Morning, Harold.
You're still alive?
You look like hell, Slick. Have a rough night?
- Dispatch said there were shots fired. - Yeah, crazy bastard up in the rocks there.
Chucked a couple of shots at the dozer.
He almost killed me.
- Who is he? - Old Apache.
They call him Bogus Charlie. Thinks he's a medicine man.
Says we're raping his mother by poking holes in the earth.
You got any ideas?
Well, he's only shot at the dozer, but he could change his mind.
I had to call in the state police. They'll be here any minute now.
What the hell are you doing?
I'm taking a walk.
That's fucking nuts.
Maybe.
Hey, Roy? You better get the hell out of here.
How you doing?
Never better.
You know, I was thinking.
If you gave me that rifle and offered to pay for the damage,
I could say you were out here hunting and hit the equipment by mistake.
You want jerky?
We don't have time. The state cops will be here in a few minutes.
- So if you'll just give me that rifle. - Sit down.
Whatever you say.
You don't look so good, kid.
Something bothering you, something inside, right?
Are you gonna give me the rifle?
You know, my grandfather told me a story once...
about a young brave who got scared of his shadow...
- And ran away from it. - Look...
I told you, sit still.
Anyway...
This young brave found out he was only half a person without his shadow,
but to get it back...
he had to go down into a dark hole where only shadows live.
Problem was, anybody went down there...
never came back.
You've just run out of time, old man.
If you give me the rifle right now, we can still keep you out of jail.
Something else my grandfather told me...
a true Apache had to do when surrounded...
- and outnumbered by crazy white men. - What's that?
Give the fuck up.
So, you gonna tell me what's bothering you?
No, I just haven't been able to sleep much lately.
Kelly, ain't it?
I know it is. Been on you like shit on a shovel.
- You ought to be more careful around him. - He's an asshole.
But he is the fucking boss.
There.
- What the hell is this? - Well, open it up, find out.
- You wrap this yourself, Butch? - Sure did.
I guess I'll have to keep it, whatever the hell it is.
I had that when I was a little kid.
Thought it might cheer you up if you played with it for a while.
You're a very strange and crazy old man, you know that?
I do. I sure know that.
Got to go.
Why don't you lay out, turn the radio off and get some rest.
I'll cover for you, Slick.
- That's what partners are for. - Thanks, Butch.
Adios.
You son of a bitch. You're just like your mother.
It's in your fucking blood!
Why did you stop me?
For speeding.
- I wasn't speeding. - Yes, you were.
- No, I wasn't. - I'm afraid you were.
May I see your license, please?
You have a nice face.
- Excuse me? - Good bones.
Where you going in such a hurry, miss Jackson?
- What difference does that make? - I'll ask the questions, okay?
Okay. I'm going to the campground.
- All this photo equipment yours? - Of course not.
That's why I'm carrying it around with me.
- You don't have to be a complete smart ass. - You gonna write me a ticket, or what?
Get out of here! Now!
This is car number 50.
We'll take care of all the damages, plus ten percent.
And put a little something extra in there for you, Kelly.
Yeah! You did!
- I appreciate that, man, I really do. - I know you do.
Now if there's anything else we can do for you.
- Anything at all. - Forget it.
You're in my fucking way.
Who in the hell was that?
His name's Blood. He runs that bunch.
- I got a bone to pick with you, Saxon. - That's a surprise.
I heard about what you did this morning.
Where do you get off risking your ass over some worthless, drunken Indian?
- He wasn't drunk. - All indians are nothing but drunks.
Look at me when I'm talking to you.
You fucking...
crazy, stupid son of a bitch!
- You're fucking fired. - Bob, don't do that.
Shut the fuck up, Butch, or I'll fire your ass too! Is that what you want?
- That's your call, sir. - You're goddamn right it is!
Come on.
- Yeah? - I'm Conroy Price, Mr. Saxon.
Special investigator of division Arizona attorney general's office.
I have a proposition for you.
- Does this turtle ever move? - What do you want, Price?
I'm forming an undercover narcotics operation.
I'm looking for a field officer. You're the man I need.
How do you figure that?
I know everything there is to know about you.
Really?
Dan Saxon isn't your real name.
You were born William Patrick Steiner in Manhattan on June 24, 1966.
Your father was a pipe fitter.
