All language subtitles for Mutant Hunt (1987)

(dramatic music)

(whirring)

- Serum activation should begin now.

(electricity hissing)

Excellent.

Even more violent than I'd imagined.

Our customers will be
pleased, don't you think?

Glad you agree.

Come.

(tolling music)

- Hydro, what was that?

- The intel track cyborg
has been activated, Domina.

- The altered units?

- That is correct.

- Z must be out of his mind.

The way he has them programmed,
they'll turn against him.

Be lucky if he isn't ripped apart.

- Five different models,
a thousand of each.

Total carnage.

Uncontrolled fury.

What more could anyone ask?

Call the maintenance droids.

I want this mess cleaned up at once.

And the evidence incinerated.

- [Hydro] Shall I disengage the monitors

in his laboratory, Domina?

- Don't be a fool.

Let's just keep an eye on what he's up to,

'til I'm ready to unveil
my creation to the world.

Z can play with his pathetic toys.

(crashes and bangs)

(electronic screeching)

- Forgive me, Domina.

I didn't mean to...

- No harm done, Hydro.

Just remember, everything Z and his people

have ever worked on
started in my laboratory.

Everything, including you.

- [Hydro] Yes, Domina.

- Z, that thieving swine.

(beeps)

- Z.

What the hell happened?

- Haynes.

I thought the lab was empty.

- So did I.

These are Delta Sevens.

They weren't ready for activation.

Where are the other three?

- Security is retrieving them,
probably at this very moment.

No harm done.

- Just a goddamn minute.

I've spent the last year on these cyborgs,

and you've reduced them
to a pile of scrap.

- My scrap, doctor.

Your work is done for the
benefit of my corporation.

You wish to keep your position,

you'll forget everything you've seen.

(electric whirring)

- Paul.

What was all that noise downstairs?

- Hold on.

(computer beeping)

Z activated the Delta Sevens.

They went berserk.

- How?

Why?

(beeps)

- There's an alien molecule
in the fluid system.

- Euphoron.

Who the hell would introduce
a narcotic into their system?

- Electro-mechanical malfunctions.

Anti-organic reactions,

triggered by pre-programmed
sexual response.

See if the mutations escaped.

- Who are you calling?

- Matt Riker.

- A mercenary?

- Those cyborgs can't be
stopped by ordinary means.

Damn, he doesn't answer.

- Doctor Haynes,

we have been ordered to
detain you and your sister

for illegal mutation of the Delta Sevens.

- Run, Darla!

(crashes)

(muffled shouting)

(fast music)

(lasers shooting)

(lasers shooting)

(door bangs)

(loud laser shot)

(knocking)

- Matt Riker?

- Yeah.

- I'm in trouble.

- You bet you are, sweetheart.

- Thanks for knocking.

- What is that?

(stretching)

(fluid squirting)

(electric sputtering)

(electric sputtering)

(glass smashes)

(screams)

- They aren't human.

- No kidding.

- Got a cigarette?

Thanks.

I just took a chance you'd be here.

My brother and I are in trouble.

He told me to come to you.

- Did he tell you I'm expensive?

- Yeah, I know.

You worked with him one time in Istanbul.

His name's Paul.

Paul Haynes?

- Haynes?

Saved my neck on that job.

Guess I owe him one.

Fill me in.

- I hardly know where to begin.

- What do you want already?

- Okay.

Paul's head of research at Inteltrax.

He designed a new line of
cyborgs, the Delta Sevens

for hazardous occupations.

A few hours ago, three of
the Deltas malfunctioned.

Someone had introduced
euphoron into their system.

- Euphoron?

Who'd wanna get robots high?

- I don't know, but
apparently the drug decays

and mutates the psychosexual
response programs,

corrupting the reasoning cortex.

- What's that in English?

- They kill for pleasure.

Where's Paul now?

- He's being detained
by Inteltrax security.

- They can't do that, can they?

- Inteltrax has a government contract.

They can hold anyone for 72 hours

since the federation act of...

- Of two years ago.

Ever since the space shuttle sex murders.

If you can't stop the mutants, Riker,

who knows how many innocent
people they'll murder?

- I'll give it a try.

These two weren't so tough.

- The Deltas have five
times their strength.

They also have a limited telepathic power,

allowing them to sense potential harm.

- Meaning?

- Well, as long as you're hunting them...

- They'll be hunting me?

No.

No, no, no, I don't think so.

I just remembered I have
another gig this weekend.

But a know a couple of
guys work real cheap.

Just kidding.

(dramatic music)

(screams)

(crashes)

(knife clatters)

(laser shooting)

(dog barks)

- You okay?

- Yes.

That poor girl.

- Easy come, easy go.

- How can you say that?

- Relax.

She's a pleasure droid.

Last year's model.

I smell euphoron.

They must have been pumped full of it.

Seems to me an old friend of mine

is on a euphoron trail for the feds.

(dance music)

(audience talking and laughing)

- Go get her.

She looks like your type.

Let's get some of that action.

- Look out for behind you, Elaine!

What's the matter with you?

Don't touch the lady.
- Alright, yeah, come on!

- Get her, get her.

Come on, get her!

Get her, get her, come on, get her!

Alright, yeah, yeah!

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

(applause)

- Thank you, thank you.

The next show starts at midnight,

if anyone's still conscious.

Hello, Riker.

Catch my act?

- Just the encore.

Darla Haynes, meet Elaine Eliot,

private op, bounty hunter,
dancer in the Seven Belles.

- Nice, Riker.

Business or pleasure?

- Business.

Blotter job, two targets.

You in?

- Maybe.

Official federation sanctions
or private contract?

- It's private.

Personal favor.

- Well, that's real sentimental.

But I'd want my usual fee.

- I'll cover you.

- Human targets?

- Cyborgs.

- Mutants.

Psychosexual killers.

- Are you still on that euphoron case?

- Yeah.

Funny, the drug keeps getting smuggled in

from the lunar colonies,

but someone is buying
it out, forwarding it.

The regular users are getting jumpy.

There's a huge load piling up somewhere.

- The mutants have
euphoron in their systems.

- Is Johnny Felix in town?

- Yeah.

He's got some new toys,
might come in handy.

- Okay, call him and come around my place

soon as you can.

- Riker, how do I find these mutants?

- You don't.

They find you.

(dials phone)

- Hydro, put me through to Z.

(phone rings)

- Yes?

- Z, how good to hear your voice.

It's been such a long time.

So much blood under the bridge.

- What is it, Domina?

- Z, as your old colleague,
as well as your ex-partner,

I thought I might have some information

that would be of interest to you.

But if I'm mistaken, please
don't let me disturb you.

- You've been playing these games

for too many years, Domina.

Now what is it?

Do you want something from me

or are you planning something
that's going to hurt me?

- That genetic strain you
introduced into your Delta Sevens?

It's about to cause
you a few more problems

than you anticipated.

- What do you know about it?

- Enough to know that
you've got Matt Riker

and his merry band on your case, baby.

- What are you talking about?

- Z, you've made it very
difficult for those of us

who like to use euphoron as
our favorite entertainment.

And I for one feel that
I must go on record

as telling you that I resent it.

I really do.

- You're so euphoroned out right now,

you don't know what you're talking about.

- Maybe.

And maybe not.

I do know that Riker's
picking up some private ops

to take out your runaways.

- What's in this for you?

- You realize that once
those cyborgs get blottered,

the trail will lead directly back to you.

- [Z] What do you want, Domina?

- Euphoron, 50 kilos.

My laboratory tomorrow.

- 50 kilos?

You'll be dead by sundown.

- I like to plan ahead.

Do you mind?

- And just what do I get from all of this?

- Well, a couple of things.

For starters, you might like
to train your nearest cyborg

on the op that's about
to leave this location.

- Where are you?

- [Domina] We got a deal?

- Deal.

(ominous music)

(dials phone)

(phone rings)

- What?

I'm eating.

- It's Elaine.

Track me.

I'm near the Inferno and I have
a very unpleasant boyfriend.

- God, you know, you
and your man problems.

- Felix, if you don't move your ass,

I'm gonna end up on a slab.

- Cool, Elaine, I'm here.

(beeps)

I got you, babe.

I'll be there in exactly 85 seconds.

- That would be nice.

(phone clatters)

Come on, you juicer slime
bags, take your pick.

