All language subtitles for Die.in.a.Gunfight.2021.720p.BluRay.800MB.x264-GalaxyRG-en

Provided by explosiveskull
https://twitter.com/kaboomskull

Since the age of five,

Ben Gibbon had been in 723 scrapes,
scuffles and brawls.

An approximate 32.86 per year.

And he lost every single one.

With a record like that,

his therapist determined
that he was actually trying to lose,

and in truth, for Ben,
winning was never the point.

It was more like a nagging sensation

that he was floating
around inside his own brain,

watching his life like it was a movie
where nothing happened.

He could see it, but he couldn't feel it.

So he was left with a violent need
to feel something.

- Hey!
- Anything.

Detached from reality

and a captive audience
of his own movie,

Ben searched out
increasingly disruptive ways

of at least making it a crowd-pleaser.

It was an aimless search,
rife with conflict and self-abasement.

Until, without ever really knowing
what he was looking for,

he found love.

Holy shit.

All at once, Ben's world came alive

and he felt his life with an immediacy
he never thought possible.

But then, just as suddenly
as it had appeared,

it was gone.

And just like that,

Ben found himself
right back where he started.

Stay down, bitch.

One moment.

Mm.

Oh, fuck, fellas.

Still beating.

Son of a...

Why are we going to this, again?

It's gonna be fun.

It will not be fun.

You sure it's not
because you heard she's back?

I doubt she'll be there.

It's her house.

We're not even invited
to this thing, are we?

Nope.

Mukul's concern was justified,

as Ben had a reputation
for terrorizing high society events.

In fact, after a recent string
of flagrant infractions,

a newly minted restraining order
made the point loud and clear.

Ben Gibbon was very much not welcome.

- Uh, Mom's coming.
- Benjamin.

- Oh, my God. What are you doing here?
- Hey, Mom.

Free booze. Thank you, perfect timing.

- Thank you.
- Come with me.

You do realize that you
were banned from these events.

Ma, it's water under the bridge.

You punched the president
of the Exeter Club,

- urinated on the carpet.
- Yeah, yeah. We get it, we get it.

Why can't you keep him
under control, Mukul?

Your son's an anarchist, Mrs. Gibbon.

- He's a Democrat.
- What's that?

Uh, Mom, they're bruises,
they don't come off.

Have you two been smoking dope?

- Yeah.
- No.

- Son.
- There's your father.

- Batman.
- That's the man.

What? It's really good.

Mm-hmm. If William
and Beatrice see him here,

it's gonna make an already
uncomfortable situation...

My eyes must be deceiving me.

Not much for appearances, are we?

Just a little scuffle,
you know how boys are.

That's not the point.

Your son is trespassing.

I'll keep a close eye on him and he's
going to behave himself. Right, Benjamin?

Hmm?

Thank you.

Do I need
to call the authorities?

Can you try to not look so miserable?

The city's most eligible bachelors
are here tonight

and you're sitting in the corner.

Humor me. Make an effort.

I don't want everyone talking about how
my daughter looked miserable all night.

Mary Rathcart first upset
her parents' lofty expectations

when, at the age of 12,

she was expelled from the city's
most prestigious private school.

By the time she was 16,

she had been kicked out
of every private school in town.

But she finally went too far

when she fell for Benjamin Gibbon,

the notorious son
of her father's bitter rival.

When the news broke,
it was an instant scandal

and she was strictly forbidden
from seeing the Gibbon boy ever again,

which, as far as Mary was concerned,
simply wasn't an option.

So she made a secret plan
to abscond with Ben to Mexico.

But their plan was soon thwarted

and Mary was abruptly shipped off
to boarding school in Paris,

where her talents would be cultivated
in a more regimented environment.

Mary wrote Ben many times,

first to say...

- I miss you.
- Then to ask...

Did you forget me?

- Then simply...
- Fuck you!

But for reasons
Mary couldn't fathom,

Ben never wrote back.

And so she never wrote again.

She did her best to forget about Ben
and forget the world she left behind.

She remained in Paris
to study at the Sorbonne

and committed herself
to a brand new life,

but her heart remained fraught,

plagued by a chronic loneliness
she simply couldn't shake.

And yet her overbearing father

made sure she was
always closely watched,

so she was never
quite as alone as she felt.

In the end, time doused
what fire was left in her

and like a domesticated bird
seeking the comfort of the cage,

she returned home, weary and humbled,

right back where she started.

I said, "See him out."

Benjamin was already leaving, William.

What? Do you have something to say?

Just wanted to show face.

Why don't you throw a steak on that eye?
You look like a goddamn criminal.

For generations, the Gibbon
and Rathcart families

had stood in staunch
opposition of one another.

One might even go as far
as to call it a "blood feud,"

and like all blood feuds,

it began with a bit of blood.

The year was 1864.

Tarleton Rathcart
and Theodore Gibbon,

both powerful figures in New York City's
burgeoning news industry,

met as gentlemen duelers
after an unflattering story

was run in Theodore's paper
in regards to Tarleton's shoes.

Theodore fell to Tarleton's bullet,

uttering the dying words...

Tell that cheating bastard Rathcart
I'll see him in hell.

Over the years,
both families' publications

grew steadily into opposing media
conglomerates

known today as
Gibbon Telecommunications

and the Rathcart Corporation,

and the dueling continued.

One could easily call it the most
combative media rivalry in history,

but for Henry Gibbon
and William Rathcart,

it was never about business...
it was personal.

Excuse us. Come, son.

You're a grown man.

It's time you act like it.

Get out.

What was that all about?

William was a little harsh, wasn't he?

Mary's back.

Bro, the coats.

Hmm.

Okay.

Security!

- Oh, my God!
- Hey, you got it?

Go, go, go, go, go!

He stole the coats again.

Walter,
that's my coat! Stop him!

Gibbon!

Mary's exile to Paris
was conducted swiftly and without warning.

He called and texted,
but was never answered.

He emailed,
but received no response.

Mary's whereabouts and her silence
remained a haunting mystery

until Ben happened across a gossip story
detailing her exploits in Paris.

Heartbroken, Ben used the one-way ticket
he had hoped to use with Mary

and disappeared
to Mexico unannounced,

with no intention of returning.

His only attempt to communicate
his dire existential intentions

was a cryptic letter
sent to his mother and father.

He returned seven months later
in the company of Mukul.

Having sworn an oath of secrecy,

neither of them ever
spoke a word of how they met,

but they had been
inseparable ever since.

You know, I just can't stomach this.

After all these years, you'd think even
that kid would find a way to grow up.

Henry's gonna have
to write a check this time.

It's best to not get embroiled, darling.

He does this kind of thing often?

Whenever he decides to show his face.

Oh, I know that look, Mary.

- Shall I pull out the scrapbook?
- No, please, don't.

You know, most parents keep
a record of their kids' achievements,

not their failures. It's weird.

My mother always said, "There's no greater
teacher than shame."

Don't be dramatic. It's funny.

I wouldn't wish him on my worst enemy.

Third grade report card.
Flabbergasting precociousness.

The boy is
properly sick in the head.

Turned down the family fortune.

- He did?
- Oh, I love this one.

You remember Felix Graham?

He had a few sessions
with him some years back.

Pathological contrariness.

Said he had a screw loose.

- Oh, this is classic.
- Point taken.

He said he had some kind
of death wish taking all those beatings.

Imagine a kid
getting a diagnosis like that.

- A death wish?
- Enough!

Ben Gibbon is in the past,

just like all of these
other regrettable decisions.

And you being home doesn't change
anything. Am I understood?

Mary knew that a prerequisite

for being back home
under her parents' roof

was maintaining
a quietly obedient exterior.

Fuck!

Mary.

Something to say?

No.

The young male gibbon

will now challenge the dominant male
for control of the family.

If the adolescent continues his challenge,

the dominant male will respond
with a violent attack...

forcing the young gibbon to strike off
on its own in search of a mate.

Hmm.

- Hey, strangers!
- Cheers.

- Oh, my God!
- Lily.

- Finally.
- You're back, wow!

- Oh my God, shots!
- She's here.

- Cheers.
- Oh.

- We'll keep 'em going.
- What's going on?

I have to dance.

What are we forgetting?

Oh, God. Everything.

Oh!

- Terrence.
- Peekaboo.

What are you doing here?

I missed you.

- How did you know I was here?
- Come with me.

I got us a private room, so we can talk
away from these animals.

Terrence.

You followed me here, didn't you?

It would appear that way.

Well, that's not your job anymore,
SO you need to stop doing it.

Mary.

I recall the good times
we shared together.

The romantic nights.

Look at this little lost soul, doll.

I think he's cute.

Oh.

My wife thinks you're cute.

Like a rabbit.

Why don't you go over there and play
with the new pet rabbit, huh?

Go on, have fun.

Hey, Rabbit, you know what I've always
thought would be a cool way to die?

Shark attack.

A big fish

with big, bloody
razor-sharp teeth eating you.

There he is.

Oh, here he comes.

Yeah, see, the point is, mate,
we're all running round, right?

Like we're too special to get eaten
by a bloody shark.

But we're not, right?

We're just monkeys. Monkeys in suits.

We are just little bloody mascots

for the great,
big organ grinder in the sky.

So, Rabbit, how do you wanna die?

I wanna die in a gunfight.

Die in a gunfight? You hear that, doll?

Here we was, just thinking
you were a scared little baby rabbit.

Jesus, mate.

Look what you've gone and done.

It's true what they say, I guess.

Every bird likes a bad boy.

How old are you,
you rascally little wabbit?

I'm 27.

Bullshit, mate. I don't believe you.

