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Love can sometimes be beautiful.

Love can sometimes be dangerous.

But true love, or 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.

Not the same person
that I was 10 years ago.

I love you, Lauren.

I love you too.

But we've grown apart.

Where the bitches at?

All we need to do is see
a marriage counselor.

It's all we need.

A little bit of therapy.

A marriage counselor.

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 moisturize three times a day.

I married a man's man.

You showed me someone
who hasn't changed in 10 years.

And I'll show you someone
who's wasted 10 fucking years.

Hello, beautiful.

Let me buy you a drink.

Fuck off, mate.

Hey, listen, just having
a quiet drink with the 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.

A tiny dick?

Microscopic.

It's about average.

That'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 more than 5.7 inches...

You have a three-inch cock.

Or a three-inch Johnson,
as you guys affectionately

like to call it.

Three inches.

No, no.

It's a little...

A little bigger than that.

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 non-violent 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 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 the great
man would seek his ressurection 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 forty years,

Mary Ann 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 Lion Terry 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.

That's medicinal.

Dad, that is 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.

Com'on Paris, time to leave.

Where are we going?

Your father doesn't
think this is working out.

You're firing me?

Hey, fuck you! How about that?
Fuck you!

You all right?

I'll see you around big man.

Chill man.

Michael hoped that having to now face
adversity would mold 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.

Oh, shit, no, no.

Hey, Major, no.

Just chill, chill, chill.

Hey, baby, it's Paris.
Just... just the clowns...

Paris had a son, Jackie, born
from a one-night stand with a stripper

named Unicorn, also known as
Catherine Grey, 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 perculiar way.

Besides, you don't have
to worry about a thing.

I will always take care of you.

But slightly, it was all
Michael needed, and Michael

worshiped Jackie like
the son he never had.

That's my boy.

Lavishing on 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 have placed a $1
million 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 1980.

He's an honorable and an honest man, but he
hails from an immoral and godless business.

A world the Major has
more frequented than you are.

Remain silent when listening to him,
assume 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.

Yeah?

I'll let Mr. Hero know right away.

They were acquitted this morning
on the grounds of self-defense.

But they killed my grandson.

When a great man is hurt,
all just and fair men suffer.

Cheers, baby.

Cheers.

I fucking love you, Lauren.

Do you? I fucking love you too, Luke.

Whiny wanker.

What's wrong?

It's that boy!

We fucking killed him babe!

I know, and I keep
thinking about him too, but...

What's done is done.

Regret is only going
to make us resentful.

The regret is a wasted emotion that can
just wear you down to a little tiny nib.

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.

Fucking love that movie.

There's no point living in the past.

No regrets.

Just lessons learned.

Babe?

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.

Well, we shouldn't have any trouble

but that's no 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 eh.. teatotal, I'm afraid.

No Capisco.

What's teatotal?

It means I don't drink, makes me reckless.

Ah, I see.

Reckless.

The 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
sincere 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.

Oh-oh.

I will send my best men.

Please send on Hero my best.

His soul will be slightly
soothed by the end of the week.

Thank you, sir.

Pasqualle..

Put some music, a tarantella.
I wanna 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

for the contract during a
difficult financial climate,

Don Piazza ordered
the execution of Richard

for his failure to sufficiently
protect Little Jack.

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, this piccalilli, has
it got calories in it?

We can love a cat or a dog.

We can't be in love with a cat or a dog.

Not unless you're
slipping in the sausage

and then that would
be bestiality, I suppose.

Bestiality?

Yeah, like Animal Farm.

George Orwell, that's about
Russians and communism.

It's symbolic babe.

You know what, those
Russians really are filthy fuckers.

What with that?

The Reaper incident was a major
embarrasment to Don Piazza.

He made anagreement with Michael and
like all men of honor he intended to keep it.

One million dollars

The don placed the contract on the open market.
- Alright Ciao.

News of the one million dollar bounty became
public knowledge in local underworld circles.

Inevitably attracting some of London's most
dangerous assassions, 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 and their
fight against the West.

Sorry. Carry on. I'm still listening.

Once Isis fell, Paul was
rendered stateless.

A wandering lone and crossing illegal
borders around the world.

Armed, trained, and without
any fear of death,

he would use his anonymity to his advantage
forging the career as a gun for hire.

Yes... I mean, why not?
London's my manna.

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.

Fucking original. You fucking nun.

Hello?
Well, how can I help ya?

Florence, Francesca,
and Fabiana Ferizi

Were the daughters of deceased
mob boss Fat Gian Ferzizi

inheriting every ounce of their once
powerful father's love for blood.

Beautiful, seductive
and extremely dangerous.

Francesca's house is fashion.
How can I help you?

Is that your car? Yes.
Thought you said you had a Ferrari?

Yes, a Ferrari. Well, somebody
is going to have fun either way.