(screams)

- Cut her some slack.

- Let's get outta here.

Unless you've got some
big artillery on you,

this thing's too heavy a hitter.

- Me?

(cracks)

Whoa.

- See what I mean?

- (Laughs) Got you.

Perhaps another time.

- I hate it when men save me.

- Oh, great.

Well, excuse me for living.

- Come on, Donny, you know what I mean.

It's humiliating.

I am a fully accredited
federations operative.

I passed tests.

- Look, Elaine, we all
need help once in a while.

- Even Riker?

- Riker.

Riker's different.

- Yeah, well, as of tonight
I'm just real glad I know an op

with a phone implant in his ear.

- (Laughs) Yeah, it's real convenient.

And if I don't pay my
bill, what can they do?

Cut off my ear?

(laughs)

(slow music)

- Excuse me, Domina.

- What is it, Hydro?

- I thought you should know,

the female operative has escaped.

- What?

- One of Matt Riker's
associates came to her aid.

- And the cyborg?

- It is still at large.

- Good.

Then my deal with Z still stands.

It's not my fault

if his creations aren't
as well-programmed as you.

- Thank you, Domina.

- I often thought I should have stayed

with the Delta Sixes, Hydro.

You were all so
dependable, so trustworthy,

so impervious to rust.

- Thank you, Domina.

- Now you're the last one left.

All the others turned to scrap.

Z, Z had to be greedy.

He always wanted more.

Well, he's about to find out

that it was more than
he could ever handle.

- I've tracked and logged four murders

in the last 85 minutes.

All in the same quadrant,
kill methods identical,

and traces of euphoron.

Looks like one of these
creepoids is out on the job.

- Cyborgs.

Paul would die if he knew.

He never intended the Delta Sevens to kill

- Someone did.

Alright, Felix, let's
see your bag of tricks.

- Something I got you here for these...

- Cyborgs.

- Right, cyborgs, cyborgs.

Now here's what I got for you.

Tracking device.

You've used them before.

I just saved Elaine's ass with one.

Darla.

These trackers are built
on a standard parlex board.

You think you can adjust them

to pick up the mutants'
responder frequency?

- No problem.

- Riker, you and I will
take the tracker's program

to the jelly heads.

Now this baby's zeroed in

on the molecular structure of euphoron.

It'll lead you to any
quantity over 10 kilos.

- Terrific.

Got any other gizmos of interest?

- You bet.

This is one of my favorites.

Watch.

This is a time delay explosive device.

You can set it from anywhere
from three minutes on down,

and it has a robot device.

- Meaning what?

- Meaning that you can
get it to go into places

that you can't get into.

Plus, if it gets really tight,

this little sucker goes into overdrive.

(whirs)

See what I mean?

According to all our data,

we have two of these
thingies left out there.

I've coded the remaining
mutants Alpha and Beta.

Alpha was the one who attacked Elaine.

I want him.

- I'll take Beta.

- You got it.

Uptown, in Spanish Harlem.

I'll fly to Alpha.

He's east.

Somewhere on the lower east side.

- I'm gone.

You guys check in with me when
you nail these two things.

- What about me, and Paul?

- You stay here until we get back.

Once we take out these two,

there's no reason for Inteltrax
to detain your brother.

- Okay.

You know what you're doing.

I hope.

- What's that supposed to mean?

- Look, I know you're a professional,

I know you kill for money,

but do you really know
what you're dealing with?

These things aren't euphoron
dealers or sex maniacs.

They're super-human machines.

Ten times stronger than any man.

- So?

- So?

So you can't even remember
that they're called cyborgs.

- Cyborgs.

- And you.

You think brute force
will solve everything.

Well, sometimes it can't.

- Your brother sent you here for a reason.

You don't trust me, trust him.

Felix.

- Yeah.

- Let's go.

- Time to rock and roll.

(whirring)

(calm music)

(knocks)

- So am I invited in?

- I thought we were mutant hunting.

- You're gonna toss that thing at me?

- You're a lowlife mercenary scum.

I should.

- What's your beef?

- Three days dodging lasers in Jetta,

two nights drinking champagne
at the Sri Lanka Hilton,

and then I don't see you
again until six months later,

when I'm acting like Annie Available

in front of the whole damn public?

