Original subtitles

In memory of my grandmother, Juliette,

Downloaded from YTS.BZ

who, even when faced with my worst mistakes, laughed.

Official YIFY movies site: YTS.BZ

LOCATED IN THE NEW WORLD,

THIS REGION OF THE OLD CONTINENT FOLLOWS ITS OWN RULES.

When I was little, listening to a bedtime story,

there was always that moment when the big, bad monster showed its face,

and I'd imagine the scariest creature I could think of.

But in a world where everyone's a monster,

who's the real monster?

Yo, yo, yo! It's 8 a.m., and you're tuned in to Sun FM, the best--

Are you ready, Wilson? Our guests will be arriving any minute.

Yes, ma'am.

Don't forget, you shouldn't use the detector on anyone

until after you've gotten their permission.

Got it.

You reviewed your notes, didn't you?

- Yes. - Good, so tell me,

who is about to arrive?

Walter.

That's right.

Walter will be the first to arrive, as always.

Don't underestimate him because of his age.

He's something of a prodigy.

He's only a few years older than you,

but I'd say he's probably the most dangerous of the lot.

He'll try to throw you off a little.

Try to be respectful, but do not give in.

Who the fuck is this dude?

Nice to meet you.

My name's Wilson. I'm from the mainland, and I'm working here

at the National Space Station as an intern,

and Madame Santos has kindly offered to host me.

So I'll be staying here all year.

Who the fuck is this dude?

I'm almost 70 years old, Walter.

If you think I can keep this up much longer,

acting as babysitter for all of you, you are wrong.

Who the fuck is this dude?

He's the grand-nephew of a friend of Alain's.

And any friend of my late husband is a friend of mine.

That's how it is.

It's all settled.

Okay.

You know what you're getting into, bro?

- Yes, Madame Santos explained it. - And you know the risks?

Don't touch any of the weapons. I'll be the one handling those.

It's best to pretend they're not here at all.

- Hello, Juliette. - Nice to meet you, my name's Wilson.

I'm from the mainland, and I'm gonna be working here

- at the National Space Station... - Juliette?

- ...as an intern. - Who's this guy?

Mickaël with a K, and an umlaut on the E.

I assume she's explained to you that nine very dangerous people

are coming here to have an important discussion.

Ariane will probably ask you a few questions about your internship.

So, what are you doing at the Space Station?

Aeronautics? Or IT?

You know it's gonna be the nine top gangsters in the region.

But when it comes to Howard,

if he asks you anything, avoid answering. It's just better that way.

Do you live in the capital?

Where, exactly? Which neighborhood? What's your last name?

So anything you overhear, you forget right away, you understand?

And even if Éric doesn't ask you any questions,

introduce yourself anyway.

Madame Santos has kindly offered to host me during my time here.

Parker is very friendly, but he likes to keep his distance.

That sounds great.

I have a son. I'd like him to do that kind of thing. It's a good career.

It'll be a room full of not-so-nice people

who wouldn't hesitate to shove their guns down your throat

if they get the slightest impression that you can't keep your mouth shut.

You hear me?

Yeah. Yeah, I hear you.

Hm.

That's just my sex appeal.

Ah...

And when it comes to Jahnaël, don't accept anything from him.

Why not?

You don't wanna be indebted to him.

If he ever offers you any kind of help, mm-mm. Refuse it.

Politely.

Hm.

Hm.

Student internship?

If you're living here in this depressing mansion,

I'd imagine it's because you're a little low on funding.

Here. I've got some cash on me, if you need.

You know, if it helps.

No.

Um...

No, but thanks. That's kind, but I'm all right.

You sure?

Think carefully.

I'm sure. Thank you.

That's fine.

Oh...

Take this.

No, really, I'm good on money right now. I'm fine.

Look at the coin.

I don't even know that currency. It's worthless.

- No, it's-- No, please, sir, I-- - Jahnaël.

Jahnaël.

- I don't want your-- - You won't owe me anything, I promise.

I won't ask anything of you. You have my word.

Use it as a good luck charm, Wilson.

Please let me know if you need anything, Juliette.

Oh, that's very kind of you, Jahnaël. Thanks.

Madame Santos's late husband was a legendary gangster.

They say he controlled the entire drug trade in the region

up until his death.

He was a local legend in a way.

The OG.

I wonder what he did to earn the kind of respect

where, years after his death, his wife was still treated like royalty.

As the only European territory in this part of the New World,

this region had inevitably become one of the largest drug hubs on the globe.

All of the participants in this criminal summit, so to speak,

made their living on drug trafficking in one way or another.

But each of them had his or her own specialty.

Take Parker, for example.

He was a high-ranking legionnaire in the Third Foreign Infantry Regiment.

A soldier never takes off his dog tags. Never.

This regiment was based in the northern sector,

and its mission was to protect the territory from a potential attack,

but also to dismantle clandestine networks of gold looters.

Having some fun here?

Officially, he scoured the forest

and destroyed illegal gold miners' equipment.

But obviously, he didn't really destroy it.

Soldier, you're telling me

you couldn't neutralize him without opening fire?

Instead, the legionnaire took the equipment

and resold it at the border.

Quite the virtuous cycle,

selling to looters the very gear he'd confiscated from them the day before.

- You made sure nothing's missing? - Everything's here, chief.

Davies! Get your ass over here!

Yes, chief.

Right away, chief.

This guy's specialty was large-scale theft.

He started with carjacking,

- bank and jeweler robberies. - Out of the car!

Then moved onto intercepting space equipment,

cargo shipments, and even military weapons.

On the ground!

- Move, let's go! - Come on, let's get out of here.

Even though they were all there, unarmed,

ready to talk and collaborate with one another,

ultimately they were still competitors. Or should I say, adversaries.

Mikey, when are you gonna come play?

- Never again. - I have some contacts...

They were all striving to live up to their reputations.

They had to command the others' respect.

Or better yet, their fear.

We're missing one.

You told me nine people.

Right now we have eight.

We're down one.

Moïse.

There's no need for you to be there to welcome him.

He's always the last one.

I can greet him alone. I'll explain who you are.

In any case, he never carries a firearm.

If I don't tell him about you before he sees you...

I hate to think what he'd do to you.

Moïse, the legend.

It took many years of living in this region

to truly understand the breadth of this man's influence.

From what I understand,

Moïse was a kind of spiritual leader of a complex religion.

Basically, he was a sorcerer.

Drug trafficking in this region is inherently linked to belief in magic.

Very few drug mules attempt to carry drugs across the border

without first taking what they call a bath.

They bathe in water infused with specific plants

while listening to incantations

that supposedly render them invisible to the customs officers.

According to these beliefs,

skilled sorcerers can make firearms indestructible,

render human skin bulletproof through scarification,

and other things I still don't completely understand.

Moïse was said to be the most powerful sorcerer

- of this kind in the region. - How's it going, Harry Potter?

- Going well. - Okay.

I foresee a beautiful day ahead of me. How about you?

- Me too. - You think?

Even people who don't believe in that sorcery stuff

can't ignore the impact he has on others.

Tomorrow, you'll be flying to the capital for me.

You'll be carrying much more than last time.

Do you know where to hide the pellets?

Yes, Moïse.

There'll be a lot.

- They'll all fit? - Yes, Moïse.

Let me make sure.

Sorry to disturb you, sir.

A woman's insisting on a consultation. She just needs a second.

I'm busy right now, Rémy.

I think she's loaded. She's the niece of Deputy Thomas.

It'll be okay.

My baby!

My baby's not breathing anymore.

Help him, please.

- When did he stop breathing? - Last night.

Last night.

They told me he's dead, but he's my baby.

I know... I know he's not really dead.

My love, everything's okay.

Mommy's here.

Open him up, empty him, and fill him up. Change of plans, sweetie.

Turns out you'll be carrying much more than expected.

MEETINGS TAKE PLACE EVERY QUARTER, AT THE MANOR, AT 10 AM.

NEVER TWICE IN THE SAME ROOM.

THAT MRS. SANTOS CAN SUMMON THEM IN CASE OF EXTREME EMERGENCY.

What, the mayor can only go out after dark?

He's usually one of the first to arrive.

At the time, I thought that Éric had nicknamed someone "the mayor,"

some kind of inside joke you couldn't understand without context.

- Thank you. - But obviously I was wrong.

The ninth gangster we were waiting on was none other than the mayor himself.

François Guérin.

Anyone would have described him as an excellent mayor.

He loved his city deeply,

but, powerless in the face of rising inequality

and the uncontrollable violence it led to,

he had no choice but to try and work with these criminals,

to see them as powerful business leaders with whom he had to coexist.

He came up with the idea of organizing a meeting once every quarter,

a secret gathering

of the most powerful criminal tycoons in the region.

And during this meeting, I swear to turn a blind eye to what I witness,

and to facilitate certain things.

In return, I will obviously need your full cooperation.

I want you to help ensure the stability of the city,

the safety of our citizens,

and your continued financial support of the region's development.

Gentlemen, with my help, you'll find you'll be much more efficient.

And thanks to your good faith,

my citizens will be able to live in safety.

- It was still bribery. -

Corruption softened with good intentions, true, but corruption, nonetheless.

He'll be here.

It was much more than a collaboration. It was a pact.

Failing to attend the meeting was like breaking the pact.

It meant becoming an enemy.

An enemy to be eliminated.

Oh, wow.

You're milking the suspense now.

One of my guys just told me the mayor got arrested.

- If this is a joke, it's not very funny. - Am I laughing?

Who would arrest him? We control everyone.

A new guy who just started. I don't know him yet.

- Is your source reliable? - He says he was arrested last night.

The news is gonna break soon.

- Holy shit. - We've been extremely careful.

How is this even possible?

And then, all of a sudden, it hit us.

Like the crow of the rooster jerking you awake,

shouting that the sun is up.

The thought flashed through all our minds at the same time.

