[engines revving]
[automatic gunfire]
[all shouting]
[wind whistling]
[gunfire]
[tires screech]
[beeps]
Sayonara, motherfucker!
[woman] We're going live.
Can you check on it?
[typing]
[man]
Ten cars down, two to go.
These drivers are crazy.
I still don't understand
why they're so willing to die.
[man] Because everyone
wants to be king of the hill.
Is the race streaming
on the dark Web?
Yes, Warden,
it's online in real time
on Freenet, I2P, and Tor.
And there's no way to trace
the ISP and shut 'em down
with a Web-based attack?
If I was the NSA and had
a couple of months, maybe.
These guys are
a legitimate cyber militia.
The encryption is first-rate.
It's bouncing every ten seconds.
Then kill their power.
We don't supply their power.
They're on their own
jerry-rigged grid.
Bitch-up and take out
this motherfucker!
[laughs]
Yeah, baby!
[laughs]
Fuck you, Frank!
[people chattering]
Any word from the OTB site?
On-site and online
wagering are up.
They're writing
a lot of betting slips.
The house is banking cash on the
secondary racers and the parlays,
and we're raking in some vig.
If Frankenstein wins,
there's a payout.
Death Race is illegal
and bigger than ever.
[laughs]
Thanks to our resident
crazy man Frank.
Aw, fuck Frankenstein.
You're the one who resurrected
Death Race from the dead.
I just figured out how to decode
the satellite signals
and stream it
on the dark Web.
Frankenstein's been born again
thanks to us.
Well, if he wins tonight,
it'll be his seventh straight.
Oh, our contact on the outside
says our margins are dropping
'cause nobody's taking
the other side of the bet.
We're losing a lot of money
on Frankenstein.
We need to spice things up.
The parlays
are paying off, but...
We need a challenger.
SWAT is en route,
T-minus five minutes.
Let's shut Frankenstein
and Death Race down
once and for all.
[police radio chatter]
We've got some action
from the outside.
[man] You wanted spice.
Say hello to SWAT.
Let's trade some paint.
Suck my dick, Frankie!
Suck my dick too, Frankie!
Push them into the fucking wall!
Do it, baby!
- Motherfucker!
- [laughing]
Whoo!
Get off the wall!
Got it!
Take this motherfucker out!
I picked the wrong driver!
[people chattering, laughing]
Full house.
Eights over aces.
[people laughing]
[flicks cards, taps table]
[man] Oh, nice.
Nines over jacks.
[men speaking Spanish]
I'd like a shot at getting
my money back.
Why don't I come to your place
later tonight?
Maybe we can shuffle
another deck of cards.
Est bien.
Hey, jefe, I've got a player,
wants to play some heavy action.
On SWAT versus Frankenstein.
- SWAT?
- SWAT.
Where's he gonna
play his money?
SWAT for 100,000.
Even odds.
It's my book.
I'll set the odds.
Three to one.
And if he gives you
any pushback,
tell him the Mexican Jew said
go to hell and take his mom.
I hope they got
that last shipment of guns.
Now make me some money, Frank.
[playing heavy metal music]
[crowd cheering, yelling]
[singing, lyrics indistinct]
[crowd cheering]
[man] Carley!
[tires screeching]
[crowd] Frankenstein! Frankenstein!
Frankenstein! Frankenstein!
Frankenstein! Frankenstein!
Frankenstein! Frankenstein!
[cheering]
[singing continues]
[officer] Go!
[all cheer]
[singing continues]
[gunfire]
[crowd screaming]
[officer] Cover left.
[radio chatter]
[officer 1]
Clear, sector one.
[officer 2]
Breach team, move up.
[officer 1]
Tango, direct front. Eight in.
[officer 1] Go, go, go!
Take this.
- Hold up!
- [soldiers chattering]
Move, move, move!
Back it up! Go, go!
We're all clear.
Tell me we got cameras in there.
Yeah. We've got
cameras everywhere.
[radios chattering]
[officer 1] Go left.
Go left, clear.
Go right.
Go right, clear.
[shouts]
Two tango down!
[men chattering]
[man on radio]
Sector two, report.
[officer 1]
Copy that, one minute.
[officer 1] Spread out. Move.
Got eyes on nothing.
I got eyes.
[men shouting, howling]
Yeah, motherfuckers, let's go!
[cheering, shouting]
[buzzing]
[screaming]
[men cheering]
[whimpers, screaming]
[shrieking]
[man] Get some, Frank!
Send me the best
you've got, Warden.
I'll send them
back to you skinned,
gutted and quartered.
You may be in charge out there,
but this is my city.
This is The Sprawl!
[man]
Come around that first corner.
[cell phone ringing]
- Hello?
- This isn't gonna play well in the Washington Post tomorrow.
I know, Mr. Valentine.
Well, then you know
I've got Congress up my ass
about The Sprawl
and its morality.
Frankenstein is out of control.
His legion is growing.
The government is gonna
take back my prison
unless we shut down Frankenstein
and shut him down now.
When I took over
Weyland International,
I was tasked with a very
specific directive.
