Original subtitles

(Sirens wailing)

(Gunshots)

Remember when they used to let commercial airlines land in this town?

Yeah. Well, I don't understand where we're going...

...or why the hell we're bothering anyhow.

- You're doing a good deed. - Wanna give us a better reason?

A maniac hijacked a municipal bus with 30 passengers on it.

That's a pretty good reason.

And I got a real bad hunch where those passengers are and who that maniac is.

You wanna share it with us?

Phoenix. Simon Phoenix.

Send a maniac to catch one.

Phoenix!

(Grunts)

(Grunting and shouting)

Don't move, Phoenix.

(Sniffs then gags)

You're under arrest.

(Laughs) Arrest? Shit.

And you're trespassing.

Where are the passengers?

Oh, yes, the passengers.

Well, they're, uh...

Fuck you.

The passengers are gone.

See, I told the city, I said, "Look, nobody comes down here."

Postmen figured it out...

...policemen figured it out.

But the goddamn bus drivers just wouldn't listen.

Last time, Phoenix.

Where are the hostages?

To hell with the hostages. This is between you and me.

(Clicks)

- Yeah. - What? What?

What you got, soldier boy? Do something.

Go ahead. (Laughs)

You're up to your ass in gasoline.

(Phoenix continues laughing)

Set your ass on fire.

Is it cold in here?

Or is it just me?

(Grunting and shouting)

Where are they, Phoenix?

Now, where did I put 'em?

I swear, I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached.

I'll keep that in mind.

(Shouting)

Damn it, John, I'm tired of this Demolition Man shit.

You were not supposed to come down here.

You were not supposed to attempt the arrest of Phoenix single-handed

and you were not supposed to blow anything up!

It's not me this time, Healy.

He dumped the gas and rigged the place to blow.

Yeah, right. You had nothing to do with that.

I know you've been trying to nail this psycho for two years.

But try remembering a little thing called official police procedure.

- So where are the hostages? - They're not here.

- What do you mean, they're not here? - He must've stashed them someplace else.

So how do you know they weren't in there? Are you sure?

Because I did a thermo check and there was eight of them, all part of his gang.

Wrong again!

Hey, you got something to say, scumbag?

- Just get him out of here. - (Officer) Let's go.

Oh, you motherfucker.

You and I are gonna have a nice long chat.

(Fireman) Captain! Captain!

Over here. There are bodies everywhere.

There must be 20 or 30.

They're everywhere.

See that, Captain? I told him. He said he didn't care.

Oh, my God! How could you sacrifice all those innocent people for little old me?

- Phoenix! - What kind of man are you?

We're gonna spend a lot of quality time together. See you, sweetie!

Honey! Sugar!

You got a lawyer, you better call him.

(Smithers) John Spartan, you've done great deeds for the city of Los Angeles.

So it is with some regret that I, William Smithers,

acting as assistant warden, hereby carry out this sentence.

Skip it.

Sergeant Spartan, you've been sentenced

to 70 years' sub-zero rehabilitation in the California Cryo-Penitentiary

for the involuntary manslaughter of 30 innocent civilians.

Skip it.

(Smithers) You'll be placed in cryostasis for the duration of your sentence,

during which your behavior will be altered through synaptic suggestion.

You'll be eligible for parole no earlier than the year 2046.

I'm sorry, Sergeant.

(EKG beeping slowly)

(PA) 'All personnel,

'the next scheduled parole hearing for prisoner Gilmour

'will take place at 0715.

'Warden William Smithers, report to Level A conference room.'

Mellow greetings, Warden William Smithers.

'Be well, Lieutenant Lenina Huxley.'

As it is a beautiful Monday morning

and as my duty log irrationally requires it

I'm hereby querying you on the prison population update.

Does the tedium continue?

Your questioning is as amusing as it is irrelevant.

The prisoners are ice cubes. They never move.

'I find this lack of stimulus to be truly disappointing.'

- Don't you think? - 'I try not to.

'However, you're young. Think all you want.

'Things don't happen anymore. We've taken care of all that.

'I'll Fiber Op you back after the morning parole hearings.

'Have a peachy day, Lieutenant. Be well.'

Be well.

(Computer) 'Vector 137.

'Upcoming, Santa Monica Boulevard.'

(Computer) 'Retina coding accepted, Warden William Smithers. Be well.'

Go on.

(Grunts)

- Self-drive on. - (Computer) 'Self-drive engaged.'

Huxley, Lenina coding on.

(Computer) 'No police presence is requested in the city at this time.

'Report to the station.'

Oh, boy, how exciting.

(Crowd murmuring)

(Man) That's it.

Food, glorious food. There'll be another one in about 12 hours.

These assholes are nothing if not predictable.

God, I love to hate this place.

There's not enough of us, Friendly.

That doesn't really matter anymore, does it, Crow?

People are hungry.

We got nothing left to lose.

Greetings, Erwin.

Lovely Lenina.

Greetings and salutations.

Welcome to the emergency line of the San Angeles Police Department.

If you'd prefer an automated response, press 1 now.

(Woman) Be well, Lieutenant.

Mellow greetings, Lenina Huxley.

Let me guess, all is serene?

On the contrary, it's been a horrific am.

There was defacement of public buildings.

Walls smudged with... scandalous graffiti.

Really?

Brutal. Why wasn't there an all-cars notified?

Because there was no need to create widespread panic.

Lieutenant Huxley,

I monitored your disheartening and distressing comments

to the warden this morning.

Do you really long for chaos and disharmony?

Your fascination with the vulgar 20th century seems to be affecting your better judgment.

You realize you're setting a bad example for other officers and sworn personnel.

Thank you for the attitude readjustment, Chief Earle.

Info assimilated.

Sanctimonious asshole.

(Buzzer sounds)

(Computer) 'Lenina Huxley, you are fined one half credit

'for a sotto voce violation of the verbal morality statute.'

Thank you.

(Groans)

(Sighs)

Phew, that was tense.

- That was tense? - Yes.

Tell me something, Garcia,

don't you get bored code-tracing perps who break curfew and tell dirty jokes?

No, I find my job deeply fulfilling.

I just cannot get over the reality of this office, Lenina Huxley.

You're still addicted to the 20th century.

High from its harshness. Buzzed by its brutality.

Holy smokes!

I mean, is there anything in this office which doesn't violate Contraband Ordinance 22?

Only you, Alfredo Garcia.

Don't you ever want something to happen?

Goodness, no.

I knew you were gonna say that.

(Groans)

What I wouldn't give for some action.

Mr. Simon Phoenix.

One of our first and most illustrious members.

Allow me to welcome you to your parole hearing.

Let's get this one over quick.

Twenty-nine years ago, the parole system as you know it...

(Speaking in Spanish)

...was rendered obsolete.

(Continues in Spanish)

Federal Statute 537-29...

(Phoenix continues speaking Spanish)

Stop it!

Do you have anything fresh to say on your behalf?

I thought not.

Yeah, I do.

Teddy bear.

(Grunting)

(Guard shouts)

How'd you know the password to the cuffs?

I wish I knew.

Simon says, "Die."

Yoo-hoo!

Warden...

...let's get this over quickly.

(Computer) 'Retina coding accepted, Warden William Smithers.

'Be well.'

Yeah, you too.

(Computer) '187. 187.

'Northwest quadrant. 187.'

(Computer beeping)

Oh, my. Oh, my.

I don't believe it.

(Computer) 'Northwest quadrant. 187.'

What's a 187?

I don't know.

(Computer) 'Cryoprison. Level 6.

'Identify code 187.

'MDK.

'Murder Death Kill.'

Murder Death Kill.