Do you confirm?

It was impossible for one of them to get arrested.

The only people who had the information needed to bring down

one of the nine most influential gangsters in the region...

Well, well. There's a rat in the house.

...were the eight others.

Thank God they're not armed.

Not one of the people at this table has a weapon.

I used the detector on all of them. No one here is armed.

And if they were, they would've killed each other already.

A snitch hidden within the group,

ready to defend their status, their empire,

which surely took years to establish.

They'd made huge sacrifices to reach this level of power,

and they'd give anything to protect what they'd built.

No, they wouldn't hesitate

before pulling out their weapons and shooting everyone, myself included.

If they had weapons.

Oh, shit, I gotta get out of here.

But if I move, they'll-- No, calm down.

They're unarmed. They don't have guns. I used the detector.

I used the metal detector on all of them.

Didn't I use the detector?

But... they all set it off, and then came up with some excuse.

And I didn't dare insist on checking. They could've been hiding a weapon.

If I were them, I'd probably know how to hide a gun

from someone as inexperienced as me.

Maybe not all of them, but what's the chance

at least one of them has a gun on them?

Fifty percent? Sixty?

And it would only take one weapon on one of them for everyone to be killed.

What the hell am I doing here? What am I doing here?

I'm definitely about to get shot.

Someone's gonna pull out a weapon. Maybe they all have one.

God, I wish I had one too.

Okay, these guys need to talk.

They need to resolve this through dialogue.

They need to talk. Talk, for God's sake, talk.

Please, please, please don't pull out a gun. Please don't pull out a gun.

What am I doing here? Maybe I should say something?

I could encourage them to talk it out, to reach an agreement.

I'm not a dangerous person, and they can see that.

Maybe they'll listen to me. Okay. Come on, I have to say something.

Speak, Wilson, speak. Wilson, say something.

Oh, no, no, no. I can't!

You have to say something, or you're gonna die in this room.

Speak, Wilson, speak!

Fucking do it. Breathe, then speak!

Mickaël. You were saying earlier how you wanted to quit.

Is that right?

Yeah. I was gonna tell you all this will be one of my last.

One or two more deals, then I'm heading off with my girl.

It's time for me to start a family, put this life behind me.

- Amen. - Congratulations.

- What a guy. - Your timing's good.

- What are you saying, soldier? - I think I'm being pretty clear.

We're listening.

The mayor falls at the moment you're gonna retire.

- That's strange. - Spit it out. Spit it out, man.

I have nothing against you, but if I were a cop,

you'd be exactly who I'd try to milk for info,

in exchange for the independence that you seem to crave.

- Why don't you try speaking English? - Just tell us what you think.

What I think? I think there's a very good chance...

that you're the snitch.

Hm.

Got it.

In the first minute, you dropped a bombshell

that we would've found out eventually.

It's just that you were the first to hear it.

- Now, that's-- - The behavior of a blabbermouth.

- There. - Honestly, Mickaël.

I know more than anyone that out of all the people at this table,

you're the most likely to be targeted by one of my colleagues.

You wanna retire, you have a girlfriend, you have plans.

That's right. Thank you, Officer Howard. Thanks for reminding us you're a pig.

- Yeah, so? - So you're the last person at this table

I would ever trust.

Use your head, my guy. I'm a cop, huh? Think it over, Walter.

Stop trying to fuck with me, dude. We all know the game you're playing.

Just because you get intel before everyone else does,

you think we're gonna do whatever you tell us.

- That's exactly how a snitch would act. - Now I'm a snitch?

You seem at least as guilty as anyone else at this table.

But you...

- Legionnaire Parker, you're blabbering. - What are you talking about?

You were the first to open your mouth and you're rambling.

Tell me, what are you afraid of?

I think everyone needs to just calm down.

He just pointed out a fact, a valid argument.

And logically, Mickaël, given the limited info we have,

you're definitely a suspect.

Hey. I didn't hear you. What's your response?

What are you afraid of?

Well, I have a wife and kids, and you don't know what's that like.

And there's no way I will let a rat destroy

what I have worked so hard to build for them.

We all have a lot to lose. You talk about family,

but you were the first to point a finger at someone who's trying to start his own.

I didn't point a finger at anyone. I just started a discussion.

- Bro, you sound like you're on edge. - Are you accusing him or not?

You getting nervous again, buddy?

You freaking out?

Remember that I'm a lieutenant colonel, and our words matter to us.

- It's about honor. - What do you think, Jah?

Do you mind not tapping on the table, Walter?

I'm sure you're stressed, but it's irritating.

- I'm stressed? - Yeah, you're anxious.

This was clearly their way of deliberating,

of reaching an agreement.

You're acting like you're hiding something, Parker.

Each took turns leveling accusations against one another.

So, by this logic, whoever had the most accusations

had the highest probability of being the traitor.

Moïse.

I'm no longer Harry Potter?

Whoever it was,

the traitor needed to be permanently expelled from the group.

He needed to be cut off from any information

that could be used against them.

I have a wife and kids, man.

Maybe they'd be forced to leave the country,

and be forbidden from ever returning,

leaving behind their reputation, forever ruined.

They'd lose everything they cherished, everything they spent years building.

I have a wife.

I have children.

At least, that was my assumption.

That was the first time I'd ever seen a man's head exploded by a bullet.

But that wasn't the only reason I was about to pass out.

I'd also just realized that I was in the presence of people

far more dangerous than I could've imagined.

And it took me so long to realize that because I simply wasn't as smart as them.

At that moment, they had far too little information

to figure out who the traitor was.

They did realize, however,

that they had no choice but to eliminate someone right away.

Best case scenario, they'd get lucky and kill the traitor.

Worst case, they'd show the snitch what was in store for him,

hoping that fear would cause him to slip up.

So they killed the one who seemed the most scared,

because, logically, the traitor was the most anxious person at the table,

even if only by a slight margin.

They eliminated the first person who spoke,

the one who seemed to have the hardest time

withstanding the tension in the room,

the one who was the first to break the silence by giving his opinion.

You were saying earlier how you wanted to quit.

From the moment he first spoke, it was already decided.

And if I'd spoken when I'd wanted to, that person would've been me.

Come on, Wilson, speak! I, not Parker, would be on the floor,

bleeding out onto the carpet.

That man is the reason I didn't speak.

He dissuaded me with a single glance.

Jahnaël knew right away, and he saved my life.

FRANÇOIS GUÉRIN, THE CITY'S FIRST MAYOR, IN POWER FOR 23 YEARS.

I KNEW NOTHING ABOUT WHAT WAS HERE BEFORE.

The boy's parents barely had time to get out of bed

when the guy opened fire.

He completely emptied his magazine. He fired at everything in the room.

He murdered the boy's entire family.

He left the house, whistling to himself, thinking he'd done a thorough job.

But he hadn't gotten the kid.

Not one single bullet hit him.

Yeah, but we're talking about at least 60 bullets here.

There's no other explanation? Just pure luck?

There's a car waiting outside.

It'll take you somewhere safe.

Would you like more milk?

I should warn you, there's a big crowd of people out there.

Not just journalists.

I hope you realize...

...your story is incredible, Jahnaël.

You're the luckiest kid in the world.

They've already picked out a nickname for you.

"Jah." Do you know what that means?

The word comes from the Hebrew Bible, the scriptures,

and it's widely used in Rastafarian culture.

"Jah" means "God."

Jahnaël, the son of the god of luck.

Jahnaël, how's it going?

Gambling. It's an integral part of the culture here.

Everything's an excuse to gamble. Cards, dice, coins, chips. Doesn't matter.

Jahnaël built his entire business on these bets,

an underground casino packed with people hoping to win big.

Hola, Gérard. Como estas?

Oh, Jahnaël. How you doing, man?

- You have something for me? - Yeah.

I'm racking up some winnings here, to pay you back.

You've kept me waiting a long time, Gérard,

and it looks like you're betting with borrowed money.

Yeah, but don't worry, it's for--

I'm doubling the interest for you, buddy. Just for you, it's doubled.

Okay.

Not a problem. I'll pay you back what I owe,

plus interest, in the next few days. You can count on it.

Not a problem, like you said.

Not a problem.

No problem at all, Gérard.

I think we've got a problem, Gérard.

Jahnaël!

I was gonna pay you back, I swear!

I just--

I can get your money. I promise I can. Jahnaël, please!

I believe that the blessings life bestows upon us

depend on a kind of equilibrium.

You should never harm someone who owes you nothing

because everything comes back to you, a bit like karma.

I hope that what you're about to give me today, Gérard,

will be enough to restore that equilibrium.

Jahnaël, I swear there's nothing valuable here.

Don't be rude to your wife, Gérard.

What could be more valuable than someone who loves you?

No!

Oh. I guess he doesn't feel the same way.

Just give me one more week. One week!

Well, well, well, what do we have here?

That ring is worthless, I swear!

I think that could tide me over for a day or two.

I beg you, Jahnaël. It was a gift.

The ring's not what I want.

Everyone who went to Jahnaël's casino

thought they could beat him at his own game,

get even luckier than the son of the god of luck.

I don't think they could've predicted what it would cost them.

Hm.

What the fuck? Goddamn it, I'm fucking cov--

- Ma'am, you could've warned us. - You really expected a warning?

I've got pieces of that fucking soldier's brain on my shirt.

I thought you'd made your decision.

"Excuse me, soldier,

would you mind moving a little to the left so we can shoot you?"

Ha-ha-ha. You're hilarious. You realize how much this thing cost?

You're praying for that snitch, Mickaël?

- And for his family. - Amen.

Why do you guys think he only snitched on the mayor?

Why wouldn't he turn all of us in to the police?

Ariane, we know you got a college degree or whatever.

Just chill out, we got this covered.

If he'd ratted all of us out, we'd be in police custody already,

everyone but him.

And besides, the whole world would know he was in bed with the pigs.

