Death Race: Inferno Page #2

and ends with you.

Carl Lucas.

Born a gangster,

became a prisoner,

and now, a monster.

May he rest in peace.

You and your team

win five races

and you go free.

Goldberg, Lists

and that beautiful,

beautiful Katrina.

Now, for this to work,

you can't tell your

true identity to anyone.

Carl Lucas stays dead.

You're Frankenstein.

Well, you're welcome, a**hole.

Four wins and not

even a thank you.

This all starts

and ends with you.

There he is.

There's the guy.

I'm having you transferred.

You're headed to the Kalahari Desert

Maximum Security Penitentiary

in South Africa where you will compete

in the first ever Desert Death Race.

Wow. What do I get,

my own dune buggy?

Youre just on loan

to the Kalahari

to help launch the first of what will

be many international Death Races.

We're sending 14K,

as well as both your teams.

So I'm guessing I should

get my passport updated.

I get the feeling that you

are not taking me seriously.

That's because I'm not.

Listen to me. I made

a deal with Weyland.

I win one more race,

me, my team,

we're out.

Yeah, well, you know,

it's a pity about Weyland,

because all deals

with him are null and void.

You work for me now.

New rules.

No.

No, I don't think so.

You don't have a choice, mate.

But if you don't want to drive,

fine.

I will paint my plane

red with your blood.

Really?

Niles?

What are you gonna do,

replace me?

With Who?

Why would you care?

You're already dead.

So, as long as you're alive, you'll be

treated like the star that you are.

Or,

I could just simply

f*** up your little plan,

couldn't I,

by winning one more race

and I'm free.

Wow. You'll never make it

to the finish line, mate.

Trust me on that.

You lose, you live.

You win, you die.

Okay, get out!

Let's go, move!

Bring that jackhammer here.

Get in the line!

Get moving!

Boy, take a look at those!

Move your f***in' arse.

Who's that?

Hey, Goldberg!

Yeah, that's right.

I'm a big fan. But we've got

our own b*tches down here.

I don't know why you

brought yours along.

Hey, let me give

you an autograph.

Move! Move!

Let's take this f***ing joint!

Kill them all!

- Set up a perimeter now.

- On the ground, now!

Sh*t!

Get up!

Are you hurt? What?

Lucas.

It always was you.

You son of a b*tch!

We thought you were dead.

So it's always been

you behind the mask.

Yeah, it's a long story.

So what kind of deal

did they make, huh?

I didn't have a choice.

Whatever it was, it included

getting your face fixed.

I saw it.

I was there.

Did you, Goldberg?

Or did you just see what

they wanted you to see?

What did they want us to see?

That is no deal.

You never needed

to make a deal.

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