You can find a good household.
Do right.
You're a butler before you're 40.
I wanna be my own man.
Nobody's their own man, son.
Nobody.
I started up a security firm.
You are way too softhearted to be a businessman.
You'll be eaten up.
Yeah, well, we'll see, won't we?
You were in the army?
Ten years.
I'll have no more to do with it now.
Peaceful life for me.
I am so sorry.
Thomas Wayne.
My card.
Pennyworth Security.
Mr.
Pennyworth, I'm Martha Kane.
How can I help you, Ms.
Kane?
I have a job for you.
Ten thousand quid, and she's got plenty more work for us.
What's the bad news?
She's a No Name.
Why is a nice American society girl like you mixed up with the No Name League?
I could ask the same of you.
I got a distinct sense they know.
They know I'm CIA.
Will you marry me?
Yes.
Yes, I will.
Esme!
You knew who k*lled Esme and you covered it up.
I don't trust you.
Never have, never will.
The Raven Society, they want to overthrow the government and set up a fascist utopia.
My name is James Harwood.
That man tortured me.
He has to die.
You?
Why aren't you dead?
I've got important friends, mate.
Will you come with me?
Well, I have a battle ahead.
I'll need a lot of friends.
My God.
James.
Hello, Frances.
I will destroy my enemies and lead this country back to greatness.
Wait, we're starting a civil w*r.
Harwood is staging a coup.
He's got the army outside, and he's abducted the Queen.
Your Majesty.
You must never tell anyone about this.
Not so.
Who'd believe me?
You said that you like me.
I find that I like you too.
Thomas!
All is not yet lost.
A great leader prepares for every possibility.
You have to promise me that you'll always think well of me whatever people might say.
He was upset about all that Raven Society lot.
Why?
He's not one of them.
Shut it!
Dad, don't do this.
I'm sorry, son.
God bless England!
Honestly, I really don't know.
They didn't tell me.
Why would they?
I swear on my children's life, I don't know anything!
You shouldn't swear on your children's lives.
Not when you're lying.
I am not lying.
What are your kids' names?
Terry and Sharon.
It's the little one's birthday tomorrow.
The wife will be worried sick.
Please, miss, have a heart.
Do I look like I have a heart?
Yeah, you do.
You look like a good, kind person.
I'm not.
Tell me what you know or Terry and Sharon will never see you again.
I can't tell you what I don't know, can I?
I don't even care about politics.
I never wanted any part of this sh*t.
I don't know anything!
You can't do this.
I think I can.
Swan's Farm...
Garton Magna.
Thank you.
Union cops!
Open up!
She's in here!
Help!
Oi!
Hey!
MAN 2: Get her!
Come here!
Now!
A year has passed since Lord Harwood escaped captivity and began the armed struggle.
How things have changed.
England is once again a land of hope and glory.
The people of Norwich came out in their cheerful thousands to celebrate liberation by Raven Union forces.
"England rejoice," declared Lord Harwood to the happy throng.
"Final victory is near." The leftist factions will soon be driven from Manchester and Liverpool.
And then onward to London.
Oops.
Look out, Mother.
The little one wants to join in!
Forward, we go, one and all, marching merrily to victory.
Lord Harwood is a formidable character.
A year ago, whilst locked up in the Tower of London, he contrived to blow up the prime minister and most of the political establishment, freeing himself and sparking a civil w*r.
He aims to establish himself as a fascist m*llitary dictator under the flag of the Raven Union.
The Union's opponents, that is, The Queen, surviving moderates, the old No Name League, and anybody else not fascist, are working together in what they call The English League.
Formally, the Queen's in charge, but actual power is in the hands of a High Council of 20 or so delegates, led by the Prime Minister, Archbishop Potter.
A shitfest.
Yes, ma'am.
They're not well organized.
And the Union have the regular Army on their side.
They have tanks, a*tillery, and manpower.
And they're up against poorly-armed, poorly-led civilians.
