All language subtitles for R.O.T.O.R..1987.1080p.BluRay.x264-[YTS.AG]-eng

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Hey, everybody, it's five minutes before
the big hour of 5:00 here on Frantic Friday.

We're rockin' and rollin'
and shootin' those big 45s

at KROK FM Drive at hometime.

Everybody's crowding
out of downtown big D,

so let's go to our KROK guy
in the sky, Doug Doogan,

tune into Power 106FM KROK chopper!

Hey, Doug, what's it looking like
from up there?

Hey, big buddy, things are
getting pretty jammed up down there.

75 Central Expressway
is backed up all the way to LBJ

and I-35 northbound is packed

because everybody who is anybody
is headed toward the lake.

This is Doug Doogan,

and that's the whirly bird's-eye view
of the K-Wreck report.

Drive carefully, Dallas, and have a...

I hope I brought enough food
for this weekend.

I'm really looking forward
to relaxing on the lake.

I'm not worried, you always
bring enough food for an army.

I'm leaving all my troubles at the office.

No phone, no work,

just a quiet, peaceful weekend
at the lake.

Paul, what's that?

What the hell?

Call the police.

Paul, call 911.

You bet.

Call 'em. This ol' boy
just killed a motorcycle cop.

I seen him.

-Switchboard.
-Yeah, give me the police, please.

Police department. Name, please.

This is Paul Loftus.

What's your location, sir?

I'm at Lake Dallas
at, uh, Cane's Fishing Lodge.

What's the nature of your problem, sir?

I think there's been a murder.

Captain Coldyron, Detective Glorioso.

This here is Detective Grotes
with the division.

Are you ready, sir?

We're going into the division
on this, Captain.

Lean back and relax, sir.
You'll shower and shave downtown.

It's gonna be a long night.

Buckle up for safety, sir.

Sure, you bet.

My name is Coldyron, Barrett Coldyron.

I'm a Captain
with the Dallas Police Department,

in charge of their tactical operations lab.

Two days ago, I was considered
one of the leaders

in the field of police robotics.

Today, I'm thought of as a modern-day
Dr. Frankenstein.

My objective was pure enough,

to make the streets of the city
a little safer,

where gangs of punks, dope dealers,
and the rest of society's scum

could be effectively controlled
and hopefully eradicated.

A controlled army of police robots
could stop the slaughter

of the hundreds of policemen
who sacrificed their lives every year

in the protection of those they serve.

But how do you stop
a killing machine gone berserk,

with only a go button and no compassion?

This battle may have been lost,
but the war continues.

There's just too much at stake
to give up now.

A way must be found
to protect society from itself.

Still another chance.

Maybe it can be done.

Just maybe.

Sir?

Uh, yes, sir.

We can gain entry
into every classified paper

in the tactical operations lab,
Dr. Coldyron.

We'd rather get it from you, though.

Make no mistake,
we will do so in any event.

Talk or not.

You know that this isn't
an official debriefing.

Officially not an arrest questioning.

Then, please state so for the record,
Doctor... unofficially.

Officially.

Officially.

For the record?

Or for the mayor?

Or the division commander?

Or about 12 other high-crotched Federales,

perched behind a two-way mirror?

Last Thursday,
my life was a hell of a lot simpler.

The day started
just like any other day.

The fresh October morning breeze
blew across the ranch,

the cattle were coming in
for the morning feeding,

and a buttery morning sunlight

painted a golden glow
through the ranch house windows.

If I'd known then
what was about to happen,

I'd have never crawled out of bed.

Clearing these stumps for pasture land

has always been a chore.

In the past,
I've always used nitro or dynamite,

but this new primer chord explosive
lets me practice my rope,

and, at the same time,
it blows the stumps away.

Hm, guess I'd better go back
to straight nitro.

Hello.

Barrett?
Am I on that stupid squawk box?

Hi, darling. Can you hear me?

Like you're in a shower stall.

No, shaving. You working today, babe?

-Give me a reason.
-Money.

Oh, marry me, and I won't need money.

Two can live as cheap as one

if one doesn't eat.

Speaking of which,
if you're a good girl and go to work,

I'll cook the steaks at your place tonight.

The perfect reason.
Call me from the lab.

I love you.

I love you, too, Penny. Bye.

Ten years ago,

when I founded the Dallas Police
Tactical Operations Lab,

our objective was to research,
develop, and construct

the nation's first
invincible police force.

