Love can sometimes be beautiful.
Love can sometimes be dangerous.
But true love,
well, true love is lethal.
We've been through this before.
I've made up my mind.
What happened to the sanctity of marriage?
You made a vow.
I was a 19-year-old girl, Luke.
I'm not the same person I was ten years ago.
I love you, Lauren.
I love you, too,
but we've grown apart.
London, baby, haha.
Where the bitches at?
All we need to do is see a marriage counsellor.
That's all we need.
a little bit of therapy.
A marriage counsellor?
Fucking shit like that.
- When we first met, you were different. - -Different how?
More manly, more rugged.
Go fuck yourself.
You asked me. I told you.
You fucking feather your eyebrows, Luke.
You manicure and pedicure, you moisturise three times a day.
I married a man's man.
You show me someone who hasn't changed in ten years
and I'll show you someone who's wasted ten fucking years.
Hello, beautiful. Let me buy a drink.
Fuck off, mate.
Hey, listen, just having a quiet drink with a wife.
I was just offering to buy the lady a drink.
I didn't mean to cause any offense.
No offense taken.
Come on, Jackie. Let's get out of here, man.
The club's just around the corner. Let's go.
What about you, sweetie? Are you offended?
No.
It would take more than a tiny-dicked American gap year student
offering to buy me a drink to offend me, love.
- Tiny dicked? - Microscopic.
It's about average.
-What's so funny? -It's just...
it's a common fact that men always add two inches
when describing the length of their penis.
So judging by that statistic,
and with the average length of a man's manhood measuring
no more than 5.7 inches,
you have a three inch cock.
Or a three inch Johnson,
as you Yanks affectionately like to call it.
Three inches?
No, no. It's a little bigger than that.
Oh.
Ah.
Ah!
Life is a collection of individual moments.
Moments that can alter our lives in the blink of an eye.
This was a moment that would alter many lives around the world.
Luke Loveday was an office administrator
and his wife, or soon to be ex-wife, Lauren
was an estate agent at one of London's most reputable agencies.
- Quite why this seemingly nonviolent couple,
with no prior convictions, turned into the savage monsters
they became that night remains a mystery.
Was it Luke's pride wounded by the questioning
of his masculinity and the prospect of losing his wife?
Or was it Lauren's newly found growth and independence as a woman,
no longer the young 19-year-old girl
with daddy issues needing protecting from the world,
now a strong, powerful, well-read and intelligent force
who would not be intimidated by the world or anything in it?
Poor little Jackie was dead,
and a great man would seek his resurrection or revenge.
The words "great man"
are perhaps the most overused words of today.
It is with this overuse I hesitate to use the phrase to describe Michael Hero.
Michael was a great man in its truest,
purest, most sincere form.
You can tell the measure of a man
by how he treats someone who he has nothing to gain from.
Well, this was a millionaire with his own family
who adopted me as an abandoned orphan
and raised me like I was his own flesh and blood.
Michael lost the love of his life, his wife of 40 years,
Marianne Robinson.,
after a sudden and unexpected heart attack late last fall.
Every day, come rain or shine,
Michael and I would visit her grave and pay our respects.
Michael Hero was born into adverse poverty to immigrant parents,
a destitute stray armed with an insatiable resilience,
who went from an unwanted street urchin
to CEO of Liontari PLC,
one of the nation's largest blue chip corporations.
Work hard son, and someday,
-this will all be yours. -Oh, yeah.
Not too hard though, right dad?
The great Michael Hero,
armed with the work ethic of a starving orphan...
-It was a joke, dad. -...attempted to build a dynasty,
employing his son Paris to follow his path.
Oh, yeah.
Paris was an immediate disappointment to Michael.
No, it's medicinal.
Dad, it's medicinal.
Paris was not blessed with any of the same smarts
that were bestowed upon his great father.
Michael, perhaps ruthlessly,
dismissed his son, firing him and cutting him off the payroll.
Come on, Paris. Time to leave.
Where are we going?
Your father doesn't think this is working out.
You're firing me?
You're firing me.
Hey, fuck you! How about that? Fuck you!
Yeah, alright...
Alright.
I'll see you around, big man.
Charming.
Michael hoped that having to now face adversity
would mould him into the man he was.
