All language subtitles for vakantie

No, no, you're not wrong.

That really is a maniacal killer clown

trying to smash my head in
with a brick on a stick.

So how did I find myself
in this situation, you ask?

Well, for that,
I'm going to need to take you back.

You ever been on holiday?

And you're just trying to drink in some
sunshine, knock back a beer or 12,

only to have your own
little slice of Shangri-La

drowned out by a gyrating colony
of gurning pillheads.

Well, I have.

I blame those iPod shuffling
DJ dickheads like this one here.

Can I have an oi oi?

These pyros are fucking shit.
Give me something better.

Don't think that's a good idea, boss.

Too much gas pressure.
It could be dangerous...

Do it now. DJ Remy doesn't like
to be kept waiting.

Whatever.

- We're good to go.
- About fucking time.

Who's ready for some big bangs?

Yeah, we have a lift-off.
In Three, two, one...

So when this particular DJ
dickhead's promoter

decided to put a bounty on his head
because he signed with the competition,

I was more than happy to oblige.

And yeah, it's a dirty job.
But in case you've forgotten,

I'm happy to get my hands
bleedin' filthy, for the right price.

And if there's one thing
I think we can all agree on,

it's that some arseholes
really do deserve to die.

I needed to keep my head down
after what happened back in London.

I grabbed my fake passport,
some dicky credit cards,

rode straight to Heathrow
and hopped on the first flight

to anywhere, which turned out to be Malta,

which was great
for a bit of the old soul searching.

I gotta confess though,
I was a bit pissed off when I found out

that Maltesers weren't even from here
and they don't even bleeding sell 'em.

This is Malta!

Which is bullshit.

But that aside, I bloody love
this little Mediterranean gem.

The sun always shines,
the beer flows freely.

And with the Middle East, Europe
and North Africa, just a puddle jump away,

I can bump someone off in Dubai

and be back home
before 'Match of the Day' starts.

Okay, I had a feeling
it was gonna be tonight.

So let's fucking have it.

Jesus Christ.
It's a brand new TV and it's a AK OLED.

Christ. Still got eight episodes
of “Bake Off” to watch.

No.

Flamingo! Flamingo!

Jesus Christ, Siu-Ling,

I pay you to smash me up,
but not the apartment.

I mean, look at the state of this place.
It's a right mess.

You need to say the safe word sooner
if you want me to stop.

You think I can read your mind
or something?

You stupid!

This is Siu-Ling.

Now, she might look pretty sweet
and innocent at first glance,

but as you can see, she's got
some serious anger management issues

and a right bloody sting in her tail.

Add to this, she's probably the best
martial artist I've ever tangled with.

Hey, get off me.

I first met her when she was a waitress
at the local dive bar.

Now, apparently, she grew up
on the mean streets of Hong Kong

and is a descendant
of the great Wong Fei-hung,

skilled in more martial disciplines
than I've had hot dinners.

If she gets out on the wrong side
of bed in the morning,

there's no telling
what damage she's capable of.

Excuse me.
How much are they paying you here?

Want a raise?

I don't speak Cantonese.
What are you saying? Say it in English.

Motherfucker.

You need to speak up, Fallon.
You know the deal.

Don't say flamingo, I don't stop.

And I thought we agreed, right?
No nut shots. Do you remember that?

What did you do?
You tried to put them up into orbit.

And what else did you do?
Smashed the bleeding vase off my bonce.

Look at the bloody TV.
You're out of your mind.

Defense, you idiot.
You need to defend yourself at all times.

Don't touch me.

You're gonna have to help me clean
this place

because I can't do it on my own.

What? You clean it yourself.
I'm not your maid!

I'm not here to clean your dirty sheets.
I come here to fight. That's it.

Now, where is my money, Gweilo?

Fine. Good fight.

Probably see you middle
of next week then, yeah?

Maybe. Or maybe you'll see me sooner.
You never know. Bye-bye.

I've got to be honest.

I lost my fair share of sleep over
what I did to my mates back in England.

I sometimes wonder if me taking
a weekly kicking from Siu-Ling

isn't just another training session
and more like me paying penance

for all that guilt I'm holding on to.

Get the fuck out of my pub.

Well, that was then. This is now.
I'm better off alone anyway.

It's me, myself and fucking I from now on.

No mates, no birds,
no disgruntled assassin father figure,

and no one to let me down
or get in my way.

- Just leave.
- Let go of me.

- Get his legs.
- Just leave me alone.

Fred?

Fry tonight. Shit.

Looks like you pissed
down the wrong alley, Fred.

Mike? What you doing here?

I think you're right.
- Come on.

Lucky you turned up when you did.
I was just about to do the other two.

Yeah, looked like it.

Why don't you tell me
what you're doing in Malta,

setting people on fire?

Oh, did you clock that cheeky
little gizmo I came up with?

- It was all right, that.
- That meathead got toasted.

Then the other two
started kicking the shit out of you.

Very smooth, that was.
So what were you doing back there?

Getting handsy with the birds?

No, nothing like that.
I was looking for someone.

Looking for someone?
Eh, you looking for me?

Did Big Ray send you?

No, I didn't even know
you was here. I...

Don't you be lying to me, Fred.

I, I don't speak to Big Ray no more.
Nobody does. Ain't you heard?

- Heard what?
- Ray lost the Oasis.

No one wanted to hire us after
you killed Milton and all the others.

It's funny, but people stop calling
when your firm gets a reputation

for lopping off the heads of its clients.

Don't guilt trip me on that one,
all right?

Pete and Milton had it coming, and, well,

the rest of them
didn't give me much choice?

You could have handled it
a little bit better.

Probably right.

- So Big Ray must be fuming then, yeah?
- Well, you could say that.

I don't know where your head
was at at that time,

but I think I'm beginning
to understand it a bit better.

Mike, I have fallen in love.

- You what?
- Yes, I'm in love.

I met this girl. She's the most
beautiful girl in the world.

She's like an angel.
Her name is Leylo.

Oh, pretty. Where did you meet her?

Well, actually, technically,
I haven't actually met her yet,

but we've been chatting, online.

Internet, Fred?
My God, you have changed.

Yeah, finally plucked up
the courage to go online,

and Leylo emailed me back
the very next day.

Oh, just out of the blue.
Like, that was it?

Well, that's how love works, right?

It's a scam, mate.

That's what Big Ray said.
And you're both wrong.

It's a bloody scam. I bet
she asked you for money, didn't she?

What makes you say that?

Because it's a bleeding scam, you dope.
Tell me you didn't give her any, please.

Oh, you bloody well did, didn't you?
You stupid tit.

All right, come on, we've got to get you
out of here before the cops turn up.

And downstairs, mate,
we've got the games room,

jacuzzi down there, bedrooms over there,
foosball, pool, satellite TV.

All you need.

Lovely, Mike.
You always did like nice, shiny things.

You know me, mate.

I'll tell you what,
you have seen it the other day.

It was right mess...

God, I really need to invest
in a sponge coffee table.

Oi, you.

Shit Siu-Ling, this ain't the time.

What the hell?
You brought in back-up?

- Stop it.
- I will kill you both.

Flamingo. Flamingo.

Flamingo.

Jesus Christ.
Hasn't been a week already, has it?

No, but you did so poorly last time,
I thought you needed the extra training.

Thankfully, just a coffee table
was the only casualty this time.

Oh, and you, I guess. Eh, Fred?

What the bloody hell's going on?

Who is this?

Siu-Ling, this is my old mate, Fred.
Fred, meet Siu-Ling.

Oh, sorry. I thought he brought you in
to even up the odds. Nice to meet you.

I'm a bit confused here.

Is she your mate
or is she trying to kill you?

A little bit of both, actually.

Siu-Ling helps me decompress
after a decent shift, know what I mean.

Fallon is a good martial artist.
He trains with me, and I make him better.

Look, me and Fred have got a bit
of catching up to do so...

Tell you what, call that one a draw,

and I'll see you when it's time
for the next ruck, yeah?

Sorry about your face, Fred.

- That's all right. Nice to meet you.
- See you.

Listen, you can stay here tonight

the police are scouring
the streets looking for a little,

podgy, specky tosser
with a pocket flamethrower.

But after that, you're gone.

There's no need to be like that, Mike.
I'm looking for Leylo.

I love her and I could really do
with your help.

She's a scam, mate. Right?

She's a scam which only
lonely bastards like you fall for.

How much did you pay her?

Fifty grand, give or take.

Fifty grand, you stupid twit.

She needed it for the visas
and the plane tickets.

She got on a flight from Haiti,
and she hasn't been seen since,

until one of my old stool pigeons
saw her in a club over here.

Luckily, you were there to help me out.

Lucky, my arse, old mate.

I get the feeling
that this is a bad, bleedin' omen.

An omen is somewhere in between
opportunity and wisdom, Michael.

I ain't got time for this, all right?

I'm behind on a job,
and I need to get my head around it.

Well, let me have a butcher's.
A problem shared is a problem halved.

I might be able to help you out.

Meet Mr. Micallef.
A self-professed hermit.

Never leaves the house, not day or night.

But he does, however, water his lovely
flowers once a day at noon without fail.

Didn't take Fred long to tap
into his high-tech security system.

Let's see if this works.

Bleeding hell.
That couldn't have gone any better.

Did you see the way his head bounced
along like my balls? That was exquisite.

Cheers. It's great to be back
in the saddle again.

So anything else in the pipeline
that you need me to work with...

Hang on a minute, Fred.
I didn't say you could stay.

But we make a good team.

Well, I have been pretty busy lately.

You know what? It turns out there's more
people need killing in this corner

of the world than I can keep up.

So I can stay then, Mike?

How could I mind? I mean, look at him.

I wouldn't trust most people
as far as I could throw them

but Fred's as honest as the day is long.

Well, as honest as any killer can be.

- All right, you can stay, for a bit.
- Yes.

- And don't you be telling Big Ray.
- 'Course not.

'Cause you know what's gonna happen
if he finds out.

- He wouldn't be happy?
- No.

All right, cool.

Looks like you're gonna have to get
your test pilot cap on again,

because you're gonna need
to sing for your supper.

What about poison nuts?

Here we go then, mate.

Yes.

Flamingo, flamingo!

It's 3:00 in the morning.
I need to get some sleep, don't I?

I can't believe I'm gonna say this,

but for the first time
in a very long while,

if you saw my face,
you might actually think I was happy.

Life was turning out to be pretty sweet.
Having Fred around was decent.

We were as thick as thieves again

and taking down marks
like they were going out of fashion.

Come on, just think
of that lovely happy...

Fuck.

Bleeding hell, Mike,
you cut that one a bit fine.

I thought I was going to actually
have to chug him.

He was a very good kisser, though.

Nice one.

With business booming
and Fred wanting to test

his new game plans
somewhere a bit more private,

we found a nice little pad

and decided to drop a few quid
on an HQ, well, kind of.

This is The Shambles,
as Fred started calling it

after one too many failed test runs,
which was apt really

because it's also an English term
for a slaughterhouse.

This is our lab...

I think we're rolling.

Where he trials all of his new techniques
and where I can have a bash at seeing

if they're actually going to work.

Go on, Fred.

Whoa, yes. Yes.