Your mother was a full-blooded chippewa Indian.
You were orphaned when you were 3 and raised by your maternal uncle, a policeman.
Shall I go on?
Who the hell are you?
I told you. I'm with the attorney general's office.
Let me give you my card.
I'll put it right here. I'll go on.
Because she was a native american, your uncle hated your mother.
He locked you in a room, handcuffed you and beat you for the next three years.
When you were six years old, you somehow got his gun...
and shot him through the heart six times.
Six times.
A court-appointed psychiatrist testified you have no memory of how it happened.
Severe emotional trauma, he called it.
You know what you did. You just can't remember doing it.
How did you find out?
I can't tell you that, but it was no easy task.
The judge sealed your records when you were adopted.
I'm curious about one thing. Why become a policeman?
That's a strange thing to do under the circumstances,
don't you think?
Then again, maybe not.
What I think is you better get the hell out of here.
- Let me finish. - You gonna leave or do I throw you out?
I can find my own way out.
Will you think about it?
I don't want your goddamn job.
Maybe not. But I think you need it.
Something tells me you have some unfinished business with a blue uniform.
Get the fuck out of here!
I knew you'd change your mind.
Well, you ever mention my past again, I'll fucking kill you.
- Done. - Where do we start?
Here's $20,000. Sign the receipt.
When you make a buy, I'll give you more.
Also instructions on tagging evidence, drop point procedures...
and some numbers where I can be reached.
Memorize and destroy them. When you want to see me, we meet here.
And nobody knows you're undercover but me.
- I mean nobody. - I'm gonna have to move.
I'll rent you a place in Phoenix. I want you to grow a mustache and change your appearance.
You're an ex-cop. If anybody recognizes you, they'll probably kill you on spec.
Would you miss me, Price?
You can forget the jokes. I have no sense of humor.
I never have. I tried several times to develop one.
Even took a workshop. But it didn't work.
Put quite simply, nothing is funny to me. - That's funny.
Here's a list of all the bars and known hangouts for the drug trade.
I want you to make yourself seen, spend some money.
Do whatever is necessary to get people to trust you, short of committing a felony.
Do that and the whole operation goes out the window.
Now before we go on, there's something I have to tell you. - What?
My predecessor sent two undercover officers into Gila county last year.
Both disappeared without a trace.
Like they were swallowed up by some black hole.
It's important you know what you're up against.
Name's Virgil.
Gonna get shit-faced if you keep drinking that fast, man.
I hope so.
You know, I couldn't help but notice how much money you're dragging around.
I need it to buy dope.
Oh, you know, I figured you for a dealer right off.
- Listen... - Wrong, Virgil.
I'm an undercover narcotics officer.
Get the fuck out of here.
You're a narc?
Well, if you was narc...
And I'm not saying that you are...
But, if you was, you could get your ass dusted for talking about it.
Well, what the hell's the difference? I'm a bust.
Nobody will sell dope to me anyways.
That's because of the way you look, man. I mean, look at you.
If you came up to me and tried to buy dope, I'd peg you for a narc.
A minute ago, you said I looked like a dealer.
Fuck you, asshole. I was trying to be polite.
If I was a narc and I wanted to get into some serious drugs,
I'd hang with bikers.
Bikers control all the heavy dope.
I don't know shit about bikers.
I could teach you. Well, I ain't like a member or nothing,
but they need me.
I work on their bikes.
There ain't nothing about a scooter that I can't fix.
Hell, when I got through with you, you'd walk, talk and shit like a biker.
Why the hell would you do that?
Listen, man. Now this is strictly confidential.
- But I've always wanted to be cop. - Come on.
No, really, man.
You know what I mean? Carrying a fucking gun, arresting people.
That's power. Hell, you could even make me your deputy or something.
Couldn't you?
- Raise your right hand, Virgil. - I do.
Not yet, asshole.
- We got a whole ceremony to do first. - Sorry, man.
Do you solemnly swear to take all of my orders...
never shoot anybody or carry a gun?
- Wait a minute, man. - No guns, Virgil.
Any shooting needs done, I'll handle it.
I'm the narc. You're the fucking deputy.
That ain't fair! How can I arrest anybody if I haven't got a gun?
- Do you swear or not? - Yeah, I guess so, man.
Good.