Unfortunately, the attempt of tough love
backfired spectacularly
when Paris and a group of his foolish friends
hatched a plan to assassinate his father
and inherit the company and Michael's fortune.
Hey, Major. No, chill, chill.
Just chill, Chill. Hey, look, it's Paris.
It's just me, just a clown.
Paris had a son, Jackie,
born from a one night stand with a stripper named Unicorn,
also known as Catherine Gray, out of office hours.
But Jackie was different than his father Paris
and closer, perhaps, although only very slightly, to his grandfather.
I wish my dad was more like you , grandpa.
You can't be talking like that, Jackie.
Your father loves you very much.
In his own peculiar way.
Besides, you don't have to worry about a thing.
I will always take care of you.
But slightly was all Michael needed
and Michael worshiped Jackie like the son he never had.
That ' s my boy .
Lavishing him with cars, watches and trips abroad.
One of those trips ending on that tragic night in London.
I need vengeance, Danny.
Jackie's soul needs vengeance.
I am not strong enough to let my grandson's murder go unpunished.
The Major's been making arrangements all week.
I placed a one million dollar bounty
on the heads of those bastards that killed my boy Jackie.
Danny, my son,
tomorrow,
you and the Major
will meet with Don Salvatore Piazza of the Piazza family.
He and I briefly crossed paths in the 1980s.
He's an honourable and an honest man,
but he hails from an immoral and godless business.
A world the Major's more frequent in than you are,
remain silent and listen to him, assuming he knows much more than you do.
You are to act as the eyes
in the back of the Major's head.
Do you understand?
Anything for you, Papa.
Thank you, Danny.
Yeah?
I'll let Mr Hero know right away.
They were acquitted this morning on the grounds of...
self-defence.
But they killed my grandson.
When a great man is hurt,
all just and fair men suffer.
-Cheers, babe. -Cheers.
I fucking love you, Lauren.
-Do ya? -Yeah.
I fucking love you, too, Luke.
You whiny wanker.
What's wrong?
It's that boy.
We fucking killed him, babe.
I know and I keep thinking about him too, but...
I mean,
what's done is done.
Regret is only going to make us resentful.
Regret is a wasted emotion, it can just wear you down to a little tiny nib.
"And I wish I did this, I wish I did that."
It's useless. I mean, we don't have a time machine like Back to the Future .
I fucking love that movie.
There's no point living in the past,
No regrets,
-just lessons learned. -Babe.
Mm-hmm?
Do you still want a divorce?
No, you silly prick.
Come here.
Coleman Rose, known as the Major, was Michael's head of security,
an army major who was disillusioned by life without order
and fell foul to the bottle after completing his distinguished service.
Now, you shouldn't have any trouble ,
But that's not to say we let our guards down, not for a second.
Not around the Piazzas.
Michael saw his potential
and took him under his considerable wing.
The Piazza were one of the country's most violent, yet profitable crime families,
headed by Don Salvatore Piazza,
both sophisticated and brilliant,
but ruthless and apathetic in his business conduct.
Good evening, sirs.
I've been expecting you.
Good evening.
- Please, take a seat. - Thank you, sir.
Can I get you two a plate?
No, thank you.
How about some wine?
I'm a teetotal, I'm afraid.
No capisco , what's teetotal?
It means I don't drink.
-Makes me reckless. -Ah, I see.
Reckless.
That wonderful word I'm unfortunately familiar with,
for a reckless youth
makes for a rueful old age.
And I at times
find myself rueful of my reckless past.
I am most humbly and sincerely sorry for Michael.
He's a great man
and does not deserve such a tragic fortune.
No, he doesn't.
You see, Major,
Tragedy is for a man who's intoxicated with his own defeat.
Tragedy
is narcissistic
and a false form of loving yourself.
Tragedy can wear the most powerful man to a quivering,
egotistical mess.
But the great,
for the truly great among us,
they deal with tragedy like a virus that must be eradicated.
The great grow stronger
and greater from tragedy.
And I consider Michael Hero, a great man.
Italian wine,
the best.
I will send my best man.
Please send Don Hero my best.
His soul will be slightly soothed by the end of the week.
Thank you, sir.
Pasquale,
Put some music, a Tarantella.
Ah?
I want to dance.
Don Salvatore Piazza's best man
happened to be one of the most ruthless and feared assassins in the world.
A man who took pleasure in his profession.
