Sin City Recut and Extended Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Sin City Recut and Extended script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Frank Miller movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Sin City Recut and Extended. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Sin City Recut and Extended Script





(man) She shivers in the wind

like the last leaf on a dying tree.



I let her hear my footsteps.



She only goes stiff for a moment.



Care for a smoke?




I'll take one.



Are you as bored by that crowd as I am?



I didn't come here for the party.

I came here for you.



I've watched you for days.



You're everything a man could ever want.



It's not just your face,



your figure, or your voice.



It's your eyes.



All the things I see in your eyes.



What is it you see in my eyes?



I see a crazy calm.



You're sick of running.



You're ready to face what you have to face.



But you don't want to face it alone.






I don't want to face it alone.



The wind rises electric.



She's soft and warm

and almost weightless.



Her perfume a sweet promise

that brings tears to my eyes.



I tell her that everything will be all right.



That I'll save her from whatever

she's scared of and take her far. Far away.



I tell her I love her.



(gunshot through silencer)



The silencer

makes a whisper of the gunshot.



I hold her close until she's gone.



I'll never know

what she was running from.



I'll cash her check in the morning.



(girl) Yes.



Oh, Mom, don't go on like that.



It's not the city. I could've gotten

in a traffic accident anywhere.



Yeah, just a fracture.

The doctor said it's a clean break.



It should be right as rain in no time.









(man) Turn the right corner in Sin City



and you can find anything.






Care for a smoke?



Love you, too, Mom.



(man) The night is hot as hell.



It's a lousy room

in a lousy part of a lousy town.



I'm staring at a goddess.



She's telling me she wants me.



I'm not gonna waste one more second

wondering how I've gotten so lucky.



I want you.



She smells like angels ought to smell.



The perfect woman.



The goddess.



I need you.






She says her name is Goldie.



Three hours later and my head

is feeling several sizes too big.



And that cold thing

happens to my stomach.



And I realize Goldie's dead.

Not a mark on her.



You'd have to check her pulse

or notice those perfect breasts of hers



aren't moving like they would

if she was breathing.



She was murdered

and I was right here when it happened.



Lying next to her.

Stone drunk. Just like she was.



Damn it. Goldie. Who were you

and who wanted you dead?



Who were you

besides an angel of mercy.



Giving a two-time loser like me

the night of his life?



It sure as hell wasn't my looks.



So why the sleazy saloon?



Why the kindness. Goldie?



(sirens blaring)



The cops - they're telling me too much.



Showing up before anybody

but me and the killer



could know there's been a murder.



Somebody paid good money

for this frame.



No reason at all to play it quiet.



No reason to play it any way but my way.



Whoever killed you is gonna pay. Goldie.



(man banging on door)

Open up, police!



I'll be right out.






(sirens blaring)



I don't know why you died. Goldie.



I don't know why and I don't know how

I never even met you before tonight.



But you were a friend and more

when I needed one.



And when I find out who did it.



It won't be quick and quiet

like it was with you.



It'll be loud and nasty - my kind of kill.



And when his eyes go dead.

The hell I send him to



will seem like heaven

after what I've done to him.



I love you. Goldie.



(sirens blaring)



(helicopter overhead)



(sirens continue blaring)



(latch squeaks)






Now, don't worry, Lucille.

I was just grazed.



- You got any beers around this place?

- No way am I giving you any alcohol.



Besides, it's not what

you came here for anyway, is it?






Go ahead.

You're worse without 'em.




You're the best.



Lucille's my parole officer.



She's a dyke. But God knows why.



With that body of hers

she could have any man she wants.



The pills come from a girlfriend

who's a shrink.



She tried to analyze me once

but she got too scared.



Haven't seen you like this in a while.



- Got in a fight with some cops.

- Didn't happen to kill any of them, did ya?



Not that I know of. But they know they've

been in a fight, that's for damn sure.



How the hell do you suppose

I'm gonna square this with the board?



There ain't no squaring it.

Not this time.



This isn't some barroom brawl.



Or some creep with a gas can

trying to torch someone.



Hey, hey.

This is big.



- Settle down, Marv. Take another pill.

- Hey, there ain't no settlin' down!



This is blood for blood, and by the gallons.



This is the old days and the bad days,

the all-or-nothing days.



They're back.

There's no choices left.



And I'm ready for war.



Prison was hell for you, Marv.

It's gonna be life this time.






Hell's waking up every goddamn day

and not even knowing why you're here.



But I'm out now.



It took somebody who was kind to me

getting killed to do it.



But I'm out.

I know exactly what I gotta do.



Now for Gladys.

Sweet Gladys.



But I'll have to sneak past Mom.



And her ears have gotten

a whole lot better since she went blind.



Mom still hasn't changed

a thing in this room.



Every week she dusts it all off. So it looks

like it was only yesterday that I moved out.



Every time I come visit.

She has me sleepin' here.



And the old smells make me

cry like they do right now.



I knew Gladys would be safe here.



I call her Gladys

after one of the sisters from school.



She's almost lived up to the name.



For a while we just get the feel

of each other back. Good as ever.



I tell her about Goldie.

And what we have to do.









Is that you, baby?



Yes, Mom.

I'm sorry I woke you up.



I couldn't sleep for the worry.

There were men here lookin' for you.



They weren't police.



It was about my job.



I got a new job.

It's night work.



What did you do to your face?



I cut myself shaving.



You're getting confused

again, aren't you?



Mom, I feel better

than I have in years.






So you were scared.

Weren't you. Goldie?



Somebody wanted you dead

and you knew it.



So you hit the saloons.

The bad places.



Iooking for the biggest.

Meanest lug around and finding me.



Well. I'm gonna find

that son of a bitch that killed you.



And I'm gonna give him the hard goodbye.



Walk down

the right back alley in Sin City...



- Leave your hands off Nancy.

- ... and you could find anything.



That coat looks like Baghdad.



So does your face.

Take off!






He's new here, Marv.

He didn't know.



Kadie's is my kind of joint.



Nancy's just getting started with her gig.

But already the crowd's breathing hard.



Plenty of nights I've drooled over Nancy.



Shoulder to shoulder

with all the other losers like me.



But that's not what I'm lookin' for tonight.



I'm looking for something small and hairy.



Take it easy, Weevil.

I'm here to do you a favor.



It's money in your pocket.



Spread the word. Tell 'em I've been

hitting the joints, drunk off my butt,



shooting my mouth off, cryin' over

some hot babe named Goldie.



What'll it be, Marv?



A shot and a brew, Shellie,

and keep 'em comin'.



Sure, honey.

You take it slow, now.



(man) Most people think Marv is crazy.



He just had the rotten luck

of being born in the wrong century.



He'd be right at home

on some ancient battlefield.



Swinging an ax into somebody's face.



Or in a Roman arena

taking a sword to other gladiators like him.



They'd have tossed him girls

like Nancy back then.



Show's over, dickwad.

Drink up.



Now, that's one fine-Iooking coat

you're wearing there.



Your killin' days are over,

you over-the-hill, do-gooder son of a bitch.



I love hit men. No matter what

you do to them. You don't feel bad.



- Take it off.

- What?



A fine coat like that,

and you're bleeding all over it.



All right, it's all yours.

Oh, God!



It wasn't you losers who killed Goldie.



The guy who did that,

he knew what he was doing.



So tell me, man.

Who sent you?



I don't hear you giving me any names.



So I guess when I shot you in the belly

I aimed a little too high.






You keep holding out on me like this,

and I'm gonna have to get really nasty.



It was Telly...

Telly Stern passed me the order.



He runs the tables over

to the Triple Ace Club.



Thanks again.






Then the damnedest thing happens.



For a second. I smell the angel smell

that belonged to my Goldie.



Just need my medicine. Is all.






You're gonna pay for what you did to me.



Feel like talking, Louie?



How many got paid off

for the frame, Louie? Huh?



How many for the kill?



It was Connelly.

He set me up.



He'll never talk.



I don't know about you,

but I'm havin' a ball.



Connelly talks.

They all talk.



(man) And what have been

your sins, my son?



(Marv) Well, Padre,

I don't want to keep you up all night,



so I'll just fill you in on the latest batch.



These here hands of mine,

they got blood all over 'em.



You're speaking figuratively.



When I need to find something out,

I just go out and look for somebody



that knows more than me,

and I go and I ask them.



Sometimes, I ask pretty hard.



By way of a "for instance",

I killed three men tonight.



Tortured 'em first.



You might say I been

working my way up the food chain.



First two were minnows -

small-time messengers.



But it was Connelly, the money man,

who fingered you, Padre.