As of now, the Union controls 90% of the country.
The League still holds London north of the river but they're surrounded and under siege.
Once the Union takes London, that's the ballgame.
They win.
It'll make Arkham Asylum look like a country club.
Tragic but inevitable, no?
Well, the US m*llitary could intervene, as I've respectfully recommended in my addendum.
The Raven Union are evil sons of b*tches but they're gonna win, right?
Right.
So, officially, we're neutral, but we're gonna be nice to them as discreetly as we can.
You were doing a fine job over there, Thomas.
We want you to go back as station chief.
Well, thank you.
I'm, ahem-- I'm honored.
If you can't work with the program, this is where you get to step out gracefully.
Are you with us 100%?
Yes, ma'am.
One hundred percent.
Then go kick some ass for us.
Nice!
Doing good?
MAN: Thank you, darling.
Tell me what's wrong.
You'll say I'm being neurotic.
Tell me anyway.
Yesterday, I nearly k*lled a man in cold blood.
But you didn't.
I'm turning mean and hard, Victor.
You went behind enemy lines and came back with information that could change the course of the w*r.
I like you.
It's just, um...
Sometimes I scare myself.
You're being neurotic.
I beg your pardon!
I said out with the loony old twat, huh?
And what?
Oh, f*ck off, mate.
What the f*ck are you doing, you bastard, huh?
You f*cking mad?
Good evening, gentlemen, ladies.
The man insulted his grace, Lord Harwood.
Vile obscenities.
I won't have it.
I'll f*cking have you, mate.
You're dead.
Shut it, Dobson.
Get this idiot out of here now.
You're dead, mate.
Dead.
Yeah?
You don't know who I am.
But I do, mate.
Don't come back.
I won't.
Ugh!
f*ck off!
How'd you get filth like that in here?
There's a w*r on, sir.
We welcome everybody, regardless.
Your first time here, I expect.
Our policy is no politics, no firearms.
Everyone rubs along together and enjoys themselves.
Sheri.
This gentleman forgot to check his firearm.
Perhaps you'll check it into the cloakroom for him.
Take care of it.
Valuable w*apon.
Your w*apon's perfectly safe with us.
Oh, yeah.
Nice piece.
German engineering, eh?
Can't b*at it.
Thanks, Sheri.
No worries, Alfie.
She'll bring you a ticket.
Very soon, we're going to overrun this little sanctuary of yours.
You'll learn to show more respect to Union officers.
Respect?
Madame, gentlemen, enjoy your evening.
How's your night going?
The man's correct, you know?
You should learn to be more respectful.
You should have thrown him out on his ass.
He was drinking champagne.
He gets one free b*llet.
Congratulations, by the way.
I hear you've been promoted to the League's High Council.
Oh.
A poison chalice, old boy.
Commiserations would be more appropriate.
You have real champagne here?
Nah.
Chateau Bermondsey.
I have some proper single malt if you fancy it though.
Splendid.
If we might repair to your office, we have business to discuss.
For a simple abduction?
That's outrageous.
That's dollars, mind you.
Plus expenses.
You asked half that for the last job.
Apples and oranges.
Abducting's much more technical than blotting.
No doubt.
I shan't haggle with you.
Ten percent up front.
That's the people's money.
That could be spent on feeding refugees, or buying arms or medicine.
Someone woke up grumpy today.
What will you spend it on?
Fast cars, loose women...
And the rest of it, he'll squander.
He's teasing you, Martha.
It's very sad to see you like this, Alfred.
You used to have moral principles.
I used to have a teddy bear too.
Toby.
Wore a little hat and a red jacket.
This is the chap.
Colonel John Salt of the Union Militia.
More of an admin type than any kind of soldier.
Ran a chain of groceries before the w*r.
Why do you want him?
He's available.
Where is he?
He has a mistress in a place called Swan's Farm, Garton Magna, in Rutland.
He shows up at random times but at least once a week.
Consider it done.
Yeah.
At your prices, I should hope so.
