No, no, you're not wrong.
That really is a maniacal killer clown
trying to smash my head in with a brick on a stick.
So how did I find myself in this situation, you ask?
Well, for that, I'm going to need to take you back.
You ever been on holiday?
And you're just trying to drink in some sunshine, knock back a beer or 12,
only to have your own little slice of Shangri-La
drowned out by a gyrating colony of gurning pillheads.
Well, I have.
I blame those iPod shuffling DJ dickheads like this one here.
Can I have an oi oi?
These pyros are fucking shit. Give me something better.
Don't think that's a good idea, boss.
Too much gas pressure. It could be dangerous...
Do it now. DJ Remy doesn't like to be kept waiting.
Whatever.
- We're good to go. - About fucking time.
Who's ready for some big bangs?
Yeah, we have a lift-off. In Three, two, one...
So when this particular DJ dickhead's promoter
decided to put a bounty on his head because he signed with the competition,
I was more than happy to oblige.
And yeah, it's a dirty job. But in case you've forgotten,
I'm happy to get my hands bleedin' filthy, for the right price.
And if there's one thing I think we can all agree on,
it's that some arseholes really do deserve to die.
I needed to keep my head down after what happened back in London.
I grabbed my fake passport, some dicky credit cards,
rode straight to Heathrow and hopped on the first flight
to anywhere, which turned out to be Malta,
which was great for a bit of the old soul searching.
I gotta confess though, I was a bit pissed off when I found out
that Maltesers weren't even from here and they don't even bleeding sell 'em.
This is Malta!
Which is bullshit.
But that aside, I bloody love this little Mediterranean gem.
The sun always shines, the beer flows freely.
And with the Middle East, Europe and North Africa, just a puddle jump away,
I can bump someone off in Dubai
and be back home before 'Match of the Day' starts.
Okay, I had a feeling it was gonna be tonight.
So let's fucking have it.
Jesus Christ. It's a brand new TV and it's a AK OLED.
Christ. Still got eight episodes of “Bake Off” to watch.
No.
Flamingo! Flamingo!
Jesus Christ, Siu-Ling,
I pay you to smash me up, but not the apartment.
I mean, look at the state of this place. It's a right mess.
You need to say the safe word sooner if you want me to stop.
You think I can read your mind or something?
You stupid!
This is Siu-Ling.
Now, she might look pretty sweet and innocent at first glance,
but as you can see, she's got some serious anger management issues
and a right bloody sting in her tail.
Add to this, she's probably the best martial artist I've ever tangled with.
Hey, get off me.
I first met her when she was a waitress at the local dive bar.
Now, apparently, she grew up on the mean streets of Hong Kong
and is a descendant of the great Wong Fei-hung,
skilled in more martial disciplines than I've had hot dinners.
If she gets out on the wrong side of bed in the morning,
there's no telling what damage she's capable of.
Excuse me. How much are they paying you here?
Want a raise?
I don't speak Cantonese. What are you saying? Say it in English.
Motherfucker.
You need to speak up, Fallon. You know the deal.
Don't say flamingo, I don't stop.
And I thought we agreed, right? No nut shots. Do you remember that?
What did you do? You tried to put them up into orbit.
And what else did you do? Smashed the bleeding vase off my bonce.
Look at the bloody TV. You're out of your mind.
Defense, you idiot. You need to defend yourself at all times.
Don't touch me.
You're gonna have to help me clean this place
because I can't do it on my own.
What? You clean it yourself. I'm not your maid!
I'm not here to clean your dirty sheets. I come here to fight. That's it.
Now, where is my money, Gweilo?
Fine. Good fight.
Probably see you middle of next week then, yeah?
Maybe. Or maybe you'll see me sooner. You never know. Bye-bye.
I've got to be honest.
I lost my fair share of sleep over what I did to my mates back in England.
I sometimes wonder if me taking a weekly kicking from Siu-Ling
isn't just another training session and more like me paying penance
for all that guilt I'm holding on to.
Get the fuck out of my pub.
Well, that was then. This is now. I'm better off alone anyway.
It's me, myself and fucking I from now on.
No mates, no birds, no disgruntled assassin father figure,
and no one to let me down or get in my way.
- Just leave. - Let go of me.
- Get his legs. - Just leave me alone.
Fred?
Fry tonight. Shit.
Looks like you pissed down the wrong alley, Fred.
Mike? What you doing here?
I think you're right. - Come on.
Lucky you turned up when you did. I was just about to do the other two.
Yeah, looked like it.
Why don't you tell me what you're doing in Malta,
setting people on fire?
Oh, did you clock that cheeky little gizmo I came up with?
- It was all right, that. - That meathead got toasted.
Then the other two started kicking the shit out of you.
Very smooth, that was. So what were you doing back there?
Getting handsy with the birds?
No, nothing like that. I was looking for someone.
Looking for someone? Eh, you looking for me?
Did Big Ray send you?
No, I didn't even know you was here. I...
Don't you be lying to me, Fred.
I, I don't speak to Big Ray no more. Nobody does. Ain't you heard?
- Heard what? - Ray lost the Oasis.
No one wanted to hire us after you killed Milton and all the others.
It's funny, but people stop calling when your firm gets a reputation
for lopping off the heads of its clients.
Don't guilt trip me on that one, all right?
Pete and Milton had it coming, and, well,
the rest of them didn't give me much choice?
You could have handled it a little bit better.
Probably right.
- So Big Ray must be fuming then, yeah? - Well, you could say that.
I don't know where your head was at at that time,
but I think I'm beginning to understand it a bit better.
Mike, I have fallen in love.
- You what? - Yes, I'm in love.
I met this girl. She's the most beautiful girl in the world.
She's like an angel. Her name is Leylo.
Oh, pretty. Where did you meet her?
Well, actually, technically, I haven't actually met her yet,
but we've been chatting, online.
Internet, Fred? My God, you have changed.
Yeah, finally plucked up the courage to go online,
and Leylo emailed me back the very next day.
Oh, just out of the blue. Like, that was it?
Well, that's how love works, right?
It's a scam, mate.
That's what Big Ray said. And you're both wrong.
It's a bloody scam. I bet she asked you for money, didn't she?
What makes you say that?
Because it's a bleeding scam, you dope. Tell me you didn't give her any, please.
Oh, you bloody well did, didn't you? You stupid tit.
All right, come on, we've got to get you out of here before the cops turn up.
And downstairs, mate, we've got the games room,
jacuzzi down there, bedrooms over there, foosball, pool, satellite TV.
All you need.
Lovely, Mike. You always did like nice, shiny things.
You know me, mate.
I'll tell you what, you have seen it the other day.
It was right mess...
God, I really need to invest in a sponge coffee table.
Oi, you.
Shit Siu-Ling, this ain't the time.
What the hell? You brought in back-up?
- Stop it. - I will kill you both.
Flamingo. Flamingo.
Flamingo.
Jesus Christ. Hasn't been a week already, has it?
No, but you did so poorly last time, I thought you needed the extra training.
Thankfully, just a coffee table was the only casualty this time.
Oh, and you, I guess. Eh, Fred?
What the bloody hell's going on?
Who is this?
Siu-Ling, this is my old mate, Fred. Fred, meet Siu-Ling.
Oh, sorry. I thought he brought you in to even up the odds. Nice to meet you.
I'm a bit confused here.
Is she your mate or is she trying to kill you?
A little bit of both, actually.
Siu-Ling helps me decompress after a decent shift, know what I mean.
Fallon is a good martial artist. He trains with me, and I make him better.
Look, me and Fred have got a bit of catching up to do so...
Tell you what, call that one a draw,
and I'll see you when it's time for the next ruck, yeah?
Sorry about your face, Fred.
- That's all right. Nice to meet you. - See you.
Listen, you can stay here tonight
the police are scouring the streets looking for a little,
podgy, specky tosser with a pocket flamethrower.
But after that, you're gone.
There's no need to be like that, Mike. I'm looking for Leylo.
I love her and I could really do with your help.
She's a scam, mate. Right?
She's a scam which only lonely bastards like you fall for.
How much did you pay her?
Fifty grand, give or take.
Fifty grand, you stupid twit.
She needed it for the visas and the plane tickets.
She got on a flight from Haiti, and she hasn't been seen since,
until one of my old stool pigeons saw her in a club over here.
Luckily, you were there to help me out.
Lucky, my arse, old mate.
I get the feeling that this is a bad, bleedin' omen.
An omen is somewhere in between opportunity and wisdom, Michael.
I ain't got time for this, all right?
I'm behind on a job, and I need to get my head around it.
Well, let me have a butcher's. A problem shared is a problem halved.
I might be able to help you out.
Meet Mr. Micallef. A self-professed hermit.
Never leaves the house, not day or night.
But he does, however, water his lovely flowers once a day at noon without fail.
Didn't take Fred long to tap into his high-tech security system.
Let's see if this works.
Bleeding hell. That couldn't have gone any better.
Did you see the way his head bounced along like my balls? That was exquisite.
Cheers. It's great to be back in the saddle again.
So anything else in the pipeline that you need me to work with...
Hang on a minute, Fred. I didn't say you could stay.
But we make a good team.
Well, I have been pretty busy lately.
You know what? It turns out there's more people need killing in this corner
of the world than I can keep up.
So I can stay then, Mike?
How could I mind? I mean, look at him.
I wouldn't trust most people as far as I could throw them
but Fred's as honest as the day is long.
Well, as honest as any killer can be.
- All right, you can stay, for a bit. - Yes.
- And don't you be telling Big Ray. - 'Course not.
'Cause you know what's gonna happen if he finds out.
- He wouldn't be happy? - No.
All right, cool.
Looks like you're gonna have to get your test pilot cap on again,
because you're gonna need to sing for your supper.
What about poison nuts?
Here we go then, mate.
Yes.
Flamingo, flamingo!
It's 3:00 in the morning. I need to get some sleep, don't I?
I can't believe I'm gonna say this,
but for the first time in a very long while,
if you saw my face, you might actually think I was happy.
Life was turning out to be pretty sweet. Having Fred around was decent.
We were as thick as thieves again
and taking down marks like they were going out of fashion.
Come on, just think of that lovely happy...
Fuck.
Bleeding hell, Mike, you cut that one a bit fine.
I thought I was going to actually have to chug him.
He was a very good kisser, though.
Nice one.
With business booming and Fred wanting to test
his new game plans somewhere a bit more private,
we found a nice little pad
and decided to drop a few quid on an HQ, well, kind of.
This is The Shambles, as Fred started calling it
after one too many failed test runs, which was apt really
because it's also an English term for a slaughterhouse.
This is our lab...
I think we're rolling.
Where he trials all of his new techniques and where I can have a bash at seeing
if they're actually going to work.
Go on, Fred.
Whoa, yes. Yes.
What a shot. Nice one mate.
- You ready? - I'm ready.