(whispering) Dear Lord, man,

this is a house of God.



Just give me a damn name.



- Roark.

- You really are pushing your luck, Padre,



feeding me garbage like that.



It can't be that big.



There's a farm

at North Cross and Lennox.



It's all there.

Find out for yourself.



And while you're at it,



ask yourself if that corpse of a slut

is worth dying for.



Worth dying for.



Worth killing for.



Worth going to hell for.






His keys say the padre drove a Mercedes.



Or at least that's what they're

passing off as a Mercedes these days.



Modern cars - 

they all look like electric shavers.



(tires screeching)









It couldn't be Goldie.



It's my own fault. And nobody else's.

That I got confused.



I've been having so much fun

I forgot to take my medicine.



That wasn't Goldie back there.



Goldie's dead.



And that's the whole reason

that I've been doing what I've been doing.



When you got a condition.

It's bad to forget your medicine.



The cold thing. It creeps into my gut

and tells me one more time it won't let go.



This is a bad place. This farm.



People have died here...






... the wrong way.



I don't want to fight, pooch.



I got no gripe with you.



Easy, boy.



(dog whimpers)



No way I was gonna use

my gun on you. Buddy.



It's whoever owns you I'm curious about.



Because there's blood on your breath.

And I think I know what kind.



So I sniff around to see what's buried.



Here we go.



It's impossible.

Nobody can sneak up on me.



I go blind.

Not a sound. Nobody's that quiet.



Nobody except the one who snuck

into that hotel room two nights ago.



It was you, you bastard.

You killed her.



You killed Goldie.



It was...



I blew it. Goldie.



I found your killer.

But he was better than me.



Too quiet. Too quick.



A killer born.



Why didn't he finish the job?



He keeps the heads.

He eats the rest.



- Lucille?

- It's not just that wolf of his.



The wolf just gets scraps.






It's him.



He eats people.



- He cooks them like they were steaks.

- Let's get you warm.



Just like they were steaks.



Now he's got both of us.



It's all right.

Take a nice, slow breath.



Just look at the heads on the wall.



The heads on the wall.



The heads on the wall.



Son of a bitch!

He kept smiling that damned smile.



He made me watch him

suck the meat off my fingers.



- He made me watch!

- Oh, Jesus.



He made me watch!



Christ, I could use a cigarette.




Sometimes all they gotta do is let it out.



And a few buckets later.

There's no way you'd know.



You've brought us

some big trouble this time, Marv.



Whoever's behind this whole thing has

his connections right in the department.



Any leads?



One guy I talked to told me

it was Roark running the show.



Whoever it is, he knew I was checking out

that hooker almost before I did.



- What hooker?

- The one you've been obsessing over.



The dead one.






I didn't know she was a hooker.



Doesn't make any difference

about anything.



- But I didn't know that.

- She was high-class stuff.



She must have shown you quite a time.




There's a car coming.



(man) Kevin!



All I've got is a face... and a name.



I'll see you later, Kevin.



Let's go.



They're done checking the house.



They're coming this way.




I'll show them.



You're not gonna get

either of us killed, Marv.



No, don't shoot!




Listen to me.

I'm his parole officer.



He's unconscious and unarmed,



so there's no need to kill him.



Captain, the target - there's no sign of him.



Here's a sign!



That there is one

damn fine coat you're wearing.



I keep coming back to that cop I just killed

and what he told me.



I was pretty steamed about

what he'd done to Lucille.



So I took my time

with that son of a bitch.



It wasn't till I showed him

all those pieces of himself that he said it.



Just a name - 

Patrick Henry Roark. Man of the cloth.



Could've become president.

But he chose to serve God.



Along the way. He happened to become

the most powerful man in the state.



He's brought down mayors and governors

like they were nothing.



He even made his rotten brother

a US senator without breaking a sweat.



And here he's gonna get killed

in the name of a dead hooker.



I'm getting used to the idea.

More and more. I'm liking the sound of it.



Then it hits me like a kick in the nuts.



What if I'm wrong?



I've got a condition.



I get confused sometimes.



And with Lucille dead.

I can't get my medicine.



What if I've imagined all of this?



What if I've finally turned into what

they've always said I was gonna turn into?



A maniac.



A psycho killer.



Can't kill a man

without knowing for sure you ought to.



I've gotta know for sure.



The merchandise is on display

by the time I make my way to Old Town.



For an hour or so.

I asked around about Goldie.



I don't get any answers.

But I know I'm bound to.



Lucille said Goldie was a hooker.



And if she was. She has roots here - 



friends. Maybe even family.



You can't be Goldie.

Goldie's dead.







Yeah, sure, right.



I haven't eaten anything

or taken my medicine for days now.



No wonder I'm seeing things.






(Marv laughing)



He's crazy.



Hit him again, Wendy.




Wait a minute.

Why did she call you Wendy?



Because that's my name, you ape.



Goldie was my sister.

My twin sister.



I guess she was the nice one.



Goldie and the other six - where are they?



What did you do to them?



You crazy goddamn broad.



Just take a look at this mug.



Would any of you dames let me get

close enough to you to kill you?



None of you would, but Goldie.



And she only did because

she thought I could protect her.



And I'll bet those cops didn't do a damn

thing about those other girls, did they?



But as soon as they had me for a fall guy,

they showed up, guns blazing.



But they didn't get me, and I've been killing

my way to the truth ever since.



So, go ahead, doll.



Shoot me now,

or get the hell out of my way.



Aw, nuts.



OK, I'm glad we got all that sorted out.



- What the hell?

- I tied those knots! That's my specialty!



You sat there and took it,



when you could've taken my gun away

from me any time you wanted to.



Well, sure. I thought I might be able

to talk some sense into you.



And I probably would have had

to paste you one,



and I don't hurt girls.



I need a pair of handcuffs.



What style do you want?

I got a collection.



Just give him the ones

you got with you, Gail.



It was a farm boy named Kevin

who killed Goldie,



but it was Cardinal Roark

who was behind it, and I don't know why.



I know that sounds crazy.



No, it doesn't.

Goldie worked the clergy.



Just like that. A whopper of a puzzle piece

falls smack in my lap.



I'm too dumb to put

the whole picture together yet.



But she fires up two cigarettes and hands

me one. And I taste her lipstick on it.



And suddenly. My heart's pounding

so loud I can't hear anything else.



I want to reach over and touch her

and taste Goldie's sweat one more time.



But she isn't Goldie.



Yeah. Yeah.

This'll do.



I'm also gonna be needing a dozen

two-foot lengths of this rubber tubing...



and a spool of razor wire...



and a pair of those special gloves

that'll let me handle the wire.



(man) Beefing up

the old home security, huh?



(Marv) You can bet your ass.



(Wendy) She was my sister,

so I'm in this one to the end.



But why are you willing to go up against

Roark for someone you barely knew?



She was nice to me, gave me

something I didn't even know existed.



I wasn't never even able to buy a woman.



You know, the way I look.



I take my mind off her

and I crawl back inside myself.



It's almost killing time.

And I'd better get sharp.



I check the list - 

rubber tubing. Gas. Saw.



Gloves. Cuffs. Razor wire. Hatchet.



Gladys and my mitts.



- We're close enough. Pull over.

- Yes, Marv.



Keep the engine runnin'.



If I'm not back in    minutes, you get

the hell outta here and don't look back.



Kill him for me, Marv.



Kill him good.



I won't let you down, Goldie.



Heading downstairs to the kitchen.



Getting himself a midnight snack.

And I can guess what kind.



Come on, you son of a bitch.



Damn. He's slick.






Is that the best you can do, creep?



That's right.

Get personal. Get close. I can take it.



I got you, you little bastard.

Let's see you hop around now.



I try to slow my heart down

and breathe the fire out of my lungs.



My muscles make me

a thousand promises of pain to come.



Let me do it, Marv.

She was my sister. Let me finish him.



You wasn't supposed

to come down here, Wendy.



Oh, but I want to...



I'm sorry. Kid.

But I haven't even started with this creep.



And I don't want you watching the rest.

It'll give you nightmares.



God, I gotta tell you, I'm good and bushed.



And it's not that fight of ours

that did me in, either.



It's all that sawing and tying.



It's not as easy as it looks.



Could have been a real mess around here

if I didn't have that tubing for tourniquets.



I gotta admit,

there was a spurt or two,



to get the scent in the air,

to get that friend of yours to come running.



Well, what do you know?



Look who's here.



Here he comes.



(dog growling)



That's a good dog.



He doesn't scream.

Not even when the mutt's had its fill



and Kevin's guts

are lying all over the place.