Clean up The Sprawl
and put an end to Frankenstein.
More importantly, Death Race.
Our contract's up in five years, and we've got
a lot invested in that human garbage dump.
So when I get pulled into a
congressional oversight committee,
what should I say to the 435
members of the House, huh?
Well, tell them
that we're doing our best, but...
But what? We can't control a
bunch of sociopathic gearheads?
And Frankenstein's even more legendary
now that Death Race is illegal?
I can handle
Frankenstein, sir.
Really? 'Cause from where I sit,
Frankenstein's making you look like a chump!
He's gathering steam and mounting
what adds up to a small army.
You can't shut him down
from the outside.
He's just a mask.
[elevator bell dings]
Anybody can wear the mask.
His disciples, inside and out,
need to see him suffer
a humiliating defeat.
He needs to die during
Death Race and die bloody.
He loses Death Race,
he loses his power.
That's how you
take back our prison.
Make it happen or I will!
[man] What I'm about to feed you
is going to taste bitter.
You have found yourselves
in a no-win situation.
There are two options:
die or survive.
You will not be given clothes.
What you're wearing
is what you'll wear.
You will not be given
a place to sleep.
You will not be given jack shit,
except maybe a bullet
in the brain!
If you are lucky.
Rest assured, there are
no virgins within these walls,
because life
has fucked you all.
The Sprawl is 88,000 acres
of bad shit about to happen.
The Containment Zone
warehouses 420,000 of the worst
of the worst offenders.
Best advice: learn how to run.
Learn how to fight!
Stop eye-fucking me, asshole.
Uncle Sam has decided
to provide you
with one role
of silver coins.
This will be your currency
inside the walls.
That's the hotwash.
Now, get yourselves ready,
we're approaching
D-Z Alpha Bravo.
[buzzing]
[man]
All right, convicts, go, go!
Make the world a better place.
Get the fuck out of here!
How do I get in Death Race?
Find Baltimore Bob. If you got
what it takes, he'll get you in.
Move! Get off my bird now!
Let me off. Let's go!
Fuck you staring at?
[man 2] Go!
[men chattering]
[projectile whizzing]
[gunfire]
[man] Bad news.
Who wants to play?
Motherfucker.
[man] Come here!
[men shouting]
[grunts]
Where's that silver?
Get the fuck on the ground.
I don't like this shit.
Shut your fucking mouth!
Quit eyeballing me!
Well, ain't this a rainbow
of fucking ugly?
You folks lost?
We're good.
You look lost.
Nah, we're good, thanks.
You're good?
[chuckles]
That's good.
Now give me
your fucking silver.
Why would we do that?
It's a landing tax.
Why don't you just shoot us
and take it?
Maybe I don't want
to waste my bullets
on a gutter bitch
like you.
Huh?
[sniffs]
Mmm. [sniffing]
Mmm.
You're a real sweet talker,
ain't you?
Ah, thanks, I try.
I don't think
you have any bullets.
In fact,
I think you're shooting blanks.
[gun cocks]
Okay?
You folks want to play
the hard way?
Up against
the fucking truck!
[both grunting]
- [bone breaks]
- [screams]
[clanging]
[screams]
[coughing]
[all groaning]
Is this what you wanted?
[gun cocks]
I got this bad feeling
I owe you, pretty boy.
We're square.
You the one
that gave the cops a beating?
I don't want any trouble.
Oh, you don't?
'Cause if you tuned up the cops,
you're gonna have some.
I'm just looking
for Baltimore Bob.
Then jump in, cowboy.
I'll give you a ride.
[rock music playing]
[man] Yeah
We ride or die
When it's grind time
Never sit on no sideline
We don't follow
No guidelines
By any means, I'ma get mine
[both] All right!
Whoo!
What's up, pussy?
Yeah, bitch.
[groaning]
No way to stop it
Yeah, let's light it up
It's going down
Let's light it up
Wildin' out tonight
Let's throw it down
Let's light it up
It's going down
Let's light it up
[both moaning]
Wildin' out tonight
Let's throw it down
[wolf whistling]
[crowd roaring]
Bad bitches
On the pole slidin'
My whole clique grindin'
No reason why
Your ho be dick-ridin'
Panties on the models
Droppin' down
We rockin', we rollin'
I drive it like it's stolen
Don't ask me where we goin'
[men] Yeah!
Come on, let's ride
Let's light it up
It's going down
Let's light it up
Wildin' out tonight
Let's throw it down
[laughing]
Let's light it up
Fuck you, asshole!
[laughing]
[man] Fuck off, Tilly.
If I had a dick, here's where
I'd tell your ass to suck it.
[Frankenstein] So your story
is that one unarmed man
took out you and your gang
and boosted
my landing tax?
I'm sorry, Frank,
I'll do better next time.
There's no next times
in The Sprawl. You know this.
You got sent here
for killing cops,
and you can't
handle one con?
Like I said, I'm sorry, Frank.
I'll do better next time.
He just got lucky.
Every piece of silver
you collect
goes right back
to The Sprawl.
When my landing tax goes
uncollected, the city suffers.
Do you like to suffer?
