All language subtitles for +Ballistic.2025

Nance.

- Back up. - Nance.

Back up!

Aim it at me.

Aim it at me.

Fuck, Nance.

Next one's in your chest.

Ten...

-nine... -Nance, don't.

...eight.

No, I don't want this.

...seven, six,

five, four...

-Nance. -Aim it at me!

Nance.

-...three, two... -No, no.

-Nance! -...one.

-Nance!

Okay, so after this...

-Mm-hmm. -...you need four A bolts.

-Oh, fuck. -And 24 D bolts!

So fun!

I'm sorry we're stealing your room.

No, look, I'm happy in Jesse's room.

You might have to get me out of here.

I think I'm stuck.

-Oh no. Now you know how I feel.

-Love you.

All right, see you next time.

-Hey. - Hi, Mom.

I miss you.

I miss you, too.

Hey, the nursery's finished. It looks nice.

Di is moving in next week.

The baby's coming.

-Yeah. -You're gonna be a great dad.

You think so?

I know so.

I don't know.

Uh...

You okay?

It's weird, you know?

At home...

everyone thinks they know what's going on

in the world, but, you know,

they don't know shit.

We don't know shit.

Oh, yeah, I don't mean you.

You don't mean I don't know shit?

No, I mean, me, everyone, all of us.

-Does that make sense? -Yeah.

But the military, they know what they're doing, so...

you're safe.

Yeah, it's just that we were out on patrol.

No idea why we left Jalalabad to begin with.

Our target's some low-rank Taliban guy.

Anybody got eyes on?

None of us really knows why we're sitting ducks

for a paper boy, but here we are.

The only people with cell phones are rich people

and the Taliban.

In the city, cell phones call fathers and wives.

Up here, they detonate bombs.

You see a guy in shabby clothes and a Samsung,

you shoot him on the spot.

One o'clock, 250 meters.

Fighting-age male.

He's got a phone.

I got him.

Oh, fuck.

-Hey, hey! - Light 'em up!

But it's not your usual we-shoot-you-shoot thing.

We never see them,

and their bullets aren't anywhere near us.

And the pattern's weird.

They wait for us to shoot

so they can shoot at the same time.

So we test it.

We play Jingle Bells with our gunfire, and so do they.

It's all just the echo off the mountains.

We still don't know if they even fired at us,

or if they were even there.

I don't know, maybe I shouldn't have said anything

when I saw the guy, but I had to.

It's my job.

Oh, you did the right thing.

You probably saved all their lives.

-You think so? -Yeah.

No.

I-I think you did.

Your gunfire probably scared 'em away.

Mom, it doesn't-- doesn't work like that.

I'm just saying you did your job.

You did it great. You should get a medal.

I would give you a medal.

A medal?

-Yes. -No, no.

I don't deserve a medal.

I don't...

How's Mr. Fish?

-Uh, Mr. Fish is great. -Yeah?

Take care of him.

We're just sitting here,

waiting for you.

Think we're going back out there again tomorrow.

I'm losing you. The Wi-Fi's really shit here.

No, I can see you.

-Mom? -Yeah.

Hey.

Jesse?

Hey, can you hear me?

Shit.

Hey, Nance.

What's up?

Hold up a second.

What? I have to get this done.

Accounting said I had to let one person go,

and I decided it should be you because, you know,

well, we're sort of friends, and I figured you'd understand.

It's a gift card.

My in-laws gave it to me

for the gun range up in the mountains.

I know you don't care for it,

but it's time you learn how to shoot these things.

I don't care for it, but...

-Really appreciate it. -You should try it.

Whenever my wife gives me my balls back,

I just go up there, and I shoot paper people,

and I'm the boss again, you know?

Of course, it's still snowing up there, you know?

Oh.

Ah, that's good.

What'd you do this weekend?

I turned the smoker up to 175, and I marinated some wings,

and boom, flavor country.

I mean, those wings were chuggable.

Yeah, Jesse hates wings. He says it's weird

swallowing the flight of all those birds.

Huh.

Yeah, wait, you heard from him?

Yeah, I-- I spoke to him last night.

He's halfway to coming home.

Oh, wonderful.

Well... Well, you hit the range,

and then he won't come home

and find his mom still a scaredy-cat with the guns.

Mm-hmm. See you, Rick.

See you.

See you tomorrow.

Mm-hmm.

I talked to him last night.

I talked-- I talked to him.

Family not coming?

No.

Can we still move in with you?

You married Jesse, you got me, too.

Would you like a viewing?

-Yeah. -No.

Can I touch him?

Of course.

Are these the boots he was wearing when--?

Yes.

Can I keep 'em?

Um...

Oh, no, you-- you should have them.

Also, we have a support group on the base

for surviving family members.

Uh, it would be helpful, maybe, for the grieving process.

-Is this all there was? -Yes.

Where's the bullet?

Uh...

Well, the folks at Dover who received Jesse

thought it would be more respectful

to leave the bullet inside of him.

What kind was it?

What kind?

Yeah, what caliber?

You did X-rays, right?

Yes, of course. They-- They would have. Um...

It's never very accurate,

but the bullet they think was a...

uh, possibly a 5.56 NATO,

but it's always hard.

That's for an M4 or an M16 or possibly an AR-15.

American guns, American bullets.

Well, I'm sorry, we don't have that information, ma'am.

How do we take it out?

That would have to have been done at Dover, I'm afraid.

You can do it, right?

Technically, we can if authorized by the next of kin.

Okay. It's...

It's just it's unorthodox, ma'am,

to do this after the deceased has been prepared.

You want to take it out?

Yeah. Yeah, I do.

Why?

Because we need to know what kind it is.

It would be easiest to remove the bullet

from the existing wound.

It's just sitting there in the pectoral.

No, we're not cutting into him.

It's insane to cut into him because you are curious.

Diana.

Leave him alone.

You were right. It's...

It's fucking crazy wanting to take it out.

It's not the right reason.

Jesse wouldn't want it in him.

He needs to be perfect.

Jesse's gone.

He doesn't care about the--

Then what's the harm in just taking it out?

-What difference does it make? -I want it out!

I want it out!

You know, maybe you should, um...

Maybe you should try the counseling thing.

I'm sorry.

Ma'am.

Support group?

Shit.

We want justice.

It's a fire in our bellies.

But judgment, this no one likes.

This we hate.

But how can we have justice, but no judgment?

And who is the judge?

Me?

You?

If we want justice, we must first ask,

"Who is the judge?"

Okay, Francesca, your share.

I got a letter from the IRS yesterday

saying I hadn't paid enough taxes last year.

I owe $723 still.

I wrote them a letter, and I sent them a copy

of my son's death certificate and said, "I already paid."

Anthony would have been 58 last week,

but he was killed in Kuwait by a Scud in '91.

Now he's with Jesus and the saints,

and I pray for those that killed him.

I pray for them.

Hmm.

Where are you going, ma'am?

Uh, I didn't realize this was

the "let's pray for the people who killed our kids" group.

I'd rather drain their fucking blood, but good for you.

I'm happy for you.

Fuck!

I meant where are you going because it's the other door.

Hey.

Are you okay?

Look, was it the-- was it the Oreos?

Were they stale?

I've been considering getting fresh donuts,

but I work here on the base

and don't have time to go and come back.

It's a whole thing.

Wait, wait. Come on.

I came to the wrong meeting.

I know, it's good to talk.

Or just scream "fuck."

Fuck! Fuck!

It's actually pretty good.

Hey, look.

Anytime, 300 a.m., you call me.

I'm probably awake.

I just came to the wrong meeting.

-Big fire in the belly, huh?

Big, big belly fire.

They're always up to something.

Miss Redfield?

I moved Jesse's body into the visitation area.

It's more comfortable than the fridge.

I just wanted more time with him.

Would you like the casket opened?

No.

Take as much time as you need.

Copper jacket, lead core.

-Hi.

Hey, um, I want you to test the metal

on these four projectiles against this.

See if they match.

You do that, right?

I mean, in theory.

-Great. -No, no. We--

We don't take walk-ins.

Uh, you need an approved work order.

Like...

I can give you 5,000 cash.

-I think it's only like-- -Six thousand.

-Like 80 to a hundred bucks. -I can get it from the bank.

Listen, I can't just accept a lady off the street

with a pocket full of bullets.

This one killed my kid.

And these four I made.

Please.

I don't really know what goes on back there.

I can slip it in to Carla under...

Punch it in as a one-off test.

Or "not listed."

That's only gonna be $80.

Thank you.

- Mom? - Yeah.

Excuse me.

-Hi. - Hi.

Was it a match?

As far as the chemical structure of the metals go,

given the variables,

we found that the discharged bullet had a...

73.9 percent probability match

to one of the other bullets.

The one labeled "Price 5.56 NATO X-412."

73.9?

That's correct.

The bullet they think was a, um...

possibly a 5.56.

I'm sorry. We don't have that information.

Rick?

I thought you were taking the day to...

Look, I'm sorry.

I meant to swing by the cemetery,

but got caught up here.

You know, I thought it was perfect.

That we were shipping to the same place...

Jesse was sent.

I didn't realize some of our bullets

were going to the enemy, did you?

Look, it's not our fault

if the Afghan soldiers sell the ammo

or the Taliban steals it,

or whatever the fuck they do over there, all right?

Once the product leaves here, it's out of our hands.

Once it leaves here, it doesn't go to fucking outer space.

We live in a blender.

You taking poetry classes now?

-Fuck you. -Look, if you wanted to know,

all you had to do is look it up.

Sounds like you figured out how to do an internet search.

Pretty sure the Web's been around since the '90s.

Just doing our job.

Just doing our job.

Just making money.

Some of us buying ugly fucking cars.

I worked that machine so I could raise Jesse.

And his body came back

with a little piece of lead in it, so...

What, you would have preferred to raise Jesse on welfare

and your principles?

Shut down this factory

so Milos and his five boys end up on the street?

Someone else make what we're making here

so I can feel good about myself?

Fuck that, all right? I do feel good about myself.

And so did you up until a week ago.

What the fuck you doing?

Don't you fucking light that!

You will blow this whole fucking place up and you with it, Nance.

Nance!

We sell contracts.

Okay? To the United States government.

What the military does with those bullets is on them.

We're the little shits here.

We make metal.

All right? We're not the problem.

You know what the problem is?

The government. You can't trust 'em.

That's why we make guns in the first place, right?

Right?

Does ash ignite gunpowder?

Don't you fucking...

Fuck you, Nancy.

I guess not.

Fuck. What the fuck is wrong with you?

It's okay.

You're okay.

You just take your gun.

Go shoot some paper people.

Feel like the boss again.

Folks, you need to open your eyes

and take a look around you.

You are living in a broken world.

It's not a just world. It's not a free world.

All of your choices cost you,

and you pay what they want, when they want.

They decide what you're gonna eat.

They decide when you're going to eat it.

They decide when you sleep, they tell you how to live.

And if we're being honest,

they probably decide when and how you're going to die.

-Keys.

Miss Redfield, I'm glad you came.

Uh, I have questions.

Of course.

Jesse's final moments. What was he doing?

Yes, of course.

Um...

Obviously, most of these missions are classified.

-But I can-- -Whatever you can.

Okay.

So, uh, Jesse's platoon

was in the mountains south of Jalalabad.

It's a region that's typically been a Taliban stronghold,

and so the platoon was pursuing a target.

Chasing a paper boy.

Excuse me?

Jesse told me they were sitting ducks chasing a paper boy.

No, it's not what it states here.

Again, obviously, I can't go into specifics--

He was there. That's what he said.

Yes, ma'am.

The information is classified,

so I am not at liberty to further disclose.

My kid was killed by an American bullet

issued by the U.S. Military.

Can you disclose that?

What are you referring to?

There's a whole system.

Donkeys bringing shit back and forth.

It's untraceable.

I guess you can't blame a donkey.

Do you have a question, ma'am?

-Who fucked up? -Nobody did.

Who fucked up?

Miss Redfield, no one did.

You're hiding something?

I'm not hiding anything, ma'am.

And you were asking about classified information--

He was your responsibility!

-Yours! -Jesus!

I gave him to you!

- Ma'am! - No, hey!

Stop! Stop!

Stop! Lower your firearm!

- Stop resisting. - Miss Redfield. Stop.

Miss Redfield, calm down.

-It's okay. Nancy, hey.

Cuff her.

What were you planning to do with the knife?

It was a steak bone.

Sorry, I don't know what the fuck's wrong with me.

I haven't been sleeping.

What were you hoping to achieve?

I just want to know what's going on.

What is going on, Nance?

What do you want to know?

We can't hold you.

But we'll be making an internal review

to see if this incident should be turned over

to local law enforcement.

And in the interim...

your access to the base has been suspended.

I want to know who killed my kid.

This is part of war, ma'am.

Your son bravely took on that risk

when he decided to enlist.

I used to shoot like you.

All passion, no target.

You follow me up here?

I am an Eagle member.