(Computer) 'Last recorded offense, September 25, 2010.

'Initiate search, confirming location.

'Cryoprison, Level 6.

'Two code 187s. Officer Jean Desjardins, guard.

'Officer Alfred Pamela, guard.

'Tracking. Live transmission diagnostic check, Warden William Smithers.'

(Gasps)

'Injuries: severe eye trauma, ruptured spleen,

'punctured lung, broken rib, internal bleeding.

'Condition critical.

'Vital signs failing.

'Imminent death.'

(EKG flatlining)

'Subject deceased.

'187, Warden William Smithers.

- 'Born February 14th, 1967...' - (Erwin vomiting)

'...died August 4th, 2032.'

- What's the matter with all of you? - The cryoprison, sir.

Three non-sanctioned life terminations.

(Computer) 'Do you wish to assign a coroner?'

(Officer) Murder Death Kills?

Three MDKs?

Access for me the cryopen's morning hearing schedule.

And then display for me a list of people interviewed for parole.

(Computer) 'Accessing cryoprison processing. Restricted information.

'Cocteau Cryoprison, morning hearing schedule.

August 4th, active file.

'Seven am, Hyde, Quentin.

Eight-fifteen, Peterson, Scott.

- 'Seven-thirty, Phoenix, Simon.' - It's Phoenix.

- Who? - (Lamb) Simon Phoenix.

- (Computer) 'Phoenix, Simon. Accessing.' - (Lamb) I knew him.

He's evil in a way you've never read about.

He's a criminal the likes of which you have never seen.

Hold that thought, Zachary Lamb.

Simon Phoenix's code, now.

(Computer) 'Access code for Phoenix, Simon. No code found.'

L-7, you're not coming down with another virus, are you?

- (Computer) 'Of course not.' - You don't get it, Lenina Huxley.

Phoenix isn't coded.

He was chilled back in the 20th,

before they started LoJacking everybody.

Declared his own kingdom in South Central LA.

- In a bad time, he was the worst. - (Computer) 'Emergency, code 187.

Emergency, code 187.

Locating stopped code.

'Murder Death Kill. Murder Death Kill.

Location, cryoprison parking area. Cryoprison, Level 6.

- No. - 'Main cryoprison parking zone.

'Enhancing image.

- 'Tracking Dr. Mostow.' - Oh, my.

(Computer) '187, deceased.

'Do you wish to assign a coroner?'

Tell me, L-7, is the doctor's conveyance still in the parking zone?

(Computer) 'The answer is no. Car missing.

'Doctor's conveyance is not in parking zone. It is in motion.'

Locate precise code-fix on doctor's conveyance.

(Computer) 'Fixing location. Beverly Hills.

- 'Robertson. Doheny.' - Yes.

(Computer) 'Beverly Drive.

'Doctor's vehicle has been code-fixed.

'Approaching the corner of Wilshire and Santa Monica Boulevard.'

Glorious.

Ah, fine work.

All nearby units, ProtectServe, Wilshire and Santa Monica.

- Unit 12 ProtectServe. - Apprehend fugitive.

Proceed with extreme assertiveness.

(Computer) 'Doctor's vehicle has been code-fixed.

'Approaching the corner of Wilshire and Santa Monica Boulevard.'

I don't know, Lately I just don't feel like there's anything special about me.

(Computer) 'You are an incredibly sensitive man,

'who inspires joy-joy feelings in all those around you.'

(Man shouts and Phoenix growls)

- Get out of here. - (Man) Excuse me, citizen.

I'm sorry.

'Greetings, citizen. How are you on this glorious day?

'You look great today!'

(Laughs)

Yeah, well, I feel good too.

(Computer) 'Angeles Information Network. Automated banking. City of San Angeles.'

Damn, I'm possessed.

Wonder if I can play the accordion, too.

(Computer) 'File code accepted.

'Friendly, Edgar. Code level 60.

Listed offenses: civil unrest...

(Man) 'Don't you hear a thought repeating in that brain of yours?

'The name Friendly, Edgar?

'Edgar Friendly.

'Don't you have a job to do?

'Don't you have someone to kill?

'Someone to kill.

'Someone to kill.'

(Computer) "Gun," noun. Portable firearm.

'This device was widely utilized in the urban wars of the late 20th century.

'Referred to as a "pistol"...'

Look, I don't need a history lesson.

Come on, HAL. Where are the goddamn guns?

(Buzzer sounds)

(Computer) 'You are fined one credit for a violation of the verbal morality statute.'

- Fuck you. - (Buzzer sounds)

'Your repeated violation of the verbal morality statute

'has caused me to notify the San Angeles Police Department.

'Please, remain where you are for your reprimand.'

Yeah, right. (Scoffs)

(Sirens wailing nearby)

Fuckers are fast, too.

(Buzzer sounds then Phoenix mimics buzzer)

'You are fined one credit for violation of the verbal morality statute.'

ProtectServe in place.

Four minutes, 15 seconds lapse.

Maniac is imminent. Request advice.

(Computer) 'With a firm tone of voice,

'demand maniac lie down with hands behind back.'

Simon Phoenix!

Lie down with your hands behind your back!

(Phoenix) 'What's this?

'Six of you. And such nice tidy uniforms.'

Oh, I'm so scared.

What, you guys don't have sarcasm anymore?

Maniac has responded with a scornful remark.

(Computer) 'Approach and repeat ultimatum in an even firmer tone of voice.

'Add the words "or else".'

Simon Phoenix!

Lie down on the ground...

or else!

(Computer) 'Anti-Graffiti Activation Program activated.

'Aborted. Human presence detected.

'Safety override code accepted.'

Lucky number seven.

(Groans then officers gasp)

OK.

(Grunting and shouting)

Olé!

(Cop #1) Did you see that?

We're police officers.

We're not trained to handle this kind of violence.

Hey, wait for me!

- (Cop #2) Let's go. - (Cop #1) Run away.

(Cop #3) Save yourself.

Come on.

Stupid.

(Scoffs)

(Phoenix whistling)

'Simon says, "Everybody stay!"

(All gasp)

'♪ And the home of the brave ♪

'Play ball!'

(Feedback ringing)

We've lost every camera for six blocks.

Go to Century City, 1200 millimeters.

(Garcia) He's going for the vehicle's battery coil.

It's pure capacitance gel.

(All gasp)

(Cocteau) The problem is not the defacement of public buildings

or the noise pollution caused by the exploding devices.

Allow me to explain.

The real problem lies in the man whose initials

mark the detonating graffiti on the streets of our peaceful city.

The man behind the EF:

Mr. Edgar Friendly.

For a sadly extended period of time,

we in San Angeles have been plagued by a pack of subterranean hooligans.

You will come to know them as "scraps".

Men and women who have left the comfort of our society

only to spew hostility at the very bosom that they have relinquished.

There was a time when we used to look upon these scraps

as rather pathetic and relatively harmless.

Now they have a leader.

Mr. Friendly seems relentless in his ambition to infect our harmony with his venom.

He must, of course, be stopped.

This radical terrorist behavior, led by Mr. Friendly,

must not be allowed to undermine our safety.

Safety above all.

I expect your trust, confidence and certitude.

If you'll excuse me.

Dr. Cocteau, a CryoCon has effected self-release from the penitentiary.

It's quite horrific. Murder Death Kills, all categories of chaos.

Enhance your calm. Enhance your...

"Be well" them for me.

Get me Captain George Earle immediately.

It was just...

I mean, it was so...

How can a man be so blatantly sadistic?

It was fun for him.

I want you to do everything in your power to snare this agent of destruction.

You have my utmost confidence.

It will be done, Dr. Cocteau.

'Be well.'