What a shot. Nice one mate.

- You ready?
- I'm ready.

Three, two, one.

Give yourself a bit of a room.
Move back.

- Right. Ready, then?
- Yeah.

Three, two, one. Go.

Shit.

Blow it out, Fred.

Fred, fire extinguisher back here.
Fred. There's a fire extinguisher...

Just get out the way.
Move out of the way.

I told you there was a fire extinguisher.
You want to set the whole place on fire?

- Her tits are hanging out.
- Oh, yeah.

- Yeah, I think that's it.
- Yeah?

Filming them, Fred? Yeah? Ready?

This is how you separate the men
from the boys.

Three, two, one...

Fucking hell. Why's it not working?
The flames on, why's it not working?

Might be all right on Bonfire Night,
but how's that an accident?

Oh, shut up, Fred. Flippin' hell,
I'm gonna have to find the receipt now.

You could always use it to strip paint.

Fuck off.

One, two, three.

I told you it wasn't gonna work.

No pain, no gain, eh, mate?

I don't understand it.
I calibrated that trigger perfectly.

It's slapdash, Fred, right?
Like most of the things you come up with.

Some of them are good. Most of them,
like this one over here, are shit.

It's like those suits over there.

Be honest with me, Fred.
You really think that they're gonna work?

They will work.

I've whittled the detonating cable down

to a fine thread and put it
into the seams.

I've put C4 flakes in the lining,

a blasting cap in one of the buttons
and a receiver in the other button.

So all you have to do
is dial in and boom.

Fred. It's not gonna work, okay?
It's not gonna get the yield.

It's gonna singe him a little bit at best.
Come on, please.

Wait a minute.
I think we've got a job coming in.

Oh, yeah?

Have a butcher's.

- Reject that right now.
- Why?

Never bite the hand that feeds you, mate.

- And what hand might that be?
- You ever heard of the Zuuzer?

- No.
- No?

Well, you bloody well should have done.
Mean as fuck, Old Testament Cosa Nostra

headed up by some nut bag witch

with a reputation as severe
as her hairline.

Proper wrath of Hades stuff, that mate.

So a mix of Cosa Nostra and ancient Greek?
Don't sound ideal to me.

No, it ain't but, pays the bills,
doesn't it?

See that lad there?
That is Mrs. Zuuzer's reprobate kid.

Talk about making a rod for your own back.

I tell you what, whoever accepts that job

has got brass balls bigger
than their brains.

- I'll be surprised if anyone touches that.
- So you want me to reject it, then?

Absolutely. Get rid of it.

Flamingo. Flamingo.

- Coffee, Fred?
- Oh, yes, please.

Can I have one as well?

Did that sort out
your post murder tension?

You know something?

We'd get a lot more jobs done

if you didn't have to have
a ruck after every shift.

Can't you just crack one out
and be done with it?

Tried that though, Fred. It doesn't work.

I spit in yours.

Thanks.

Pretty girl.

She's the love of my life, Siu-Ling.
She's gone missing.

Missing, where?

I wish I knew.
Then she wouldn't be missing.

I had a friend like her.
She went missing too.

But she eventually turned up working
in some dirty sex club against her will.

That would never happen to me.

A friend of mine thought he saw her
in a place like that.

I know someone who helps girls like that.
I will ask around.

Really, Siu-Ling? That would be brilliant.
Her name is Leylo and she is...

The biggest scam is what she is.

Oh, bollocks!

I will help if I can, Fred.

Thanks, Siu-Ling.

- Nice one.
- See you later.

You let her beat you up, don't you?

No, no. She's legit, mate.
Right, eyes in the back of her head.

And she knows about
eight different forms of animal kung fu.

It's like having a scrap in a zoo.

You are allowed to forgive yourself,
you know that.

- What?
- For what happened in London.

You're carrying all that guilt.

You want to let go of it,
otherwise you'll drown in it.

I tell you what, the only thing I'm guilty
of is being stupid enough

to get back into business with you
if that rubber ducky hit doesn't pay.

It'll work.

Yeah, well, make sure it does,
because we're leaving in an hour.

It's all primed and ready to go.

Good.

Miserable bastard.

Hello.

Evening, sir. Sorry to bother you.

I was just wondering if you knew

in which city King Edgar of England
was crowned back in 973 AD?

Bath.

What the fuck was that?

What the bloody hell's going on?
Where are we? Who are you lot?

So you are the famed Accident Man?

No mate, think you might have me
confused with somebody else.

Where were you last Thursday night?

Last Thursday night?

Oh, yeah, that's right.

Watching your mum
try not to swallow her tongue, I think.

You fucking mule.

We made you
and your Nicky Nacky very wealthy.

Show some respect.

Nicky Nacky?

- Jesus Christ, mate. Is that all you got?
- Okay.

This is fun to you, no?

Yeah, it's pretty funny, mate,
cause you hit like a bleeding Teletubby.

There you go, mate. That's it.
Get stuck in, why don't you? Come on.

Enough with this toxic masculinity.

We know exactly who you are

since one of my loyal soldiers sacrificed
himself so that we may draw you out.

Hang on a minute.

You let one of your own team members die
just to get a face to face with me?

I'm flattered.

I have to hand it to you both,
that bathtub ploy was ingenious.

Oh, you like that, yeah?
Fred's idea, that was.

Quite innovative.

Just another day at the office, Missus...

Zuuzer.

Oh, fuck, Mike. The wrath of Hades.

That's right, mate, yeah.

I take it by your friend's palpitations
that you are aware of our reputation.

We know who you are.

Good for you.
And how about this little gentleman?

Do you know who he is?

Spoilt little runt, by the looks of it.

Unfortunately,
you are not far from the truth.