You tell me.

- Life as an op.

- And I suppose a
mercenary's got it better.

- What do you think?

- I think I want to...

- Yeah?

- Well, I think I want to.

- Yeah?

- I don't have any champagne.

- I do.

(bottle clanks)

(kissing)

- We have crazed mutant cyborgs out there.

- It's almost dawn.

You saw the dark glasses.

They can't take the light.

Something about incompatibility

of organic and synthetic parts.

- That's fascinating.

- We have until tomorrow night.

But if you want, you know,
I could be out of here

before you know it.

- No need to.

(kissing)

(sirens)

(kissing)

- Amber Dawn?

Amber Dawn?

Amber Dawn, get in here.

It's two in the morning.

(sirens)

(laughs)

(kissing)

(laughs)

(beeps)

(screams)

- Sure look ugly.

Real ugly.

Hey cyborg.

(dramatic music)

Don't get me steamed, cyborg.

(calm music)

You two really ought to be getting home.

No telling what you're
gonna see out on the streets

this time of night.

(ominous music)

(screams)

- Well?

- I'm sorry, Domina.

There's been no delivery from
Z, Inteltrax, or anyone else.

- But there's barely
enough euphoron for...

We have one night left,

and I'm gonna make it
the night that Z regrets

for the rest of his life.

If he lives that long.

(slow breathing)

(beeps)

(clattering)

- Euphoron, euphoron, where are you?

(ominous music)

(beeps)

(beeps)

- I would strongly encourage
you to come with me, Mr. Riker.

With no discussion as towards
your alternative choices.

- You've got the gun.

(squelching)

- Mr. Riker.

I've just finished implanting
a micro explosive device

at the base of your skull.

It can be set to function
on any time-based code

that I might choose.

- You telling me I'm a walking time bomb?

- I don't think you're
gonna be walking anywhere

for a while, Mr. Riker.

Not at least until you
answer some questions.

- The hell would you wanna know from me?

- Paul and Darla Haynes.

You know them?

- Yeah, so what?

- Are you aware that
their scientific knowledge

is being used by a man called Z

and a company called
Inteltrax to create a race

of super-human work units.

Units that can be programmed
to kill, to fight a war

that would be impossible to
lose due to their strength

and programmed intelligence.

- What the hell does that have to do

with putting a bomb in my head?

- It's very simple.

I know where Haynes is.

Z has him.

If I can get his sister,
I'll have a bargaining tool.

Haynes' sister for all
the euphoron in Z's lab.

I need it.

I need it more than he does.

- Sounds to me like you
have a bad pleasure jones.

- Quite the opposite.

I've created something extraordinary.

Z thought that he'd found
the way to use euphoron

to break through to the
next level of strength

and intelligence, but all he did

was create sickness and plague.

He had the answer right in
front of him all the time.

He didn't even see it.

- How do I get this bomb out of my head?

- Tell me where she is.

- Okay, deactivate me first.

- You'll tell me where she is?

- You bet.

Got nothing to lose, you can see that.

- Alright.

- That it?

- Yeah.

- You sure?

- Promise.

- You really mean it?

- Yes, I really mean it.

- Okay, guess I'll just have to trust you.

(clinks)

(ominous music)

(electronic noises)

- It's the horde alright.

But where are they sending it?

- Hey.

(snaps)

Get him.

- He's on something and I'm getting it.

- Get his euphoron.

Give it up.

(dramatic music)

(ominous music)

(water running)

(squeaking)

(dramatic music)

(cracks)

(ominous music)

(ripping)

(gasps)

- Please, Doctor, don't be frightened.

- But you tried to kill me.

- I can't harm you now.

The contamination has eaten through

(mumbles) time phase action circuit.

Our damage promo system
demands that we kill

every six hours.

I will be homicidally
inactive until 6:17 a.m.

Please, Doctor.

- What do you want?

- Your brother created us.

You know our circuitry.

I am in great pain.

You can neutralize my killer impulse.

You must help me.

You must return to the lab.

(screams)

- Put me down!

Let me go!

Put me down, let me go!

(electrical sounds)

- Come here, come here.

Throw this guy.

Get him, quick.

Get his euphoron.

(dramatic music)

I'll show you how it's done.