"Utmost confidence."

"Everything in our power."

What else is there?

Zachary Lamb,

how was the fiendish Simon Phoenix apprehended back in the 20th?

Twelve-state manhunt.

Satellite surveillance.

A video bite on "Unsolved Mysteries".

None of them worked.

In the end, it took just one man.

One cop.

John Spartan.

- John Spartan? - (Lamb) That's right.

They called him the Demolition Man.

(Computer) 'Spartan file 98345, LAPD.

'Spartan file 98761C, LAPD.'

Are you sure this is real life?

Barely.

Spartan is a legend.

I've been doing a historical study. Over 1000 arrests over three years.

All authentic criminals.

There was a lot more business back then.

How can you justify destroying a $7-million mini mall

'to rescue a girl whose ransom is only $25,000?'

'Fuck you, lady.'

(Spartan) 'Good answer.'

This is your recommendation?

The Demolition Man's an animal.

He's clearly the man for a job such as this. You could reinstate him.

He's a musclebound grotesque

who hasn't worn a shield in 40 years.

Simon Phoenix is an old-fashioned criminal.

We need an old-fashioned cop.

(Computer) 'Cryo plugs 312 and 618 are vacant

'and ready for routine maintenance and inspection.'

Transporting cryoprisoner Spartan to the MTL.

Got it. OK.

(Computer) 'John Spartan, 5864.

Pulmonary activity approaching normal.

'Body temperature, 63 percent and rising.

'Biolink engaged.

'Laser defibrillation sequence started.

Plasma transfer in 15 seconds.

'Plasma transfer, ten seconds,

'eight seconds, six seconds...

'Plasma transfer complete.

'MTL complete.'

Hunting down an escaped CryoCon by releasing another one?

I am unconvinced.

This is within the powers of the police charter, sir.

He can be released on limited parole and reinstated to active duty.

It's not enough to collect the '90s, you bring them back to life?

(Huxley) Dr. Cocteau said everything within our power.

I can't think of a better idea.

That still doesn't mean it's a good one.

This man comes from a dissimilar method of law enforcement.

I'm not sure he's any different than Simon Phoenix himself.

(Huxley) Detective?

Detective, I am Lieutenant Lenina Huxley.

The year is 2032.

Now, the reason you have been released is...

How long have I been under?

Thirty-six years.

I had a wife.

What happened to my wife?

Her light was extinguished in the Big One of 2010.

Um... she died.

In an earthquake.

The earthquake.

I had a daughter.

I made a promise. What happened to her?

John Spartan, I am Chief of Police George Earle.

We didn't thaw you out for a family reunion.

Consider it fortunate the lieutenant even bothered to do a probe on your wife.

This is about you and the CryoCon Simon Phoenix.

What?

This morning, Simon Phoenix escaped from this cryo facility.

We've had 11 Murder Death Kills so far.

You see, we have become a society of peace,

loving and... and understanding,

and we are, quite frankly, not equipped to deal with this situation.

There have been no deaths of unnatural causes in San Angeles in 16 years.

Where?

The Santa Barbara-Los Angeles-San Diego Metroplex were merged in 2011.

You are in the center of what used to be Los Angeles.

(Spartan) That's crazy.

- You, get me a Marlboro. - Yes, of course. Right away.

What's a Marlboro?

It's a cigarette. Any cigarette.

Uh... smoking is not good for you.

And it has been deemed that anything not good for you is bad.

Hence, illegal. Alcohol, caffeine, contact sports, meat...

- Are you shitting me? - (Buzzer sounds)

(Computer) 'John Spartan, you are fined one credit

'for violation of the verbal morality statute.'

What the hell is that?

(Buzzer sounds)

- (Computer) 'You are fined one credit...' - Bad language,

chocolate, gasoline, uneducational toys and anything spicy.

Abortion is also illegal, but then again so is pregnancy if you don't have a license.

(Earle) Caveman,

let's finish with all the Rip Van Winkle and get moving.

A Mr. Phoenix has risen from the ashes.

Uh-huh. I tracked that dirt bag for two years

and when I finally bring him down, you turn me into an ice cube for my trouble.

Thanks, but no, thanks.

The conditions of your parole are full reinstatement into the SAPD

and immediate assignment to the apprehension of Simon Phoenix.

Or...

...you can go back into cryostasis.

Not many people get a second chance, John Spartan.

- Here you go. - Will do.

Any new inforama on Simon Phoenix?

There is nothing, Lenina Huxley.

Where's your John Spartan?

Oh, he went to the bathroom. I guess he got all thawed out.

Oh.

Sir, I formally convey my presence.

How you doing?

We are not used to physical-contact greetings.

(Officer) Oh, germs.

Look, I don't know if you guys know it, but you're...

...you're out of toilet paper.

(Garcia) Did you say toilet paper?

Oh. They used handfuls of wadded paper back in the 20th.

(All chuckling)

I'm happy that you're happy, but the place where you're supposed to have toilet paper

you've got this little shelf with three seashells.

He doesn't know how to use the three seashells.

I can see how that could be confusing.

(Lamb) I don't believe it. Is that you, Spartan?

No. Zach?

Zach Lamb?

What happened to you?

I got older.

My God, I remember when you were a snot-nosed rookie pilot.

They finally grounded me.

Shit, you were a damn good flyer.

(Buzzer sounds twice)

(Computer) 'You are fined two credits for violation of the verbal morality statute.'

I'll be right back.

They seem to be friends, yet he speaks to him in the most profane manner.

Well, if you'd read my study,

you would know that this is how insecure heterosexual males used to bond.

I knew that.

Thanks a lot, you shit-brained, fuck-faced, ball-breaking...

(Buzzer sounding)

- ...duck-fucking pain in the ass. - (Computer) 'You're fined five credits

'for repeated violations of the verbal morality statute.'

So much for the seashells.

See you in a few minutes.

(Computer) 'Waiting for command. Voice check, Lenina Huxley.'

(Huxley) Unfortunately Simon Phoenix was not coded.

While you were sleeping, everyone in the city was installed code.

It was a brilliant idea by Dr. Cocteau that an organic bio-engineered microchip

be sewn into the skin.

Sensors all over the city can zero in on anyone at any time.

I can't even conceive a visual of what you police officers did before it was developed.

We worked for a living. This fascist crap makes me wanna puke.

What do you think you're scratching, caveman?

You really think we'd let you go without control?

Your code was implanted the second you thawed.

- Why not just shove a leash up my ass? - (Buzzer sounds)

- You dirty meat-eater! - (Computer) 'You are fined one credit...'

No matter how Viking your era was, I cannot digest how you ever wore a badge.

You're going back, John Spartan. Oh, yes, you're going back.

Could you two please dump some hormones?

We need every cortex we can get in this situation.

We don't need the Neanderthal.

Our computer has already examined every feasible scenario

resulting from the appearance of Simon Phoenix.

It is determined he will attempt to set up a new drug lab and form a crime syndicate.

(Computer) 'That is correct, Chief George Earle.'

Look, I hate to interrupt you two lovebirds, but that's really fucking stupid.

- (Buzzer sounds) - You think he wants to start a business?

Phoenix is going for a gun, plain and simple.

Trust me. He's going for a gun.

Who cares what this primate thinks?

Resonate some understanding.

The only place a person can even view a gun in this city is at a museum.

(PA) 'Welcome to the San Angeles Museum of History.

'Beneath you, you will see an excavation of an actual 20th-century street scene

- 'in downtown Los Angeles...' - Now, good.

'...preserved since the earthquake of 2010.'

(Mocking Chinese language)

'For specific information concerning objects featured in the exhibit...'