I like that woman.
Fiery.
How we doing?
Yeah, with this month's takings and a couple more good side jobs, we're sorted.
I like the fiery ones.
You know where you're at.
It's the quiet ones, you don't know what you're thinking.
What's he on about?
Women.
What does he know about women?
America, boys.
America.
We're on our way.
A fella was telling me it's all lies, what you see in the films.
Stands to reason they make it look better than it is.
Well, if it's half as good as it looks, it's twice as good as here.
Hmm.
We'll see.
Stay here if you want, mate.
No.
No.
I'm coming.
You just don't get rid of me that easy.
Slangevar.
Cheers.
Hello again, Mrs.
P.
Oh, hello, Your Majesty.
I'll see if he's in.
It's her again.
I'm not here.
On a job.
I'm sorry, ma'am.
He's not in.
On a job, he says.
I see.
Tell him he's a cruel beast and I despise him.
Yes, ma'am.
She says you're a cruel beast and she despises you.
Message received.
Third time she's called this week.
Mm-hmm.
I'll talk to her next time.
She does go on.
You'd think she'd have better things to do.
I have a job out of town.
I'll be gone a few days, I expect.
Well, it's good money.
We'll soon have enough to go.
Go?
To America.
I was talking to Mrs.
Applebaum who knows these things, and she says it costs thousands and thousands to get a visa, and then when you get there, a bottle of milk costs two pound.
Don't you worry about money.
I'm sorting that.
Did you look at the brochure I gave you?
What about California, eh?
Now, there's a place.
Sunshine, fresh fruit.
We could have a house in an orange grove.
Very nice, if you like that sort of thing.
You like an orange.
I like cabbages too.
Don't mean I wanna live in a cabbage patch.
America's a big place.
There's every kind of house you can imagine.
I have a house already.
I don't wanna go to America.
You don't know your own mind, Mum.
You'll change your mind once you get there, you'll see.
I won't.
We can't stay here.
I don't see why not.
The Raven Union is gonna att*ck London before the year's out.
There'll be a proper argy-bargy.
Bombs, tanks, fires, looting.
Here.
Your father's a big hero to the Raven Union.
A martyr.
They'll treat me very well, I expect.
Do you really wanna be around all these sad memories?
What sad memories?
I loved your father.
I like to be reminded of him.
I don't.
This house, this whole city is nothing but sad memories.
It's where I k*lled my own father.
It's where Esme d*ed.
I can't stay here, Mum.
I have to go.
I'm not saying you shouldn't.
You should.
What?
And leave you on your own?
That's life.
I haven't got much of it left anyway.
Stop!
That's it.
Swan's Farm.
Now we wait.
Stick the kettle on, Baz.
You in the front, pick up the pace!
Go on, keep it moving!
Come on, move it.
Get up there with him!
Hang on.
Move on.
Go on.
Keep moving.
Go on.
Over there.
What are you looking at?
Stop it.
Leave him alone!
That's enough, lads.
Stand down.
Norfolk's finest, eh?
How are we?
All right?
Good.
I'm Captain Sykes.
Have you not heard of deodorant?
Co-Op do a good one.
You can't b*at the Co-Op, can you?
Quality and value.
Now then, we're charging you with subversion and conspiring to commit violent acts.
And...
I don't care if you're Herman and his f*cking Hermits.
You're here.
It's job on.
You'll be interviewed, given an opportunity to confess.
If you've nowt to confess, think of something.
Goes easier for all of us.
We keep our quota, you keep your wellbeing.
Any questions?
No?
Good.
Says here, there's brothels out West, where all the girls are dead ringers for Hollywood film stars.
Imagine that, eh?
You told us that two days ago.
Worth repeating.
I suspect you'll be disappointed.
If there's restaurants that look like dinosaurs, I don't see why there cannot be tarts that look like film stars.
Restaurants like dinosaurs?
Dinosaurs, pal.
Hats, cakes, all sorts.
What's the point?