Somehow the bastard is still alive.

Still staring at me.



Not even when I grab the saw

and finish the job.



He never screams.



I put in a call to Kadie's

and ask Nancy to get her clothes on



and meet me at her place.

She says. "Yes." like always.



Hey, Nancy, you got any beers?



Sure, Marv.

Who's the babe?



There isn't much of anything

Nancy wouldn't do for me.



Not since a year back

when a frat boy roughed her up



and I straightened him out but good.



It really gets my goat

when guys rough up dames.



So, what do you want me to do with her?



Well, your best bet is

drive her all the way up to Sacred Oaks.



What about you?

Are you leaving town?



Hell, no.

I like it here.






I hot-wire a parked cab

and stay under the speed limit



so as not to get any attention.



My head starts to clear.

Things start to make sense.



I owe you. Goldie.



I owe you one and I'm gonna pay up.



So. If going after Roark

means dying. Win or lose - 



hell. I'll die laughing

if I know I've done this one thing right.



Quiet as a grave out here.

No sign of target.



(man on radio)

All right. Keep a lookout.



- Kevin?

- What's left of him, anyways.



The dog ate the rest.



Oh, my God.

You monster.



You demon.



Don't scream or I'll plug you.



He had the voice of an angel,

yet he spoke only to me.



And he's dead now

because of one stupid whore.



It's not a real good idea for you to talk

about Goldie that way while I'm around.



When he came to me...



he was a tormented boy.



Tormented by guilt.



I tried to counsel him.



But the eating - it filled him with white light.



Tearful, he swore to me

that he felt the touch of God Almighty.



What the hell do you know?



I know it's pretty damn weird to eat people.



He didn't just eat their bodies,



he ate their souls.



And I joined in.



They were all whores.



Nobody cared for them.

Nobody missed them.



And then your Goldie

almost ruined everything.



She stayed in public places.



And then with you.



You were so convenient.



You'd broke a man's jaw that very night.



Who would believe a thug like you?



Kevin killed her.



I ordered the police in for you.

But you wouldn't be caught.



You wouldn't stop.



And now he's dead and you're here to...



eliminate me.



Will that give you satisfaction, my son?



Killing a helpless old fart?



The killing, no.



No satisfaction.



Everything up until the killing will be a gas.






we're going home.



You can scream now if you want to.



It's beautiful. Goldie.

It's just like I promised. Only better.



And when his eyes go dead.



The hell I sent him to must seem like

heaven after what I've done to him.



- (man) Freeze!

- (man # ) Oh, my God!






(sighs) Jerks.



They should've shot me in the head.

And enough times to make sure.



It's so stupid.



Everybody knows what's coming.

But they go through the motions anyway.



What a waste of time.



Months fall off the calendar

while I breathe and eat through tubes.



Night after night. I wait for somebody

to come and finish me off.



After a while.

I realize it's not gonna be so easy as that.



I'm on my feet for about ten minutes



before the cops kick them out

from under me.



They don't ask me any questions.



They just keep knocking the crap out of

me and waving a confession in my face.



And I keep spitting blood all over it



and laughing at how many fresh copies

they come up with.



Then along comes this worm assistant

district attorney who turns the recorder off



and says if I don't sign their confession.

They'll kill my mom.



I break his arm in three places

and I sign it.



From then on.

It's the circus everybody wants it to be.



They nail me for the works - 

not just the people I did kill.



But even Lucille and the girls

that Roark and Kevin ate.



And even Goldie.



The judge is all fire and brimstone

when she hands down the sentence.



Midnight and my death

are only a few hours away.



When I get my first surprise in    months.



My only visitor.



I'm ready for anything but that scent.



I got 'em for you good,

didn't I, Goldie?



Oh, I'm sorry, Wendy.



I... I got confused again.



Just seeing you like this.



You can call me Goldie.



She smells like angels ought to smell.



The perfect woman.



The goddess.






She says her name is Goldie.



They fix me a pretty decent steak

for my last meal.



They even throw in a brew.

It's the first I've had since back at Nancy's.



Then they shave my head and fix me

with a rubber diaper and get to it.



And it's about damned time.

If you ask me.



"Yea, though I walk through the valley

of the shadow of death..."



Would you get a move on?

I haven't got all night.



You heard the man.

Hit it.






Is that the best you can do, you pansies?



He's gone.



(knock on door)



Forget it, man.



You can bang on that door

all night if you want to.



There is no way in hell

I'm letting you in.



I can't believe

you're doing this to me, Shellie.



Everything we've shared -

it has to mean something to you.



Ha. It meant plenty.



Plenty of lost pay on account of how

nobody wants to flirt with a waitress



whose face is all purple

and swollen up with bruises.



I know you're angry, baby.



And I forgive you for that

without you even asking me to.



There's a difference

between getting honked off



at a guy who's generally not so bad,



and finding out that you've been

sweet-talked by a total jerk loser



who skips out on a wife

that he doesn't even tell you about



every time he gets drunk,

which is way too often!



Especially the kind of total jerk loser



who has to beat up on a girl

to make himself feel like a man.



That hurt, Shellie.



It's one thing for you to play hard to get,

but don't go trying to cut my nuts off.



I am impossible to get.



Do yourself a favor, Jackie Boy,

and get help, like a shrink.



Get help and get lost.



Just open the door.



Go ahead and open the door, Shellie.

I'll take care of this.



Just open the door and you'll see

how wrong you've been about me.



Oblige him, Shellie.

I'm ready for him.



No! If he knew that you were here with me,

you don't know how bad this could get!



This clown's got a big, mean drunk on.



And he's got four friends

out there in the hall,



breathing hard

and just as drunk as he is.



Hey, I could swear I heard somebody

in there with you just now.



Somebody! Jackie Boy,

it's a regular African love fest in here!



- I'm no racist.

- I mean, I got me all five starters,



and half the bench of

the Basin City Blues keeping me company.



You feel like taking them on?



You are teasing me, baby.



Some of my best friends...



But you're really pushing my buttons.



And the whole time

you've been doing me like this,



I've been too polite to point out

that at any time I want to,



I could kick this damn door to splinters.



OK, baby, you know what I can do.



- You know what I can do. One, two...

- All right, then!



All right.

All right, all right!



Troops, make yourself at home.



You brought your whole pack with you?



None of these bozos got lives,

they gotta hang out with you?



You're gonna love this, baby.



You're gonna call up some of your friends

who work the saloon.



With you and the bunch of us,

we're gonna hit every joint in town,



and it's gonna be great.



I ain't calling up nobody.



That's a man's shirt,

and I'm sure as hell it ain't one of mine.



You got somebody's love stink all over you.



You've been with another man

and you've been with him tonight.



- Who is he?

- He's Superman.



He flew out the window

just as soon as he heard you were coming,



'cause you scared him so bad.






(Jackie Boy) You think

I have no feelings at all.



(Shellie) If you're gonna slug me,



just go ahead and get it over with,

you sick bastard.



(Jackie Boy) There you go,

lying about me again,



right in front of my friends.



I have never hit a woman in my life.






That's showing her, man.



You goddamn bastard.

You goddamn coward.



- Baby, we're all here to have a good time.

- Yeah.



- I gotta take a leak.

- Oh!



Wish you'd dropped by earlier, Jackie Boy.



Then you could've met my boyfriend.



Could've seen what a real man looks like.



There you go, after my nuts again.



But I forgive you.



I'm a generous guy.



He is generous.

But that temper of his...



You never should have

picked on him like you did.



My temper you don't have to worry about.



Shut up and keep your hands to yourself

or I'll cut your little pecker off.




I've been told.



You don't wanna be hittin' the streets

dressed like that, honey.



It's a jungle out there.



Besides, you got a couple

of phone calls you ought to be makin'.



Hey, baby,

I don't hear you making those calls.



Answer me!



Oh, I don't need this grief.



Hi. I'm Shellie's new boyfriend

and I'm out of my mind.



You ever so much as talk to Shellie again,

you even think her name,



and I'll cut you in ways

that'll make you useless to a woman.



You're making a big mistake, man.

A big mistake.




You already made a big mistake yourself.



You didn't flush.



Troops, get outta here.



No questions, damn it.

No questions.






(helicopter overhead)



(sirens blaring)



Dwight, what in the devil

did you do to him?



I just gave him a taste of his own medicine.



I don't think he'll be bothering you again.



- How's your jaw?

- I've been slapped around worse.



Dwight, he was from a while back,



before you showed up again

with that new face of yours.



And it was only 'cause I felt sorry for him.



And it was only once.



I've done some dumb things.