This is my son, Dante.

He was raised well,
educated in the finest schools,

tutored in the ways of the world.

But with all that behind him,

he still managed to spiral
into this pathetic,

drug addled, delinquent mess
you see before you now.

- I love you too, Mamma.
- Quiet!

- So you two have never seen him before?
- Never.

Dante has decided
to rinse his premium breeding

and doors I've opened for him
into the gutter.

All in the name of following some quixotic
dream of becoming a pop star.

Something he's adamant he can achieve

even though he has the voice
of a snared animal.

Mamma! How dare you?

Quiet.
Or I'll have you gagged and whipped!

But I paid the money

Every night he defies me,
getting paralytic,

snorting cocaine out of whore's backsides
and raping everyone's ear drums.

To salt the wounds of all of his filthy
dispositions, Dante also smokes.

It was that vulgar addiction
which last week proved problematic.

Dante's team escorts him outside
the karaoke bar every 12 minutes

so he may poison his lungs along
with the rest of his eroding innards.

I told you smoking would be the death
of you, didn't I?

Yeah. Well,

before you said it was when I kept kissing
the cat on the mouth.

This... was no accident,

although it was played out
to look like one.

Something of your speciality.

Our people looked into it.

They tell us the gas pipe was tampered
with in that sewer.

- Wasn't me.
- That job did come in.

- But... but we rejected it.
- Yeah, we did.

Was it last Thursday, you say?

- We got an alibi.
- That was your birthday, wasn't it, mate?

- Twenty-one again.
- That's right.

I think we were in one
of your clubs to be honest.

Your security cameras
can probably clear us.

- Coincidence, huh?
- What's the name of that club again, Fred?

- The Sparkling Clam.
- The Sparkling Clam, that was it, yeah.

It even sounds like
a bloody yeast infection.

You know, the one with the big
heifer singing on the stage.

Your missus, I'm guessing.

You all right, mate?
Hurt yourself, did ya?

Bloody hell,
you really are all flash and no bash.

So I guess that puts you in the clear?

- I think so, yeah.
- For now.

It would seem that a spineless
corporate CEO out of Scandinavia

has put out a contract on my son.

We never thought anyone
would be stupid enough to.

And since you
are a very capable contractor,

only someone like you

would have the skills to find out
who this assassin is.

I need you to hunt down whoever
that may be and I want you to kill them.

I'd rather lick
a crackhead's scabby elbow.

Very well, if you do not,
we will kill your friend.

What?

Go on, kill him then. I don't give a shit.

Don't test my resolve, Mr. Fallon.

Oh, please crack on. I couldn't care less.

This joe has been doing my head for years.
You'll be doing me a favor.

- Go on, mate, do him.
- Mike! No way!

Armando. On tre. Uno.

Due...

- Tre.
- Fine.

- Fine! I'll do it, for triple the fee.
- You'll do it for his life.

This is simple.

Intercept and kill whoever is trying
to take my figlio from me

and you can have your concubine back.

What the fuck does that mean?

Yeah, cheers lads.

As much as I'd like to cut my losses

and get the hell out of here,
I couldn't do that to Fred.

And you know what makes this whole
situation even more weird

is that the botched hit
did have me written all over it.

What the bleeding hell am I going to do?
I need a pint.

How did you find me, Ray?

Listen, Ray...

Do you know what really twists
my knackers?

You put your faith in a foreign boozer,
just like this one,

who claim to sell
a classic full English breakfast,

they end up serving you pig swill
like this.

Take this banger, yeah.

Looks decent enough.

And you trust that it's going
to be wholesome,

nutritious, tasty as fuck.

But then you dig a little deeper beneath
the surface and actually take a bite...

and you realize it's a treacherous,
classless fucking letdown.

Just like you.

But I'm ravenous, so c'est la vie.

I heard that you've got
a nice little earner going on down here.

I don't know what you mean, Ray.

Dear Ray, I hope you're well.

I just wanted you to know
that I'm doing okay, so no need to worry.

- Me and Mike...
- Fuck sake.

I mean, to be fair to Fred,
he didn't actually say where here was.

But that numpty jots his note down on
a napkin from the Black Boar Bar, Valetta.

Look, it's just a side thing we got going
on down here.

It's not like we're breaking
the bank or anything.

PS. We are breaking the bank.

Well, you know what Fred's like, Ray.
He exaggerates.

Nothing we got going on down here

- is going to bother you...
- Bother me!

You havin' a laugh?

You have bothered me, no, scratch that.
You fucking ruined me.

Do you think anyone would hire us
after what you did?

No need to answer that, 'cause the answer
is a fucking obvious 'no'.

You left me with five fifths of fuck all.

And to think... you had the stones
to start contracting again.

You destroyed what took me decades
to build.

For that... you're gonna pay.

Well, I'll pay for your full English then,
shall I?

You're gonna pay for more than that.

You brought me out of retirement.

I'm actually down here for a gig.

And the fact that the hit happens to be
in Malta and I can catch up with my mates,

it's actually a little Brucey bonus.

It was you, wasn't it?

Yeah, that botched Zuuzer kid job.
That was you, right?

- Not like you to miss, Ray.
- Yeah well, like I said, a bit rusty.

Make mistakes, like I did back in London.

Should have just shot the cunt.
Old school.

Listen, Ray.

You need to bail on this Zuuzer kid job,
right?

They thought it was me
who tampered the gas line,

you tried to make it look like
an accident.

Now they've got Fred held hostage.

Anything happens to that kid,
they're gonna kill Fred.

Well, it's not my problem, is it?

He's your mate now, not mine.
You both made that abundantly clear.

I don't know why you took the job.

If you'd done your due diligence
you would have known why we passed on it.