Once you're inside, you can't see they're dinosaurs.
Well, I agree, but it supports the tarts and film stars proposition.
Two Rovers bracketing a Jag.
Taking the farm road.
He's our boy.
Colonel John Salt.
Nice.
Dark in three hours.
I'll have a kip.
Oh, my poor hero...
You must be exhausted.
A drink?
A bath?
Mm-hmm.
Dinner?
In that order.
Sherry please, my dear.
Where would you like your guest, sir?
In the workshop please, Hobbes.
I'll be along shortly.
Sorry to bring work with me again.
There's always more to be done, you see.
Oh, no, no...
What you do is so important.
I don't mind.
It's rather thrilling actually, being part of it all.
What do you want for dinner?
We have steak or chicken.
I've had my quota of red meat for the week, so chicken.
Then chicken it shall be.
Who have you caught?
What did they do?
I never say names.
You know that.
Are there cutlets?
I couldn't manage a whole bird.
Cutlets, it is.
I'll make that lemon sauce you like.
So, Katie Browning, how long have you been engaged in subversive activity?
Haven't.
I'm a student.
Oh.
What of?
Art.
I like art.
Mother's maiden name?
Don't know.
Why not?
I'm a foundling.
Hmm.
"Doesn't know." "Foundling." I hate these forms.
They don't make the bloody boxes big enough.
Now, let's see...
"List the names of all those persons you know to be members of subversive organizations." No.
I said...
List the names of all those persons you know to be members of subversive organizations.
I don't know anyone.
Do you not?
Then think on.
I don't...
know...
anyone.
The gaffer wants names.
Best keep him happy.
He's not fond of subversives.
I'm not a subversive.
You're the subversive.
Then I'd be sat in your little room, wouldn't I?
But I'm not.
You're sat in my little room.
I wouldn't keep anyone in a room.
I'm not a fascist.
Nor me.
Politics, eh?
Bloody waste of time.
Why are you here then?
I'm not allowed to answer personal questions.
Unprofessional.
Now, come on.
Be a love.
Give us some names.
Maybe you just like being mean.
See that little box there?
That's the uncooperative box.
I put a tick in that, not good.
Gaffer gets involved and you'd be sent to the lads in the remedial annex.
You haven't answered my question.
What's that?
Why are you here?
I'm here because I'm here.
Same as you.
Now, I've got other folk to interview.
You have a think.
You have a think.
Dad, hide.
There's someone upstairs.
All right, lads?
Who are they?
You tell me.
I thought they were with you.
What's your name?
Alfie.
Huh?
That's funny.
I had a son called Alfie.
But he d*ed.
Cheers.
Another bad dream, huh?
Yeah.
Daveboy's mum again.
You should be so lucky.
Good evening, George.
Welcome.
I'm honored to have such a distinguished guest.
Who are you?
Everybody says you're a very brave man, Mr Orwell.
What everybody says is usually wrong.
Hm.
Back in the Raven Society days, before the w*r, I worked at a place we called Room 101.
A t*rture chamber really.
One soon discovers that very few people are truly brave.
Most of what we call bravery is stupidity, or ignorance, or a lack of imagination.
Please, tell me who you are.
My name is Salt.
You write clever books, so you're not stupid or ignorant...
which means either you lack imagination, or you're that rare man of true courage.
Mr.
Salt, what do you want from me?
I suspect an imagination deficit.
I suspect you sat there in your ivory tower and simply couldn't imagine that your mockery of a noble cause would have consequences.
When word gets out that you have abducted me, there will be an outcry.
An international outcry.
True.
But, Mr. Orwell, suppose, for a moment, that word doesn't get out.
Suppose nobody knows where you are.
Suppose you simply...
vanished?
Imagine that.
What do you want from me?
Hmm.
Let's start with repentance.
Repentance?
Fine.
You'll have it.
I repent.
I'll sign whatever you like.
Just let me go.
I repent.
Signing bits of paper is not repentance!