Three, two, one.
Give yourself a bit of a room. Move back.
- Right. Ready, then? - Yeah.
Three, two, one. Go.
Shit.
Blow it out, Fred.
Fred, fire extinguisher back here. Fred. There's a fire extinguisher...
Just get out the way. Move out of the way.
I told you there was a fire extinguisher. You want to set the whole place on fire?
- Her tits are hanging out. - Oh, yeah.
- Yeah, I think that's it. - Yeah?
Filming them, Fred? Yeah? Ready?
This is how you separate the men from the boys.
Three, two, one...
Fucking hell. Why's it not working? The flames on, why's it not working?
Might be all right on Bonfire Night, but how's that an accident?
Oh, shut up, Fred. Flippin' hell, I'm gonna have to find the receipt now.
You could always use it to strip paint.
Fuck off.
One, two, three.
I told you it wasn't gonna work.
No pain, no gain, eh, mate?
I don't understand it. I calibrated that trigger perfectly.
It's slapdash, Fred, right? Like most of the things you come up with.
Some of them are good. Most of them, like this one over here, are shit.
It's like those suits over there.
Be honest with me, Fred. You really think that they're gonna work?
They will work.
I've whittled the detonating cable down
to a fine thread and put it into the seams.
I've put C4 flakes in the lining,
a blasting cap in one of the buttons and a receiver in the other button.
So all you have to do is dial in and boom.
Fred. It's not gonna work, okay? It's not gonna get the yield.
It's gonna singe him a little bit at best. Come on, please.
Wait a minute. I think we've got a job coming in.
Oh, yeah?
Have a butcher's.
- Reject that right now. - Why?
Never bite the hand that feeds you, mate.
- And what hand might that be? - You ever heard of the Zuuzer?
- No. - No?
Well, you bloody well should have done. Mean as fuck, Old Testament Cosa Nostra
headed up by some nut bag witch
with a reputation as severe as her hairline.
Proper wrath of Hades stuff, that mate.
So a mix of Cosa Nostra and ancient Greek? Don't sound ideal to me.
No, it ain't but, pays the bills, doesn't it?
See that lad there? That is Mrs. Zuuzer's reprobate kid.
Talk about making a rod for your own back.
I tell you what, whoever accepts that job
has got brass balls bigger than their brains.
- I'll be surprised if anyone touches that. - So you want me to reject it, then?
Absolutely. Get rid of it.
Flamingo. Flamingo.
- Coffee, Fred? - Oh, yes, please.
Can I have one as well?
Did that sort out your post murder tension?
You know something?
We'd get a lot more jobs done
if you didn't have to have a ruck after every shift.
Can't you just crack one out and be done with it?
Tried that though, Fred. It doesn't work.
I spit in yours.
Thanks.
Pretty girl.
She's the love of my life, Siu-Ling. She's gone missing.
Missing, where?
I wish I knew. Then she wouldn't be missing.
I had a friend like her. She went missing too.
But she eventually turned up working in some dirty sex club against her will.
That would never happen to me.
A friend of mine thought he saw her in a place like that.
I know someone who helps girls like that. I will ask around.
Really, Siu-Ling? That would be brilliant. Her name is Leylo and she is...
The biggest scam is what she is.
Oh, bollocks!
I will help if I can, Fred.
Thanks, Siu-Ling.
- Nice one. - See you later.
You let her beat you up, don't you?
No, no. She's legit, mate. Right, eyes in the back of her head.
And she knows about eight different forms of animal kung fu.
It's like having a scrap in a zoo.
You are allowed to forgive yourself, you know that.
- What? - For what happened in London.
You're carrying all that guilt.
You want to let go of it, otherwise you'll drown in it.
I tell you what, the only thing I'm guilty of is being stupid enough
to get back into business with you if that rubber ducky hit doesn't pay.
It'll work.
Yeah, well, make sure it does, because we're leaving in an hour.
It's all primed and ready to go.
Good.
Miserable bastard.
Hello.
Evening, sir. Sorry to bother you.
I was just wondering if you knew
in which city King Edgar of England was crowned back in 973 AD?
Bath.
What the fuck was that?
What the bloody hell's going on? Where are we? Who are you lot?
So you are the famed Accident Man?
No mate, think you might have me confused with somebody else.
Where were you last Thursday night?
Last Thursday night?
Oh, yeah, that's right.
Watching your mum try not to swallow her tongue, I think.
You fucking mule.
We made you and your Nicky Nacky very wealthy.
Show some respect.
Nicky Nacky?
- Jesus Christ, mate. Is that all you got? - Okay.
This is fun to you, no?
Yeah, it's pretty funny, mate, cause you hit like a bleeding Teletubby.
There you go, mate. That's it. Get stuck in, why don't you? Come on.
Enough with this toxic masculinity.
We know exactly who you are
since one of my loyal soldiers sacrificed himself so that we may draw you out.
Hang on a minute.
You let one of your own team members die just to get a face to face with me?
I'm flattered.
I have to hand it to you both, that bathtub ploy was ingenious.
Oh, you like that, yeah? Fred's idea, that was.
Quite innovative.
Just another day at the office, Missus...
Zuuzer.
Oh, fuck, Mike. The wrath of Hades.
That's right, mate, yeah.
I take it by your friend's palpitations that you are aware of our reputation.
We know who you are.
Good for you. And how about this little gentleman?
Do you know who he is?
Spoilt little runt, by the looks of it.
Unfortunately, you are not far from the truth.
This is my son, Dante.
