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Happy birthday, dear Janice
Happy birthday to you!
It's my anorexic boss' birthday.
This means there's a certain amount of inter-office pressure
to stand around the conference table
eating crappy food and pretending to worship her.
That's so good.
Acting for five minutes like Janice doesn't make all our lives miserable
is the hardest work I'll do all day.
My job title is account manager.
I used to be called an account service representative,
but a consultant told us we needed to manage our clients
and not service them.
I have a girlfriend whom I neither manage nor service.
That's my best friend, Barry, fucking her on an IKEA kitchen table
I picked up for a really good price.
I'm finding it hard to care about anything these days.
In fact, the only thing I do care about is the fact that I can't care about anything.
Seriously. It worries me.
My name is Wesley Gibson.
My dad walked out on my mom when I was seven days old.
Sometimes I wonder if he ever looked into my baby blues eyes and asked himself,
"Did I just father the most insignificant asshole of the 21st century?"
Well, if you could get me the consignment to me by the 28th... Yeah.
Do you have the numbers in front of you?
Relax.
If your name had come up, you'd be dead already.
We've had some unexpected losses recently.
We'd like to know
where our competitor is getting his munition.
It's clean.
Meaning?
Meaning it's untraceable.
Your competitor's very smart.
Get down!
Fuck it.
No one leaves the Fraternity, Cross.
I have a new perspective on the Fraternity.
Careful.
You don't destroy something that's been around for a thousand years.
It's already destroyed. He broke the code.
I have to stop this.
- Really? - You know this.
So why don't you face me yourself?
Never send sheep to kill a wolf.
They were just the decoys.
Goodbye, Mr X.
Never send sheep to kill a wolf.
They were just the decoys.
Wesley!
What is it?
What do you mean, "What is it"? Listen.
Well, how am I suppose to sleep with all that fucking racket?
When are we gonna move so we don't have to wake up to that shit?
I kind of like it.
It helps to drown out the sound of your annoying, fucking voice.
Now, please, let me sleep.
Have you even thought about our talk?
Yes.
Which one?
Perfect. That's perfect.
Feed Annabelle.
Sorry.
Oh, my fucking God.
I hope that's not my billing report sitting on your desk.
Holy shit on an altar, it is.
I want that report on my desk in one hour.
Okay, everybody, we're all gonna stay an extra hour...
Want to hear something sad?
I need an ergonomic keyboard to keep my repetitive stress injury in check.
Just the fact that I repeat something enough that it causes me stress is fucking sad.
Nice job, dude. You seen Barry?
He had to go to the dentist. Again.
Yes!
Barry!
You think they have that morning-after pill here?
That thing works. Crush it up, put it in her omelette,
"Hey, baby, breakfast in bed." You can never be too safe.
Oh, God.
I lost my wallet somewhere.
All this together?
- No, no. - Yes.
He is the man.
- How much is it? - Oh. Plus this.
$20.42.
Watermelon.
Chicks dig it.
Thanks.
See you next time.
Have a good night.
I love these energy drinks, man.
I'm almost, like, kind of on an energy drink cleanse,
where I do one for breakfast and then, like, two or three for lunch.
I'm the man?
Yeah, right, Barry, I'm the man.
In fact, I'm so much the man,
I have a standing prescription for medication to control my anxiety attacks.
God, I wish I had something else to relieve my stress.
Hello, Wesley.
You know, there are people, beautiful people,
you just wish they could see you in a different setting, a different place,
instead of where you are, what you've become.
Nicole is so hot.
What?
Boom goes the dynamite.
But most of all, you wish you weren't such a pussy
for wishing for things that will never change.
Good God A'mighty, you're over here like it's spring fucking break,
and I still don't have that billing report.
Why do I even keep you around, Wesley?
I'll get it done, Janice.
Like I never heard that before. "I'll get it done."
"I'll get it done. I'll get it done, Janice.
"I'll get it done."
Why don't you have anything to say for yourself?
I'm sorry.
Well, you're worthless.
I'm the one who's sorry I hired your ass.
You know what the best thing is about the end of the day?
Tomorrow it starts all over again.
- Hi. How you doing? - Good.
- I'm sorry? - You apologise too much.
Sorry about that.
I knew your father.
My father left the week I was born, so...