Repentance comes from your heart.
My heart.
Christ.
All right.
I repent in my heart.
Believe me, at this moment, I am truly repentant.
Very good.
If you're sincere, I'll let you go.
You have to swear on your honor that you'll never write another word against us.
I swear.
Not another word.
As God is your witness?
As God is my witness, I swear.
You're lying, Mr. Orwell.
But I was lying too.
Your repentance is worthless.
I just wanted you to confirm my analysis of your character.
And you did.
I'm not lying.
You're just the usual type of man.
A cowardly hypocrite.
Hmm.
Pardon me, Mr. Orwell.
Hello.
Oh!
Oh, my God!
Oh!
Oh!
You gave us a proper fright.
We thought someone was getting k*lled in here.
All...
clear.
Thank f*ck.
We thought there was m*rder afoot.
I just said that.
When you're ready, mate.
We're in a bit of a hurry.
Warm for the time of year.
It is.
Muggy even.
May I ask, why me?
Why not you?
I'm of no importance.
A supply depot wallah.
Your paymasters are misinformed or incompetent.
Happens.
How much are you being paid?
Who says we're being paid?
Hmph.
Enthusiasts?
I don't think so.
Whatever you're being paid to take me in, I'll pay you more to let me go.
We hear that a lot.
I imagine you're paid well.
Seller's market.
A thousand dollars?
Somewhere in that range?
I'll pay you ten thousand dollars or the sterling equivalent to let me go.
You name your price.
Why would the Union pay so much for a supply depot wallah?
No, they wouldn't.
My duties for the Union require I have personal access to large amounts of cash.
Hmph.
You'll steal from the Union?
I have claustrophobia.
I can't be a prisoner.
We haven't been formally introduced.
You know my name.
I do.
I confess I know yours too...
Mr. Pennyworth.
I recognize you from the newspapers.
Your father is a hero of mine.
Hero of mine too.
Hmm.
You must have very complicated feelings about him.
Checkpoint.
Hey-- Hey!
What sort of man was your father?
Misguided.
Hmm.
We can let time be the judge of that, eh?
I imagine he was a man of principle.
A man of discipline.
What's it matter to you what sort of man he was?
What's it matter to anyone?
Forgive me.
I don't mean to pry.
I like to know what makes people tick.
People don't tick.
Of course, they do.
You, for instance, tick like a taxi meter.
Money drives your wheels.
Tick, tick, tick.
Not at all.
Just the means to an end, Chief.
Means to an end.
What end is that?
None of your business really, is it?
Ah, no real plans then.
Vague dreams.
Well, that's where you're wrong, mate.
He's all yours.
Goodbye, young man.
Perhaps we'll meet again.
I doubt it.
Was he any trouble?
Quiet as a lamb.
Bit of a nosey parker, mind you, but otherwise, a proper gentleman.
Good.
Good.
Thank you, Alfie.
You've hit a six with this chap.
Always happy to help with a noble cause.
All right, man.
Cheers, pal.
I'm not expecting anyone.
All right.
Ready?
Thomas!
I'm sorry to show up unannounced.
Your...
Your phone seems to be out of service.
Ah, come in.
Boots, Darren, this is Thomas.
He's an old friend.
Thomas.
BOOTS: Hi, Thomas.
Guys, go get a pint, huh?
See you later.
Who are those characters?
Oh, they're my unit.
I'm a lieutenant in the League army.
Well, mostly it's just manning the siege barricades and the occasional recon mission.
Fact-finding kind of stuff.
Holy smokes, Martha.
You're a lieutenant?
You have a unit.
It's been a while, huh?
Where were we?
That is hard to forget.
You all better?
Good as new.
I'll tell you, the last year has given me a whole new respect for doctors.
It's the only clean profession.
But, um...
how the heck are you?
I'm good.
Oh, well, you seem...
You seem happy.
Glowing almost.
I guess I am happy.
This life is very simple.
I like simplicity.
Well, I'm happy that you're happy, Martha.
