All language subtitles for jhfdfsa

Remember when they let airlines
land in this town?

Yeah. Well, I don't understand
where we're going...

...or why we're bothering anyhow.

- You're doing a good deed.
- Wanna give us a better reason?

A maniac hijacked a municipal bus
with 30 passengers on it.

I got a hunch where those passengers are
and who that maniac is.

You wanna share it with us?

Phoenix. Simon Phoenix.

Send a maniac to catch one.

Phoenix!

Don't move, Phoenix.

You're under arrest.

Ha-ha-ha. Arrest? Shit.

And you're trespassing.

Where are the passengers?

Oh, yes, the passengers.

Well, they're, uh....

Fuck you.

The passengers are gone. Ha-ha-ha.

See, I told the city, I said,
"Look, nobody comes down here."

Postmen figured it out...

...policemen figured it out.

But the goddamn bus drivers
just wouldn't listen.

Last time, Phoenix.

Where are the hostages?

To hell with the hostages.
This is between you and me.

- Yeah.
- What? What?

What you got, soldier boy?
Do something.

Go ahead. Ha-ha-ha.

You're up to your ass in gasoline.

Set your ass on fire.

Is it cold in here?

Or is it just me?

Where are they, Phoenix?

Now, where did I put them? Ha.

I swear, I'd lose my head
if it wasn't attached.

I'll keep that in mind.

Damn it, John,
I'm tired of this Demolition Man shit.

You were not supposed
to come down here.

You were not supposed to attempt
the arrest of Phoenix singlehanded...

...or blow anything up!

It's not me. He dumped the gas
and rigged the place to blow.

You had nothing to do with it.

I know you've tried to nail
this psycho for two years.

But try remembering a thing called
official police procedure.

- Where are the hostages?
- Not here.

- What do you mean?
- He must've stashed them someplace else.

Are you sure they weren't in there?

I did a thermo check and there was
eight of them, all part of his gang.

Wrong again!

- You got something to say?
- Ha-ha-ha.

- Get him out of here.
- Let's go.

Oh, you motherfucker.

You and I are gonna have
a nice long chat.

Captain! Captain!

Over here. There are bodies everywhere.

There must be 20 or 30.

They're everywhere.

See that? I told him.
He said he didn't care.

Oh, my God! How could you sacrifice
all those innocent people for little old me?

What kind of man are you?

We'll spend a lot of quality time together.
See you, sweetie!

Honey! Sugar!

You got a lawyer, you better call him.

John Spartan, you've done
great deeds for the city of Los Angeles.

So it is with some regret that I,
William Smithers...

...acting as assistant warden,
hereby carry out this sentence.

Skip it.

You've been sentenced to...

...70 years' sub-zero rehabilitation
in the California Cryo-Penitentiary...

...for the involuntary manslaughter
of 30 innocent civilians.

Skip it.

You'll be placed in cryostasis
for the duration of your sentence...

...during which your behavior will be altered
through synaptic suggestion.

You'll be eligible for parole no earlier
than the year 2046.

I'm sorry, sergeant.

All personnel...

...the next scheduled parole hearing
for prisoner Gilmour...

...will take place at 0715.

Warden William Smithers,
report to Level A conference room.

Mellow greetings,
Warden William Smithers.

Be well, Lieutenant Lenina Huxley.

As it is a beautiful Monday morning...

...and as my duty log irrationally
requires it...

...I'm hereby querying you
on the prison population update.

Does the tedium continue?

Your questioning is as amusing
as it is irrelevant.

The prisoners are ice cubes.
They never move.

I find this lack of stimulus
to be truly disappointing.

- Don't you think?
- I try not to.

However, you're young.
Think all you want.

Things don't happen anymore.
We've taken care of all that.

I'll Fiber Op you back
after the parole hearings.

Have a peachy day, lieutenant. Be well.

Be well.

Vector 137.

Upcoming, Santa Monica Boulevard.

Retina coding accepted,
Warden William Smithers. Be well.

Go on.

- Self-drive on.
- Self-drive engaged.

Huxley, Lenina coding on.

No police presence
is requested in the city at this time.

Report to the station.

Oh, boy, how exciting.

That's it.

Food, glorious food.
There'll be another one in 12 hours.

These assholes are nothing
if not predictable.

God, I love to hate this place.

- There's not enough of us, Friendly.
- That doesn't really matter anymore.

People are hungry.

We got nothing left to lose.

Greetings, Erwin.

Lovely Lenina.

Greetings, welcome to the emergency line
of the San Angeles Police Department.

If you'd prefer an automated response,
press 1 now.

Be well, lieutenant.

Mellow greetings, Lenina Huxley.

Let me guess, all is serene?

On the contrary,
it's been a horrific a.m.

Public buildings were defaced.

Walls smudged with...

...scandalous graffiti.

Really?

Brutal. Why wasn't there
an all-cars notified?

Because there was no need
to create widespread panic.

Lieutenant Huxley...

...I monitored your disheartening
and distressing comments...

...to the warden this morning.

Do you really long for
chaos and disharmony?

Your fascination with the 20th century
seems to be affecting your judgment.

You realize you're setting a bad example
for other officers and personnel.

Thank you for the attitude readjustment,
Chief Earle.

Info assimilated.

Sanctimonious asshole.

Lenina Huxley,
you are fined one half credit...

...for a sotto voce violation
of the verbal morality statute.

Thank you.

Phew, that was tense.

- That was tense?
- Yes.

Tell me, Garcia...

...don't you get bored code-tracing perps
who break curfew and tell dirty jokes?

No, I find my job deeply fulfilling.

I just cannot get over the reality
of this office, Lenina Huxley.

You're still addicted
to the 20th century.

High from its harshness.
Buzzed by its brutality.

Holy smokes!

Is there anything in this office which
doesn't violate Contraband Ordinance 22?

Only you, Alfredo Garcia.

Don't you ever want
something to happen?

Goodness, no.

I knew you were gonna say that.

What I wouldn't give for some action.

Mr. Simon Phoenix.

One of our first and most
illustrious members.

Allow me to welcome you
to your parole hearing.

Let's get this one over quick.

Twenty-nine years ago,
the parole system as you know it--

--was rendered obsolete.

Federal Statute 537-29--

Stop it!

Do you have anything fresh
to say on your behalf?

I thought not.

Yeah, I do.

Teddy bear.

How'd you know the password
to the cuffs?

I wish I knew.

Simon says, die.

Yoo-hoo!

Warden...

...let's get this over quickly.

Retina coding accepted,
Warden William Smithers.

Be well.

Yeah, you too.

187. 187.

Northwest quadrant. 187.

Oh, my. Oh, my.

I don't believe it.

Northwest quadrant. 187.

What's a 187?

I don't know.

Cryoprison. Level 6.

Identify code 187.

MDK.

MurderDeathKill.

