Ghost Source Zero

It puts the garbage in the bag.

It isn't garbage.

It puts the garbage in the bag.-MAYA: Cool.

Stop it.

So, when they corrected my astigmatism,

it was no big deal to build in a holo-projector.

-Are you Maya? -Yeah.

Come with me.

No. Help!

What is that, what is that?-MAYA: Help! Help!

Don't do that, okay? Don't do that, okay?

Don't do that. Don't do that, okay?

Don't do that, okay?

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.

I need more money.

We've been paying you handsomely for two years.

And have seen very little in the way of results.

My tremors are getting worse.

I cannot put off...

the neurographic procedure any longer.

That's an expensive operation.

How do we know it's worth our while?

I've done it.

The ghosting.

I've mapped the consciousness of a human

and transferred it into a robot.

It's all on these drives.

This...

this is my life's work.

Now, there are some glitches in the program,

which I can tweak,

once my operation is complete.

The conditions of your contract require

completion before final payment.

We can make an exception for our friend Sergei Akhmadov.

Yeah.

Arrange for a neural graft procedure immediately.

Saint Claire's Hospital has

the best neurological suite in the city.

They have the latest of DaVinci surgical bots.

You see? Everybody is happy!

Yes, we're happy.

- It's amazing. Blow jobs. - Oh, my God, yeah.

I mean, the mouth works fantastic. Right?

Yeah, I tried it out.

No, Well, yeah, I tried it out. And it they'’re like...

- Great. - ...all different types

of races.

Yeah! Is it as tight as they say?

It is definitely as tight as they say.

Fire teams Bravo and Charlie are in position, Captain.

Captain.

Captain. Radio.

Warnock here.

We're assisting Charlie, en route to Alpha.

Yeah. Pinch-hitters are here.

Fuck you, Striker.

Oh, Captain Warnock.

I see you decided to get your feet wet.

Crenshaw, put Peter and Wendy on auto and send them in low--

Negative on the drones, Striker.

Possible non-combatants on site. You take point, personally.

Again? You got the ass for me, or what?

I hate your guts like everybody else.

You're the best damn door-kicker I've got.

Damn right.

All right, let's get this throw down jumping.

Bradshaw, keep the drones in reserve.

I'm first through the door.

O'Reilly, you're behind me on the left.

You kill anything I miss.

Let's go.

And so you know, if I let you try mine,

-you gotta let me try yours. -Yeah.

-And the self-cleaning ones too? -Self-cleaning?

-Yes, they self-clean. -Oh.

I mean, you could just go-- Hold on, wait a minute.

Fucking waste of protoplasm.

Freeze! Drop it!

A fucking cyborg.

Warnock! Grenade launcher!

Give me my cigar.

It's a bad habit, Cap.

So is losing men.

Wilkie, message HQ.

Tell them we need two Category One

-replacements ASAP. -Roger that.

Uh, we have two Category--

Cocksucker...

I thought you said this place was clear.

Roger that!

Correction, HQ, We need three replacements.

- This way is clear! - Hey Captain, we need you.

Goddamn hard-wire farm.

Sometimes humanity makes me wanna puke.

This is why.

-How many more rooms like this? -About a dozen.

We're secure here.

Yablonski and Berger are clearing the rest of the crib.

Hey Captain.

You better come take a look at this.

'Borg thought he was cute, waiting in the cut.

What the hell is that?

That's progress, Rothstein.

By the end of 2052, Oon Tong was by far

the largest multinational crime syndicate in the world.

Based in Indonesia, the company had satellite offices

in nearly every major city on the planet.

Uh, Dubai, Singapore, Neo Tokyo...

Software, hardware, weapons,

after-market modifications of every kind.

Exponential growth in the last five years.

They had this incredible ability to drop into any market

and identify any unmet demand.

They traded as a black market stock with a 4.9 PE

and a 1.5 percent dividend yield.

Very profitable!

Uh, even if those, uh, those exchanges are banned

by the SEC.

In any case, those financials were beginning to shift

as the Oon Tong increased their cash reserves.

It's expensive for a corporation to enter new markets.

Launching new product lines requires

a great deal of startup capital.

Chimera-7 reports the Patterson location

has been compromised.

And?

That was part of our pilot program.

Should we make a, um, notification?

As we were instructed.

I just don't want to get anything

that's gonna make me sick.

General Tso's chicken.

And can I have a small egg roll, please?

I'm pretty sure he's already got a small egg roll.

That's not what your mom said last night.

What did you say?

It was hard to understand her with her mouth full.

Sounded like...

Say that again.

You're a real tough guy, huh?

Think you can take both of us on?

Oh, I forgot,

- don't all you chinks know that Kung Fu shit?

Not all of us. Just me.

Yeah?

No, stop! No!

No, no, no, no!

No, no, no, no, no!

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Please, please, please, please!

- Please, I was just-- - Just what?

Being an asshole?

Freeze! Federal agents!

Put your hands on your head!

Don't shoot! Don't shoot!-

You're under arrest for the unauthorized militarization

of an android, and murder.

Oh God, oh God, where's my mom?

No sudden movements!

Release control of the puppet.

Put down the controller now!

-But, I'm not-- -Put it down now!

What the fuck.

Remember this bust when you're at the polls.

If the wrong side wins,

androids might actually have rights.

Our 17-year-old suspect would be looking at a mere slap on the wrist.

And his chop-socky android, twenty to life.

Hey!

Think about the global terrorists...

being absolved of the atrocities their suicide 'borgs commit.

Long time no see, Captain. Are you still with the D-9?

How's life in the slow lane, Chavez?

It's good. More time for the kid, you know.

How's the arm?

Broke the punk's jaw, didn't I?

You still range qualified on the M-501?

-In the field. -I need you.

-Damn straight, who else? -I put Category One requests.

Still dreaming, huh?

So these online gaming communities,

they're bigger than some Third World countries.

The Oon Tong has hundreds of sweatshop locales, hundreds,

linked into them. They're called nodes.

And we've raided so many of their nodes

that they've started guarding them with weaponized cyborgs.

- Do it! - Come on!

Do it now! Yeah sucker!

We've been hitting them hard, scoring a good burn-down rate.

Going mano a mano with those mooks

who can't feel pain and aren't afraid of dying,

is like skinny dipping in a piranha tank.

I shit you not.

What they were guarding were partial lobotomized slaves.

All connected on a neural network 24/7.

They're accounting systems,

usually some off-the-shelf hardware.

But this time we found something else.

Hang loose.

I gotta let Senator Pastori bend my ear