I don't like to be a Grinch but you're preparing to make a last desperate stand for a lost cause.
How many people get to do that?
We're going to win, Thomas.
They won't take London.
How so?
They'll be coming in with tanks and howitzers.
You have rusty br*wnings.
London and the League are doomed.
Still working for the CIA, huh?
CIA?
No.
No.
I'm a Cultural Affairs Attache.
When will you people do the right thing and step in to stop those fascist bastards?
Ahem.
It's not gonna happen, I'm afraid.
Then what are you gonna do?
Don't say you.
It's not me.
I'm not the United States Government.
We-- They...
They are staying neutral.
It's not what I would do, but I'm not in charge.
Oh.
"I was only obeying orders!" Oh, come on.
That's not fair.
So if America's neutral, then what have you come back for?
To sit and watch?
Yeah.
Pretty much.
I'm here as an observer.
That's--that's all.
I'm sorry.
I'm being a hard-ass.
I'll stop.
It's good to see you, Thomas.
It's good to see you too.
I don't--I don't know why, but, um...
I do believe that...
I actually missed you.
Well, have I missed you too, Martha.
And I hope that we can always be friends.
I hope so too.
That is to say, the big news is, I'm engaged to be married.
No kidding.
Wow.
Well, congratulations.
Why would we not be friends?
Well, absolutely.
That's what I was hoping.
There is no reason.
Who's the lucky gal?
Betsy Van Wyck.
I can see her now.
Well, she is a fine young woman.
Mm-hmm.
And it was the right thing to do.
Things just happened before I was aware somehow.
Oh, you poor sap.
Look, I-- I know you deserve more of an explanation than that, but, frankly, I don't have one.
Why do I deserve an explanation?
I've forgotten all the constant questions.
We had a relationship, damn it.
We made out.
I had your cock in my hand for maybe five seconds, and then you got sh*t.
That's not a relationship.
Oh, well...
That's a funny story.
Well, names changed to protect the innocent, I hope.
Hell no.
So what's up?
Up?
Well, you're a CIA spy and you didn't come here to get laid.
What do you wanna know?
What do you think you could possibly tell me?
There is a steamroller coming and you're standing in the middle of the road with your damn eyes shut.
What else do I need to know?
Where the door is.
Martha, I'm your friend.
I'm worried about you.
Well, as you can see, I'm perfectly happy.
I know where the door is.
If you need anything that I can help you with, I am always here for you...
as a friend.
You be well, Thomas.
We can sit here till next week.
I've nowt else to do.
All your friends have given us names.
They're not my friends.
Lone wolf, eh?
Heh.
Do you smoke?
There's Woodbines in the larder if you want one.
I don't smoke.
There if you want one.
What kind of art do you do?
Pictures.
Of what?
You wouldn't understand.
Ride your high horse if you like.
There's been hundreds of proud little misses just like you come through here.
Grist to the mill.
Now for the last time, give us some names.
I won't.
Do as you like.
If I could do as I liked, I'd be an air hostess.
You're seeing the world and you're helping people at the same time.
But no such luck.
I'm here, doing my job.
Do you see that?
I see that you're an unhappy woman.
And I forgive you.
Not your place to forgive me, Pet.
Alfie, a word.
Have a seat.
Heard about what happened.
Shocking.
You all right?
A little deaf.
Any news on Salt?
He was seen back at Union HQ this morning.
Hard at work, full of beans.
Who done it do you think?
Well, that would be my question to you.
As of now, I couldn't venture a guess, Mr. Aziz.
There's a hundred firms might have done it.
I'll put the feelers out, obviously.
This sort of malarkey hurts my business too.
Whoever they are, they knew when and where we were meeting.
You got a loose talker in your ranks.
Large teams like yours, bound to happen.
Who though?
Who among all those I trust is capable of such a betrayal, hmm?
I find myself taking it personally.
And I despise people who take things personally.
We was here.
Ask anyone.
I will.