Even though we've made
incredible advancements,

sometimes it's hard
to tell the boys from the toys.

-Good morning, sir.
-Good morning.

The research team
from our sister facility in L.A.

is here today to sit in on a demonstration
of the new IA-1138 endo-chassis.

Good. Say, you know, I hope they brought

the hydrogenated wheat germ
and desiccated liver this time.

You just can't get it anywhere like in L.A.

Um, wheat germ
and desiccated liver, sir? What for?

For my handball game, son.

Keen reflexes, super endurance.

Oh, yes, sir.

-Don't ask stupid questions.
-Yeah.

Handball, phew.

Huh, I got your handball game
right here, pal.

-12:00 for lunch. Now, you be there.
-I'll be there.

-Good morning, Captain Coldyron.
-Good morning.

-How are you doing?
-Great.

Whatever you say.

Say, Hayley, why don't you hit me
with those seven digits for a date?

-Would you?
-All right, I'm coming.

Good morning, everyone.

Welcome back to big D and DPD's

Tactical Operations Research and Development.

I won't bore you with re-chewed details,

but since we're officially
on the record this morning,

let me quickly recap our charter.

We scientists are like degreed
science-fiction writers.

We're all prognosticators of the future.

And since our particular purpose of vision

belongs to the creed of law enforcement,

we open in-roads into tomorrow
in ways and means

of those who would serve and protect
justice and order.

As you know, it's all my fault
that for the past three and a half years

our public benefactors have channeled funds

into this development project.

Dr. Bryan, Wilson Institute of Hawthorne.

Is this what your research
has led up to? A tin marionette?

Not quite. Another scientist,
Dr. Steele from Houston,

developed a super technology

constructed combat chassis
out of an alloy.

An unknown alloy,
simply given an obscure number.

I'm Dr. Carl, also from Wilson.

What's your intent
with some little known alloy?

Is there some good vibration
to its molecular tonality

you can utilize?

Exactly. Watch.

Dr. Michael of East-West Test Center.

The chassis, how can it animate
without gears or motors?

I mean, I get around, but I've
never seen anything like this.

This combat chassis has been issued
a prime directive, Doctor.

Dr. Alan, Jargon University of Malibu.

Are you saying this thing could do
anything from aerobics to tai chi?

Right, it can do karate
to full-field combat.

Uh, Dr. Bruce, Johnston Labs, Zuma Beach.

God only knows this is spectacular,

but what exactly
are we dealing with here?

Molecular memory and learning.
All it needs is a supply.

A current of electricity as a catalyst.

An inducer, simulative brain impulse.

In this case, a command.

The metal itself has already been
taught the aerobic movement

by the particular electrical impulse

of the induced corresponding command.

Then the molecules move the chassis
into the remembered posture.

The metal itself can learn,
remember, and teach itself.

It doesn't need motors, gears, and tubes.

Just a flat place to stand
and a lever that's long enough,

and it can move the world.

Well, who are we who create such a thing?

Heroes and villains?

The only difference
between a hero and a villain

is the amount of compensation
they take for their services.

At our pay scale, I'd say we're heroes.

What are you planning,
high-tech rock 'n' roll

to the rescue of the civil law and order?

You're on my wavelength, and you're right.

And I've already wondered if our creation

is gonna rescue society or destroy it.

I think Dr. Frankenstein
must have felt the same way.

He was full
of fine intentions himself, you know.

Only he tried to harness death,
and we're trying to harness life.

Either we control society
or it destroys itself.

And next year, same time, same place,

if you'll be our guests again,

you'll see the product
of the next phase of evolution.

25 years from now,
if you'll come next fall,

what you'll see will be the only thing

that stands between humanity and itself.

Remember, mankind is bent on genocide,

self-extermination.

I will show you the only remedy.

Dr. Coldyron, urgent phone call
for you in your office.

It's division command, Buglar.

Priority, line one.

Bad, as usual?

Worse than that.
He's swelled up like a poison toad.

Hm, the man hasn't had a decent
bowel movement in a week.

I told him to lay off that home cooking.

The man was 39 years old

before he discovered gravy
wasn't a beverage.

Commander, how nice to hear your voice.

Let's not spar
with the social amenities, Coldyron,

and say we did.

Now, down to business.

Do you know who called me
at 5:00 a.m. this morning?

Well, I'll tell you who, Doctor.

Our benefactor, your meal ticket,

Mr. Free Ride, as you must think of him.