He was raised well, educated in the finest schools,
tutored in the ways of the world.
But with all that behind him,
he still managed to spiral into this pathetic,
drug addled, delinquent mess you see before you now.
- I love you too, Mamma. - Quiet!
- So you two have never seen him before? - Never.
Dante has decided to rinse his premium breeding
and doors I've opened for him into the gutter.
All in the name of following some quixotic dream of becoming a pop star.
Something he's adamant he can achieve
even though he has the voice of a snared animal.
Mamma! How dare you?
Quiet. Or I'll have you gagged and whipped!
But I paid the money
Every night he defies me, getting paralytic,
snorting cocaine out of whore's backsides and raping everyone's ear drums.
To salt the wounds of all of his filthy dispositions, Dante also smokes.
It was that vulgar addiction which last week proved problematic.
Dante's team escorts him outside the karaoke bar every 12 minutes
so he may poison his lungs along with the rest of his eroding innards.
I told you smoking would be the death of you, didn't I?
Yeah. Well,
before you said it was when I kept kissing the cat on the mouth.
This... was no accident,
although it was played out to look like one.
Something of your speciality.
Our people looked into it.
They tell us the gas pipe was tampered with in that sewer.
- Wasn't me. - That job did come in.
- But... but we rejected it. - Yeah, we did.
Was it last Thursday, you say?
- We got an alibi. - That was your birthday, wasn't it, mate?
- Twenty-one again. - That's right.
I think we were in one of your clubs to be honest.
Your security cameras can probably clear us.
- Coincidence, huh? - What's the name of that club again, Fred?
- The Sparkling Clam. - The Sparkling Clam, that was it, yeah.
It even sounds like a bloody yeast infection.
You know, the one with the big heifer singing on the stage.
Your missus, I'm guessing.
You all right, mate? Hurt yourself, did ya?
Bloody hell, you really are all flash and no bash.
So I guess that puts you in the clear?
- I think so, yeah. - For now.
It would seem that a spineless corporate CEO out of Scandinavia
has put out a contract on my son.
We never thought anyone would be stupid enough to.
And since you are a very capable contractor,
only someone like you
would have the skills to find out who this assassin is.
I need you to hunt down whoever that may be and I want you to kill them.
I'd rather lick a crackhead's scabby elbow.
Very well, if you do not, we will kill your friend.
What?
Go on, kill him then. I don't give a shit.
Don't test my resolve, Mr. Fallon.
Oh, please crack on. I couldn't care less.
This joe has been doing my head for years. You'll be doing me a favor.
- Go on, mate, do him. - Mike! No way!
Armando. On tre. Uno.
Due...
- Tre. - Fine.
- Fine! I'll do it, for triple the fee. - You'll do it for his life.
This is simple.
Intercept and kill whoever is trying to take my figlio from me
and you can have your concubine back.
What the fuck does that mean?
Yeah, cheers lads.
As much as I'd like to cut my losses
and get the hell out of here, I couldn't do that to Fred.
And you know what makes this whole situation even more weird
is that the botched hit did have me written all over it.
What the bleeding hell am I going to do? I need a pint.
How did you find me, Ray?
Listen, Ray...
Do you know what really twists my knackers?
You put your faith in a foreign boozer, just like this one,
who claim to sell a classic full English breakfast,
they end up serving you pig swill like this.
Take this banger, yeah.
Looks decent enough.
And you trust that it's going to be wholesome,
nutritious, tasty as fuck.
But then you dig a little deeper beneath the surface and actually take a bite...
and you realize it's a treacherous, classless fucking letdown.
Just like you.
But I'm ravenous, so c'est la vie.
I heard that you've got a nice little earner going on down here.
I don't know what you mean, Ray.
Dear Ray, I hope you're well.
I just wanted you to know that I'm doing okay, so no need to worry.
- Me and Mike... - Fuck sake.
I mean, to be fair to Fred, he didn't actually say where here was.
But that numpty jots his note down on a napkin from the Black Boar Bar, Valetta.
Look, it's just a side thing we got going on down here.
It's not like we're breaking the bank or anything.
PS. We are breaking the bank.
Well, you know what Fred's like, Ray. He exaggerates.
Nothing we got going on down here
- is going to bother you... - Bother me!
You havin' a laugh?
You have bothered me, no, scratch that. You fucking ruined me.
Do you think anyone would hire us after what you did?
No need to answer that, 'cause the answer is a fucking obvious 'no'.
You left me with five fifths of fuck all.
And to think... you had the stones to start contracting again.
You destroyed what took me decades to build.
For that... you're gonna pay.
Well, I'll pay for your full English then, shall I?
You're gonna pay for more than that.
You brought me out of retirement.
I'm actually down here for a gig.
And the fact that the hit happens to be in Malta and I can catch up with my mates,
it's actually a little Brucey bonus.
It was you, wasn't it?
Yeah, that botched Zuuzer kid job. That was you, right?
- Not like you to miss, Ray. - Yeah well, like I said, a bit rusty.
Make mistakes, like I did back in London.
Should have just shot the cunt. Old school.
Listen, Ray.
You need to bail on this Zuuzer kid job, right?
They thought it was me who tampered the gas line,
you tried to make it look like an accident.
Now they've got Fred held hostage.
Anything happens to that kid, they're gonna kill Fred.
Well, it's not my problem, is it?
He's your mate now, not mine. You both made that abundantly clear.
I don't know why you took the job.
If you'd done your due diligence you would have known why we passed on it.
Why everybody fucking passed on it.