(high pitched squeaking)

- You okay?

- Yeah, sure.

Hey, did you nail the other one?

- Yeah, why?

- Cause I got another
jelly head on my screen.

(beeps)

Hey Riker, it's at your crib, man.

- It's reassembled.

Darla.

- Don't worry, no sweat, I pinned him.

He's heading east.

- Let's go.

- It's very simple.

You know too much.

I could kill you now and be done with it.

Your sister presents no challenge.

She'll be found, eliminated.

- You've forgotten one thing,

you cold-blooded son of a bitch.

Matt Riker.

- No, I haven't forgotten him.

In fact, I'd enjoy the sight

of my mutants tearing him to shreds.

Paul, you're a brilliant engineer.

Your death would be such a waste.

You join me in my enterprise--

- Go to hell.

- Please, allow me to outline my proposal.

It was discovered that
a variant of euphoron

turned normally docile
cyborgs into killers.

How does one turn this to profit?

Simple.

I sell the euphoron compound
to terrorists, dictators,

whomever would mutate
a core of worker droids

into an invincible army.

- You're insane.

No one would dare.

- (Laughs) The orders are coming
in from all over the world.

Come.

I think you'll find this interesting.

(ominous music)

As you can see,

I've created a totally
artificial environment.

I spent the last six months

buying up all the euphoron
the streets had to offer.

My secret chemical compound has been added

and then packed for export.

The shipment below is for the
Middle Eastern oil fields,

where a client wishes to wreak havoc,

mutated derrick workers.

To have a balance of world
powers is a delicate matter,

wouldn't you agree?

If you could ready the Delta
Sevens for mass production,

prospects are unlimited.

(beeps)

- Paul!

- Paul no esta aqui.

- Put her down.

- I mean you no harm.

I only want Doctor Haynes to help me.

- Well, what's the problem?

- I am in pain.

I can feel.

(beeps)

(ominous music)

(buzzing)

(loud explosion)

- It's Elaine.

That must be where the
euphoron is, on the other side.

How the hell are we ever
gonna get over there

without being seen?

- This way.

(beeps)

This leads to a tunnel under the tracks.

(chiming music)

- Domina, Inteltrax, they blew it up.

- The entire complex?

- Well, not exactly.

- Then it hasn't been blown up, has it,

you sorry collection
of worthless filaments?

How much euphoron is left?

- Perhaps six ounces.

- Bring it to me.

And prepare the flyer.

I want to be on the Inteltrax
route in half an hour.

I'll unleash the Delta Eight on Z

and then we'll see whose combat units

are the most expensive
purchases on this planet.

(dramatic music)

(explosion)

(dramatic music)

(explosion)

(fire extinguishers hissing)

(heart beating)

(ominous music)

(groaning)

- You are my ultimate creation.

The Delta Sevens will
fall like matchsticks

faced with your power.

(tears)

(groaning)

Go, go to Z.

Show him what I've made.

Hydro, get him into an Inteltrax uniform.

(explosion)

- Paul!

- Let them go.

- I can help you end the pain.

- He's lying, the mutation's gone too far.

- He can't help you.

Nobody can.

- Is this true?

- I have others like you.

I've helped them.

- Listen to me.

Z made you like this.

He made you kill.

(chokes)

- Riker, I knew you'd show up.

Darla, you alright?

- Yeah.

(whirs)

(dramatic music)

- Delta Eight.

Mutated beyond recognition.

(growls)

We haven't got a chance.

- Then we'll go down fighting.

- What?

- Party time, Felix.

Party time.

(growls)

(whirs)

- God, they're coming outta the ceiling.

(squelches)

(groans)

- Watch out.

His hand, don't let him use his hand.

(electronic whirring)

(laser shooting)

(laser shooting)

- Thanks.

Ever thought about mercenary work?

- Yeah, she'd be great at it.

(laughs)

(laser shooting)

(clatters)

- No.

No, let's get out of here.

I'm not gonna take a bad
guy out when he's down.

The hell I'm not.

(laser shooting)

(flames crackling)

(groans)

(birds chirping)

- Tawney Lynn.

Tawney Lynn, you get up here right now,

your breakfast is ready.

(dramatic music)

(laughs)