The grim reaper, as I think of him,

Senator Donald D. Douglas.

The man who gave you the shovel
you've been digging up graves with,

my friend.

Do you know what he wanted to know?

He wanted a progress report on your project.

And do you know what I said?

Look, Commander Buglar, Earl,
I know what you're gonna say.

No. No, you don't here, Doctor.

No, I lied to the senator and said
everything was right on schedule.

See, I had to lie to him

because from day one,
you cut me out of it.

You've hated me. You thought I was
nothing but a stupid paper jerker,

a peasant.

Well, I don't know how you're doing,
so I said everything is fine.

Fine, fine, fine!

Then he got cross with me, Barrett,
quite cross,

and said, "No, Commander,
things are ahead of schedule",

way ahead.

In fact, we're close to fruition.

"We're going to have product in 60 days."

Product?
Well, what the hell are you trying...?

You know what I told him?

I said 60 days is impossible.

Maybe 60 months.

-Do you know what he called me?
-What?

Private citizen.

-And do you know why?
-Why?

Because he can make me
a private citizen in 60 seconds!

Now, why would he do that?

For the same reason a dog licks itself,
boy, because it can.

And because he's got a hold of me
in the same place.

And you have any idea why?

No, you don't,

because you're a lab jockey,
and I'm a politician.

Well, let me lay it out
plain for you, son.

The senator found himself
a holy grail three and a half years ago.

That grail can make him king.

Your project, your dream,
that's his holy grail.

He's skimmed millions
from here and there

and gave it to the mayor.

The mayor took a slice
and gave it to me.

I took my cut, and it went down
through half a dozen middle people,

and you got what was left
for your great quest.

Am I getting through to you, cowboy?

Yes, sir.

Election's coming up in six months.

With product of your research,
he'll take public credit,

and he'll use it to catapult himself
into the White House.

So, Doctor, I'm not asking for product.

I'm delivering the command.
60 days.

And if there isn't product by then?

Then the mayor, myself,
six other high political figures,

and, oh, yeah, yourself as well,

all go to the state penitentiary

for misappropriation
of state and federal funds.

And your holy grail,

well, that gets turned
into a public urinal,

with your name printed
on a target at the bottom.

It... it isn't ready.

Four years from now, maybe the prototype.

-Any sooner...
-You work for me, Coldyron.

And you get it done.

That's about as far
as you're gonna stick it, Earl.

You may be so crooked
you got to screw your head on.

But you're not pulling my strings.

No, Coldyron, I'm pulling your plug.

You're off the project as of right now.

Let me tell you something, Mister.

You fire me, and I'll make more noise

than two skeletons making love
in a tin coffin, brother.

You bastard!

Yeah, by accident of birth, Earl.

But you, you're a self-made man.

I quit. You run the project yourself,
and good luck.

Who's your second-in-command?

Doctor Houghtaling, my assistant.

Give him the keys,

and don't let the door hit you
in the ass on your way out.

Phew, phew, ham'.!

Oh, uh, hey, Captain Coldyron, sir.

I need to get you down
to the arrange and qualify.

It's that time again.

What's that, Statum?

You want me to go out
and shoot targets now?

After the range, you're getting
in my face about this, Statum?

Right now, is that what you want?
Huh?

No, forget it.

I'll just write it in, sir.
No need to bother.

Uh, I'll just send over
another sharpshooter medal.

That's all, sir.

Sorry, sir. Thanks!

Sorry.

-What's up, sir?
-I got to get out of here.

Buglar just jumped down my throat.

-Why, sir?
-Because he can!

Sir, what are you doing?

I'm giving you the keys.

Keys to what, sir?

The holy grail, Houghtaling.

Ahem, uh, priority line, Houghtaling.

Uh, it's the division commander,
and it's for you.

Oh, boy-

Baroney's Investments, Miss Gayle.
May I help you?

-Penny, it's me.
-Hi, you.

Yeah, hi.

Oh, no, don't even talk to me
unless you've had a nice day.

-Take off work.
-Give me a reason.

I quit.

Meet you in 20 minutes, at Crocketts.

Judy, I'm out to lunch.

So, um, what did
Division Commander Buglar say?

Coldyron's fired.

I'm Project Chief now.
Uh-huh.

I got 60 days.

60 days to what?

Well, to deliver product.

That's... that's impossible.
It can't be done!

Well, what if...
What if you don't deliver?