I don't like to suffer, Frank.
[hip-hop music playing]
[men cheering, shouting]
Gotta live my life
Like there's
One more move to make
One more road to cross
That's him.
That's the motherfucker!
Gotta live my life
Like there's
One more move to make
Hey, Bex. This guy's
looking for Baltimore Bob.
Course, he is.
Connor Gibson, meet Jane.
It's good
to meet you, Jane.
He's all yours, chica.
I'ma go dance on the pole.
Scoot over, girl!
So... where'd you come in from?
Long Beach.
What are you in for?
Does it matter?
It does to me.
I'm here 'cause I'm here,
just like everyone else.
I bust off
I need this dough
Fuck, you think
I'm here for my health?
I need this wealth
Because I feed myself
You play with my life
When you play with my money
Playin' around
But this'll be the last time
- You think something's funny
- One more road to cross
One more risk to take
Gotta live my life
Like there's
One more move to make
One more road to cross
One more risk to take
[cheering, shouting]
[bones crunching]
[groaning]
[grunts]
One of my tax collectors told me
you attacked him then robbed him.
That's not exactly
how it went down.
Enlighten me, convict.
Kill him, Frank!
Your boy and his pals
tried to jump me.
Yet you're the one
who walked away.
I didn't say they
were any good at it.
Let me whack him, Frank.
Ain't nothing
but a couple drops of jizz
sprouted from a shit-filled
crack in the sidewalk.
Have we met before?
I don't think so.
I just got here.
And if we had,
I wouldn't know.
You're hiding behind a mask.
This is my city.
No one speaks to me like that.
[man] Kill that motherfucker!
Listen, you accused me
of stealing,
and I didn't steal anything,
I defended myself.
It's not my fault your boys weren't
up to the fight they picked.
Watch your back, convict.
You're definitely
not from Long Beach.
You make it a habit to punch
above your weight, convict?
Word is,
you're looking for me.
Baltimore Bob?
Your balls must be
made out of titanium.
[chuckles]
I've never seen anyone
talk to Frank like that.
You drive?
Yeah, I drive.
[Connor] So what are you
in here for, Bob?
Let's just say
I help people transition.
Press called me "Dr. Kill."
I was an oncologist.
Yeah, I read about you.
You euthanized
over 400 dying people.
I had 432, and not
all of them were dying.
Some were living
inconsequential lives,
and as such,
they were already dead.
[engine revving]
[man] Come on, come on!
Get the truck!
[rock thuds]
[men shouting, grunting]
This food is property
of Frankenstein!
[Connor]
What the hell are they doing?
Feeding time.
Disciples of Frank.
They hijack the food shipment
and control the supply.
If you keep the populace hungry,
they're easier to control.
Where do all the weapons
and cars come from?
Handmade, homemade.
We lick the bottom of the pot
and refurbish
whatever sticks to our tongues.
And we got a benefactor
on the outside.
[all shouting]
[men screaming]
Step away from the vehicle,
you motherfucker!
[all grunting, screaming]
Die, motherfucker!
Fuck you! Nazi fuck.
[man] What you got?
Let's get out of here.
[crowd cheering]
[cheering]
You're the one
everybody's talking about?
News travels fast, huh?
Small town, really.
226,000 to be exact.
We have about
19,000 deaths a year
and 22,000
come over the wall.
Sorry. I'm doing it again.
Connor Gibson, meet Lists.
[crowd cheers]
So what am I
watching here?
[Lists] It's where non-racers
compete for a spot in Death Race.
And how do you get a spot?
You have to win
the Death Match.
Let this Death Match begin!
[cheering]
Our first contestant is all the
way from New York City, New York.
She's a killer and a thief,
and one sexy
little piece of ass!
Give it up for Gipsy Rose!
[crowd cheering]
Next up, born in the tall cotton
and chicken droppings
of Oxford, Mississippi,
we have a psychotic wack job...
Who's the girl?
Frank's main squeeze.
Your standard, garden-variety
pleasure model.
Carley J'adore.
It's her stage name.
She was charged with 17 counts
of human trafficking,
eight counts prostitution, and another
five counts of false imprisonment.
She's an ex-cheerleader.
Ex-porn star.
Exactly.
Never did a day's work vertical.
[engines revving]
[crowd cheering]
On your marks.
Get set.
And die!
[loud thud]
[tires screech]
[crowd chanting]
Kill! Kill! Kill!
[squealing]
[laughs]
[men grunting]
[crowd cheering]
- I can't hear you!
- [cheering]
Yeah!
[crowd cheering]
[grunts]
Oh, fuck!
[laughing]
[cheering]
[man] Yeah! Yeah!
Shut your fucking mouth!
[cheering, laughing continue]
Yeah!
[engines revving]
[grunts]
[cheering]
[cackling]
Yeah!
Yeah!
Yeah!
[chattering]
[door opens]
[engine starts]
[tires squeal]
Don't pick a fight with Godzilla 'cause
you think you know how to throw a punch.
Sleep on it.
You still want Death Race
tomorrow...
we'll talk.
Hey, Long Beach.
Got a bottle.