Yeah.

Now, get the fuck out of here.

Fuck you, then!

Ello?

Finch Fire-starter,
Franklin, was an explosives

expert, nicknamed
Fire-starter for obvious reasons.

A modern day, hippie who 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 worlds leading criminal
organizations and guerrilla fighters.

With the right wind trajectory
and financial incentive,

John Salis could kill a
man from over a mile away.

Don Piazza, how may I be of service?

Valerie and Justin's story began at a
professional capacity when Valerie 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?

Well, you fucking his best friend when
he's out at work. That would be a reason.

I not a cheat, thank you very much.

Despite his violence towards you?

Till death do us us apart.

And you sure you want this
particular parting to happen?

Well, yeah, that's why I called you.

You got the money?

60,000?

That's the going rate.

Got some.

Oh, 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?

Beating daily for no more
of a reason than my

so-called husband losing
a bet at the racetrack.

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're gonna help me or not?

I'll happily do it myself.

I just need you to show me how.

Valerie, the fuck are you doing here?

Who the fuck is this?

Now, Valerie.

Oh, you ungrateful fucking whore!

I'll beat the fuck outta you!

After a shaky start, Valerie
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.

Valerie and Justin Villain were the
en vogue hitmen of choice for high-society.

I love you, Valerie.

I love you, Justin.

Um...

Justin, I gotta tell you something.

Whatever it is, the answer is I love you.

No, this is serious.
- So am I.

Well, what is it?

Uh... I uh...

I went to the doctor today,
and I got the result back.

Right. The headaches.

Everything OK?

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 am so sorry.

I've got...

I've got six months.

A year.

If I'm lucky.

I'm dying, Justin.

And uh...

The part that makes me the most sad.

It's the fact that I'm never
gonna see you again.

I love you.

It's a part of life, son.

We're all born to die.

You hold strong now.

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 comes presumptiously 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.

So men, even powerful and deadly men,

cannot overcome tragedy
and are consumed by its might.

When Justin Villain lost his wife
Valerie to cancer, tragedy defeated him.

What?

How long they've been married?

Are they in love?

What am I saying?

They've been married ten
years, of course they're in love.

So in short,

he was protecting his wife's honor.

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 Valerie
if you're feeling unwell.

How many people you arrested then?

Not many.

Take your fucking hat off.

Sorry.

Now then you two,
we've reviewed the CCTV

footage and it seems to
corroborate your stories.

Obviously.

So you're not under arrest at this time,

but must warn you that it seems

that the gentleman
was a professional.

A professional.

An assassin.

Probably revenge for
killing that young kid.

Thank you officer.

Now it's not the time for opinions, is it?

No.

I'm sorry sir.

So you...

You're gonna protect us right?

We can offer you very little
in terms of protection at this time.

But if you do need
help, just dial 999,

and we'll have an emergency response team
with you as soon as is humanly possible.

You're fucking pathetic.

What?

We don't need their fucking help.

We'll ask 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. Go.

Thank you so much.

Do you wanna fuckin'
lick their arses some more?

You sure you want some more of that?

Gosh.

Don't leave the country.

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.

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 talking to you, got me
waiting 10 minutes for a drink.

You can kiss that old dog
after you brought me a drink!

All right, Mr. Landlord?

You cheeky fucking cunt.

Yeah, 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?

I'll clear it as always.
- Oh Tony, I missed you.

I missed you too, darling.

Hey Doreen.

Come here, you.

You don't get away without a cuddle.

How are you?
I'm real good, Tony.

Fuck me.
- Yeah

Luke, I think you could
do with a drink, eh?

Yeah right.
- Let's get 'em in.

And you can tell me all
about these foreign bastards.

Cheers guvnor.

What?

Right.

We decided that you..
You two move into the pub.

And live with us.

Yes.

You let me protect my little sister.

Like only a big brother can.

Good girl.

What's that supposed to mean?

"Like only a big brother can".

I can look after my own fucking
wife, I have you know.

Can you not be so fucking rude, Luke?

I'm just saying...

I aint scared of no one!

I demand respect.

R S P T, respect.

I'm 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!?

What?

Come on.

Let's get Princess to bed
before he hurts himself.

's sake Luke.

I'm strong.

I know Luke.

You're a big brave soldier.

I'm a man in the jungle.

Love you 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.

Bollocks!

Get upstairs and pack a suitcase,
we're goin' on the lam!

Let's get the fuck out of here.

What's the lam?
- What?

What's the lam?

Allah Akbar!

You can run for now.

But you can't hide.

Fucking infidels.

I can't believe they just
shot my fucking brother.

Who knows what
Tony had done to them?

He was protecting us.

They're 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 easily missed?

We can't, 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 our home.

It would be really, really quick.

Just go in, get some
clothes, get our cards, and

just fucking hit the road
forever if we have to.