Then, you're Project Chief.

Oh.

You, uh...
You gonna finish those fries?

Houghtaling, it's not that one.
It's the index file.

Would you shut up, will you?
Just shut up.

Hold it, all right?

Now, I can't run
a sequential circuitry test

without the impulse feed chain.

Coldyron, this is your monster.

We'll never figure this out.

-Wait, Willard.
-Huh.

Punch in all the impulse codes.

That'll activate the chain,

and we can go down to the tank
and trace the circuits by hand.

-What do you say?
-Yeah, cool.

Well, uh, I guess, you know,

as long as there's no current
in the chain, it's okay,

but we got to keep this room locked
until we get back.

I mean, my God, if somebody just...

Never mind that.

What do you think this is,
some low-budget Sci-Fi flick?

I mean, what can possibly happen,
Willard?

Well, uh, you know, for one thing...

I said, never mind that.
That's negative thinking.

Think positive.

Yeah, well, I think we're
positively crazy for even trying this.

O“: Keepers!

Alan? Alan?

All we have to do
is crank it up for the media.

I mean, let it spin across the room
for the cameras.

We've got 60 days.

And we've assisted Coldyron
a dozen times.

I just knew it.
I'm gonna end up Project Chief.

Say, baby, slide me them seven digits.

The phone number, Momma.

You've got to give up the phone number.

Hey, baby, look,
I got my bad self up in your face,

and you're looking everywhere but here.

You think you're bad or something?
Another white supremacist?

Shoeboogie, you're, like, going too far.

Another pale face grinding his heel
in a poor Indian's face!

I thank God my sainted ancestors

gone off to the happy hunting grounds,

ain't around to see this.

-This racism.
-You're not an Indian.

Look at these cheek bones, baby.

Either I'm an Indian or I'm a sissy.

And, well, since...
I must be an Indian.

Don't you, like,
have some mopping to do?

Yo, love,
I'll prove to you I'm Indian.

Instant Indian lore.

My people were red-hand Apache.

We had a custom.
It's called the blood eagle.

When a war chief captures an enemy
warrior that he really respects,

he lets him choose the way
he wants to be executed.

Oh, gross, quit it.
Go somewhere else.

Yo, Betty, listen. I learned this stuff.

You see, if that warrior wanted
to prove how brave he really was,

he'd ask to die by the blood eagle.

Okay, I'll ask.

Gross me out,
what is the blood eagle?

Check it out.

Well, the warrior,
he lays on the ground,

and they tie ropes to his arms
and his legs,

and the other ends of the ropes
they tie to four different horses.

And they slap the horses on the behind,

and they run
in four different directions.

And, well, the guy, you know...

That's sickening!
That's it!

Okay, that's cool.

'Cause, like I said, once you go red,
you never get out of bed.

My tunes!

Guts to have my tunes.

Son of a bitch!

Hey, what up, dude?

Looks cool as blue steel to me.

That was 99 cents worth of batteries
shot in the behind.

Somebody owes me $3.99.

Somebody in this mad doctor place
got some trouble coming from me.

You don't mess around
with we the people.

We the people get pissed off.

How long before the steaks are ready?

Mmm, 20 minutes.

Oh, I forgot I used all the charcoal
last week.

I want to get out of these clothes,
and I'd hate to go back out.

Oh, lady, you got some
bargaining position.

I'll marinate the meat
and make the salad

if you go to the mini-mart.

Hm, I reckon you got a bargain.

Sure, we're partners.

Oh, yuck.

Never a black eye around
when you got a steak.

Be right back.

Okay, bye'

Willard.

Oh, Willard.

Hm, hm, what?

Willard, we have an impulse feed
coming in with the chain.

Where is it coming from?

Where is it coming from?
Worse than that, where is it going to?

Change a dollar?

Get out of my face, asshole!

Look, dirtwad, I'm gonna walk
back over to my car,

I'm gonna call your license in
to the cops,

but if you can give me change
for a dollar,

that's gonna give you
about 30 extra seconds

before I call you in.

Comprende, bro?

Take it easy, take it easy,
and nobody will get hurt.

The car!
Where's the car?

Blondie, what'd you do?

Easy freezy.

Okay, white boy, you get to watch...

You get to watch me blow her brains up

and splatter all over the ground.

Well, what are you gonna do?

You gonna stop me?

All you got is a newspaper.

I got more than a newspaper,
and you get to guess what it is.