And I don't like your high-handed manner, Mr. Aziz.
Who's capable of such a betrayal?
You mate, for one.
You've done me wicked on several occasions.
How many poor bastards have you turned over in your time?
Untold.
Do I lie?
No.
Well then.
And if you're fool enough to move a high value asset with one car and two dim plods, that's what you get.
Turned over.
You're right.
Fault's mine, and I'm seeking someone to blame.
I apologize for the accusation.
Think nothing of it.
I'm just extremely disappointed.
Salt was a big fish.
Close to the leadership.
That's not what you told me.
No.
Your prices are quite high enough as it is.
Did he say anything interesting?
Like what?
I don't know.
Perhaps he mentioned something called Stormcloud?
Stormcloud?
No.
What's Stormcloud?
Probably nothing.
Just rumors.
So, this is the silly girl that won't talk to us, eh?
Yes, sir.
I like to sit down with our problem cases for a last interview before they enter the system.
Sometimes a calm fatherly chat can change minds.
I sense that may be possible with you, young lady.
What do you say?
f*ck off.
Plucky!
Jolly good.
I admire pluck.
Perhaps a quiet chat isn't the thing.
Take your clothes off.
No.
Do as you're told.
What's wrong with you?
Why are you doing this?
Aren't you ashamed?
Sykes, what does the code of conduct stipulate?
Section 22B expressly allows nudity during coercive interviews.
Nothing wrong with us.
It's you that's wrong.
Put the kettle on, would you, Bet?
Tell you what, sir...
Why don't you put the f*cking kettle on?!
My God!
No!
Stop!
Please stop!
He's dead!
Doctor, are you?
"Put the kettle on, Bet," he says.
I'm the f*cking tea lady, am I?
I don't think so.
That's Captain Sykes to you.
Oh, Captain Sykes, where you taking her?
Hard case.
Gaffer wants her in the annex.
Is he still in the interview suite?
I've got invoices here for him to sign.
He's having a snooze.
Long interview.
I'll leave him be then.
BET: Best.
All right then, you two, there'll be a scone waiting for me when I get back or I'll know the reason why.
Not one of them sh*t scones, mind.
One with currants.
Cheeky.
Best find a bus stop then, eh?
What the f*ck is happening?
Never you mind.
They look amazing!
Hello, Sandra.
Nearly said a penny for your thoughts.
I know you hate it when I say that.
I was thinking how smashing you look.
Is that a new dress?
Do you like it?
Mm-hmm.
Dad says it's what pop singers are wearing these days.
I think I look like a tart.
No, love, you don't.
You couldn't look like a tart if you tried.
Give us a song, would you?
You're sending me away so you can talk business with that man coming over here, aren't you?
I am.
Hate it when you do that.
Go on.
Gully.
Alfie.
Please.
Thank you.
High life, huh?
I'm proud of you, son.
Ah, it's all rented.
Here.
Lost comrades.
We should be with them.
We will be.
But not quite yet.
Mmm.
Here you go.
Nice one.
Any trouble?
No.
No.
Salt paid up fair and square.
No haggling.
Odd bird.
Was he?
I didn't really get much of a chance to speak with him.
Turns out he's top brass.
Oh?
Close to the Union leadership.
We could have asked for twice what we got.
Well, I'll be damned, huh?
Didn't look like top brass, did he?
Catering Corps type.
Good luck to him.
Alfie, you and I should work together again.
Nah.
That was a one-off, Gully.
I got enough cash now to get the f*ck out of here.
Oh.
Jumping from the sinking ship, eh?
Aren't you?
Oh, heavens no.
You know me.
I love a crisis.
Shame you're going, huh?
It's good to work with men that you can trust.
I mean, really trust.
Yeah, it is.
Eleven seconds.
Good job.
But look at his face.
Unsightly.
Consider the visual impact.
If the Stormcloud Project is put into action, it must seem efficient and humane.
Casualties must look as if they d*ed peacefully.
Follow me.