Seeing as how

I'm one of those dumb things,



I can't give you

too hard a time about that, Shellie.



But this guy, he's a menace.



He might kill somebody if I don't stop him.



I'll call you later.



No, don't go!



Shellie shouts something

I can't quite make out



over the racket of a passing police 'copter.



- Stop!

- It sounds like "stop." but I can't be sure.



It's a chance I shouldn't be taking.

But I can't just go home and forget about it.



And let Jackie Boy and his pals

find their fun.



They're a pack of predators and they're

out for blood tonight - a woman's blood.



Damn it, Dwight.

Damn it.



You fool.



You damned fool.



I cut my Caddy across the park



to pick up Jackie Boy heading

like a bat outta hell up the hill.



I'm speeding.



That's a good way to get yourself noticed.

And if you're a murderer with a new face



who's one fingerprint check away from

the fast track to the gas chamber like I am.



The last thing you want

is to get noticed.



(siren blaring)



I don't have nearly enough cash on me

to bribe this cop. And even if I did.



There's always the outside chance

he's one of the honest ones.



Do I try to talk my way out of this.

Or do I take this cop down and risk it all?



Then Jackie Boy saves me

a great. Big. Steaming pile of trouble.



Watch it, Jack!



(horns blaring)




They're right on our ass!



Not for long.

Not where we're headed.



My gut tightens up.



Jackie Boy's leading us

straight to Old Town.



The cop shuts off his siren.



He knows he's not the law.

Not in Old Town.



The ladies are the law here.

Beautiful and merciless.



If you've got the cash

and you play by the rules.



They'll make all your dreams come true.



But if you cross 'em. You're a corpse.



- The squad car's long gone, man.

- Yeah. I called it. Was I right?



You're always right, Jack.

None of us ever doubted you for a second.



But I heard things about these girls. Things

they've done to guys who got out of line.



Who's outta line?



Hey, baby. Hey, baby.



Hop in, sugar.

We'll get you there.



Aw, sweetheart. I work the day shift

and it's been a long day.



Besides, I don't do group jobs.



Get in the car, baby.

We'll just talk. It'll be nice.



I don't do talk jobs, either.




I've had me one hell of a bad day.



I've been beat up every time I turn around.



But the day I get turned down by a hooker



when I got good,

hard-earned cash to pay her with...






there's only so much a man can take.



Go try the Alamo over on Dillon Street.



That's the Alamo, not the Amigo.



The Amigo's a fag joint.



Are you having a good time humiliating me

like this for no damn reason at all?



That's far enough, Dwight.

We've been on top of these peckerwoods



since they first showed up

with that cop behind them.



Everything's under control.



Enjoy the show.



There's no use arguing with her.



The ladies are their own enforcers.



So, how's the barmaid?

You know, the one that never shuts up?



- Not right now, Gail.

- Ooh.



Wound up a little tight, aren't we?



That's your whole problem, Dwight.

You worry too much.



That, and your lousy taste in women.

These days, anyway.



Damn it, Gail.

Not right now.



Those clowns down the way -

they some of the barmaid's boyfriends?



One of them thinks he is.



He's outta control.



I followed them here to make sure

he didn't hurt any of the girls.



Us helpless little girls.



All kinds of death is about to hit

less than    yards ahead of us.



And still it's hard to take my eyes off her.



Us girls are safe as we can be, Lancelot.



Those boys in that Chrysler

are one mistake away



from seeing what Miho can do.



And she's been aching for some practice.



She guides my glance upwards

to the pixie perched on the roof's edge.



- Deadly little Miho.

- (girl) You're running out of alley, cowboy.



Turn around. Save yourself

and your buddies a ton of grief.



(Jackie Boy) You're a sassy little thing.



You ain't hardly in any kind

of position to be making threats.



The trap is set.

Iocked and ready to spring.



So what? They're scum.

They deserve what's coming.



So why this rotten feeling in my gut

that something is awfully wrong?



They haven't killed anybody I know about.



It got pretty bad at Shellie's place,

but they didn't kill anybody.



And they won't.



Why this rotten feeling?



Something Shellie said.

I can't place it.



OK, OK, OK. I sounded off

a little more than I should have.



- I'm a little on edge.

- Over the edge.



It's not a woman you need.

It's a good night's sleep.



You couldn't handle a woman,

the state you're in.



She's saying you ain't got

what it takes, Jack.



You wanna see it?



You wanna see what I got? Huh?



I've seen all shapes, all sizes.



You seen this one?



Get in the car.



Oh, sugar, you just gone and done

the dumbest thing in your whole life.



Oh, God, no!



This is crazy!



Out of nowhere, for no reason at all!



Go ahead.



Go ahead.

Go ahead.



- He's got the drop on her.

- He's got squat.



He's dead.

He's just too damn dumb to know it.



I got you right where I want you.



This is a career-ending wound, whore.



- And there's gonna be hell to pay.

- Watch your step, Jackie Boy.






This isn't funny.



Don't anyone laugh.

I got friends you can't imagine.



Every one of you is gonna burn.



(Dwight) Hang it up.

She's just playing with you.



- You're only making it worse.

- You shut the hell up.



Don't pull the trigger.

She blocked the barrel. It'll backfire.



I told you to shut up.



I can't see.



What's happening?



I can't see.



I can't hear anything.



For God's sake, Miho, finish him.




Make it quick, will you?



She doesn't quite chop his head off.



She makes a Pez dispenser out of him.



Then it's straight to business - stretching

the corpses out on the alley floor



and going through their pockets.

Divvying up cash when they find it.



I'm fishing around in Jackie Boy's pants.



His wallet is packed.



Mastercard. Discover.

Platinum American Express.



And nearly     bucks worth of twenties



that I'm not too proud

to stuff into my own pockets.



Then I find an atom bomb.



Jackie Boy.



You son of a bitch.



There was a helicopter

that kicked up such a racket.



- I couldn't quite make out what she said.

- (mouthing)



I thought Shellie said "stop."



She said "cop."



Detective Lieutenant Jack Rafferty.



Iron Jack. The papers call him.



A goddamn hero cop.



It's held for years. The shaky truce.



The cops get a slice of the profits and free

entertainment when they throw a party.



The girls get to administer

their own brand of justice.



They get to defend their own turf.

If a cop blunders into the neighborhood



and he's not shopping for what the girls

are selling. They send him packing.



But they send him back alive.



That's the rules.



That's the truce.



The cops stay out.



That keeps the girls free

to keep the pimps and the mob out.



Old Town will be left wide open.



It'll be war.



The streets will run red with blood - 



women's blood.



The cops!

The mob!



Things are gonna go back

to the way they used to be!



The hell they will!

We got guns.



We'll fight the cops and the mob



and anybody else

who tries to move in on us.



- We'll go to war.

- Don't be stupid.



You wouldn't stand a chance.

Get me a car.



Make sure it's a hardtop

with a decent engine.



I'll hide the bodies.



Did you forget that cop car

that trailed them here?



The cops know Rafferty came here.



They'll check the river,

they'll check the sewer.



They'll find him

and come gunning for us.



I'll haul the bodies to the pits.

The cops won't check the pits.



Get that gun out of my face or I'll smack ya.



Who do you think you are, giving orders?



- You got what you wanted out of us.

- Shut up, Gail.



You got what you wanted out of me!



And you were gone,

off playing with that barmaid.



Gone until you brought

this unholy mess on us.



Miho moves to my back.



One word from Gail

and she'll cut me in half.



They'll be watching the roads.

They'll catch you.



It'll be the bad old days all over again.



The pimps, the beatings,

the drugs, the rapes!



They won't be watching the roads. Not yet,

they won't! Get me a damn hardtop!



If I don't make it, you can have your war.



Get that gun out of my face now!









I forgot how quick you are.



My warrior woman.



She almost yanks my head clean off.



Shoving my mouth into hers

so hard it hurts.



An explosion that blasts away

the dull. Gray years



between the now and that one fiery night

when she was mine.



A hardtop with a decent engine.



And make sure it's got a big trunk.



I'll always love you, baby.



Always... and never.



(Dwight) Where'd you find that heap?



Just look at that trunk.

We'll never fit 'em all in.



Gail? Unless there's something else

you want me to do,



you think maybe I could go home?



All this blood and stuff's got me kind of

feeling like maybe I'm gonna hurl.



Sure, Becky, go home.



But don't you talk to anybody,

not even your mom.



They'll never fit in that trunk.



Not like this, they won't.




Dry your hair as soon as you get home!



You'll catch cold if you don't.



(squishing sounds)






Hey, Becky.

Gail said no calls.



I just want to hear my mom's voice.