Why everybody fucking passed on it.

He's the heir to the Zuuzer family, for
God's sakes.

Well, a mark's a mark and a job's a job.

I ain't scared of any crime family
from the end of nowhere.

- You should be.
- Well, I fucking ain't!

There was a time when we
didn't give two shits who the mark was.

Well,
that was before your little hissy fit.

The only thing you need to give a shit
about is Mrs. Zuuzer

'cause she will slit Fred's throat
if you don't call off this hit.

You haven't heard?

- Heard what?
- Well, the client has upped the bounty by

fucking loads.

I ain't the sole contractor anymore.
It's opened up.

- What're you talkin' about? To who?
- Everyone worth their salt.

Cream of the crop landed
on Maltese soil.

- Fucking joking.
- They called us for a briefing.

I can't remember a client ever being
arrogant enough to do that

but I guess money talks.

Paid us 50 grand just to turn up
in person.

One by one, we had to step up

and load our bank details
into the computer.

It's a massive 9 million euros
to the lucky sod who gets the job done.

That's 7,675,056 Pounds Sterling
in real money.

Who we talking about? Who'd you see?

Oyumi wasn't there, was he?

- Oh, we was there!
- Yeah.

So no need to gild the pissin' lily
on this one, eh?

'Cause Oyumi's a bona fide fucking ninja.

If he's sent your name,
you won't see him coming.

So looks like Fred's fucked,
'cause if I don't do it,

rest assured one
of the others will.

Ray, please, you need to help me
with this one.

I ain't helping you with fuck all...

so stay out of my way.

And when I've snuffed out
this little runt,

we'll get back to what you owe me.

Whatever we've got going on
can wait because...

What's that?

It turns out that little twerp

has only got
a fucking tracking device on him.

Client's sending the link now.

So you'd better get your skates on,
'cause it's a proper game on.

Come on.

To see some of my friend
And find out the way

Come on.

Turn the music off. Get him off the stage.

What are you doing here?

Easy lads, I come in peace.
We're all on the same team.

You need to get him out
of here, quick!

We don't need your help,
you English prick.

You actually do, mate,

this tone-deaf joke's got
a tracking device

and a gaggle of assassins about
to turn up, kill every last one of you.

Of course he has, you idiot.
It's in his watch.

How else do you think we keep track
of him?

- He's had it since he was a bambino.
- Look, it's a burning fuse now, mate.

You need to get rid of it.

Who the fuck do you think you are, eh?
Dickhead.

You're the fucking hired help.
This watch, yeh, is a classic.

One of a kind.
I would die before I take it off.

So up your fucking arsehole.

Take the watch and destroy it.

- What the fuck did I just say?
- Good call.

Who you think you all are?

You fucking...

Problem solved.

Freya du Preeze, the Angel of Death.

Recruited in Johannesburg by Interpol

and trained in the dark arts
by those who think James Bond is a muppet.

Move!

Freeze!

So stop.

- Freya.
- Fallon.

- Been a while.
- Like five years, I reckon.

Russia wasn't it?

You stole that dirty politician
from me, eh?

You know what it's like.
First come, first served.

I've always respected you, Fallon.
You're a damn good assassin.

But if it's a choice between killing you
or 9 million in my bank,

I'm afraid that's no choice at all.

This one's personal to me, Freya.

So, as a professional courtesy,
I'm going to need to ask you to fuck off.

I can't fuck off, but I can fuck you up.

Okay, Freya, really nice seeing you again.

I think we should
call it a day, don't you?

I see.

- Jesus Christ!
- Well, move your fucking head then.

Please, please, please.
I'll make you rich.

Please!

Fuck. Fuck!

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fucking out of order.

- Oh, God! What the fuck is going on?
- Come here!

- Mr. Fallon, do you have my son?
- I've got him, yeah.

But it proper kicked off back there,
and your entire security team got wasted.

- Is he okay?
- Oh, he's fine, yeah.

Apart from the fact he just decided
to swallow his own watch.

Unless I cut it out of his guts,

he's gonna be a walking target
till he pinches off his next loaf.

- When was the last time you took a shit?
- None of your business.

Is that my Mamma? I want to talk to her.
Mamma!

I need you to protect my son at all costs.
Do you understand?

Listen.
I ain't a fuckin' babysitter, okay?

I'm a professional killer.

And with all due respect, Mrs. Zuuzer,
your son is an absolute twat.

We ain't gonna gel.

Mamma! This arsehole just punched me
in the face...

You don't need to get along.

You just need to neutralize the threats
and keep him alive.

You'll be lucky if I don't kill
this prick myself.

If you ever want to see your friend again,
you won't make that mistake.

Bring him back to me in one piece.
Do we have a deal, Mr. Accident Man?

- All right, fine.
- Then it's done.

- Come here.
- What are you doing?

Take me to my Mamma.
She's the only one who can protect me.

Listen to me, you idiot.

Your mummy just hired me
to protect you, okay?

- So you do as you're fucking told.
- You... you... you...

you are a fucking ugly troll.

Anybody ever tell you that, yeah, you look
like a fucking melted Ben Affleck?

I'll tell my mamma how you treated
me and you're gonna pay for your actions.

She knows exactly how to treat a
man like you.

- And if you strike me one more time...
- Oh, Jesus.

What you doing here?

- We haven't got the time to buy a shampoo.
- Shut up!

- Laxatives, you got any?
- Yeah.

- Well, give it to me. Come on, let's go!
- Here.

- What the fuck are you doing? You...
- Shut up.

You... What the... You...

- In one end, out the other, hey mate?
- Just take me home, boy.

You call me boy one more time,
I swear to God,

I'm gonna kill you.

