Original subtitles

I don't think he's listening.

Why

don't I hold on to that for you?

The whole precinct's out there.

They're looking for four guys in the Cadillac.

We can split up the money and just go solo on foot.

You got a 200-pound mag drill in your back

pocket you've been home not telling us about.

The car is hidden from the street unless they get

close, but we're sitting ducks down here if they do.

Municipal Storage Facility.

Anyone with a car owe you a favor?

Short notice, short money.

Not in my Rolodex.

The fuck's a Rolodex?

Don't talk for a while, okay?

Watch yourself.

A whole lot further to fall.

Car troubles.

Yeah.

Wildcard came up with Deuce.

Take us a day to crack it.

I can make you hold that.

Call back later.

Right.

What'd he say?

He said we're all over the news, told us we're on our own till nightfall at

best, and that he'd need at least 50% hazard

pay to think about sticking his neck out.

He said call back an hour before sundown.

He'll know if he can send a van.

It's cooled off by then.

Fucking sundown?

What?

You stupid piece of shit.

No one told me there was alarms.

Yeah, that wouldn't have mattered if you stuck with the fucking safe instead of

making a detour to the pharmacy section on your own initiative.

I saw an inn.

I took it.

Look, I can flip.

No, that's good loot.

You fucked us.

No, we should have had pieces.

Pieces?

This was a soft in, soft out.

This is no guns needed.

This is candy from a baby.

You gonna shoot a cop?

I don't know who I'm gonna shoot.

You watch that.

Look, we got the safe when we got out.

That's a fucking score.

Oh yeah, why don't you tell that to our wheel man's wife?

I'm sure she'll be very proud of us.

Maybe you give her a couple hundred from your cut for the casket.

Yeah, I didn't need to bring you in.

To your low rent box store job?

Huh?

We'll be lucky if we pull 30k from this shit show.

If you even give us a chance to fucking crack this safe.

Thanks for the lead, ace.

Fuck you.

Fuck you stupid and your fucking cousin.

Morons.

What?

What the fuck?

He's sick.

Christ.

What the fuck would you know?

It's on a spill more dope than you'll ever live to shoot.

But I... I just didn't have my wake up this morning, alright?

So you figured you'd nap on him while we were on the clock?

Just let me get well.

Alright?

Come on, man.

Your show.

I should let you fucking sweat.

It's the small bottle.

It's yellow powder.

Yeah.

They got a sink in here?

Have we been here longer than you have?

Yeah, whatever.

Stay away from the street side windows.

And don't go the fuck outside.

You said this was gonna be easy.

Come on.

Almost there.

Sometimes I pretend the sound of cars passing by or...

waves on some little black sand beach far away from you.

You don't have to pretend.

Please fly away.

Please fly away.

Please fly away.

I fucked up.

Taking down rink and ding scores with punks that can't keep their hand out of

their cookie jar long enough to finish the main course.

I dropped the ball, Walker.

I'm sorry.

I've seen this.

Guys get shaken up.

Their partner dies.

Their kid gets sick.

Maybe their wife balls someone else.

And they start making their own chaos.

Walker.

There are only three kinds of last score, Stacy.

The kind where you serve life, the kind where you're served a bullet, and the kind.

And the kind where you walk away.

Man's gotta know what he is.

Yeah.

What are you?

You know, I did this score when my kid was a little...

Christmas Eve, I couldn't have been, what, twenty-five?

Pet shop job.

You know, this guy, he was the manager, says

there's gonna be five grand in the safe.

I guess these places do good on hundred bucks.

You know, a lot with the holidays, you know, a

lot with the kittens and bunnies and all that.

I'm counting on this score to put something under the tree

for my little girl, so I go, you know, I crack the safe.

It's a four-number mechanical combo, eyes and ears only.

I am so proud of myself.

I pull this thing open.

There's nothing.

Not a note.

Turns out the manager's a fucking degenerate like everybody else.