I've never seen you here before. Maybe you're following me.

Maybe you came to the right group after all.

Looking for a gun younger than you?

I want an AR-15.

Like mine.

Maybe, uh...

Maybe we go get pizza instead.

I don't like pizza.

Who doesn't like pizza? You like burritos?

I fucking hate burritos.

Carne asada. I like carne asada.

Good for you.

Sir?

Please show my friend your 5.56 carbine.

Absolutely.

That's mine.

It's the best semi-automatic.

Best legal semi-automatic.

-You army? -Contractor for the army.

Where are you from?

I'm from Price, like you.

Not what you meant. Um...

I live in Sunrise Apartments.

No more bolt action like your Marlin.

You don't need to cock between shots.

Why don't you go for something like, uh,

a Remington double-barrel for, uh, bird hunting.

Glock 19 for safety.

-What are you looking for? -Not birds or safety.

It's a lot of power if you're not used to it.

I want this one.

Why?

I want to shoot something else.

She's buying an AR-15.

Just need her driver's license.

I'll give you free lessons, okay?

Why?

Group member rate.

Well, I'm not in your group, and I don't need lessons.

I've seen you shoot. You need lessons.

I'll take a box of Price X-412.

Four boxes, John, for our lesson.

Is this how you get dates?

I'll buy the ammo for the non-date lessons

I'm forcing on you.

Great.

Shoot at the end of a long breath,

once all the air is out.

Till there's no air left.

Good.

Did you know that gunpowder

was invented by accident?

Yeah, the Chinese were trying to make a potion for immortality

and made gunpowder instead.

Perfect.

I lost my son, too.

It's going on right under our noses.

Everything you see around you

is just a distraction from what's really going on.

There are these evil people.

They're evil.

And they're coming for you.

They're coming for your kids.

They want your kids.

And they don't just want to control how you think.

But they want your damn blood.

They want your blood.

Going hunting, Nance?

Yeah.

What are you hunting?

Mailbox was full, so...

you should probably pay these bills,

or we'll be living in the dark soon.

I'm thinking about moving in next week, if that's okay.

Yeah.

So, you're still gonna help us?

-Yeah. -Why won't you look at me?

-I did. -No, you didn't.

-I did when you walked in. -Why don't you look at me now?

For the baby shower,

my mom gave me a 15-pack of Natty Light,

so I'm not sure how much help that's gonna be.

And I'm still sleeping in the bathroom

'cause my stepdad won't stop chain-smoking.

That's the only room with a fan.

So, it's--

One sec.

What is this?

It's, uh, everything.

I want you to have everything.

The whole house.

-Might want to fix the door. -What are you talking about?

You're not going anywhere.

The house is too big for me anyways.

I don't want your money, and I'm not living here without you.

It's the right thing to do, and I don't like the house anymore.

I want to live here with you like we planned.

Besides, the Army gave me 18,000.

They gave you money for Jesse?

18k?

A grand for every year of his life?

It's guilt money to shut me up.

It's what his life was worth.

I thought of every way to look at it, and honestly,

I don't really care 'cause it helps me raise this kid.

Cash. I'll give you cash.

It's better anyways.

You're the person that did the right thing

when Jesse's dad died.

And you were, like, not that much older than me, right?

Working full-time with a newborn.

Your parents were dead by then.

Jesse told me.

No, he bragged about it.

'Cause you were like this superhuman because you fed him,

and you wiped his ass, and you loved the hell out of him.

And you raised a great person, and you did it alone.

I'm right there, Nance.

I'm sitting in the exact same spot,

and I don't think I can do this.

Not on my own.

Just think about what Jesse would want.

Please.

The world's being divided

by wolves and sheep.

Which one are you?

Okay. Probably a nine.

High grip into the beavertail.

-Solid trigger to the wall.

Nice.

Much better. Again.

Elbows tucked in.

Butt stock in the bone.

Mm-hmm.

Make sure...

there's no dark spots in the scope.

Over here, we shoot for fun like darts or cornhole.

Back home, when I was a translator,

we'd go into the villages and shoot for different reasons.

Where is back home?

Excuse me?

Where's back home?

District 8.

Quiet area of Kabul.

Kabul?

Nice neighborhood.

Is that a fucking joke?

No.

You're Afghani?

"Afghan" is the correct term.

And the people in the support group know where you're from?

They know my story, most of it.

It's helped people, me being from there.

Your son was a translator?

