Kiler Page #2

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Four born killers,|armed to the teeth.

I, my AK-47, my pony...

- How was it?|- I was shot dead.

Start talking|like a killer, damn it!

If he said, he is taxi driver | and live in night

it doesn't mean he lives|off the taxi alone.

His contractors paid well|for his hits.

The police know those people?

We know a lot|and we'll know more...

You know sh*t!

I can say any more.

So let me tell you|what I've found out.

One of Killer's clients

was the boss of the Polish|underworld,

Stefan Siarzewski, alias Siara.

He must've had Andrzej G.|(Guillotine) killed.

What d'you say to that?

You're dead, you TV slut!

You said Killer was|the media invention.

Sorry, just a trick of the trade.

Outta here soon|and I got some savings.

Enough to off Big Ear.

I chip in.

I don't get it.

Piece of cake for you.

Pardon?

Do him in|and take all I have.

- All I have.|- I'll think about it.

Is that Killer?

That sad sack is no Killer.

Sad sack?|That's what you are!

They say Killer has already|killed an inmate.

He choked him with a salt|shaker. With the cap, that is.

The shaker or the cap?

The perforated cap.

Where're they moving him?

To maximum security.

- Where exactly?|- This I can't say.

Maybe you don't know?

I do, but I won't say.

She is a gey! |I get it right away

by soul and body| that her gey moving

I can kiss her heands| and even eat her fork

And later in bathroom | clean yourself by soap

Hey!

What's up?

Why have we stopped?

Must be the fuel pump!

You think so?

Must be the fuel pump!

It's the fuel pump all right.

So from use thise break| Can i go piss?

My bladder will bust!

A true killer got no bladder.

What has he got, then?

A true killer has a pump.

But the pump's busted.

What shall I do?

Piss in to your pants| Killer.

I'AM PISSING!

I can't hear.|Must be the pump.

Stay put. Could be a trap.

Sending reinforcements.|Ten-four?

- I must to toilet(killer)|- That's a ten roger.

Who wants to piss?

Is onlly Killer.

- Tell him to piss his pants.|- I said that before.

I PISSING HERE!!!

Hi, who's the idiot in charge?

Actually, I am.

You know who's in there?

Actually, I do.

Great.

You know who'll write|a report to the minister?

Actually, I don't.

Me

I will and won't even mention|a fuel pump.

And guess about who will be| that report?

But...

We're taking|the prisoner along.

I don't want piss any more| thank you very much

I f*** you

What did you say?

Actually, nothing.

O my god! I thought|you looked different!

Come on in, Killer!

With a cold hand|and a warm heart.

Skinny, free him!

Name's Skinny.

I like you, 'cause|you got balls, like me.

One thing bothers me, though.

- May I ask you something?|- Shoot, Stefan.

How come they catch you?

You always took good cover.

On alert as a prairie-dog|and cautious as a May-bug.

You done so many hits

and I never even saw you.

By phone, fax, e-mail,|but never in person.

How come the blues sniffed?

Wish I knew thise too.

Why, you don't sus me!

Like I say,|I wish I knew.

I seen shadow of eagle|he climp up like a wind

- Is Fish calling Aquarium.|- I copy you.

- How was the trip?|- That fuel pump again.

What you mean?

You are kidding?|State Security took him 3h ago.

What? 3 h. ago?! |So where they are now?!

Now? They can be even in Hamburg

Rain is not calm

Hug strong orchard

And we on thise war|couple long year's

We back to home| so warm ho..

What is it, Stefan?

Why this crying?

Must be hard and not soft.

I'm all alone in this world.

Like a pinky, I got nobody.

Only criminal's around me.

I'm all alone.

You're a very nice guy,

a very nice killer.

Your health, my one|and only hitman.

Go thru it all alone... | Go thru it all aloune...

Don't turn your heart|to a stone...

We must be|ourself et last...

Hush!

I trust nobody but you.

What you want?

And what?| maybe I'am not in home?

Where've you been, slut?

Won't you introduce me?

With pleasure.

My wife, a slut she goes out.|My best friend.

Care for a sandwich|or fried eggs?

Fry your tits!

You know who that is?|Mr. Killer himself!

He eats chateaubriand, oysters,|anything he wants,

not your sloppy sandwiches!

Killer?|Gabrysia Siarzewska.

Glad to meet you.|Name's Jurek.

It's a pleasure to meet you.

Beat it.|We got business to do.

That Gabrysia... your lady?

- Her name's Rysia.|- Then why Gab-rysia?

'Cause she's stupid.

From a singles' bar.

There's no Killer as such.

He's a media invention.

Who shoots then?|This is Ewa Szanska...

That b*tch I don't like!|A TV slut!

Why?

Very nice and pretty.

That slut is on your tail|and you say she's pretty?

Cause she is.

- You think so?|- I do.

Here's an offer.

Off her and I'll pay you|as if she were President.

You flipped?| Thise is woman

I don't kill women!

Especially beautiful ones.

Thise is beautiful?|You ain't seen nothing yet.

Siara.|That's a ten roger.

Go and watch TV.

Listen Killer.

I left nothing to chance|and had it all planned.

What friend would|I've been to

without a chance|for you to pay me back?

Thanks, Siara.

It would've looked I dissed you.

But I respect you more|than my folks and partners.

What do I do for you,|my friend Siara?

You'll get a car,|a VIP suite in town,

a piece you like,|and some cash for starters.

What do I do?

Two jobs, big and small.

The small one?

That Szanska from TV|drives me crazy.

And the big one?

A tougher act.|Only two days for it.

Who's the mark?

Ferdinand Lipski...

Make it look|like a car accident.

Very difficult|but could be done.

One more thing.

Ferdinand Lipski got|something I want back.

A bill of 2000 Colombian pesos.

Actually, a half of it,

which is very important.

Hi, Killer, got a sec?

Not really, I'm already late.

The son-of-a-b*tch must|bite the dust.

- Holy sh*t, who's that?|- My husband.

That's not my bag.

My ex. I got some dough...

I'll be right back.|Then you'll tell me.

I'll check my agenda|and squeeze you in.

Thanks. You're real cool.

- Well?|- He's agreed!

What do I tell Minister,|the media, and the public?

You're a laughingstock!

You can't handle anything!

Your future|is in your shitty hands.

Get the f*** out! And don't you|show up without Killer!

- And that's that.|- Yes, sir.

Fish?

You're staying.

Killer is your problem.

You know what they say?

Wanna kick ass?|A cop is best.

He won't hit back|cause he's scared.

Scared? He just can't.|It's illegal.

Exactly! So from now on,|screw the law!

- Can I?|- You must!

We need Killer| like lucky

Not because some|scum's dead| this is even better

The number of killers in|jail must tally.

People must feel safe,|and the police must be respected.

Else we're in over our heads!

- You must be a bull-terrier!|- I will be.

- A raging bull!|- I will.

Like Tommy Lee Jones,|in 'Fugitive'!

- I will.|- Yeah! So get f*** out!

The police is after a dangerous|criminal, Jurek Killer,

suspected of forty|contract killings,

who fled while convoyed.

Did I hear right?

How much for thise p*ssy| what go there? 300000'?

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