- I wanna see some identification, please.
- Guys.

Where are you bloody going, mate?
Sit, sit, sit, sit.

Come on, hand it over.
Come on. You're not under arrest yet.

Checks out. Have a look at that, doll.

It's a lot of fun,
but I have to get going.

- Oh, no.
- Rabbit!

We're just getting started here, mate.

After everything
that we've been through together,

I wouldn't have thought
that you'd be ashamed of me.

I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Good.

Because I think the feelings...

our feelings, are still there.

There were never any feelings.

Mm.

Terrence.

I...

That was then.

This is fucking now.

- What are you doing?
- Mary, I love you.

- Terrence, please. I don't love you.
- Mary...

Okay, just... Terrence.

- What is that?
- Our logical conclusion.

Are you insane?

Terrence, just go.

Terrence, just go.

Mary, come on.

Terrence, please, just go away.

Hey, Barb, you wanna dance with Rabbit?

She's a really good dancer.

No. Like I said,
I have to get going.

I said dance.

What's up, doc?

Whoo!

She is my shining angel.

And if my shining angel wants to dance,

then she's gonna
bloody well dance, mate.

Isn't that right, hon?

Sure is, sugar pie.

Look at this, mate.

Two halves make a whole.

- I love you, baby.
- I love you.

You wouldn't wanna hurt my angel's
feelings now, would you, Wabbit?

No, but like I said, I have to get going.

Here I am,
thinking that you're a big grown rabbit.

Maybe I'm wrong.

Maybe you're just a pussy.

Oh, come on now, grizzly, be nice.

Oh, well, I didn't wear these dancing
shoes for nothing, hon.

So what's it gonna be mate, hmm?

You a rabbit?

Or a pussy?

All right, enough.

Oh.

You're either gonna let me out,
or I'm gonna make you let me.

Look at this, doll, huh?

Looks like me and Rabbit
are gonna dance.

What, we gonna do the waltz?

We're gonna have a little bloody melee.

Give it everything you got, mate.

Hi.

Hi.

So this is your place?

I own it, yeah.

You bought this apartment?

Yeah, I did.

And the entire building around it.

How?

Word on the street
is you're poor on purpose.

It's kind of a long story.

Okay.

Care to elaborate?

Mukul and I took an oath of secrecy.

Why didn't you write?

Why did you leave?

You should wash this blood off.

Pamela Corbett-Ragsdale,

a former research and development
executive for Rathcart Computers

will be sitting down with our own
Alan Gregory tomorrow night

in an exclusive live interview.

Corbett-Ragsdale will be discussing

the alleged internal memos
circulated within Rathcart Corporation

requiring employees
of Rathcart Computers

to sign a non-disclosure agreement

concerning a secretive program

called "Info Net."

Up next, murder mystery.
That story, coming up next.

When a desperate
William Rathcart came to Terrence Uberahl

asking him to handle his potentially
devastating whistleblower problem,

Terrence was elated,
certain that a job well done

was his ticket to securing
Mary's hand in marriage.

So he made arrangements with the best
contract killer in the business.

What's the status
on Corbett-Ragsdale?

She checked into the Plaza
this morning, sir.

- And?
- And you have nothing to worry about.

I'm loyal to you, William,
and to the corporation.

I feel very much like part of the family.

Well, your father and I
were like brothers. You're like a son.

My sentiments exactly.

What if I could be...
more than like a son?

Mary and I became very close

while I was keeping an eye on her
for you in Paris.

I recall you blew your cover,
put yourself at her mercy.

I took my job of protecting her
very seriously

and I'd like to continue protecting her.

Yeah? In what capacity?

As her husband.

I proposed last night, sir.

If you approve, of course.

I'll make you a deal.

You take care of my problem,
I'll grant you my daughter's hand.

Just one thing.

Not with Ragsdale, sir, with Mary.

I put a few of my men on her
just to be safe

and they informed me that
she spent the night last night

with... Benjamin Gibbon.

- I thought you said you proposed to her.
- I did.

She just hasn't said "yes" yet,
hence the problem.

How would you like me to proceed?

How about you stop being a pussy
and just put the fear of God in him?

Yes, sir.

Mary said goodbye. Seems nice.

Don't look at me like that.

Time to go.

You don't want to be late
for your mom's brunch, hmm?

Ahem.

Mary Rathcart?

Ben Gibbon.

Do I need to explain to you
why this is unacceptable?

Who told you that?

We've always had
such high hopes for you.

But you continually disappoint us.

- I'm sorry, I don't mean to continue...
- To what, Mary?

Help the boy's father drag my fucking name
through the mud?

I'm not sure he needs my help.

My God, you need a leash.

- William.
- Ah!

The Rathcarts have been running
their empire

like a criminal organization
for generations,

but this Rathcart scandal
is a unique opportunity.

It's my chance to end it.