MurderDeathKill.

Last recorded offense,
September 25, 2010.

Initiate search, confirming location.

Cryoprison, Level 6.

Two code 187s.
Officer Jean Desjardins, guard.

Officer Alfred Pamela, guard.

Tracking. Live transmission diagnostic
check, Warden William Smithers.

Injuries: severe eye trauma,
ruptured spleen...

...punctured lung...

...broken rib, internal bleeding.

Condition critical.

Vital signs failing.

Imminent death.

Subject deceased.

187, Warden William Smithers.

Born February 14th, 1967...

...died August 4th, 2032.

- What's the matter with all of you?
- The cryoprison.

Three non-sanctioned life terminations.

Do you wish to assign a coroner?

MurderDeathKills?

Three MDKs?

Access the cryopen's hearing schedule.

Display a list of people
interviewed for parole.

Accessing cryoprison
processing. Restricted information.

Cocteau Cryoprison,
morning hearing schedule.

August 4th, active file.

Seven a.m., Hyde, Quentin.

Eight-fifteen, Peterson, Scott.

- Seven-thirty, Phoenix, Simon.
- It's Phoenix.

- Who?
- Simon Phoenix.

- Phoenix, Simon. Accessing.
- I knew him.

He's evil in a way
you've never read about.

He's a criminal the likes of which
you have never seen.

Hold that thought, Zachary Lamb.

Simon Phoenix's code, now.

Access code for Phoenix, Simon.

- No code found.
- L-7, are you getting another virus?

- Of course not.
- You don't get it, Huxley.

Phoenix isn't coded.

He was chilled back in the 20th...

...before they started
LoJacking everybody.

Declared his own kingdom
in South Central L.A.

- In a bad time, he was the worst.
- Emergency, code 187.

Emergency, code 187.

Locating stopped code.

MurderDeathKill. MurderDeathKill.

Location, cryoprison parking area.
Cryoprison, Level 6.

- No.
- Main cryoprison parking zone.

Enhancing image.

- Tracking Dr. Mostow.
- Oh, my.

187, deceased.

Do you wish to assign a coroner?

L-7, is the doctor's conveyance
still in the parking zone?

The answer is no. Car missing.

Doctor's conveyance is not
in parking zone. It is in motion.

Locate precise code-fix
on doctor's conveyance.

Fixing location. Beverly Hills.

Robertson.

- Doheny.
- Yes.

Beverly Drive.

Doctor's vehicle has been code-fixed.

Approaching the corner of Wilshire
and Santa Monica Boulevard.

Glorious. Heh, heh.

Ah, fine work.

All nearby units, ProtectServe,
Wilshire and Santa Monica.

- Unit 12 ProtectServe.
- Apprehend fugitive.

Proceed with extreme assertiveness.

Doctor's vehicle has been code-fixed.

Approaching the corner of Wilshire
and Santa Monica Boulevard.

Lately I just don't feel like
there's anything special about me.

You are an incredibly sensitive man...

...who inspires joy-joy feelings
in all those around you.

- Get out of here.
- Excuse me, citizen.

I'm sorry.

Greetings, citizen.
How are you on this glorious day?

You look great today!

Ha-ha-ha. Yeah, well, I feel good too.

Angeles Information Network.
Automated banking. City of San Angeles.

Damn, I'm possessed.

Wonder if I can play the accordion too.

File code accepted.

Friendly, Edgar. Code level 60.

Listed offenses: civil unrest....

Don't you hear a thought repeating
in that brain of yours?

The name Friendly, Edgar?

Edgar Friendly.

Don't you have a job to do?

Don't you have someone to kill?

Someone to kill.

Someone to kill.

"Gun," noun. Portable firearm.

This device was widely utilized in
the urban wars of the late 20th century.

Referred to as a "pistol--"

I don't need a history lesson, HAL.
Where are the goddamn guns?

You are fined one credit for a
violation of the verbal morality statute.

Fuck you.

Your repeated violation has caused me to
notify the San Angeles Police Department.

Please, remain where you are
for your reprimand.

Yeah, right. Ha.

Fuckers are fast too.

You are fined one credit for violation
of the verbal morality statute.

ProtectServe in place.

Four minutes, 15 seconds lapse.

Maniac is imminent. Request advice.

With a firm tone of voice...

...demand maniac lie down
with hands behind back.

Simon Phoenix!

Lie down with your hands
behind your back!

What's this?

Six of you. And such nice tidy uniforms.

Oh, I'm so scared.

You guys don't have sarcasm anymore?

Maniac has responded
with a scornful remark.

Approach and repeat
ultimatum in an even firmer tone of voice.

Add the words "or else."

Simon Phoenix!

Lie down on the ground...

...or else!

Anti-Graffiti
Activation Program activated.

Aborted. Human presence detected.

Safety override code accepted.

Lucky number seven.

Okay.

Olé!

Did you see that?

We're police officers.

We're not trained to handle
this kind of violence.

Hey, wait for me!

- Go.
- Run away.

Save yourself.

Come on.

Stupid.

Simon says, everybody stay!

And the home of the brave

Play ball!

We've lost every camera for six blocks.

Go to Century City, 1200 millimeters.

He's going for the vehicle's
battery coil.

It's pure capacitance gel.

The problem is not
the defacement of public buildings...

...or the noise pollution caused by
the exploding devices.

Allow me to explain.

The real problem lies
in the man whose initials...

...mark the detonating graffiti...

...on the streets of our peaceful city.

The man behind the E.F.:

Mr. Edgar Friendly.

For a sadly extended period of time...

...we in San Angeles have been plagued by
a pack of subterranean hooligans.

You will come to know them as "scraps."

Men and women who have left
the comfort of our society...

...only to spew hostility at the very bosom
that they have relinquished.

There was a time when we used
to look upon these scraps...

...as rather pathetic
and relatively harmless.

Now they have a leader.

Mr. Friendly seems relentless in his ambition
to infect our harmony with his venom.

He must, of course, be stopped.

This radical terrorist behavior,
led by Mr. Friendly...

...must not be allowed
to undermine our safety.

Safety above all.

I expect your trust,
confidence and certitude.

If you'll excuse me.

Dr. Cocteau, a CryoCon has effected
self-release from the penitentiary.

It's quite horrific.
MurderDeathKills, all categories of chaos.

Enhance your calm. Enhance your--

"Be well" them for me.

Get me Captain George Earle
immediately.

It was just....

I mean, it was so....

How can a man be so blatantly sadistic?

It was fun for him.

I want you to do everything in your power
to snare this agent of destruction.

You have my utmost confidence.

It will be done, Dr. Cocteau.

Be well.

"Utmost confidence."

"Everything in our power."

What else is there?

Zachary Lamb...

...how was the fiendish Simon Phoenix
apprehended back in the 20th?

Twelve-state manhunt.

