Mean Guns Page #2

over to the city tonight.

It'll be ready.

Hey, moon...

Nothing else

will go wrong.

What the f*** is this?

I know the deal.

What is this?

I don't get it.

Marcus, what's up, stud?

How's the world?

Spinning right along.

Jesus, I told you bring her,

not rip her head off.

She's got a lot of balls

for an accountant.

Yes, she does.

Your boys are

kind of fresh, boss.

I'll make sure to tell 'em.

Come here, slut.

Aw, sweet pea, I didn't

expect you to be here.

This is like

a members only thing.

Big Bob said

it would be ok.

Did he?

Hey!

Best laid plans

of moon and men.

I'm sorry, boss.

Marcus, you keep your head

about you, ok, man?

The original mambo king.

Huh?

Makes you want to dance.

A**hole.

You have all

betrayed the syndicate.

Maybe in little ways

over a long period of time.

Maybe once.

Maybe one big time.

Maybe something in-between.

You blabbed, you stole,

you plotted,

you saw too much,

maybe you did too little.

Now, your individual sins

are written

right on the cards

right in front of you.

But I'm sure you know,

and we all know,

what happens to those

that betray the syndicate.

Our first intention was just

to murder you motherfuckers.

Throw your punk asses

in a big-ass hole,

cover it up with lime.

That'd be the easiest way.

But that ain't

the most interesting, nah.

So I convinced them,

why don't you let me give

out prizes to the winners?

Let the syndicate watch?

This sh*t's gonna be

better than pay-TV.

So look at all you

tough motherfuckers...

Who is the best killer in here?

I don't know.

Oh, sh*t.

Best backstabber...

Step up, claim your prize.

Gold, bronze, silver...

To the losers...

Who gives a f***?

We are gonna find out

who the coldest 3 motherfuckers

in this building are.

Better believe that sh*t.

What's the prize?

Obviously, loyalty means nothing

to anybody in this room.

The prize

is $10 million cash.

Split 3 ways.

That comes up to

$3.3 million dollars each

for the coldest motherfuckers

in this building.

But every good game has to have

good, tough losers, too.

So, who are the losers?

So, what's the rules?

Just like life...

Survival of the fittest.

To win, you eliminate

the competition.

All competition!

Except 3.

This whole prison has been

vacated and cordoned off.

That's the ballpark.

Elevators and gates

are cut off and locked.

Everything else is open.

Deep inside the ballpark

is a briefcase filled

to the top with cash.

That's the prize.

Now, once everybody

gets spread out,

why don't you killers

give a guy a call?

Let me know what's going on,

who got took out.

That way I'll know

when my game's over.

The number's

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