And he's already dropped all the money off the track.

Remember, my little girl's been listening for sleigh bells

all week, so I go looking for a bunny or a cat to get her.

But all they got left is puppies and fish.

Now, I know who'd be walking a puppy.

So I find this fish.

Tropical one.

Beautiful.

Bright yellow.

Different than the others.

Perfect.

I grab the whole tank.

Must have weighed 60 pounds.

Cord hanging off the back.

And I'm about to take off.

And I stop and think, am I really about to walk out of a job with one goddamn fish?

So I go fishing.

Long, shrimp-looking ones.

Leopard-type guys.

Big old black ones with those big bubble eyes.

Just dropping them in the tank with yellow.

I'm pretty happy how this worked out.

And I never would have come up with this.

On my own, it would have been a teddy bear or a doll if I was really flush.

But this...

This is inspiring.

So I slip in.

I set up this tank right under the tree.

Because I just got to see the look on my daughter's face when she sees this.

But lugging that aquarium around is hard work.

I'm out as soon as I hit the chair.

Then I wake up.

And there's this screaming.

Nothing like that sound.

The sound of your own kid just screaming.

All these fish are dead.

All bloated up like some East River dump job.

All except that yellow tropical.

Turns out that freshwater fish don't make it in the salt.

Me, I'm a freshwater fish.

I know I'm in the right tank.

Maybe we should go check on that guy.

The kid before you.

Takes a selfie up on the roof.

And posts it to Instagram.

Fuck you.

Test starts.

Shit.

He's finished.

Walk away.

Nice and slow.

Run!

Go, run!

Jesus, look!

Run, run, fucking run!

Go!

He's coming!

Shut the fucking door!

What the fuck was that?

Beware of still water or a silent dog.

You know, I bunk with this gangbanger who used to fight pits in Chicago.

So this guy, he tells me the big

organizations, they hop from place to place.

And that someone sticks around to put the losers down when the show's over.

There's a fire escape.

Well, let's get the fuck out of here.

Come back for the money.

Ride knows where we're at.

We gotta be here when he comes, otherwise he takes the safe.

He tells us it's in an evidence room downtown.

We don't see a fucking dime.

All right, we hold up in here until the van comes.

Bust out the window, take the stairs, get the safe.

Get the fuck out of here.

Who the hell do you think you're doing?

I'm fucking sick.

And?

And my dope's in the other room.

Did you...

Did we not almost get eaten by a giant fucking dog?

Jesus, man, look at you.

Hey!

Get down.

What the fuck's the matter with you?

I broke my fucking nose.

I should have thrown you out of the fucking car is what I should have done.

Jesus Christ.

See, now I feel bad.

Man, he was going for you.

Jesus.

I was trying to get in between the junkie and the shots.

I fucking doubt that I shot him.

He said you had him six months now?

Mm-hmm.

Been letting my little knees play with him.

Making a bet?

He did.

Big pause.

Mm-hmm.

Рeason right can be a wrecker.

If he's game?

You gonna roll him?

No?

Only way to know.

I'll start the work.

You think I'm helping you carry that kid down in the fire escape?

You're out of your fucking mind.

I can fucking carry him.

Bet you wish we had pieces now.

Listen, man, I've done plenty of dirt, but I ain't shooting no fucking dog.

It's just funny, man.

Well, it's just I've always known you to be a cat person.

Fuck you.

Back out.

I'm not.

Not what?

I'm not a cat person.

You just switched?

I like cats.

I still like them.

I just, I got a preference for dogs now.

That's all.

It's all right to be a cat person.

I know it is.

I mean, they're smart, they're independent, you don't have to pick up their shit.

You know, I had a thing happen on a job that, you know, made me rethink the thing.

That's all.

You had another dog thing happen on a job?

It's a long story.

Well, it's not like we have a paucity of time.

That's personal.

What kind of job?

I told you, it's personal.