Satellite surveillance.

A video bite on Unsolved Mysteries.

Heh, none of them worked.

In the end, it took just one man.

One cop.

John Spartan.

John Spartan?

That's right.

They called him the Demolition Man.

Spartan file 98345, L.A.P.D.

Spartan file 98761C, L.A.P.D.

Are you sure this is real life?

Barely.

Spartan is a legend.

I've been doing a historical study.
Over 1000 arrests over three years.

All authentic criminals.

There was a lot more business back then.

How can you justify destroying
a $7-million mini mall...

...to rescue a girl whose ransom
is only $25,000?

Fuck you, lady.

Good answer.

This is your recommendation?

The Demolition Man's an animal.

He's clearly the man for a job such as this.
You could reinstate him.

He's a musclebound grotesque...

...who hasn't worn a shield in 40 years.

Simon Phoenix
is an old-fashioned criminal.

We need an old-fashioned cop.

Cryo plugs 312 and 618 are
vacant and ready for routine inspection.

Transporting cryoprisoner Spartan
to the MTL.

Got it. Okay.

John Spartan, 5864.

Pulmonary activity approaching normal.

Body temperature, 63 percent and rising.

Biolink engaged.

Laser defibrillation sequence started.

Plasma transfer in 15 seconds.

Plasma transfer, 10 seconds...

...eight seconds...

...six seconds....

Plasma transfer complete.

MTL complete.

Hunting down an escaped CryoCon...

...by releasing another one?

I am unconvinced.

This is within the powers of the police.

He can be released on limited parole
and reinstated to active duty.

It's not enough to collect the '90s,
you bring them back?

Dr. Cocteau said
everything within our power.

I can't think of a better idea.

That still doesn't mean it's a good one.

This man comes from a dissimilar
method of law enforcement.

I'm not sure he's any different
than Simon Phoenix himself.

Detective?

Detective, I am Lieutenant Lenina Huxley.

The year is 2032.

- The reason you have been released is--
- How long have I been under?

Thirty-six years.

I had a wife.

What happened to my wife?

Her light was extinguished
in the Big One of 2010.

Um, she died.

In an earthquake.

The earthquake.

I had a daughter.

I made a promise.
What happened to her?

John Spartan,
I am Chief of Police George Earle.

We didn't thaw you out
for a family reunion.

Consider it fortunate the lieutenant
even bothered to do a probe on your wife.

This is about you
and the CryoCon Simon Phoenix.

What?

This morning, Simon Phoenix
escaped from this cryo facility.

We've had 11 MurderDeathKills so far.

You see, we have become
a society of peace...

...loving and understanding...

...and we are, quite frankly,
not equipped to deal with this.

There have been no deaths of unnatural
causes in San Angeles in 16 years.

Where?

The Santa Barbara-Los Angeles-San Diego
Metroplex merged in 2011.

You are in the center of
what used to be Los Angeles.

That's great.

- You, get me a Marlboro.
- Yes, of course. Right away.

What's a Marlboro?

It's a cigarette. Any cigarette.

Uh, smoking is not good for you.

It has been deemed that anything
not good for you is bad.

Hence, illegal.
Alcohol, caffeine, contact sports, meat--

Are you shitting me?

John Spartan,
you are fined one credit...

...for violation
of the verbal morality statute.

What the hell is that?

- You are fined one credit....
- Bad language...

...chocolate, gasoline,
uneducational toys and anything spicy.

Abortion is illegal, but so is pregnancy
if you don't have a license.

Caveman...

...let's finish with all the Rip Van Winkle
and get moving.

A Mr. Phoenix
has risen from the ashes.

Uh-huh. I tracked that dirtbag
for two years...

...and when I finally bring him down,
you turn me into an ice cube for my trouble.

Thanks, but no, thanks.

The conditions of your parole
are full reinstatement into the S.A.P.D...

...and immediate assignment to
the apprehension of Simon Phoenix.

Or...

...you can go back into cryostasis.

Not many people get a second chance,
John Spartan.

- Here you go.
- Will do.

Any new inforama on Simon Phoenix?

There is nothing, Lenina Huxley.

Where's your John Spartan?

He went to the bathroom.
I guess he got all thawed out.

Oh.

Sir, I formally convey my presence.

How you doing?

We are not used to
physical-contact greetings.

Oh, germs.

Look, I don't know if you guys know it...

...but you're out of toilet paper.

Did you say toilet paper?

Oh. They used handfuls of wadded paper
back in the 20th.

I'm happy that you're happy,
but in place of the toilet paper...

...you've got a shelf
with three seashells.

He doesn't know how to use
the three seashells.

I can see how that could be confusing.

I don't believe it. Is that you, Spartan?

No. Zach?

Zach Lamb?

What happened to you?

Ha-ha-ha. I got older.

My God, I remember when you were
a snot-nosed rookie pilot.

They finally grounded me.

Shit, you were a damn good flyer.

You are fined two credits for
violation of the verbal morality statute.

I'll be right back.

They seem to be friends, yet he speaks
to him in the most profane manner.

If you'd read my study, you'd know this is
how insecure heterosexual males bonded.

I knew that.

Thanks a lot, you shit-brained,
fuck-faced, ball-breaking...

- ...duck-fucking pain in the ass.
- You're fined five credits...

...for repeated violations
of the verbal morality statute.

So much for the seashells.

See you in a few minutes.

Waiting for command.
Voice check, Lenina Huxley.

Unfortunately
Simon Phoenix was not coded.

While you were sleeping,
everyone was installed code.

It was a brilliant idea by Dr. Cocteau
that an organic microchip...

...be sewn into the skin.

Sensors all over the city can zero in
on anyone at any time.

I can't even conceive what you
police officers did before it was developed.

We worked for a living.
This fascist crap makes me wanna puke.

What do you think you're scratching,
caveman?

You really think we'd let you go
without control?

Your code was implanted
the second you thawed.

Why not just shove a leash up my ass?

- You dirty meat-eater!
- You are fined....

No matter how Viking your era was...

...I cannot digest how
you ever wore a badge.

You're going back, John Spartan.
Oh, yes, you're going back.

Could you two please
dump some hormones?

We need every cortex we can get here.

We don't need the Neanderthal.

Our computer has already
examined every scenario...

...resulting from the appearance
of Simon Phoenix.

It is determined he'll attempt to set up
a new drug lab and form a crime syndicate.

That is correct, Chief George Earle.

I hate to interrupt you two lovebirds,
but that's really fucking stupid.

You think he wants to start a business?

Phoenix is going for a gun,
plain and simple.

Trust me. He's going for a gun.

Who cares what this primate thinks?

Resonate some understanding.

The only place a person
can even view a gun in this city...

...is at a museum.

Welcome to the San Angeles
Museum of History.

Beneath you,
you will see an excavation...

