Pound of Flesh Page #4

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Don't f***ing slow down!

Hard left! Turn, turn, turn!

- We're not going to fit through there.

- There's enough room.

There's not enough room.

- There's enough room!

- There's not enough room.

- There's not enough room!

- There's enough f***ing room!

Come on, George!

Okay. Let's go.

Found the fights. It's in a slum

on the other side of the city.

Is he asleep?

Yeah.

I don't know how he's stayed

on his feet this long.

So your poor daughter.

Will the transplant cure her?

The prognosis is good.

I know she'll have to be on medication

for the rest of her life

but she'll recover.

How and such a terrible thing

happen to an innocent little girl?

With all the suffering

and injustice in the world

I sometimes think that God must hate us.

You know what? You're a kidnapper

and you're a criminal.

So tell me, what do you know about God?

Perhaps nothing.

We are taught to thank God

for the good things that happen to us.

Why then can we not blame him

for the bad things?

That's not how it works. I mean,

I don't hold God responsible.

If anything, I blame myself.

Or if you're like me, you blame God

and you for Isabella's condition.

You do what you want. But then again

- you've always done that, right?

- Enough!

Just remember if you had been able to keep

your pants on, we wouldn't be in this mess.

We all have our sins

that we have to live with, alright?

You certainly have yours.

I have mine.

It's thrilling for the wealthy

to come down to the slums

and bet on the poor boys

killing each other. It's disgusting.

Getting in?

No problem.

The fights are an open secret.

They collect a fee

from anyone with money.

See those guys over there?

They are triad security.

Some are local police on the take.

- Be careful.

- Yeah. Keep the engine running.

I'm coming.

No. Not here.

Listen...

I'm sorry what I said before about you

being a kidnapper and a criminal.

It's true I was.

At a very early age

you were taught about God

- and I was taught darker things.

- Wait!

That's him. Drake.

He's not picking up!

It's probably too noisy in there.

- Where are you going?

- I'm going to warn him.

Here. Take it.

Be careful with that.

I'll keep trying him.

Hello?

I'm so sorry.

- Who hired you?

- His name Drake. That's all I know.

He's English. Ex-SAS.

I know him from the club.

He was a customer.

He asked me to do it for a price.

A big price. $30,000 American.

- How did you get in touch with him?

- I didn't.

He called me and his caller ID

was always blocked so...

Look... it was only for the money.

I wanted the money so that I could buy out

my contract with Zoltan and get out.

Out of the club.

Out of... out of this life.

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