Your father died yesterday on the rooftop of the Metropolitan Building.
Sorry.
Look, the liquor rounds are just over there, so...
Your father was one of the greatest assassins who ever lived.
The man who killed him is behind you.
This guy's just shooting up...
Sorry. Sorry.
What... Oh, my God! Oh, my God! What the fuck just happened?
Please! Please! Please drive faster.
- Please be quiet. - Please drive... Please drive faster.
Please... Please understand that I care about my life!
I don't know what the fuck you did to piss this guy off,
but you're gonna have to let me out and call the cops!
Hey! Hey!
What are you doing? Oh, shit! Are you crazy?
Oh, shit!
I think we lost him. I think we lost him.
Could you let me out at the next corner, please?
Shit!
Fuck!
Oh, shit!
He's right there!
Look, I'm an accountant. I'm just an accountant.
Oh, fuck!
He's fucking persistent, you know.
Fuck!
You kick his ass!
Shoot him!
What are you doing? What are you shooting our car for, huh?
- Are you crazy? - Grab the wheel.
Where are you going?
Get back in here!
Oh, my God!
Oh, damn! I'm sorry.
- Gun! - What?
Under the seat!
Here.
Oh, shit!
Shit!
- Look out! - Get out!
Look out! Oh, my God!
Shit!
I'm sorry!
Behind you!
Fuck.
Shit. Shit.
Hello.
I don't have any money or...
I thought he'd be
taller.
Taller?
Sir...
Sir, I've been trying to explain to the lady here that I'm an accountant.
I'm an account service representative... I'm an account manager.
And I'm sure that if you call my boss, Janice,
she'd fill you in on whatever has gone wrong.
You can contact her by email or... She'll put you straight.
Shoot the wings off the flies.
I don't know what that means.
Shoot the wings off the flies.
I really think you have me mixed up with somebody else.
On three.
Either you shoot, or I do.
One.
Okay.
Two.
I can't even see them!
Three.
Okay. Okay.
That's impossible.
A lot of things for you weren't possible before today.
What you experienced, Wesley, was not a panic attack.
Your heart was beating in excess of 400 beats per minute,
sending abundant amounts of adrenaline into your bloodstream.
This allows you to see and react faster than normal.
Only a few people in the world can do that.
Your father could do it and you can do it.
With a little work, you can learn to control these attacks.
Stay away from me.
Just stay back from me.
I have a gun, sir. All right?
My name is Sloan.
This is Fox.
And the others you see around you are all very good at killing.
So, if I were you, I'd keep the gun pointed at me.
You don't wanna point it at any of them.
That's better.
- You're insane. - No.
Insanity is wasting your life as a nothing
when you have the blood of a killer flowing in your veins.
Insanity is being shit on, beat down,
coasting through life in a miserable existence
when you have a caged lion locked inside and a key to release it.
This gun you're holding is an Imanishi 17. It belonged to your father.
He could conduct a symphony orchestra with it.
And you're going to use it to kill the man who shot him down in cold blood.
- I can't... - The same man who tried to kill you tonight.
Your father was one of us.
A fraternity of assassins. The weapons of fate.
We've transferred all of his assets over to you.
And let me assure you, they are substantial.
It is your long-awaited destiny
to join us.
Back off. Back off.
You don't know anything about me.
Stay away from me. Stay away from me.
You stay away from me?
You stay away from me, please? Will you let me through?
You know when you have a dream and you're half awake,
but it's still in the fringe of your brain?
Then you open your eyes and you're so damn glad it was a dream.
This was nothing like that.
I'm sorry. Could you just give me one second? Thank you.
Oh, shit.
Wesley.
What's up with you?
What do you mean?
You're... You're here early.
Is... You seem a little pepped up.
- You all right? - Well, yeah.
Yeah.
I guess I feel
kind of different.
Whatever. I'm gonna go get some Post-it Notes. Do you want one?
- No. - Really?
- Yeah. - Okay.
Jesus H. fucking Popsicle, I still don't have my billing reports,
but you've got time to sit here and Google your ass off.
Well, I know one thing.
You've got your review coming up next week,
and I can't wait to start checking me off some big fucking boxes.
Attitude, poor! Performance, poor!
Management skills, poor!
Works well with others. That's a fucking joke.
What is this bullshit? Who's this prick?
