Keyes, you all right?
Keyes, it's over here!
Come on! Switch over!
Shit! l can't see!
They're gone.
They're all dead.
You want me? Here l am!
You are one
ugly mother...
Motherfucker!
Guess who's back.
Too late to go home now.
Get out of here, Harrigan.
l'm gonna save your ass.
This is between me and him!
God...
Birds.
Damn birds.
OK, pussyface.
lt's your move.
Shit happens.
Oh, God.
That's all l need is birds.
You can do it.
l can do it.
lt's like falling off a log.
Like a 30-storey log. Damn!
Maybe l'll get lucky and fall.
Damn it.
The final Jeopardy answer is this:
Berengaria, who never set foot in England,
was its queen for eight years
after marrying this king on Cyprus.
Good luck.
Herb?
Herb, wake up!
There's somebody in the bathroom.
- lt's all right. l'm a cop.
- l don't think he gives a shit.
Shit!
Get back inside!
Holy Moses. Not again. Shit!
Son of a bitch.
Oh, God.
Why can't this guy stay on the ground?
Come on, come on.
Come to Papa.
Stop! Stop the elevator!
Stop it!
Now where the hell am l?
Where are you?
Jesus Christ.
That's right, asshole!
Shit happens!
OK. Who's next?
Take it.
''1715.''
Harrigan!
What the fuck happened in there?
Goddamn it. We came so close!
Don't worry, asshole.
You'll get another chance.[Bird Screeches]
[Scanning Radio Transmissions]
The heat wave continues. 
It's 109 degrees
in Los Angeles. 
[Screaming And Gunfire]
As drought-ridden Los Angeles...
swelters in agonizing heat...
drug lords wage warfare
in the streets.
Yet another open conflict...
Fuck this.
Get me out of here!
Aah!
We're in a war zone.
Two motorcycle officers
horribly wounded...
in a deadly cross fire...
the police seemingly unable
to rescue them...
in spite of several
desperate, heroic attempts.
It's completely
out of control down here.
My beautiful cantina,
everything I own...
they shot it to pieces.
My microwave...
my tamale steamer, my grill...
you fucking pendejos!
[Automatic Gunfire]
Ah ha ha!
Fuck you!
Tony Pope,
live with Hard Core... 
on the scene
and in your face.
It's like Dante's Hell
down here...
Smoke, fire,
oppressive heat...
As Colombian
and Jamaican drug fiends...
once again transform
the streets of L. A...
into a slaughterhouse.
Who the hell's in charge down here?
The cops? Uh-uh.
They're outmanned, outgunned...
and incompetent.
Mr. Mayor, on vacation
at your home in Tahoe...
get off your butt,
get down here...
and declare martial law.
Don't keep me in suspense,
Danny boy.
It has not been a nice day.
Two motorists
pulled over a truck...
stumbled in the middle
of a narc stakeout.
You know, 10 Colombians
and Scorpios...
Told them to fuck off.
They're trying to get
inside their headquarters.
We're keeping them
pinned down...
but those officers
are bleeding to death.
Fuck, they're dying, man.
And where the hell
is Special Weapons?
They're tied up
with that shootout in San Pedro...
getting their ass kicked
by the Jamaicans.
They shot down a chopper.
Mills and Johnson
won't last much longer.
We need an assault vehicle
to go get them.
I'm going to have a chat
with these assholes.
- When I give the signal, give me some cover.
- Got it.
Too small.
That's it.
Come on!
Get them
out of here! Now!
ЎVamanos!
Get them out!
ЎVamanos!
Ahh!
Hey, assholes!
Mike, are you okay?
Yeah. Let's get
the rest of them.
We can't.
Orders from
Chief Heinemann.
He says secure perimeter,
surround building, and wait.
Wait for what?
I don't know...
some bullshit special unit...
the Feds, the DEA.
If we let them dig in...
we'll have to level
the building.
ЎO, me gusta!
No, es para mi. 
ЎVamanos!
ЎVamanos!
ЎVenga!
ЎVenga!
[Speaking Spanish]
Come and get it.
El Scorpio is ready.
[Glass Shatters]
Sarge, any of your