Listen, you know, being a cat person doesn't necessarily make you less of a man.

Will you stop?

You had to be there.

I mean, it doesn't make you, like, a giant pussy.

Truffles.

It was a truffles job.

Truffles?

Truffles like chocolate?

No, like mushrooms.

The fuck you did a mushroom job?

Not mushrooms.

Truffles.

Fuck.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I'm serious.

You figure dope boys get what?

18K for a key of blow?

A kilo of White Albas?

Gets you a hundred fucking K.

Fuck.

How did you get plugged in with that?

I knew this crazy kid from East Boston.

Used to work in the kitchen with me in the joint.

Pretty good chef when he wasn't robbing all my cars.

I finish my stint, they get out.

This guy is in Gourmet fucking magazine.

Ah, and he needs truffles.

Yeah.

50 cents on the dollar.

But where the fuck is the product?

It's in the ground.

Gotta dig it up.

Except he tells me about this auction that they hold once a year, right?

A fucking thing.

Simulcast.

Florence.

London.

Macau.

Sold.

Now these things get brought in the country chain to some ex-Massad's wrist.

High security.

But the guy that runs the auction decides he's gonna cut costs.

Puts them in a regular old storage unit right here in town.

I gazed the place.

There's only one guard on it.

It's on night shift.

Poor bastard humps mail all day for the post office.

He's out like a light as soon as the guy before him takes off.

But I can't for the life of me figure out what unit these truffles are in.

I get this methed out Bulgarian hacker dressed as like

Obi-Wan Kenobi to try and check client records for me.

No dice, man.

Place is old school.

Strictly paper files.

I pull a favor with Mr. Clean and borrow a truck.

I start digging through this place's trash for billing statements, invoices,

credit card receipts.

Anything I can find to track these things down.

But this place shares an alley with a Korean fish market.

And the only thing I'm gonna get out of these dumpsters is a fucking collar.

I tell the chef I'm throwing in the towel.

I mean, this place is 12 floors, 50 units each.

But he begs me to stay on.

Tells me he's gonna pay me 70 cents on the dollar.

So I do a little research.

Find out about this guy in New Jersey.

Crazy South African living in a shack way out in the Pine Barrens.

Got that disease where he's got no hair on his body.

He trains truffle dogs.

Truffle dogs?

Yeah, well, they're better than pigs, because pigs eat the things.

Dogs will just dig them up as long as you got food they like better on standby.

Makes sense.

Turns out there's only a handful of real DLH

truffle dogs in the whole fucking country.

And this guy owns two.

Now, as you know, at the time I haven't yet

cultivated an appreciation for the canine species.

But I'm looking at this little Jack Russell

and I'm thinking maybe I can make this work.

Get one of those carrying cases, like, what's the name with the sex video?

Sneak him right in the place and sniff the shit out.

This little bastard must smell my cat or something,

because he won't even let me get near him.

That ain't gonna work.

So I have to take the other one.

Wait, there's another one?

Yeah, I already told you.

This guy's got two of these things.

Keeps the second one in a big-ass cage he's got built

out back, because he says it ain't housebroken yet.

He's got a big-ass cage for a Jack Russell?

Nah, man.

What is it, a hound or something?

Mm-mm.

Goddamn.

Damn standard, brutal.

Haircut and everything.

We cover nine floors, an old boy's doing his thing, but he's not getting any hits.

At this point, I'm getting nervous, you know, because the morning crew's gonna

relieve Sleeping Beauty in half an hour, and pom-poms ain't seeing shit.

And just when I'm starting to think I got conned...

It's all there.

The goddamn truffle motherload.

Come on.

I give pom-poms his reward.

I start loading these things out into the hall.

And there's Sleeping Beauty.

I don't know what must have happened to this guy at the post office that day,

but the way he's looking at me, I can just tell he's getting ready to put me down.

I mean, I can do a stretch just fine, but the prospect of getting killed over a

bunch of mushrooms, truffles, whatever, it's not sitting right.

