R.I.P.D. Page #3

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You gotta get comfortable with the

visuals and the smell profile.

All right.

Go on!

Spread 'em.

Come on, let's go.

Hurry up, let's

get this over with.

Once they pop,

they know it's over.

Right, pal?

Put all your hands

behind your back.

Stupid space cuffs.

Hey!

No!

You want it?

Ah!

You got it!

Nick! Grab him!

Get the rest of him!

Contain!

Holy sh*t.

Giddyup, pony!

Whoa! No, no!

Relax your body!

What?

Relax body!

Give me a reason.

Doesn't have to be

a good one.

Actually, doesn't

even have to make sense.

Fun, right?

You might have noticed

we're pretty durable.

It still hurts.

That's why

rook's the bottom.

Bottom.

Bottom!

Okay-

Iguessthafs

emotionally understandable.

You're really gonna

rummage through that?

Brief after-action report.

Now, you were below

average in the room,

but you did respond well to my

steering during the airborne portion.

Your internal organs provided

me a very soft landing.

You have a very

impressive crumple zone.

With the exception

of letting yourself

get attached

directly to the beastie...

Stop talking.

...you were solid.

C- plus.

Stop talking.

Just doing my job.

Stop it. Stop talking!

You're the one

who's talking.

You ran your mouth

at my funeral.

You ran your mouth when you

pushed me out of a building,

and used my body

as a cushion.

You've run your mouth non-stop

since the minute we met!

I think I know

what's going on here.

No,no,no!Shut up! You

shut up and let me deal.

All right, you deal.

Deal with the upchuck.

Come to think of it,

with all this tantrumery,

I'm beginning to think that I might

have been a little too generous

with the "plus" on that C.

I mightjust have

to lower your grade.

Relax body.

My hat!

My hat!

My hat!

New grade. F!

The bus, I can forgive.

My hat? I can't even

talk about that now.

Let's go, go, go!

Time is a factor. Let's go.

What the hell is this?

A fire drill?

Ineverseenit

this busy.

Seems like every Deado

moved to Boston last week.

What did I say?

Get back out there.

No breaks for anyone until

this surge is under control.

If I didn't need you

back on the streets...

What? You'd have my ass?

Don't be a clich.

You let him get out the window.

Aren't you better than that?

You're the one who put me

with training wheels, here.

But go on, make a show.

Be the boss.

You still have a hard time with

the "boss" part, don't you?

You played the game,

got what you wanted.

I don't play the game.

And my ass is

mine and mine alone!

Eagerly noted!

Come on.

It's flat, anyway.

Roy, Nawicki was trying awfully

hard to protect this gold.

Don't you think we should try

to figure out what it is?

Trust me,

it's nothing.

Ninety-nine percent of

these things are just

fundraising items

for various religions.

Just crap.

What about

the one percent?

That's why we

lock them up in here.

Bag it,

tag it and bury it deep.

Is that all of it?

That's it.

Sign here, please.

Roy, listen.

What?

Nawicki cared an awful

lot about that gold.

Yeah.

He was trying to

hide it from us. Why?

So, now

you're all gung-ho, huh?

I'm thinking

we should follow up.

Let me guess.

Genius has a plan.

Genius wants to get out on

the street and work this.

I think that you

can help me with that.

You know why? Because every

great cop that I've ever known

has their own informant.

Big Roy...

Big Roy,

he's gotta have one.

You want an informant?

Big Roy's got

the best informant.

Now batting for the

Red Sox, number 34, David Ortiz.

Elliot.

He's a pain-in-the-ass Deado.

All he cares about

is the Sox.

So, I let him stick around

in exchange for information.

Here.

You're in mourning.

You got a hole to fill.

You know, I can't

taste anything.

Of course not,

you're dead.

R.I.P.D. don't eat,

we don't sleep.

You're here to kick Deado

ass, that's about it.

Then why would

you eat this?

I enjoy the mouth feel.

How's it going, Elliot?

We're up.

But they're hitting like

crap. We'll blow it.

Knock yourself out.

Hello, Elliot.

One of your buddies was willing

to get erased for this.

Why?

Rook.

That belongs in evidence.

I thought you were

some kind of rebel, Roy.

I fought for the North.

Would you mind terribly if I

got back to my investigation?

Go continue

your investigation.

Tell me what

this is, Elliot.

That looks like

a big hunk of gold.

Uh-huh. That's not gonna

cut it. Try again.

Hey! Hey! Get

your hands off me!

You behave

yourself now, Elliot.

Because of me, you're sitting there

all cozy and not lying in a pine box.

Not walking the desert, trying to

get your femur back from a coyote.

You cops

are all the same.

Always obsessing

about how you bit it.

How was your funeral,

newbie?

Did you cry when they gave your wife

that nice folded-up flag?

Hey-

That's fun, right?

I think we both know there's

no Red Sox on the other side,

so why don't

you cooperate?

I apologize for

my poor attitude.

May I take

a closer look, sir?

You may.

Look, I'm sorry to disappoint,

but this is crap.

Look, Deados,

they're sentimental.

A lot of them believe

in this talismanicjunk.

If it was something else, there'd

be some chatter out there.

I would know.

All right,

we're done here.

These hats are crap.

Keep your ears

open for me.

Yes, sir.

You gave him the gold?

Did you see him squirm?

We got him.

"Got him"? What do you

mean, "we got him"?

What did we get?

Tell you what he got,

he got the gold!

Which you gave him!

What the hell is

the matter with you?

I'm pissed about my hat.

Well, then.

Looky, looky.

I'm gonna treat you to a

little modern law enforcement.

This is called

"giving the dog a bone. "

Bones?

What's he doing?

Okay, that's weird,

because that looks

exactly like your ex-partner.

The one

who shot you dead.

Okay, I'm interested.

Color me interested.

This must be

chafing you, huh?

First, the guy smoked

you like a knockwurst,

and now he's got guys

just handing him gold.

Let me think,

just let me think.

What's there to think about? The man's

just schooling you left and right.

Your own partner.

And the trifecta.

Sleeping with your wife.

Because this is

your house, isn't it?

Total humiliation.

It's just a pants-down

spanking in the supermarket.

He's not sleeping with Julia.

Want to bet?

Yeah, let's.

Winner shoots the loser in the

face as many times as he wants.

I'm not 100 percent

confident with my read.

Some cannolis from Mike's.

I was thinking

how Nick used to

make us stop and

get them for you.

Thank you.

Thank you, Bobby.

Hey, Julia, did Nick

seem all right to you?

I mean, was he

concerned about anything?

No.

Okay. Okay.

Why?

I'm sorry I got

to do this now.

Nick said

he buried something.

If he's not sleeping with her, it's

kind of funny he's here, isn't it?

Unless you guys

have a pact where he

scrubs the porn off

your laptop for you.

I get that.

Classy, actually.

He gave this to me.

He knew I wanted it.

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