Then it is with all the power in my office...
that I now pronounce you deputy sheriff.
Oh, man. This is something.
This is really something.
- Are you sure you're a cop? - Where do we start?
Modest beginnings start with a single blow of a horn, man.
Now, when you get through with this thing,
every dick-head in the world is gonna want to own it.
Do you know anything at all about the internal combustion engine?
There's all different kind of bikers, man.
And then there are Jackals. Jackals is the fucking cream.
You don't got to be a rocket scientist to get close to them.
They only got a few rules. But most important is stomping.
Stomping means somebody hits a Jackal, he's gonna have 30 of them on his neck.
A dude asks a Jackal to get out of his house,
he's gonna come back with an army and stomp the bastard to death.
That is one hell of a scooter, dude.
Climb on the fucker. See if it works.
- Really? - Really.
Yes!
These are your fucking colors, man.
- My fucking what? - Your colors.
A biker will fight you to the death if you rat-fuck his colors.
It's the name of your club. You are a member of the Pythons.
I made it up myself, but who the fuck's gonna know?
Come here, come here.
You see this little one percent? This means that you are a member...
of the totally zoned-out, fucked-up, bad-ass, outlaw motorcycle brotherhood.
And this little space right here. That's where your name goes.
Now what do you want to call yourself? Bikers all got nicknames.
How about if I call myself Sid?
- Sid. Sidney? - Yeah. Sid.
- Not fucking Sidney. Sid. - Sid. Sid. Sid.
I like it. It's great. Fucking great. Here. Put it on. Try it on.
- Nope, nope. - What?
Well, you're not dirty enough. You're not crazy enough.
I'm getting really fucking tired of hearing you say that.
Yeah? Well, being tired is a lot better than being dead, man.
I just made that up too.
What the fuck...
Now you're dirty enough.
Meet me tomorrow at Spanish Wells and we'll see how fucking crazy you are.
You son of a bitch.
Base to 528.
All units, '89 red Cadillac Seville, partial plate ID number 7-2-6,
just reported stolen from Denny's parking lot in Linkville.
Hello, dude. What do you think of my new wheels?
You ugly prick!
You just stole this car from the Denny's parking lot in Linkville.
How in the fuck did you know that, man?
- You've involved me in a felony, Virgil. - I was getting bored.
Being a cop ain't everything I thought it was gonna be.
What's that in your belt?
Nothing. - Bullshit! It's a pistol. You swore no guns.
Now take it out and put it on the seat.
I was just trying to have a little fun, man. - Fun?
I ought to kill you! Now follow me back down the hill...
so we can dump this piece of shit before somebody catches us.
Shit!
Want to play, asshole?
Holy shit, man!
Jesus Christ all fucking mighty!
Oh, god!
You're crazy enough now, dude.
You're definitely crazy enough.
So get your shit together. We are going to a fucking wedding.
Don't talk too much today. If somebody gives you a dare, you got to take it.
This is serious. This isn't a game. You fuck up, they're gonna kill you.
So I pick up the fucking Hammer,
and the guy says, you're not gonna hit me with that, are you?
So I say, no way, man. I'm gonna brain your fucking wife.
Oatmeal. How's your head, man?
How the fuck would I know, dildo?
The last contact I had with my head was six fucking years ago.
- What the fuck are you supposed to be? - This is Sid, man.
What's it say on your jacket there, Sid?
Pythons? From Cleveland, fucking Ohio?
Sid, this is Oatmeal. Oatmeal's got the biggest testicles in Arizona.
- Want to crank up the old noggin, Sid? - I'll do it. Thanks.
So, Sid...
what kind of games do they play in Cleveland, Ohio?
Guns, man. We like to play with guns.
You boys got any guns?
Yeah, I guess we got some guns.
Pick yourself out one. We'll shoot some cans.
Or something. You got any money?
Has he got any money? Jesus Christ. Is the pope a Cadillac?
Well, you ain't gonna have it long, Slick.
Your turn.
Who is that?
Some kind of writer doing a book on bikers.
Name's Renee, man. Don't pay no fucking attention to her.
- Go ahead and shoot. - Come on, Sid.
We ain't got all fucking day.
- You missed. - Wrong.
Bullshit, man. You fucking hit a can, it fucking moves.
- You calling me a liar? - I'm calling you worse than a liar.