- ...of an actual 20th-century street scene...
- Hey, hey! All right.

- ...in downtown Los Angeles...
- Now, good.

...preserved since the earthquake
of 2010.

For specific information concerning objects
featured in the exhibit....

Firearms are on display in the Armory.

located on Level A.

You are now entering
the Hall of Violence...

...a visual representation
of the primitive behavior prevalent...

...during the late 20th century.

Home, sweet home.

Ooh.

John Spartan,
even if Simon Phoenix was able...

...to locate the cache of firearms...

...it would be impossible to remove them.

She's right. They're located
in a maximum-security exhibit.

It's just a hunch. So trust me on this.

It's a cop thing.

And what am I, a frog?

- Excuse me.
- Yes?

I'll drive.

I see.

Resetting all bio-links for new driver.

Weight, height, peripheral vision set.

If you would like to commence
transportation, John Spartan...

...initialize sequence now.

You drive.

Welcome, Lieutenant Lenina Huxley.

You seem very much alone,
John Spartan...

...but things aren't all that different.

Perhaps you'd like to hear
an oldies station?

This is the town's most popular station.

Wall-to-wall mini-tunes.
You called them "commercials."

The classic you've been waiting for.

The number one request of the day,
"Armour Hot Dogs."

Yes!

--eat Armour Hot Dogs

Wow. This is my fave.

--skinny kids, kids who climb on rocks

Tall kids, sissy kids

Even kids with chicken pox love hot dogs

Armour Hot Dogs

The dogs kids love to bite

Somebody put me back in the fridge.

You are now entering the armory exhibit.

You will find displayed
in the cabinets and walls...

So sorry. Didn't see you there.

...various weapons used for violent
life termination...

- ...in wars and urban disturbances...
- Sweet baby.

- ...during the 19th and 20th centuries.
- Oh, shit.

You are fined one credit for a violation
of the verbal morality statute.

Yes. Now, this is what I'm talking about.

How do you get in here?

Hey, hey. I gotta wait that 15-day
waiting period, or can I just take one now?

You motherfucker.

Fuck it.

Mellow greetings.
What seems to be your boggle?

My boggle?

How much do you weigh?

Well, I happen to weigh--

Please, vacate the museum, patrons.

Be calm.

Please, vacate the museum, patrons.
Be calm.

Wait a minute. This is the future.

Where are all the phaser guns?

Ah.

Mellow greetings, sir.

What's your boggle?

Please, exit rapidly.

Warning. Please, exit rapidly.

The magnetic accelerator gun...

...the last handheld weapon
of this millennium...

...displaced the flow of neutrons...

...through a nonlinear cycloid
electromagnetic accumulator.

So, what? It needs batteries?

What size? Where the fuck
do you find batteries in the future?

Is there a battery store around?

Excuse me, patron. Can I--?

Where's the Radio Shack?

Whoo! Sweet music to my ears.

When activated,
the magnetic accelerator gun...

...will achieve fusion in 2.6 minutes.

Well, I was thinking about leaving quickly.
Patience is not one of my virtues.

Did you see that?

What?

Never mind. I give up trying
to figure this place out.

Excuse me, Rambo.
I need to borrow this.

Access and correlate procedure.

Establish
communication with maniac intruder.

Wrong.

- Luke Skywalker, use the Force.
- Oh, dear.

- What the hell is this?
- It's a glow-rod. It's what we got.

- Does it work?
- Well, um--

Guess so.

He's trapped in section 8.

I doubt it. Make sure that building's clear.

Done. I want a visual.

Every corridor of the museum.
I want full sensors routed to me...

- ...and I want it 90 seconds ago.
- Hmm.

You guys wait here. Give me 10 minutes.

Patron, you are now
confined to the armory.

Museum patron, you are now
confined to the armory.

The armory exhibit is now sealed.

All museum patrons still occupying
the facility should remain calm.

Help is imminent.

This museum is no longer sealed, is it?

What can I say?
I'm a blast from the past.

You should've stayed there.

That voice sounds familiar. Who is that?

Bad aim, blondie.

Spartan? John Spartan?

Aw, shit, they let anybody into this century.
What are you doing here?

Simon says, bleed!

Great. Just great.

You're making it too easy for me.

Come on, you space-age piece of shit.

Let me get this right.

They defrosted you just so you could lasso
my piddly ass? Damn, you been had.

I've been dreaming about killing you
for 40 years.

Yeah? Well, keep dreaming.

Ooh, wow!

Oh, shit!

Acc-Mag now reactivated.

It's about time.

Past is over, John.
Time for something new and improved.

Oh, hell.

Holy shit! I love this gun! Goddamn!

How do you like me in the future,
John, huh?

Come on, Phoenix. Come on!

That must have hurt.

Huh, soldier boy? Ha-ha-ha.

- You're on TV.
- Oh, shit!

You're dead.

Forgot to say, "Simon says."

Oh, shit.

Good one.

Such a brave new world.
Sorry you gotta go.

Shit.

Our noble facility has been
desecrated by hooligans.

Someone will pay dearly for this.

Sir, the stress breeder is inside
being demobilized as we speak.

Shit. Being frozen
must have thrown my aim off.

Don't worry,
I'll get you with the next shot.

I don't think so.

No kiss-kiss, no bang-bang.

And you were doing so well.

Now, don't you have a job to do? Hmm?

Isn't there a thought repeating
in that barbaric brain of yours?

The name Friendly.

Mr. Edgar Friendly.

Don't you have someone to kill?

- Yeah, I do.
- Excellent.

Then go and do your job.

Phoenix!

Shit. Saved by the bell.

Shit.

Damn.

You're lucky he didn't whack you.

I must say that whacking, whatever it is,
sounds most disagreeable. Heh, heh.

Well, you scared him away.

I don't know how to thank you.
You saved my life.

No problem.

Not bad for a 74-year-old.

Simon Phoenix knows
he has some competition.

He's finally matched his meat.

You really licked his ass.

That's "met his match"
and "kicked his ass."

Met? "Met his match
and kicked his ass."

Captain Earle.

Who is this man?

John Spartan, temporarily reinstated
to the San Angeles Police Department...

...to pursue the CryoCon Simon Phoenix.

You told us to do everything
in our power to capture him.

Oh, yes. Yes, I did. I did.

Yes, I do recall the exploits of
Mr. John Spartan.

Yes. Didn't they call him--?
Yes, of course. The Demolition Man.

It's quite all right, chief.

Unexpected. Creative.

But quite all right.

John Spartan, welcome.

Now, in honor of your arrival and your
protection of the sanctity of human life...

...namely my own, ha, ha...

...I would like to invite you to join me
to dinner tonight.

The both of you.

Please, I insist.

I would like you to accompany me...

...to Taco Bell.

Look forward to it. Thank you.

- Taco Bell?
- Yes.