Nobody here would become an informant voluntarily,

not even for the money, it wouldn't make sense.

It's extremely risky, and we have everything we want.

This new cop must have something he can use against us, something huge,

and he's blackmailing someone into selling us out.

So the snitch is buying himself some time by slowly ratting us out,

one by one, until we're all gone.

I just wanna make sure you all realize that.

Obviously.

All this will be irrelevant if Parker was actually the rat.

- Well, let's go find out. - Where are you going?

Well, it just so happens I know some guys

who can recover any deleted data from any phone.

Right, so we're just gonna let you take the guy's phone

and blindly trust you with the information you find on it,

Mr. Police Officer Howard.

Is that sweat, Michelangelo? Are you hot?

No one's touching his phone.

Okay. Wow.

It's great to know you guys really trust me.

Some of the computers at the Space Station are used for military intel.

They can retrieve data from any cellphone, even if it's deleted.

- It'll take no time at all. - No way. The same thing goes for you.

You're not touching that phone because we don't know you're not the snitch.

Nice try, though, Ariane.

That's fair.

But why arrest the mayor?

Getting Mayor Guérin arrested the day before our meeting

was suicidal for the poor snitch. The mayor was probably

the most level-headed person in this group, no offense.

Eliminating him at that time

would incur an enormous risk for all of us here.

There could've been a shootout.

Everyone could've been killed, including the rat.

It's a miracle that such a thing didn't occur.

It was a very poorly-planned move on his part,

and it goes without saying,

you're all very savvy and strategic individuals.

- So... - So the traitor didn't have a choice.

The mayor must've figured something out.

And the traitor must've known.

I was wondering...

did Mr. Guérin try to contact any of you?

Do you recall?

Last night, perhaps?

In the hours before his arrest?

That little shit.

It would've been to warn you of the existence of a traitor.

No.

- No. - Or even, dare I say,

to reveal the traitor's identity to one of you?

No.

Or even to negotiate with the traitor himself?

Pick up, asshole. Pick up the phone!

Answer the fucking phone, you piece of shit!

No.

Okay, then let's just hope we didn't shoot the wrong person.

Ariane, you had said that, at the National Space Station,

there are devices that allow you to reveal all the secrets

- in Parker's phone, is that accurate? - Yes, madame.

Fate sure does work in mysterious ways.

Wilson, do you think you can handle that?

You're referring to the computer lab at the Space Station?

Do you have access?

Yeah, in theory, but I'm only an intern, I don't--

Wilson is completely neutral.

Does anyone here have any objections

if he looks through Parker's phone

to find out whether he was the traitor or not,

and then shares his findings with the group?

Perfect.

All right then, I propose that we conclude this little meeting.

I think it would be wise to wait for Wilson's verdict

and see how things unfold from there.

Before we take any further actions

that we can't take back.

Come see me one by one to collect your belongings, hm.

Cool.

What are you doing?

Do any of you wanna pay for this jacket?

No one?

Then I'm gonna help myself to some of this.

He always liked to keep a little cash on him,

and don't think he'll be needing it now.

I'm out of here.

His fingers are that valuable?

No, but he has less than a day left until they can't be reattached anymore.

I just remembered I wanted to stop by another guy's place,

- not too far from here. - Oh, hell yeah, guys, I'm all in.

Let me do the chopping this time. Come on, Jah.

No, we're not chopping anything, Judy.

He doesn't owe that much. I just want to apply a little pressure.

Okay, I get it.

But I'm not sure, I have to get up early tomorrow morning.

Don't worry about it, bro. It's cool.

We'll go and just do a quick in-and-out.

Let's do it.

Hm.

Tails, you win, and we go now.

Heads, I win, and we go later.

Okay.

- Bruh. - Heads.

You know how it works. This guy always wins.

Give me back my phone! Give it back!

- Shut the fuck up, dude! - Shit!

- Okay, let's go real quick. - Yes!

- Let's go. - Fydo, can you go put this in the fridge?

- This is gonna be sick. - We'll talk tomorrow.

- Yes. - It'll work out.

Okay, let's go.

You know, Jahnaël, I wanted to thank you for putting me in the crew.

And letting me tag along tonight.

It's truly an honor for me.

- "An honor." You don't say. - Yeah.

You're gonna be number one in the game, I'm sure of it.

A lot of people underestimate you.

But don't worry about them.

It'll take some time before they get it, but they will.

What?

- We're just applying pressure. - Right.

What?

Daniel, don't make me break down your door.

This fucking guy won't leave me alone.

We need to talk about the money you owe me.

Daniel, I'm just trying to establish a dialogue.

I find that actions tend to be less enjoyable than talking things out.

So take your pick.

Jahnaël, I'm sorry, man, I don't have your money yet,

but I promise you, I'll have it real soon.

Like a week. I swear, man. Jah.

Get the fuck out of my house, you assholes!

I don't have it, Jah.

Get out!

You took my money and spent it on this shit?

- It's not what you think. - Stop it.

- You pieces of shit. - Hey, shut up, over there.

Hey.

Just give me a week.

Please, man, I'm begging here, just one week.

One week. Seven days.

One hundred sixty-eight hours.

Ten thousand and eighty minutes.

You want me to wait 10,080 minutes to get my money, Daniel?

- Yeah. - Jah.

What are you doing? Stop messing around, you fucking junkie.

What are you doing? You sure about this?

Come on,

you look like that cat lady from The Simpsons, you know that?

What are you doing?

Idiot.

You can't even aim, you're too high.

One week, no more than that, I swear.

- I promise. - Stop it!

You nasty fucking junkie.

Go on, keep it up.

- Do that again, I dare you. - Don't make me come back here, Daniel.

Yeah, don't worry, man.

Ah! You fucking bitch!

No! No!

Sophie, no!

No! No!

Sophie!

- Judy, what the fuck? - Sophie, no.

No. Sophie!

Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Easy, easy.

Calm down, Daniel. Calm down.

Hey, what the fuck?

Fuck, dude!

That bitch really got me, Jah.

Goddamn it!

Fuck.

No!

My money!

I'm sorry, boss. But he wasn't cooperating.

We're not pussies, for fuck's sake.

What did you say? Are you calling me a pussy?

I never said that, Jah.

Did someone tell you you could fire that gun?

Are you the one in charge now?

- No, I-- - Do you understand why I let you join us?

You're only here to pay off your debt to me.

Yeah, boss, I remember.

- I was just thinking that-- - Who the fuck asked you to think?

You're an absolutely nobody, you're nothing at all.

You're here to do what I tell you.

Did I tell you to kill anyone?

No. And you never have.

That might be the reason why people aren't more afraid of you.

How is a customer gonna be able to pay me

if they're dead, you fucking dumbass?

You're gonna add his debt to yours.

And get out of here.

He tried to kill you, didn't he?

And you think he could have succeeded?

Do you have any idea who I am?

Yes, Jah.

Jah!

You better get your grandma out of the house...

because when we meet again, you better have my money.

You can stay here tonight.

And tomorrow, I'll take you where I went when I lost my parents.

What's your name?

What's your name?

What's your name?

What's your name?

What's your name?

Hm...

You don't seem very scared.

So why won't you speak to me?

Hey, kid, I need you to talk now.

Did you hear this phone ring last night?

It rang for a while.

Do you remember if I answered?

Someone answered my phone for 21 seconds at 4:23.

It wasn't you, was it?

If you did, I'm gonna need you to tell me, princess.

What did the person on the phone say?

It's a matter of life or death, so you have to talk to me. It's important.

Hey.

Hey!

Sorry. You're mute, is that it?

You must be hungry, you want some breakfast?

We can talk later.

Yeah, it's imperative that we meet tonight.

Yep, same place.

Good?

You know you don't have to stay, son.

Hey, babe.

♪ Who's afraid of the big bad wolf ♪

♪ Big bad wolf, big bad wolf ♪

♪ Who's afraid of the big bad wolf ♪

I'm tense.

- Rémy? - Yes, Moïse.

I'm feeling tense, Rémy.

- Will you offer me your pain? - With pleasure.

♪ Who's afraid of the big bad wolf ♪

♪ Big bad wolf, big bad wolf ♪

♪ Who's afraid of the big bad wolf ♪

I guess you're not so mute after all, huh?

I think we have things to talk about, don't we?

Here's how you're going to sort

through the information you find on Parker's phone.

I've listed exactly what you need to look for.

And how to tell if he's the snitch or not.

How are you all so sure that he used this specific phone

in his correspondence with the police inspector?

You have no way of knowing for sure.

You noticed that they all have the same type of phone, right?

Yes, but--

It's not a problem that you're intelligent,

but it'll become a problem if you forget to hide it.

But you might kill another person

if I don't find anything suspicious on this damn phone,

even though that wouldn't prove Parker wasn't the traitor.

Since he could've used another means of communication.

They could have been in contact by letter,

- you're saying? - Yes.

No. That's impossible.

Um, what if he was using someone else's phone?

These are the only untraceable cell phones available in this entire region.

Searching his phone is the only real way to unmask the snitch.

But how can you be so certain?

Wilson, there are at least 10 reasons for that,

but you certainly don't need to know what they are

to follow the thread of the story. Hm?

I have children.

Hi, Mom, how are you?

- What's wrong, Wilson? - What? Nothing, Mom, I'm fine.

I'm fine. Um...

So is everything good over there?

Stop it, Wilson, I can tell from your voice that something's wrong.

- Wilson. - Where are you?

Are you in outer space? My big brother's a spationaut.

He's working at a space center, sweetie. And we say "astronaut."

- But yeah, "spationaut" works too, right? - Really?

- Yeah, it's a word. - How would your brother know that?

Mom.

I... I don't... I don't know if I should stay here.

I think maybe I should come back.

Your little brothers talk about you constantly, Wilson.

They're so, so proud of you.

You're their idol. We are all incredibly proud.