I'm saying the Pythons are a sissy-ass club.
And you are a chicken-shit dog motherfucker.
- What the fuck you doing, man? - I'm gonna try again, Oatmeal.
I want to make sure the can moves this time.
Geez, what, are you fucking nuts?
Stupid son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill you!
Who the fuck you gonna kill now, blubber guts?
- Jesus. - Who?
I didn't mean nothing, man.
- Okay, who set off the fucking dynamite? - I did.
- It was just a... - Virgil, shut your mouth.
- Who the fuck are you? - His name's Sid, man.
What the fuck did I just say to you? Shut up.
- Absolutely. - What's going on, Sid?
- You rat-fucked my colors. - I was just screwing around.
Get him to back off, Blood.
What are you gonna do?
I think I'm gonna shoot him.
Oh, geez. Oh, man, I didn't mean anything. Please.
- Jesus, please. - Dirt, get her out of here.
Goddamn it, I didn't mean anything. Come on, give me a break.
Fuck! Jesus H. Christ!
You shoot him and I'll blow your motherfucking brains out.
Nobody lives forever.
That's a fact. Now shoot the fucker.
Oh, Jesus, I was just...
I was just fooling around. I'll kiss your fucking colors.
I like your colors. I love your fucking colors. Your colors are wonderful.
Oh, geez, I'm peeing here!
This is supposed to be a wedding here. Now, where's the goddamn bride?
All right, we all came out here today so Bubbles and Highside here can get married.
I want all you fucking assholes to show a little bit of respect.
Do you, Bubbles, swear on this bible you want to let this...
smelly old scuzball, Highside,
- lubricate your cylinder and... - Don't do it!
flush out your oil tank?
I do.
Do you, Highside, want to let this ugly old bag...
handle your great big rod and little roller bearings in the decidedly up-and-down fashion?
- Yeah, what the fuck. - Give the broad some tongue.
We got a very unusual situation here, Sid.
Hey, Blood. How you doing?
Anybody pulls down on my family, they usually end up dead.
But Oatmeal shit on your colors and...
I like loyalty.
So in your case, I guess I made an exception.
- I know you from somewhere, don't I? - I don't think so.
No?
Trust me.
If you met me before, you wouldn't fucking forget it.
Look, man, I want to move some contraband.
Buy it here, sell it in the midwest and people say I got to deal with you.
- Is that right? - What people is that, I wonder?
Oh, you mean I got it all wrong?
Sid...
You're either the dumbest fucker I ever met in my life or...
you got the balls of an elephant.
Which one is it?
You choose.
Well, that's exactly what I'm gonna do,
hotshot.
So dry.
One of these days, it has to rain.
When it rains in the desert, it's like...
everything starts all over again.
You still a cop?
You are, aren't you?
Don't worry. They won't recognize you.
You don't look anything like you used to.
It's still a nice face.
Do you have any idea what would happen if they found out?
What you're doing is very dangerous. You know that?
- Oh, is it? - Never mind.
None of my business.
One piece of advice. Don't underestimate Blood.
He's smart. He'll kill you without a second thought.
Where are you going?
Home.
Can I give you a lift?
I don't think so. I'm strictly a solo act these days.
Besides, don't take it personally,
but I don't think you have much of a future.
Sid?
See that place across the street?
Big-time redneck bar.
Those fucking guys hate bikers, man.
I got 50 bucks says you ain't got balls big enough...
to ride your sled through the front door.
- Man, that's suicide. - Shut up, dildo.
No big deal. I hate rednecks almost as much...
as guys who piss themselves.
- What do you think? Is he gonna do it? - I don't know, man.
Anybody got a light?
What's up, Blood?
- How many guys in the Pythons, Sid? - Enough.
I think I've heard of you guys before. Pythons.
Yeah, I've heard of you guys before. Pythons are cool.
Jackals is better.
- Want to be a Jackal, Sid? - I got my own club.
You want to talk business or are we gonna kiss each other all day?
- Now what do you want to buy? - What's for sale?
Tell him, Dirt.
Everything, man.
Ludes, trees, grass, stars, crank.
- We got labs making the shit. - What about guns?
Any fucking thing you want.
Pogo sticks, foreign jobs. You want a goddamn rocket launcher,
we can get it.