I won't tell her nothing.



Please, don't say nothing to Gail.



Hey, Mom?



Dizzy dames.



What were they thinking. Sticking me

with a beat-up bucket of bolts like this?



We were barely able to get the trunk

to stay closed as it was.



We packed it so tight.



There wasn't anything we could do

but pile Jackie Boy in right next to me.



Out where anybody who cares to look

will see him.



Go ahead. Take one of his cigarettes.



It'll help.



It's got you smoking there, bud.



You shut the hell up, Jackie Boy.



You're dead.



I'm just imagining this, so shut the hell up.



Well, it tells you something

about your state of mind, don't it?



It's got you hearing things.



It's got your nerves shot.



It's got you smoking.



You know it's true.



Nobody ever really quits.



A smoker's a smoker

when the chips are down.



- And your chips are down.

- I'm fine. You shut the hell up.



Will you look at that?



Ooh, those hookers let you down.



What are you gonna do

when you run outta gas, call AAA?



You sucker for the babes, you.



You ain't even gonna make it to the pits.



You shut the hell up.

I'll make it.



Not unless you keep

your eyes on the road, sugar pie.



- Watch it!

- (horn blaring)



Ah, this is great.



Just like being in a buddy movie.



Shut up!






(siren blaring)



Boy, you're screwed.

You're out. You're finished.



Stick a fork in it. You're swirling

around the bottom of the bowl,



nose-diving down the pipe.



It's over.



You're flushed.



This time, I can't bring myself

to tell him to shut up.



Sure, he's an asshole.



Sure, he's dead.



Sure, I'm just imagining that he's talking.



None of that stops the bastard

from being absolutely right.



I don't have a chance in hell

of outrunning this cop.



Not in this heap.



Pull over!



The only question left

is whether I'm gonna kill him or not.



Tough call.



For all I know,

he's an honest cop, regular guy,



a working stiff with a mortgage,

a wife and a pile of kids.



My hand moves all on its own,



sliding one of my guns to my lap

and thumbing back the hammer.



- I don't know what to do.

- You better stop. You're making him mad.



Whatever you say.



(tires screeching)



Your friend here...

party a little too hard tonight?



I'm the designated driver.



Well, you're driving with a busted tail light.



I'll let you off with a warning.



What next?



The tank goes dry

a quarter mile from the pits.



I shove the T-Bird the rest of the way.



A few minutes' more work

and it'll all be over.



Jackie Boy

will go into the damn tar pits.



I'll catch a train out of Sacred Oaks.

Go home and call it a...






No more questions, Dallas.

Do what I say.



Clear the streets.

We're in lockdown.



We're not selling any tail in Old Town.



Not tonight.



Don't struggle.

You'll only hurt yourself.



Your cause is lost.



We know everything.



Soon the corpse of Detective Rafferty

will be in our possession,



and the truce between your prostitutes

and the police will be shattered.



There'll be arrests.

There'll be deaths.



My employer will seize

what remains of this neighborhood.



You will all be slaves.

Nothing can stop this.



But it is within your power

to save many lives



by facilitating the process of transition,



by negotiating the terms

of the surrender of Old Town.



Son of a bitch!

I know you.



I have suffered your kind before -

the dregs of Sin City.



I serve a new master now,



and soon you and all your wretched kind

will serve him as well.



Now, get dressed and shed a tear

for Dwight McCarthy if you must,



because, by now, he is surely dead.



You don't know him.



My man will find a way.



He always finds a way.



I can't fathom

these Americans always whining



and going on about how they got it so bad.



This is a fine, grand country.



Guiding light of the modern world, it is.



Low taxes, land of opportunity.



Where else would one bullet buy us

the fortune that we're getting for this?



Sure beats the living hell

out of blowing up airports and churches



without shite to show for it.






You find something, Murphy?



Looks to be our poor, dead cop's badge.



It's all bent up.



What's this stuck in it?



Bloody hell.

It's the bullet.



You son of a bitch!




They weren't cops. These four.



They were mercenaries.



And if they were hired

by who I think they were.



The bad times haven't even started yet.



And everything seemed

to be going so well.



(man) Remember, we don't have to

deliver every last inch of the man, Brian.



(Brian) You got a good point there, Ronnie.



Lend me your knife.



Should I take a nap

while I'm doing all this waiting?



I'm at the bone, all right?



There we go.



Have you ever seen anything so pretty

in your whole life?



We'll be back for the three of you,

and if anyone happens by,



use your imagination, OK?



Silence. Now.



No air to breathe.



Only the horrid. Oily tar taste

creeping up my nostrils.



Let it in.

Let it fill your lungs.



They were counting on you

and you blew it.



Skinny. Steely fingers at my wrist.



Miho. You're an angel.



You're a saint.



You're Mother Teresa.



You're Elvis.



You're God.



And if you'd shown up ten minutes

earlier. We'd still have Jackie Boy's head.



Dwight, they got Gail!



It's a cinch.

You got yourselves a spy in Old Town.



A stoolie who sold you out to the mob.



We gotta find out who it is and rescue Gail.



But first, we gotta get

our hands on Jackie Boy's head



before it gets to wherever it's going

and this whole situation blows wide open.



Miho, I hope to hell

you left one of 'em alive enough to talk.



I let him know I'm not fooling around.






We talk.



Stay smart.

Stay cool.



It's time to prove to your friends

that you're worth a damn.



Sometimes. That means dying.



Sometimes. It means killing

a whole lot of people.



There they are.

What do we do?



We stop 'em, Dallas.



Jackie Boy's head is so close to me



I could almost reach out

and grab it right then and there.






Get the head!

Get the head!



I got it!

I got it!



Suck on this, you stupid slag!



I can't tell if Miho is alive or dead.



But I'm on my feet and every ounce of me

wants to get some killing done.



You want the head now, sweetheart?

So come down and get it!



Brave lad.



I could've put a bullet

straight down your ear just now,



if I hadn't got me revolver

all wet and useless.



You got the drop on me, love.



I'm as helpless as a baby.



I got to come clean with you, sweetheart.



It was an outright lie I was giving ya

about me revolver being wet.



You see, I'm not too fond of shootin'.



It's my preference to blow things up.



Once you blast the roof off a pub



and seen all the parts flying off people,



a little bang bang's

never gonna match the sight of that.



And here's me, with all these fine grenades

and such a sweet beauty of a remote.



But it's me knife I'll be doing you with.



You killed me mates.



Someone shoulda told ya - never give

an Irishman good cause for revenge.



Deadly little Miho.



You won't feel a thing

unless she wants you to.



She twists the blade.



He feels it.



I tell Miho what we're gonna do

and how we're gonna do it.



I grab poor Dallas's car phone and make

the most important call of my life.



First. We gotta rescue Gail.

Then comes the kill.



The big. Fat kill.






Do we just gotta stand here

and watch this?



What, are you kidding me, man?



I could watch old Manute do his thing

all night long and not get tired of it.



I mean, the man's an artist.



Only an artist should be allowed

to touch such a beautiful subject.



Your skin is perfect.



Your nerves, responsive.






Just give them what they want, Gail.



- Becky?

- It's over, Gail.



There's no fighting them.

Dwight's dead.



They got what's left of that cop we killed.



The mob's gonna turn it over to the police

chief, the cops are gonna mow us down.



We gotta cut a deal.



You little bitch!

You sold us out!



I didn't have no choice!

They was gonna hurt my mom.



You gotta cut a deal with these people.



It's selfish, you holding out like this.



You're gonna get a lot of girls killed

for no good reason.



It wasn't your mom!



We could have protected her

and you know it.



It was the money, you stupid little bitch!



Sure, there's money. Sure, you could've

moved my mom into Old Town



and let her know

that her daughter's a goddamn whore.



Breaks your heart, doesn't it?



They offered me what you couldn't

never offer me - a way out.



I had to watch out for my own neck.



Your neck.



Your precious, scrawny little neck!






You're crazy! You could have

ripped my throat out, you crazy whore!



Schutz, fetch my blades.



- Stuka, kill this one.

- No, I was promised!



Stupid little bitch!

You deserve worse!



I knew there was a reason

I got out of bed this morning.










I don't see nobody.



Will you look at that?

It's right through me. Guys, look.



There's something wrapped around it.



Some kind of note.



Give it to me.



It's poked right through me.

Guys, look.



- It's starting to really hurt.

- Out back. Everyone.



And bring the women.



Do you think somebody

should call me a doctor or something?



McCarthy, you fool.












Dozens of them. Armed to the teeth.



I'm outnumbered. Outgunned.



But the alley is crooked.