(Computer) 'Firearms are on display in the Armory.'

(PA) '...located on Level A.

'You are now entering the Hall of Violence,

'a visual representation of the primitive behavior

'prevalent during the late 20th century.'

Home, sweet home.

Ooh.

(Huxley) John Spartan, even if Simon Phoenix was able

to locate the cache of firearms, it would be impossible for him to remove them.

(Garcia) She's right. They're located in a maximum-security armory exhibit.

(Spartan) It's just a hunch. So trust me on this.

It's a cop thing.

(Huxley) And what am I, a frog?

- Excuse me. - (Huxley) Yes?

I'll drive.

(Huxley) I see.

(Computer) 'Resetting all bio-links for new driver.

'Weight, height, peripheral vision set.

'If you would like to commence transportation, John Spartan...

'initialize sequence now.'

You drive.

(Computer) 'Welcome, Lieutenant Lenina Huxley.

You seem very much alone, John Spartan, but things aren't all that different.

Perhaps you'd like to hear an oldies station? Oldies.

(♪ Upbeat jingle playing)

This is the most popular station in town.

Wall-to-wall mini-tunes. You called them "commercials".

(Radio) 'Here's that classic you've been waiting for.

'The number one request of the day, "Armor Hot Dogs". '

Yes!

- '♪ Eat Armor Hot Dogs ♪' - Wow. This is my fave.

♪ Skinny Kids, kids who climb on rocks

'♪ Tall kids, sissy kids...'

♪ Even kids with chicken pox love hot dogs

♪ Armor Hot Dogs

♪ The dogs kids love to bite ♪

Somebody put me back in the fridge.

(PA) 'You are now entering the armory exhibit.

'You will find displayed in the cabinets and walls...'

So sorry. Didn't see you there.

'...various weapons used for violent life termination

'in wars and urban disturbances during the 19th and 20th centuries.'

- Oh, shit. - (Buzzer sounds)

(Computer) 'You are fined one credit for a violation of the verbal morality statute.'

(Phoenix laughing)

Yes. Now, this is what I'm talking about.

How do you get in here?

Hey, hey. I gotta wait that 15-day waiting period?

Or can I just, like, take one now?

(Groaning)

- You motherfucker. - (Buzzer sounds)

(Phoenix shouting)

- Fuck it. - (Buzzer sounds)

Mellow greetings. What seems to be your boggle?

My boggle?

(Grumbles softly)

How much do you weigh?

Well, I happen to weigh...

(Man shouting)

(All murmuring)

(PA) 'Please, vacate the museum, patrons. Be calm.

'Please, vacate the museum, patrons. Be calm.'

Wait a minute. This is the future.

Where are all the phaser guns?

Ah.

Mellow greetings, sir. What's your boggle?

(PA) 'Please, exit rapidly.

'Warning. Please, exit rapidly.'

(Computer) 'The magnetic accelerator gun,

'the last produced handheld weapon of this millennium,

'displaced the flow of neutrons

'through a nonlinear cycloid electromagnetic accumulator.'

So, what? It needs batteries?

What size? I mean, where the fuck do you find batteries in the future?

Is there a battery store around, motherfucker?

- (Buzzer sounds) - Excuse me, museum patron. Can I...

Well, where's the Radio Shack?

- Huh? - (Alarm blaring)

Whoo! Sweet music to my ears.

(Computer) 'When activated, the magnetic accelerator gun

'will achieve fusion in 2.6 minutes.'

Well, I was thinking about leaving quickly. Patience is not one of my virtues.

Did you see that?

What?

Never mind. I give up trying to figure this place out.

Excuse me, Rambo. I need to borrow this.

Access and correlate procedure.

(Computer) 'Establish communication with maniac intruder.'

Wrong.

- Luke Skywalker, use the Force. - Oh, dear.

- What the hell is this? - It's a glow-rod. It's what we got.

- Does it work? - Well, um...

Guess so.

We have him trapped in section 8.

I doubt it, Huxley. Now, make sure that building's clear.

Done. I want a visual, now!

Every corridor of the museum. I want full sensors routed to me

- and I want it 90 seconds ago. - Hmm.

You guys wait here. Give me ten minutes.

(PA) 'Patron, you are now confined to the armory.

'Museum patron, you are now confined to the armory.'

(Chuckling)

'The armory exhibit is now sealed.

All museum patrons still occupying the facility should remain calm.

'Help is imminent.'

(Phoenix) This museum is no longer sealed, is it?

(Phoenix laughing)

What can I say? I'm a blast from the past.

You should've stayed there.

Oh, boy, that voice sounds familiar. Who is that?

(Spartan) Bad aim, blondie.

Spartan? John Spartan?

Aw, shit, they let anybody into this century. What the hell are you doing here?

Simon says, "Bleed!"

(Spartan) Great. Just great.

You're making it too easy for me, Phoenix.

Come on, you space-age piece of shit.

So, let me get this right.

They defrosted you just so you could lasso my piddly ass? Damn, you been had.

I've been dreaming about killing you for 40 years.

Yeah? Well, keep dreaming.

Ooh, wow!

Oh, shit!

(Gun beeping)

(Computer) 'Acc-Mag now reactivated.'

It's about time.

Past is over, John. Time for something new and improved.

Oh, hell.

Holy shit! I love this gun! Goddamn!

(Shouting and grunting)

How do you like me in the future, John, huh?

Come on, Phoenix. Come on!

Oh, I know that must have hurt.

Huh, soldier boy?

- You're on TV. - Oh, shit!

You're dead, Spartan.

Forgot to say, "Simon says."

Oh, shit.

Good one.

Such a brave new world. Sorry you gotta go.

Shit.

(Crowd chattering)

Our noble facility has been desecrated by hooligans.

Someone will pay dearly for this.

Sir, the stress breeder is inside being demobilized as we speak.

(Gunshots)

Shit. Being frozen must have thrown my aim off.

Don't worry, I'll get you with the next shot.

I don't think so.

(Cocteau laughing)

No kiss-kiss, no bang-bang.

And you were doing so well.

Now, don't you have a job to do? Hmm?

Isn't there a thought repeating in that barbaric brain of yours?

The name Friendly.

Mr. Edgar Friendly.

Don't you have someone to kill?

- Yeah, I do. - Excellent.

Then go and do your job.

Phoenix!

Shit. Saved by the bell.

Shit.

Damn.

You don't know how lucky you are that maniac didn't whack you.

Well, I must say that whacking, whatever it is, sounds most disagreeable.

Well, you scared him away.

I don't know how to thank you. You saved my life.

No problem.

Not bad for a 74-year-old.

Simon Phoenix knows he has some competition.

He's finally matched his meat.

You really licked his ass.

That's "met his match" and "kicked his ass".

Met? "Met his match" and "kicked his ass".

(Cocteau) Captain Earle.

Who is this man?

Detective John Spartan,

temporarily reinstated to the San Angeles Police Department

to pursue the escaped CryoCon Simon Phoenix.

You told us to do everything in our power to capture the madman.

Oh, yes. Yes, I did. I did.

Yes, I do recall the exploits of Mr. John Spartan.

Yes. Didn't they call him... Yes, of course, the Demolition Man.

It's quite alright, Chief.

Unexpected. Creative.

But quite alright.

John Spartan, welcome.

Now, in honor of your arrival and your protection of the sanctity of human life,

namely my own,

I would like to invite you to join me to dinner tonight. The both of you.

Please, I insist.

I would like you to accompany me to Taco Bell.

I look forward to it. Thank you.

- Taco Bell? - Yes.

