorry.
I've told you before.
You should leave me.
Don't be silly.
What would you do without me?
Serious.
I'm no good for you.
You just need time.
You'll be alright.
[door slams]
[dramatic music]
[vehicle braking]
[woman screaming]
DRIVER: Make way for the Lord Mayor!
Clear the road.
[woman screaming]
Have a heart mate.
She's lost her husband!
[woman continues screaming]
I said.
Clear the fucking road.
Now!
Keep your hair on.
Get down
Fire in the hole!
[Alfie's ears ringing]
Fucking Mayor!
MAYOR: Ehhhh.
MAYOR: You'll go to the Tower.
MAYOR: Every one of you!
It's empty.
Up!
MAYOR: Ah!
Up!
MAYOR: [grunting]
Good evening, Mr. Mayor.
Where is it?
Where is what?
The money.
There is no money.
I do hope for your sake
that that's a lie.
Take your hands off me!
Where is it?
I'll have your innards on a brazier,
and I'll have your heads on spikes.
Where is it?
Easy Alfie.
Where is it?
Stand down, son.
He can't answer if he is dead
TROY: Now, can he?
ALFIE: You got till three.
One,
MAYOR: [choking]
two,
three.
There.
MAYOR: Step!
MAYOR: It's in the step.
MAYOR: [sobbing]
BET: Shit!
BET: I look like a fucking gutter scumbag.
Disgusting!
BET: Urgh!
I've been thinking.
Oh ah?
What about?
We're not going to find your sister
just wandering around.
Maybe...
Maybe we should split up.
Split up?
How's that help find her?
No, look.
It's really nice of you
to look after me
and I'm truly grateful.
I am.
But,
this is League territory
I'm safe now.
Well good for you.
I'm not.
I know,
but what use am I to you?
There's such a thing as moral support you know.
I thought we were friends.
We are...
We are, I mean
kind of.
kind of?
Why won't you tell me anything about your past?
I said.
It's boring.
Did something bad happen when you were little?
KATIE: Something that damaged you?
KATIE: Because
KATIE: sometimes you're nice.
Sometimes you're just...
...mad.
Mad!
BET: Me?
I thought we were friends.
Any road,
you're safe now.
Be good.
[melancholy music]
MAYOR: [grunting]
Bloody hell.
Don't see that everyday.
Poor love. Right state, eh?
Help us.
Madame,
Call the Police.
Don't fret.
Help is on the way.
KATIE: What are you doing?
Hello, is you, is it?
What are you doing?
I'm mad, me.
I thought,
I know,
I'll give the Lord Mayor
BET: a scragging.
MAYOR: Help us.
Result.
Things are looking up eh?
We'll have a nice breakfast.
KATIE: Shouldn't we call the Police?
BET: Why?
KATIE: They need help.
BET: Soft as a bun, you.
[phone dialing]
[phone line dialing]
POLICEMAN: Hello, Police.
POLICEMAN: how can I be of assistance?
POLICEMAN: Hello...
* I said yeah (I said yeah) *
* Listen what they say (listen what they say) *
* Can you hear me say, yeah? (yeah yeah) *
* Listen what they say (listen what they say) *
* Do you believe I would take such a thing with me *
* And give it to a policeman?
* I wouldn't do that, oh no (ooh, ooh) *
BET: That's her.
* And if I do that, I would say "Sir "*
* "Come on and put the charge on me" *
Bet?
Peggy.
Where the hell have you been?
I were worried sick.
Round and about, you know.
I called your work,
PEGGY: They said you were on the run for murder.
It's not murder
if I'm in the right is it?
Who's this then?
This is my friend Katie.
She's an artist.
Is she.
Hello.
Nice to meet you.
She's alright.
Maybe she is, maybe she isn't.
She's an odd duck
PEGGY: If she's with you.
PEGGY: You know this one's mad as hatter.
I know
But she's been very good to me.
Has she?
Dear oh dear.
Give us a minute.