Oh!

Que P350? Que...
Que paso?

Hey, lady, you want a job?

I'm fine.

Absolutely.

Me too, hun.

In a few minutes.

I know.

Sure.

See you.

Captain.

Just fill in all the right places,
and I'll sign it for you.

And since you're going into trouble...
So, why don't you go on home?

Thanks a lot, Mokie.

I really appreciate you covering for me.

It's been a long day.
Just doesn't want to seem to end.

There you go.

So, don't use that next time.

Statum and his boys
don't like picking up bodies

with a pauper scooper.

I don't like it even more.
Thanks, again.

No problem.

So, Captain...

Want you to know,
you've done the right thing.

But you ain't no street cop, are you?

Why don't you go back to your nice,
little laboratory and stay there?

You're right, Mokie.

You let us boys handle the streets.

Handle the test tubes, huh?

Sure.

'Cause if I don't handle
the test tubes,

the streets are gonna
eat you boys alive.

Teeth, hair, and eyeballs.

Hm, hm.

I don't get it. Everything where...
Where the battery pack is...

it's inoperative.

Yeah, I know, all the batteries

in the storage generators
and energy transmitter, they're empty.

They're all drained.

What's going on?

You don't think...?

Uh, no. Oh, no.
No, no, I don't wanna think, no.

So, look.

How you doing, bro?

Hm, he looks okay to me.

Come on, we've got lots of work to do.

One of these days,
I'm going to quit this job.

Excuse me, can I get you to sign
up for the policemen's ball?

Hey, what's the matter with you,
buddy?

Get your pecker caught
in the plumbing this morning?

I oughta jack you UP-

Spit and polish, academy snot.

God save us all!

Willard, what do you think
drained all the energy packs

down in the vault?

Oh, jeez, I don't know.

You know what I thought,
but, no, nothing was out of place.

I might as well shut everything down
and pull the plug in the vault.

We wouldn't want some sort of accident.

Yeah, I got the feeling
this is how Terminator got started.

I'm going to work after the honeymoon.

That's all there is to it.

What do you mean?

Go to what work?

All you've ever done is go to school.

And there aren't many jobs
where you can go to class,

take tests, and go to frat parties.

Well, what are you saying?

Just 'cause I'm getting married,
my life is over before it even starts?

Of course not, Sony.

Hey, honey, it's just embarrassing
for a guy to have his wife work.

-Thank you.
-Don't mention it.

Better not.

You know what it is?

It's the wedding.

-I mean, that's what's wrong with us.
-Look, I want a wedding.

And just because you've already
gone through with it,

doesn't mean that I've...

It's a barbaric ritual!

I mean, the sacrificial virgin.
It's heathen.

-It's sweet.
-It's dragging us out, Sony.

Look, it took three weeks
to get this shower together tonight.

And look at you.

You look like you got both eyes
coming out of the same hole.

I'm going to work after the honeymoon.

Okay, I'll make you a deal, okay?

Hey.
'Hey, what?

Elope with me tonight, huh?

And, uh, I'll help you get a job
after the honeymoon.

Oh, it's 2:00 a.m. I'm starving.

You ate at the shower.

That was five hours ago.

Hey, you want to go to the IHOP?
Huh?

I mean, I gotta check the tranny anyway.

You were gonna lose ten pounds
before the wedding.

Five pounds, Sony. Five!

Gregory, slow down.

That's it, Greg Hutchins,

you stop this car right now,
and you let me out.

You want out?
There's out!

Out of the car, out of the relationship,

as far out as you want to go!

It's okay, honey. It's a police officer.

Police officer this far out of town?
Hm.

Excuse me, Officer?

I was just telling my girlfriend here,

you guys are really cleaning up
the undesirables in this neighborhood.

You crossed the force.

A restricted grid at an illegal speed.

You guys are tough.

In fact, uh, I'm willing to bet you,
uh, 20 bucks

that you're gonna give me a ticket.

Hey, hey, what are you doing?
Hey, hey!

Greg!

What's happening?

Greg...

Greg.

What do they want with us?

What's happening?

This can't be right.

There's got to be a mistake.
This can't be right.

I got to talk. I got to talk.

I got to talk this thing over.

Dallas Police Department.

Captain Coldyron, my beeper.

Hello, Captain Coldyron.

This is Detective Sergeant John Mango.

Sir, we've got a homicide.

Sheriff's department
found a police name tag

in the victim's hand.