Some loser gets his head blown off at the Metropolitan...
Shut the fuck up!
She has one single iota of tenuous power.
She thinks she can push everyone around.
You don't need this.
I understand.
Junior high must have been kind of tough,
but it doesn't give you the right to treat your workers like horseshit, Janice.
I know we laugh at you, Janice.
We all know you keep your stash of jelly doughnuts in the top drawer of your desk.
But I want you to know
if you weren't such a bitch, we'd feel sorry for you.
I do feel sorry for you.
But as it stands, the way you behave,
I feel I can speak for the entire office
when I tell you
go fuck yourself.
Yeah. That was great, bro. Who's the man?
I'm the man.
That's a bad idea.
Couldn't find your keys, huh?
That could be handy. You going to teach me that?
I might need that.
So, Fox, right? What is that? Is that a call sign?
Is it like Maverick in Top Gun?
You could tell me, but you'd have to kill me?
I'm just kidding.
Peter!
Check the shuttle rotation on this STB. It should be 300 per minute.
This kind of cotton weave, the opposing thread count should be 4,000.
Hey, this is pretty awesome, huh?
Is it a front?
- Front for what? - I don't know.
Assassinations.
You may think this is a front for something,
all I can tell you is this is a textile mill.
And George... George, go help Peter up there.
Yeah.
This is a textile mill.
And a damn good one.
Yeah, that's cute, but that's bullshit, right?
I mean, all these guys are killers, aren't they?
I think you owe me some answers.
All right. Clearly I don't understand,
but do you make sweaters or do you kill people?
That's an awful lot of questions over coffee.
Are you sure you're ready for the answers?
Yes, I'm sure.
I can't go back.
Not to my life.
He's all yours.
All right. We're up.
How you doing?
I'm The Repairman.
What do you repair?
A lifetime of bad habits.
- Okay. - Would you do me a favour?
Just put your arms behind your back.
- It's okay. - I don't know...
- Just behind your back. - Is this okay?
Just relax.
Is this part of it?
There we go.
- You going to put a bag over my head? - No. There's no need for a bag.
- That's not too tight, is it? - No, that's nice.
Why did you come here, Wesley?
Well, you brought me here, remember?
What the fuck did you do that...
How many punches did The Repairman throw
before he was counting sheep?
Well, I haven't spent a lot of time having my face smashed in before, all right?
- Did you spend a lot of time with knives? - At breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Fuck.
It was a rhetorical question, culo.
You interrupt me again, I use the business end.
Here's what you need to know, puto.
Knives are easy to hide.
They don't jam and they never run out of bullets.
They come in handy
when you have to do some close contact work.
What the fuck, man?
- Come here. Come here. - What?
Now, try to cut me. - What?
Try to cut me. Hey!
- Just stick me with that... - Be careful with that. That's sharp.
- Just stick and stick and stick. - Why?
- Seriously, man, I could hurt you. - Hey!
Okay, pussy.
- I'm not a pussy. - You're a pussy.
- No, I'm not a pussy. - You're a pussy!
I'm not a pussy. I got a healthy respect for the human condition.
- Fuck that, you pussy! - I'm not a pussy!
- You're a pussy! - I'm not a pussy!
- Come on, pussy. - I'm not a pussy!
Hi. How you doing?
What the fuck?
The fuck!
Just a moment. Just a moment.
Sorry.
Hello? Hey!
Hey, come back! Hey!
You must drink. Drink. Yeah.
- What is this? - This is the recovery room.
This bath stimulates white blood cells and speed up the process.
In here, bruises, cuts, breaks heal in hours, not days.
You shitting me?
- What is that? Vodka? - Yeah.
- Are you Russian? - Yeah.
Get up.
This is The Gunsmith.
He knows more about a piece than anybody, and he's gonna teach you how to use one.
- How you doing? - Pretty good.
- You know that Seltzer broke his leg? - Oh, really?
Yeah, in three places.
How'd he do that? - Jumped off a building.
So, is he okay? - Yeah. It's pretty bad, though.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God, you guys, that is so realistic.
He's been in recovery for, like, three days now,
and they say they're not even gonna let him out.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God!
Hey, we can't shoot a dead woman! She might be somebody's mom...
You need to know what it's like to put a bullet in a body.
Why are you here?
