Prior:
See, the bright light... it ain't heaven, son. It's just a muzzle flare.
Prior:
I fuckin' love culture!
DC:
So, fuck your Nobel Prize! I'm pulling the plug right now. Start packing.
McKay:
[
as Jordan prays over Tak's corpse] What, you really believe that shite? Like there's, you know, after?
Jordan:
I know a man's soul deserves to rest in peace.
Cotter:
We gave up that right when we started killing men who believed in things for *money*.
Prior:
Someone want to tell me what the fuck he's talking about?
McKay:
He thinks we're being stalked by dead Nazis.
Jordan:
Ghosts?
McKay:
I didn't get shot by some fucking spectral entity, here. These things are solid.
Hunt:
But the one that killed Cotter vanished right in front of us.
McKay:
So why don't they swoop down here like God's own wrath and take us out right here and now, then, eh?
Hunt:
I don't know. Maybe God's not in on this miracle.
DC:
You said that that machine of yours was made to control them?
Hunt:
Not control, contain. But they obviously got the maths wrong.
McKay:
You know, for a smart man, you don't say much of anything useful, do you?
Hunt:
Now, the last time you found yourself dealing with the undead, what did *you* do?
Hunt:
By early 1945, the party was over. The war was essentially lost and the German military machine was falling apart. All the files show that the SS sent in a unit to shut this place down. And as far as I can see, nobody walked out alive.
McKay:
So does your instruction manual say what the fuck these things want?
Hunt:
Want? They don't want anything. They just do what they were trained to do. They kill.
Prior:
[
Prior shoots the Breather in the head] Well, that worked.
Jordan:
So we can kill them, right?
Prior:
His brains are all over the wall. That's good enough for me.
McKay:
[
the Breather sits up and looks at them] Oh, you're hummin' my balls!
Hunt:
You're no different to them out there. Men who once had a purpose and now have nothing but death.
DC:
Except *we're* not dead.
Hunt:
Give it up. They're gonna tear us to pieces here. All of us.
DC:
They can try.
DC:
Never did care much for the great outdoors.
Prior:
Yeah, ain't like we were gonna do *good* things for the rest of our lives. Fuck, we killed most everybody else. I figure it's about time we touched gloves with some Nazis, huh?
Prior:
[
to Breather] You see this, this 's a Nine-mil hollowtip. This here 'll push your lungs clean through your spine, make an exit wound big enough to jump through. Now, you're gonna talk, and you're gonna talk to me...
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