But how can do I that

when my son is photographed
cavorting with the man's daughter?

That drags us into it.

It clouds the issue,
just when I need things to be...

Sorry, Dad. I'm listening.

...crystal clear.

Thank God Terrence is so willing
to take you off our hands.

- He is?
- Of course he is.

He's a rabid dog Dad won't call off.

But I thought the two of you
were... friends in Paris.

As much as you can be friends
with a fucking stalker.

Keep your friends close
and your enemies closer, right, Dad?

I love the choice of music, Mrs. Gibbon.

Thank you, Mukul.

Do you guys know
what Beethoven's last words were?

"Plaudite, amici, comedia finita est."

"Friends, applaud.

The comedy is finished."

Goddamn it! I've had enough!

All you had to do was play ball

and all of this would have been yours.

I appreciate the offer, Dad,
but I'd rather play with my own balls.

And what will you do when whatever it is
you're living on runs out, hmm?

Please, enlighten us.

You know, I've been really putting
a lot of thought into it.

Glad you ask.

Fishing.

I think I'll be a fisherman.

And Mukul here will
be my first mate, right?

He takes after you. You know that?

This family needs to present
a unified front and we need a distraction.

So I should marry a man I don't love?

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Your entire life, you have lived
off the spoils of your bloodline.

Yes, now comes the reckoning!

So for once you will do as I say!

I worked my entire life
to build my reputation

and I am entirely unwilling to let you
and your Rasputin ruin it.

No, no, no, no, no. Mukul is my
very good friend and our guest.

Leave him out of this.

Don't you think we're taking this
a bit far, boys?

You fight, you steal,
you drink, you're a disgrace.

Do you hear me?

Henry.

Do you hear me?

I hear you.

Your name may be Gibbon...

- And?
- And it's bullshit.

...but you're not fit for this family.

And I'm not putting up with it.

- Hey!
- You wanna act like a goddamn animal?

There is your cage!

Okay.

Benjamin.

You're excused.

Sorry, Mom.

I am. I'm sorry.

Go.

Just go, Ben.

I apologize if I played any part

in ruining your lovely Mother's Day
celebration, Mrs. Gibbon.

Hmm.

Mm-hmm.

Later that night,
alone in their respective rooms,

Mary and Ben found themselves doing
what many of us tend to do

when we're feeling forlorn.

They were contemplating
the events of the past...

the precious highs,
the devastating lows,

and the choices they had made
or failed to make in between,

all of which, when added up,
had led them right here...

to this very moment.

They felt haunted by a suspicion

that history was somehow repeating itself.

And so each in their own way,

they resolved to throw caution to the wind

and do something quite different
this time around.

Shh, shh! Hey, hey, hey.

- Shh, shh!
- What are you doing here?

Why are you always leaving, huh?

What?

I don't know.
I... I can't be here anymore.

Mary, we're at the age where it's
pretty much time to conform or die.

We grew up thinking
we're gonna be something special

and do something heroic
with our lives, you know,

and they let us live in that fantasy
for 20-something years.

And then what?

We're just supposed to surrender
and grow up, live with the heartbreak

that our lives were never meant to be
as great as we thought they'd be.

Honestly, I'd rather die.

What if there's another way?

What if greatness for me...

is loving you?

Loving you perfectly, and fuck the rest.

I can live with that, you know.

I'm pretty sure
that kind of love never dies.

Mary.

Fuck it.

Fuck it.

You wanna get out of here?

Mary!

We need to talk.

I have an idea, in the interest of this
not being weird.

Let's just start over. You know,
pretend we're complete strangers

and it's the first time we've ever met.

- Like a blind date?
- Yeah, exactly.

Okay, then.

So hi, I'm Mary.

Oh, you're really excited to meet me.

Hi. Hi. Hi, I'm Mary.

Yeah, okay, great.
Mary, hi, I'm Ben.

- Hi.
- Pleasure to meet you.

Pleasure's all mine.

Now what?

- Do you know who Ken Kesey is?
- Of course.

You know, he had this thing where he
always talked about making this movie,

like he was living his life
making this movie.

I always liked that.
I always thought of my life that way.

So am I in your movie now?

You've always been in my movie.

You better watch out.

I studied acting, so I'm gonna be
the star of your movie.

- Hmm.
- But I'm really, really bad at crying.

There was, like, a whole class on how
to cry on command

and I could never do it. Never.

All right. Well, we're gonna need
some backstory.

- Um, may I ask you a personal question?
- Sure.

Who was the guy you
were with last night?

I wasn't with a guy.
He works for my dad.

When I was in Paris,

my dad sent him to keep an eye on me
and I wasn't supposed to know.

And then one morning,
I was having breakfast in a caf�

and he just sat down
across from me and said...

Good morning, Mary.

I've weighed out my options
before sitting down with you.

They were three in number.

One, maintain the status quo
and keep my distance.