Dark and very narrow.



They can't surround me.



Sometimes. You can beat the odds

with the careful choice of where to fight.



You can have Old Town, I don't care.



- Just give me the woman.

- (muffled speaking)



Shut up.



Dwight, don't do this.



- Hey, wait a minute. Something's not right.

- Shut up, or I'll plug you!



Of course, Mr. McCarthy.

A fair trade.



She's all yours.



Now, if you'll explain to me why

we shouldn't blow both of you to pieces...



Dwight, what have you done?



Exactly what I had to.



Every step of the way.



No! It isn't right!

There wasn't no tape over his mouth!



How come there's tape over his mouth?



Where to fight counts for a lot.



Cute trick, McCarthy,

but it will do you do good.



But there's nothing like having

your friends show up with lots of guns.




McCarthy, you shit!



The girls all know the score.



No escape. No surrender. No mercy.



We gotta kill every last

rat bastard one of 'em.



Every last one.



Not for revenge.

Not because they deserve it.



Not because it'll make

the world a better place.



We need a heap of bloody bodies



so when mob boss Wallenquist

looks over his charts of profits and losses.



He'll see what it cost him

to mess with the girls of Old Town.



They run out back.



Right on schedule.



Deadly little Miho.



She gets her practice in.



The Valkyrie at my side

is shouting and laughing



with the pure. Hateful.

Bloodthirsty joy of the slaughter.



And so am I.



The fire. Baby.



It'll burn us both.



There's no place in this world

for our kind of fire.



My warrior woman. My Valkyrie.



You'll always be mine.






and never.



(man) Just one hour to go.

My last day on the job.



Early retirement.

Not my idea.



Doctor's orders.

Heart condition.



"Angina." he calls it.



I'm polishing my badge and getting myself

used to the idea of saying goodbye to it.



It. And the   -odd years

of protecting and serving and tears



and the blood and terror

and triumph it represents.



I'm thinking about Eileen's slow smile.



About the thick. Fat steaks

she picked up at the butcher's today.



And I'm thinking about

the one loose end I haven't tied up.



A young girl who's out there somewhere.

Helpless in the hands of a drooling lunatic.



Damn it, Hartigan, I won't let you do this.

You're gonna get yourself killed.



You're gonna get us both killed.

I won't let you. I'm warnin' you.



Let go of my coat, Bob.



You're draggin' me down with you.



I'm your partner.

They can kill me, too.



I ain't puttin' up with that. I'm gettin'

on the horn and calling for backup.



Sure, Bob.

We'll just wait.



Sit on our hands while that Roark brat gets

his sick thrills with victim number four.



Victim number four!



Nancy Callahan, age   .



And she'll be raped

and slashed to ribbons.



And that backup that we're waitin' on

will just so happen to show up



just late enough for Roark

to get back to his US Senator daddy.



Take a deep breath, Hartigan.



Settle down and think straight.



You're pushin'   

and you got a bum ticker.



You ain't savin' anyone.



You got a great attitude, Bob.



Real credit to the force, you are.



Eileen's at home waitin' for you.

Think about Eileen.



Heck, Bob,



maybe you are right.



I'm glad to hear you're finally talkin' sense.



Hell of a way to end a partnership.



Hell of a way to start my retirement.



Nancy Callahan. Age   .



For all I know. She's dead already.



You've been a very good girl, Nancy.



- You've been very quiet.

- (Nancy whimpers)



Don't be scared.



We're gonna be

taking you home really soon.



But first,

we're going to introduce you to somebody.



He's a very nice man.



Halfway to the warehouse where

Weevil said they took her. And it hits.



Wicked spot of indigestion.



At least that's what I pray it is.



(man)... lighthearted

and momentary digression.



The briefest indulge-ment

in automotive pleasure.



(man # ) For cheap thrills.

Such short-lived durability, Mr. Shlubb.



You would risk engender-ating ill will

on the part of our employers.



Burt Shlubb and Douglas Klump - 



two any-dirty-job-there-is thugs

with delusions of eloquence.



This Jaguar you so pinheadedly covet -



temporarily remanded

to our custody though it may be -



remains the property

of the son of Senator Roark.



Gotta keep this quiet.

Take 'em down fast.



A single dent,

the merest scratch thereupon,



and the before-mentioned consequences

of which I so recently made mention



shall surely be athwart us.



(heavy heartbeats)






Catch your breath.

Give your heart time to slow down.



But it won't slow down.



Get over it.



She needs you.



We're all done here, Benny.



Let's give them some time together.

Give them some privacy.



Be with you in a minute, Lenny.



I'm just making sure

they get along really well.



And what kind of beast couldn't get along

with a precious little girl like this?



You must be awfully scared now.



But you've got nothing to be scared of.



(Nancy whimpers)



All we're gonna do is have a nice little talk.



That's all. Just a nice talk.

Just you and me.



- (sobbing)

- Don't you cry now.



Doctor said it'd be like this.



Just take the pill he gave you.






No need to play it quiet.



Not anymore.



Breathe steady. Old man.

Prove you're not completely useless.



What the hell?

Go out with a bang.



He likes to hear 'em scream.



I've seen his victims

and their twisted little faces.



All wide-mouthed and bug-eyed. Frozen

in their last horrible moment of living.



No screams.

Either I'm just in time. Or I'm way too late.









It's nothing. Barely a flesh wound.

On your feet. Old man.



(Hartigan) Roark.

Give it up.



Let the girl go.



You can't do

a goddamn thing to me, Hartigan.



You know who I am.



You know who my father is!



You can't touch me, you piece-of-shit cop.



Look at you. You can't even lift

that cannon you're carrying.



Sure, I can.






Cover your eyes, Nancy.

I don't want you watching this.



I mean it, baby.

Cover your eyes right now.



I take his weapons away.






Both of them.









Hell of a way to end a partnership.



(Bob) For God's sakes,

don't make it any worse.



- Don't make me kill you.

- Doin' fine, Bob.



Never better.



(Roark grunting)



I'm ready to kick your ass.



Keep him talking.

Buy time.



Just a few more minutes.

Just till the backup gets here.



Sit down and stay down.

I'll kill you if I have to.



Keep his mind off the girl - 

skinny little Nancy.



He can't kill her

once the backup gets here.



Run home, Nancy.

Run for your life.



Hey. Don't listen to him.

He's a crazy man.



- What a tough man you are, huh?

- You stay right where you're at.



You shoot your partner in the back...



then you try to scare a little girl.



Maybe I'll pull my spare rod, plug you

a couple of times, show you how it's done.



We could've worked something out,

but you've blown that.



Sit down or I'll blast you in half.



- You're so slow, you'll never stop me.

- Sit down!



You'll never be able to stop me.






(sirens blaring)



I finally sit down.

Just like you told me to.



The sirens are close now.



She'll be safe.



Things go dark.

I don't mind much.



Getting sleepy.

It's OK.



She'll be safe.



An old man dies.



A little girl lives.



Fair trade.



Just tell me it isn't true, John.



What they're saying

about you and that child.



It can't be true.



If you ever want to see me again...



say something now.



We're looking at your

basic mountain of DNA evidence,



the testimony of your own partner,



corroboration by six eye-witnesses -

and that's just so far -



and there's your own silence.



I'll do what I can, but needless to say,

you are good and screwed.



Come on, Hartigan.

What's holding you back?



What's shutting you up?

This whole thing stinks to high heaven.



I'm not the only one

on the force who smells it.



Sure, I'll rinse your bedpan

and wipe your butt. That's my job.



But don't expect any friendly chitchat

outta me, mister.



I heard what you've done to that girl.

I hope they throw away the key.



Evenin', officer.



I don't have to introduce myself, do I?

You read the papers.



This being an election year,

you've seen plenty of my picture.



You know who I am and what I can do.



And I'm doin' you, Hartigan.



Cold and hard, I'm doing you.



You blew my son's ear off.



You blew his arm off.

You even blew his nuts and his pecker off.



He's in a coma right now.

They say he may never come out of it.



My boy.



He could've been the first Roark to become

the President of the United States,



but you went and turned him into

a brain-damaged, dickless freak.



Pullin' that trigger make you feel powerful?



Power don't come from a badge or a gun.



Power comes from lying.



Lying big, and gettin' the whole

damn world to play along with you.



Once you got everybody agreeing with

what they know in their hearts ain't true,



you've got 'em by the balls.



There's what,

maybe     people in this hospital?



I could pump you full of bullets right now,

and I wouldn't even be arrested.



Everyone would lie for me -

everyone who counts.



Otherwise, all their own lies -

everything that runs Sin City -



it all comes tumbling down

like a pack of cards.