A man known only as...
the Reaper.
As a gesture of respect to Michael, as well as an expression of gratitude,
for the contract during a difficult financial climate,
Don Piazza ordered the execution of Richard
for his failure to sufficiently protect Little Jackie.
Please don't shoot.
Richard...
please keep your dignity.
- So you say you still love me. - -Yeah.
-But are you still in love with me? -What's the difference?
Oi, has Piccalilli got calories in it?
Well, you can love a cat or dog,
but you can't be in love with a cat or dog.
Not unless you're slipping them the sausage
and that would be bestiality, I suppose.
-Bestiality? -Yeah, like Animal Farm .
George Orwell. That's about Russians and communism.
It's symbolic, babes.
You know what, those Russians really are filthy fuckers.
My cousin's Russian.
No!
The Reaper incident was a major embarrassment to Don Piazza.
He made an agreement with Michael, and like all men of honour,
he intended to keep it.
One million dollars.
The Don placed the contract on the open market.
News of the one million dollar bounty became public knowledge
in local underworld circles,
inevitably attracting some of London's most dangerous assassins,
gangsters and outlaws.
Don Salvatore.
No.
It's never a bad time for an old friend.
How can I help?
Paul Ali Rahman was a former drug dealing addict
who converted to Islam after being inspired by
radical fundamentalist cleric Abu Ali.
He left London and uprooted to Syria
to join with ISIS in their fight against the West.
Sorry.
Carry on.
I'm still listening.
Once ISIS fell, Paul was rendered stateless,
a wandering Ronin crossing illegal borders around the world.
Armed, trained and without any fear of death.
He would use his anonymity to his advantage,
forging a career as a gun for hire.
Yes.
I'm in.
Why not?
London's my manor.
Don Piazza would often distance himself from such situations,
using local outlaws to whom he had no previous association or connection,
like the methodical and ruthless Samson Slade.
Please, don't shoot me.
That's fucking original, you fucking nonce.
Hello?
Well, how can I help you?
Florence, Francesca and Fabiana Ferizi
were the daughters of deceased mob boss Fat John Ferizi,
inheriting every ounce of their once powerful father's lust for blood.
Beautiful, seductive and extremely dangerous.
Francesca's House of Fashion, how can I help you?
Is that your car?
Yes.
-You said you had a Ferrari. -A Ferrari as well.
Yes don't worry, we're going to have fun either way.
Yeah.
Now get the fuck out of here.
Fuck you then.
Oh. Uh huh, Uh huh.
Hello?
Finch 'Firestarter Franklin' was an explosives expert,
nicknamed Firestarter for obvious reasons.
The modern day hippie traded peace, love and harmony
for explosions, death, and money.
Don Piazza needed to make sure
there was no further stain of embarrassment on his reputation.
And making sure was John Salas,
a former British Royal Marine sniper
who served his nation proudly on four tours of duty in Iraq
and three tours in Syria.
He went AWOL from the army and became a mercenary for hire
to many of the world's leading criminal organisations and guerrilla fighters.
With the right wind trajectory and financial incentive,
John Salas could kill a man from over a mile away.
Don Piazza.
How may I be of service?
Valery and Justin's story began at a professional capacity
when Valery sought the services of an assassin
to take out her abusive ex-husband, Rotund Ricky Bell.
At the risk of sounding like a misogynist, is there a reason for the abuse?
A reason?
Were you fucking his best friend while he's at work?
That would be a reason.
I'm not a cheat, thank you very much.
Despite his violence towards you?
Till death do us part.
And you're sure you want this particular parting to happen?
Well, yeah. That's why I called you.
You got the money?
Sixty thousand?
That's the going rate.
-I got some. -Don't waste my fucking time.
-Are you married? -What? No.
Well, you got a sister?
Or a mother?
How would you feel if I was your mother?
Beaten daily for no more of a reason
than my so-called husband losing a bet at the race track.
Punched in the face for asking him if he was okay.
Having...
cigarettes put out on my arms because he didn't like my new hairstyle.
I like your hairstyle.
So you gonna help me or not?
I'll happily do it myself.
I just need you to show me how.
Valery, what the fuck are you doing here?
Who the fuck is this?
Now, Valery.
Oh, you ungrateful fucking whore!
I'll beat the fuck out of you!