So let me get this right:

Spacely Sprockets here, who's now the man in charge, the mayor/gov

who wants to take me to dinner at Taco Bell,

though Lord knows I wouldn't mind a burrito,

is also one of the guys who built the goddamn cryoprison?

- (Buzzer sounds) - (Computer) 'John Spartan, you are fined...'

Thanks.

Dr. Cocteau is the most important man in San Angeles.

He practically created our whole way of life, savage.

Yeah? Well, he can have it.

Now, Phoenix could be anywhere,

but not being coded could hurt him and limit his options.

That is correct. Money is outmoded. All transactions are through codes.

Alright, so he can't buy food or a place to stay for the night.

It'd be a waste of time to mug somebody.

Unless he rips off someone's hand, let's hope he doesn't figure that one out.

But with all officers already patrolling in a citywide crisis net,

it should be just a matter of tick-tocks before we...

More importantly, we already have a backup plan.

We can just wait for another code to go red.

And when Phoenix performs another Murder Death Kill,

we'll know exactly where to pounce.

- Great plan. - Thank you.

He likes your plan, Chief.

I've been an enthusiast of your escapades for quite some time now.

I have in fact, I perused some newsreels from the Schwarzenegger Library.

- And that time that you took that car... - Hold it.

The Schwarzenegger Library?

Yes, the Schwarzenegger Presidential Library.

Wasn't he an actor when...?

- Stop. He was president? - Yes.

Even though he was not born in this country,

his popularity at the time caused the 61st Amendment...

I don't wanna know.

President.

What the hell is this? What, no door? No welcome mat?

What is this?

What kind of people are these? How do they expect you to kill somebody?

Oh, shit, I love that smell. Reminds me of biscuits and gravy.

Alright. A job is a job.

Edgar Friendly, whoever the fuck you are, prepare for Simon Phoenix.

So, what's with this Cocteau guy anyway?

He says I saved his life, which I'm not even sure I did.

And my reward is dinner and dancing at Taco Bell?

I mean, hey, I like Mexican food, but come on.

Your tone is quasi-facetious, but you do not realize

that Taco Bell was the only restaurant to survive the Franchise Wars.

So?

So now all restaurants are Taco Bell.

No way.

Welcome to Taco Bell.

Enjoy your meal, sir.

(♪ Band playing "Jolly Green Giant")

♪ Valley of the Jolly Green Giant

♪ Good things from the garden

♪ Garden in the valley

- ♪ Valley of the Jolly Green Giant... ♪ - (Woman) Be well.

I'll take that.

Oh. Here comes the Neanderthal.

Mr. Spartan, over there, please, and Lieutenant...

Thank you. Would you...?

- Yes. - (Huxley) Hi.

- How are you guys doing? - (Man) Mellow, thank you.

(Cocteau) Fine. Yes.

(Waiter) Enjoy-joy your meal, sir.

Good thing I'm hungry.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to ask you to raise your glasses

to the hero of the hour, my savior, Detective John Spartan.

(All) John Spartan.

Appreciate it.

Greetings and salutations.

I'm Associate Bob.

We met before, ever so briefly. I was groveling in fear at the time.

You got the salt over there, Bob?

Um... salt is not good for you, hence it is ille...

So, John Spartan, tell me, what do you think of San Angeles, 2032?

Well, considering the way things were going when I went in,

I thought the future would be a rotting cesspool.

Well, you weren't here when the real disturbances began.

Civilization tried to destroy itself.

The city degenerated into a total fear zone.

The citizenry cocooning in their homes, afraid to go out.

People just wanted the madness over.

So when I saw the chance to make things right, I seized it.

If I had not, the radiance of San Angeles would not be here.

Just your rotting cesspool of hate and suffering. Which would you prefer?

Maybe you can book me a flight out of here when your sermon's over?

John Spartan, for your crimes, you would surely have died in jail before now.

Even you must appreciate the persuasively tranquil humanity

of the cryoprison system.

I don't wanna spoil your dinner, pal, but my cryo-sentence was no sweet lullaby.

I had feelings and I had thoughts.

Having a 36-year nightmare about people caught in a burning building.

You were awake? I don't think so.

I do think so.

And my wife beating her fists against a block of ice that used to be her husband.

Then you were nice enough to wake me up,

let me know everything that meant something in my life is gone.

Would have been more humane to stake me down and leave me to the fucking crows.

(Buzzer sounds)

What would you say if I called you a brutish fossil

symbolic of a decayed era gratefully forgotten?

I don't know. "Thanks"?

I thought during rehabilitation, the prisoners were not conscious.

A person would go insane.

(Cocteau) The side effects of the cryo process are unavoidable.

You were found guilty of criminal charges.

You owed and still do owe a debt to society.

- I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do. - Yeah, there is.

Call for backup. I'll be across the street.

John Spartan, where are you going?

Bad guys about to do bad things. It's just one of those hunches again.

(People shouting)

- (Man) Come on. - (Friendly) Go for the truck.

The food's in the truck.

Grab the big bottle. Come on, move, move, move.

(Grunting and shouting)

You're gonna regret this the rest of your life. Both seconds of it.

Good night.

Get him!

(All shouting)

(Crowd gasps)

(Cheering)

What a fucking hero. Come on.

Please, don't.

(Spartan) What the hell?

Such reckless abandonment.

Looks like there's a new shepherd in town.

That's "sheriff". Who were those guys?

(Cocteau) They're known as scraps.

Outcasts and deserters who choose to live beneath us

in sewers and abandoned tunnels.

They're a constant irritation to our harmony.

They're nothing but thugs and hooligans.

A society of thieves. The last remaining criminal element in the city.

But plans are in progress to purge this peril from our day.

You are even better live than on LaserDisc.

And the joy-joy way you paused to make a glib witticism before doing battle

with that strangely-weaponed scrap, and those punches...

Huxley, look, this isn't the Wild West, OK?

The Wild West wasn't even the Wild West.

Hurting people's not a good thing. Well, sometimes it is,

but not when it's a bunch of people looking for something to eat.

(PA) 'San Angeles time is now 2215.'

Huxley coding off. Auto-drive.

(Computer) 'Auto-drive engaged.'

Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you back there.

No need to make a de-hurtful retraction.

I've just assimilated too much contraband.

I fleshed you out as some "blow up the bad guy with a happy grin" he-man type.

But now I realize that you're the "moody troubled-past gunslinger

"who will only draw when he must" type.

- Huxley, stop. - What?

I'm not any of that. I just do my job and things get...

Demolished.

You know, I keep looking around

and I think about my daughter growing up in a place like this.

And I'm afraid she's gonna think I'm some kind of primitive.

I mean, as much as I wanna see her, I almost don't wanna.

Because I don't think I'm gonna fit into the picture very well.

Not very well at all.

It would be a minor misuse of police powers, but I... I can do a search for you.

(Spartan) No.

Sorry.

Oh, subject change. I got what you wanted.

Oh, great.

What do you need that for?

It's just one of those cop hunches again.

(Cocteau) Lights.

(Phoenix) No. I've changed that.

Illuminate.

Deluminate.

(Phoenix chuckles)

Hoo! Isn't that nicer?

Go ahead, you try it.

Illuminate.

Raymond, Raymond, we've got to talk.

How did you get in?

Wish I knew. I got pass codes.

Routes to secret underground kingdoms.

Complete access to the industrial data-grid interface.

I don't even know what that shit means.

(Buzzer sounds)

I've been meaning to ask you, because I like it.

I like it a lot.

Your skills were given to you for a reason.

Not for your personal amusement.

Your job is to kill Mr. Edgar Friendly and stop a revolution before it precipitates.

That was why you were rehabilitated.

Alright. I'm gonna do your little dastardly deed for you.