Dirt will show you around tomorrow, but...
until then, I know where there's a party.
And wherever there's a party, there's a lot of cooze.
What do you say, Sid?
You can forget all about that. Everybody I know has tried.
She paid Blood $5,000 to take pictures of the Jackals.
- Blood's gonna be famous. - Shut up!
Don't say anything, don't do anything.
Just fucking sit there.
Let's get the fuck out of here.
You're a real good pool player, man.
- You want to make a little wager? - You mean like a bet?
Only thing is I'm not gonna be doing the actual playing.
- I'm just gonna bet. - Who's gonna play?
She is.
Let me get this straight. You ain't gonna play me? The broad is?
She's gonna play both of you.
- Both of them? - Right.
- How much? - Fifty bucks.
You lose, lady.
You just scratched. We win.
- Better not touch that money. - Why not?
'Cause my friend here will beat the crap out of you.
- Both of you. - Both of them?
You heard her, man.
Get off that stool. Or ain't you got no hair on your cute little ass?
Jesus!
How we doing? - Can you give me a hand here for Christ's sake?
I can hear your heart beat.
Let me know if it stops, will you?
You like Indians?
They have amazing eyes, don't they?
Like they're looking right through you.
So what are you doing tomorrow?
What time is it?
It's only 7:30.
You have to go.
Are you expecting somebody?
No, I... I have to pick up my little girl.
Okay. I'll wait here.
- I don't think that's a good idea. - What's her name?
Marybette. She's six.
She's my... Look, I don't want this to be a problem.
- But I think you should go. - There isn't gonna be any problem, Renee.
You've got a six-year-old daughter named Marybette, and I want to meet her.
How long until you get back?
- I'll be back in half an hour. - I'll be here.
The shower's down the hall. There's coffee in the kitchen.
Half an hour?
Get out of here.
Marybette, she's six.
When you were six.
What are you doing?
I am creating something.
- What is it? - It's a mess.
No, it is not a mess. It is an old, secret recipe...
that is no longer a secret.
Now we have the vanilla ice cream.
And we have the melted peanut butter and grape juice.
And a personal favorite of mine.
Come here.
Pick a hand.
Oreo cookies.
But I prefer them crushed.
We pour the crushed oreos...
into the melted peanut butter,
and we continue to crush them.
Do not overcrush.
Now, voila!
Madame would like a taste?
- You're insane. - I want some.
Would you prefer smoking or non-smoking?
What do you think?
Non-smoking.
This is good.
What, is something bothering you, Virgil?
Fucking Oatmeal, man, keeps calling me a dildo and shit.
I hate it when them guys call me that.
I might be a lot of things, man, but I ain't no fucking dildo.
What exactly is a dildo anyway?
Relax, Virgil. It's just a term of endearment.
- A what? - Let's get out of here.
Hey, Sid. Get your ass up here, man. Come on.
Now, Waldo, this individual that you see before you is the man I've been talking about.
How many months we been working together? Two, three?
Who counts?
Man, I do. I count everything.
By my count, we've been doing pretty well together.
Making lots of money, going along pretty good.
But that's not what I'm talking about and that's not why I'm saying all this.
It's because... I like you, man.
I look at you, I see me.
You know, you're smart, don't take shit from anybody.
I like that.
Except I think you got one small problem.
You got your priorities all fucked up.
You know, maybe like you're a little bit confused.
Confused about what?
I think you got this thing about weakness,
about feeling sorry for weak people.
Otherwise, you wouldn't be hanging around with that freak.
Feeling sorry for anybody is a complete fucking waste of time.
But you do it.
I mean, man, what are you, some kind of a...
knight in shining armor looking for damsels in distress?
Ordinarily, I don't do this because...
you know, I'm the president and I don't sponsor anybody as I didn't think it was right.
But I want to sponsor you for the Jackals.
What do you say?
Let me think about it.
Excuse me?
Let me think about it. Let me give it some thought.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Listen man, I got my own club. Lot of guys depend on me.
Now, what kind of a prick would I be if I turned on them the first time something...
different and better came along?
- Hey, Sid. - Give me that, man.
What the fuck is your problem?
Every time somebody offers Sid some nose candy, you end up with it.
Now, why is that?
What the fuck's wrong with you? You can't get high with your friends?
There is no way you can join the Jackals.