So let me get this right:

Spacely Sprockets here, who's now
the man in charge, the mayor/gov...

...who wants to take me to dinner
at Taco Bell--

Though I wouldn't mind a burrito.

--also built the goddamn cryoprison?

- John Spartan, you are fined one credit....
- Thanks.

Dr. Cocteau is the most important
man in San Angeles.

He practically created
our whole way of life, savage.

Yeah? Well, he can have it.

Phoenix could be anywhere,
but not being coded could limit him.

Correct. Money is outmoded.
All transactions are through codes.

So he can't buy food
or a place to stay for the night.

It'd be a waste of time to mug somebody.

Unless he rips off someone's hand.

But with all officers patrolling
in a citywide crisis net...

...should be a matter of tick-tocks
before--

More importantly,
we already have a backup plan.

We can just wait
for another code to go red.

When Phoenix performs another
MurderDeathKill...

...we'll know exactly where to pounce.

- Great plan.
- Thank you.

He likes your plan, chief.

I've been an enthusiast of your escapades
for quite some time.

In fact, I perused some newsreels from
the Schwarzenegger Library. That time--

Hold it.

The Schwarzenegger Library?

Yes, the Schwarzenegger
Presidential Library.

Wasn't he an actor when--?

- Stop. He was president?
- Yes.

Even though he wasn't a native,
his popularity caused the 61st Amendment--

I don't want to know.

President.

What the hell is this?
No door? No welcome mat?

What is this?

What kind of people are these?
How do they expect you to kill somebody?

Oh, shit, I love that smell.
Reminds me of biscuits and gravy.

All right. A job is a job.

Edgar Friendly, whoever the fuck you are,
prepare for Simon Phoenix.

So, what's with this Cocteau guy
anyway?

He says I saved his life,
which I'm not sure I did.

My reward is dinner and dancing
at Taco Bell?

I mean, hey, I like Mexican food,
but come on.

Your tone is quasi-facetious,
but you do not realize...

...Taco Bell was the only restaurant
to survive the Franchise Wars.

So?

So now all restaurants are Taco Bell.

No way.

Welcome to Taco Bell.

Enjoy your meal, sir.

Valley of the Jolly Green Giant

Good things from the garden

Garden in the valley
Valley of the Jolly Green Giant

Be well.

I'll take that.

Oh. Here comes the Neanderthal.

Mr. Spartan, over there, please,
and lieutenant....

Thank you. Would you...?

- Yes.
- Hi.

- How are you guys doing?
- Mellow, thank you.

Fine. Yes.

Enjoy-joy your meal, sir.

Good thing I'm hungry.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to ask you
to raise your glasses...

...to the hero of the hour, my savior...

...Detective John Spartan.

John Spartan.

Appreciate it.

Greetings and salutations.

I'm Associate Bob.

We met before, ever so briefly.
I was groveling in fear at the time.

You got the salt over there, Bob?

Um, salt is not good for you,
hence it is ille--

So, John Spartan, tell me...

...what do you think of
San Angeles, 2032?

Considering the way things were going
when I went in...

...I thought the future would be
a writhing cesspool.

You weren't here
when the real disturbances began.

Civilization tried to destroy itself.

The city degenerated
into a total fear zone.

The citizenry at home, afraid to go out.
People just wanted the madness over.

So when I saw the chance
to make things right, I seized it.

If I had not, the radiance of San Angeles
would not be here.

Just your rotting cesspool of hate
and suffering. Which would you prefer?

Can you book me a flight out of here
when the sermon's over?

John Spartan...

...for your crimes, you would surely
have died in jail before now.

Even you must appreciate
the persuasively tranquil humanity...

...of the cryoprison system.

I don't want to spoil your dinner, pal,
but my cryo-sentence was no sweet lullaby.

I had feelings and I had thoughts.

A 36-year nightmare about people
caught in a burning building.

You were awake? I don't think so.

I do think so.

My wife beating her fists against
a block of ice that was her husband.

You were nice enough to wake me up...

...let me know everything that meant
something in my life is gone.

Would have been more humane to stake me
down and leave me to the fucking crows.

What would you say if I called you
a brutish fossil...

...symbolic of a decayed era
gratefully forgotten?

I don't know. "Thanks"?

I thought during rehabilitation,
the prisoners were not conscious.

A person would go insane.

The side effects
of the cryo process are unavoidable.

You were found guilty of a crime.

You owed and still owe
a debt to society.

- There's nothing I can do.
- Yeah, there is.

- Call for backup. I'll be across the street.
- Where are you going?

Bad guys about to do bad things.
It's just one of those hunches.

- Come on.
- Go for the truck.

The food's in the truck.

Grab the big bottle. Move, move, move.

You'll regret this the rest of your life.
Both seconds of it.

Good night.

Get him!

What a fucking hero. Come on.

Please, don't.

What the hell?

Such reckless abandonment.

Looks like there's
a new shepherd in town.

That's "sheriff." Who were those guys?

They're known as scraps.

Outcasts and deserters who choose
to live beneath us...

...in sewers and abandoned tunnels.

They're a constant irritation
to our harmony.

They're nothing but thugs
and hooligans.

A society of thieves. The last remaining
criminal element in the city.

But plans are in progress
to purge this peril from our day.

You are even better live
than on LaserDisc.

The way you paused to make
a glib witticism before doing battle...

...with that scrap, and those punches--

This isn't the Wild West, okay?

The Wild West wasn't even
the Wild West.

Hurting people's not a good thing.

Well, sometimes it is, but not when
it's people looking for something to eat.

San Angeles time is now 2215.

Huxley coding off.

Auto-drive.

Auto-drive engaged.

Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you back there.

No need to make a de-hurtful retraction.

I've just assimilated
too much contraband.

I fleshed you out as some "blow up the bad
guy with a happy grin" he-man type.

But now I realize that you're
the "moody troubled-past gunslinger...

...who will only draw when he must"
type.

- Huxley, stop.
- What?

I just do my job and things get--

Demolished.

I look around and I think of my daughter
growing up in a place like this.

I'm afraid she's gonna think
I'm a primitive.

As much as I want to see her,
I almost don't want to.

Because I don't think I'll fit in
to the picture very well.

Not very well at all.

It would be a misuse of police powers,
but I can do a search for you.

No.

Sorry.

Subject change. I got what you wanted.

Oh, great.

What do you need that for?

It's just one of those cop hunches again.

Lights.

No. I've changed that.

Illuminate.

Deluminate.

Hoo! Isn't that nicer?

Go ahead, you try it.

Illuminate.

Raymond, Raymond, we've got to talk.

How did you get in?

Wish I knew. I got pass codes.

Routes to underground kingdoms.

Complete access to the industrial
data-grid interface.

I don't even know
what that shit means.

I've been meaning to ask you,
because I like it.

I like it a lot.