I've told her nowt about my past before we met,
and you'll do likewise eh?
You never learn do you?
I don't need none of your sauce.
We've other avenues to explore if we want.
Like hell you do.
Nice to meet you, Katie.
You'd best come in before your girlfriend
here murders someone else.
PEGGY: Come on, in you go.
PEGGY: Straight through.
GAUNT: Jimmy
Oh...
Frances.
You gave me a fright.
[door slamming]
I bring news from London.
The League have elected a new Prime Minister.
A policeman of all things.
Victor Aziz.
Aziz.
Dear God.
That's the blighter who had me arrested.
and thrown into the Tower.
I suppose
they wish to punish me by appointing him,
of all people.
I shouldn't think it was intentional
I was tied to a chair in my fucking underpants
while that bastard
HARWOOD: strutted around
pretending to be a gentleman
Well, at any rate, perhaps,
he'll prove more tractable than poor old Potter
Now, let me see.
Oh, it's no mistake.
I shall take great pleasure in hanging--
--Shhh.
Febrile and spotty.
Say ah.
Aaah.
Say aaah.
Aaah.
Well if you were a sailor
I'd say you have scurvy.
You must take better care of yourself.
I'm perfectly fine.
Just getting old.
Listen old girl,
that Stormcloud business.
It's a last resort, nothing more.
Well I didn't think it was a passing whim.
But evil is still evil even in the last resort.
They won't give in.
Even though, they're as
good as beaten,
the damn fools won't see sense and surrender.
What are we to do?
As I say,
perhaps this Aziz chap will be someone we can do business with.
Aziz?
Oh yes.
Him.
No.
I don't like policemen in any case,
especially not this one.
Condescending little bugger.
GAUNT: You really must get some sleep.
Police are necessary of course,
but it's a low profession.
Low.
[deep sigh]
I wish Bet and Peggy were here.
They'd always cheer me up.
Jimmy!
Hmm?
Hello old girl.
Sorry.
What were we talking about?
[door shutting]
SALT: Good evening Mrs. Gaunt
GAUNT: Salt.
SALT: If I might have a brief word.
I'm listening.
SALT: I'm concerned about his Lordship.
Are you?
SALT: His ah,
state of mind.
His state of mind is not your concern.
SALT: Of course ma'am.
Perhaps I've said too much.
Perhaps you have.
Forgive me,
you know him so much better than I do.
If you have no concerns, then I'm reassured.
He has been under a lot of stress recently.
He has.
It would be no wonder if he occasionally
fell short of his high standards.
You're edging close to disloyalty, Salt.
I'll say no more.
Not my place.
You, on the other hand, Mrs. Gaunt,
could never be accused of disloyalty.
SALT: If you were to lend a discreet hand...
Perhaps.
But how?
Oh, I have no gift for politics.
but this new chap, Aziz...
What about him?
I don't know,
It's possible, were he approached confidentially,
very discreetly,
by a reliable intermediary,
he might listen to reason.
It had occurred to me.
Perhaps you know someone inside the League who might help?
Perhaps.
I might.
[thunder]
[knocking on the door]
[jazz music plays on the radio]
MARTHA: Hi, come on in.
Yikes,
you're really committed to the military look, huh?
Perhaps you noticed,
there's a war on.
I tend to ignore ugly things.
So tedious.
I'm rather surprised you asked me over.
Happy of course, but surprised.
I reconsidered.
What the heck,
live a little,
That's my girl.
Right.
Let's take those wretched rags off
and let's begin your transformation.
Let's uh...
...have some wine first.
MARTHA: Relax a bit.
Now, you are talking.
MARTHA: [laughs]
THOMAS: So,
My little sister
Getting married.
Amazing.
I know you don't like him.
Well, hey, at least he doesn't worship Satan,
THOMAS: As far as I know.
Next thing you'll be having kids.
See? You're trying to scare me.
Newsflash, Pat, kids are what happen when you have sex.
Well we'll stick to anal, then.
For Chrissakes Patricia.