I know it must be hard being so far away from home.

Being in a completely new environment is always stressful.

But you are my son.

You are brave.

You can handle anything they throw at you.

I know you'll succeed.

I'm sure of it.

My son will not give up.

Mom, come look at this.

Can I call you tomorrow, sweetie?

Yes, okay, we'll talk tomorrow.

We'll talk tomorrow.

- Wilson, everything all right? - Yep.

- Let me know if you have any questions. - Of course.

Also, your badge, it gives you access to everywhere in the building.

So if you feel like trying out any software

or studying after your shift's over, go for it.

I should say, you might not have much company though.

Oh, good timing, I'd like to introduce you to a very impressive colleague.

Julie Fournier, she's an example of the places you can go in this career.

Julie, I'd like to introduce Wil, he's our brand new intern.

He just arrived.

Hello, Wil. Welcome to the Space Station.

Wil. What's that short for?

Wilson, actually.

Oh, Wilson. I'd assumed it was for William or Wilhelm, but, uh...

It's a pleasure, Wilson.

Julie is what you'd call a prodigy.

She earned all her degrees two or three years ahead of schedule,

and then she advanced here at an astonishing speed.

And now she oversees an entire department in this building.

Oh, you always exaggerate.

She's just being modest, but seriously,

she's the one managing all the shipments of rocket components

between this region and the rest of the world.

She's the real boss.

So if you ever wanna send a package for free--

A package, or a few hundred pounds of cocaine.

She could've overseen any of the departments here.

But she chose the one that enabled her to move massive shipments

in and out of the country.

Had she been planning this since college,

or did she seize the opportunity once she got here?

Whatever the case was, it was genius.

Okay guys, I'll leave you to it.

Are you going up, Wilson?

There's a one-in-eight chance that the legionnaire was actually the snitch.

If not, he's still among us.

Which means someone will die at our next meeting.

I can't do anything to prevent that.

Apart from doing as Madame Santos asked and checking Parker's phone,

and reporting back my findings tomorrow morning, like she instructed.

There's nothing else I can do.

I won't do anything else.

It's not my business, after all.

You need to relax, Wilson, you're acting like you're threatened.

I'm not gonna hurt you.

If you're not at the manor next time we meet,

they'll assume I made you disappear, and then I'll be the prime suspect.

- My hands are tied. - Then what is it you want?

You seem like an intelligent young man.

I think you grasp the subtleties of the situation we're in,

the voting process, Madame Santos as the arbiter, am I wrong?

If we have to vote again and there's a tie,

meaning the same number of accusations against two people...

how would you suggest that we break it?

And why would I suggest anything?

Because no one would accept a suggestion from any of the members around the table.

It would have to come from someone impartial.

So either Madame Santos or you.

If the data from the phone proves the man that you killed is innocent,

do you really plan on going to the meeting?

When there's a high chance of dying there?

Why don't you just hop on a plane right now?

It's certainly risky, but much less so than going to that meeting.

It's an enormous--

Wilson, there's something you need to understand.

This isn't a business that you can just leave.

We control the airport.

Every single person on staff there answers to one of us,

the same way I control my entire department.

- Are you two listening? - No, madame.

The second I set foot in the airport, the others will know,

and I'll be eliminated on the spot.

This is my floor.

Wilson, in case of a tie, we need to revote.

Suggest that, Wilson.

And there I was.

Night had finally fallen on my little world.

I was coming to the realization that these criminals

had spent much of their lives with the Sword of Damocles

dangling over their heads.

And they'd long since accepted it. It had always been part of the job.

So whatever Parker's phone records might reveal,

these gangsters were going to keep doing what they'd always excelled at...

surviving.

Yo, yo, yo. You're tuned in to Sun FM,

the dopest radio station in French Guiana.

I hope you're all having a fantastic day. We've got some beautiful weather.

Okay, guys, we're jumping straight into our live classifieds.

- Who's on the line? - Hello, Charles.

Hey, man, we're listening.

My name is Wils-- I mean, my name is John.

- Cool, let's hear your ad. - I'm selling a phone.

- It's a phone I just found. - You "found" a phone?

Okay, John, I'll take your word for it. Tell us about this phone.

It's a pretty good brand, but the problem is,

the phone's actually dead.

Okay, so you're selling a broken phone? Nice.

I mean, I've checked it out, and the phone looks good.

Aside from being broken. And it's legit, it's not a knock-off.

It's a reliable phone.

It shouldn't have gotten broken.

Got it, thanks, John.

Sorry, man, but if this phone's broken,

I don't think our listeners are interested.

We're gonna take the next call.

- Let's go. - Cool.

All right, let's do this.

...from the south, temperatures are rising.

JONATHAN PARKER. NORTHERN SECTOR.

LIEUTENANT-COLONEL. 3RD FOREIGN INFANTRY REGIMENT.

ONE WIFE, TWO CHILDREN

Gérard got the money together.

- He wants to make the exchange. - When?

Right now.

Jahnaël, did you know this guy was running for mayor in the next election?

Yeah.

And yet you still hurt the guy.

Yeah, why not? I figured he'd need his fingers more than anyone.

That's right. Anyway, he'll have a campaign staffer do the hand-off.

- A campaign staffer? - Yeah.

I wrote down his name.

Morel Christopher.

- Morel Christopher. - Do you know him?

- That's Moïse's real name. - The witch doctor?

Just a sec.

I've thought about it, but I still don't understand

why a guy who's running for mayor would wanna be associated with a sorcerer.

Are you sure it's a good idea to meet with him?

He can't hurt me. But just in case, try not to touch anything in there.

You never know.

Jahnaël, we've been expecting you.

Please follow me, gentlemen.

Good morning, soldiers. Attention! At ease.

- Okay, everyone. Calm down. - Don't move.

I'm gonna keep it short.

I have good and bad news for you. Where should I start?

With the good? With the bad? No preference?

Then let's start with the bad news.

Parker, the leader of your little gang, is unfortunately deceased.

Really?

Actually, I got in here with his badge.

What the fuck? Goddamn it!

Do any of you wanna pay for this jacket?

Then I'm gonna help myself to some of this.

You can see little bits of his brain still stuck on there.

If you wanna have a look. Parker's out. Sorry about that.

But I have some good news for you. You can keep running gold, equipment, etc.

Exactly as you were before.

I'll make sure no one bothers you out there,

and it won't cost you anything,

except, of course, whatever Parker took out of your sales.

Could be a little more than that. But that's all I'm asking.

So, what you're telling me is, you're the new boss?

Ah! See that? I love it when things are direct, clear, bada bing.

- You get it, I like that. - How old are you guys?

You're all like 25, max, aren't you?

That's cute, but you're in a different world here, kid.

I've studied what you do. You use the weapons provided by the army,

the training provided by the army, the status provided by the army,

to spice up your sad little legionnaire life

by robbing barely armed, barely dangerous peasants.

You steal people's gold.

Again. Hm.

As for us, it's a bit of a cliche, I know, we're from the streets.

We weren't given anything, we weren't provided for.

And now we take everything.

- The tables have turned. - Who the fuck are you?

- Don't move! - Don't move!

My name is Walter.

Aha.

- Walter. I've heard of you. - He'd heard of him.

Before I describe the events that follow,

it feels necessary to revisit Gabriel's story.

He's a former student from the south sector,

who now goes by the name of Walter.

Who the fuck is this dude?

Hey! Stop, or I'll shoot!

- Go, go! - Come on!

You've got a lot of nerve, kid. I'm impressed.

I hear you were planning on reselling my product?

You might have a future in that.

But I'm gonna need you to be smart and bring me that bag before midnight.

There might even be something in it for you. And if you don't...

I'll come back and kill your little girlfriend.

Yeah, I know all about your lady friend.

Heartbreaker.

We've all got our weak points.

See you before midnight, Walter White.

You get it?

The dope, your skin color, Walter White.

You really gotta get a sense of humor, kid.

Let's sell the bag, get the hell out of here,

- and invest the money overseas. - You wanna leave?

Yeah. I don't know, maybe Brazil or Spain.

You're too attached to this city, Gabriel. Who cares about those guys?

We finally have the chance to improve things.

Carole, they're expecting me to sell the bag.

And then leave. I saw it in their eyes.

Why not do what they think you're gonna do?

You think he's gonna give you a cut for returning the bag?

Who do you think you are?

He's gonna take it and then shoot you. Don't fall for his cheap tricks.

You think he saw some big potential in you, is that it?

Potential for what, exactly? You're overestimate yourself.

It's time to wake up. We need to sell the bag and go.

It was obvious that this was a trap.

Going to César's house alone with that bag was like signing your own death warrant.

- We need that cash, I need that cash. - Gabriel's transformation had begun.

It was dawning on him that he might just beat the odds if he put his mind to it.

We can't stay together if...

Hello? Are you even listening to me right now?

Walter White.

To be honest, I'm pleasantly surprised. You didn't try to run away.

You came all the way here, armed only with audacity.

Unfortunately, you're not getting any money.

But I admire your style, kid.

You're gonna work for me. I'll start you off with some little errands,

and we won't do anything to your girl.

I thought about what you said earlier.

Gabriel finally had the opportunity to get in at the bottom.

- First thing you said, you were right. - And climb the ranks, little by little.

- I do have a future in this. - But Gabriel was no longer Gabriel.

But you're wrong about the other thing.

He'd become Walter.

- We've all have our weak points. - I don't have a weak point.

- Huh! Who the fuck is this dude? - All right, to recap, your boss is dead.

Your boss is dead.

Therefore, you're at the mercy of the big bad wolves of the forest.

And if you wanna continue doing business,

you're gonna need a well-connected shepherd.

Otherwise, you'll get eaten by the wolves.

And if I'm not the shepherd, you better believe I'll be the wolf.

So look at me. Look at me.

I'm the captain now.

You got that?