You know, I thought I was learning to be some kind of super assassin.
You know, if I wanted to get beat up,
I would have stayed in my cubicle, you know.
Fuck.
All right, shoot the target.
From there.
- You want me shoot through Wilbur? - I want you to curve the bullet.
How am I suppose to do that?
It's not a question of how,
it's a question of what.
If no one told you that bullets flew straight
and I gave you a gun and told you to hit the target,
what would you do?
Let your instincts guide you.
How the hell did he do that?
Can you do that? Can you do that? Hello?
Hey, I think that's my old train.
Still is.
Shit! You fucking asshole!
Come on!
Let's go.
Are you out of your fucking mind?
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
Oh, God, I feel... I feel... I feel...
I feel kind of good.
He got Rictus. Perfect shot. Impossible angle.
Cross is taking us out one by one.
And Wesley is the only one who can get to him.
Cross gets closer with each hour.
Get back to work.
See that?
- It's a shuttle. - Okay.
I want you to try and catch it.
You want me to stick my hand in there?
Yes. I want you to catch it.
You wanna put a gun to my head?
I can just slow things down like with the flies.
You need to learn to control that by yourself.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
This is bullshit! Fuck this!
How's it going today, Wesley?
No. Fuck the loom and fuck The Repairman!
I can shoot the wings off the back of a fly! I'm ready!
You're ready when Fox says you're ready.
- Who put her in charge? - I did.
Wesley.
People think you use cheese to catch these beauties.
But they go apeshit for peanut butter.
Your father was a big fan of this. Watch.
Plastic explosive and peanut butter!
Sorry, Mickey.
Five, four, three, two, one.
Hey. Hey, Russian.
Good for one. Yeah.
Imagine if you had a thousand.
They really fucked you up, didn't they?
What the hell did they do to you?
Throw you in front of a moving train for no reason?
Beat the shit out of you?
You know, you can say it, this place is bullshit. It's bullshit, huh?
Bullshit!
Repairman. Five minutes.
Heads up out of the question?
Fuck.
You're a waste of my fucking time! Why are you here?
I don't know, so hit me.
- Why are you here? - I had a shit life, so why wouldn't I?
I wanna kick your fucking ass!
Tell me what you want me to say.
- Why are you here? - I don't know!
Why are you here?
- Why are you here? - I don't know why I'm here.
Why are you here?
I don't know who I am.
- What did you say? - I said...
I said I don't know who I am.
Do you really want to know who you are?
Yeah. It's my room.
No.
This was your father's room.
What happened?
A member of this fraternity went rogue.
Cross.
He started by killing the one man who was better than him.
Your father.
Blindsided him on a rooftop.
Betrayed him.
Everything in this room,
books, weapons, clothes,
belonged to him.
Now they belong to you.
Find a connection in this room, Wesley.
It may be the only way of finding out who you are.
Now I know why I could never care about anything before this.
I was living a lie.
Finally, I have a chance to step into my father's shoes.
Grow a pair. Live the life I was born to live.
I've been pissing it all away like it was another fucking billing report.
I have to train harder.
I have to be as good as my father.
On these shelves, Wesley, are the records of the Fraternity kills,
everything you will need to kill your target.
To kill Cross,
the man who betrayed the Fraternity and murdered my father, I must prepare.
I have to become his student, memorise every move he ever made,
every attack he ever executed.
When he dropped a patient in an airtight room surrounded by Secret Service agents.
When he took out that businessman in the elevator.
His bullets untraceable, of course.
Or how no matter what the weapon or how he eliminated his target,
he was always one chess move ahead.
One move more prepared.
One step quicker.
One shot more precise.
In fact, in all my research, I found that he never missed a target.
Not until me.
Yeah!
First time in your life, Wesley, you're in control.
Shoot the target.
You're crazy.
Welcome to the Fraternity.
We call this the Loom of Fate.
After today, you will never set foot in here again.
Why not?
Because, like an apostle,
your task is not to interpret, but to deliver.
Every culture in history has a secret code,
one you won't find in traditional texts.
A thousand years ago,
a clan of weavers discovered a mystical language hidden in the fabric.
They called themselves the Fraternity.
I'll be honest with you, all I see are threads.
Come here.
Look there.
Do you see that one thread that missed the weave
and lies on top of the others?