He's the heir to the Zuuzer family, for God's sakes.
Well, a mark's a mark and a job's a job.
I ain't scared of any crime family from the end of nowhere.
- You should be. - Well, I fucking ain't!
There was a time when we didn't give two shits who the mark was.
Well, that was before your little hissy fit.
The only thing you need to give a shit about is Mrs. Zuuzer
'cause she will slit Fred's throat if you don't call off this hit.
You haven't heard?
- Heard what? - Well, the client has upped the bounty by
fucking loads.
I ain't the sole contractor anymore. It's opened up.
- What're you talkin' about? To who? - Everyone worth their salt.
Cream of the crop landed on Maltese soil.
- Fucking joking. - They called us for a briefing.
I can't remember a client ever being arrogant enough to do that
but I guess money talks.
Paid us 50 grand just to turn up in person.
One by one, we had to step up
and load our bank details into the computer.
It's a massive 9 million euros to the lucky sod who gets the job done.
That's 7,675,056 Pounds Sterling in real money.
Who we talking about? Who'd you see?
Oyumi wasn't there, was he?
- Oh, we was there! - Yeah.
So no need to gild the pissin' lily on this one, eh?
'Cause Oyumi's a bona fide fucking ninja.
If he's sent your name, you won't see him coming.
So looks like Fred's fucked, 'cause if I don't do it,
rest assured one of the others will.
Ray, please, you need to help me with this one.
I ain't helping you with fuck all...
so stay out of my way.
And when I've snuffed out this little runt,
we'll get back to what you owe me.
Whatever we've got going on can wait because...
What's that?
It turns out that little twerp
has only got a fucking tracking device on him.
Client's sending the link now.
So you'd better get your skates on, 'cause it's a proper game on.
Come on.
To see some of my friend And find out the way
Come on.
Turn the music off. Get him off the stage.
What are you doing here?
Easy lads, I come in peace. We're all on the same team.
You need to get him out of here, quick!
We don't need your help, you English prick.
You actually do, mate,
this tone-deaf joke's got a tracking device
and a gaggle of assassins about to turn up, kill every last one of you.
Of course he has, you idiot. It's in his watch.
How else do you think we keep track of him?
- He's had it since he was a bambino. - Look, it's a burning fuse now, mate.
You need to get rid of it.
Who the fuck do you think you are, eh? Dickhead.
You're the fucking hired help. This watch, yeh, is a classic.
One of a kind. I would die before I take it off.
So up your fucking arsehole.
Take the watch and destroy it.
- What the fuck did I just say? - Good call.
Who you think you all are?
You fucking...
Problem solved.
Freya du Preeze, the Angel of Death.
Recruited in Johannesburg by Interpol
and trained in the dark arts by those who think James Bond is a muppet.
Move!
Freeze!
So stop.
- Freya. - Fallon.
- Been a while. - Like five years, I reckon.
Russia wasn't it?
You stole that dirty politician from me, eh?
You know what it's like. First come, first served.
I've always respected you, Fallon. You're a damn good assassin.
But if it's a choice between killing you or 9 million in my bank,
I'm afraid that's no choice at all.
This one's personal to me, Freya.
So, as a professional courtesy, I'm going to need to ask you to fuck off.
I can't fuck off, but I can fuck you up.
Okay, Freya, really nice seeing you again.
I think we should call it a day, don't you?
I see.
- Jesus Christ! - Well, move your fucking head then.
Please, please, please. I'll make you rich.
Please!
Fuck. Fuck!
Fuck.
Fucking out of order.
- Oh, God! What the fuck is going on? - Come here!
- Mr. Fallon, do you have my son? - I've got him, yeah.
But it proper kicked off back there, and your entire security team got wasted.
- Is he okay? - Oh, he's fine, yeah.
Apart from the fact he just decided to swallow his own watch.
Unless I cut it out of his guts,
he's gonna be a walking target till he pinches off his next loaf.
- When was the last time you took a shit? - None of your business.
Is that my Mamma? I want to talk to her. Mamma!
I need you to protect my son at all costs. Do you understand?
Listen. I ain't a fuckin' babysitter, okay?
I'm a professional killer.
And with all due respect, Mrs. Zuuzer, your son is an absolute twat.
We ain't gonna gel.
Mamma! This arsehole just punched me in the face...
You don't need to get along.
You just need to neutralize the threats and keep him alive.
You'll be lucky if I don't kill this prick myself.
If you ever want to see your friend again, you won't make that mistake.
Bring him back to me in one piece. Do we have a deal, Mr. Accident Man?
- All right, fine. - Then it's done.
- Come here. - What are you doing?
Take me to my Mamma. She's the only one who can protect me.
Listen to me, you idiot.
Your mummy just hired me to protect you, okay?
- So you do as you're fucking told. - You... you... you...
you are a fucking ugly troll.
Anybody ever tell you that, yeah, you look like a fucking melted Ben Affleck?
I'll tell my mamma how you treated me and you're gonna pay for your actions.
She knows exactly how to treat a man like you.
- And if you strike me one more time... - Oh, Jesus.
What you doing here?
- We haven't got the time to buy a shampoo. - Shut up!
- Laxatives, you got any? - Yeah.
- Well, give it to me. Come on, let's go! - Here.
- What the fuck are you doing? You... - Shut up.
You... What the... You...
- In one end, out the other, hey mate? - Just take me home, boy.
You call me boy one more time, I swear to God,
I'm gonna kill you.
I'll worry about killing your old mother when the time comes.
- You understand? - Take me to my mamma.