Davies' years of experience had sharpened his instincts.

He could size up an opponent in a matter of seconds.

Okay, I'll retract what I said.

I completely understand guys like you. I'm the same way.

As the strongest one here, you believe you should get what you want.

- I agree with you. - Davies was convinced

he'd spotted Walter's weakness.

Because it's clear to everybody that you're the strongest one.

Here's what I propose, let's go hand-to-hand,

one-on-one, man-to-man.

We all know there can only be one guiding shepherd here.

With so many people watching,

Walter had no choice but to accept the challenge,

if he didn't want his own crew to question his leadership.

- Oh, I forgot to mention one thing... - Fighters, places please.

...it's probably relevant that Davies was a legionnaire specializing

in hand-to-hand combat, boxing, wrestling, jiu jitsu.

Personally, I think he joined the army

because there'd be no referee to stop him from killing his opponents.

Yeah, Walter was about to go hand-to-hand with a monster who never lost a fight.

A fight to the death?

- Like real men. - Like real men.

Let's go!

What now? You don't know how to focus? Learn to concentrate, you bitch.

The tables have turned. And you better keep up, dipshit.

Guess what, we're the bad guys now. We are the bad guys now!

You still don't get it? Just read the subtitles.

We are the bad guys.

Do you really think people are gonna wanna buy a sorcerer's paintings?

I use a pseudonym. The buyers don't know I'm the painter.

"Nadine"? Good idea.

If things end up getting desperate, I was thinking we should team up.

- Move in the same direction. - Like an alliance?

From what I understand, people pay you to put curses on their enemies.

That's not really my thing.

Excuse me, your entire reputation is based on luck.

How would you define luck?

Is it when someone finds 20 dollars on the ground?

- Is that all it is? - If that person needed cash, yeah.

But for someone to find that 20 bucks, someone else had to lose it.

And when that person realized the money was gone,

they must've looked up at the sky, thinking it's a curse,

and that such bad luck could only come from an evil force.

So the one who found the money, as if by magic,

and profited from the other's misfortune, are they lucky?

Or an evil sorcerer?

Or an evil sorcerer?

I think it depends on his intention.

The lucky one didn't ask anything of anyone.

He didn't wish for their misfortune, it just...

happened.

No, no, no, no, no.

Haven't you ever been so broke that you started scanning the ground,

desperately hoping you'd find a bill someone dropped?

Even there, that would necessitate someone else having lost it.

Someone with bad luck.

You can't possibly believe that those bills fell from the sky

and not from someone's pocket. Where's the noble intention?

Wow, good stuff. That's powerful, but what are you trying to say here?

That we're similar?

When people visit your casino, for example,

they pray to their God for good luck.

Or they cross their fingers hoping your casino will lose.

Our two businesses can either be allies, or competitors.

You decide.

Noah, come here for a second, please.

You know the story of how Jahnaël and I met?

- Yeah, we all know it. - Go ahead, tell the story.

This guy's a great storyteller.

Okay, so one night Moïse the sorcerer, was at the casino

- and he was on a major winning streak. - Red, twenty-seven.

It was no big deal for him, he just worked his magic and beat the odds.

I'll take a drink. Twenty-one, red, for everyone.

Who knows, maybe he was able to predict the winning number,

or he could've been casting spells on the dealer to help him win.

Yeah, all right.

But in any case, his winning streak caught the attention of the owner.

Ladies and gentlemen, Jahnaël.

If you guess the right number, you can have it all.

I have a one in 38 chance of guessing the number.

So if I guess right, not only do I get it all,

but you'll owe double your winnings.

Okay?

And if you lose?

Haven't you already won enough, Moïse?

Don't tell me you're gonna let me leave with this.

Come on, what are you betting?

I'm sure you've got something on you.

I've got a gun.

Unlike you, since you were able to get through security.

Fifty thousand for you if you win, and your gun for me if you lose.

What? One false move from me,

and one of your guys will shoot me down.

Nice to meet you, by the way. Moïse.

I think we're all looking forward to seeing the son of

the god of luck in action.

One of their reputations was about to get tarnished,

and chances were 36 out of 37 that it was gonna be Jahnaël's.

Which number would you like to bet on?

Okay, tell me a number, Moïse.

He wanted Moïse to choose the number

because, if he lost, people would say it was because he'd been set up to lose.

And that might've worked, if Moïse hadn't been too clever for him.

I'd rather just let fate decide.

Or luck, should I say. Eight, black.

Eight, black.

No more bets.

Seven red. You've lost.

Bravo, your lucky charms really came through for you.

Now get the hell out of my casino.

Okay. You win.

Everyone who witnessed it

said that the bullet didn't have any effect whatsoever on Moïse.

- Or on his bulletproof vest. - I think that...

I think...

Um...

I think it doesn't matter if they're just tricks. Moïse is Moïse,

and you, you're alive.

Are you with him because you believe his magic is gonna cure your cancer?

Well, people also believe that if someone touches you,

they might absorb a little bit of your good luck.

Do you?

TO MAINTAIN PUBLIC ORDER,

DIRECT KILLING AMONG US IS PROHIBITED.

"DIRECT"? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

My radio broadcast that morning triggered a domino effect

that was already in motion by lunchtime.

Okay, you take the cash back to the casino, Fydo.

We'll talk later.

Walter had claimed an empire,

Moïse had laced Jahnaël's fingers with enough poison that he would die

if he messed around or so much as touched his mouth once.

One thing was increasingly clear, someone was gonna die that day.

Hola, Laeticia.

- Where is the spice bowl? - On that table over there.

Thank you.

Excuse me, mind if I borrow that?

Sure. Oh, actually, can I ask, do you live here?

- Why do you ask? - Well, so I'm here on vacation

and this guide lists a bunch of restaurants and bars,

but I'm really looking for a party or something where I could meet people--

Okay. What kind of girls you into?

No, not necessarily to meet girls.

Yeah, sure, I got you.

Well, you've got a lot of options out here.

Probably noticing how this place is at the intersection

of several different worlds.

That's exactly what everyone told me when I said I was coming here.

I'll admit, even today, I still don't understand what happened.

That's very funny.

How were these guys able to grasp

even the subtlest nuance of a given situation,

in the mere blink of an eye?

It seemed like they could hold an entire conversation

between one another with a single glance.

I've also heard about Carmen's, but it seems pricey.

What's your name?

- MG, what's yours? - I'm sorry, MG,

but you're probably gonna die in a few minutes.

What?

- I don't understand what you're saying. - You stay in the car.

You see the car that just made a U-turn, out there?

He's gonna shoot up this restaurant.

He wants to show that he's not afraid of anything

and that no one should dare try to blackmail him.

But he knows he can't kill me.

So he's gonna shoot someone in front of me to try to scare me.

Given his state of mind, if I'd been alone,

he'd probably end up shooting me, but...

you're here.

And you're not important.

Uh, so you're just gonna let me die?

Just like that?

Come on, bullshit.

I think I should just get outta here, and...

Just talk about soccer, talk about Paris Saint-Germain.

Say that you hate Mbappé, or something like that, sound believable.

You'll have something in common and you might win him over.

Uh, ah...

Hey, you know what?

I was just thinking, the problem with Kylian, Kylian Mbappé, is that,

you know, when you're dealing with a club that's on the international level...

Mind if I sit? Not interrupting anything, I hope.

I mean, the guy's a good sprinter, okay, but the problem is--

Would you mind shutting the fuck up for a minute? Thank you.

I've heard a lot about your family. They'd tell stories when I was growing up.

It really stuck with me, man.

So I had to meet you, to see for myself if you were the real deal.

Verdict?

I've got a question to ask before we get to it. Actually, two.

Why the hell are you always smiling?

If you smile at life, life will smile back.

- I guess that would be why. - Yeah, I guess so...

Here's the second question, do you believe in destiny?

Karma, Nyama, Tao, Mektoub.

The idea that everything's predetermined by God.

I see. If it's already written, do we really have a choice?

- Is that what you're saying? - I think it's all bullshit.

God knows exactly what will happen, and what choices we'll make,

and he's just sitting up there watching things unfold as he predicted?

- I don't buy any of that shit. - Sound like it'd be boring for him, yeah.

Because if we, mere mortals,

can create artificial intelligence that's capable of surprising ourselves,

why wouldn't God also be able to create something complex enough to surprise him?

It doesn't make sense.

Bullshit.

It's precisely because I believe in him that I can't believe that.

I don't think our creator is the kind of guy who'd get bored watching his own film.

I don't know about you guys,

but I'm sure I could surprise him, and I will.

Yeah. Life never smiled at me.

It only ever frowned.

Not like with you, Jahnaël.

The legendary child, the chosen one, right?

So if God's plan is for you to be the protagonist of the story,

sit back and watch.

Because I'm about to flip the script.

So, you came here to kill me, is that it?

I'd love to, honestly, but I'm not stupid, Mr. Lucky.

If I kill you here, they'll say it's because you accused me,

that I was afraid of getting screwed, and blah, blah, blah and blah, blah, blah.

I know I shouldn't do it.

I know it's the wrong move.

But in the end, I fear no one.

Not the police...

not a gangster, not even fate.

I'm fearless.

As for you, you little bitch, don't you dare talk about soccer in my presence.

- And especially not PSG. Mbappé? - No, but I--

No, but what? Mbappé's overrated? Mbappé Lottin is the best in the world.

Here you are, sir.

Well, thanks.

Sorry about your friend, Jahnaël, but he hit a nerve.

- No one gets the upper hand on me. - No, please!

- I do what I want. - Wait, stop.

You listen to me, no one's gonna blackmail me, don't forget that.

No, no, please!

Can't you read?

Weapons are prohibited in my restaurant.

- Calm down, we're good. - I won't repeat myself.

Relax, I'm leaving your shitty little restaurant.

From now on, you'll be more respectful

when you talk about a soccer legend,

you fucking loser.