Could use some company.
- [Connor] It's nice in here.
- Thanks.
Go ahead and ask.
Everybody always asks.
It's kind of like the "What's
your star sign?" line in here.
I'm guilty.
I wasn't gonna ask.
Yeah, but you would have
found out anyway.
There's no secrets here
in The Sprawl.
I married
a really great guy
who turned out to be
not such a great guy.
He beat me up
a couple of times.
I forgave him,
the market crashed,
he lost his job,
smacked me around
a bit more.
I forgave him again.
And then one day...
I didn't forgive him.
And I shot him nine times.
You know my one regret though?
Is I didn't shoot
the bastard 10.
So...
you still wanna
knock boots with me?
Never said I did.
Okay.
Well, wasn't really
up for the taking anyway.
I just needed somebody
to finish this bottle with,
and you're...
some mysterious guy
from Long Beach, right?
Get some sleep.
Couch is yours
if you want it.
[Lists]
Welcome to the greenhouse.
This is Baltimore Bob's
one-of-a-kind creation.
Inspired by the Chinese
solar greenhouse designs
with CO2 enrichment.
Pesticide-free
and totally 100% organic.
This is where
we make the ethanol.
And Bob is constantly
tinkering with the recipe
to deliver a high-octane brew.
It's got 20 times more kick than the
watered-down petrol from outside the wall.
He's like the OPEC
of The Sprawl.
And he's not
in Frank's pocket?
They have an arrangement.
He provides fuel, and Frank
reciprocates with, um,
protection and
a few other perks.
We eat a little bit better
than the rest.
[man 1]
Gonna need another plate there.
[man 2]
It's all bent to shit.
[man 1] Yeah, we're gonna
replace the whole coupling.
[man 2] Throw it on the rack.
[man 1] We got
some spare cast-iron...
[whines]
[man] Red, you installing
that catalytic converter yet?
[Red] They gotta rebuild it.
- You slept on it?
- I did.
Let's say you
have the skills.
[chuckles]
Death Race is
for sociopathic killers.
You gotta have
gravel in your guts.
You have to live
for the smell of motor oil
and high-octane fuel.
You gotta love the sound
of rubber on asphalt
and the taste of blood
in your mouth.
And when you go to sleep
at night,
I mean
that deep REM sleep,
the sound of bullets whizzing past
your head should give you comfort.
So, Mr. Strong and Silent...
you made of that stuff?
If I'm not,
then I die, right?
[chuckles]
So you want a shot.
[laughing]
I'll get you a shot.
Tonight.
Death Pit.
[man] Put it over there
with the rest of it.
Be ready to fight.
[crowd chattering]
[crowd cheering]
[Carley on PA]
Welcome to the Death Pit,
you degenerate convicts.
Tonight's final Death Match promises
to be the bloodiest one yet.
The carnage is about to begin, so take your
seats and get ready for the wildest ride yet.
[line ringing]
[phone beeps]
Hello?
Hi, old friend.
Lists, my buddy.
What you got for me?
There's a new guy.
This is his first Death Match,
but Baltimore Bob
says he can fight.
- Could be a challenger.
- What's his story?
Connor Gibson,
in for felony whatever.
Two counts, six counts,
who's counting?
He's in here
with the rest of us.
I wish I had a few more
bullet points for you,
but he's a question mark.
Why don't you send me the link,
and I'll, uh, check him out.
Uh, wait, um, before you go.
We're running short on spare
parts, bulk ammo, CAT-5 cable.
Could you hook me up?
It'll be in
on the next shipment.
Adios, amigo.
Okay, let's see
what this kid's made of.
[chuckling]
Warden, check it out.
What do you have?
They're transmitting
a telecast from the Death Pit.
It's the final Death Match.
[crowd roaring]
Welcome to the final
Death Match.
This one's simple easy.
It's called
Capture the Keys.
Here's the rules.
We're not here to see
some MMA submission bullshit.
We're here
to see bone-blasting,
spine-shattering fun.
[cheering]
It's about kill.
It's about blood and bone.
- Aw, man, somebody gonna get a citation!
- [man] Yeah!
We're not here to see
some fucking pussy tap out.
The one person
who gets that set of keys
and sticks it in the ignition
of that car,
wins the last spot
in Death Race.
Yeah!
Adios, suckers.
Peace out.
[crowd roaring]
[starting horn blares]
[man screams]
[all grunting]
Somebody call the police?
[all grunting]
[shrieking]
[screaming]
[grunting]
[bone snapping]
Perro grande!
There's our challenger.
You can't teach that.
[chuckles]
[shrieking, grunting]
Yeah!
Slash that motherfucker!
[grunting]
[grunts]
- Yeah!
- [cheering]
[shouts]
[neck snaps]
[both grunting]
That pretty boy can punch.
Ja, but can he drive?
Who cares? I want to know
if he fucks like he fights.
RIP that motherfucker!
- [grunts]
- [gasps]
- [Bexie] Yeah!
- [cheering]
[thunder rumbling]
Ah, fuck.
Ladies and gentlemen,
let's hear it for the Butcher.