After a shaky start,
Valery warmed to the task at hand,
and what followed was the birth of the greatest killers of their generation.
Justin?
Yes, my sweetheart?
Would you still love me if I was fat?
Of course, my buttercup,
- there would be more of you to love.
Oh, wait.
What if I was fat?
Would you still love me?
Justin,
there is nothing you can do
that will ever stop me loving you.
High ranking crime figures, prominent politicians
and other people in power became their prey.
And as their reputation grew,
so did their fee.
Valery and Justin Villain were the en vogue
hit men of choice for high society.
I love you, Valery.
I love you, Justin.
Erm...
Justin, I got to tell you something.
Whatever it is, the answer is I love you.
-No, this is serious. -So am I.
Well, what is it?
Er,
I...
I went to the doctor today,
-and I got the results back. -Right.
The headaches.
Everything okay?
It's bad.
How bad?
It's really bad.
What did they say?
The...
The doctor says I can't keep my promise.
I won't be able to give you a son.
I'm so sorry.
I've got...
I've got six months,
a year...
if I'm lucky.
I'm dying Justin.
And...
the part that makes me the most sad
is the fact that I'm never going to see you again.
-I'm never gonna see you again. -I love you.
Look at me.
I love you.
-I love you, Justin. -I love you.
It's a part of life, son.
We're all born to die.
You hold strong now.
If we're all born to die,
what's the point of being born?
What's the point?
To find your purpose in life.
Seek God, son.
He will help you find that purpose.
Then it's up to you
to carry the burden of that purpose.
God took away my purpose.
Stay strong, son.
May he be with you.
Exodus 21:14.
If a man come presumptuously upon his neighbour
to slay him with guile,
thou shalt take him from mine altar, that he may die.
Tragedy can be all consuming.
Tragedy is for a man who is intoxicated with his own defeat.
Some men, even powerful and deadly men,
cannot overcome tragedy and are consumed by its might.
When Justin Villain lost his wife, Valery, to cancer,
tragedy defeated him.
Motherfucker!
What?
How long they've been married?
Are they in love? What am I saying,
they been married ten years, of course they're in love.
So, in short,
he was protecting his wife's honour.
And now you want me to kill him and his wife?
Just so some old bastard
can live a few more years on this hell we call Earth.
Yeah, I'm on my way to London...
And if any son of a bitch harms a hair on Luke's or Lauren's head,
there will be hell to pay.
Hello, Justin?
Are you still there?
Let me talk to Valery if you are feeling unwell.
How many people you arrested then?
Not many.
Take your fucking hat off.
Sorry, sir.
Now then, you two.
We've reviewed the CCTV footage
and it seems...
to corroborate your stories.
Obviously.
So you're not under arrest this time, but...
I must warn you
that it seems...
that the gentleman
was a professional.
A professional...?
An assassin.
Probably revenge
for killing that Yank kid.
Thank you, officer.
Now's not the time for opinions, is it?
No,
I'm sorry, sir.
So, you-- you're going to protect us, right?
We can offer you very little in terms of protection at this time.
But,
if you do need help,
just dial nine, nine, nine,
and we'll have an emergency response team with you as soon as humanly possible.
- You're fucking pathetic. - What?
We don't need their help, we can go to my big brother.
No, no, not your brother.
So are we free to leave?
Yes.
I mean, we'll be in touch.
- Right. - Soon.
Come on, let's go.
Thank you so much.
Do you want to fucking lick their arses some more?
You try living with her.
Don't leave the country.
No.
Luke.
Lauren's brother Tony was once the British heavyweight boxing champion
who swapped his gloves for guns
when the ecstasy drug exploded onto the British rave scene like an atom bomb.
The time when fortunes were made and lives were lost.
Tony invested his profits wisely.
First, like any decent Cockney dreams,
bought his local pub and moved upstairs with his wife Doreen.
Oi, Tony!
Yeah I'm talking to you. You know I've been waiting 10 minutes for a drink
so you can kiss that old dog after you pulled me a drink,
alright, Mr. Landlord?
-You cheeky fucking cunt. -Yeah, whatever.
- Once the landlord novelty wore off... -Who's next, please?
...he hired a manager to run the pub and invested heavily
in London's then booming property trade,
still reaping the rewards today.
