Barely Lethal

1

I never knew my parents.

The only thing I ever knew was Prescott.

It was a top-secret

government-run school

that turned little girls

into killing machines.

Not bad. Run it again.

Back of the line, grandma.

97, you're up!

Move! Time trial starts

in three, two, one...

Hardman, the head of Prescott,

had some unique ideas about education.

It's all about putting holes

in the subject.

- See what I mean?

- Ladies, prepare to spring some leaks.

Engage. It's all about

vulnerability. Eyes...

Now, we may have all been orphans,

but we were never allowed

to become a family.

Carotid arteries.

Pens up!

To be a Prescott is to be an island.

It is you and you alone out there.

- What do we say, ladies?

- No attachments!

No... attachments.

Yeah, that part never

sounded right to me.

- Engage!

- But I was good at everything else.

The best, actually.

As much as I wanted to make friends,

that was just never gonna happen here.

Begin.

Bad intentions, ladies. Bad intentions.

Every punch has a purpose.

Strike and move. Strike and move.

Flow.

Elbows, knees. React.

Hammer fist, ladies.

You're not training to save your lives.

You're training to take someone else's.

B*tch.

I was the first one

in my class to be activated.

As usual, 84 didn't take it well.

It takes a certain mindset

to do this kind of work.

That's why they get to us so young.

Plus, who would ever suspect a kid?

Not this guy.

What can I say? He trained us well.

Sure, I got to see the world...

but what I couldn't help notice

was this whole other world

I was missing.

I wanted to know what normal kids did,

so I started gathering Intel.

Meet Victoria Knox:

American expat turned arms dealer.

If you're a terrorist

and you want to kill some folk,

this is the person you call.

Don't let her good looks fool you.

She has an I.Q. of 140,

and she will use it to kill you.

She was last seen in Corsica

three years ago,

until she resurfaced eight hours ago,

and will probably be gone in eight more,

unless we bring her in.

Correction:

Unless you catch her, Agent 83,

- and bring her in, alive.

- Wait, what?

- Simmer down. You're B-team, 84.

- B-team? This should be my mission.

I studied the case file. She's over there

sniffing Kesha, the new fragrance by Kesha.

I said simmer...

You need to get your head

in the game, Agent 83,

because Victoria Knox will take it off.

If we follow the profile,

everyone will come home safely.

- And remember, we're not in...

- In the rescue business.

What she said.

Gear up. We're wheels up in one hour.

Knox was a legend.

Ruthless, vindictive...

and she had a thing

for taking out Prescotts.

Got some bad news: You're dead.

Hey, guys.

- You make them comfortable?

- 36 hours alone in the box.

Oh, good. Good, good, good.

Copenhagen? Hi, peek-a-boo.

Copenhagen's mine.

Johannesburg, remember me?

Like having a gun to your face?

Feels good, doesn't it?

And you... finally got you.

- Gotcha.

- You got nothing, kid.

What do you plan to do with that?

Still playing dress-up

with 007-year-olds?

- Where is she?

- You missing someone?

- You mad at me?

- Let's just say

I'm a little disappointed

with your life choices.

Sit her ass down somewhere.

- Hi. What's your name?

- 83, come back.

83, come in if you hear me.

Give us a visual, anything.

Sign me, come in.

83, come in. Give us a sign

you're down there.

I didn't plan for it

to turn out like this,

but there was no turning back now.

This was my chance to escape.

83, this is your last chance.

Sir, no visual, no audio.

She's not responding.

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