I'll worry about killing your old
mother when the time comes.

- You understand?
- Take me to my mamma.

Take me to my mamma! Take me...

I'm gonna...

- You got a back way out of his place?
- Yeah. There.

- Come here. Let's go. Keep moving.
- Get the fuck off me.

Please, just give me five minutes.
I cannot breathe.

I've got asthma, probably. Please.

- Hello? Are you listening to me?
- All right, shut up!

Now this is the great Yendi..

Born in Ghana,
named after the town he was abandoned in.

He sells himself as a sodding vampire,

but essentially he's just
a fuckin' butcher.

- This Freya's blood?
- Most of it.

- B Positive.
- Always try to be, pal.

Foolish boy, B Positive is rare.

Only about eight percent,
but not the rarest.

What type you rockin'?

Last time I checked,
high bloody octane, mate.

Please kill him and my mamma
will make you rich.

It does not work like that.

It works the way I say it works.

Stay there.

I'm looking forward to killing him

but I will savor that one till I'm done
with you.

- Get up!
- Fucking...

This way.

Fuck this.

Get up there.

- Get up there!
- Push me, you fucking... Push me.

- Fucking get up there, you dum-dum.
- I'm fucking trying.

Push!

- Use your arms, get up.
- I'm using my arms.

What do you think I'm using, my teeth?
Fuck!

Going to taste your blood.

Help! Help!

Dum-dum, where are you?

There's a fucking maniac
with an ax trying to kill me.

- Somebody get...
- Come here.

Right, just get in here and you stay
in there if you know what's good for you.

Look, I'm scared...

Let me know how this tastes.

Nice and tasty?

AB negative.

The rarest and finest of them all.

What, me or you?

I... am unique, a less than one percenter.

You're a common, dirty boy.

- Shall I finish you off then?
- No...

Let a brother bleed.

Go on then. Off you pop.

Is he dead?

He is now.

So what now, eh?

So, what are we doing now, idjota?

Idjota. I'm guessing that means idiot.

Why don't we put that on the same list
as 'boy'?

I'm handling things. Come here.

Siu-Ling, when you get this message,
I need you to do me a favor.

There's a karaoke bar off Strait Street,
I need you to pick up my bike.

This whole place
was drilled into the side of a cliff,

so these walls are as thick as my skull.

I hope we can figure out what to do
with that homing beacon you swallowed.

I see...
I like what you've done with the place.

Just sit there.

Right...

That is for puke, piss, shit,
whatever else you feel like pushing out.

Are you insane?

I'm not going in a bucket.

I have rights.

You lost your rights when you decided
to swallow that classic, you dimwit.

If you think I'm letting you out
of my sight, think again.

So anyway, I know your mum might think
it's irrelevant to us laymen,

but you mind explaining to me why five
of the world's best assassins

are all lining up to take you out?

She must have pissed off some people
in some very high places.

You think my mamma ever tell me anything?

She's a tyrant with thugs and gangsters,

imagine what it's like growing up
with her.

It's like being raised
by a fucking scorpion.

Think you had it bad?

You haven't got a clue, mate, right?

Imagine if the bloody Terminator
was your surrogate father.

You don't know what you're talking about.

All I know is, nobody who crosses
my mother crosses her twice.

My mother is so mean,
even the devil would send her soul back.

- My mother...
- My mother, my mother. Shut up.

Jesus Christ,
I wish I hadn't flamin' asked.

- Can I, can I have water, please?
- No.

Please.

Oh, I'm not safe with you.

- You're a magnet for psychos.
- Oh, I'm a magnet?! No, no, no.

I'm not the one with a GPS signal
wafting out of my arsehole, mate.

That's you.

You better hope they don't get to me.

Otherwise, your friend...
he's going bye-bye.

It's going to be a long day, okay?

I don't have to listen
to you blathering on.

You know what?

I hear that your digestive system works
three times as fast once you're asleep.

So maybe you should get some kip.

It's the middle of the day.
I'm not tired yet.

Okay.

Stunning, isn't it?

It's lovely.

Fantastic...

color palette.

Saint Anthony... performer of miracles.

Oh, right.

It is believed that back in the day

when Saint Anthony was walking the streets
of Padova,

he saw a man fall from a tall tower.

Saint Anthony commanded him to stop.

And the man remained suspended in the air.

His life was saved.

That's very interesting.

The reason I'm telling you this

is that if today an annoying,
bespectacled little man

were to fall from a great height,

I don't know if Saint Anthony
would be around to perform such a miracle.

I don't know quite what you mean.

What she means, little man,
is that we've lost Dante's signal.

This isn't very good news for you.

Mike'll get the job done.

You don't know him like I do.

Your faith in your partner is admirable.
I can respect that.

But if your man does not bring back my boy

- to me...
- He will. He will!

You better pray that he does,
my little friend.

This place ain't watertight and if
this pillock can't drop the kids off

at the pool anytime soon,
we could get overrun.

Oh, here we go.

Looks like we have our first guest
to the party.

I thought you said it was a flamingo
situation and then you grab me.

- What the hell?
- I thought we said no nut shots.

And I told you to protect them
at all times.

I found your bike by the karaoke club.

Do you, did you get hit by a bomb?
Was that you?

Hey, hey, where are you going?

What is this place?

Just somewhere me
and Fred get a bit of work done.

- Don't worry about it.
- You mean where you kill people?

I'm sorry, what?

Do you think I am stupid like you?
I know what you do.

- Really?
- Yes.

All right. That doesn't bother you?

No. I figured you only kill people
who deserve it.

Oh, yeah, yeah.
They definitely all deserved it.

Maybe I should join you.

How about it, Fallon?
You think I can kill someone?

You know what?

