Weiss?
He's dead.
But he gave me the code.
The satellite uplink code.
The underground
has a broadcast center...
in quadrant four.
Take her.
Take her and the code to Mic.
Don't let us die for nothin'.
We're countin' on you.
Don't let us down.
I don't want to be
the only asshole in heaven...
Ben.
He saved my life.
It should be me down there.
We got him?
Hey, Ben?
I got to hand it to you, pal.
You got the whole network here
in an uproar.
They're shipping bicarb
to theJustice Department in crates.
So that's why this little call
is just between you and I.
It's not on the air.
Listen very carefully, Ben.
How would you like
a three-year contract, guaranteed...
a Cadre credit line...
and a beachfront condo?
Sound impossible?
Ben, that's the standard deal
for a network stalker.
I know real talent...
when I see it, Ben, and I'd hate
to see you get canceled tonight...
when you could go
the distance.
Say the word, Ben, and you could be
the one doing the stalking.
What do you think?
You cold-blooded bastard.
I'll tell you what I think of it.
I'll live to see you
eat that contract.
But I hope you leave
room for my fist...
because I'm going
to ram it into your stomach...
and break your goddamn spine!
Damon, it's for you.
- Who?
- It's the attorney general.
Get out. Everybody out.
Come on. Move.
Yes.
Fireball! Fireball!
Fireball! Fireball!
Come on, Fireball!
Let's go!
He's my hero!
There he goes.
Fireball's on his way.
And Dynamo's down but not out.
Back to you, Damon.
Hey! All right, Agnes.
Listen now. Big chance for you.
Win a whole lot of prizes.
You know we've still got
two crack stalkers out there, right?
Dynamo and Fireball.
Who do you think
will make the next kill?
Oh, boy.
That's a tough one.
Give it a try. You can do it.
Who do you think?
I think the next kill...
will be made by...
Ben Richards.
- She can't do that!
- Hold it.
Agnes. Richards is a runner.
You've got to pick a stalker.
I can pick anyone I choose...
and I choose...
Ben Richards.
That boy's
one mean motherfucker.
$200 on Richards!
Come on!
200 on Richards!
$200 on Richards!
Come on!
Just do it?
Yeah, just do it.
Write it down, man.
- You want it? You got it.
- Yeah. All right!
Place your bet! 2-5!
Secret broadcast center, my ass! I don't
know what Laughlin was talking about.
There's nothing out here.
Me and my big mouth! We should
have taken that trip to Hawaii.
I had the shirt for it,
but you fucked it up.
Jesus Christ!
Guess again.
You're dead, sucker!
Come on. Keep up.
I'm running too fast.
My feet can't keep up!
There he goes!
The number-one rusher!
He smells blood...
and nothing on earth
is gonna stop him!
Wait. I don't want to go.
Here. This way.
Why here?
I want to go that way.
Let go of me.
Put me down.
You're going to get us killed.
Stop it!
Let me go!
Burn 'em good!
Amber, get out of here!
Go! Now!
Amber!
Richards.
Richards.
Richards.
Whitman.
And Price.
Haddad.
They're Running Men.
Last season's winners.
No. Last season's losers.
My gas line!
My gas line!
Go to commercial!
How about a light?
What a hothead.
- Bye-bye, Fireball!
- All right!
Yeah, Richards!
Captain Freedom to wardrobe
on the double.
Forget it, Killian!
I won't do it.
It's not a request, moron.
It's an order.
I don't need this crap.
This stuff is... garbage!
L...
I was killin' guys like this
ten years ago with my bare hands!
I'm not going
for any of these tricks.
This is a sport
of death and honor.
Code of the gladiators!
Will you spare me
the combat Zen speech.
What the hell's
the matter with you?
Can't you see what's going on
out there?
This isn't a game!
They're betting on
Richards up there!
Bullshit!
Get outta here!
Get him out of here!
What's the matter?
Steroids make you deaf?
Get him out of here now!
Now what?
Let's find Mic's
secret broadcast center...
if it even exists.
Oh, shit!
Let's try that way.
We'