Why'd you tell me to say that?

It was either you or me, buddy. I owe you one.

Tell your White friend he can't bring a knife in here.

This kid definitely knows who the traitor is.

She intercepted a call from the mayor the night of his arrest.

So if you turn out to be the snitch,

what I just told you will probably get her killed.

There are five of us left, including the rat.

So she has a four in five chance of surviving.

That should be enough.

Five gangsters.

You're not counting you?

My head and chest are literally about to explode.

Moïse got to me before you, bro.

The tables have turned.

It seems like I've upset the balance.

The girl knows who the traitor is.

I need you to spare her.

She knows who it is.

Spare her, please, I beg you.

I realize I haven't written much about Éric.

Aside from the fact that he was in prison for a long time,

there's very little about him I can be certain of.

I do know that he was the second one to get snitched on.

I know that he suspected it,

and that he'd do anything in his power to avoid going back to prison.

Fine, but first, let my mother out.

- Mom, can you step out? - And I also know that,

while serving time, his mother would smuggle in drugs

during visits, which he'd then sell.

Please, let my mother leave. We'll settle this between men.

This is what got him through prison and also enabled him...

- You and I both know, I'm not going back. - ...to develop a vast network from inside.

You bastards! Hey! Can't you at least wait until my mom's gone?

- Please let her go. - How many cops did you kill?

I often wondered if she'd chosen to do this.

Can't remember?

If she had given up on the idea of saving her son's soul,

so long as he was safe.

But when it comes to Éric, I'm not sure of anything.

Except for the fact that, like the rest of them, he was a monster.

Officer, please.

But in a world of monsters...

Mom, please, I'm sorry.

...who's the real monster?

Open the door!

How does that even happen?

Essentially, to counteract the effects of the poison he ingested,

he must've injected ketamine as an antidote.

That particular poison acts very quickly.

He didn't even have time to go to the hospital.

But he survived because he had ketamine in his blood before ingesting the poison.

- Is that right? - Yes, but the amount of ketamine

in his bloodstream was, frankly, shocking.

Even a serious drug addict wouldn't have injected that amount.

He could've had a heart attack at any moment,

even the slightest physical exertion would've set it off.

Then how is he still alive?

That's the most astonishing part.

The venom actually rebalanced his system.

So if he hadn't ingested as much venom, he would've overdosed on ketamine?

And if he hadn't been injected so much ketamine,

he would've died from the venom.

Okay, okay.

Let's keep this quiet. Here you go.

Thank you.

Tell your brother I said hello.

Why doesn't your kid speak?

Earlier, you were saying she knows who the snitch is.

Were you delirious, or were you just trying to be strategic?

What do you want, man?

Look at your phone.

While you were out, the police tried to arrest Éric

using information provided by the informant, who's still out there.

They tried to bring him in, shit went south and they killed him.

How much do I owe you for bringing me here?

Does the girl really know the truth?

How's that possible?

It's partly my fault the legionnaire was eliminated,

and the traitor's gonna use that to get you to vote against me.

You pointed the finger at Walter, and like you said earlier,

Moïse tried to kill you.

You don't need to be a genius to figure that out.

The one who's going down is either you or me.

I think we need to stop playing dumb, share the information we have,

and work together to get out of this situation.

Let's talk somewhere else.

Did you receive the message from Madame Santos?

Éric was arrested.

And you're supposed to report to the manor tomorrow morning.

You're still going to eliminate someone?

Naturally.

Is that all?

You asked me to suggest a revote

if there ends up being a tie after tomorrow's deliberation.

I still can't figure it out. How would you benefit from that?

It's to be sure we eliminate the traitor. Jahnaël.

Jahnaël, he's the rat?

- But how did you...? - It's only logical.

Okay.

Nine gangsters. The mayor arrested.

Parker and Éric out of the picture.

At our meeting, Parker targeted Mickaël, and vice versa.

...exactly who I'd try to milk for info.

- Éric, Walter. - You getting nervous again, buddy?

- You freaking out? - They both followed

Mickaël's lead and accused Parker, while Howard and I stuck with Mickaël.

- But who did Jahnaël vote against? - Walter.

Do you mind not tapping on the table, Walter?

At the point when Moïse asked Jahnaël for his input...

What do you think, Jah?

...there were just as many accusations against Parker

as there were against Mickaël.

So Jahnaël's vote would have been decisive.

Yeah, so?

Especially if Moïse intended to side with him.

The arguments against each of them were pretty logical.

So, why didn't he side with any of them?

No. Maybe he just didn't believe that Parker or Mickaël was the snitch.

No one believed anything for certain,

but everyone had a slight suspicion.

So everyone accused the one they thought was the most likely.

Well, maybe he didn't have those suspicions.

Exactly. He didn't seem to suspect anyone.

And the only person around the table who could be certain

that Parker or Mickaël wasn't the traitor...

- Is the traitor himself. - Bingo, my dear Wilson.

By voting for neither, no one could say he'd accused an innocent person.

It's possible he just didn't want to be responsible for someone's death.

He might just be less ruthless than you.

That's one possibility. Here are all the potential outcomes.

I'd say this one is the most likely.

Baby. I hope you come home in one piece.

I'm gonna need every inch of you tonight.

Suzie, we have guests.

Fuck, are you serious? Jesus.

This is my fiancée, Suzanne. Suzanne, Jahnaël.

And... what's her name?

No idea.

This is, uh, his friend.

Can you keep an eye on her, please? We need to discuss something important.

Thank you.

- Is it serious? - Don't worry.

If it were up to me...

we wouldn't kill anyone.

I get that we'll benefit either way,

any collateral damage from the rat-hunt could work in our favor.

We'll each get bigger slices of the pie.

But in any case, I'm leaving.

I'm not an obstacle. You all get my share.

I just wanna get this over with as fast as possible.

Moïse wants to be mayor.

He's been wanting to get into politics for a long time,

but he never would've stood a chance against Guérin.

Everyone knows that. Moïse most of all.

So Moïse snitched on the mayor so he could take over his seat at city hall?

Initially, yeah.

How could he have justified investing so much money on his campaign,

without being sure that the mayor would lose?

Why didn't you ask that question at the manor? In front of everyone?

Because they would've told me

that the reason Moïse believed he could win against Guérin

was because he trusted his magic.

That wasn't magic he used on me. It was poison, that's all it was.

He used chemistry. Do you think chemistry can win elections?

No. But the sorcerer's business depends on his reputation.

You're overestimating people's belief in witchcraft, dude.

You have no idea how many of my guys go buy bulletproof charms before a heist.

My friends it in the music biz meet with witch doctors instead of producers.

My own fiancée even,

she's been going to some kind of spiritual advisor

to increase her chances of getting pregnant.

Whether you like it or not, it's something deeply ingrained.

Even those who barely believe in witchcraft are still afraid of it.

And what makes you think I'm not one of those people?

I can see that Moïse's faith in his own magic is far from unshakable.

Because I'm a man of God, I know what faith looks like. Real faith.

And with you, your faith is your luck.

I know you can see that his faith isn't the real thing.

It's on you now.

The mayor called my phone right before he got arrested.

Obviously to warn me about the traitor.

Pick up your fucking phone!

But I had just injected myself with a huge dose of ketamine.

So you don't remember what he said?

That little girl who answered the phone, he must've given her the information.

The problem is, she doesn't speak.

- Is she mute? - No, but she doesn't speak.

- I don't get it. - Answer, answer!

After my parents died, it took me 18 months to start talking again.

Two years before I could have a normal conversation.

It can happen.

- But who is this girl? - That's not relevant here.

And how do you know he told her if she hasn't said anything?

The call lasted 37 seconds.

Two minutes before his arrest, 37 seconds.

The mayor started speaking, he didn't wait for me to say anything.

But it wasn't me on the phone.

Answer, answer!

Are you sure?

The doctor told me about the effects of ketamine.

If your blood was full of that shit...

I'm not trying to doubt you. I just want an answer.

- Are you sure? - I'm sure.

Pick up.

What's your plan?

Do you know what "automatic" means?

My stupid fiancé Mike got this to get out of doing his own chores.

It's genius, huh? What do you think?

So cool.

You can talk to me if you want.

Sweetheart...

talk to me.

Did you spend the whole night on the roof?

You're leaving?

Mickaël?

I gotta go to a quick meeting. Okay?

- What's going on? - Suze, it's me.

- Do you trust me? - I do.

But are we just talking about you, or do I have to trust him, too?

How can I help?

- The kid, she say anything? - No, she didn't say a word.

Why?

Mickaël.

You know, some guys are lucky. I'm not like that.

I'm blessed.

Mickaël.

Mickaël.

- You fucking asshole. - What?

If you're planning on dying today, just know you're a real piece of shit.

Not because it'll break my heart or anything.

No, that's not why.

I mean, it's not because I've honestly put aside and sacrificed

almost my entire existence for us.

Not because of that.

Not because you'd leave me on my own,

with all the plans we made for our future family.

Not because of that.

- Suze. - No.

If you die today, asshole, I'm gonna rebuild my life.

Suzanne.

- I know that I'm exceptional. I am. - Suzanne.

So yeah, I'll be sad for a while, but I know I'll be fine.

I'll find another man, a good, stable man.

- And I'll build a nice home with him. - Suze!

And I'll be happy, just like I deserve. But you can't die today, Mickaël.

Not today, Mickaël, you can't die. You can't!

Because in 60 years,

when I'm lying in bed, dying of old age,

and the gates of heaven are opening up for me,

you won't be there.

You won't be there, you'll be in hell, you fucking asshole!

And I'll have to spend eternity without you.

And a life without you, I can do that. No problem.

Even after all you promised me. I know I'm capable.

But an eternity without you, Mickaël...

...no matter how amazing heaven is, I can't bear that.

That would be hell, and I don't deserve hell, Mickaël.