With your temperament, yeah,
I think you probably could.

Once you go down that road, there's...
there's no coming back from it.

I don't think you want to do that.

- Let's go.
- Why?

Are you in trouble?

I'm a better fighter than you.
Let me help.

You're not a better fighter than me.
But do you know what?

You're a good friend.

Though all you seem to do
is scream obscenities

in my face and knee me
in the bollocks,

I don't want to see you get hurt.
So come on, we need to go.

Well, look who it is.
Silas, the San Francisco Strangler.

Apparently this Brad Pitt wannabe used
to be a model.

But when a photographer made
the fatal mistake of calling him fat,

Silas strangled him to death
and has never looked back since.

He's as vicious as a viper with a grip
like an anaconda.

Bravo. That was beautiful.

A friend of yours?

We're not friends yet.
But it's a lovely day for it, isn't it?

- Lovely day for what?
- Choking overprivileged little piggies.

- None of those here, mate.
- We both know there's at least one.

And I'm going to huff and puff
and strangle that little porky pig.

You know what?
Not sure that's how the rhyme goes,

but why don't you do me a favor?

Take your flasher's mac

and your shit jeans and piss off
before you get your head kicked in.

- I heard you were arrogant.
- I heard you were a throbbing twat.

I'm guessing both rumors were true.

Now, now, there's no need for language
like that.

Which brings us back to Poco.

Poco, 'the Killer Clown'.

Now they say he was born in a brothel and
is as tightly wound as a jack in the box.

He's one handle crank away from snapping.

This guy was supposed
to be an urban myth,

but he looks pretty real to me.

So now there's a clown.
I don't like clowns, Fallon.

Was it something I said?
I knew she was dead

I could have just billed her
Instead I just killed her

It's Poco Poco, the Clown

De-dum de-dum de-dum de-dum
de-dum de-bum de-buppity bum

Oh, piss off, mate.

Cover me in honey and release the hounds.

Do you know what I like to do
with pesky little boys like you?

Beat them.

Yeah, I bet you do. You weirdo.

Shut up. Enough! Get lost, clown.

This is my prize.

That's it.

Adios.

And for you, you're dead.

The same with your little girlfriend.
But it won't be a swift death.

Oh, no, it'll be nice and sexy.

One where I really get to know her.
You know the type, Fallon.

I'm gonna take great pleasure...

Well, that's one less horse
in the race, eh, kids?

So, where is the birthday boy?

I bet he's so excited that Poco's
at his party.

Oh, oh, oh, you are a sneaky little thing,
aren't you?

I think you broke my septum.

You bitch! Fuck! Fuck!

I almost felt that.

Yeah, I heard about your condition,
you freak.

Is that true, then?

You really can't feel any pain?

None whatsoever.

Congenital insensitivity to pain.

Isn't this fun, huh? Your turn.

If you lick it,
I'll let you squeeze my nose.

Painful?

- Painful?
- Nope.

How about that?
Come on, you must have felt that one.

I did feel that...

and it felt good!

Come here.

Is that all you've got, you dirty pighead?

Oh, mercy!

You wench!

What? Your little pinkie hurting?

You're tougher than you look,
little dragon.

Oh God!

Gesù I'm sorry
for every bad thing I ever done.

Come on!

Come on, then.

Fucking mad!

For fuck sakes, Fred.

Nice.

Poco.

Poco the clown.

Now that... that must have fucking hurt.

See you.

Oi dummy, get down here. We need to go!

Siu-Ling, you all right?

- Where is he?
- I choked him.

I think he's dead.

Okay, okay.

And how did that feel?

Pretty good.

Yeah! I done it.

I shit it out.

No!

Oyumi. Bollocks!

I'd think very hard about your next move,
mate.

If you so much as a flinch,
I'll torch the both of you.

Why would you do that?

Because I'm a fucking sore loser,
that's why.

So it is true.

The famous 'Accident Man'...

once a great hunter,
has now become a bodyguard.

- You think you're fast enough?
- Try me.

I could slit his throat...

and your little courtesan's before you
could even blink.

This thing spits out napalm
like an 80-year-old man's piss pipe.

No telling where it's gonna go,
but please be my guest.

Come here.

I wonder if I could kick your ass.

No dirty tricks, no accidents.

Just you and me in a martial combat.

- I will fuck you, you piece of shit.
- You stay out of this, Siu-Ling.

Hey, listen, mate,
you want a crack at the title?

Be my guest.

You'd better leave him breathing.

You do that and we can go round
and round if you fancy it.

Very well.

This one is going nowhere.

- I'll take this fool.
- No!

You're gonna pay for that.

Oh, I don't think so.

So this is what it feels like...

to be a loser.

Mikey-san, are we done?

Disappointing.

No, we ain't done, mate.

We ain't done.

Do you know what?

I never took
a kicking I didn't learn from.

Why don't we try that again?

Very well.

Try to keep up this time.

Game over... Accident Man.

Well, that's enough.

Ray.

Ray!

Get out here, you bastard.

Ray, don't do it please. What about Fred?

What about him? Collateral damage, eh?

Just like the other Oasis members back
in London you murdered.

Like you give a fuck.

I said, get out here, you little shit.

Look, I don't blame you
for being pissed off with me, all right.

- I don't blame you.
- Pissed? You ruined me.

Everything I worked my whole life
for gone because of you.

And once I kill this little piece of shit,

I won't need anybody because I'll have
my millions to keep me company.

Yeah, maybe...

but you'll still be a miserable old
bastard, won't you? Huh?

Get out of my way or I swear to God,
I will blow your fucking head apart.

No.
You wouldn't do it in London

you're not gonna do it now, are you?