Tony had particular affection for Lauren, as their father, Jimmy
abandoned the family and migrated to sunny Spain with his daughter's
former babysitter, Bambi,
while Lauren was still in her early teens.
There she is, uglier than ever.
Oh, Tony, I missed you.
I missed you, too, darling.
-Hey Doreen. -Hi, Tony.
Come here you.
You don't get away without a cuddle.
-How are ya? -I'm good, Tony.
- Fuck me. - Yeah.
-Lukie I think you could do with a drink. -Yeah, right.
Let's get them in.
And you can tell me all about these foreign bastards.
Cheers, Governor.
Cheers.
Right...
we're decided then, yeah?
you two move into the pub
-and live with us. -Yes.
You let me protect my little sister like only your brother can.
Good girl.
What's that supposed to mean?
What?
Like only your brother can?
I can look after my own fucking wife, I'll have you know.
Can you not be so fucking rude Luke.
I'm just saying.
I ain't scared of no-one.
I demand respect.
R S P T. Respect.
I ain't scared of no-one, Tony.
I ain't fucking scared of you.
I...
am a man too.
Do you hear me? Huh?
Of course you are princess.
You wanna fuck with me? You wanna fuck with me?
Wha-- oh!
Come on.
Lets get Princess to bed before he hurts himself.
- For God's sake Luke. - -I ain't scared of you, Tony.
I know you're not, you're a big brave soldier, ain't you?
- I'm a man of the jungle.
Sorry, Tony. I love you.
With a tracking device installed on the Loveday's vehicle,
both Don Piazza and the would be assassins
would always be one step ahead of the unsuspecting duo.
Ballocks!
Get upstairs and pack a suitcase! We're going on the lamb.
- Let's get the fuck out of here. - What's the lamb?
Allahu Akbar.
Run!
You can run for now,
but you can't hide.
Fucking infidels!
I can't believe they shot my fucking brother.
Who knows what Tony done to them?
He was protecting us.
-They were after us, Luke, not him. -Don't be stupid.
Do you honestly think that crazy hippie guy was looking for us?
-Obviously Luke! -And what about the Islamist?
Ok we just need to go home and just get some supplies.
They found us at your brother's pub, they'll definitely find us at home
We'll just be really really quick.
Just go and get some clothes, get our cards
and just fucking hit the road, forever if we have to.
- Are you sure? - Yeah, I'm fucking sure.
Ready?
Hi. We noticed you moved in next door, I'm Judy.
And I'm Marcel. We're your neighbours. It's nice to meet you.
Erm...
Do you speak English?
Oh.
I hope he's one of the new ones.
Mm. He might be a Syrian or a Kurd.
I hope he's Ukrainian though, because that would be so current.
Welcome to our country.
-Babes. -Yeah?
Babes, he's got a gun.
It's probably part of his religion.
Or maybe he's a freedom fighter. Don't embarrass us, Marcel.
You're probably right. Yeah. Did I come across too phobic?
-A little bit, yeah. -Did I?
-Fuck! Sorry. -Yeah.
It's ok, no, it's fine. We'll work on it.
It's fine, don't worry about it.
Judy.
- Marcel. - Oh, he speaks.
-He's English. -Oh.
What the fuck do you want?
-Woah. -Woah.
-Well-- -I should make you aware
that I suffer from an anxiety disorder
that's triggered by confrontational language
-Woah, woah, calm down. -It's a misunderstanding.
-We're no danger. -No.
-We hate Putin too. -Completely.
Well, that's nice.
-Do you think its safe? -The fuck am I supposed to know.
You're the one that wanted to come here, you fucking moody bitch.
I've just lost my brother.
Fucking dare you call me a moody bitch.
-Sorry, Lauren. -So you fucking should be.
Prick!
What you want me to do?
You're the man! Protect me, it's your fucking job.
What if they've got fucking guns like the last ones?
Go in the kitchen, just get a knife.
You know what... You keep banging on about me being more manly.
You're not exactly a domestic goddess, are you?
What?
You can't cook, you can't clean.
You drink out of a pint glass in the pub!
-I drink out of a pint glass? -Yes!
I'm just making a point.
What's your point? That I drink out of a pint glass in the pub?
Shh!
What the fuck are you doing?
I'm just saying,
-You want to be more like a man? -Yes.
You better start acting like a proper woman.
Or its going to be me divorcing you.
Do you hear me?