We fed the name into the computer,

and it came up
Tactical Operations Lab,

Captain J.B. Coldyron, room 222.

Can you give us some information, sir?

Sergeant Mango, sit on this.

Take no action. Affirmative?

Affirmative.

Operator.

Please, you got to help me,
I'm being ch...

Get me the sheriff of highway patrol.

Please hold.
I'll connect you to the Sheriff.

Sheriff's office.
Name, please?

Sony. Sonia R. Garren.

Look. You've got to help me.

There's been a murder.

A motorcycle patrolman
is trying to kill me next.

Hurry.

Ma 'am, are you okay?
Where are you?

Who is this?

Well, this is Deputy Walter Dean,
Ms. Garren.

Can you identify
the motorcycle patrolman?

No. I mean, yes, I can.
He's a crazy cop.

He killed my fiancé,
and he's gonna kill me next

if you don't get down here and help me!

For God's sake, will you help me?

Where are you, ma'am?

I don't know.

An old gas station off I-20 west.

Near exit 643, but I can't stay here.

Ma'am, you have got to stay there.

We're not allowed to move,

but I can get word
to the Dallas Police Department.

They're on this.
This is one of theirs.

Look, you don't understand.

He is behind me out there.

I can't stay here.
I have got to go.

All right, but you just tell us
which road and which direction.

State road 919, south.

Impossible! Impossible!

Duty?

Oh, God.

Project Chief Willard.

Willard, Coldyron.

What'd you do with ROTOR after
we programmed in prime directive?

Uh, Doctor Coldyron,
well, uh, sir... jeez, uh...

Well, his last orders were, uh...

Why, is there something wrong, sir?

What did you do after I left?

Oh, well, nothing much.
We, uh... We just tried a test.

What happened?

Uh, well, I don't know, really.

We... we followed
the test activation sequence.

Then we went down to do
a hand search on the relay wires,

and when we came back,

all the power packs in the room
were drained.

Drained?

-Yeah, well, drained.
-What drained them?

Now, sir,
I know what you're thinking.

I mean, I looked closely.
It was still there.

You looked in the tank, but you didn't
check the suspension readout.

On, no, why?

-ROTOR'S out.
-I see.

Well, sir, I'd like to take
this opportunity

to resign my position in the company and...

This is Captain Coldyron
calling Detective Mango, priority.

Captain Coldyron, John Mango.
I'm glad you called.

I found out we got a rogue cop out there.

Yes, sir. Deputy Sheriff Dean
just called from west of town.

A Sonia R. Garren called from the road.

She said a motorcycle patrolman
shot her fiancé and is after her now.

What'd you tell her?

To keep moving until DPD got to her.

Good. Nobody move till you hear from me.

-Buglar.
-Coldyron.

Damn it, Coldyron, what do you want?

You got your wish, 59 days soon.

I just hope you can handle it.

What are you raving about, man?

You wanted product, you got product.

-It's already killed once.
-What?

ROTOR.

The men you put in charge,
they activated it.

It went out, put itself on active duty.

Its last program was prime directive.

Shut up, Coldyron.

Prime directive in 25-50 years from now.

Prime directive to our ROTOR unit
is judge and execute.

It stops felons, judges the crime,
and executes sentence.

Justice served, COD.

Not another word!

You call the Senator, and you tell him

ROTOR walked through a busload of nuns

to get to a jaywalker
with malice towards no one.

It won't stop.

It wasn't ready.
Its brain functions are incomplete.

It can't think twice, can't reason,
can't change its prime directive.

It's like a chainsaw set on frappé.

If, Coldyron, you've had one
of your experiments go out of control,

well, I suggest you reconsider
your resignation

and save your own ass
before the Senator finds out.

All right, Buglar. I'll go get him.

And when I bring him back,

I'm ramming him
right down City Hall's throat.

ROTOR is not my problem.

You're right, Buglar.

I'm your problem.

Hi.

Sorry about the TV.

We got to keep it on
until after the homecoming.

Can I get you some hot coffee?

Hm, coffee...
Yeah, sure.

-Cream and sugar with that, ma'am?
-Yeah.

It's Captain Coldyron
calling Detective Mango, emergency.

John Mango.

Sonia R. Garren, where is she?

I'm gonna bring her in... alone.

Hey, you can't come in here
like that!

Hey, little lady, what's the deal here?

-Out of my way!
-This guy giving you a problem?