Two, pretend to be a stranger
and take it from there.

Three, just come right out
and hope for the best.

And that being said,
I simply can no longer keep my distance.

And honesty is usually the best policy,

so I've decided to go with option three.

That's fascinating.

Mostly, though, I'm wondering who you are,
what you want from me,

and why I shouldn't take this knife
and put it in your fucking eye?

My name is Terrence Uberahl.

And I work for your father,

Mr. William Rathcart.

He has stationed me here
as an invisible agent, so to speak.

I've been charged more precisely
with keeping an eye on you

and stepping in if you were
to invite undue trouble.

Why doesn't that surprise me?

You know, wouldn't it be so much more...

profitable if I were to come clean
and reveal myself to you?

I mean, after all,
lurking in the background

pales in comparison to being included.

Included?

Well, what I mean is,

you know, I could complete my mission

and report all the details of your comings
and goings to your father or...

you and I could become in cahoots.

And all he'd have to hear is
a bare and unexciting minimum.

And you know, all I'd ask in return
is for you to grace me with your company,

only when you have time, of course.

So you're a double agent, are you?

Mademoiselle, I am merely an agent.

Of what, I have no idea.

I haven't been able to shake him since.

It was kind of like
giving scraps to a stray.

He proposed to me last night with a ring.

Like, he actually went out
and he bought a ring,

which means he thought
that I actually might say yes,

which means he's not
just a little off-kilter like I thought.

He's actually... He's insane.
And my dad wants me to say yes.

But I always knew
that he was fucking nuts.

So, here I am.

Hey, you're bleeding.

- Oh.
- Here.

- Oh. No, no, no, it's fine.
- Let me see.

Turn it off. Turn it off!

Just... Man, turn it off!

Just go. Go, go.

We're gonna piss a lot of people off.

To hell with them.

Meanwhile, Terrence Uberahl's
hitman, Wayne McCarty,

who had instructed Terrence
to leave his payment

in a bathroom stall at Club Wildlife
the night before,

was making a detour with his wife Barbie

en route to killing
Pamela Corbett-Ragsdale.

Hey. You got this, baby.

I'll be right here, cheering you on.

I'm so ashamed.

I feel like a bloody criminal.

You're no criminal.

You're just a guy with a big heart

and an even bigger personality.

Remember, serenity is not
the absence of conflict...

But the ability to cope with it.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

We slipped.

This is part of making it right.
You know it.

Yeah, I know it.

Mm-hmm,
so you just go on in there

and give that boy back his wallet
and tell him you're sorry.

You're a strong man, Wayne McCarty.

Yeah.
That's why I love you.

Now, go be strong.

I don't deserve you, baby.

I don't deserve you.

Okay.

Oh!

Mate, hey, you know, you shouldn't
leave your door open like that.

Geez, any weirdo
could just walk in on you.

Oh, hey, guys.

I'm looking for, uh, Rabbit.

Who the fuck are you, man?

I'm the guy looking for Rabbit.
Who the fuck are you?

We're looking for Ben Gibbon.

Ben is Rabbit. See? We're looking
for the same person, okay?

So relax, I'm friends with him.
You guys friends with him?

Didn't think so.
Look, let's start again.

My name's...

Oh...

Good hit, buddy.

Good hit. Stop, stop, stop, stop.

Oh.

S...

Stop. Time out. Time out. Stop.

We're all looking for Ben.
You hear that?

Oh, look, he's pulling up
right now, guys. Look at...

Fucking start the car!

Oh, shit.

Hey!

Bye, guys!

- Hey!
- Come on!

Benji, you here?

Oh.

- Hey. Mukul.
- Hey.

Uh, you... you've met Mary.

- Hi. Hi, again.
- Hello, there.

Um, I'm gonna go dry off.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

She's sweet.

- You good?
- Yeah.

- So all bong gone?
- Yeah.

What?

So nothing weird or unusual to report?

- No.
- No one weird?

- No.
- Okay.

- Why?
- Just...

- You good?
- Yeah.

Just keep your guard up. Hmm?

You worry too much, brother. I love you.

- Love you.
- Today is a great day!

Just...

Oh...

Nice coat. Where'd you get it?

A gift from me to you. Take it.

You're too kind, really.

All these people are dead.

Turn around.

Turn around.

Okay.

Stop looking at me like that.
You're making me shy.

Oh, cool.

Hmm.

I still think about going away
to one of these places.

Just starting a totally new life
where no one knows me.

Totally anonymous.

Well, that sounds nice, doesn't it?

No, it's stupid, childish.

- Childish, maybe. Not stupid.
- Yeah.

Well, I tried it. It didn't exactly
pan out, so...

Mm. No, you didn't.

You bailed on it.

You... You kept yours?

- You didn't?
- I used mine.

You left, so I went on my own.

I didn't leave. I was sent.

Oh.

It's a pretty crazy idea
for a couple of kids.