Take me to my mamma! Take me...
I'm gonna...
- You got a back way out of his place? - Yeah. There.
- Come here. Let's go. Keep moving. - Get the fuck off me.
Please, just give me five minutes. I cannot breathe.
I've got asthma, probably. Please.
- Hello? Are you listening to me? - All right, shut up!
Now this is the great Yendi..
Born in Ghana, named after the town he was abandoned in.
He sells himself as a sodding vampire,
but essentially he's just a fuckin' butcher.
- This Freya's blood? - Most of it.
- B Positive. - Always try to be, pal.
Foolish boy, B Positive is rare.
Only about eight percent, but not the rarest.
What type you rockin'?
Last time I checked, high bloody octane, mate.
Please kill him and my mamma will make you rich.
It does not work like that.
It works the way I say it works.
Stay there.
I'm looking forward to killing him
but I will savor that one till I'm done with you.
- Get up! - Fucking...
This way.
Fuck this.
Get up there.
- Get up there! - Push me, you fucking... Push me.
- Fucking get up there, you dum-dum. - I'm fucking trying.
Push!
- Use your arms, get up. - I'm using my arms.
What do you think I'm using, my teeth? Fuck!
Going to taste your blood.
Help! Help!
Dum-dum, where are you?
There's a fucking maniac with an ax trying to kill me.
- Somebody get... - Come here.
Right, just get in here and you stay in there if you know what's good for you.
Look, I'm scared...
Let me know how this tastes.
Nice and tasty?
AB negative.
The rarest and finest of them all.
What, me or you?
I... am unique, a less than one percenter.
You're a common, dirty boy.
- Shall I finish you off then? - No...
Let a brother bleed.
Go on then. Off you pop.
Is he dead?
He is now.
So what now, eh?
So, what are we doing now, idjota?
Idjota. I'm guessing that means idiot.
Why don't we put that on the same list as 'boy'?
I'm handling things. Come here.
Siu-Ling, when you get this message, I need you to do me a favor.
There's a karaoke bar off Strait Street, I need you to pick up my bike.
This whole place was drilled into the side of a cliff,
so these walls are as thick as my skull.
I hope we can figure out what to do with that homing beacon you swallowed.
I see... I like what you've done with the place.
Just sit there.
Right...
That is for puke, piss, shit, whatever else you feel like pushing out.
Are you insane?
I'm not going in a bucket.
I have rights.
You lost your rights when you decided to swallow that classic, you dimwit.
If you think I'm letting you out of my sight, think again.
So anyway, I know your mum might think it's irrelevant to us laymen,
but you mind explaining to me why five of the world's best assassins
are all lining up to take you out?
She must have pissed off some people in some very high places.
You think my mamma ever tell me anything?
She's a tyrant with thugs and gangsters,
imagine what it's like growing up with her.
It's like being raised by a fucking scorpion.
Think you had it bad?
You haven't got a clue, mate, right?
Imagine if the bloody Terminator was your surrogate father.
You don't know what you're talking about.
All I know is, nobody who crosses my mother crosses her twice.
My mother is so mean, even the devil would send her soul back.
- My mother... - My mother, my mother. Shut up.
Jesus Christ, I wish I hadn't flamin' asked.
- Can I, can I have water, please? - No.
Please.
Oh, I'm not safe with you.
- You're a magnet for psychos. - Oh, I'm a magnet?! No, no, no.
I'm not the one with a GPS signal wafting out of my arsehole, mate.
That's you.
You better hope they don't get to me.
Otherwise, your friend... he's going bye-bye.
It's going to be a long day, okay?
I don't have to listen to you blathering on.
You know what?
I hear that your digestive system works three times as fast once you're asleep.
So maybe you should get some kip.
It's the middle of the day. I'm not tired yet.
Okay.
Stunning, isn't it?
It's lovely.
Fantastic...
color palette.
Saint Anthony... performer of miracles.
Oh, right.
It is believed that back in the day
when Saint Anthony was walking the streets of Padova,
he saw a man fall from a tall tower.
Saint Anthony commanded him to stop.
And the man remained suspended in the air.
His life was saved.
That's very interesting.
The reason I'm telling you this
is that if today an annoying, bespectacled little man
were to fall from a great height,
I don't know if Saint Anthony would be around to perform such a miracle.
I don't know quite what you mean.
What she means, little man, is that we've lost Dante's signal.
This isn't very good news for you.
Mike'll get the job done.
You don't know him like I do.
Your faith in your partner is admirable. I can respect that.
But if your man does not bring back my boy
- to me... - He will. He will!
You better pray that he does, my little friend.
This place ain't watertight and if this pillock can't drop the kids off
at the pool anytime soon, we could get overrun.
Oh, here we go.
Looks like we have our first guest to the party.
I thought you said it was a flamingo situation and then you grab me.
- What the hell? - I thought we said no nut shots.
And I told you to protect them at all times.
I found your bike by the karaoke club.
Do you, did you get hit by a bomb? Was that you?
Hey, hey, where are you going?
What is this place?
Just somewhere me and Fred get a bit of work done.
- Don't worry about it. - You mean where you kill people?
I'm sorry, what?
Do you think I am stupid like you? I know what you do.
- Really? - Yes.
All right. That doesn't bother you?
No. I figured you only kill people who deserve it.
Oh, yeah, yeah. They definitely all deserved it.
Maybe I should join you.
How about it, Fallon? You think I can kill someone?
You know what?
With your temperament, yeah, I think you probably could.