Hey, faggot city cop, you ain't got
shit around here, bud.

How about a real man, asshole?

Oh, my God! Are you all right?

Psst, hey, come on over here!

Come on!

Right down there. Go through
that little trap door, right there.

Stay away from the glass.
Get back, he's dangerous.

What's your problem, bud?

Get out of here. Leave me alone!

Please, help me.

Come on up here. You'll be okay.

Just sit right there, honey.

Hey, you! Pull that trigger,
and they're gonna be picking up

little bitty pieces of blue pig shit
all over the parking lot.

Son of a bitch!

Breaker, breaker.

Sonia Garren.

Come in.

Come in, Sonia.

Who is this?

Sonia Gerran, the '86 Impulse?

Yeah, yeah, who is this?

-Are you all right, Sonia?
-Yes!

This is Captain Barrett Coldyron.

I just pulled into the gas station
in the Isuzu Trooper.

I've been trying to find you.

Before the motorcycle cop
caught up to you...

Oh, God.

Eat this, you alloy son of a bitch!

What's happening? What's going on?

Sonia, he's after you.

I think I crippled him, at least his ride.

Listen to me.

The cop's name is ROTOR.

He's gone renegade. Keep moving.

Don't go home. Don't stop for help.
Just keep moving.

I'm going for help.

I'll be gone, I don't know...
a few hours.

Can you keep moving until I get back?

I have to stop him,
and you have to be the bait.

Can you do it?

Yeah, maybe.

Help me, Sonia.

Help me help you.

This thing, ROTOR, is on a rampage.

If he stays after you, he won't go off
on a killing spree. All right?

Wait a minute, what are you talking about?

Is that thing...

Hey, what do you mean?
Answer me!

Meet me. Do you know Lake Dallas?

Any of the fishing camps out there?

I don't know any of the fishing camps.

I know some of the roads
up at the fishing camps.

Good. There's a big sign
that says Cane's Fishing Lodge.

On the left, yeah.

Okay, now, listen close.

Meet me there at 4:00 p.m.
Can you do it?

Get this son of a bitch
away from me, Captain.

Hang on, Sonia!

Operator.

I'd like to make a call to Houston, Texas.

Area code 713.

Welcome to the machine.

Leave the name, leave the number,

if you know what's good for you.

If this is Doctor Corrine Steele,

I'm Barrett Coldyron.

It's 5:45 a.m.

We've never met, but I need you.

I'll wait at the American Airlines
ticket counter in Dallas

until you get here.

ROTOR is out.

Well, hey, Officer,

there's an on/off switch
on that radio, you know?

Whoa! Please, don't!

Oh, jeez!
Don't fail me now!

Woo! God, dang!

American Airlines
now deplaning flight 643

from Los Angeles at gate number 22B.

American Airlines...

I'm sorry we finally got
to meet like this, Dr. Steele.

I feel like old friends meeting again.

You know,
we got to know each other's papers

in mathematics pretty well.

Your designs for the combat chassis
are the most brilliant I've ever seen.

It was nothing
without your own brain matrix.

He's out there.

We made him, and he's doing
what he made him for.

In science, there's no room
for human error.

There's no place for it in law.

We built the perfect lawman.

One who could walk into the streets
of blood, the cities of fire,

the edge of destruction,

and function perfectly, again and again.

And already, look what's happened.
Human error.

Now, I've got to bring him back in.

You know it's impossible, don't you?

Yeah, maybe.

-Except for this.
-The deactivation key?

Come on.

Yeah, well, maybe like you said,
impossible, but...

Let me ask you something, Steele.

Can we bring him in?

You got the key.

I've done my homework already.

Let me ask you something.
Can he be stopped?

I don't know.

When I stack 'em, they stay stacked.

Yes. Thank you for calling
Lincoln Hotel.

Good morning. Welcome to Lincoln Hotel.

May I check for your reservation?

Steele, C.R. Steele.

We're not knocking over
tin cans here. This is reality.

Doctor Steele. Yes, room 222.

-Great.
-What?

-That's his badge number.
-Superstitious, huh?

Could I have another room?

There's no sense tempting reality
too darn much.

Remember what I said at ROTOR'S christening?

First prototype of a future battalion.

On the battlefield highways of the future,

he'll be the judge, jury,
and executioner.

Now I've got to wonder,
were we playing God

breathing life
into our artificial Adam?

Or have we lost sight of paradise?

What was it Newton said?