Yeah.

- Do you have a death wish?
- What?

Why would you ask that?

I don't know. I'm just curious.

Curious about what?

Do you wanna die?

- Didn't realize I had a choice.
- I'm being serious.

When you think about dying,

is it something that excites you?

I don't know.

Who's this?

- That's my mom.
- My God.

- She was a badass.
- Yeah.

Married my dad young.

May I?

Be my guest.

Thanks.

Why would a guy like you wanna die?

- I never said I did.
- You didn't say you didn't.

What does it feel like
to get punched in the face?

Um, I don't know. It hurts.

Yeah?

You like that or something?

Punch me in the face.

- What? No.
- I wanna know what it feels like.

- I'm not gonna punch you in the face.
- I give you full permission.

Just punch me,
like, right in the kisser. Do it.

- What?
- Come on! A girl never gets a chance.

- No, no.
- Do it!

- Uh, I'm... I'm not...
- Just do it!

Do it or I'll punch you in the face.

- Oh, really?
- Yeah, do it.

On the count of three, all right?

One, two...

I will do it.

- Three.
- All right.

That was a good one.

- What are you doing?
- I told you to punch me in the face.

- I'm not gonna punch you.
- I told you to!

- I'm not... I'm not gonna...
- I told you to punch me.

Uh, Mary, please.
Hey, Mary, stop.

Why was it so easy for you to move on?

Mary, it wasn't easy. It fucking sucked.

- So why didn't you miss me?
- I did miss you!

Why didn't you write me back?

- Back?
- I wrote you!

Mary, I never got any letters!

- What?
- I never got any letters.

I promise. I swear.

Oh, my God.

I'm so... Oh, my God.

It's okay. Hey, hey, hey.

My dad, Terrence, they stole
all that time from us.

Hey.

We're here right now
and that's all that matters.

- Hmm?
- I'm sorry.

- I'm sorry.
- No, no.

Hey.

- Hello.
- Hello.

Yeah, hello.

Who is this?

I think you have this phone call thing
backwards. You called me.

I'm looking for Mary.

Is everything copacetic over there?

Right as rain, friend.

I'm not your friend.

No? Then why'd you call me?

I'm gonna call you Pinocchio.

And why's that?

He was nosy.

If it's true
that Rathcart Computers were wired

to monitor the activity of high-profile
customers through their built-in cameras,

that could very well be the straw

that finally breaks the back
of the Rathcart Corporation.

We go live now
to a GBN breaking news exclusive.

Multiple shots fired
near the financial district.

Reports of a deadly car crash.

We've got more on this story

and continuing coverage
of the Rathcart scandal as it develops.

Oh, sh...

Wake up, angel. Wake up.

Shh, shh.

Mm.

Hi.

So what do we do now?

Let's get out of here.

Sure. Where?

No, I mean out of this city.

Let's just get out of here,
away from everything and everyone.

- Let's go.
- Where would we go?

You know, I still like Mexico.

All the fugitives go to Mexico.

Mm-hmm.

- We really could. We could, couldn't we?
- Yeah.

We can buy a little spot
on the beach.

Just lay around in the sun
till we're old and gray.

- And I'll become a fisherman.
- And I'll open a snack stand.

And I'll sell fish tacos to tourists.

He'll try to stop us, you know.

- Let him try.
- Yeah.

Well, you don't know my father.

And you don't know Terrence Uberahl.
He will come looking for me.

- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.

- Then I'll protect you.
- And I'll protect you.

For how long?

For as long as you want me to.

How about forever?

Mary Rathcart.

Yes?

I'm sick of waiting for my life to start.

I'm sick of trying so hard
to feel something.

And you coming back
made me realize I...

I just wanna be...

Happy.

Yeah.

When?

There's no time like the present.

Have a seat.

You're a lot more colorful
than I expected.

Look, I, um, I came here today
as a professional courtesy.

This is me being professional,
and there's your courtesy.

And I just wanna get
straight to the point here, mate.

Look, you contracted me to do a job,

you paid in full upfront,
just like I instructed you to do.

Circumstances have changed

such that they no longer permit me
to carry out the said job.

So therefore, here I am
to willingly return my compensation.

Whoa, what?

I'm not gonna kill
Pamela Corbett-Ragsdale.

Your cash is in the bag.

You can chalk it up
to a recent personal tragedy.

Now, I've got a new, more pressing job.

- Hey, if it's about the money...
- It's not about the money, mate.

There is an angel up there...

waiting at the gates of Heaven,

and the password for her entrance
is "revenge."

Hey, listen, if Corbett-Ragsdale makes it
to that interview today,

there are some very powerful people
that will be awfully upset.

I get that, mate.

But I'm pretty fucking upset myself
at the moment.

And that is why I came here in person,
which I never do,

to give you enough time
to make other arrangements.

Oh, enough time! Enough time!