-My son was 7. -You said he was a soldier.

I did not. You must have assumed.

At least on the American side.

Technically, because I was on the American side.

The Taliban didn't like me working for the enemy.

I was warned.

What happened to him?

A lot of us don't get visas.

I did.

My C.O. got me this job,

and now I have the perfect American life.

And I love Home Depot

and Girl Scout cookies and Pilates.

But...

I just wish I could be back home eating Kabuli pulao with my son.

You need a one-for-one like me.

No, no.

You said we all want justice.

My justice is a good life here.

You traded your son for America.

That's your justice.

Hey, Nance.

Hey, it's Rick.

I get you're, you know, going through...

what you're going through, but you--

Oh, you fucked my car.

You really did.

Uh, so you're fired.

And the insurance company will have questions for you.

And if you step foot on business property again,

I will be in my legal right to shoot.

And, uh, I am--

I'm sorry for your loss.

Hey, I'm in your parking lot, I think.

Follow me up the mountain.

Pepperoni and pineapple.

We were there in this little motel and, uh,

Jesse and I, he was like 4 or 5,

and he takes this leap from my bed to his,

and he misses totally and--

and flies into the wall, and then there's this cute

little ass-shaped hole in the drywall.

Cost me 300 bucks to get out of there.

Ass-shaped hole in the drywall?

Okay, you know, before I die, I want to put

an ass-shaped hole in the drywall.

-Whoo!

What was he like?

Jesse, uh...

Best thing I did.

If you knew how it would go, do you...

You would still...?

A thousand times, I would.

Me too.

If I could just have one minute with Arash,

this is better than none.

Arash means...

It's-- It's not sunshine.

It's...

The first-- the first thing in the morn--

I've never thought about explaining this in English.

Ray. First ray of sunlight.

That's nice.

How'd it happen?

We were eating Froot Loops.

A strange food given to me by the Americans.

And I was looking at my boy.

And then my windows exploded,

and bullets lit up my kitchen.

One of the bullets, they...

Those eyes without life.

I wonder sometimes if I should have picked sides.

I thought it was the right thing to do,

but working with the Americans cost my son, so I don't know.

I've not told this to anyone.

How do you know it was the Taliban?

I mean, they warned me.

What, that's it? That's...

That's all you needed?

How do you know it wasn't the Americans?

They'd have no reason to.

They make mistakes all the time.

Friendly fire.

Bad intel.

It wasn't the Americans.

Well, for all we know,

it was the Americans that shot up your house.

And for all I know, you hate the fucking Americans,

and the Taliban recruited you,

and now you're here on some mission.

We think we know everything, and we don't know shit.

You think I'm Taliban?

I'm just saying it makes fucking sense.

Taliban or not. Terrorist or not.

These are my choices?

You're working with military families.

You're trying to be my friend.

Look, I am here in this country.

Why would the Americans kill my son and give me asylum?

Does this make sense to you?

What if it happens again?

They-- It can't happen. There's no Taliban here.

They're here!

They're fucking here.

And why are you in America, huh?

Why does the translator know so fucking much about firearms?

Many translators carry firearms.

Some of us have to use them.

-You're fucking with me. -No.

Yeah, you gain my trust and then what?

-What?! -Fine.

Nance...

I am Taliban.

Allahu Akbar!

Deep down, all we do is we hate Americans,

and we want all of them to die.

That's-- that's what you want to hear?

If that-- No, no, no, hey.

If that's how you feel, pick that up and shoot me.

Go ahead.

Get your one for one!

People like you do a much better job of hating Americans

than people like me ever could.

I thought that we needed you,

and now I'm starting to think that you need us.

My door is closed to you, Diana.

What?

Don't play dumb, Di.

I did it for years.

You don't think I saw you in town,

spending Jesse's blood money?

Buying that shiny new car with your new beau.

Seriously?

That new beau is my cousin!

Who's the only one who's giving me a hand right now.

Who's the only one who has offered

to drive me to the hospital when my fucking water breaks.

Which, by the way, is gonna be sometime tonight or tomorrow.

And because my cousin doesn't have a car

and my fucking black-smoke-spewing shitbox

isn't working and isn't good enough for a baby,

I got a used fucking Honda Fit to drive Jesse Junior home in.

It's a boy?

You're calling it "Jesse"?

-Let me help you. -No, no, no!

Get a look at yourself!

Jesse would be really disappointed in you.