You have to commit a felony in front of two members. It's in their bylaws.
Use your head, Daniel. You're supposed to be a cop.
Oh, is that it?
- For a second, I almost forgot. - God, I hate this weather.
Doesn't it ever rain?
- Okay. What's the matter? - Nothing.
Look, we've only been at this a short time...
and we've succeeded beyond anyone's expectations.
We've logged over 300 pieces of evidence.
Daniel, the director of the FBI called me yesterday.
- Me, personally. I couldn't believe it. - That's great, Price.
I'm really thrilled for you.
You've got a shell around you a mile thick.
Now, you're gonna have to open up to somebody. It might as well be me.
- Now, if I can talk... - Fuck you, man! I don't want to talk to you.
- I'm not even sure if I like you! - Hold on!
- Next week is San Carlos run. - Yeah.
Our calculation is that over 50 motorcycle gangs will be involved.
What's your point?
The FBI wants you to take one of their agents in undercover.
No fucking way!
They have an experienced officer they feel can pass.
Too dangerous!
- There'll be 20 more state cops in marked cars... - I won't do it, goddamn it!
FBI wants to send somebody in, you let them. But he'll fuck up and they'll kill him!
And then you can call the director of the FBI and tell him about it.
You can call him, Price, personally.
I'm not going to San Carlos today. I need to catch up in the darkroom.
Do you remember what happened last night?
You had a nightmare.
I woke up, you were crying like a little kid...
begging somebody to stop hitting you.
I held you for a while. I thought you woke up, but...
you looked at me and you said,
take the handcuffs off.
Jesus.
I'm almost finished here, Dan. I have all the pictures I need.
I'm gonna write the story in L.A.
That's good.
Have you thought about what you're gonna do after this?
I thought maybe we could make...
peanut butter and grape juice drinks for the next few years.
I'm really scared.
Renee, don't worry. I'm okay.
I got to go.
I really am... I'm okay.
I don't think so.
Where'd you get your scooter at?
- Get your fucking hands off me! - Lying motherfucking cocksucker!
- I'll kill you! - That belongs to a brother of mine!
- Piece of shit! - You know what you are? You're a fucking pig!
Pig-sticker motherfucker, that's what you are!
Highside, what the fuck is going on over here?
This worthless piece of shit's a fucking cop.
I know this scooter. It belonged to a brother of mine. FBI confiscated it months ago.
Kill the bastard!
They made him. Let's move!
- The fuck are you looking at, pig? - Take it easy, friend.
- We don't want anybody to get hurt. - Then get the fuck out of my face!
And take the rest of these pigs with you.
Damn, Sid, you were really out there, brother.
- I hate cops, Blood. - Me too.
I hate them more than anything.
Some of those undercover guys are pretty clever.
You ever get conned by one?
I can smell a cop a hundred miles away, man.
Holy shit, man, you got balls that clank.
You get some kind of kick out of pushing like that?
I met a couple of dudes from the Dusters, man. Gonna sell us some heroin on the way back.
How much?
That's the interesting part. As much as we fucking want.
- We're gonna need some wheels though. - Done.
Psycho-fucking-delic!
Thirty grand, on the button. Listen, man, can you give us a lift back to town?
- I want to leave my truck here. - No, man, we're going the other way.
Yeah, we'll take you. Get in.
Hey, man, can't you wait?
Who the fuck waits, man? Commuters wait for trains. I don't wait for nobody.
Do you want a fix first?
No, man, he's safety conscious. You know, like, do not geeze and drive.
- Who do you know in Cleveland, man? - None of your fucking business.
My fucking business?
What fucking street do you live on in Cleveland, man?
Fuck you!
Goddamn it, man!
Kick your fucking ass!
What are you doing?
Goddamn it, man!
Cut it out! Now!
I got an idea. Let's shoot each other.
- You go first. - Holy Jesus, man!
You're crazy.
Let's get the hell out of here.
Get in the car, Virgil. - I don't think so, man. This is where Virgil gets off.
What are you talking about? - You man, that's what the fuck I'm talking about!
I mean, look at this shit. You're fucking nuts!
If you ever was a cop, you ain't a cop anymore.
I mean, no fucking cop in the world does shit like that!
Here, man, you can get yourself a new deputy. I just can't keep up with you no more.
Okay.