So I start praying to God.

And the damnedest thing happens.

I mean, if I had pulled two 45s, this guy wouldn't have thought twice about

peeling my scalp back right then and there.

He sees a dog.

And he's in the wind.

Come on.

That's bullshit.

All my life, man.

Took old boy straight to the groomers,

dropped 200 bucks getting his pom-pom fluffed.

Been a dog lover ever since.

Yeah.

What the shit?

Fucking kid.

Kid!

Kid!

Nothing.

Dispatch, this is K309.

Checking out the municipal storage facility at Conrad and Gardner.

Copy, Conrad.

Get in.

Oh, fuck.

Got a jimmy door here.

Possible signs of forced entry.

Gonna let Charlie out to sniff around.

Copy that.

I need an information on K309 at Conrad and Gardner.

Dispatch, this is Guard 210 responding.

I'm about 8 Lobby and Connie on Lerner.

I'll head over now.

K309, Park Lieutenant on your team now.

He fucked us.

He fucked us.

Hey, guys.

We're looking for a lady in gold colored tie or...

Dispatch, got possible activity in here.

Charlie's all fired up over something.

Easy, easy boy.

Easy, easy.

Good boy, Charlie.

Good boy.

Good boy.

It's okay.

Who's a good boy?

You're a good boy.

Good boy.

Good boy, Charlie.

Good boy.

Who's a good boy?

Good boy, Charlie.

You're a good boy, Charlie.

Copy that.

I'm in.

What about the dog?

It's out here playing frisbee with me.

The thing was half dead to begin with.

Let me the fuck in.

Are you rearranging the fucking furniture?

Look, there's a van downstairs.

And a loading dock.

I bet you my whole share of the key's sitting

right there in the dead guy's fucking pocket.

Okay, let me the fuck in.

Pull that shit again and you're gonna stay out there.

Yeah, whatever.

Fuck!

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Run, man, go!

Run!

Kid, you hear me?

Look at me.

You okay?

Broke a rib.

I'll live.

Help me with the fucking kid.

Ah, Christ.

Fucking shit.

Hang in there.

We're gonna find something to make you return again.

Staunch the floor.

Clean it up.

Fuck!

Fuck!

Come on!

Come on!

Jesus!

Shit!

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

That's your prospect?

Ain't nothing but a pup.

I've been working him.

Shit.

Where the hell are you from?

Seattle, Britain.

All respect, man.

I don't think you want a tot going forty pounds uphill on the Russian.

Do I look like a young boy to you?

No, sir.

Take the fucking dog and put it in the corner.

Come on, boy.

You could call it if it's ugly.

You can't.

Release your dog.

No main cables.

Walker knows a good doctor.

Yeah, he came up doing cuts from Chuck Westmore, so he's seen a lot worse.

He'll get you squared away as soon as we get the fuck out of here.

Sorry about...

Yeah, well...

Sorry about your face.

Fucking weeble wobble, man.

What the fuck's a weeble wobble?

It's a toy.

Fucking weeble wobble, you know?

Weeble wobble, don't fall down.

Like a slinky.

You got it.

Tournament brackets.

Looks like it.

What are these?

Purses?

25, 50, 100, 200.

If it is, it's chump change.

Look at this guy.

Was he fighting pears?

Tough motherfucker.

Jesus.

Jesus, fuck.

This was last night.

Christ.

How long until sundown?

Call our ride at 50.

We'll get out that fire escape.

Yeah, well, what say you, kid?

Hm?

You a cat person, or are you more of a dog person?

Uh, dogs.

I used to love them books when I was little,

where they got them acting like people.

You know, driving around in cars, and then making deposits at the bank,

and then buying ice cream cones and all that.

Dad kept on having to whoop my ass for trying to talk to them.

Dogs?

I'd see them tied up outside the store, and I'd ask where they parked their trucks.

