Death Race

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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