You've wasted all the time we had!

Fuck!

In the brief duration of your employment,

you have been privy
to some very incriminating information

and that presents me with an issue.

Don't go wasting your time
making idle threats there, lollipop.

I've been in the bloody blood business

since you were handing out
handjobs at Hanson concerts.

So I know better than you.

Loose lips sink ships.

You won't have no problem from me.

You've got my word.

Now, if you'll please excuse me,

I'm gonna catch a love story
at the local cinema.

And then I'm gonna track down
a pair of lady Killers.

What's the name of that painting
you got there on the wall?

- Fuck you.
- Mm. Good name.

Gibbon, that son of a bitch,
must have gotten to him.

Follow the didgeridoo.
Take care of him.

You find Mary and that Gibbon kid.

I wanna talk to them personally.

I think we may have
just lost the medicine for our little bug.

- What's plan B?
- Plan B?

Yeah.

There is no plan B.

I thought I told you to hire the best.
Who the fuck is this guy?

No, he came highly recommended.

- I wasn't anticipating, sir...
- Terrence, listen to me.

- Yes.
- Listen to me.

I am sick of excuses, all right?

- I am sick of them.
- Yes, sir.

- Figure this out now.
- I'll handle it myself.

While... While I have you,

I seem to have lost track
of Mary during all this.

I'm beginning to worry and I was hoping
that maybe you had a chance to...

- Terrence, stop.
- Maybe you had a chance to...

Terrence, how about you stop
worrying about my daughter

and focus on silencing Corbett-Ragsdale?

You know where she is. Now, get it done.

- I'm coming in.
- Of course.

I bet your speech was swell.

Did you tell them that funny story
you told me yesterday?

No.

I didn't think of it.
All I could think of was my...

Fatal errors have
a way of compounding,

and Terrence Uberahl's
previous mistakes

were about to inspire yet another.

...told them that I used
your money, all of it,

to buy furniture for this apartment.

That's silly. Your money, my money.

What difference does it make?
It wasn't very much anyway.

Maybe I could have told them
the baby has to sleep in the dining room.

It's only temporary
till we get another apartment.

You ever seen this movie? Huh?

It was my Barbie's favorite movie!

Speak up.
Stand right up to Doolittle.

Don't ask for your rights.
Demand them.

Remember the day in
Boston when I got you this ring...

Well, I don't
want a better one later.

...one with the diamonds.

That can wait.

Yeah, well, I suppose
the mink coat can wait too.

Why can't you be
a good soldier, huh?

Huh?!

Miss Corbett-Ragsdale? I'm
your security detail, here to escort you.

Hello? Miss Corbett-Ragsdale?

Miss Co...

Hello? Ben?

Is it love?

- Yes.
- Yes.

- True love?
- Is there any other kind?

How do you know?

I've always known.

Yeah, me, too.

When you're young,
you know everything.

Try not to forget.

Have you thought about the fallout?
It's not gonna be pretty.

Don't you think that family rivalries
are a little pass�?

It is going
to take some heavy lifting

to get our families
together on a wedding.

- No big wedding.
- No families, no.

Just thinking about doing a good
old-fashioned shotgun variety, right?

Yeah. Yeah.

What, today?

- Yeah.
- Mm-hmm.

Benjamin, would you deny your mother
a proper wedding for her only child?

At the very least, a girl needs a dress
on her wedding day.

- My son needs a tuxedo.
- Mom...

- She's wearing a fucking dress.
- Okay, Mrs. Gibbon.

I'll wear a dress.

I guess you should get
used to calling me "Mom."

What about your mother?

No. No, she wouldn't come anyway.

Mom, you're the only one
that can know about this.

But you need a wedding party.

Don't you have
anyone else you can call?

Um...

- Okay.
- I know. It's so exciting.

Well, I'm hoping
that we have time to do that

- before everything gets comp...
- Well, wait, wait, wait.

Well, what...

Well?

Thank you for the dress, Mrs. Gibbon.

It's my pleasure.

Excuse me for a moment.

Please leave
a message after the tone.

Hi, Beatrice. It's Nancy Gibbon calling.

Your daughter and my son
are getting married today,

at the church on St. Peter's Street, 5:00,

and I know that it would mean a lot to her
if her mother was there.

It's time to leave
this bad blood behind us.

What do you want?

What do you know about the wedding?

What wedding?

Mary and the Gibbon kid,
they're getting married today.

What did you say?

They're getting married. Today.

Oh, fuck me!

- It's me.
- What do you want?

You're all I ever wanted.

From the moment I laid eyes on you,
it's always been about you.

I mean, I waited. I bided time.

I knew that you needed convincing.
I knew that.

But listen,

I think I might have gotten myself
into a little bit of hot water here.

I think my big city days are done.

I'm skipping town, babe,
and you're coming with me.

- Terrence...
- I need you to understand something.