But it's gonna be a little bit more difficult than you thought.

And I'm gonna need some help.

I'll need about five or six more special men.

And I just so happen to have a list.

You see, I wouldn't want you to defrost any of those mad dog killer types,

you know what I mean?

And none of those motherfuckers from New York. They're too uptight.

So you're going to be the only mad dog killer type, right?

Exactamundo.

Fine.

Take care of it.

Just get it over with.

You're beginning to be more trouble than you're worth.

Oh, Raymond, don't say that.

And what do I get out of all this?

What do you want?

Malibu.

Santa Monica. Hell, what about all the coastal cities?

Well, I'll bear it in mind.

- Good, I'll send you a memo. - Just do your job!

What is John Spartan doing here? Huh?

Did you invite him to this little party of ours?

Look, you finish your business and I'll stuff him back in the freezer.

Think of him as a guarantee.

A guarantee?

You don't have much of a guarantee.

I took care of Spartan once, I'll take care of him again.

Now we need those men defrosted.

(Spartan) So this is where you live, Huxley?

Very not bad.

(Huxley) Thank you.

(Spartan) So where will I be staying?

(Huxley) Oh, I've procured you a domicile right down the corridor from my own.

Everything is voice coded, so if you need something, just ask.

Lights.

What do you think?

Clicked off a lot of credits to create the perfect 20th-century apartment.

Huxley, it's very...

- Isn't it? - (Spartan laughs)

John Spartan...

...there is, of course, a well-known and documented connection

between sex and violence.

Not so much a causal effect, but a general state of neurological arousal.

And after having observed your behavior this evening

and my resultant condition...

...um... I was wondering if you would like to have sex.

- With you? - Mm-hm.

- Here? (Chuckles) Now? - Mm-hm.

Oh, yeah.

Great!

I'll be right back.

(♪ "The Love Boat" theme playing on stereo)

"Love Boat"?

OK.

There you go.

Now, just relax. We'll begin in a few seconds.

Begin what?

Having sex, of course.

(Huxley clears throat)

(Breathing deeply)

(Spartan grunting)

(Huxley) Yes. Yes!

What's wrong? You broke contact.

Contact? I didn't even touch you yet.

But I thought you wanted to make love.

Is that what you call this?

Vir-sex has been proven to produce high alpha waves

during digitized transference of sexual energies.

Alright, Huxley. What do you say we just do it the old-fashioned way?

Ew! Disgusting!

You mean... fluid transfer?

No, I mean boning, the wild mambo, the hunka-chunka.

That is no longer done.

The exchange of bodily fluids, do know what that leads to?

Yeah, I do. Kids, smoking, a desire to raid the fridge.

The rampant exchange of bodily fluids was one of the major reasons

for the downfall of society.

After AIDS, there was NRS. After NRS, there was UBT.

And one of the first things that Dr. Cocteau was able to do

was to outlaw and behaviorally engineer all fluid transfer

out of societally acceptable behavior.

Not even... not even mouth transfer is condoned.

- Kissing's not allowed? - Ugh!

Damn, I was a good kisser.

(Groans)

Alright, so what about kids?

- Procreation? - Yeah.

We go to a lab.

Fluids are purified, screened

and transferred by authorized medical personnel only.

It is the only legal way.

What are you doing?

Breaking the law.

You are a savage creature, John Spartan.

And I wish you to leave my domicile now.

Look, you know...

(Computer) 'Code accepted. Be well, John Spartan.'

(Grunts and glass shatters)

Lights.

"He doesn't know how to use the three seashells."

Happy Halloween.

"Behavioral engineering"?

'Hi, Martin, you know I was thinking... Oh, my God, I'm sorry, wrong number.'

(Sighs)

(Cocteau) 'Our noble facility has been desecrated by hooligans.

'Someone will pay dearly for this.'

'Sir, the stress breeder is inside being demobilized as we speak.'

(Phoenix) 'Shit. Being frozen must have thrown my aim off.

'Don't worry, I'll get you with the next shot.'

(Cocteau) 'I don't think so.

'No kiss-kiss, no bang-bang.'

- Detective. - Listen, I'm sorry about last night.

Here, I made this for you.

- For me? - Yeah.

Thank you.

Oh, I'll drive.

- I gotta learn to do this once in my life. - OK.

Thank you for the lovely gift.

Look, I don't know what you guys put into my cryo sludge.

But when I thawed out, the first thing I wanted to do was knit.

I mean, how come I know what a zipperfoot, a shuttle,

a hook and bobbin, and a petitpoint is?

I could weave a throw rug right now with my eyes closed.

(Chuckles) It's part of your rehab program.

For each inmate, the computer draws up a skill or trade

which best suits their genetic disposition.

And it would implant the knowledge and the desire

to carry out whatever training was assigned.

I'm a seamstress?

Oh, that's just great.

I come out of cryoprison and I'm Betsy fucking Ross?

And Phoenix comes out and he can access computers, operate all vehicles,

knows the location of everything in town

and is three times stronger than when he went in?

Can you get me Phoenix's rehab program now?

Sure.

- I'm a seamstress. - (Huxley) Access code for Simon Phoenix.

(Computer) 'Access Simon Phoenix.

'Accessing.

'Access denied.'

- (Huxley) What? - (Computer) 'Security override.'

(Huxley) This can't be right.

'Access granted, Officer Huxley.

'Accessing Simon Phoenix, Deepfile rehab 65-R.

'Urban Combatkill. Torture Methodology. Computer Override Authority...'

There must be some mistake.

'Terrorism Tactics. Weapons Training. Martial Arts. Murder Death Kill.

'Explosives Technician. Violent Behavior.'

- This isn't a proper rehab program. - No kidding.

This would create a monster.

- Who develops these programs? - Well, Cocteau Industries, of course.

But why would the benevolent Dr. Cocteau send such a brute savage into our midst?

That's a good question. Why don't we go ask him?

No, John Spartan. You do not accuse the savior of our city

of being connected with a multi-Murder Death Killer like Simon Phoenix.

It's... rude.

I'll be subtle.

I'm good at subtle.

(Cocteau on PA) 'Mellow greetings.

'We are happy to welcome you to the Cocteau Behavioral Engineering Complex.

'Be well.'

- Enhance your calm, John Spartan. - Mmm.

(Cocteau) 'Mellow apologies for my lack of physical disposition, Detective,

'but I do have an entire city/gov to run.'

Yeah? Well, run this.

You programmed Phoenix's rehab to turn him into a terrorist.

And I don't think his escape was an accident either.

- Very subtle. - Thank you.

Outside the museum, why didn't he blow your brains out? What did you say to him?

'I honestly don't remember. Does it matter?'

Yeah, it matters. I saw the security disk.

He had a full ten seconds to figure out where to put the hole in your fucking head.

(Buzzer sounds)

'John Spartan, this display of barbaric behavior

'was unacceptable even in your time.'

Yeah. But it worked.

When a man like Phoenix has a gun to your head

ten seconds is nine and a half seconds longer than you live.

'Not everyone is as eager as you to resort to violence to solve all the difficulties in life.

'Even now, I'm beginning to wonder if the chaos in the museum

'was the result of Mr. Phoenix's presence or your own.'

Wonder about this, shithead.

(Buzzer sounds)

If you think you got this maniac under control, trust me, you don't.

Is there something specific you plan to do with that archaic device?

John Spartan.

No, I didn't think so.

Detective, the only thing I haven't got under control is you.

But that can be solved.

You, my Cro-Magnon friend, are dead.

Your family's dead, your past is dead.

Dead things cannot affect the living.

So enjoy your moment of prehistoric bravado,

because after you leave here, it will be over.