-Yeah. -Yeah?
You're gonna divorce me, are you?
Go on, do it. You fucking do it, I dare you.
Is there someone else? Is that what this is,
is there fucking someone else? Does she drink like a lady?
A bit savage, innit? Stabbing someone.
Oh don't be such a wimp.
I don't know if I could do it.
-Couldn't just stab anyone, can I? -It's not just anyone Luke.
-Just the people who are trying to kill us. -Still.
Plunging a knife into another human being's flesh,
slicing open vital organs where
guts and entrails fall out, there's loads of blood.
You know I cant stand the sight of blood.
Yeah, that's more me.
Right, okay, so you can't stab somebody because it grosses you out
but smashing their face in with a fucking monkey wrench
That's alright, is it, yeah?
It is actually.
-So who is she then? Who is she? -What?
Who's this fucking whore you're banging, you better tell me now.
We should talk about this later.
Remember?
So there is somebody else.
No.
Let me tell you Luke, if you are fucking cheating on me,
I swear to God I'm going to chop off your fucking dick, mate.
Why are you always talking about chopping off my dick? I've only got one.
And that's a bread knife.
What's a bread knife?
-Why don't you go first? -Hurry the fuck up.
Aww, see?
Nothing to be scared of.
Rambo.
Luke...
Your son Paris has been desperately trying to contact you.
He showed up at the front gates an hour ago
and an hour before that.
At your request, I sent him away.
Thank you, Major.
But Michael, he...
is your son.
No need to discuss this.
As I've told you before, Danny is my only son.
He knows about the bounty.
He wants to avenge his son's death himself
and claim the one million dollars.
He's broke, Michael,
and he wants to impress you.
He's on his way to London.
That weak bastard couldn't kill a cockroach.
Just go.
Leave me in peace.
Yes, sir.
-Quick, hide. -Hide where?
Under the fucking bed, have I got to think of everything?
Lauren!
Lukie!
I know you're in here.
I'll just come and find ya.
Welcome to the neighbourhood.
-Right, what do we do now? -Shhh.
Give me that fucking wrench.
-I think I've got carpet burn. -Shut up.
Luke, Luke. I'm here to help you and your wife Lauren,
now get under the bed and keep your mouths shut until I say so
-Okay? -Okay.
There's an American guy up there, says he wants to help us.
-He said we should... -I fucking heard him, Luke.
Looks like we have company.
Told you we should've bought a dog.
Fucking cat, what's a cat going to do?
Don't talk about Rambo like that.
I fucking love that cat.
Sounds like a fucking massacre out there.
What should we do?
Woah, woah, woah, hang on...
My man bag.
Oh!
Your car's bugged.
-That's how they found you. -Okay.
-Who the fuck are you? -Why are you helping us?
Let's just say I'm a disciple of love.
Now let's go. Let's get the fuck out of here.
Alright, start the car.
This is mental.
Go, now!
Going.
Get in the fucking car.
Yeah, no, no, yeah, yeah.
Would a thank you be out of the question?
- What's he shouting? - I don't know. The accent confuses me.
All sons seek their father's approval in one form or another,
and Paris was no different.
You ready to order, love?
Oh, no, I'm good. I'm meeting someone.
That's a beautiful accent you got there. Are you American?
Yeah, I am.
I love America.
-Why, have you been? -Nah, I've never been.
I've always watched it on the telly, though.
Tell you what, give us a shout when you're ready to order, alright love?
Yeah.
Will do.
-Hey, Bobby, my guy! -Sit the fuck down, you're making a scene.
Shit. It's cool, man.
Yo, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just...
I never bought a gun from no-one in a restaurant before, know what I mean?
See, it's legal at home.
Used to be legal here, too, apparently.
With all that Dunblane shit, right?
I mean, what a crazy fucking bastard smoking those kids.
Are you kidding me?
I mean, I suppose gun control is a good idea until you consider the fact
that the states with the lowest amount of gun crime
are the ones with the highest amount of legal firearms.
I mean, that kind of makes you wonder, you know what I mean?
-It's kind of weird. -What the fuck are you talking about?
Erm...
Gun control.
You don't have an opinion on it?
I ain't got time for this bullshit. You want it or not?
Yes, yeah I want it. It's cool, I was just, you know, making conversation.
Oh, yo... Hey, did you get that other thing, too?