Your skills have been given to you
for a reason.

Not for your personal amusement.

Your job is to kill Mr. Edgar Friendly
and stop a revolution before it precipitates.

That was why you were rehabilitated.

All right. I'm gonna do
your little dastardly deed for you.

But it's gonna be a little bit more
difficult than you thought.

And I'm gonna need some help.

I'll need about five or six more
special men.

And I just so happen to have a list.

I wouldn't want you to defrost any of
those killer types, know what I mean?

And none of those motherfuckers from
New York. They're too uptight.

So you're going to be
the only killer type, right?

Exactamundo.

Fine.

Take care of it.

Just get it over with.

You're more trouble than you're worth.

Oh, Raymond, don't say that.

And what do I get out of all this?

What do you want?

Malibu.

Santa Monica. Hell, what about
all the coastal cities? Ha-ha-ha.

Well, I'll bear it in mind.

- Good, I'll send you a memo.
- Just do your job!

What is John Spartan doing here? Huh?

Did you invite him
to this little party of ours?

Look, you finish your business
and I'll stuff him back in the freezer.

Think of him as a guarantee.

A guarantee?

You don't have much of a guarantee.

I took care of Spartan once,
I'll take care of him again.

Now we need those men defrosted.

So this is where you live?

Very not bad.

Thank you.

So where will I be staying?

I've procured you a domicile
right down the corridor from my own.

Everything is voice coded,
so if you need something, just ask.

Lights.

What do you think?

Clicked off a lot of credits
to create a 20th-century apartment.

Huxley, it's very....

- Isn't it?
- Ha-ha-ha.

John Spartan...

...there is, of course, a well-known
and documented connection...

...between sex and violence.

Not so much a causal effect,
but a general state of neurological arousal.

And after having observed
your behavior this evening...

...and my resultant condition...

...um...

...I was wondering
if you would like to have sex.

- With you?
- Mm-hm.

- Here? Heh, heh. Now?
- Mm-hm.

Oh, yeah.

Great! Ha, ha.

I'll be right back.

Love Boat?

Okay.

There you go.

Now, just relax.
We'll begin in a few seconds.

Begin what?

Having sex, of course.

Yes. Yes. Yes!

What's wrong? You broke contact.

Contact? I didn't even touch you yet.

But I thought you wanted to make love.

Is that what you call this?

Vir-sex produces high alpha waves
during transference of sexual energies.

Huxley, let's do it the old-fashioned way.

Ew! Disgusting!

You mean...

...fluid transfer?

No, I mean boning, the wild mambo,
the hunka-chunka.

That is no longer done.

Exchange of bodily fluids,
know what that leads to?

Yeah, I do.
Kids, smoking, a desire to raid the fridge.

Rampant exchange of bodily fluids
was one of the major reasons...

...for the downfall of society.

After AIDS, there was NRS.
After NRS, there was UBT.

One of the first things Dr. Cocteau did
was to outlaw...

...and engineer all fluid transfer
out of societally acceptable behavior.

Not even mouth transfer is condoned.

- Kissing's not allowed?
- Ugh!

Damn, I was a good kisser.

What about kids?

- Procreation?
- Yeah.

We go to a lab.

Fluids are purified, screened...

...and transferred by authorized
medical personnel only.

It is the only legal way.

What are you doing?

Breaking the law.

You are a savage creature, John Spartan.

I wish you to leave my domicile now.

Look, you know--

Code accepted. Be well, John Spartan.

Lights.

"He doesn't know how to use
the three seashells."

Happy Halloween.

"Behavioral engineering"?

Hi, Martin, I was thinking--
Oh, my God, I'm sorry, wrong number.

Our noble facility
has been desecrated by hooligans.

Someone will pay dearly for this.

Sir, the stress breeder is inside
being demobilized as we speak.

Shit. Being frozen
must have thrown my aim off.

Don't worry,
I'll get you with the next shot.

I don't think so.

No kiss-kiss, no bang-bang.

- Detective.
- Listen, I'm sorry about last night.

Here, I made this for you.

- For me?
- Yeah.

Thank you.

Oh, I'll drive.

- I gotta learn to do this once in my life.
- Okay.

Thank you for the lovely gift.

I don't know what you guys put into
my cryo sludge.

When I thawed out,
first thing I wanted to do was knit.

How come I know what a zipperfoot,
a shuttle, a bobbin and a petit point is?

I could weave a throw rug right now
with my eyes closed.

Ha, ha. It's part of your rehab program.

For each inmate, the computer
draws up a skill or trade...

...suited to their genetic disposition.

And it would implant the knowledge
and the desire...

...to carry out whatever training
was assigned.

I'm a seamstress?

Oh, that's just great.

I come out of cryoprison
and I'm Betsy fucking Ross.

Phoenix can access computers,
operate all vehicles...

...knows the location of everything
in town...

...and is stronger than when he went in?

- Can you get me his rehab program now?
- Sure.

- I'm a seamstress.
- Access code for Simon Phoenix.

Access Simon Phoenix.

Accessing.

Access denied.

- What?
- Security override.

This can't be right.

Access granted, Officer Huxley.

Accessing Simon Phoenix,
Deepfile rehab 65-R.

Urban Combatkill. Torture Methodology.
Computer Override Authority.

There must be some mistake.

Terrorism Tactics. Weapons Training.
Martial Arts. MurderDeathKill.

Explosives Technician. Violent Behavior.

- This isn't a rehab program.
- No kidding.

This would create a monster.

- Who develops these programs?
- Cocteau Industries, of course.

But why would the benevolent Dr. Cocteau
send such a brute savage into our midst?

Good question. Let's go ask him.

No. You do not accuse a savior
of our city...

...of being connected with a
multi-MurderDeathKiller like Phoenix. It's...

...rude.

I'll be subtle.

I'm good at subtle.

Mellow greetings.

We are happy to welcome you to the
Cocteau Behavioral Engineering Complex.

Be well.

- Enhance your calm, John Spartan.
- Mm.

Mellow apologies for my lack
of physical disposition, detective...

...but I have a city/gov to run.

Well, run this.

You programmed Phoenix's rehab
to turn him into a terrorist.

And I don't think
his escape was an accident.

- Very subtle.
- Thank you.

Outside the museum, why didn't he blow
your brains out? What did you say to him?

I honestly don't remember.
Does it matter?

It matters. I saw the security disk.

He had 10 seconds to figure out
where to put the hole in your fucking head.

This display of barbaric behavior
was unacceptable even in your time.

Yeah. But it worked.

When a man like Phoenix
has a gun to your head...

...10 seconds is 9 and a half seconds
longer than you live.

Not everyone is as eager as you to resort
to violence to solve life's difficulties.

Even now, I'm beginning to wonder
if the chaos in the museum...

...was the result of Mr. Phoenix's
presence or your own.