Like everything else in your life.

Officer, return this man to cryostasis immediately.

Be well.

Be fucked.

- (Buzzer sounds) - (Computer) 'You are fined one...'

(Computer) 'Greetings, citizen. How are you on this glorious day?'

- (Lamb) I'll wait here. - Let's go.

- Oh, I don't know. - Look, I do know. Now turn that thing on.

- (Lamb) I hope you know what you're doing. - (Computer) 'Vector, 23 degrees.'

You're asking me to disobey a direct order. I'm to escort you to the cryoprison.

Look, you do what you gotta do. I know what I gotta do.

I gotta nail that maniac and put him on ice or that's where I'm gonna be.

- Enhance your calm, John Spartan. - Look, I've had it with enhancing my calm.

I'm gonna find that psycho Phoenix and enhance his calm.

And when I'm done, I'm gonna turn all my attention to that Froot Loop, Cocteau.

Now, you don't have to come with me. I can do this alone. OK?

Even if Simon Phoenix was programmed to escape,

extinguish life and steal contraband weapons,

why are you proceeding into the depths of wasteland?

The reason why your city-wide manhunt didn't work

was because Phoenix was in the one place that,

A, you can't monitor,

B, are afraid to go and, C, don't give a shit about.

I wanna go down there, I wanna find Phoenix and I wanna put him in a hurt locker.

So you wanna come with me or you wanna arrest me, huh?

OK. I'm with you.

Let's go blow this guy.

Away. Blow this guy away.

Whatever.

(Spartan groans)

She's got a way with words.

(Huxley groaning)

- (Spartan) What's wrong, Huxley? - It's not very clean.

A real garden spot.

Alright, which way, Garcia?

(Garcia) Over there.

(Spartan) Alright, guys, be ready for anything.

♪ My dog's better than your dog

♪ My dog's better than yours

♪ My dog's better cos he gets Ken-L Ration

- ♪ My dog's... ♪ - Hey.

I'm sorry, but when I'm nervous, I...

Sorry.

Over here.

(Garcia and Huxley groan)

What is that emanation?

Oh, yeah.

Oh, yeah.

Come on, guys.

(Speaking in Spanish)

No, hey, just relax. All I want is a burger and a beer, if you got one.

(Continues in Spanish)

How am I gonna pay?

- Huxley, it is better to give... - (Huxley) Ow!

(Vendor continues in Spanish)

Una cerveza, por favor.

Ah!

- You want a slug? - Ugh.

Gracias, señor. Buenos días, señor.

No, thank you.

I think I'm gonna be sick.

Oh, God.

- This is fantastic. You guys gotta try one. - Oh, my.

Just don't ask where the meat comes from.

Huxley, what's that supposed to mean?

Do you see any cows around here, Detective?

(Speaking in Spanish)

Rat?

This is a rat burger?

Not bad.

Matter of fact, it's the best burger I've had in years.

Gracias, señor.

Prego.

See you later.

(Crowd murmuring)

They don't seem very hostile, John Spartan.

No, they don't.

Now, that's a thing of beauty.

Huxley, do you know what this is?

A 1970 Oldsmobile 442.

With a 455-cubic-inch engine.

Radial tires and bucket seats.

- I'm impressed. - I studied.

So did I. Hand over the glow-rod.

Your friends, too. Come on, move.

Ow!

- (Man #1) Easy, pal. - (Man #2) Yeah.

(Huxley) Ow!

You got ball-balls, cop, coming down here after the show you put on.

We're looking for a Murder Death Killer.

Can you help or just bully us with your primitive weapons?

Well, maybe they're not so primitive.

So you think you're taking me in, huh?

Guess what. Not happening.

You tell Cocteau he can kiss my ass. Yeah, that's right.

You tell Cocteau it's gonna take an army of assholes to get rid of me

because I don't give a shit. I got nothing to lose.

I don't wanna rain on your parade, pal,

but I know who the hell you are, let alone wanna take you anywhere.

So stay here, be well and Cocteau's an asshole!

- Hey! - (Man #3) Hey, man.

(Man #4) Let's taken 'em and dump 'em up top.

They're only down here to spy on us.

Wait a minute.

You're the guy outside Taco Bell.

Yeah. What do you want?

I guess you weren't part of the Cocteau plan.

Greed, deception, abuse of power? That's no plan.

- That's why everybody's down here? - Got that right.

See, according to Cocteau's plan

I'm the enemy, because I like to think.

I like to read. I'm into freedom of speech and freedom of choice.

I'm the kind of guy who likes to sit in a greasy spoon and wonder,

"Gee, should I have the T-Bone steak

"or the jumbo rack of barbecued ribs with a side order of gravy fries?"

I want high cholesterol. I wanna eat bacon, and butter and buckets of cheese, OK?

I wanna smoke a Cuban cigar the size of Cincinnati in a non-smoking section.

I wanna run through the streets naked with green Jell-O all over my body,

reading "Playboy Magazine". Why?

Because I suddenly might feel the need to, OK, pal?

I've seen the future. You know what it is?

It's a 47-year-old virgin sitting around in his beige pajamas,

drinking a banana-broccoli shake, singing, "I'm an Oscar Meyer Wiener".

You live up top, you live Cocteau's way.

What he wants, when he wants, how he wants.

Your other choice: come down here.

Maybe starve to death.

Alright, then why don't you take charge and lead these people out of here?

I'm no leader.

I do what I have to do. Sometimes people come with me.

All I wanna do is bury Cocteau up to his neck in shit

and let him think happy-happy thoughts forever.

Then I got bad news.

I think he wants to kill you.

Alright, gentlemen, let's review.

The year is 2032.

That's 2-0-3-2. As in the 21st century.

And I'm sorry to say that the world has become a pussy-whipped

Brady Bunch version of itself run by a bunch of robed sissies.

All we have to do to run the whole thing

is to kill a man named Friendly, who put it all together.

Ah, but there's an extra added bonus.

We get to kill the man who put most of us behind the freezer.

You mean we get to kill John Spartan?

Exactly.

I want you to loot, pillage, plunder. I want you to steal.

I want you to do all the wonderful things that we used to do

- before all of this happened. - (Criminals laughing)

This world will be ours. Let's bring back the good old days!

- Are you with me? - (All) Yeah!

- Are you with me? Let's do it! - (All) Yeah!

Yeah!

It is a curious conclusion which you have deduced, John Spartan.

But I can find no fault in your logic.

Simon Phoenix is the perfect weapon

to send into the savage nether regions in which we stand.

I am impressed, John Spartan.

You mean they thawed this guy out just to kill me?

- I'm flattered. - Don't be flattered. Be frightened.

This guy's a certifiable nightmare.

- (Friendly) And that's why you're down here? - (Spartan) Yeah.

I must have done something right in a previous life.

Can't imagine what that could have been.

(Laughing)

Two for the price of one.

Let's take 'em, boys.

(Crowd shouting)

Stay down!

Friendly! Up on top!

I'll be goddamned. Like a New York cockroach.

(Phoenix shouts)

Fuck it.

I hate when things go wrong.

(Shouting in Spanish)

Phoenix!

There's an elevator shaft on top of this place.

Does that mean we're going up?

Momentito, señorita Huxley.

Come on.

How nice. They must have been expecting me.

(Crowd screaming)

OK. Now what?

Buckle up.

(Laughing)

(Huxley screaming)

(Huxley) There he is! He's in my car!

(Horn honking)

I'll be goddamned.

What is happening with the cops today?

Don't you know you're endangering the lives of civilians?

Shit.

- Auto-inflate. - (Computer) 'Auto-inflate.'

- (Laughs) - Damn.