This mountain of a man has a
bellyful of killing under his belt,
having chalked up 67 body bags
on the kill board.
Submission is not his thing.
Good luck out there, Connor.
You've got the keys.
Do you have the balls?
[crowd roaring]
Side bet, this pretty boy
doesn't last a minute.
[chuckles] I'll take
that action, mi hijita.
[bellowing] Oh!
[both grunting]
[groans]
[grunting]
[cheering]
Ha!
[grunts]
[sniffs]
[exhales]
[moans] Oh!
[groaning]
[shouts in Spanish, laughs]
Down goes Frazier! Ba-da!
Shit.
Unbelievable.
Hot dog! Made me feel
young again. Shit.
[bellowing]
[panting]
[all cheering]
I got something for you,
Frankie-stein.
[laughing]
Got something for you, baby.
[crowd chanting, cheering]
Bring the winner by for a talk.
With pleasure.
That's a bad motherfucker.
Wanna pay now, or shall I,
uh, run up a tab?
I'll pay now.
Mmm.
Frank thought you might
want a fresh shirt.
I thought you
might want me.
I'm not into porn stars.
You can't pass this up.
I can.
He might have something
to say about that.
If you think you can make a go of it
against Frankenstein, you're wrong.
I can barely handle him, and I'm
three times the man you are.
Pussy.
Was Carley hospitable?
Something like that.
You've impressed me, twice.
That's not easily done.
What are your first impressions
of The Sprawl?
Anarchy.
Any more than
the outside world?
I think so.
Do you think you can handle
being king of this mountain?
I'm just here to race.
Mmm.
Yes, but if you win,
then what?
Are you ready to lead?
To make hard decisions?
The Sprawl is self-sustaining,
but it wasn't always this way.
When I arrived,
it was a wasteland.
The Weyland corporation
promoted The Sprawl
as an alternative
to regular prison.
That was a lie.
The Sprawl was created
as an alternative
to the death penalty.
They throw us cheese
and expect us to act like rats.
They didn't expect us to evolve.
But we are and we will.
I keep this place
from anarchy.
What does this have to do
with a street race?
It's not just a street race.
It is who we are.
Who are you, Connor Gibson?
Nobody special.
All that could change if you win
Death Race, if you defeat me.
Why would you be willing to risk
losing all this power?
Death Race gives anyone
the opportunity to become king.
Without that to inspire,
we're nothing.
If you win,
what would be
your first act as king?
Haven't really thought about it.
I won because I knew exactly what I wanted
to do when I was king of this hill.
If you don't know what you want,
you'll die on the track,
and The Sprawl
will cheer your death.
So the question is,
what do you want?
[car stereo: rock]
Come on, baby.
Get in.
That was insane tonight.
The answer's no, Bexie.
You don't want to ride shotgun
in Death Race.
Yes, I do.
It's a death sentence.
Frank's killed people
I care about.
I wanna be part of
putting him down.
I'll think about it.
[buzzing]
I thought
we could have a drink.
Mmm.
So who's Merry?
She your favorite groupie, or are
you just really into Christmas?
It's, uh, my sister Meredith.
She died
when I was in the service.
Never got to say good-bye.
Can't change it,
so I, uh...
Seen a lot of bad stuff.
Done a lot of bad things.
Merry was good.
Better than me,
that's for sure.
I was, uh...
I was born in Little Rock.
Son of a preacher man?
Hardly.
My old man was a grease monkey
in a pair of coveralls.
His idea of a good time was
drinking Dixie beer on the porch
and counting
the fireflies.
Spent most of my young life in
Sweetwater, Texas, on a salvage yard.
Merry passed away
in Long Beach.
That's how I ended up there.
So the good news is the V-8,
standard transmission, and it runs,
but the bad news is,
well, it needs
tires, brakes,
a total engine overhaul,
a fuel cell, armor, weapons...
Man, don't bore me
with a list.
Bottom line,
it needs everything.
- What the hell's this thing?
- Your tombstone.
Bulletproof titanium plate.
Protects your fuel cell.
You got a navigator yet?
[Bexie]
Hell yeah, he does.
I'm the motherfucker
riding shotgun.
The hell you looking at?
I got antifreeze in my veins.
Let's build this shit.
[no audible dialogue]
[woman]
When it's time to go
You already know
Something's up
Walking through the dust
You look at me like
"What the fuck?"
Nothin' I could do
'Cause your fate is sealed
That's the plan
This is just a game
That we play
In our wasteland
Piece by piece
You're gonna feel the pain
Piece by piece
We're gonna break it up
Piece by piece
You'll never sleep again
Piece by piece
We'll get in your nightmare
The speedometer's been calibrated
at 200 miles per hour.
Think that's all
she's got?
Let's find out.
This Death Race
is one lap, one day.
The race begins and ends
at the air field.
A lot of speed here,
a few obstacles.
The second leg
is on Interstate 94.
Most of the lesser cars will be taken
out on this long stretch here.
Watch out for the highway gangs.
This is their turf.
And then you hit the projects.
All kind of bad boys
in there.
If you come out of there alive,
you end up
in the meatpacking district.