Are you sure?

Fucking sure!

So do the hug.

Hi... eh we noticed you moved in next door.
I'm Judy.

And I'm Marcel.
We're your neighbours.

It's nice to meet you.

Uh...

Do you... speak... English?

Oh. I hope he's one of the new ones.

Mmmmm. He might be a Syrian or a Kurd.

I hope he's Ukrainian though,
because that'd be so current.

Welcome to our country.

Babe.
Yeah?

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 probably were right. Yeah.
Did I come across too phobic?

A little bit.
Did I?

Fuck!
Sorry.

It's fine. We'll work on it.

Judy?

Marcel?

He speaks.

He's English.
Oh...

What the fuck do you want?

Whoa.

Whoa.
- Whoa.

I should make you aware that I
suffer from an anxiety disorder

that's triggered by
confrontational language.

Hold on.

Calm down. Just remain calm.
It's a misunderstanding.

- Please.
We're no danger.

Aaand we hate, Putin too.

Completely.

Or that's nice.

Ah!

Do you think it's safe?

The fuck am I supposed to know?

But you're the one who wanted
to come here, fucking moody bitch.

I just lost my brother.

Fucking day you call me a moody bitch.

Sorry, Lauren.

So you fucking should be.

Prick.

What do you want me to do?

You're the man, protect me!

Fucking tool.

What if they all got fucking
guns, like the last ones.

Couldn't we change that with that knife.

No.

You keep banging on
about me being more manly.

You're not exactly a
domestic goddess, are ya?

What?

You can't cook. You can't clean.

You can't have a pint glass
when you're in the pub.

I can't have a pint glass?

Yeah. I'm just making a point.

What's your fucking point. I can't
have a fucking pint glass in the pub.

Fuck are you doing?

I'm just saying you want
me to be more like a man.

Yes.

You better start actin'
like a proper woman.

Or it's gonna be me divorcing you!

Do you hear me?

Yeah.

You're divorcing me are ya?

Go on and do it.

You fucking do it, I dare you.

Is there someone else?

Or is there fucking someone else?
Does she drink like a lady, does she?

A bit savage innit?

Stabbing someone?

Don't be such a wimp.

I dunno if I can do it.

Can't just stab anyone, can I?

Not just anyone you got to stab, 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 and
there's loads of blood.

You know I can't stand the sight of blood.

Yeah. That's more than me.

Right, okay.

So you can't stab somebody
because it grosses you out.

But smashing their face it
with a fucking monkey wrench.

That's all right, isn't it? Yeah.

It is, actually.

So who is she then?

What?
- Who is she?

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'll swear to god, I'm gonna
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.

It's a bread knife.

Why don't you go first?

Hurry the fuck up.

Oh, see? Nothing to be scared of.

I'm bad.

No.

Your son, Paris, has been
desperately trying to contact you.

He showed up at the front
gate 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 1 million dollars.

He's broke, Michael.

And he wants to impress you.

He's on his way to London.

Ah, that weak bastard
couldn't kill a cockroach.

Just go.

Leave me in peace.

- Quick hide!
- Where?

Under the fucking bed, have
I got to think of everything?

Lauren

Lukey.

I know you're in here.

I'll just come and find ya.

Welcome to the neighborhood.

What? Whadda we do now?
- Sttt

Get rid of 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 fucking bed and
keep your mouth 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 gonna do.

The fuck you talk about Rambo like that.

I fucking love that cat.

Sounds like a fucking massacre out there.

Yeah.

Whadda you do?

Whoaho, hang on.
My manbag.

Your car's bugged.
That's how they found you.

Who the fuck are you?

Why are you helping us?

It's the same with the Cypher of Love.

Let's go. Let's get the fuck out of here.

All right, start the car.

This is mental.

Go now.

Go.

Get in the fucking car.

Yeah, no no, yeah, yeah.

Go.

Is taking me out of the question?

What's he shouting?

I don't know. He actually 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.

Me, I love America.

Why, you've been?

No, 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, all right, love?

Yeah, will do.

- Hey, Bobby, my God.
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, you know what I mean.

See, it's legal at home.

Used to be legal here, too, apparently.

All that Dunblane shit, right?
(Dunblane school massacre)

I mean, what a crazy fucking
bastard smoking those kids.

You kidding me?

You know, I suppose
gun control was 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?

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 wanted it. It's cool.

I was just, you know, making conversation.

Oh, yo. Hey, did you want
to get that other thing too?

You know, the,
you know, the, you know,

Nose candy?
- Yeah. Yeah, it's in the bag.

My guy.
- It's like we discussed on the phone, 500.

Right. So there's just this tiny
little just microscopic little problem.

Have you got the money or not?

Yeah. Yeah.

Okay. So this.

Oh, Jesus Christ.
Is there something wrong with you?

