Zombie Massacre

What?

l can't hear you.

Tell me there's no range in this fucking place.

Yeah, great.

l really need it some way.

Listen, Mike.

l'm stopping in a city five minutes from here

so l can try and call you back from a fixed phone line.

Jack Stone.

35 years old.

Four of which spent in lraq.

Medal of the Congress.

An expert in high-risk missions.

A capable man in every aspect.

So tell me, General.

What on earth makes you think this

capable man will accept a mission like this?

ln exchange for his freedom.

Stone is currently detained in a six-by-nine-foot cell

where he's serving a life sentence.

What could a man in his position

desire more than his freedom?

And what's he been charged with?

Treason and murder, Mr. Secretary,

but l'll spare you the details.

A widower with a seven-year-old daughter

he hasn't seen since he was detained.

Still...

a capable man with great strategic skills

a natural leader.

But as l said... a Mr. Nobody

with no one left waiting for him.

No one apart from his daughter.

Why do you think he accepted the mission, sir?

So you're absolutely sure

that Stone will carry out this mission

without suspecting anything?

Absolutely.

l will personally travel to Romania

and follow the situation closely.

The Romanian government has already been informed.

Everything will proceed as planned.

Rojznov is...

nothing more than a small dormitory town,

with the power plant workers

and theirfamilies in the middle of nowhere.

The explosion will erase any trace of the laboratory

in the building.

But how can we be sure

that Stone can carry out this mission on his own?

Well, that's simple.

Because he won't be on his own.

John ''Mad Dog'' McKellen...

AKA, The Specialist,

expert in explosives and firearms.

He could build a lethal weapon

just with a glass and a pencil sharpener.

To Mr. McKellen, we owe the explosion

of the Congress Palace of Johannesburg in 1997.

More than 50 people died in the bombing.

Dragan llic...

the sniper.

They say during the Kosovo War,

Mr. llic killed more than 300 people

without ever leaving his position, ever.

He could shoot a mouse dead from over a mile away.

Eden Shizuka.

Unbeatable in hand-to-hand combat.

Now, she will be indispensible

should our men find themself

in a difficult situation and low on ammo.

She learned how to fight from some

scatter brained monk in Japan

where she'd moved from Northern lreland

with her mother-- but that's not important.

So l guess you're gonna tell me that

they all have a daughter

- waiting for them at home. - No.

l will tell you,

they will each have $2 million

waiting in their bank accounts.

They are soldiers of fortune, Mr. Secretary.

Mercenaries.

They would do anything for money.

So the money we offer them

will help keeping their mouth shut.

At least until they have left for the mission.

How can we be sure that there will be no survivors?

There could be a family somewhere

hidden away, waiting to be rescued.

With all due respect, sir,

l would be more worried should someone divulge

what we did to that city.

Theoretically, we should not have been active

in that part of Europe.

l urge you to bear in mind we are very short on time.

We would not be able to sustain

a possible virus propagation.

Those... monsters

could eventually find a way to escape

the security perimeter,

and we don't have a cure.

Not since our dear Doc Neumann passed away.

And there's no trace of his daughter.

Oh, yes, we we did search for her,

but, well, the situation was already critical.

But should we find that she is still alive,

then we will bring her in.

You can be sure of that.

Now is the time to act.

The ground water tables have been sealed

and the toxicity of the cloud has vanished.

Rojznov has now been quarantined.

But those things are infected.

One would be enough to infect

the whole country in a matter of hours,

and in a few days, the world!

May God forgive us all.

Look at them run.

Just like chickens.

Uh-huh.

Why run when, just around the corner,

someone is about to blow up a nuclear power plant

to exterminate the whole or whatever them things are?

ln fact, they're like a bunch of rabid dogs.

- Do you know what, Dragan? - Eh?

This is turning out not to be a picnic in the park.

You're getting soft, my friend.

Remember Laos?

lt's never gonna be worse than that.

Aye, l remember.

But every time we seem to get ourselves in bigger shit.

C'est la vie, mon ami.

Just think about big bucks.

That should set up your mind with ease.

All soldiers get ready for evacuation.

Aye, l'll think about it.

You know what? What?

This is my last gig.

Let's just blow up these shitheads,

level this place.

And then l can get my ass

in a first-class seat...

all the way to the mountains.

l'm gonna open a restaurant on the beach.

You?

l cannot picture you wearing a bermuda,

some flowery Hawaiian shirt.

But you do like my haggis and leeks, don't you?

Hell no.

The only thing your slop is good

is for maneuvering the fields.

Seriously.

l'm no longer subject for your

exotic culinary experiments.

They always ended up in a hurricane of shit.

Do you know what?

lt's always with a skinny-ass like you,

as you didn't like eating.

l'm so sorry to spoil your self-glorification,

but l love eating,

as much as l care what happens after.

l don't like when your ''cookings''

get from my mouth to my guts.

lt's some nasty shit, believe me.

You don't want to know.

All personnel prepare for evacuation.

You're right.

You're full of shit.

Do you know there's a saying?

No.

lf you do not like eating,

then you probably don't like fucking, either.

Your mother never complained.

And l'm pretty sure it was something like,

if you can't cook...

you can't fuck.

Well, my friend...

l can cook.

Yup.

And l can lick my own balls.

Really?

What do you say, princess?

Do you like cooking?

l'd love to see you in the kitchen,

jumping from pot to pan,

with nothing on...

but a teeny-weeny apron.

Save a bullet, will you?

Give up, my friend.

Women are never very talkative people like us.

Deep down, they know we can show them paradise

beneath the sheets,

and they feel it in their guts.

Give up?

Me?

Are you kidding?

Right.

What do you say, princess?

How about you and me