THOMAS: Hello Alfred.
Mr. Wayne.
THOMAS: Thomas, please.
You remember my sister Patricia.
ALFIE: Of course.
You punched me on the nose.
Did I?
I'm sorry.
I expect you deserved it.
Don't let me interrupt you...
No, it's ok,
we were just talking about anal sex.
Dammit Patricia.
That's enough.
Isn't he such a prude Alfred?
If you say so Miss Wayne.
You're pretty. Come join us.
I have friends waiting.
Good to see you again.
I think we should leave.
You've had more than enough,
and Martha will be expecting us.
Sweetheart,
another glass of your disgusting gin...
WAITER: Certainly.
Ok.
BANJO: We're in the woods
BANJO: 20 men.
BANJO: Two of us.
I whip out me gun
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Boss takes out five, I take out 15.
TROY: 15 was it Banjo?
TROY: I think you're being
TROY: economical with the truth
TROY: aren't we?
BANJO: You know that's not how it was.
TROY: There were three.
[laughs]
Oh, come on!
Quiet!
To Bazza.
The angel on our shoulders.
Rest in peace, brother.
We should be with him.
We will be.
One to us.
The richest cunts in London!
ALFIE: Leave it out Banjo.
Show some discretion.
Or what?
Or everyone will know our business.
Fuck 'em.
Who cares?
I care.
MELANIE: He's ashamed, Banjo.
He doesn't like being a thief.
Pipe down, woman.
ALFIE: I'm not ashamed.
I'm not proud either.
I do what I have to do.
That's my boy.
Is that right, Alfie,
Are you his boy?
I'm nobody's boy.
I think you've insulted him Gully.
Shut up.
He says he's not your boy.
You are drunk.
[music from the nightclub]
THOMAS: Pat.
We need to go.
Martha will be wondering were we are.
Why?
Why do you care?
She despises you.
I wouldn't go that far.
No, you blew it with that one.
THOMAS: So you say.
As if you're an expert on relationships.
Little Tommy's holding a torch huh?
We need to go.
Excuse me,
Would you mind? We're in a bit of a hurry.
WAITER: Right away sir.
Hey, hey.
Relax.
PATRICIA: It's for the best anyhow.
She is like...
...a serious woman.
And you do best
with
silly girls.
I'm not holding a torch.
It's just...
It's rude to be late.
Tommy's in loo-oove...
[jazz music]
Hello?
Jaques?
JAQUES: One minute mon cher.
Where the fuck are they?
JAQUES: Eh voila!
Jesus Christ.
Don't be shy baby.
I know what you want.
You fucking...
bitch!
Ouch.
What's the big fucking rush?
--Shut up!
Why do you have a key?
PATRICIA: Why do you have a key?
BOTH: What the fuck?
MARTHA: Cheating asshole!
Yeah! That's...
That's right motherfucker!
Keep running
I wish I'd seen you in action against Jacques.
Must have been quite a sight.
It was a whole new experience for me.
First time've ever beaten a naked man.
Turns out,
that's kind of fun.
Combat becomes you.
You're positively aglow.
Diana the Huntress, to the life.
Flattery will get you nowhere.
MARTHA: [laughs nervously]
Will it not?
Well, maybe it'll get you somewhere
MARTHA: Depends where you want to go.
[romantic music playing]
You know where I want to go.
Are you trying to seduce me?
I...
I guess I am.
I've never been seduced by a crypto fascist bastard before.
Not knowingly anyhow.
Hmm.
But new experiences are fun, right?
Yeah, they can be.
[background sound from nightclub]
So.
You're ashamed of us are you?
BANJO: Think you're better than us?
No.
DAVEBOY: He knows he's better than you, Sonny Jim.
There's weasel shite
better than you.
BANJO: Say that again.
you shortarse fenian turd.
ALFIE: Steady on, Daveboy.
Come on, let them have a run around, Alfie.
TROY: It might prove interesting.
BANJO: Say it again!