I don't deserve it, okay?

And if you die today, you're an asshole.

You need to repent first.

You need to become a better person, so you can go to heaven.

And then we'll be together, like we planned.

Repent, and only then, Mickaël, you can go get killed

because I swear I won't fucking care.

I promise.

I'm not gonna die today.

I swear to God.

Our Father, who art in heaven...

- Hallowed be thy name. - Hallowed be thy name.

- Thy kingdom come... - Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.

THE MANOR IS A PLACE OF NON-VIOLENCE.

IN THEORY, NO ONE CAN HURT ME HERE... EXCEPT FOR MRS. SANTOS?

Welcome back, everyone. First of all, thank you for being here.

Let's review our predicament. There's a rat hidden amongst all of you.

It would be wise for you to do everything you can to get rid of it.

But that's your business, so it's your decision.

So as my late husband used to say...

I can't say how long the debate lasted.

- "Every last fucking detail counts." - Five minutes? Fifteen minutes?

Fifty seconds? I have no idea.

All I can say is, while it was happening, I didn't take in a single thing I heard.

I was too busy worrying about Ariane's predictions coming true,

that I'd get sucked into this.

I can't do that. I'm not a criminal, I'm just the assistant.

Okay. But if this scenario does play out,

just know that either we revote, or we all end up in a pool of blood,

Mister "Assistant-not-Criminal."

And that's exactly what was about to happen.

And as you'd probably guess...

That's an excellent idea, Wilson.

...I made the wrong choice.

Every little detail counts.

What's crucial is that we vote together.

In theory, there'll be two against you, two against me.

If we wanna stand a chance, we need to unite against Moïse.

We'll have to convince one of the other three to join us.

Ariane, Howard, Walter, doesn't matter.

Walter will never follow my lead. That's impossible.

Yes, but Walter hates Howard and Howard hates Walter.

We need to rile them up so that Howard targets Walter, and Walter targets Howard.

Okay, yeah, maybe Howard could vote for Walter.

But how can you be sure Walter will retaliate?

Walter is exactly the kind of guy I'd never recruit for a heist.

I know dudes like that inside and out.

Rage clouds their judgment and makes them predictable.

If Howard votes for Walter,

Walter will vote for Howard. We'll have won.

If Howard votes for Walter, you're safe.

But if Walter doesn't retaliate,

Ariane and Moïse will vote against me, and I'm dead.

Are you sure you're not roping me into your plan to save your own life,

and yours alone?

I won't let you down. You can trust me.

Walter will vote for Howard. It'll work.

Okay, we've got a guy with a lot of sway

who's supposed to be some kind of expert in research,

investigations and police stuff. My guy, Howard.

Explain to us how it's possible

that we still don't know the name of the detective

who's got this snitch by the balls.

Well, actually, I've made some progress in that respect.

A few minutes ago I found out who it is. I just received the information.

Why didn't you open with that?

- Because no one asked the question. - Who is it?

We should get to that after we've killed the traitor, don't you think?

No, no, no,

if we end up eliminating you, you'll take that fucking cop's name to the grave.

Well then, you'd better not eliminate me.

Relax, take it easy, it's a joke. His name is Maxime Gonzalez.

He's been in the country for a week.

Maxime Gonzalez? That's all you got?

- You don't have a-- - Maybe we should start the discussion?

Unless you'd like to begin by accusing Howard.

- It's not impossible. - I can't believe this.

You've already fucked up by killing Parker, like an idiot.

Now you wanna do that to me? Stop messing around, blondie.

Careful how you talk to me, you knock-off Justin Timberlake.

Can we get back on track now?

Strangely enough, Éric, who didn't think much of you,

- got ratted on yesterday. - Okay, okay.

In response to these pathetic arguments,

I feel obligated to direct my accusation against this thug right here.

I think he's the rat.

If that's not the case, it won't be much of a loss,

given his reasoning skills are seriously limited.

Walter!

I was just pointing out a coincidence,

and you've played your last accusation card.

Walter, sit back down, please.

I don't really follow.

Was that an accusation, Walter?

And if Walter doesn't accuse him?

Ariane and Moïse will cast their votes against me, and I'll be dead.

No.

- It's over, Jah. - Ariane.

Just hear me out.

I know it's partly my fault Parker was eliminated last time,

but I'm not a traitor. I keep my word.

I know you're too smart to be convinced by that.

But you need to believe me if you want us to live.

Jahnaël isn't the guy, Moïse is the snitch.

You seem so sure of yourself.

Where did you get this certainty?

From God?

- From Jah? - No.

I've enjoyed your little song and dance about being a moral guy,

full of principle. But it's not working.

We're not allies, and I think you're the traitor.

- What? - Oh, what a twist.

- Jahnaël, what're you doing? - Mickaël approached me about an alliance,

even though he had no guarantee that I'm not the traitor.

Surprising, don't you think?

The fuck are you doing?

He's only doing this to save his family.

He'll do anything for that. I saw it with my own eyes.

He's not acting in our best interest.

I've thought it over, and Parker was right.

But if I were a cop, you'd be exactly who I'd try to milk for info.

You could easily manipulate him by threatening his loved ones, for example.

And I'm sure the detective who's been tracking us has already figured that out.

- Sorry about your family, bro. - Don't call me "bro," you piece of shit.

But I'm sure you've been ratting on us.

You knew that I wanted to eliminate Jahnaël, am I right?

And you had no reason to come to his defense.

No one would've accused you. You were the least at risk.

Jahnaël could've been eliminated. I wanna know why you took the risk.

It's probably to get Jahnaël on his side, in preparation for the next rounds.

- It's obvious. - That's too risky.

The traitor's short-term goal is simple survival.

So logically, for him to take such a risk, he must believe what he's saying.

Well... either you're suicidal, or you know something.

Hm. I'll follow you on Moïse.

Don't disappoint me, Mickaël.

- You're giving me a headache. - Mickaël is the snitch.

Anyway, I don't really have a choice.

Walter, the decision is yours.

I hate to do this, but...

No, I'm kidding, I love it. I love it.

Walter will never vote with me, that's impossible.

If I were you, I would have voted for Mickaël.

And don't forget that luck tends to be on my side.

You know what?

I've sacrificed too much to leave my destiny in the hands of luck.

Moïse, the legend.

In this part of the world, a witch doctor is who you turn to in desperate times,

when hope is all you've got. The hope of a miracle.

The hope of survival. The hope of salvation.

- How can I help? - The kid, she say anything?

Sweetheart, talk to me.

My own fiancée even, she's been going to see some kind of spiritual advisor...

There's no indication that she's important to me.

- I'm sure she is. - You have no way of being sure.

Either way, if I die, she dies.

In excruciating pain.

You're running out of time to save my life, and by extension, hers.

You can get it done. I would never underestimate your talent.

Fuck this. Fuck this.

- ...mind if I borrow that? - Fuck this.

- Fuck this. Fuck, fuck, fuck! - Look closely!

Tell your White friend he can't bring a knife in here.

Fuck! Fuck this.

Fucking do it, Walter, vote for Mickaël so we can finish this.

You don't know what you're doing, do you, kid?

- Who are you talking to? - He was just about to vote.

I don't hold Moïse in high regard, far from it.

In fact, I think he's a piece of shit.

But Mickaël is the snitch, that's a fact.

The reason he defended me was so he could have an ally up until this is over.

His plan must've been to have the most influential person, Moïse, eliminated,

then immediately betray an ally, Ariane or me, for example.

That way, no one would suspect him, and his victory would be secured.

What the hell are you talking about, motherfucker?

What, is it your pride that's keeping you from making a decision in line with mine?

Is that it?

- We don't have time to screw around. - Shut your fucking mouth.

You think this is all about pride, huh?

My nervousness, my impulsiveness, or whatever other bullshit.

You underestimate me, and that's what makes you predictable.

You're not the smartest guy in the room anymore, Jahnaël.

Ariane's arguments are sound, that's how I'll vote.

If you're as smart as you say, bro,

you must've noticed that Michelangelo did everything he could to keep Howard

- from telling us about the detective. - Jahnaël, you're a fucking bastard.

His name is Maxime Gonzalez.

Maxime Gonzalez?

- That's all you got? - Maybe we should start the discussion.

Unless you'd like to begin by accusing Howard?

- Elaborate. - Right when you were about to ask Howard

for more information about the cop's identity, he changed the subject.

What's he afraid of? Maybe Howard was bluffing.

He doesn't really have any info on the cop,

but he said that to provoke the snitch,

who would be the most nervous after hearing the news.

The two people who reacted strangely were you and Mickaël.

Howard didn't act randomly. It's your reaction that makes him think

- you're the traitor. - Knock-off Justin Timberlake.

Obligated to direct my accusation against this thug right here.

But I think he's wrong.

You asked him to spill everything he knows, but it was Mickaël

who wanted him to keep quiet. What was Mickaël so afraid of, then?

Jahnaël, you're a dead man. You're a fucking dead man!

Howard?

That's correct, that's the reason I voted the way I voted,

but I wasn't bluffing.

- Okay, what info you got? - His identity...

- ...and his photo. - And could you show us that photo?

I think it's a bad idea for him to show it to us.

Let's eliminate Mickaël and deal with this later.

Walter, Walter, Walter, do not listen to this piece of shit.

Do not believe a word!

Why are you panicking about him showing us what he knows, Jah?

- We just don't need to see it now. - It does seem like you're panicked.

And for that reason, I really wanna see it.

This is the detective, the one who's in contact with the snitch.

His name is Maxime Gonzalez.

- What's your name? - MG, what's yours?

Would you mind shutting the fuck up for a minute?

Can't you read?

Tell your White friend he can't bring a knife in here.

No!

No! No!

No!

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Shit! That son of a bitch is the snitch.

What? No!

It looks like it's a tie between Mickaël...

- No! - ...and Moïse.

