Defendor

Αrthur?

Αrthur.

Yeah.

Are you thinking about the question?

Mm...

Are you Japanese?

No.

Mieko Tatsuri is Japanese.

Oh. Who is Mieko Tatsuri?

She's the leader of Βlowback.

Her...

father is a ninja and her mother is an alien from the gamma sector.

- Okay. Well, l'm Korean. From Εarth.

Ha!

ls that going to be on the test?

No. There's no test.

Well, l thought...

l thought l was being tested.

- No. This is an evaluation, Arthur. lt's different than a test.

Can we get back to the question?

Okay.

Why did you assault Mr. Debrofkowitz?

Debrofkowitz... Debrofkowitz...

Debrofkowitz... Debrofkowitz. Debrofkowitz?

- Hmm-mm. You smashed up his dry cleaning business.

Hmm.

Top secret.

Look out, termites.

lt's squishing time.

- There's a couple of options here.

One, the cops in this town are incompetent.

Two, they're under-funded and that's a real possibility.

And three, they're crooked.

How do you think this city got its nickname? "Hammertown."

How about some freakin' music?

Fuck you. l like this guy.

l'm sure you do. He's a dink.

- Are you going to work for it or are you going to pay for it?

What's this?

- lt's like a present. You have to wrap it.

- No, no. That's not going to work for me, honey.

- Yeah, well, using nothing's not going to work for me. So...

- Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?

What was that?

Who was that? Hey, where you going?

Garbage days.

Remember the garbage days.

Stop! You're hurting my arm.

- Well, that's just an occupational hazard, honey.

- Stop, Dooney! Chill the fuck out! - Come on, come on.

- Come on. Let's just do this slow. We can make it last.

- Yeah. That's what l want. - Relax!

- That's what l want. - Okay.

- Do it slow. That's it. Make it last. That's it.

Hey, there's, uh...

been a misunderstanding.

Step out of the car, please.

Hey, buddy...

That's my line.

Chuck Dooney,

Drug Squad.

Who the fuck are you supposed to be?

Your worst nightmare.

Go on. Make like a rocket.

Take off. - Ah, you messed up.

l want Captain lndustry.

Who?

Listen, fuck head! l don't know who you're talking about.

Wrong answer.

There you go, hon.

Just taking a break.

Then l'm going to get back to work.

Uh-huh.

Hmm...

: To all officers. White male, six feet tall,

dressed in black tights with silver trim.

Wanted on a 245A.

Assaulting an officer with a deadly weapon.

- There you go. - Apprehend with caution.

Hey, partner?

- Cream and sugar, Mikey. Cream and sugar.

Uh...

Get your fucking hands up right now!

Βehind your head, come on! Let's go!

lt's the camera?

Yeah, which feeds into this... VCR.

That business with Dooney.

ls he pressing charges?

- No, says he wants it done the old-fashioned way.

'Course he does.

- Stupid dumb cops. Dumb stupid cops.

- Name? - Nah, he stonewalled me.

Captain, this guy is, uh...

he's pretty funny.

He, uh... he says

he wants to call a truce. - A vigilante?

No. No, he's a superhero.

He calls himself...

Defendor.

And that's with an O-R, Captain. lt's not an Ε-R.

Defendor.

And he flips out if you get that wrong. lt's very bizarre.

Commissioner, this is outrageous.

Yeah. Yeah, sure it is.

Why don't you, uh... calm down and have a seat?

My grandfather fought in the trenches in the Great War.

l remember him showing me one of these.

Was your grandfather an infantryman?

Yes, he was.

- Probably passed on to his reward now, hasn't he?

lt's twenty... twenty...

Twenty...

Twenty-six years ago. - Uh-huh.

l wonder if your grandfather and my grandfather

bumped into each other up there.

What did you say his name was? - Henry Poppington.

Hmm.

Wouldn't surprise me.

Pretty sturdy weapon you got here.

- lt has the blood of a thousand Germans on it.

Does it have the blood

of an undercover policeman on it? Huh?

You strike one of my officers with this?

No.

When you break the law,

you're a punk.

When you break the law with a badge,

you're a punk with a badge.

l don't strike officers.

Punks?

Different story.

- Well, you strike me as a man of great integrity.

Great men know each other by name.

Roger Fairbanks.

Arthur Poppington.

- Some nice work in there. lt's very Columbo.

- Yeah, run Arthur Poppington through the system,

see what comes up.

Confiscate his trench club.

Give him back his marbles and the rest of his stuff

and send him on his way, huh?

All right, so here's your marbles.

Stay out of trouble, all right?

- Trouble has a way of following me.

Where's my trench club?

- Nah, forget about that. Just run along and get some sleep...

Defendor.

- There are at least eight ways to break out of this dump.

l'm taking the front door.

l think,

for a large portion of your life, you've been misunderstood.

And now,

at this stage, more people...

Okay. Okay, you sit. You sit down.

Okay.

Do you remember what we were talking about?

Let me assure you, Arthur, that whatever you say here

is for the judge's ears only.

And mine, of course.

Totally classified?

Totally.

: Seriously, on my drive home, I go through these neighbourhoods.

I see these girls out there.

They can't be more than 16 years old.

Do you think I'm joking? I'm not.

What is this? Thailand?

Because if we're going to stand for this, hell, let's advertise.

"Come on down to the Hammer and have sex with our children!"

At least that way we'll bring in the tourists.

All right, let's go to the tribal brain trust and see what's out there.

Line three, go ahead.

You should be ashamed of yourself,

to suggest exploiting those poor girls.

It's disgusting. - Lady, it's called sarcasm.

Hello? Hello? All right, she hung up.

Next caller, you're on the air.

- Argh! Fuckin' guy! - Come on, man!

Don't walk away!

Come on! l'm just messin' with you, man!

- You got to learn how to laugh a little bit, Cliff!

Lighten up! Light...

Hey. Hey.

Now, what are you doing with our wall over here?

Εh? Hey, come here. Come here.

Somebody... somebody call the police!

: Police! Call the police!

We're sick and tired of having people like you deface our city walls!

- Why don't you pick on someone your own size?

Βoys, this is, uh...

This is the retard that l was telling you about.

l thought they got you. Did they, uh...?

Why don't you let the kid go?

- Who writes your dialogue? Superman?

No. l write it myself.

- You know what? You need a good ghost writer.

Somebody with talent.

No.

You need a ghost writer.

'Cause that's what you're going to be after l pulverize you.

Well, what's that?