If you would just give me a chance,

I can make you so happy.

Okay.

Okay.

I've been wanting to tell you something,

but I don't wanna ruin the mood.

Someone called last night.

A guy. Looking for Mary.

He was...

troubling.

Are you sure
this is a good idea?

Do you remember the first time we met?
Remember what you called it?

Fate.

By way of random chaos.

I'm just letting what's meant to be, be.

Hey.

You're not supposed to see me
in my dress. It's bad luck.

I'll take my chances.
You look so beautiful.

It's the moment of truth.
Are you sure you wanna do this?

- I'm sure. Are you?
- I'm positive.

What's the worst thing
that could happen?

- William.
- Terrence.

Thank God. Where are you?

- You knew about this, didn't you?
- Slow down.

- Huh? The wedding!
- I don't know what you're talking about.

- Mary and the Gibbon kid?
- I swear.

St. Peter's Street.
Why did you let this happen?

- I had no idea.
- I'm going down there.

I'm gonna find that son of a bitch!

I don't think you wanna do that, Terrence.

- Too late!
- Listen to me. We can figure this out.

Terre... Hello.

Terrence? Terrence?

- Where is that rat-fuck headed?
- A chapel downtown.

My daughter's getting married.

Aw.

Well, let's go.

You're taking me with you?

It's your baby girl's wedding.

Here we are, guys.

I prepared a little something.

Welcome to this beautiful union
between these two people...

in this beautiful space, together.

Thank you.

Stunning, both of you.

In the Judeo-Christian Creation myth,

Adam and Eve are banished from the Garden

for disobeying God's sacred laws.

But I invite you to consider,

while they knew nothing
but beauty in the Garden,

they did not know love

until they were forced to face

the ugliness
of the outside world together.

They clung to each other
in the face of a vicious world,

and, in so doing,
gave birth to love itself.

Terrence.

Hello, Mary.

You don't wanna do this.

Nobody move.

You broke my heart.

- Terrence...
- I protected you.

Just put the gun down.
It's not too late.

It was always too late!

Huh?

- Terrence!
- No!

- You.
- No! No!

Hey! Hey!

- Ben! Ben!
- No, no.

It was always about you.

I had to listen to her sob stories
about you over and over and over again.

I was fucking sick of you
before I even met you.

- Yeah.
- No.

Back up! Back up!

- Terrence, please!
- Stay back!

Please! Please.

- Shh...
- Stop! Stop.

No.

Don't hurt him! Don't hurt him!

Ben!

Ben!

Don't you know the penalty for hunting
in the King's forest is death?

You call this a man, huh?

Look at me. I'm a man.

Give me that.

Give me the gun.

Wayne?

Rabbit?

You got your wallet. Right? Eh?

What?

All right, could everybody
please sit down? Come on.

Come on, now. Chop chop.

Not on the floor, ladies.
You'll ruin your bloody dresses.

Sit in the pews.

Come on.

Including you, sunshine.

I'll take it from here.

Yeah, yeah, sit, sit. Good boy.

- Is this your wedding?
- Yeah.

Congratulations, mate.

Hey. What are you doing here?

Well, as fate would have it,

I reckon we got ourselves
a common enemy.

Let him up.

Get up.

I'm not gonna let you ruin
this love story.

All right.

Ladies, you might wanna look away.

This is for my angel.

Oh, shit.

Hey, hey, hey, hey! Freeze!

Keep your eyes on the prize, Rabbit.

Put the gun down!

Put the gun down, Terrence.

Mary.

C'est la vie.

- No!
- No!

No!

For Ben, the moment
lasted a lifetime.

But his life didn't
flash before his eyes.

Instead, his mind traveled to the memory
of a childhood toy,

a red View-Master he received
for his fifth birthday.

As a boy, Ben spent hours flipping
through pictures of miraculous things

and momentous periods
of human history.

Though too young
to understand it at the time,

Ben was struck
by the seemingly impossible fact

that these were images of real things

and that they were all mere specks
of a cataclysmically immense reality

he could never fully grasp or even accept.

He remembered feeling weightless.

He had contemplated
this moment many times.

He had dreamt up countless scenarios.

He had imagined many good deaths.

But he couldn't remember any of them now.

Instead, he thought of Mary.

Hey.

Ben. Ben!

Hey, hey.

Hey.

Hey.

Stay with me. Ben.

I didn't get to say, "I do."

I do, too.

Ben had always imagined
that, in some shape or form,

it would end right here.

He would have gone down in history
as an incorrigible rascal

just not meant for this world.

Death makes for good punctuation,

and his was supposed
to be a perfect example...

a romantic hero who lived fast,
died young, and left a beautiful corpse.

But it doesn't end that way.

Like it or not, and for reasons none of us
will ever understand,

sometimes fate decides to step in

and stick us with a happy ending.

Provided by explosiveskull
https://twitter.com/kaboomskull