Wonder about this, shithead.

If you think you got this maniac under
control, trust me, you don't.

Is there something specific you plan
to do with that archaic device?

John Spartan.

No, I didn't think so.

Detective, the only thing I haven't got
under control is you.

But that can be solved.

You, my Cro-Magnon friend, are dead.

Your family's dead, your past is dead.

Dead things cannot affect the living.

So enjoy your moment of
prehistoric bravado...

...because after you leave here,
it will be over.

Like everything else in your life.

Officer, return this man
to cryostasis immediately.

Be well.

Be fucked.

You are fined one--

Greetings, citizen.
How are you on this glorious day?

- I'll wait here.
- Let's go.

- I don't know.
- I do know. Turn that thing on.

- I hope you know what you're doing.
- Vector, 23 degrees.

You're asking me to disobey a direct order.
I'm to escort you to the cryoprison.

Do what you got to. I gotta nail that maniac
and put him on ice or that's where I'll be.

- Enhance your calm.
- I've had it with enhancing my calm.

I'm gonna find that psycho
and enhance his calm.

When I'm done, I'm gonna turn all
my attention to that Froot Loop, Cocteau.

You don't have to come with me.
I'll do it alone. Okay?

Even if Simon Phoenix was programmed
to escape, extinguish life and steal...

...why are you going to the wasteland?

Your city-wide manhunt didn't work,
because Phoenix was in the one place that...

...A, you can't monitor...

...B, are afraid to go and,
C, don't give a shit about.

I wanna go down there, find Phoenix
and put him in a hurt locker.

So you wanna come with me
or you wanna arrest me, huh?

Okay. I'm with you.

Let's go blow this guy.

Away. Blow this guy away.

Whatever.

Got a way with words.

- What's wrong, Huxley?
- It's not very clean.

A real garden spot.

All right, which way?

Over there.

All right, guys, be ready for anything.

My dog's better than your dog

My dog's better than yours

My dog's better 'cause he gets Ken-L Ration
My dog's--

Hey.

I'm sorry, but when I'm nervous, I....

Sorry.

Over here.

What is that emanation?

Oh, yeah.

Oh, yeah.

Come on, guys.

No, hey, just relax. All I want is a burger
and a beer, if you got one.

How am I gonna pay?

- Huxley, it is better to give....
- Ow!

- Want a slug?
- Ugh.

No, thank you.

I think I'm gonna be sick.

Oh, God.

- This is fantastic. You guys gotta try one.
- Oh, my.

Just don't ask
where the meat comes from.

What's that supposed to mean?

Do you see any cows around here?

Rat?

This is a rat burger?

Not bad.

Matter of fact,
it's the best burger I've had in years.

See you later.

They don't seem very hostile,
John Spartan.

No, they don't.

Now, that's a thing of beauty.

Do you know what this is?

A 1970 Oldsmobile 442.

With a 455-cubic-inch engine.

Radial tires and bucket seats.

- I'm impressed.
- I studied.

So did I. Hand over the glow-rod.

Your friends too. Come on, move.

Ow!

- Easy, pal.
- Yeah.

You got ball-balls, coming down here
after the show you put on.

We're looking for a MurderDeathKiller.

Can you help or just bully us
with your primitive weapons?

Well, maybe they're not so primitive.

Think you're taking me in?

Guess what. Not happening.

You tell Cocteau he can kiss my ass.
Yeah, that's right.

It'll take an army to get rid of me.

I don't give a shit. I got nothing to lose.

Pal, I don't know who the hell you are,
let alone want to take you anywhere.

So stay here, be well
and Cocteau's an asshole!

- Hey!
- Hey, man.

Let's dump them up top.
They're only here to spy on us.

Wait a minute.

You're the guy outside Taco Bell.

Yeah. What do you want?

You weren't part of the Cocteau plan.

Greed, deception, abuse of power.
That's no plan.

- That's why everybody's down here?
- Got that right.

See, according to Cocteau's plan...

...I'm the enemy, because I like to think.

I like to read.
I'm into freedom of speech and choice.

I'm the kind of guy who likes to sit
in a greasy spoon and wonder:

"Should I have steak or
jumbo barbecued ribs with gravy fries?"

I want high cholesterol. I want to eat bacon,
butter and buckets of cheese.

I want to smoke a Cuban cigar
the size of Cincinnati.

I want to run through the streets naked
with Jell-O all over my body...

...reading Playboy Magazine,
because I might feel the need to.

I've seen the future.

It's a 47-year-old virgin in his pajamas...

...drinking a banana-broccoli shake,
singing, "I'm a wiener."

Up top, you live Cocteau's way.

What he wants, when he wants,
how he wants.

Your other choice: come down here.

Maybe starve to death.

Why don't you take charge
and lead these people out of here?

I'm no leader.

I do what I have to do.
Sometimes people come with me.

I just want to bury Cocteau up to his neck
in shit and let him think happy thoughts.

Then I got bad news.

I think he wants to kill you.

All right, gentlemen, let's review.

The year is 2032.

That's 2-0-3-2.
As in the 21st century.

And I'm sorry to say that the world
has become a pussy-whipped...

...Brady Bunch version of itself
run by a bunch of robed sissies.

All we have to do
to run the whole thing...

...is to kill a man named Friendly,
who put it all together.

Ah, but there's an extra added bonus.

We get to kill the man who put most of us
behind the freezer.

You mean we get to kill John Spartan?

Exactly.

I want you to loot, pillage, plunder.
I want you to steal.

Do all the wonderful things we used to do
before all of this happened.

This world will be ours.

Let's bring back the good old days!

- Are you with me?
- Yeah!

- Are you with me? Let's do it!
- Yeah!

Yeah!

It is a curious conclusion
which you have deduced, John Spartan.

But I can find no fault in your logic.

Simon Phoenix is the perfect weapon...

...to send to the savage nether regions
in which we stand.

I am impressed, John Spartan.

You mean they thawed this guy out
just to kill me?

- I'm flattered.
- Don't be flattered. Be frightened.

This guy's a certifiable nightmare.

- That's why you're down here?
- Yeah.

I must have done something right
in a previous life.

Can't imagine what that
could have been.

Two for the price of one.

Let's take them, boys.

Stay down!

Friendly! Up on top!

I'll be goddamned.
Like a New York cockroach.

Fuck it.

I hate when things go wrong.

Phoenix!

There's an elevator shaft on top
of this place.

Does that mean we're going up?

Come on.

How nice. They must have
been expecting me.

Okay. Now what?

Buckle up.

There he is! He's in my car!

I'll be goddamned.

What is happening with the cops today?

Don't you know
you're endangering civilians?

Shit.

- Auto-inflate.
- Auto-inflate.

- Ha-ha-ha.
- Damn.

Oh, that is just lovely.

Huxley, drive.

Okay, I've read all about this. Now, okay.