I always wanted one, but Pop said he could hardly keep us fed, so...

I had chickens and stuff.

And you're a farm boy?

No, just country.

A few egg hens, that busted-ass old milk cow.

I found this one dog by the side of the road when I was six.

Couldn't have been more than a couple years old.

He must have got hit by a car or something.

His leg was busted up real bad.

He was a shepherd, I think.

I knew my Pop wouldn't let me keep him.

The dog catcher just put him down.

So I hauled his poor ass all the way back to

this old shack we had out behind our house.

And Dad was drinking so much by then, I

knew the tool shed's the last place he'd be.

But this little dog was crying his eyes out.

He was crying so loud from the pain that first day,

I was sure he'd hear no matter how loaded he was.

I stayed in there all night, petting him and

begging him to be quiet till he finally calmed down.

Started bringing my lunches home from school.

At first, all he wanted was that cheese he'd peel off.

But a few days in, I had him grubbing on meatballs and smiley-faced tater tots and

chicken nuggets and all that, like a regular schoolboy.

Had to clean the shit-office for every day

because his leg was still too fucked to stand up.

But I didn't mind.

Nobody had ever been that heavy.

He was as happy to see me my whole life as when I walked in that room.

Tail wagging so hard against the ground, he's kicking up dust all over himself.

I'd hide food under my bed to save up for the weekends, you know?

It was June already.

Pretty soon, school was done.

I busted open my piggy bank, sold some baseball

cards I had from Christmas and bought him some food.

But I ran out after a week.

Had to swear I wouldn't come back to the only store in town after I got caught

racking Alpo to convince him not to tell my pop.

Only one place left to go for food.

I was having nightmares just thinking about it.

But the look on that dog's face after a couple days...

It was like not eating wasn't the worst of it for him.

Like he thought he was in trouble, you know?

Like he thought I was punishing him for something

and he couldn't figure out what it was he did wrong.

Started to get this froth around his lips.

Tail slowing down.

Two more days and it wasn't hardly moving at all.

Got so I couldn't stand it anymore.

Waited till late at night.

Never been so scared in my whole life.

Took a big old block of hamburg from the fridge.

Buried the wrapper with the chickens.

I can still see that dog's face when he saw me come in with it.

Swear to God, he's grinning at me just like a little kid.

Tears running down his nose.

He's crying.

He's so happy.

Next morning I woke up.

I came back in for my chores.

Chickens.

They must have dug it up.

I was praying while I ran.

Like if I prayed hard enough, everything was gonna be okay.

My dad.

He was waiting for me.

Worst part of it was...

Dog's got that same look he always did when he saw me come in.

Like he's smiling at me.

Tail just wagging away in the dust.

Stupid kid.

I'm really tired.

This person's in the other room.

I'm missing a couple of zeros.

Somebody's coming back for this.

It's a lot more than we got in that safe.

Not too much to carry out.

I'll pack.

I'll get the kit.

That'd be your lucky day out.

History's a rock.

Can't swim if you're holding it.

Whenever you're ready.

I'm gonna meet you out there.

Couple more jobs and I'm on a plane.

I won't wait.

Not even for you.

I'll see you by the sea.

Hey.

Hey.

It's okay.

I'm alright.

I'm alright.

Show me.

I'm alright as... Fucking show me, Walker.

Fuck.

I'm okay.

Here.

Look.

You fucking kidding me, man?

What?

I seen a guy in a joint take a boot party from the screws.

He looked just like that.

Went to sleep.

He never woke up.

Fuck that.

I just need to sit for a minute, man.

What the fuck are you doing?

Calling an ambulance.

Hey!

The fuck, man?

Solo.

You get out of here easy.

Just go.

Dad.

Downstairs.

You heard the kid.

I'll go down there, I'll take the key off the dead guy in the other room.

I'll come back and I'll scoop you.

Walk through that door?

That fucking dog is gonna eat you alive.

You wanna sit here and watch you bleed out in your own gut?