Once you go down that road, there's... there's no coming back from it.
I don't think you want to do that.
- Let's go. - Why?
Are you in trouble?
I'm a better fighter than you. Let me help.
You're not a better fighter than me. But do you know what?
You're a good friend.
Though all you seem to do is scream obscenities
in my face and knee me in the bollocks,
I don't want to see you get hurt. So come on, we need to go.
Well, look who it is. Silas, the San Francisco Strangler.
Apparently this Brad Pitt wannabe used to be a model.
But when a photographer made the fatal mistake of calling him fat,
Silas strangled him to death and has never looked back since.
He's as vicious as a viper with a grip like an anaconda.
Bravo. That was beautiful.
A friend of yours?
We're not friends yet. But it's a lovely day for it, isn't it?
- Lovely day for what? - Choking overprivileged little piggies.
- None of those here, mate. - We both know there's at least one.
And I'm going to huff and puff and strangle that little porky pig.
You know what? Not sure that's how the rhyme goes,
but why don't you do me a favor?
Take your flasher's mac
and your shit jeans and piss off before you get your head kicked in.
- I heard you were arrogant. - I heard you were a throbbing twat.
I'm guessing both rumors were true.
Now, now, there's no need for language like that.
Which brings us back to Poco.
Poco, 'the Killer Clown'.
Now they say he was born in a brothel and is as tightly wound as a jack in the box.
He's one handle crank away from snapping.
This guy was supposed to be an urban myth,
but he looks pretty real to me.
So now there's a clown. I don't like clowns, Fallon.
Was it something I said? I knew she was dead
I could have just billed her Instead I just killed her
It's Poco Poco, the Clown
De-dum de-dum de-dum de-dum de-dum de-bum de-buppity bum
Oh, piss off, mate.
Cover me in honey and release the hounds.
Do you know what I like to do with pesky little boys like you?
Beat them.
Yeah, I bet you do. You weirdo.
Shut up. Enough! Get lost, clown.
This is my prize.
That's it.
Adios.
And for you, you're dead.
The same with your little girlfriend. But it won't be a swift death.
Oh, no, it'll be nice and sexy.
One where I really get to know her. You know the type, Fallon.
I'm gonna take great pleasure...
Well, that's one less horse in the race, eh, kids?
So, where is the birthday boy?
I bet he's so excited that Poco's at his party.
Oh, oh, oh, you are a sneaky little thing, aren't you?
I think you broke my septum.
You bitch! Fuck! Fuck!
I almost felt that.
Yeah, I heard about your condition, you freak.
Is that true, then?
You really can't feel any pain?
None whatsoever.
Congenital insensitivity to pain.
Isn't this fun, huh? Your turn.
If you lick it, I'll let you squeeze my nose.
Painful?
- Painful? - Nope.
How about that? Come on, you must have felt that one.
I did feel that...
and it felt good!
Come here.
Is that all you've got, you dirty pighead?
Oh, mercy!
You wench!
What? Your little pinkie hurting?
You're tougher than you look, little dragon.
Oh God!
Gesù I'm sorry for every bad thing I ever done.
Come on!
Come on, then.
Fucking mad!
For fuck sakes, Fred.
Nice.
Poco.
Poco the clown.
Now that... that must have fucking hurt.
See you.
Oi dummy, get down here. We need to go!
Siu-Ling, you all right?
- Where is he? - I choked him.
I think he's dead.
Okay, okay.
And how did that feel?
Pretty good.
Yeah! I done it.
I shit it out.
No!
Oyumi. Bollocks!
I'd think very hard about your next move, mate.
If you so much as a flinch, I'll torch the both of you.
Why would you do that?
Because I'm a fucking sore loser, that's why.
So it is true.
The famous 'Accident Man'...
once a great hunter, has now become a bodyguard.
- You think you're fast enough? - Try me.
I could slit his throat...
and your little courtesan's before you could even blink.
This thing spits out napalm like an 80-year-old man's piss pipe.
No telling where it's gonna go, but please be my guest.
Come here.
I wonder if I could kick your ass.
No dirty tricks, no accidents.
Just you and me in a martial combat.
- I will fuck you, you piece of shit. - You stay out of this, Siu-Ling.
Hey, listen, mate, you want a crack at the title?
Be my guest.
You'd better leave him breathing.
You do that and we can go round and round if you fancy it.
Very well.
This one is going nowhere.
- I'll take this fool. - No!
You're gonna pay for that.
Oh, I don't think so.
So this is what it feels like...
to be a loser.
Mikey-san, are we done?
Disappointing.
No, we ain't done, mate.
We ain't done.
Do you know what?
I never took a kicking I didn't learn from.
Why don't we try that again?
Very well.
Try to keep up this time.
Game over... Accident Man.
Well, that's enough.
Ray.
Ray!
Get out here, you bastard.
Ray, don't do it please. What about Fred?
What about him? Collateral damage, eh?
Just like the other Oasis members back in London you murdered.
Like you give a fuck.
I said, get out here, you little shit.
Look, I don't blame you for being pissed off with me, all right.
- I don't blame you. - Pissed? You ruined me.
Everything I worked my whole life for gone because of you.
And once I kill this little piece of shit,
I won't need anybody because I'll have my millions to keep me company.
Yeah, maybe...
but you'll still be a miserable old bastard, won't you? Huh?
Get out of my way or I swear to God, I will blow your fucking head apart.
No. You wouldn't do it in London
you're not gonna do it now, are you?
- Don't test me, boy. - Look,
I'm sorry for what happened in London. I'm sorry about that.