But I want you firm and fit and healthy.



I'm even putting up cash of my own

to get you more surgery.



Fix that heart condition of yours.



You're gonna keep on living a long time.

I'm gonna make sure of that.



You're gonna be convicted of raping

that little brat, and shooting my boy.



And you're gonna spend

the rest of your life in prison,



disgraced, destroyed...






Your wife?



You tell her the truth and she's dead.



You tell anybody the truth

and they're dead.



They won't let me testify.



I told the cops that you saved my life

and they just acted like I was crazy.



They talked my parents

into keeping me away.



They said that you'd done things

that you didn't do.



I told them that you saved me

from that Roark creep,



but they won't even check me out

to see that I'm still a virgin.



I'm still a virgin, still alive -

thanks to you.



They got it all backwards.



Sometimes, the truth

doesn't matter like it ought.



But you'll always remember things right.



That's gonna mean a lot to me.



But stay away, Nancy.

They'll kill you if you don't stay away.



Don't visit me.



Don't write me.



Don't even say my name.



Maybe you won't let me visit,

but I'll still write to you, Hartigan.



I'll sign my letters "Cordelia."



That's the name of a really cool

detective in books I read.



I'll write you every week... for forever.



Sure, kid.



Now, run on home.



It's not safe for you here.



Bye, Nancy.



I love you.



John Hartigan.



Mr. Law and Order.



Mr. By the Book.



Mr. High and Mighty.



I gotta give you credit, being such

a straight arrow for so damn many years



without it catching up with you.



It's catching up with you now,

friend of mine.



It's catching up with you but good.



(woman) Maybe I oughta look at him.

He doesn't look too good.



Ohh, he's hale and hearty, Tammy. See?



He's the picture of health.



That Tammy, there - she's fine, isn't she?



I rented her out of Old Town.



I wanted to show you what you won't

be getting any of, not in prison.



You hear me, Hartigan?



If you stop being stupid,

start playing along with us,



you might just get some of Tammy.



You see that?

She flinched.



You make her sick.



She heard about you and that little girl.



This is nothing but a price I promised

myself I'd pay. And I'm paying it.



You don't save a little girl's life. Then

turn around and throw her to the dogs.



Not in my book. You don't.



They want a confession.

They won't get it.



There was a letter from Nancy waiting

when they put me in solitary.



She calls herself "Cordelia."

Just like she promised.



She makes no mention of anything

that would give her away.



At first. I figure

she'll send another note or two



before her young mind

moves on to better things.



But every Thursday. Another one arrives.



What a sweet kid.



I do my best to keep my hand

from shaking when I reach for it.



She's the only friend I've got - 

the daughter I never had.



My sweet Cordelia.



Skinny little Nancy Callahan.



Eight years pass.



Then comes a Thursday

when I bound from my cot.



Excited as a kid at Christmas.



Only to find myself

staring at the damn floor of my damn cell.



Iooking for a letter from Nancy

that isn't there.



Then another Thursday with no letter.



Is she all right?



Did something happen to her?






Two months now - 

not a word from Nancy.



Did they find her?

Did they get to her?



Of course!

Stupid old man.



Do your math.

Nancy's    years old.



How long did you expect her

to keep writing?



She was a saint to keep it up

as long as she did.



She's forgotten you. Old man.



You're alone.



You're all alone.



This guy smells awful - 

like bad food.



Like a corpse left in a garbage dumpster

in the middle of summer.



He stinks so bad. I want to throw up.



Practically knocked my head off.

The bastard.



When I come to. I see it.



The same kind of envelope

Nancy always uses.



But there's no letter inside of it.



There's something soft.



Something that ought to be alive - 

a hunk of meat and bone



that ought to be the index finger

of the right hand of a   -year-old girl.



How the hell did they find her?



She was so careful.



She never gave away

where she lives or where she works.






I've got to get out.

I've got to help her.



Nothing else matters - 

not my life and not my pride. Either.



It's only one final surrender they want.



You got me. Roark.

You beat me.



I'll get it, Claire.

That'll be Marv.



He never sleeps.

He's always getting himself in deep.










My God, it is you.



Yes, yes...



I'll get right on it.

Right this second.



I'll be there by ten, I promise.



(Hartigan) Lucille. She wouldn't give up

on me back before the trial.



She almost slugged me when I stopped

her from hiring a new attorney.



When I refused to plead innocent.

She did slug me.



If she hears what I'm gonna do.

She'll probably slug me again.




Hot damn.



It's like they were waiting for my call.



They're ready to deal.

They're practically begging for a deal.



They're scared of something.



One of them as much as promised me

parole if you confess and express regret



and all that other dumb crap

that, of course, we won't go for.



We're getting you out for time served,

with no strings attached.



Then we're gonna sue those sorry

sons of bitches for false prosecution.



You're gonna be exonerated,

and a very rich man.



- This isn't like you think it is.

- The hell it isn't.



Anyone can figure out who framed you,

but even Senator Roark isn't God.



- You hung up the phone too soon.

- We use the law, the press...



- He will never know what hit him.

- I'm gonna confess.



Excuse me?



John Hartigan, crawling on his belly

in front of a parole board?



Confessing to raping a little girl

and blubbering for mercy?



No, doesn't work.



I'm going in there telling them

I'm a twisted, wretched child molester,



agreeing to anything they want from me.



All right, you son of a bitch.



Let's get this over with.



I say everything they want to hear.

Just the way they want to hear it.



I tell them I'm a twisted.

Wretched child molester.



I agree to everything they want from me.



I love you. Nancy.



It's a lot of miles into town, Hartigan.



- You care for a ride?

- Long as you stay in front of me.



Prison's made you paranoid.

Talk about water under the bridge.






Eight years.




Eight years.



Well, if it's any consolation to you...



you made me hate myself.



- Any word from Eileen?

- Yeah.



She got remarried four years ago.



She had two kids.

I'm sorry, John.



Don't be.



I'm glad.



Eileen always wanted kids.



She'll make a good mother.



Like you said, Bob -

water under the bridge.



Bob and I get on

with our fond farewells to each other.



Then I go looking for the only human being

on the planet who means a damn to me - 






How could they have found out it was you

writing all those letters to me?



How did they find out who you are?



And what have they done to you. Baby?



Not a sound.



No sign of life.



Has Roark gone to all this trouble

just to torture a broken old man.



Like a kid poking at a fly

when he's already torn his wings off?



What has he done to Nancy?



It's like all she ever does

is read and study and write.



No diary. No phone numbers

or addresses written down anywhere.



Closest thing to a clue

is a pack of matches from a lousy saloon.



It's a long shot.

But maybe she's got some friends there.



A dead end.



Nancy wouldn't have anything to do

with a pack of drunks and losers like this.



But if there's anything to be found here.

The faintest lead to wherever Nancy is



or whoever kidnapped her

and mutilated her. This is the place.



Excuse me, miss. Wondering if you

could help me. I'm looking for somebody.



Cold night like this, everybody's

looking for somebody, stranger.



It's not like that.

Her name is Nancy.



Eyes to the stage, pilgrim.



She's just warming up.



Skinny little Nancy Callahan.



She grew up.



She filled out.



Nancy Callahan.    years old.



And here I was.

Expecting a skinny little bookworm.



Maybe a bit too shy for her own good.



How little she told me about herself

in all her letters for all those years.



How the hell did they find her?



Then it hits me.



They were bluffing.



I've led them straight to her.



She hasn't spotted you yet.



Turn around and walk out the door.



Lead the creep outside.



Get that Beretta away from him somehow.

And kill him.



I'm just a horny ex-con

watching an exotic dancer.



Just a few seconds and she'll be safe.



No. Nancy.

Don't notice me.



Don't recognize me.



There's no time to explain.



I've made a terrible mistake,

put you in terrible danger.



We need to get out of here

right this second.



Whatever you say, Hartigan.

Let me throw some clothes on.



And here I'd figured you'd forgotten

all about me. Me and my dumb letters.



Kept me going.



Kept me from killing myself.



Hurry up, will you?



- (Hartigan) Maybe I should drive.

- (Nancy) Not a chance.



Nobody but me

can keep this heap running.



Besides, from the sound of things,

you might have to shoot somebody.



- I don't have a gun.

- Under the seat.



It's loaded and it works.



Yeah, this'll do.



Taken it to the range a couple of times.

Kicks like a mule.



Hartigan, there's so much

I've wanted to say to you.



You've never been far from my thoughts.



I've lain awake nights, thinking of you.



- What are you talking about?

- (gunshot)



Keep driving, Nancy.

