Death Race: Beyond Anarchy Page #2

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So your story, is that one unarmed man

took out you and your gang,

and pushed in my landing tax?

I'm sorry, Frank.

I'll do better next time.

There is no next time here in

the Sprawl, you know this.

You got sad here for killing cops,

and you can't handle one con?

Like I said, I am sorry Frank.

I'll do better next time.

He just got lucky.

Every piece of silver you collect,

goes right back to the Sprawl.

When my landing tax goes

uncollected, the city suffers.

Do you like to suffer?

I don't like to suffer, Frank.

That's him. That's the mother f***er!

- Hey, Bex.

- This guy is looking for Baltimore Bob.

'Course he is.

Connor Gibson, meet Jane.

It's good to meet you, Jane.

He is all yours, chica.

I'mma go dance on the pole.

So,

where's you moving from?

Long Beach.

What are you in it for?

Does it matter?

Does, for me.

I'm here because I'm here,

just like everyone else.

One of my tax collectors told me

you attacked him and then robbed him.

It's not exactly how it went down.

Enlighten me, convict.

Kill him Frank!

Your boy and his pals

tried to jump me.

Yet you're the one who walked away.

I didn't say they were any good on it.

Let me whack him Frank.

He's nothing but a couple of drops of

sprouted from a sh*t filled

crack in the sidewalk.

Have we met before?

I don't think so.

I just got here.

And if we had, I wouldn't know.

You're hiding behind a mask.

This is my city.

No one speaks to me like that.

Kill that motherf***er!

Listen, you accuse me of stealing,

and I didn't steal anything.

I defended myself.

It's not my fault your boys weren't

up to the fight they picked.

Watch your back convict.

You're definitely

not from Long Beach.

You're making a habit to punch

above your weight... Convict!

Word is, you're looking for me.

Baltimore Bob?

Your balls must be

made out of titanium.

I've never seen anyone

talk to Frank like that.

You drive?

Yeah, I drive.

So, what are you in here for, Bob?

Let's just say I help people transition.

Press called me Dr Kill.

I was an oncologist.

Yeah, I read about you.

You saved 400 dying people.

Yeah, 432, and not all

of 'em were dying.

Some were living inconsequential lives,

and in as such they were already dead.

Come on, come on!

Get the truck!

The food is property of Frankenstein!

What the hell are they doing?

Feeding time.

Disciples of Frank.

They hijack the food shipments

and control the supply.

If you keep the populous hungry

they are easy to control.

Where do all the weapons

and cars come from?

Handmade, home-made,

we lick the bottom of the pad.

And we salvage whatever

sticks to our tongues.

Keep away from the meat,

all your motherf***er!

Die, motherf***er!

F*** you, Nazi f***!

You are the one

everybody's talking about?

News travels fast huh?

Small town, really.

Two hundred and twenty

six thousand to be exact.

We have about

19,000 deaths a year and...

22000 come over the wall.

Sorry, I'm doing it again.

Connor Gibson, meet Lists.

So what am I watching here?

It where the non-racers compete

for a spot in Death race.

How do you get a spot?

You have to win the Death Match.

Let the Death Match begin!

Our first contestant is all the way

from New York City, New York.

She's a killer and a thief,

and one sexy little b*tch of F.

Give it up for Gipsy Rose!

Next up, born in the tall corn and chicken

droppings of Oxford, Mississippi,

- We have a psychotic...

- Who is the girl?

Frank's main squeeze.

You know, standard guard

and parade pleasure model.

Carley J'adore, it's her stage name.

She was charged with

17 counts of human trafficking,

eight counts prostitution, and another

five counts of false imprisonment.

She is an ex cheerleader.

Ex porn star.

Exactly.

Never did a day's work vertical.

On your mark,

Get set, and die!

Kill, kill!

Kill, kill!

- I can't hear you!

- Yes!

Shut your f***ing...

Yes! Yes!

Don't pick a fight with Godzilla

because you think you

know how to throw a punch.

Sleep on it.

You still want death race tomorrow?

We'll talk.

Hey, Long Beach.

Got a bottle.

Could use some company.

- Nice in here.

- Thanks.

Go ahead and ask.

Everybody always ask.

It's kind of like the

"what's your star sign" line in here.

I'm guilty.

I wasn't gonna ask.

Yeah, which I would've

found out anyway.

There's no secret

here in this Sprawl.

I married a really great guy,

who turned out to be

not such a great guy.

He beat me up a couple of times.

I forgave him.

The market crashed,

he lost his job,

smacked me around a bit more.

I forgave him again.

And then one day,

I didn't forgive him.

I shot him nine times.

You know my one regret though?

That I didn't shoot the bastard ten.

Do you still wanna

not boots with me?

I never said I didn't.

Okay.

Wasn't really out

for the taking anyway.

I just needed somebody to

finish this bottle with.

and you're,

some... mysterious guy

from Long Beach, right?

Get some sleep.

Couch is yours if you want it.

Welcome to the Green house.

This is Baltimore Bob's

one of a kind creation.

Inspired by the Chinese Solar

greenhouse designs with CO2 enrichment.

Pesticide free,

and totally 100% organic.

This is where we

make the ethanol,

and Bob is constantly

tinkering with the recipe

to deliver a high-octane brew.

It's got 20 times more kick than the

water downed petrol

from outside the wall.

He is like the OPEC of the Sprawl.

And he is not in Frank's pocket?

They have an arrangement.

He provides fuel,

and Frank...

reciprocate with some

protection and a few other parks.

We eat a little bit

better than the rest.

You slept on it?

I did.

Let's say you have the skills.

Death race is for

sociopaths, the killers.

You gotta have grumble in your guts.

You have to live for the smell of,

motor oil and high octane fuel.

You gotta love the sound

of rubber on asphalt

and taste of blood in your mouth.

And when you go to sleep at night,

I mean that deep real sleep,

the sound of bullets wheezing past

your head should give you comfort.

So, Mr. Strong and Silent,

you made of that stuff?

If I'm not, then I die, right?

So you want a shot?

I'm getting you a shot.

Tonight.

Death Pit.

Be ready to fight!

Welcome to the Dead Pit,

your degenerate convicts.

Tonight the final death match promises

to be the bloodiest one yet.

The carnage is about to begin.

So take your seat and get ready

for the wildest ride yet.

Hello?

Hi, old friend.

Lists, my buddy,

what do you got for me?

There is a new guy.

This is his first death match, but

Baltimore Bob says, he can fight.

He could be a challenger.

What's his story?

Connor Gibson,

in for felony whatever.

Two counts, six counts, who's counting?

He is in here with the rest of us.

I wish I had a few more

bullet points for you but

he is a question mark.

Why don't you send me the link,

and I'll... Uh check him out.

Wait. Before you go,

we are running short on spare parts,

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