Home free.
[Baltimore Bob] Driving
is more important than killing.
Shoot only
when you must.
Think slow, drive fast.
Rule number one:
Keep your ass alive.
[laughs]
[Carley moaning]
[moaning continues]
That was incredible.
Don't fucking touch me.
Hi.
So you like cars?
Yeah. I like
American muscle.
I had a Vette.
Rebuilt it myself.
1970 LT-1.
Ooh.
Stingray.
Used to love to open her up
on the highway to Vegas.
Pedal to the floor,
370 horses running hard.
Rochester Quadrajet carb
getting the mixture just right.
Momentum shift,
stay off the brakes,
get her on her toes.
Man, could she fly.
I bet you talk like this
to all your girls.
I got nothing
outside these walls.
Merry was my last connection
to anything real.
So when she died, I...
made a bad decision and...
wound up here,
not caring about anything...
or anyone.
But now...
But now?
[vehicles approaching]
[people shouting]
[laughter]
[shouting]
[man] We're coming for you!
We're coming for you, boy!
[siren blaring]
Sergeant Gibson.
No one's called me that
in a long time.
Connor Gibson is not the man
we are coming to know.
He is a warrior.
A very decorated
and specialized warrior,
known in the shadow world
of government killers
for his wet work
with the CIA.
Targeted killing is his forte,
and I am his mark.
He's here at the behest
of Weyland International.
Sent here by the fascists
from the outside
because they think
I've gained too much power.
They fitted him with a strap,
and he hangs around their waist
like a hatchet.
There's a helicopter ride
to freedom
waiting for him
at the finish line.
Tell me, Sergeant,
am I wrong?
Kill! Kill! Kill!
Kill! Kill! Kill!
Kill! Kill! Kill!
Kill! Kill! Kill!
Kill!
Kill him!
[man] Traitor!
Kill him!
Sergeant Gibson...
Traitor!
will be allowed to race.
Fuck that, Frank!
What if he wins?
Then he wins!
And that is what's meant to be.
Did you think
I wouldn't find out?
So tell me, who's hiding
behind the mask now,
me or you?
See you
on the starting line.
[chattering, laughing]
Stupid traitor.
[man] He's gonna
tear him apart anyway, man.
Is it true?
[sighs]
Good-bye, Long Beach.
Jane, please.
Get your goddamn hands
off of me.
I'm still
one of your pit crew.
I don't care if they have
sent you to kill him or not.
He's a liar, Bob.
- A liar who's working for the man.
- Eh, get over it.
Yeah. He's good
for business.
We got a race
to get ready for.
Get your head right,
convict.
Your life depends on it.
[engines starting]
Buenas, buenas.
Cuenta mi dinero.
Amigos. [laughs]
- Bienvenido, patrn.
- [Goldberg] Mi hijita.
Tequila para todos.
[cheering]
You gotta love race day! Ha!
- Go, go, go
- [cheering]
Are you ready, motherfuckers!
[cheering]
I can't hear you,
you bunch of fucking pussies!
No
Here they are!
Welcome to Death Race,
the ultimate in auto carnage.
One day, 11 drivers,
four stages,
and over 250 live camera feeds.
[phone rings]
Just like clockwork,
Mr. Valentine.
This is it, last chance.
Frankenstein dies
or your career dies.
Frankenstein will be
in a body bag by day's end.
I hope so, for your sake.
[Carley on PA] Let's talk about the bad
boys and girls that run this race.
Did you call a cop?
'Cause I didn't fucking...
I didn't call a...
[laughs]
[Carley on PA] Featuring
three-time racer Johnny Law
and his monster police cruiser.
He's here to protect and serve.
Mornin', motherfuckers.
Two-time racer The Fireman
and his Dodge Ram Hemi.
His ax is coming
through your door.
Come show mama some love.
Queen bitch of The Sprawl,
Matilda the Hun,
sporting her school bus yellow
Econoline van.
And first-timer Gipsy Rose
in her badass Mini Cooper S.
[Carley] With a face
only a mother could love,
here's Pierced-Face
and his VW Bug.
Nazi Bastard and his
bloodthirsty truck from hell.
Dirt and
his Formula 1 War Cycle,
counting on speed
to keep him alive.
[grunting]
Veteran racer Dead Man
and his killer hearse.
He didn't come here
to rest in peace.
Behind the wheel
of her Toyota Celica,
virgin racer Cleopatra.
And last but definitely least,
our resident rat fuck,
Sergeant Gibson
and his big block Camaro.
He's got a bull's-eye
on his back.
[engine revving]
You ready for
our playdate?
[snarls]
You got the whole world coming after you.
You know that, right?
Take a walk, Bexie.
I got this.
I should.
Who am I to judge?
I ain't here
to throw shade on you.
I'm sure you got reasons.
So, if it's all the same,
I'll ride with you.
[Carley on PA] Now, give
it up for your champion,
returning to the track
of his seven straight wins,
the man who just won't die,
Frankenstein!
[crowd cheering]
[man] Frank,
I got your number, baby!
[man] Frank baby!
