Suicide Squad Page #5

Stand down!

Colonel, for the record, this is exactly

what I was concerned about!

What's for dinner?

Ames, if this man shoots me...

I want you to kill him...

And I want you to go

clear my browser history.

See...

The firing pin is filed down, right?

Mag full of dummy rounds.

If I pull the trigger, nothing happens.

You're absolutely right.

Why would we give a loaded weapon

to an infamous hitman?

Go ahead, pull the trigger.

Empty it.

Don't empty nothing.

You don't even know this lady.

I've known you,

like, nine months.

Remember when I brought you that cookie?

That was a real cookie.

Aw, sh*t.

What?

Sh*t.

Oops

Oh...

Y'all jokers must be crazy.

All right.

Now you know what you're buying.

Let me tell you the price.

First...

I want outta here.

Second, I want full custody

of my daughter.

All right?

And her mom can have like...

Supervised visits.

But her stank ass boyfriend can't come.

Darnell can't come.

- Darnell's out.

- He's out.

Third, y'all gonna pay for

my daughter's whole education.

Best schools.

And then I want her

to go to college

like Harvard or Yale.

- Ivy league.

- Ivy league, yeah.

- One of them big joints, you know?

- Mm-hm.

And if she can't cut it,

and her grades start slipping,

- I need you to white-people that thing.

- Mm-hm.

- You know how y'all do.

- Oh yeah.

You know, right?

Okay.

Now that's my price.

But I'm concerned, 'cause I don't

see nobody writing sh*t down.

You're in no position

to make any demands.

Oh.

I'm sorry.

You thought I was talking to you.

No, errand boy.

I'm talking to your boss.

That's my price, sweetie.

You know what it is.

You notice these are criminals?

Mm.

They're psychotic antisocial freaks.

It makes no sense.

Let me hit the tier one units

and I'll build you

a team of pipe hitters who'll do

anything you can dream up.

I mean, you need real soldiers.

Not these scumbags.

In World War 2, the US Navy

made a deal with the mafia

to protect it's ships

on the waterfront.

This ain't World War 2.

It's World War 3.

What are you really up to?

It's a "need to know", and, all you

need to know is you work for me.

That can change with a phone call.

I have friends too, you know.

There you go.

Call'em.

But without you minding her,

your lady friend stays here

strapped to a board

in a drug-induced coma.

They warned me about you.

My dumbass didn't believe the stories.

Nobody does.

Where is she?

It's complex.

This is not just her.

Everybody's disappeared.

There's this new law,

where if you're a bad enough bad guy,

they stamp "terrorist" on your jacket.

They send you to

this swamp in Louisiana.

A black site.

That's where she is.

Rate this script:3.6 / 7 votes