Death Race

Damn it.

Rear armor?

Shot to hell.

You better drop back...

It's the last lap.

We can win this.

Why don't this son

of a b*tch just die?

Oil.

Out.

Smoke.

Finished.

Give me the napalm.

Nothing works.

Drop the tombstone.

On my mark. Three,

two,

one.

I got you now,

motherf***er.

Mark.

Sh*t.

F***.

That's how you want

to do it? Okay.

He's still coming.

Our tank is exposed.

He's got us, Frank.

You have to drop back.

It's a quarter mile to

the line. I can make it.

Sayonara, Frankie.

Punch out.

I'm sorry.

Forty years.

Longer than my marriage.

Sounds like you're

gonna miss this place.

I still can't believe they...

closed it down.

Just like that.

The only thing I'm gonna

miss is my paycheck.

Well, it was honest

work for honest men.

I got a family to feed,

and there's no work out there.

I hear they might be

hiring down at the docks.

Five men, maybe.

Hey, thanks, man.

Thanks, Jensen.

Collect your final

paycheck and leave.

The main gate will be

locked in 15 minutes.

Get ready to be

ripped off, boys.

Collect your paycheck

and leave...

the premises in an

orderly manner.

The main gate will be

locked in 15 minutes.

Cash or check?

Better make it cash.

$300.

I worked 120 hours

the last two weeks.

Cash fee. Next.

Cash fee?

You wanted cash,

there's a fee.

You want a check instead?

Seeing as the company's out

of business, not exactly.

You don't like it, there's

the complaint box. Next.

They never get it.

Self-fulfilling prophecy.

We're honest workers.

We're just like you guys.

What the hell are

you doing here?

You bastards.

Sh*t. Sh*t.

Ross.

You okay, Ross?

Rubber bullets,

the a**holes.

Come on.

Come on.

Hi, honey.

Hi. Sorry I'm so late.

Nice day at work?

Yeah. Just fine.

Give me that shirt.

They called the riot

police. It got ugly.

I don't deserve you.

You're a good man,

Jensen Ames.

And it doesn't matter what

anyone else thinks but me.

So, $300. That's

all they gave us.

We'll make it last.

We always do.

I'll start looking tomorrow.

I think you're forgetting

that I married you...

for your

non-financial assets.

Did you now?

Mmm-hmm.

Daddy's home. Is it you

who was making all that noise?

What does little

Piper want? Want a story?

You know you

won't understand it.

But it will be good

practice for me.

But it will be good

practice for me.

What the hell.

Let's go crazy.

Something smells good.

Honey?

Suzy?

Stay on the ground.

Stay on the ground.

Drop the knife.

Do not resist.

Stay on the ground.

Stay where you are.

Stay on the ground.

Don't move.

Move.

Get up against the wall.

Scrub yourself.

Stop.

Prisoner will step back.

Happy holidays.

They slipped.

Good morning.

Morning.

Morning, Warden.

Morning.

Good morning, ma'am.

Good morning.

There goes the baddest

ass in the yard.

Sound like you're

in love, homie.

I am.

Damn. I had to

wake up for this?

All right, is it

my imagination,

or is this sh*t

getting worse?

Like, what is this

supposed to be?

Oatmeal.

I think.

Man, how do you

f*** up oatmeal?

Who's the new guy?

Jensen Ames.

The driver?

Never heard of him.

Oh, yeah, I saw him race

years ago. He's good.

Did some time upstate.

Killed his career.

Holder of the fastest laps

at Willard, Union and Butler.

I hope he's as fast off

the track as he is on.

Never a dull day.

Let's get the f***

out of here.

Heads up.

It's Pachenko.

So you're the wife killer.

Takes a big man

to kill a woman.

I suppose you

rape kiddies, too.

You hear that,

everyone?

Guy kills women.

Rapes kiddies.

What do you think we

ought to do about that?

Get down on the ground.

Down on the ground. Now.

Nobody move.

Nobody move.

I guess he didn't like

the oatmeal, either.

Well, you've got stones.

Putting the hurt on

a Brotherhood general.

But right now, that's the

least of your problems.

The warden does bad

things to people...

that mix it up

with the drivers.

Prisoner 77119, ma'am.

Thank you, Mr. Ulrich.

This prison is the

home to murderers,

rapists and violent

offenders of every kind.

The United States penal system...

sends me the worst

of the worst.

But the men

you've provoked...

Well, let's just

say, Mr. Ames,

that the life term

you joined us for...

may be a lot shorter

than you think.

I understand.

Tradition.

Soften up the new guy.

An ass-slapping good

time had by all.

Foul language is an issue...

for me.

While looking

over your record.

I couldn't help noticing

your occupational history.

It seems you have some

talent behind the wheel.

Out of curiosity, when was

the last time you raced?

It's been a while.

I lost my license.

What if I could help you?

Get my license back?

I had something else in mind.

You're familiar

with the Death Race...

and the driver the

fans call Frankenstein?

A man so disfigured

by crashes...

that he's forced

to wear a mask.

His return to the track

is highly anticipated,

and therein lies my problem.

No one knows yet,

but poor Frank died...

on an operating table not

long after his last race.

Anyone can wear the mask.

But not just anyone

can drive the car.

You have the skills I require

to keep the legend alive.

I want you to become

Frankenstein.

No, thanks.

He's dead.

Why don't you just

tell the truth?

The audience wants

to see Frank again.

He moves them.

Inspires them.

And in this world, that's

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