Sometimes I get the feeling
Frank is playing chess...
and the rest of us
are playing checkers.
Let her go, Frank.
She's got nothing to do
with any of this.
No.
But she's
a good insurance policy.
Let's see
how cold-blooded you are.
Put her in the car.
[Carley] Welcome to Death Race,
streaming live on the dark Web
to over 54 million viewers
on 250 live camera feeds.
This is the ultimate
in vehicular carnage,
uncut and totally rad.
Stage one: the air field.
[crowd cheering]
[engines revving]
Fake tits.
We should fuck her
after the race.
[crowd cheering]
[engines revving]
Let's light this fire!
Now go back and strap your sweet
little ass in that chair, girl.
[squealing]
Ha ha! Come on!
[man] Get ready
To settle the score
And get ready
To face the floor
'Cause it's time
To remember it
This is war
And it's on tonight
So get up and fight
Get up and fight
This is war
Dude, let's get
this party started.
Get ready
To settle the score
Whoa! [laughs]
And get ready
To face the floor
'Cause it's time
To remember it
War
This is war
And it's on tonight
So get up and fight
One down, 10 to go.
You've had all your life
To run and hide
[laughing]
This is gonna be the
biggest payday ever. Mwah.
Get ready
To settle the score
And get ready
To face the floor
Hey, Bexie, do me a favor and get
those motherfuckers off my ass.
Let's blow some shit up.
Step up
Now step up
Let's do this
[chuckling] Find me someone that'll
give me some action on Connor Gibson.
And tell them I'm all in.
[Carley on monitor] Nine drivers
remain as we enter the Deadlands.
Frankenstein, Connor Gibson,
and Gipsy Rose lead the pack.
Buckle up, bitches. The asphalt is running
red, and we're just getting warmed up.
Stage two: the Deadlands.
Ha, ha, ha!
Yeah!
Ha, ha, ha!
You are going down,
you sodomite motherfucker!
- Take him out!
- [gunfire]
Fuck you, Fireman!
[cackling]
Yeah!
[laughing]
[grunts]
[groaning]
Now that's a waste
of some good pussy.
[chuckles] I couldn't have
said it better myself.
Frankenstein and
Benedict Arnold himself,
Connor Gibson,
battle for the lead.
But Gipsy Rose and Johnny Law are
hanging around the front of the pack.
Let's put Frank
in a body bag once and for all.
Arming missiles.
[alarm beeping]
Let's see if your boyfriend's
ready to bury you.
- Don't do it.
- Let her go, Connor. That skinny bitch ain't never coming back.
I said don't do it.
[computer beeps]
[laughs]
Just what I thought.
[shouting in Spanish]
Fucking Los Muertos.
Fuego!! Fuego!
Fuck!
- [siren wailing]
- Suck on this, dickface!
[grunting, shouting]
Whoo! [laughs]
Whoop, whoop, whoop!
Hold onto your titties, bitches!
Six Death Racers left.
Aaah!
Aaah!
Let's go!
Who the hell
brings a VW Bug
to a Death Race?
I gotta hand it to these degenerates.
They put on a hell of a show.
Aaah!
Our tombstone
can't hold out much longer.
Somebody call 9-1-1?
Wa-hoo!
Lose this psycho.
[Fireman laughs]
Missed, motherfucker!
[cackling]
[cackling] Fish on!
We're hooked.
Hang on, Bexie.
I got an idea.
What are you doing,
motherfucker?
[Fireman]
Here, fishy, fishy.
Come out and play.
Shh.
[both screaming]
[squealing]
Fuck me. This traitor and his bitch,
Bexie, just burned down the Fireman.
Only five Death Racers left
as they head into the projects.
Frankenstein is still in the lead,
with Gipsy Rose a close second,
and Connor Gibson's eating
everyone's dust in dead last.
Stage three: the projects.
[cheering]
- Agh!
- [laughing] Fucking Death Race!
- Scheie!
- Whoo-hoo!
[giggling]
[screams]
Aaah!
Verdammt Scheie!
Scheie!
Hey, you!
Did you do this?
[man] No! We did!
Just the man
I was gunnin' for.
How ya doin', Wonder Bread?
[man 2]
Goose-stepping motherfucker!
[laughing]
Fick dich, Schwarze!
Oh, no, he didn't!
Did he just say
what I think he said?
Yeah, but in German.
Fick dich deine Mutter!
Whoo.
You and your bitch
brought your skinhead shit
to the wrong part of town.
Get ready to play.
We gotta reroute him
over the bridge.
He's too far out
to win this race.
I'm not telling him.
Get him online.
[beep]
Talk to me, Bob.
We need to reroute you
over the bridge.
- The bridge is out.
- Why the fuck are you rerouting me there?
You're too far behind.
You have to jump the gap.
[sighs] What are we talking
about, like 50 feet?
More like 250 feet.
That's your only chance,
if you wanna win.
I have to win.
[Carley] No one's gonna shed a tear for
Nazi Bastard and his nasty little frulein.
I mean, boo-hoo. It's not a
real loss to the planet Earth.
Four drivers remain.