Did I request the, Maker, from my clay
to mold me man?

Did I solicit thee from darkness
to promote me?

Is it his fault he is what he is,
or is it ours?

Well, either way, he's out there now.

25 years too soon.

Let's go get him.

Clear the way, please!
Clear the way!

We're cut off. No backing, no backup.

I don't know what's happening,
except for this.

I know he's not on an ongoing program.

Something in the molecular memory
of the chassis alloy,

it's affecting the brain matrix.

-How so?
-He's programming himself.

He's got more potential
than we ever dreamed.

Oh, God. The brain matrix,

it's modeled after your own
lower brain functions,

without the higher functions
to control them.

A brain without a heart.

A conscious without recognition.

A will without a soul.

If I miss, you'll be fighting
your own base instincts.

To combat pure will,
you'll have to use pure illogic.

What do you mean?

You will have to allow yourself to fail.

Use your failure against him.

Your failure is his failure.

Your weakness is his weakness.

Then, only then, can you do something.

Great, except I don't know
what any of that means.

Let's hope you never have to find out.

Remember, you're the brains,
I'm just the brawn.

Sure.

I can pick him up now and then
on the trace monitor.

Probably when he's having
power surges.

He's draining constantly.

I got a theory.

What if I force
his substructure plates apart?

If you got that close,
you could use the key.

If I got that close,

finding the keyhole would be
the last thing on my mind.

Come on, what if?

It would cause a power surge.

His inner electrical current
would surge to the surface, draw off.

Right there, you'd get the full charge.

What if I got that close?

Could work, but don't get that close.

Here's the story.

The girl, Sonia Gerran,
somehow got in his way.

I don't know, ran a stop sign or something.

ROTOR killed her boyfriend.

She ran.

The robot is programmed to chase.

I caught up to her last night.
She's okay. She's resourceful.

Been driving ever since,
keeping him occupied tracking her.

My God, what have we done?

I wish I knew.

Come on, Mr. Coldyron.
I'm here, he's here.

Where in the hell are you?

There it is, on the screen.

Power surge. We've got him!

All right, let's get off the road

and go cross country from here.

You don't happen to know
any good Indian trackers, do you?

Used to spend every summer
on the Indian reservation.

Will I do?

I'm like a cemetery.
I'll take anybody.

-Don't step in that.
-Okay.

Shit!

-Look here.
-Is it his?

Well, it ain't Pee-Wee Herman's.

You've been accused of being an accomplice
in a major traffic violation.

Oh, God, make it a dream.

I am ROTOR.

You are guilty.

Get away from me!

-Guilty.
-You're insane!

All right. Don't move, now, Sonia.

We've got him, okay?

I hope.

ROTOR'.!

ROTOR'.!

This concludes the drill.

That's all for today.

Mm.

Throw me that bag!

Hurry!

Buy me one more minute.

Sony, help me! Tie the primer cord off!

Coldyron, watch!

Sony, get in the Trooper!

Get ready to back it off
and take up the slack!

Come on, you monster!

What's the matter,
using my brain to think with?

You think I'd set you up?

Enough!

Do you understand? I said, no more!

Enough! No more!

Come on! Damn you, you bastard!

I give up!

You hear me? I give up!

The robot's electric discharge
is gonna detonate the fiber cord!

For Christ sake, get down!

We all got plenty of time

to figure out what this means
to each one of us.

I'm gonna leave my report
in my office.

After that, I got a ranch,
I got a horse, I got a pretty girl.

And, like you, I got a future.

One day at a time.

Justice served. COD.

" To Mr. Brett Coldyron,"

Oxford University Science Department.

Dear Brett, we are sorry to inform you

of the sudden and tragic death
of your uncle Barrett C. Coldyron.

Heroically, he gave his life
in the line of duty.

As you were his only heir,
his papers and personal effects

will be forwarded to you.

Again, we deeply regret the loss
of your uncle and share your grief.

Sincere condolences, Earl G. Buglar,

"Division Commander,
Dallas Police Department."

The journal of Brett Coldyron,
11-13-87.

Six weeks later, I received
my late uncle's journals

along with a substantial
cash inheritance.

In his last notes
about the ROTOR incident,

my uncle wrote,

'I hope we'll learn
not to fear our technologies,

but to fear the people who use them.'

I personally feel that when he created
the perfect police combat unit,

he deleted a very special quality
law enforcement was founded on,

human mercy.

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