I'll see you around...
dildo.
Shit.
Get your hands in the air and get out of the car. Come on, move!
All right, now, you turn around. Do it!
Lock your hands behind your head. You stay right there, asshole.
- Give me your hands. - Take it easy.
- You got any kind of ID? - What the fuck did I do?
What'd you do? You got born, birdbrain!
You got to give me a phone call.
You'll get one when I get around to it!
- You got to give me a fucking phone call! - Sit down, kid.
There's nothing you can do.
Charlie?
Bogus Charlie?
I know you?
You told me a story about an Indian who ran away from his shadow, remember?
Oh, yeah. You don't look like the same...
Why did you tell me that?
I don't know. Jesus Christ, you're choking me!
I'm sorry.
The Indian in the story, what happens to him?
He goes down into his hole and finds his shadow.
A moon woman sews it back on for him.
But before he can climb back out he has to meet...
Who?
- Look, kid, it's just a story... - Who does he have to meet?
Death.
I got to get the fuck out of here.
You spit in my face, you beat a federal agent almost half to death.
Then you point your gun at a state trooper and dare him to shoot you.
I did what I had to, damn it.
You did more than that. You were enjoying yourself.
I saw you! You've jeopardized this entire operation.
There isn't a cop within a thousand miles who isn't gunning for you!
Fuck them! And fuck you!
Everything's turning to shit. It's got to stop.
Look...
I don't want to go on with this. Let's make some arrests.
It's obvious you're under a terrible strain.
But now is not the best time to terminate the operation, Daniel.
I can't do this anymore!
Just give me two weeks. We've worked so hard on this.
Everything we've done could go out the window. I've been invited to Washington!
You fuck.
Pardon?
Price goes to Washington. Price smashes drug ring.
You don't give a shit about anything or anybody but yourself.
You're pathetic.
- Where are you going? - I'm gonna drink with a friend.
Shit.
Nobody's got any identity anymore.
You ever notice that?
A bunch of gray men walking around.
No faces, no balls,
carrying their fucking lunch pails.
Only one solution, man.
Put on my colors, Sid.
When you got the gun, you walk in a room,
everybody shits in their pants.
- Your guys won't mind. - I can't do it, Blood.
- Let me ask you a question. - Shoot.
That's a hell of an idea.
You see?
See what I mean?
Gun is power.
Power makes fear.
And weakness only makes your fucking bowels run.
Point that somewhere else.
You know,
I can't remember if I put any shells in this fucking thing or not.
Fuck.
Where the hell did you park the car, man?
I really don't know because I can't see right now.
Why don't you open your eyes?
Open your eyes, man. You got them all squinted up.
That's a hell of an idea.
I think what we really need right now is the call of the wild.
- There you go. - Yeah.
Want to be...
- Is that better? - What?
- You can see now? - No, wait a minute.
Wait a minute.
- You're the one that couldn't see, right? - No, it was you. - No, no, no.
Remember me, asshole?
What the fuck is going on? You know this guy? Is he a friend of yours?
Our beef's not with you. You can walk.
All right.
- Take it easy, man. - Wait a minute. Blood!
You owe me something.
Why don't you shove it?
Motherfucker!
Blood!
Before I do you, man, I want you to see my face.
Fuck you!
Crazy, crazy son of a bitch!
I found the car, man.
What'd you think I was gonna do, leave you here? - Afraid so.
You ain't afraid of nothing, man. Neither am I.
Now let's get the fuck out of here. Come on.
- Renee? - I'm in here.
Shut the door, shut the door!
Come here, I want to show you something. Come here, hurry.
See this?
Your shadow didn't come in right.
My what?
The shadow. I had to add some light and make you a new one.
Watch this. Here it comes.
- Fuck. - Amazing, isn't it?
I got to get the fuck out of here.
Dan?
Jesus, what happened to you?
I think I'm losing my fucking mind.
Everything keeps happening just like in the story.
There's no other way to explain it.
Dan, we got to get out of here.
Let's just get in the car and go. I'll wake Marybette up. We'll just leave.
- I'm finished here. - I can't!
Why not?
Blood saved my life tonight.
Don't you see? I can't leave now. I have to do something.
Like what?
I don't know. Tip him off, keep him from getting busted. He saved my life, Renee.