No, it's cool, man. Look, this is
four hundred and seventy-threee...

four pounds. All right?

And the rest, I'm just gonna
have to owe you, but I'm good for it.

Honestly, I promise. All right?

I'll see you around.

All right. Um, it was nice to meet you.

Take it easy.

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.

Yeah. Well I don't know what else she
thought a golden shower was, salty cunt.

Evening.
We'd like a room for a night, please.

This one's a bit formal.

Are you two married, are you?

Yeah, ten years.

Ten years. Okay, you know rapists
get less than that, don't they?

Rapists?

Well, don't it get boring?

I mean, variety is
the spice of life, innit?

He said, we want a room.

Jealous type, are you love?

Oh, she the jealous type, love?
You ain't got to be jealous sweetheart.

He's not my type.
I mean, I'm in to big black men.

Or should I say big black
men are in to me, innit?

Can't get enough of this booty.
Yeah!

Look

We're really tired. We'd really
love a room. It's been a long day.

Tired?
- Yeah

Really? I bet a young man
like you can go all night.

When's this gonna end?

Try to get some sleep.
- How can you sleep?

I've been driving all night, Luke.
It's all right for you as a passenger.

Is this another dig about
me not being able to drive.

Well, we're all 40, we
should be driving by now.

Everybody drives. Only some are driven.

Suppose you think
you're a fucking poet now.

Fucking nuns.

Good evening, ma'am.
Yeah, hello sexy.

I'm looking for some
friends of mine.

And I've been told they've been
staying at this hotel.

Lauren and Like loveday?

Were you lot swingers are ya?

Here I'm game.
- No, nothing like that.

Are you a leg or a breast man?

No, thank you, I'm, um, watching my weight.

- Who you're calling? Well, Luke and
Lauren Loveday. And your name is?

I'd rather surprise them.

Well, I can't let you out
without letting them know.

Hotel policy I'm afraid.

Look, I'll only be a minute.

No.

Lauren?

Lauren?

Lauren?

Lauren?

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 guest here.

Sounded like a gun.

How sure you it was a
gun. Guns are loud, right?

Was it loud?
- I think so.

What was it loud? Or wasn't it?

Who the fuck is that?

The fuck am I supposed to know?

Does he look like an assassin?
- What the fuck does an assassin look like?

Fuck. He looks like an assassin.

The fuck do you know
what an assassin looks like?

They just got that
look, haven't they?

Like... you know, like
that American love boy.

That was a fucking kid. Are 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 still in my 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,
I'm going to open the door, Okay?

One.

-Two.
Wait, wait

Three is a bit quick, isn't it?
How about... 20?

20?
What's the fucking difference?

I need time to brace myself.

You, in the fucking room now!

Fucking got you bitches.

What are you looking at?

You alright, mate?

No, I had better days.

Look, I'm really sorry we left you earlier.
It wasn't my idea.

So, I'm sorry too.

Sometimes though, the wrong
decision is better than indecision, innit?

Absolutely.

Yeah, major,
what's up? It's Paris.

A-hu.
Guess where I am?

More importantly, guess
who I got right in front of me.

I'm gonna 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.

Nah, he wants the bounty.
Don't be naive, major.

He wants to honor you with the pleasure
of killing Jackie's killers yourself.

And now he hasn't got the
balls to go through it, right?

Book me a flight to the nearest airport.

Oh, Michael? Yeah.

As your friend... and your security adviser?
- I'm listening.

I don't think that's a good idea.

As a wise woman once told me, when
a man is wet, he near not fear the rain.

Let's go.

Major.

Are you bringing pop too?

That's great.
That is fucking great news, man.

So I guess I'll see you in what,
like eight hours, something like that.

All right, cool, 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 your louder than
that, Lisa. Look, let me show you.

Mommy, daddy. Who's that?

And why on the floor. Is that blood?

Oh, Jesus.

It, uh,
it shouldn't be too much longer.

You guys hungry?

Anyone 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.

OH well, you did...

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
um, my dad, his granddad.

I really love that little sucker.

You let them go.

And I won't kill you.

Excuse me.

You won't kill me.

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.

Oh, okay.

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 it kind of feel 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-rich story, innit?

Fucking people said I
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're really planning 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.

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 her unicorn.

I mean, that wasn't a real name, her
name was Catherine, but...

I'll liked unicorn.

She sounds really special.

She was.

Hey.

How about you tough guy?

Hey.

You married?

I was.

Were you divorced?

No.

She died... from cancer.

Oh, shit.

Shit, I'm sorry, bro.

Sorry bro.

That is so sad.

I loved her.

Still do.

Always will.

True love never dies.

Hmm?

It 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!

No, fucker!

No!

Bronze commander to control.

Transporting one.

Be advised, patient recognition
of life, extinct on scene.

What have I done?
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.".

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