Frankenstein and Gipsy Rose have opened up a
big lead on Johnny Law and Connor Gibson.
[Connor]
How do we do this, Bob?
You've gotta hit the gap
at 220 miles an hour.
There's a ramp there.
Not the first time
this has been tried.
You know we're only calibrated
to 200 miles an hour.
Don't worry.
She'll get you up to 220.
Anyone ever made
this jump before?
On paper, the math works.
- What about the landing?
- I ain't gonna lie to you. It's gonna be a hard one.
If you get your angle right,
you might live.
Yeah, fuck you very much.
That rat fuck is back.
Punk-ass bitch!
That worked well.
Yeah! Yeah!
Okay. Let's get this
done already.
[Baltimore Bob] Take your next left.
The bridge is five miles out.
- That's your only chance.
- You like this play, Bob?
It's your only play.
I'll see you on the other side.
You should get out, Bexie.
We're all out of road.
Not fucking happening.
The minute I got in this car
with you, I was all in.
So let's do this.
It's just gravity.
[Connor]
We're maxing out at 209.
I'm dropping the tombstone.
Come on, come on.
[cheering]
Yes, yes, yeah!
All right!
Told you the math worked.
[laughing]
All right!
Whew.
I could suck you off right now.
I can't believe what I just saw.
Connor Gibson jumped the bridge, putting
him right back in the thick of it.
Motherfucker got game. Mmm.
Come on, kid!
Don't let me down!
You gotta win this race.
Here comes your boyfriend.
Hey, Bex,
patch me through to Frank.
[beeping]
Hey, Frankie.
Hey, Connor. Glad you showed
for your date with destiny.
I knew it would come down to us.
I wouldn't have it
any other way.
We can start shooting
at each other or we can drive.
What do you prefer?
Let's drive.
Come on, come on. We're running out
of time. Take him out already!
[beeping]
What's going on?
[beeping continues]
His fuel cell's empty.
[shouting in Spanish]
Ah!
What the fuck? Drive, Connor!
[engine knocking]
We're out of gas.
Fuel line's ruptured.
[engine revving]
[engine revving]
Don't do it.
Just turn around
and win your race.
This is Death Race.
He has to die.
He knows it.
He chose it.
[engine revving]
[beeping]
[engine revving]
All right!
[cheering]
That's our cue.
Send in the chopper.
It's already en route.
[groaning]
Get the fuck
out of here.
I got you. I got you, Jane.
[groans]
Jam the broadcast
to the dark Web.
But this is good stuff. J-Just do it.
Cut it for five minutes.
Oh, shit.
[man]
What is happening?
This is what the warden wants.
[chuckles]
He wants Frank's death
on display.
We give it to him,
we lose.
Fuck him.
[groans]
[helicopter approaching]
Job's done. Let's go.
Hold on.
They sent two of us?
Insurance.
[chuckles]
Pretty wild, huh?
[sighs]
And thanks for the assist.
Everybody was so focused on you,
I flew under the radar.
Let's get the fuck
out of this shithole.
Frankenstein's dead.
It's a job well done.
Oh, and by the way...
we're all square now.
Twenty seconds and I'm gone.
[Baltimore Bob on comm]
Connor, listen up.
Put on the mask.
Become Frankenstein.
The Sprawl will never follow
Connor Gibson.
They follow Frankenstein.
Without him, chaos.
Let's finish this race,
Long Beach.
Now, put Death Race back online.
[laughing]
Goldberg's gonna be pissed.
He put heavy action
on Connor.
Easy come, easy go.
Fuck you, Valentine.
[tires screeching]
[laughing]
Yeah!
[laughing continues
over comm]
[man] Okay.
I'm feelin' the way
That I'm feelin' myself
Everyone else
Gotta remember that nobody's
Better than anyone else here
Do you need some time
To think it over?
Look what they do to you
Look what they do to me
You must be joking If you think
that Either one is free here
Get up off your knees, girl
Stand face-to-face
With your god
To find out what you are
Hello, my name is human
Hello, my name is human, hey
And I came down
From the stars
Hello, my name is human
I'm ready for love
And I'm ready for war
But I'm ready for more
I know that nobody's
Ever been this ready before
Hey
Do you need some time
To think it over?
So figure it out
Or don't figure it out
I figured it out
The bigger the river
The bigger the drought
Bigger the drought, drought
Get up off your knees, boy
Stand face-to-face
With your god
And find out what you are
Hello, my name is human
Hello, my name is human, hey
And I came down
From the stars
Hello, my name is human
Fire world
I love you
Fire world
I'm up off my knees, girl
I'm face-to-face with myself
And I know who I am
Hello, my name is human
And I stole the power
From the sun
I am more than just a man
No longer disillusioned
I'm not asking questions
'Cause questions
Have answers
And I don't want answers
I came down from the stars
And what are the chances
That I could advance
On my own circumstances?
What are the chances?
Hello, my name is human
I'm not asking questions
And I know who I am
What are the chances
That I could advance
On my own circumstances?
What are the chances?
Hello, my name is human
I'm not asking questions
And I know who I am
I'm taking my chances