No.

I want you to go down the fucking fire escape and walk away.

Listen man, people don't recover from what you got without a fucking doctor.

Get yourself a ticket.

Shut up.

Get on a fucking plane and fly to the fucking beach.

What makes you think I didn't try?

What?

Man, when I walk past a place, I clock the traffic three blocks around.

How far to the street, how long to the nearest precinct, whether the roof's

softer than the walls, or if I can cut into the joint next door.

I see if the floors can support a strong box, whether I should load in a drill,

or if there's a pick point strong enough so I can drop the unit into a car downstairs.

It's been the same way since I was popping spoilers off a Supra's, doing house breaks

through doggy doors.

I packed my fucking packs, man.

I even bought one of those stupid things you put on your nose to keep the sun off.

But all I could think about when it was time to

go was how long before I blew it all to hell.

So I went ahead and I pulled the pin.

So where the fuck should I postpone the inevitable?

She's gone, Logan.

Five years fucking gone.

Yeah, she said she wouldn't wait.

All the books you read, the great romances, like Runaway Trains,

that roll over everything and gets in the way.

I don't know, don't you ever think that might not just be a fantasy?

You know?

You might be getting in the way of something that was meant to be.

And you're just scared so stupid you're laying

on the tracks instead of getting on board.

You know, every once in a while, even a degenerate

gambler can tell a guy when it's time to cash out.

She said...

Said she was gonna get a puppy when it came time to settle down.

Told me I could pick it out if I was ready to join her.

You said you couldn't leave.

She said she wouldn't wait.

But the way the two of you looked at each other, I think you might both be liars.

Both of us?

You say so.

It's your show.

Up.

Sit.

Sit.

Sit.

, Christ!

10 months later... Easy!

Easy boy!

Easy!

Easy...

What?

I said, easy!

It was hers.

Bluebells growing there.

Beautiful.

Our neighbor had a dog.

Spanish Mastiff.

Big bastard.

He did whatever the hell he pleased.

Kept on coming into the yard and digging up those bluebells.

My mom would cry each time.

She'd go out, try to fix the mess, put it all back together, and start fresh.

But that dog would go and do it all over.

I went to talk to the owner.

I asked him, please, to keep his pet out of our yard.

He was a big guy, even bigger than the dog.

And I was just a boy.

Well.

Well.

This Mastiff.

He went and did it again.

And again, and again, and again, and again.

So you know what I did?

I shot him.

The neighbor, I mean.

You see?

You see?

A beast cannot be...

...expected to understand private property.

But a man, even a stupid one, knows the difference between mine...

...and yours.

Like that bag you got under there.

And what I'm guessing you've got inside it...

Motherfucker.

Club fight Catch the

animal poisonous bugpush

That mastiff I was talking about, I took him in.

Dogs being a hobby of mine ever since.

I find them fascinating.

As many ways as we are different, just as many we are the same.

There is this thing I noticed.

An old dog been doing something a while.

It becomes almost automatic.

Like when you are making the same drive home every

day for 20 years and the car just drives you.

Let me put it simply.

You know how it goes teaching an old dog new tricks.

What they don't tell you is why it never sticks.

You see, an animal being acting a certain way for a while gets to be old.

And even if that behavior isn't working.

Even if they are eating pieces of the carpet or chewing up your shoes and

shitting out the laces until their guts are so tied up in knots they are half dead.

You've reached a certain point.

Well, it ain't unheard of for a bitch to stop

eating shoes, but I ain't never seen it myself.

It's not that complicated.

A dog that fights is a fighting dog.

A man that steals is a thief.

You want him to stop.

There is only one thing to do.

Well, look at you.

Come here boy.

Come here.

Good boy.

Good to you.

Come here boy.

Come here.

See?

See?

Fuck you.

Good boy.

No!

Help!

Help!

Help!

Help!

Help!

It's ok now.

It's ok now.

You are a good boy.