- Don't test me, boy.
- Look,

I'm sorry for what happened in London.
I'm sorry about that.

You're gonna have some
responsibility for that

because you're the one that brought me up
since I was a kid.

Yeah, too right I did.

In the words of the immortal Bard,

how sharper than a serpent's tooth
is the scorn of a thankless child.

Grateful is what you should be.

Without me, you'd be nothing.

No, it's because of you that I'm
a fucking arsehole! All right?

It's because of you
that I don't have any mates.

And I keep people at a distance
because you brought me up

to not give a shit about anyone
but myself.

So the only reason I am
the way I am is because of you.

But you know what?

Since I bumped into Fred

and I find out what it's like
to have a real mate in your life,

someone you care about,

it made me realize that you were full
of shit.

- You what?!
- Yeah, you heard.

You're wrong to think
that having mates around was bad for you.

And I was an idiot to listen to you.

Oh, no, no, no.
You're an idiot if you don't!

We're killers.
That's the way it has to be.

That's what it takes.

Is it what it takes, though?

I know weren't meant to have
a moral compass

and all that shit
but even killers need mates, right?

People that you care about,
you need family.

You need people that give
a shit about you.

I'll tell you what,
if you don't have that...

well, then you're gonna just be a
fucking miserable old bastard, aren't you?

Like you.

You're not gonna shoot me, Ray.

You're not gonna let Fred die either.

Get out here!

Cunt!

Nice speech.

How long you been workin' on it?

Since you threw me out of London.

Hand over that device in case
there's any more muppets after you.

On second thoughts,
just chuck it over here.

That was the only nice gift
my mamma ever gave me.

Yeah, I know.

That's what we have to protect in order
to keep Fred alive.

What a pile of wank.

Well, we better get this scrout back
to his mummy

and get our little finicky
bugger back, eh?

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

Now we can't send you back

to your old dear covered
in your own shit and claret can we now,

you abominable creature?

Get yourself cleaned up
and put on a fucking suit.

Ah, no, those are Fred's suits.

- Really?
- Fallon!

Shit... Siu-Ling.

Siu-Ling... You okay?

My head hurts.

What happened to that guy?

Oh!

It's a fucking horror show.
Did you do that?

Yeah... well, kind of.

Not bad. Not bad.

What happened to your face?

Be nice to your mum.

My mamma's going to be so angry
when she finds out how you treat me.

You and your assassin friends kicking me
around like a fucking football.

I reckon she'll be angry about the fact
that you shit yourself live on CCTV.

- I can show her the footage.
- You wouldn't dare.

Wouldn't I? Anyway, calm down.
Don't want you shitting yourself again.

We feared the worst
after we lost the signal.

Yeah, well, your little soldier
was a big boy and went potty, didn't you?

Can you please do something about him?
Look at the fucking state of me.

Since we are here, I presume you
have taken care of all our problems.

Hello. Hello? Can you hear me?

- Ciao Mamma.
- Ciao Dante.

- Well?
- Mamma!

Another word from you, figlio,
and I will take care of you myself.

I am sure that 9 million euros
would help me with my grief.

So?

Well, thanks to me, he's safe as houses
now we got rid of that tracking device

and those assassins have popped
their clogs.

- All of them?
- The ones we know about, yeah.

What about the others?

I can't worry about things we don't know
about yet, can I, you stupid berk?

I have to say I'm impressed, Mr. Fallon.

For a man who we only trusted to crash
a car or two,

you have truly outdone yourself.

So bravo to you, signore.

You know what?

Hearing you say
that makes everything worthwhile.

Sarcasm suits you, but your egotism
will be the death of you.

I'll be sure to see to that
if I ever see your face again.

- I've heard that one before.
- I do not doubt it.

How we doin', Finicky?

All right, Mike.

Nice weekend?

Not really, mate. No.

So... shall we get on with it?

What? What? What?
He just gets to leave, does he?

This fucking ape?

Yeah... He... he beat me like a dog.

He abused me, threatened to kill me.

Some pretty fucking terrible
things about you as well, by the way

Come on. Come on, Fred.

What are you lookin' at, you fucking pleb?

You're all right, mate? Yeah?

We'll call it a day then, yeah?

We had an agreement which I'll honor,
but show me the respect I deserve.

Leave this island and go and play
with your little mishaps elsewhere.

Be happy to.

Come on, Fred.

What? That's it, is it?
You gonna let him walk away?

Yeah, yeah, bye, you fucking twat!

Mamma.

Ray? What you doin' here?

- Did you get my note?
- Yeah, he got the note.

Glad to see you made an effort, Fred.
Anyway, first things first.

Let's see if your Savile Row skills
are up to scratch, shall we?

Oh, is this one of mine?

Fuck you!

- Yes!
- I don't believe that!

I told you it'd work.

Mate, I thought it was a crap idea
but that scored like bleedin' Beckham.

I'll never doubt you again, buddy.

- Not just a hat rack, eh, Mike?
- No mate.

All right, get in lads. Get in.

And then she fell off her barstool.

Hey, Fred,
there is someone here to see you.

It's me, Leylo.

Is that really you, Fred?

Oh, my dear, sweet Fred. Come here.

Fuck me sideways.

So Fred finally met the love of his life
and they lived happily ever after.

Ha-ha, did they? Bollocks.

It lasted about a fortnight

and when she realized Fred
was a stone cold killer, she scarpered.

He got over it, though.

Big Ray decided
to put his differences aside

and with the 9 million
from the Zuuzer job,

we parlayed that into a new outfit
and the world was our oyster.

So it was on to the next chapter,

which for a guy like me,
is probably gonna be a fuckin belter.

Flamingo! Flamingo!

Cunt!

Quiet!

This isn't very good news for you.