You're gonna have some responsibility for that
because you're the one that brought me up since I was a kid.
Yeah, too right I did.
In the words of the immortal Bard,
how sharper than a serpent's tooth is the scorn of a thankless child.
Grateful is what you should be.
Without me, you'd be nothing.
No, it's because of you that I'm a fucking arsehole! All right?
It's because of you that I don't have any mates.
And I keep people at a distance because you brought me up
to not give a shit about anyone but myself.
So the only reason I am the way I am is because of you.
But you know what?
Since I bumped into Fred
and I find out what it's like to have a real mate in your life,
someone you care about,
it made me realize that you were full of shit.
- You what?! - Yeah, you heard.
You're wrong to think that having mates around was bad for you.
And I was an idiot to listen to you.
Oh, no, no, no. You're an idiot if you don't!
We're killers. That's the way it has to be.
That's what it takes.
Is it what it takes, though?
I know weren't meant to have a moral compass
and all that shit but even killers need mates, right?
People that you care about, you need family.
You need people that give a shit about you.
I'll tell you what, if you don't have that...
well, then you're gonna just be a fucking miserable old bastard, aren't you?
Like you.
You're not gonna shoot me, Ray.
You're not gonna let Fred die either.
Get out here!
Cunt!
Nice speech.
How long you been workin' on it?
Since you threw me out of London.
Hand over that device in case there's any more muppets after you.
On second thoughts, just chuck it over here.
That was the only nice gift my mamma ever gave me.
Yeah, I know.
That's what we have to protect in order to keep Fred alive.
What a pile of wank.
Well, we better get this scrout back to his mummy
and get our little finicky bugger back, eh?
- Yeah. - Yeah.
Now we can't send you back
to your old dear covered in your own shit and claret can we now,
you abominable creature?
Get yourself cleaned up and put on a fucking suit.
Ah, no, those are Fred's suits.
- Really? - Fallon!
Shit... Siu-Ling.
Siu-Ling... You okay?
My head hurts.
What happened to that guy?
Oh!
It's a fucking horror show. Did you do that?
Yeah... well, kind of.
Not bad. Not bad.
What happened to your face?
Be nice to your mum.
My mamma's going to be so angry when she finds out how you treat me.
You and your assassin friends kicking me around like a fucking football.
I reckon she'll be angry about the fact that you shit yourself live on CCTV.
- I can show her the footage. - You wouldn't dare.
Wouldn't I? Anyway, calm down. Don't want you shitting yourself again.
We feared the worst after we lost the signal.
Yeah, well, your little soldier was a big boy and went potty, didn't you?
Can you please do something about him? Look at the fucking state of me.
Since we are here, I presume you have taken care of all our problems.
Hello. Hello? Can you hear me?
- Ciao Mamma. - Ciao Dante.
- Well? - Mamma!
Another word from you, figlio, and I will take care of you myself.
I am sure that 9 million euros would help me with my grief.
So?
Well, thanks to me, he's safe as houses now we got rid of that tracking device
and those assassins have popped their clogs.
- All of them? - The ones we know about, yeah.
What about the others?
I can't worry about things we don't know about yet, can I, you stupid berk?
I have to say I'm impressed, Mr. Fallon.
For a man who we only trusted to crash a car or two,
you have truly outdone yourself.
So bravo to you, signore.
You know what?
Hearing you say that makes everything worthwhile.
Sarcasm suits you, but your egotism will be the death of you.
I'll be sure to see to that if I ever see your face again.
- I've heard that one before. - I do not doubt it.
How we doin', Finicky?
All right, Mike.
Nice weekend?
Not really, mate. No.
So... shall we get on with it?
What? What? What? He just gets to leave, does he?
This fucking ape?
Yeah... He... he beat me like a dog.
He abused me, threatened to kill me.
Some pretty fucking terrible things about you as well, by the way
Come on. Come on, Fred.
What are you lookin' at, you fucking pleb?
You're all right, mate? Yeah?
We'll call it a day then, yeah?
We had an agreement which I'll honor, but show me the respect I deserve.
Leave this island and go and play with your little mishaps elsewhere.
Be happy to.
Come on, Fred.
What? That's it, is it? You gonna let him walk away?
Yeah, yeah, bye, you fucking twat!
Mamma.
Ray? What you doin' here?
- Did you get my note? - Yeah, he got the note.
Glad to see you made an effort, Fred. Anyway, first things first.
Let's see if your Savile Row skills are up to scratch, shall we?
Oh, is this one of mine?
Fuck you!
- Yes! - I don't believe that!
I told you it'd work.
Mate, I thought it was a crap idea but that scored like bleedin' Beckham.
I'll never doubt you again, buddy.
- Not just a hat rack, eh, Mike? - No mate.
All right, get in lads. Get in.
And then she fell off her barstool.
Hey, Fred, there is someone here to see you.
It's me, Leylo.
Is that really you, Fred?
Oh, my dear, sweet Fred. Come here.
Fuck me sideways.
So Fred finally met the love of his life and they lived happily ever after.
Ha-ha, did they? Bollocks.
It lasted about a fortnight
and when she realized Fred was a stone cold killer, she scarpered.
He got over it, though.
Big Ray decided to put his differences aside
and with the 9 million from the Zuuzer job,
we parlayed that into a new outfit and the world was our oyster.
So it was on to the next chapter,
which for a guy like me, is probably gonna be a fuckin belter.
Flamingo! Flamingo!
Cunt!
Quiet!
This isn't very good news for you.