He saved Sid's life, Dan, not yours. Can you still tell the difference?
Can you?
This is insane.
I make up my mind never to care about anybody again and here I am,
stuck with a man who thinks he's a character in a story who's got an appointment with death.
Am I supposed to be learning something from this?
And what are you learning from it, Dan? What are you learning from this?
- Take it easy. - No!
When you were a little kid, your uncle did horrible things to you. You were a victim.
Now look what you've become. You can't tell the knife from the fucking wound anymore!
I got to go.
Yeah, so do I.
Renee, I...
I really need to talk to you privately.
- Now's not a good time. - Well, when?
Later, man, we'll talk later.
Blood, this is really important.
- What, are you feeding a fucking army, Oatmeal? - Bite me, man!
Even as a little kid, I wanted more. Understand more?
You ever want more?
More food, more toys.
More chicks, more little girls, more pussy.
- You guys are gonna rob this place. - No, we are, man.
You're with us.
- Come on, Oatmeal. - I said, bite me!
Give me the goddamn money right now!
- Put the goddamn gun away. - Blood, what the fuck is with this guy?
You big motherfuck... - Shut the fuck up! You just stepped on your meat.
- We got to get the fuck out of here! - I would've given you everything.
My house, my club, the fucking shirt off my back.
Shoot the son of a bitch, man.
I don't know whether he's worth saving or not.
People can see us in here. We got to get the fuck out!
Everything depends on what you do next. Either you ride with me or you disappear forever.
- You understand what I'm saying? - Are you gonna smoke him or what?
Why don't you shut the fuck up!
Yeah? What about her? She can fucking identify us!
No, don't!
Now that's what we do with damsels in distress.
I'm so sorry.
May I have your attention, please?
As you know, three different state agencies are represented here today,
along with the FBI, Drug Enforcement Agency,
alcohol, tobacco and firearms, and the U.S. Treasury.
Gentlemen,
at precisely 11:00 p.m. tonight, and continuing through dawn,
an unprecedented number of arrests will be made in California, Arizona and Nevada.
These arrests will be staggered by location and time...
to minimize the possibility of alerting any of the suspects.
The significance of this many arrests over such a vast area is awesome.
It represents a substantial blow to organized crime in Arizona,
and it is the result of one man's dedicated effort.
An effort expended, I might add, at considerable personal cost.
Now, you've all heard by now that we've had an undercover officer...
deep within the outlaw motorcycle community.
But I think you'll be surprised when you meet him.
In fact, I know you will be.
His name is...
Daniel Saxon.
Daniel.
All I want is to arrest him myself.
No. The man is completely unpredictable. What if something happens to you?
- Nothing's gonna happen. - This is insane. I could lose my star witness.
If I don't agree to this, will you still testify?
Look.
You told me once that I needed this job,
that I had some unfinished business to take care of.
And you were right.
And this is one more thing...
that I have to do by myself.
You owe me, Price.
You owe me, and you know it!
Now what's it gonna be?
I'll give you five minutes.
- Who the fuck is it? - Narcotics officer.
Narcotics officer? I love that joke.
Come on in.
Hiya, Sid. Guess you finally got your priorities straightened out?
Oh, yeah.
Making some eggs here. Want some?
Got something for you, Blood.
Yeah?
You're wrong, man. It's not about power. It's about something else.
She was a human being.
Her name was Susan Han. She was 20 years old, and she wanted to live.
Where the fuck did you get those, man?
You were right about one thing. We did meet before.
You're the fucking cop from Linkville.
Yeah. I'm still in your fucking way.
What are you gonna do?
You're under arrest, Blood, for murder...
and trafficking narcotics.
Don't even think about it.
Oh, I'm thinking about it.
You fucking pig.
Open the goddamn door!
You don't come out of here now, I'm gonna blow this door down! Now come out of here!
- What the hell happened in there? - Now it's finished.
No, it's not! It's not over yet!
You still have to testify, Daniel.
The story you've just seen is true.
Some of the names and locations have been changed, but it's true.
Over 200 people got busted out there in the desert.
Blood's doing three consecutive life terms.
The real Dan Saxon lives with Renee somewhere in Northern California...
and appeared as an extra in this movie.
Me? There still ain't nothing about a scooter that I can't fix.
And I guess that you could say that I'm pretty much all right.