Kurt Wimmer

Look, spies are a dime a dozen. I'm a spy. Clyde is a brain. He's a think tank-type guy. His specialty was low-impact kinetic operations.

We kill people. He figured out how to do it without ever being in the same room. It was his gift, and he was the best. One time, we're tasking this tricky target. I mean, we're usin' cruise missiles and Predators, and we even had a B-2 Bomber flatten this guy's villa with JDAM. Alright, we're burnin' up millions in ordnance and we're gettin' nowhere with this guy. So we call Clyde, and we ask him to solve our problem. Clyde develops a Kevlar thread with a high-tech ratchet made of carbon fiber. Put it in a necktie. Two days later, Mrs. Bad Guy comes home, finds Mr. Bad Guy dead on the bathroom tile, choked to death. What I'm sayin' is, just assume that this guy can hear and see everything that you're doing.

He's in jail, it's because he wants to be in jail. He's a born tactician. Every move that he makes, it means something. That cellmate that he killed, what, you think that was random? No. That's a pawn being moved off the board. If I were you, I'd be lookin' for the next piece. Anybody who had anything to do with that case, he's gonna be comin' after you.

Walk into his cell, and put a bullet in his head. Aside from that, no, you can't stop him. If Clyde wants you dead, you're dead.

My wife and daughter can't feel anything. They're dead.

I'm just getting started. I'm gonna pull the whole thing down. I gonna bring the whole fuckin' diseased corrupt temple down on your heads. It's gonna be Biblical.

No, I don't think I will excuse you. You see, this is what I'm talking about. You were about to let me go. Are you kidding me? This is why we're here in the first place. You think I don't remember who you are, lady?

Well, how carefully should I tread? Because apparently I just killed two people, and you were about to let me walk right out that door! How MISGUIDED are you? I feed you a couple of bullshit legal precedents, and there you go - you jump on it like a bitch in heat. Folks, you all hang out...

…in the same little club…

…and every day you let madmen and murderers back on the street. You're too busy treating the law…

…like it's a fucking assembly line!

These are tourniquets, so you don't bleed out, 'cause you may be here a while. Saline solution, that should keep us going. Clamps nice and secure. Comfortable? You really are shaking. Sure you're all right? You'll love this. Adrenaline. Now this is so you don't pass out. There you go. How's it feel? Good? Now what we don't want is you swallowing your tongue, so bear with me... There we go. Now this is for your penis, but we'll get to that later. Scalpel. This is for your eyelids... in case you insist on fucking shutting them. You see, I know what it feels like to be helpless. Just like when I watched you slaughter my whole family. Oh, you can't fight fate, right, Darby...? Oh! Look, I made this especially for you. You like it? I didn't want you to miss anything. Now you have the best view in the house. You hear that? Your heart is beating so fast. You know, me too. Look. Now they get to watch you suffer. They'll be the last thing you ever see… as I cut off every single one of your fucking limbs. See, I wasn't lying when I told you I wanted to keep you out of prison. That was the truth.

This... Tetrodotoxin. Should be nicely into your system by now. Isolated from the liver of a Caribbean Puffer Fish. So, it paralyzes you... and leaves all the other neurological functions perfectly intact. In other words, you can't move... but you feel everything. It does absolutely nothing to blunt the pain... and you're about to experience more of that, than you could ever fucking imagine.

Oh, really? I don't think so. Let's think back. What did I say? That "I wanted to kill Clarence Darby"? Yeah, sure. What father wouldn't? That "Darby and Ames both deserved to die"? I think most people would agree with that. That "I planned it over and over in my head"? Yeah, who wouldn't fantasize about that? None of these are an admission of guilt, Nick. You might wanna check the tape.

Well, it's not what you know, it's what you can prove in court! Didn't you tell me that once?

I took his fingers with bolt cutters, his toes with tin snips, his balls with a hack saw, and his penis with a box cutter, how's that for specifics?

Switching the canisters was easy. Everything's automated these days, so I just hacked into the shipping company's server and swapped a few numbers around so the package came to me. Then I switched the potassium chloride with something a little more... deliberate.

What if I had another confession to make?

But another confession would mean another deal, Nick, so you would have to give me something in return. You ever been to Del Frisco's? They cater. So for lunch, I would love a 200z porterhouse steak, medium, maybe a little bit charred, with all the trimmings- pommes frites, asparagus, butter squash.

You know what? Can I have my iPod as well? I'd love a little bit of music with my meal.

Your Honor, I'm a law-abiding citizen. I'm just a regular guy. I am not a flight risk. And this is my first alleged offense. And the prosecution has not presented one single piece of evidence against me. Now in these circumstances, unless the state has obtained some new piece of information relating to my involvement in the matter in question, then I find it highly prejudiciaI, even constitutionally offensive, to keep me detained without bail. It's a slippery slope, Your Honor. Haven't we seen the result of such violations, both internationally and domestically? Case in point would be Day v. McDonough, docket 041325.

Vengeance? That's what you think this is about? Vengeance?

No, Nick, I had 10 years for vengeance, if that's what I wanted. You don't think that I watch you go to work every morning at 8:00 AM? Or that I watch Kelly take Denise to school, 8:15? No, I could have slaughtered you or your family anytime I wanted!

You were doing your job the way that best served you, Nick - the way that it best served you. That has to change.

And you, Preston, the supposed savior of the resistance, are now its destroyer, and, along with them, you've given me yourself... calmly... coolly... entirely without incident.

Wait! Wait! Look at me. Look at me. I'm life. I live... I, I breathe... I feel. Now that you know it... can you really take it? Is it really worth the price?

Be careful Preston. You're treading on my dreams.Be careful Preston. You're treading on my dreams.

The gun katas. Through analysis of thousands of recorded gunfights, the Cleric has determined that the geometric distribution of antagonists in any gun battle is a statistically predictable element. The gun kata treats the gun as a total weapon, each fluid position representing a maximum kill zone, inflicting maximum damage on the maximum number of opponents while keeping the defender clear of the statistically traditional trajectories of return fire. By the rote mastery of this art, your firing efficiency will rise by no less than 120%. The difference of a 63% increase to lethal proficiency makes the master of the gun katas an adversary not to be taken lightly.

In the first years of the 21st century, a third World War broke out. Those of us who survived knew mankind could never survive a fourth; that our own volatile natures could simply no longer be risked. So we have created a new arm of the law: The Grammaton Cleric, whose sole task it is to seek out and eradicate the true source of man's inhumanity to man - his ability to feel.

It is not the will of the Council, it is the will of Father and he is law.

You must understand, Preston, that while you - and even I - may not always agree with it,it is not the message that is important, it is our obedience to it. Father's will. Call it faith. You have it, I assume?