Oh, that is just lovely.

Huxley, drive.

OK, OK, I've read all about this. Now, OK.

So, what do I do? I just... I just push this pedal?

Whoa! OK, OK. I got it, I got it.

- Punch it, Huxley! - Excuse me?

Push the pedal as hard as you can! Just catch up to him!

- Hold on. - Faster!

Faster!

Shit.

No free rides!

- Emergency, doors open. - (Computer) 'Doors opening.'

Say hello to my little friend.

(Grunting and shouting)

- Doors close. - (Computer) 'Malfunction.'

Computer, auto-drive.

(Computer) 'Auto-drive engaged.'

Gonna give you a haircut!

Remember those 40 bus passengers that you blew apart trying to catch me?

They were already dead.

Cold as Haagen-Dazs.

Man, I went to jail with a 36-year smile.

You're dead, Spartan.

Speak for yourself.

(Car horns blaring)

- Self-drive. - (Computer) 'Unable to execute.'

- Self-drive now. - (Computer) 'Malfunction.

'Unable to execute.'

Emergency.

Go left. Right.

(Computer) 'Self-drive engaged.'

Brake. Brake!

Brake now, you Mickey Mouse piece of shit!

John Spartan? John Spartan, are you in there?

- John Spartan! - (Spartan) Who do you think it is, Huxley?

Oh... oh. Here.

I thought your life force had been prematurely terminated.

Yeah, I thought I was history, too.

What the hell happened? All of a sudden, this car turned into a cannoli.

It's securefoam, and it saved your life.

Look at you, you're in shambles.

Don't worry, I can fix it later. All I need is a needle and thread.

I really didn't say that, did I?

Damn!

John Spartan!

You caveman, you're under arrest.

You are to be returned to the cryoprison immediately.

I heard all about that. We'll talk later, Chief.

Right now I need something, anything. A shotgun, a flare gun.

- Spartan. - What...

- Holy shit. - (Earle) Defensive red alert.

Stun batons on.

Relax.

Look at you. You get a bump on the noggin and think you're Pancho Villa?

- Who? - Never mind.

Time to take a stand, pal.

Well, good. And while you're doing it, loan me a gun. Loan me two guns.

You'd use these weapons of mass destruction

against men and women who uphold the law?

We use these weapons to shop for groceries, dick.

(Earle) Spartan, wait.

You can't leave.

You're under arrest. This very concept negates the possibility of your leaving.

Skip it, Chief.

Lieutenant Huxley.

Chief, you can take this job and you can shovel it.

"Take this job and shovel it."

Yeah?

Close enough.

No. No.

I hadn't counted on this, but I must say, you worked out beautifully.

People are terrified of you.

What's new? People have always been terrified of me.

Yes, but this time, they're really intimidated.

Now, I'll have carte blanche to create the perfect society.

My society.

San Angeles will be a beacon of order

with the purity of an ant colony.

And the beauty of a flawless pearl.

You can't take away people's right to be assholes.

Hmm?

That's who you remind me of, an evil Mr. Rogers.

Will you please kill him? He's pissing me off.

(All laughing)

Put another log on the fire!

I'm gonna love running this place.

Well, now, what shall I do with you, huh, Bobby?

I am an excellent associate, sir.

I would be delighted to continue my services during your administration.

- (Alarm beeping) - Huh, Danzig, maybe we'll use him.

(Bob) Excuse me, but the police are here.

(Shouting)

(Grunting and shouting)

Who in the hell do you think...?

I'm impressed.

Huxley!

That man has died by my hands.

It was either him or us, Huxley.

Yeah, there is that.

Anyway, where the hell did you learn to kick like that?

- Oh, um... Jackie Chan movies. - Ah.

Looks like the Cocteau plan just went up in smoke.

Rest in peace, Raymond Cocteau.

Oh, John Spartan, civilization as we know it will come to an end.

What will we do?

I don't know. But trust me, this is better for you.

- (Alarm beeping) - What's that?

Oh, this is bad.

This is very bad.

He's accessed the cryoprison and he's about to defrost the entire multi-lifer wing.

Most of them don't like you.

Most of these guys don't even like their own mothers.

They're bad boys, Huxley.

How many are there?

Eighty. All without rehab.

And they'll be reanimated within the hour.

Oh, we gotta stop this.

I'm not at all pleased about having caused the fatality of that deranged CryoCon.

But I now understand that under certain circumstances, violence is necessary.

Good.

Then I hope you understand this.

(Phoenix) Oh, I hope my butt didn't look like that.

OK, who do we have left that's good, huh?

Let's see.

Wilkes, Patrick.

Jeffrey Dahmer? I love that guy.

Look, we gotta get him. How long before the rest are done?

They're in the final stages of reanimation, sir.

(Phoenix) Great. Absolutely great.

Gentlemen.

Thank you very much, but your services will no longer be required.

Send a maniac to catch a maniac.

(Computer) 'Attention. Attention.

'Cryoprisoner defrosting reanimation sequence now entering final stage.

'Countdown to reanimation of prisoner batches 290,

'310, 480 and 570: ten minutes.'

- (Bob) That's it. The very last one. - (Phoenix) Excellent.

(Computer) 'Accessed.'

What the hell is that?

Phoenix!

(Spartan shouts and Phoenix laughs)

Didn't expect that one, did you?

Where are you going?

I wish you the best of luck, sir.

Stupid.

Spartan, how's it hanging, huh?

I'm sure you're familiar with the long arm of the law, aren't you?

Come on, Spartan, why don't you struggle a little bit?

Make me work for it, huh? What do you say?

How about a little target practice? What do you say?

Didn't hurt your head, did you?

(Phoenix humming)

Shit. Piece-of-shit gun. Damn.

Fuck.

That's it, Spartan.

You're not getting out of this one.

I could drop you in that vat of defrost over there

and fry your ass like a chicken.

Or with my little pinky, drop your monkey ass down...

I'll be goddamned.

(Shouts and grunts)

Shit! Goddamn! What am I doing wrong?

(Computer) 'Cryoprisoner reanimation sequence now entering final stage.'

Is it cold in here, or is it just me?

Good memory.

Come here. Come here.

Piece of shit!

I hate cops!

Look in my eyes, John. I'll see you in hell.

Not.

This is the best day of my life.

(Shouting)

(Spartan) Heads up!

(Shouting)

(Earle) You have apprehended the villain

responsible for the murder of our beloved Dr. Raymond Cocteau?

Well, I wouldn't exactly say apprehended. Let's just say he's history.

And the cryoprison, that's history too.

What will we do? How will we live?

(Friendly) I'll tell you what we're gonna do.

We're gonna go out drinking, all of us get shit-faced and paint the town, literally.

Put up graffiti, slogans. It'll be a blast.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm gonna tell you what you're gonna do.

Why don't you get a little dirty?

You, a lot clean.

And somewhere in the middle...

I don't know. You'll figure it out.

Fucking A.

(People cheering)

Well put.

Mr. Friendly? Greetings and salutations, Edgar Friendly.

I'm Associate Bob.

And may I say it would be a great pleasure to assist you in creating a more humane...

- Bob. Bob. Let's talk about the hair, OK? - Hair?

Pick a color, alright? And lose the kimono.

- You look like a couch. - (Bob) A couch?

(Friendly) What, are you a surgeon with these gloves?

Thank you for rendering me unconscious.

Huxley, I did it for your own good.

- We're supposed to be a team. - We are.

Oh, my.

Are all fluid-transfer activities like this?

- Better. - Better?

Oh, my.

I think I'm gonna like the future.

Now that you've demolished everything.

But there's just one thing I wanna know:

how's that damn three-seashell thing work?