- You know, the... - nose candy?
Yeah. Yeah, it's in the bag.
My guy.
It's like we discussed on the phone, 500.
Right, erm...
So there's just this tiny little, just
it's microscopic little problem.
Have you got the money or not?
Yeah.
Yeah, erm...
Okay. So, this...
Oh Jesus Christ, is there something wrong with you?
Nah its cool man look, this is 473...
Four pounds, all right?
And the rest I'm just going to have to owe you,
but I'm good for it, honestly, I promise, all right?
I'll see you around.
All right, erm. Yo, it was nice to meet you!
Take it easy.
Oh yeah.
Yeah.
I'm going to make you proud, Pop.
A son will one day follow a father's example
instead of his advice,
Michael longed and prayed for the day Paris would follow
his immaculate example of living life.
Unfortunately for Michael,
today was the day Paris would choose
to follow Michael's example.
On a day Michael perhaps wasn't at his greatest.
A Michael Hero, driven by the devilish
sweet taste of revenge,
retribution and vengeance.
I dunno what else he thought a golden shower was, the soppy cunt.
Evening. We'd like a room for the night, please.
Oh, this one's a bit formal.
You two married, are you?
Yeah. Ten years.
Ten years.
Fucking hell, rapists get less than that don't they?
Rapists?
Well, doesn't it get boring?
I mean, variety is the spice of life, innit?
He said we want a room.
Jealous type, are you love?
Aw she the jealous type, love.
You ain't got to be jealous, sweetheart,
he's not my type.
I mean, I'm into big black men.
Or should I say big black men are into me, innit?
Can't get enough of this big booty. Yeah.
Look,
we're really tired.
We'd really love a room.
It's been a long day.
-Tired? -Yeah.
-Really? -Uh-huh.
I bet a young man like you can go all night.
Oh, yeah.
When is this going to end?
- Try and get some sleep. - How can you sleep?
I've been driving all night, Luke, it's alright for you as a passenger.
Is this another dig about me not being able to drive?
Well you are forty. You really should be driving by now.
Everybody drives,
only some are driven.
Suppose you think you're a fucking poet now.
Fucking nonce.
Good evening, ma'am.
Well hello sexy.
I'm looking for some friend of mine
and I've been told they've been staying at this hotel.
Lauren and Luke Loveday.
What, you lot swingers are you?
Yeah I'm game!
No, nothing like that.
You a leg or a breast man?
No, thank you. I'm...
-watching my weight. -Hmm.
Who you calling?
Well Luke and Lauren Loveday.
And your name is?
I''d rather surprise them.
Well I can't let you up without letting them know.
Hotel policy, I'm afraid.
Look, I'll only be a minute.
No.
Lauren...
Lauren?
-Lauren! -Oh, my God,
You're the most annoying man in the world.
I think I heard something.
Yes, we are in a hotel. We're not the only guests here.
Sounded like a gun.
How sure are you it was a gun?
Guns are loud, right?
-Was it loud? -Think so.
Was it loud or wasn't it?
Who the fuck is that?
How the fuck am I supposed to know!
Does he look like an assassin?
What the fuck does an assassin look like?
Fuck.
-What? -He looks like an assassin.
How do you know what an assassin looks like?
They just got that look, haven't they? Like,
you know, like that American love boy.
I though he was a kid! You telling me he was an assassin?
Obviously.
I knew we shouldn't have ditched him.
We didn't know him from Adam. For all we knew
he was going to kill us, what makes you so sure he was on our side?
Just think, think, wait.
What are we gonna do?
Where's the wrench?
-It's in my man bag. -Jesus Christ.
-What, a man can't have a bag? -Fucking hurry up.
Who are you?
I'm with the hotel.
May I ask you to please move your car?
It's obstructing our delivery truck.
-Do you believe him? -I'm not sure.
Can you please just open the door?
Okay. On the count of three, we're going to open the door, okay?
-One... two... -Wait, wait, wait.
Three's a bit quick, isn't it?
How about...
twenty?
What's the fucking difference?
I need time to brace myself.
You, get in the fucking room, now.
Fucking got you, bitches.
Come on.
The fuck you looking at?
You alright mate?
I've had better days.
Look, I'm really sorry we left you earlier.
It wasn't my idea.
No, I'm sorry, too.
Sometimes, though, the wrong decision is better than indecision, innit?
Absolutely.
Yeah. Major, what's up? It's Paris.
Mm-hmm. Guess where I am?
More importantly,
guess who I got
right
in front of me?
I got to tell you, Danny, golf is a lot like life.
I've learned a lot from this game.
It's all about the timing.
Just like life. And once you got the timing down,
you can send this little ball
soaring through the air like a bald eagle.
It's all about the timing, Danny.
The timing
of life.
It's Paris. He's in London.
He has Lauren and Luke Loveday.
What are you talking about?
He has them held hostage at a hotel in Hertfordshire.
He wants your respect, Michael.
He wants the bounty, don't be naive, Major.
He wants to honour you with the pleasure
of killing Jackie's killers yourself.
And now he hasn't got the balls to go through with it, right?
Book me a flight to the nearest airport.
-Er, Michael. -Yeah?
-As your friend, -I'm listening.
and your security advisor,
I don't think that's a good idea.
Well, as a wise woman once told me, when a man is wet,
he need not fear the rain.
Let's go.
Major.
Are you bringing Pop too?
Yes!
That's great.
That is fucking great news, man.
Erm... so I guess I'll see you in what, eight hours, something like that?
All right, cool. Cool, cool.
Hey, listen, Major, I know we had a lot of shit that happened between us
but I'm just telling you, it's all going to be... Hello?
Hello?
You have to ring it louder than that Lisa. Look, let me show you.
Mommy. Daddy.
Who's that? And why are they on the floor?
Is that blood?
Jesus.
It, erm...
It shouldn't be too much longer.
You guys hungry?
Anyone want a fucking pizza or something?
Please, mate, just let us go.
Look,
we just got carried away, that's all.
We didn't mean to kill the kid.
Yeah, well,
you did.
You killed him.
You killed my son.
Jesus Christ.
I'm so sorry, I...
I didn't know it was your son.
I barely knew him.
But, erm...
my dad, his granddad,
He really loved that little sucker.
You let them go
and I won't kill you.
Excuse me?
You won't kill me?
This fucking guy. I'm the one with the guns, bucko.
You're the one leaking on the floor like a bleeding uterus.
Oh, that's disgusting.
Okay, that was kind of disgusting.
Anyone thirsty?
I'm thirsty.
You know,
I don't usually have the audacity
to even drink from hotel mini bars.
Fucking inflated prices these pricks charge, am I right?
I don't know.
Today kind of feels like a special occasion, though.
You know what I mean?
What with me about to be a millionaire.
Millionaire? God.
That is such a rags to riches story, innit?
Fucking people said I'd never amount to nothing.
Fucking jerk offs. Am I right?
Did you mean what you said?
You still want a divorce?
No.
Don't be stupid.
Do you?
No!
What the fuck would I do without you?
-Love you. -Love you.
You guys serious?
You really plan on getting divorced?
I mean, that's fucking crazy. You two are so obviously in love.
How long you been together?
- Ten years. - Ten years.
-Yep. -Nearly eleven.
- No shit. - Yeah.
I mean, that's fucking great, man. Seriously.
That's fucking great.
I was in love once.
My dad didn't approve.
She was a dancer.
Called The Unicorn.
I mean, that wasn't her real name, her real name was Catherine, but...
I liked Unicorn.
She sounds really special.
She was.
Alright...
What about you, tough guy?
Hey.
Are you married?
I was.
What, you're divorced?
-Hmm? -No.
She died from cancer.
Oh, shit.
Shit. I'm sorry, bro.
Sorry. I... thank you.
That is so sad.
I loved her.
Still do, always will.
True love never dies.
Mm.
Fights,
arguments,
fall outs,
They never matter,
because love
sometimes hurts.
It's a turbulent fucking road.
But life is nothing without love.
No!
Do it, now!
Get the fuck down!
No!
Bronz commander to control, transporting one.
Be advised. Patient recognition, life extinct on scene.
What have I done?
Oh, my God.
What have I done?
Oh, my God.
To man, seeking revenge for being wronged
comes as naturally as breathing.
The mind fools the heart into believing
the pain will stop if the wrongdoers are punished.
But the pain seldom stops
for revenge is not justice.
Revenge is hate.
As another great man once said,
"An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth
would lead to a world of blind and toothless."