xXx: Return of Xander Cage

You know how I came up with the idea

for the Triple-X program?

Skateboards and swimming pools.

Skateboards used to be stuck on the ground.

Adolescent transportation. Then 1977 happens.

Big drought hits Southern California.

Got so bad, rich suburbanites couldn't

afford to fill their swimming pools.

That's when the light clicked on.

Some kid figured out he

could skate those empty pools

and get some real nasty air.

Dogtown and Z-Boys.

You ever seen it? It's a movie.

Doesn't matter.

Anyhow, our hero starts

doing things on a board

that no one's ever seen before.

Things the world thought were impossible.

Now, that kid needed that drought.

The world needed those empty pools.

That's why Triple-X.

Do you feel safer today

than you felt yesterday?

I know I don't.

The biggest, most expensive

military in the world,

and we're still scared of shoe and

tighty-whitey bombs at the airport.

Why is that?

Because soldiers are built

to take orders and fight wars.

But we, my friend, are not at war.

We are at peril.

That's why Triple-X.

What's the matter? You on a diet?

You ain't hungry?

So? It's lunch or dinnertime somewhere

in the world. Come on, eat up!

You know who does feel safe?

The men in charge. The world beaters.

The top-shelf, par excellence ayatollahs

with all the "dollahs. "

And that's because those righteous bastards,

somewhere along the way,

made a deal with the devil.

They traded liberty for safety.

And us, we the people,

ended up losing both. That's why Triple-X.

While everybody else is stuck on the ground,

we're doing sh*t on the board

nobody's ever even seen before.

Well, that's my pitch.

I always was a better spy than a salesman.

So, what do you say?

My bad.

So, I'll leave you be, then.

Who said there's no such thing

as a free meal?

Down on the ground, now!

Give me the money!

Don't move!

Hurry up!

Goal!

And you say you're no hero.

I got to call bullshit on that!

You're exactly the kind

of hero the world needs.

At the end of the day, it comes down to

the same question I've been asking my wife

every Friday night for the last 20 years.

Do you want some of this?

Or are you just gonna...

Access granted.

Okay, you may sit.

Gentlemen,

this is the device that crashed

the satellite and killed Gibbons.

Nerds in the lab have coined it

"Pandora's Box. "

My team backtracked the satellite's

last signal input to Miami.

Some a**hole living the high life

at the Ritz-Carlton penthouse

thought he could hold the world ransom.

Three flashbangs, two bullets,

and one body bag later,

we took custody of the device.

We must have over 100 redundancies in place

to prevent some punk with a laptop

from hijacking satellites.

And Pandora's Box can bypass all of them.

With the push of a button,

it can eavesdrop on secure communications,

corrupt military software,

transmit false intelligence,

or crash a satellite out of the sky

like a goddamn tactical warhead.

One of you is behind this.

And I am not leaving here

until I find out who.

You fight me with a book?

Here you go, brother. Chapter one!

Page one!

Sh*t happens.

You're late!

Just in time, boss.

They bust in here, step on our throats,

and take the one device

that can cause a global power shift.

So, how do we get it back?

These a**holes just took out the best

of the best like it was Sunday brunch.

We need someone who can move

like them, fight like them.

We need someone who can walk into a tornado,

and come out the other side

like it was a damn gentle breeze.

You know someone like that?

No.

But Gibbons did.

What you doing? That's loco, chico!

Xander!

Xander!

Whoo!

And here we go, we are underway!

Go, go, go.

Of course, Xander Cage

can't pay the satellite company,

just like a regular guy.

What?

And line the pockets

of some boardroom billionaires?

You know,

these days, a regular guy

can't afford to be regular.

Let's go.

World getting smaller?

I know the feeling.

Running from your problems never works out.

You need a new plan.

I need a new map.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Oh, boy.

Here we go again.

Down! Get down! Don't move, a**hole!

On your knees now, you son of a b*tch!

Okay, okay. I want to comply.

I really wanna comply.

But you're confusing me.

"Don't move, you a**hole. "

"On your knees, you son of a b*tch. "

Which is it?

- You have three seconds to comply!

- You're not good at this.

One!

Two!

Okay!

Come on out, Frankenstein!

Gibbons! Gibbons?

Olly-olly-oxen-free.

Wow. You really do look different, Gibbons.

Did you lose weight?

Augustus always had such, well,

not exactly nice things to say about you.

When did you realize it was all fake?

You mean the clown show?

You had a guy over there wearing $1,000 Beats

when you can buy the knockoff

for half the price.

Or the lady that was running to catch

a bus that doesn't leave for two hours.

Or the security guard over there

buying a soda with foreign currency?

Oh, you know what the kicker was?

Clarence from It's a Wonderful Life.

- The nice old man that you had sit down

- next to me with the bag of bombs?

Just happened to know I spoke English.

Go figure.

- The bullets could've been real.

- Then the body armor would've been real.

I don't know you, but...

I don't like to be tested.

Gibbons never believed you were dead!

Never stopped looking for you.

Hell of a friend.

Yeah, well, the joke's on him.

'Cause we were never friends.

Oh, trust me, he's not laughing.

Nor will he ever again, for that matter.

I've never seen anything like it.

This group is lethal, and they don't

care who or what gets in their way.

I was hoping you'd be interested

in headlining the next fight card.

Seventy feet across, 90 feet down.

Three inches of security glass?

No rope. No line. No chute.

I bet they had a blast.

We ran facial IDs

on every database in the world.

Nothing. Not even a match

on a speeding ticket.

They're ghosts, in a day and age where

that kind of thing is almost impossible.

Okay,

you get that I don't work for suits.

What makes you think I'm gonna

want to ruin all their fun?

Well, if you won't do it for me,

do it for Gibbons.

Your country needs you, Mr. Cage.

The Triple-X program needs you.

It's time to be a patriot.

By whose definition?

The last time I was patriotic,

I got three strikes.

And there was only one man

who believed in the underdog.

Patriotism is dead.

There's only rebels and tyrants now.

So, which are you?

I'm Triple-X.

Well, welcome back, Triple-X.

Uh, where are you going?

- London.

- Why? What's in London?

A ghost hunter.

And possibly my fur coat.

I'd forgotten how beautiful

the view is up here.

Oh, I, uh, see you found your coat.

Well, you promised to take care of it for me.

And I did.

So, I'm looking for someone.

Since when have we had

a business relationship?

I get caught even touching a computer,

my ass goes away for 20.

Name your price.

You know I'm good for it.

Information like this doesn't have a price.

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote