Marked For Death Page #5
- R
- Year:
- 1990
- 93 min
- 326 Views
some shitbird cherry to take your place,
they give him your shield,
and you're forgotten.
The way l look at it, you come home, mind
your own business, watch your own yard.
And then, if trouble finds you,
you go after it and you bite its head off
before it does the same thing to you.
Look, Hatch,
you haven't been here in a long time,
and l'm telling you, trouble is tapping us
both on the shoulder right now,
- and you don't want to turn around.
- Well, l hope you're wrong.
- You look a little winded there, big guy.
- Gimme a break. l'm on vacation.
Tracey has something to show you.
She's been waiting.
Get down!
Johnny!
They hurt my baby!
Tracey is in serious condition,
and she's unstable.
There's pressure on the brain
that we'll have to relieve.
- Well, what does that mean?
- Surgery. l can't give you a prognosis.
She's fighting for her life, and so are we.
Doc, you treat this girl like she's
the president of the United States.
- Money isn't a consideration.
- We treat all of our patients exactly...
Let me tell you somethin'.
Like the president of the United States, OK?
Don't touch me, John. Don't touch me.
This is your fault.
Do you understand? This is your fault.
God damn you! God damn you!
This is your fault! And my baby...
My baby...
- Jimmy, how ya doin'?
- Hatch, what the f*** are you doin' here?
Why don't you guys take a hike?
Go find another trick, all right?
You bailed out a Jamaican, street name
Monkey, the other day. l want him.
This other piece of sh*t - Screwface -
l want him.
You're a scumbag and a puke.
l don't mind that.
Gimme what l need, l leave here a nice guy.
You don't, l f*** you up.
You f***in' know better than that, Hatcher.
Come here. l just wanna talk to you
for a minute. Come here.
The Mob throws you out of Atlantic City.
Now you sell guns to the Jamaicans.
F***in' sell anything to anybody, except you.
Wouldn't sell you the sweat off my balls!
- ls that right?
- Yeah.
Watch it!
- You're a f***in' dead man, Hatcher!
- Yeah?
l'm f***in' Jimmy Fingers!
l'm a made f***in' man!
God made men.
l wanna know where Screwface is.
- Screwface? Me don't know no Screwface.
- Really?
Hm. That's strange.
- Does that remind you?
- Just shoot me now, man!
l got a better idea. We're gonna go for a ride.
Everybody's gonna see us, and Screwface
is gonna find out what good buddies we are.
Come on.
- Let's go! Let's go!
- All right, man! All right!
Just easy. l will take you.
Good. l wanna get there while l'm still young.
Screwface kill me
a t'ousand deaths worse dan you.
- Yeah?
- Find him your f***in' self!
Well?
One thought he was invincible.
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"Marked For Death" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 3 Jun 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/marked_for_death_13396>.
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