Keep driving and keep the car on the road!



She's counting on you. Old man.



What are you doing?



Prove you're still worth a damn.



Try and keep it on the road, Nancy!



He's a decent shot.



He's got skill.

But he's in too much of a hurry.



Throwing away bullets

like they were candy.



He doesn't know how to take his time.



Aim careful and look the devil in the eye.



Stop the car, Nancy.

Gotta confirm the kill.



- What?

- Stop the car, now!




Stop the car, confirm the kill.



Sorry. I got a little rattled.



It's OK. You did great.

Sit tight. I'll be right back.




Let me stay close.



Nothing can happen to me

when I'm with you.




Let me stay close.



The stink - I almost gag.



His blood smells

even worse than he does.



- Jesus.

- And it's all over the place.



- But the creep himself. He's gone.

- (siren blaring)



We're out of time.



The sirens - I used to welcome the sound.



There's nothing to do now

but find a place to hole up for the night.



Get Nancy calmed down. And figure out

what on Earth I'm going to do next.



The stink - somehow it stays with us

all the way to the motel.



Nancy, I went to your apartment.



Your window was thrown wide open.

The rooms looked almost empty.



That's why I was sure

you'd been kidnapped.



My window? Robbed again?

That's the third time this year!



I swore if I ever saw you again,

I'd show you I grew up strong.



But there I was, just like before,

scared and helpless.



- I'm such an asshole.

- You should sit down.



You'll feel a little bit better if you sit down.



I've never been all that good with people.



When it comes to reassuring

a traumatized   -year-old.



I'm as expert as a palsy victim

doing brain surgery with a pipe wrench.



It's always been you, Hartigan.



All these years.



It's just nerves

making you say that, Nancy.



You're just exhausted.

You need to sleep.



- Sleep with me.

- Stop it, Nancy!



Eight years.



Why do you think

I kept writing you those letters?



It wasn't just gratitude.



I tried to fall in love with boys.



Even thought I did once or twice.



But I was already in love... with you.






There's wrong and there's wrong

and then there's this.



For God's sakes, you're just a kid!



I love you.



I love you, too.



With all my heart.



Cold shower - it helps.



No, Nancy.



Recognize my voice, Hartigan?



Recognize my voice,

you piece of shit cop?



I look different,

but I bet you can recognize my voice.




I recognize your voice, Junior.



Everything's gone straight to hell.



I've been suckered

into betraying the only friend I've got.



And put her in the hands of a murdering

rapist I thought I'd put down for good.



Suckered by a spoiled brat

son of a senator.



It's all gone to hell.



Klump, it's me.



I got a dead man needs to be fetched.



I want you to set me up for a party.



I've already got the girl, you dumb shit!



Hey, it better be perfect

or I'm calling my dad!



My tools better be clean and sharp.



It better be ready!

It better be perfect!



I get to do whatever I want,

however I want, whenever I want it!



My dad - I'd love him if I didn't hate him.



He spent a fortune

hiring every expert on the planet



to grow back that equipment

you blew off from between my legs,



just so the old fart can hold out

some kind of hope of having a grandkid.



Although, as you can see,

there were some side effects.



I'm not complaining, though.

Since you've been gone,



I've been having the time of my life.



And now you've led me back

to your darling Cordelia.



We all wondered

who wrote all those letters.



She left not a clue.



Clever girl.

And so pretty, so pretty.



A little old for my taste,

but I can forgive that just this once.



Nancy, don't scream.



Whatever he does to you, don't scream.



She'll scream. I'm gonna take

all night doing dear old Nancy.



And you're gonna die knowing

that it's all your fault.



They've all screamed, Hartigan.



Dozens of them - maybe a hundred.



Eight years' worth.

Every one of them has screamed.



And if there weren't

so many people hereabout,



I would show you how

I'm gonna make dear old Nancy scream.



It's gonna be one hell of a show!



(he chokes)



This is it.

No way to fight it now.



No hope left.



No chance.



This is it.

This is the end.






Give it a shot. Old man.

Keep your neck tight. Move.



The window - maybe there's an alarm.

The window.



Keep your neck tight. Goddamn it!

Stay conscious!



Stay conscious.



No alarm.



The glass! Cut the rope.



You can do it.

You can do it.



(Klump) It is inclement upon me



to comment with marked displeasure

on your rash impulsiveness



in selecting such an eye-catching

and impractical car to heist, Mr. Shlubb.



Protest though you might, Mr. Klump,



you must nonetheless admit the phallic

magistry of said Ferrari's performance.



An engine of Cyclopean power

throbs beneath this steel stallion's hood.



Irrelevant to said mission is the following

query, which I now put forth to you.



Wherein this most streamlined

and trunkless of transports -



boner-inspiring though it may be -



wherein are we to reposit

our recently deceased cargo?



A worthy concern.



Neatly elucidated.



I can only express puzzlement

that borders on alarm.



Tell me where Roark takes the girls

or I'll cut your damn head off!



In plain English, creep!



The answer you seek is rural,

even agrarian.



The farm!



That's all I need to hear.

Every cop on the force



knows about the Roark family's farm

and to stay away from it.



Shlubb and Klump

were packing an arsenal.



Once things get loud.

I'll probably have use for the cannons.



But at first. I'll have to play it quiet.



Quiet and nasty.



Nancy's car - six miles from the farm.



"Nobody but me can keep

this heap running. " she told me.



Good girl.

The car stalled out on that yellow bastard



and you didn't tell him

how to start it up again.



You kept your mouth shut.

I'll bet Junior was furious.



I'll bet he slapped you around

something fierce.



But you stayed strong.

You bought a few extra minutes.



There's still a chance. Nancy.



Don't scream.



I ditch the car a mile or so from the farm

and make my way through the woods.



I'm not halfway there when it hits.



My heart.

Can't be my heart.



I was cured.



Bad cough - blood in it.



Doesn't matter now.



I don't have to stay alive

that much longer. Anyway.



Rotten way to kill a man. But it's quiet.



Hate yourself later.






You're only making this worse for yourself,

you stupid cow!



Do you think I'm tired?



Is that it?

Do you think I'm getting tired?



You're the one who's gonna crack!



You'll crack!



You'll cry and beg!



You'll scream!



Oh, yeah, you'll scream,

you big, fat, ugly cow!



You'll scream!



You're thinking the whip

was the worst I could do?



That was foreplay.



Hartigan was right about you.



You can't get it up unless I scream.



You're pathetic!



You're pathetic.



It's not wise at all

to make fun of me like that.



It brings out the worst in me.



Stupid old man!



In too much of a hurry.




It can't be!



Charging in like Galahad.

Just like I told myself I wouldn't!



Stupid old man!



- You tagged him good!

- Don't take no chances. Perforate the fool.



Good advice.



Give it up, Junior.



It's over.

Let her go.



You're dreaming, Hartigan!



I get to see your eyes while I fillet the

woman of your dreams right in front of you!



Look at you!

You're about to keel over!



You can't even lift that cannon!



Sure, I can.






You gave me a scare there

for a second there, old man.



Nancy, I'm sorry.



I'm taking no chances with you.



First I soften you up,

and then it's showtime.



Here it comes.



It's gonna hurt.



You're right about that.






I take away his weapon.



Both of them.






Eight long years, son of a bitch!



After a while. All I'm doing is pounding

wet chunks of bone into the floorboards.



So I stop.



So long, Junior.



Been a pleasure.



I didn't scream, Hartigan, not once.



I didn't scream.



I know it, baby.



You grew up strong.



By the time I get her to the car.

Nancy stops shaking.



Her skin is warm again.

She's herself again.



Thanks for remembering my coat.



And for all the little things.



Like saving my life, twice.



- You better get rolling.

- You're not coming along?



No. I have friends on their way,

to collect evidence.



I'm gonna blow

this whole sick mess wide open.



I'm gonna clear my name.



I'm gonna put Senator Roark

behind bars where he belongs.



I can't lose you, not again.



You'll never lose me, Nancy.



Nancy Callahan. The love of my life.



Shame to lie to her.

I hope she forgives me for it.



Get Senator Roark behind bars?




And maybe after I've pulled off

that miracle. I'll go and punch out God.



There isn't a prosecutor in the state

who'll go after Senator Roark.



I killed his only son.



The bloodline is cut.



Roark's lost his goddamn legacy.



He'll use all his power

to get revenge on me.



He'll go after me through Nancy.

He'll find her again.



There'll be no end to it.



She'll never be safe.



Not as long as I'm alive.



There's only one way to beat him.



An old man dies.



A young woman lives.



Fair trade.



I love you. Nancy.


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