DAVEBOY: I don't repeat myself, Banjo.
DAVEBOY: So I'll elaborate.
Away
and get in line
to fuck
DAVEBOY: your scrawny
hun
mother.
[BANJO and DAVEBOY fighting]
Alright. That's enough fun lads.
TROY: Enough!
TROY: That's enough.
MELANIE: You can say that again.
I'm going home.
Do enjoy yourselves, boys.
No.
You leave when I say you can leave.
Hm.
Fuck you.
MELANIE: [gasps]
Don't do that.
Keep out of my damn business.
This is my place.
You want to beat your wife,
Do it at home.
Thank you Alfie.
Very chivalrous.
Don't you ever
tell me what to do, boy.
I think me and you need a quiet word.
Uh huh.
Wait here.
I don't-
--I said wait here.
[door slams]
Go ahead.
You can speak freely.
I don't need your permission to speak.
We're not in the Service anymore.
You're not a Captain
ALFIE: and I'm not other ranks.
Fuck the Service.
Fuck captains.
Fuck other ranks.
I'm Gully Troy.
And you don't cross me.
I'm Alfred Pennyworth,
and I just did.
Now what?
You got a little over emotional
on the job today.
You weren't the cool headed chap
I knew in the jungle.
We're not in the jungle anymore.
No, that's where you're mistaken.
You still have a problem with authority?
Killing your father
wasn't enough fo you, huh?
Be careful.
TROY: [knife unsheathes]
Or else?
ALFIE: Or else.
TROY: Hum.
Boy.
I'm not your captain anymore.
I'll try and remember that.
I'm just the man making you rich.
TROY: Perhaps you'll try to remember that.
I'm done with robbery.
ALFIE: Don't agree with me.
Fair enough.
Just one more job, eh?
TROY: A big one.
I've got enough money to get to America.
That'll do me.
TROY: I need your skills, Alfie.
I'm done.
That's your lot.
Don't think I'm not grateful.
I'm asking you as a friend.
As a brother.
I'll think about it.
No promises.
That's my boy.
Now,
let's get back in there, before try and kill each other, eh?
You sort it.
I've got to talk to my floor manager.
[door opens]
[door shuts]
Call last orders.
So early?
There's some big tables still--
I said
call last orders!
As you wish guvnor.
[music]
Hey.
Tell Gully I'll wait for him outside.
Will do.
I wasn't being sarcastic by the way.
Thank you
for helping me.
You're a gentleman,
of a kind.
No.
[music]
I'm not sure if you're brave
or stupid.
Both.
MR. CHADLEY: Your coat, Mrs. Troy.
Thank you.
Good night.
[music]
[birds singing]
[music]
[megaphone announcement]
Tech support.
Check the second sheet.
Ancillary technical staff.
Dr. Lucius Fox.
FOX: Thank you.
[quiet chattering]
Ladies and gentlemen.
On behalf of His Grace
SALT: the High Chancellor Lord Harwood,
Welcome.
You are about to see a demonstration of Stormcloud.
We think you'll agree,
this is the future of chemical warfare.
SALT: Currently available chemical weapons
require large quantities of the toxic agent
and crude deployment systems
delivering low accuracy,
SALT: low predictability.
Stormcloud is different.
[suspenseful music]
[machinery activating]
Effective payloads require only miniscule amounts
SALT: of the toxic agent,
SALT: delivering high accuracy
and predictability.
At a very low cost to us in terms of
personnel and resources.
SALT: As you'll see...
[siren going off]
[windows shaking]
Jesus Christ.
GAUNT: [sighs]
[bang on the window]
[dramatic music]
[dead body sliding down window]
[body hitting the floor]
Oh God.
SALT: In five minutes time, the test zone will be
completely safe.
Children could play out there.
That concludes the demonstration.
Thank you Salt.
Good work.
So.
There you are my friends.
The complete destruction of our enemies
HARWOOD: lies in our hands.
This is victory.
Ladies and gentlemen.
[applause]
[credits music]