What happened to Jesse wasn't my fault.

It's not-- it's not your fault.

Is this what's bothering you? Do you think that I blame you?

I'll see you.

Nance, are you in or out? I need to know.

Nance!

Are you in or out?

It's-- It's my money.

I want to withdraw all of it.

You want to withdraw the total balance?

Yeah.

Uh, you can't come in here with that.

There's a sign.

It's-- it's my right to carry,

and it's your right to refuse service.

But if I come in here anyway, it's a C-class misdemeanor

with a $200 fine.

So, why don't you let me finish,

and I'll tip you on the way out.

Just keep it on your shoulder.

Are you sure you don't want to wire transfer the money

for security purposes?

No, I have security.

Fifties and hundreds.

Hey, Diana.

I left you something with Jesse under the flag.

Love the shit out of that kid.

Fuck!

What'd you get?

Hmm?

Burrito. What'd you get?

Um, chicken.

Tastes like pork, so who knows?

Yeah, they're shitty here. Never know what you're getting.

I'm sorry. Do we know each other?

You remember recruiting Jesse Redfield?

Of course.

Right, right.

I was so sorry to hear about your son.

Why?

-Excuse me? -Why are you sorry?

Just that you lost him. He seemed like a good kid.

Yeah, guilty people say that. They're sorry.

Look...

Jesse's not the first kid I recruited who was KIA.

You're not the first parent to come talk to me about it.

Just the first to do it at Gonga's Grill.

Are you laughing at me?

No, ma'am.

By the time I came into the office with Jesse,

he'd decided to enlist.

Had a kid on the way. He needed a job.

Could have worked with me, but...

no.

You work for the war machine, or you go to war.

You make burritos.

You should be the kid making burritos.

What did you say to him?

Ma'am, I'm a career counselor, an employee.

I just do my job.

Just do your job.

I just do mine. He just did his.

You sold my kid like a used car.

You're right, ma'am.

My kid dies, I'd probably show up here, too.

That's a nice M9, by the way.

Let me ask you a question, ma'am.

How'd you feel the day Jesse enlisted?

Yeah.

Proud.

I remember thinking that. "Look at this mom.

So proud of her kid."

And you were right to be proud, ma'am.

Why do you think I do this job?

'Cause 37K a year is my idea of a great life?

When I drink, it's a Keystone in a can.

I eat at Gonga's.

You think I wouldn't rather be selling, like,

watches or barbecues or something?

Man, I can sell the shit out of barbecues.

So why am I doing this?

'Cause I love my country?

Yeah, sure.

Yeah, but no one goes to war for love, ma'am.

You know, I've been over there.

Two tours.

Now, I piss in a bag, and I'm in the market for a girlfriend

who likes a soft dick.

Us little guys go to war for three reasons, ma'am.

One, it's a better job than plumbing.

Two...

just always ends up being us little guys

protecting the big guys.

And three...

You think it was the government who shot me in the pelvis

and killed three of my friends?

No.

Think some recruiter did it? No.

Some senator? No.

No, it was the Taliban, ma'am.

And they celebrated after.

Yeah, we could hear them.

Shouting, laughing.

Fucking evil.

I didn't kill Jesse, ma'am.

Taliban killed Jesse.

And you can bet, ma'am,

that those jihadists threw a party.

Fuck!

Fuck!

Hey!

911, what's your emergency?

Nance!

I know you don't want to hurt me, Nance.

You had a clean shot I know you can make.

Nance!

Where's your rifle?

In the gun net.

You're supposed to bring your fucking rifle.

Put down the rifle, Nance.

I killed my kid.

It was me.

I'm fucking tired.

We're both gonna die one day.

And be with our boys again, hmm?

But not yet.

Okay? We're still here for some reason.

Maybe I'm here for you. Just please give me the rifle.

Please give--

-Nance... -Back up.

-Nance. -Back up!

Aim it at me.

Aim it at me.

Fuck, Nance.

Next one's in your chest.

Ten...

-Nance. -Nine...

-Don't. -...eight...

-No, I don't want this. -...seven, six...

No, I'm not helping you kill yourself, Nance.

Aim it at me!

-Nance. -...three...

-No. -...two...

-No, Nance! -...one.

Nance!

Eyes open, eyes open. Hey, hey.

It's okay.

It's okay.

It's okay. It's okay.

- All right.

Relax, and deep breath.

And get ready, honey.

You're doing so good.

You got this, okay?