You're dead. You're dead!

- Should I shoot both of them? - No.

- Shit! - No, no, no, no, no, no. No!

This can't be possible. No, no, no, no.

In case of a tie, we need to revote.

Suggest that, Wilson.

If I suggest it,

- Jahnaël will definitely be killed. - You're dead!

Suggesting a revote would be synonymous with condemning this man to death.

- We're at an impasse. - But saying nothing...

- Should I shoot both of them? - ...condemns them both.

And why would I suggest anything?

It would have to come from someone impartial.

Impartial, me?

Heads or tails.

Luck is always impartial.

That's an excellent idea, Wilson.

Tails, Mickaël dies.

And heads, Moïse dies.

Moïse, the legend. Born from a cursed mother.

It was said that she'd tried to bewitch a wealthy politician

to make him fall in love with her.

But something went wrong, and a demon took possession of her body,

impregnating her with a son.

I'd say it's more likely

that the poor woman was simply the mistress of an important man

who got her pregnant and then accused her of witchcraft to deny what he'd done.

Her "possession" was more likely a deep depression, rather than any curse,

but everyone believed the story, so much so that after she let herself die,

no man of faith would agree to bury her body.

No gravedigger would dare carve her name onto her tombstone.

In fact, to this day, nobody remembers her name.

But everyone will surely remember Moïse, the most powerful sorcerer in the region.

They'll remember his power, his legendary story.

But to perfect his portrait...

Heads. Moïse dies.

Moïse, the legend, needed his death to be memorable.

That would mean his portrait was complete.

ORIGINALLY, THE PACT

THE MAYOR, PARKER, ÉRIC, MOÏSE, AND JAHNAËL.

WHY THEM? BECAUSE...

If I die, she dies.

Is everything okay, Jahnaël?

I mean, if I'm still talking to Jahnaël.

Thanks.

Jahnaël, Moïse wanted me to inform you that your package is ready.

My package?

If anything happens to that package...

I'll come and find you.

- Judy? - Jah?

- Why are you here? - Why are you here?

- You're working for Moïse now? - That's not really your problem.

Uh, I'm picking up a package. I was given this address.

A package? I can't let you in.

Were you explicitly ordered not to let me in?

I was told to keep watch here.

So nothing's stopping you from opening. Watch me if you want.

You should wait for the boss to come back. I don't want any problems.

You're armed, not me.

At least tell me if my package is there.

He put something in the cold storage.

Listen, Jah, I'm not allowed to look inside there.

Fuck that, Judy. Just go look inside.

Uh, listen, Jah--

I'm not asking you to open the fucking door.

I'm asking you to check if the girl is in there.

The girl?

What--?

- What girl? - Think about it, Judy.

He ordered you to stay here, alone and unarmed.

He gave me the address, and this door right here doesn't do shit,

one shot through the lock, and I'm in there.

Please, can you check if there's a little girl in that cold storage?

This is the last time I'm gonna ask.

Okay.

Holy shit!

Shit.

Hey, Jahnaël, I swear, I didn't know.

I swear I didn't know about this.

- Open the door. - Oh, fuck

Open the door.

If I open it, you'll shoot me.

Open the door. I'll spare you.

You have my word.

Okay.

Mickaël! I gave the little girl to someone who could help her speak again.

He told me he knew you.

He took her with him, saying he'd bring her back here later.

Pack your suitcase. Right now.

We have to go.

Surprisingly, Judy remembered several details

about how the girl came to be locked in the cold storage.

How long has she been in there?

He was locking the door by the time I got here, a little over an hour ago.

8:33.

And did you happen to see the code he entered?

No.

The temperature had been raised.

It would normally take a good six hours

- before the girl would freeze to death. - It's been an hour.

The problem was, she wasn't moving.

Immobility accelerates hypothermia,

and that's probably why Moïse had given her sleeping pills.

I'm gonna ask you one last time, Judy.

Are you sure you didn't see the code?

I didn't, I swear to God.

And you're sure he told you you weren't allowed to have a weapon?

Yes.

Gambling had made Jahnaël quite good at mental arithmetic.

In your opinion, approximately how long would sleeping pills work

on a child of her size?

Six hours minimum, right?

- A four-digit code... - What are you doing?

Just over a second to try a combination.

You're gonna try every combination? There must be thousands of them.

He had tried ten combinations in 15 seconds.

It would take him four hours and 40 minutes to try each one.

Ten thousand combinations, to be exact.

She'll be dead in three hours, max. Especially if he gave her sleeping pills.

It took Judy a few moments to realize

what he was about to witness,

a scene meticulously prepared by Moïse to shatter the myth of Jahnaël.

Everything was in place.

Stakes, fate, and a witness.

Ten thousand possible codes,

or a .01 percent chance of landing on the one Moïse had chosen.

It would take roughly four hours to find the right combination of numbers.

If it only took three hours, that'd be an unexpected success.

In two hours, it'd be suspiciously good luck.

But in one hour, practically impossible.

And the little girl, well, she only had three hours left.

So, what sane human being

would calmly start testing 10,000 codes, one by one?

Watching this was terrifying.

Moïse knew that Jahnaël would choose to believe in his luck...

Guess the right number, you can have it all.

...and fascinating, because Judy believed in it, too.

It was Jah, after all. Mr. Lucky.

So something miraculous was bound to happen.

I always wondered whether Judy was surprised by the fact

that Jahnaël hadn't found the code in the first hour.

And when the second hour was up, did he start to have doubts?

Did he wonder, even for a second, whether Moïse had rigged the game,

and no code would ever open the door?

No, I don't think so. It was obvious that some code would work.

Moïse had only one objective: to break Jahnaël.

To prove that his destiny was stronger than sheer luck.

And for that, a witness was needed.

Judy had to see that a code did indeed unlock the door,

but that the so-called Mr. Lucky had found it too late.

4789, 4790, 4791.

Having tested 5000 combinations, Jahnaël decided to change his strategy.

He would try the remaining 5000 in a descending order,

starting with the last one, just in case Moïse had anticipated

that he'd try them in chronological order.

9999, 9998, 9997.

Over two and a half hours had passed.

The little girl was on the verge of death, and still the door hadn't opened.

Failure was not an option for Jahnaël. Luck would eventually find him.

Hopefully, the sleeping pills would wear off earlier than expected,

or the girl would wake up, or twitch, anything to delay the hypothermia.

Or maybe she would have one of those bodies that miraculously resist the cold.

Whatever it was, something had to happen.

Anything.

Something always happened for Jahnaël, even when he didn't ask for it.

This was the one day he really needed it.

Jah, Mr. Lucky himself, couldn't be unlucky today.

8245, 8244, 8243.

Three hours. She was probably already dead.

Jahnaël didn't even dare check if she was still breathing

which was nearly impossible.

I can't begin to imagine his state of mind after spending three hours

trying over 8000 combinations.

Three hours, a hundred and eighty minutes,

ten thousand, eight hundred seconds, and no result.

And yet, he was the one who had chosen this approach.

He could have tried to break down the door.

Instead, he'd chosen to believe in his lucky star,

which had never failed him, and had saved him from certain death,

even though he wouldn't have minded dying.

How could his luck abandon him now?

Using this method, a four-digit code can be found in less than four hours.

Statistically, this makes sense.

Beyond that time frame, it was still an exceptional feat, but useless to him.

Jahnaël had now tested over 9800 possible codes.

Nine thousand eight hundred.

What was the probability that the correct combination wasn't one of those,

but was instead in the remaining 200?

At this point, it was more than lack of luck, it was extremely bad luck.

In any case, the little girl was already dead.

He only had 10 possibilities left to try, 5008, 5007.

He had taken the maximum time, four hours and 45 minutes,

to go through the 10,000 combinations.

If the correct code was actually among the 10 remaining combinations

that Jahnaël had randomly chosen to save for last,

it would only highlight the absurdity of the situation.

In the end, the little girl died alone in that storage room.

However...

Moïse hadn't made her swallow sleeping pills to speed up hypothermia.

He had done it for one reason only...

to keep her from moving.

The sorcerer had placed his faith in Jahnaël.

Moïse thought that luck would help Jah find the code quickly,

that he would enter the cold storage to rescue the little girl,

trigger the motion-activated bomb,

and they'd both be killed in the explosion.

That was the plan. Moïse's ultimate curse.

Killing Jahnaël with his own luck. It was perfect.

Ten thousand possible combinations,

and Mr. Lucky found the right one after 9,997 tries.

After four hours and 45 minutes,

once the girl's sleeping pills had worn off,

just in time for her to finally move, set off the bomb, and die.

Only her.

If he'd found the code even five minutes earlier, Jahnaël would have gone with her.

His lucky star hadn't left him after all.

This man, during every second of those last five hours,

had only wanted one thing, to find the code.

And even if he'd known about the bomb,

would he have stopped trying to open the door?

Either way, luck didn't ask for his opinion.

The chosen one, right?

When it came to his life versus someone else's,

even when that someone else was an innocent child,

Lady Luck would always choose Jah.

Jah had no choice.

Initially, the story was quite simple: gangsters, a traitor, and a detective.

But in these last 48-hours, the balance was shattered,

and the monster showed its face.

The worst was yet to come.

No, no. Please, no. No!

Jah, please. You said you'd keep your word, man.

You were involved in an explosion that cost the life of an innocent person.

I know you were working for Jahnaël.

Did he order you to set it off?

I don't think so, no. Hm.

That's not his style.

I think I finally understand what's happening.

Soon they're all gonna understand.

What do you understand?

They talk about the "god of luck," but that's not what he is.

He's a devil.

A fucking demon.

Yo, yo, yo! It's 8 a.m.,

and you're listening to Sun FM, the best--

MOÏSE WASN'T MOÏSE.

I DIDN'T GET IT UNTIL I RE-READ EVERYTHING.

You reviewed your notes, didn't you?