So, what do I do? I just push this pedal?

Whoa! Okay, okay. I got it, I got it.

- Punch it!
- Excuse me?

Push the pedal as hard as you can!
Just catch up to him!

- Hold on.
- Faster!

Faster!

Shit.

No free rides!

- Emergency, doors open.
- Doors opening.

Say hello to my little friend.

- Doors close.
- Malfunction.

Computer, auto-drive.

Auto-drive engaged.

Gonna give you a haircut!

Remember those 40 bus passengers
that you blew apart trying to catch me?

They were already dead.

Cold as Häagen-Dazs.

Man, I went to jail with a 36-year smile.

You're dead, Spartan.

Speak for yourself.

- Self-drive.
- Unable to execute.

- Self-drive now.
- Malfunction.

Unable to execute.

Emergency.

Go left. Right.

Self-drive engaged.

Brake. Brake.

Brake now,
you Mickey Mouse piece of shit!

John Spartan?
John Spartan, are you in there?

- John Spartan!
- Who do you think it is, Huxley?

Here.

I thought your life force
had been prematurely terminated.

Yeah, I thought I was history too.

What the hell happened? All of a sudden,
this car turned into a cannoli.

It's securefoam, and it saved your life.

Look at you, you're in shambles.

Don't worry, I can fix it later.
All I need is a needle and thread.

I really didn't say that, did I?

Damn!

John Spartan.

You caveman, you're under arrest.

You are to be returned to the cryoprison
immediately.

I heard all about that.
We'll talk later, chief.

I need something, anything.
A shotgun, a flare gun.

Spartan.

- Holy shit.
- Defensive red alert.

Stun batons on.

Relax.

Look at you. You get a bump on the noggin
and think you're Pancho Villa?

- Who?
- Never mind.

Time to take a stand, pal.

Well, good. While you're doing it,
loan me a gun. Loan me two guns.

You'd use these weapons
of mass destruction...

...against men and women
who uphold the law?

We use these weapons
to shop for groceries, dick.

Spartan, wait.

You can't leave.

You're under arrest. This very concept
negates the possibility of your leaving.

Skip it, chief.

Lieutenant Huxley.

Chief, you can take this job
and you can shovel it.

"Take this job and shovel it."

Yeah?

Close enough.

No. No.

I hadn't counted on this, but I must say,
you worked out beautifully.

People are terrified of you.

What's new? People have always
been terrified of me.

Yes, but this time,
they're really intimidated.

Now I'll have carte blanche
to create the perfect society.

My society.

San Angeles will be a beacon of order...

...with the purity of an ant colony.

And the beauty of a flawless pearl.

You can't take away people's
right to be assholes.

Hmm?

That's who you remind me of...

...an evil Mr. Rogers.

Will you please kill him?

He's pissing me off.

Put another log on the fire!

I'm gonna love running this place.

Well, now...

...what shall I do with you, huh, Bobby?

I am an excellent associate, sir.

I would be delighted to continue
my services during your administration.

Ah. Maybe we'll use him.

Excuse me, the police are here.

Who in the hell do you think--?

I'm impressed.

Huxley!

That man has died by my hands.

It was either him or us, Huxley.

Yeah, there is that.

Where'd you learn to kick like that?

- Oh, um, Jackie Chan movies.
- Ah.

Looks like the Cocteau plan
just went up in smoke.

Rest in peace, Raymond Cocteau.

Oh, John Spartan, civilization as we know it
will come to an end.

What will we do?

I don't know.
But trust me, this is better for you.

What's that?

This is bad.

This is very bad.

He's accessed the cryoprison and he's
about to defrost the entire multi-lifer wing.

Most of them don't like you.

Most of these guys don't even like
their own mothers. These are bad boys.

How many are there?

Eighty. All without rehab.

They'll be reanimated within the hour.

We gotta stop this.

I'm not at all pleased about having caused
the fatality of that deranged CryoCon.

But I now understand that under certain
circumstances, violence is necessary.

Good.

Then I hope you understand this.

Oh, I hope my butt didn't look like that.

Okay, who do we have left that's good?

Let's see.

Wilkes, Patrick.

Jeffrey Dahmer? I love that guy.

We gotta get him.
How long before they're done?

- They're in the final stages of reanimation.
- Great. Absolutely great.

Gentlemen.

Thank you very much, but your services
will no longer be required.

Send a maniac to catch a maniac.

Attention. Attention.

Cryoprisoner defrosting
reanimation sequence...

...now entering final stage.

Countdown to reanimation
of prisoner batches...

...290, 310, 480 and 570:

Ten minutes.

- That's it. The very last one.
- Excellent.

Accessed.

What the hell is that?

Phoenix!

Didn't expect that one, did you?

Where are you going?

I wish you the best of luck, sir.

Stupid.

Spartan, how's it hanging, huh?

I'm sure you're familiar with
the long arm of the law, aren't you?

Why don't you struggle a little bit?
Make me work for it.

What do you say? How about
a little target practice? What do you say?

Didn't hurt your head, did you?

Shit. Piece-of-shit gun. Damn.

Fuck.

That's it, Spartan.

You're not getting out of this one.

I could drop you in that vat
of defrost over there...

...and fry your ass like a chicken.

Or with my little pinky,
drop your monkey ass down--

I'll be goddamned.

Shit! Goddamn! What am I doing wrong?

Cryoprisoner reanimation
sequence now entering final stage.

Is it cold in here, or is it just me?

Good memory.

Come here. Come here.

Piece of shit!

I hate cops!

Look in my eyes, John.
I'll see you in hell.

Not.

This is the best day of my life.

Heads up!

You have apprehended the villain
responsible for murdering Cocteau?

I wouldn't exactly say apprehended.
Let's just say he's history.

And the cryoprison, that's history too.

What will we do? How will we live?

We're all gonna go out drinking,
get shit-faced and paint the town, literally.

Put up graffiti, slogans. It'll be a blast.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
I'll tell you what you're gonna do.

Why don't you get a little dirty?

You, a lot clean.

And somewhere in the middle....

I don't know. You'll figure it out.

Fucking A.

Well put.

Mr. Friendly? Greetings and salutations,
Edgar Friendly.

I'm Associate Bob. And may I say...

...it would be a pleasure
to assist you in creating a more humane--

- Bob. Bob. Let's talk about the hair, okay?
- Hair?

Pick a color. And lose the kimono.

- You look like a couch.
- A couch?

Are you a surgeon with these gloves?

Thank you for rendering me
unconscious.

I did it for your own good.

- We're supposed to be a team.
- We are.

Oh, my. Heh.

Are all fluid-transfer activities like this?

- Better.
- Better?

Oh, my.

I think I'm gonna like the future.

Now that you've demolished everything.

But there's just one thing
I want to know:

How's that damn
three-seashell thing work?