- Like a mistake? - No, it's a code.
If the vertical thread is on top, it's a one.
If it's below, it's a zero.
Binary code?
What does it say?
It's a name.
A target.
Where do the names come from?
Come out of a necessity, Wesley.
A necessity to maintain balance in the world.
They are orders that must be executed,
entrusted to us so that we might forge stability out of chaos.
This one is yours.
I don't...
Look, I thought you brought me here to kill Cross.
You will.
In time.
This is your first assignment.
The loom provides,
I interpret,
you deliver.
You want me to kill Robert Deane Darden?
Not me.
Fate.
The target will be in the conference room, sitting at the head chair.
There are six windows.
You will shoot through the fifth.
Fifth window.
Now.
What did he do that he deserves to die?
You don't know.
I don't know if he was bad, I don't know if he was evil.
I don't know anything about him.
We get our orders from a loom.
Fate.
And we're supposed to take it on faith that what we're doing is right.
Killing someone we know nothing about,
I don't know if I can do that.
About 20 years ago,
there was this girl.
Her dad was a federal judge,
so she probably had it in her mind that she was gonna follow in his footsteps.
So she's home one Christmas,
and her dad's on this big racketeering case.
The defendants want to get a softer judge.
One they can buy off.
So they hire this guy,
Max Petridge,
get him to pay her father a visit.
And the way he pays people a visit
is to break in
and tie up their loved ones,
and force them to watch
while he burns his targets alive.
And then he takes a wire hanger and twists it round
and brands his initials into each one of them so they will never ever forget.
After I was recruited into the Fraternity,
I found out that Max Petridge's name had come up
weeks before the federal judge was killed,
and that a Fraternity member had failed to pull the trigger.
We don't know how far the ripples of our decisions go.
You kill one, and maybe,
save a thousand.
That's the code of the Fraternity.
That's what we believe in, and that's why we do it.
Now!
Cross.
Not yet.
Your target will be in a black limo.
He always travels the same six blocks of Halsted.
You have three blocks to kill him.
Shit.
I'm sorry.
Barry! Could you feed Annabelle?
Barry!
Wesley. Hey, where have you been? I have really missed you, man.
Look at the big man. You fucking asshole! What?
What? You don't show up for weeks,
now you're just gonna stop by and use the bathroom?
You think you're a real big shot now, huh?
No. You know what? You are nothing!
No, you are less than nothing.
You're not even half the man that Barry is.
Barry, he pleases me in ways that you've never even heard of!
Who the hell is she, Wesley? Your new whore?
Is that what it takes now? You're paying for it?
Wesley?
He's the man.
- You all right? - Yeah.
- Yeah. I'm okay. - Go sit down. I'm gonna find a car.
Big night. I got to get into recovery.
Shit.
Fuck!
Bull's-eye.
What's he doing here?
- Come on! - Come on. Just stay with us.
Pull back his jacket.
Breathe. Breathe, all right?
It's all right. It's all right. It's all right.
A thousand.
Come on!
- Come on! - No! No! Stay with us.
- Come on. - Open your eyes!
Come on!
This bullet is the first traceable bullet he's ever used.
It was made by this man. His name is Pekwarsky.
He works out of what is now a monastery in Eastern Moravia.
This place is where the Fraternity was born.
He's taunting me.
He's sending me a message.
I'm gonna send him one back.
He's trapping you.
Leading you to a place he knows very well.
Look, I know this. I...
This is what you trained me for.
You can't go alone.
I go alone or he doesn't show. He's not stupid.
Look, a member of the Fraternity is dead because of me.
Okay.
Go.
Thank you.
I don't think that's a good idea.
Your next assignment.
Pekwarsky?
Shit.
What are you doing here?
Lower your gun.
You recognise this?
I pulled this out of my shoulder.
The guy who put it there killed my father.
Now, I know you made it, so tell me where he is.
I did mould this, but I can't be responsible for the people who use them.
I don't give a shit. Tell me where he is.
Look at my finger.
I can try and arrange a meet.
Have you ever thought about doing things differently?
How do you mean?
I don't know.
Being somebody else.
Somebody normal.
No.
Shit.
Out of the way!
Stay.
Hey!
He's on the train.
He's alone.
Thank you.
Sorry. I'm sorry. Sit down!
Sir, sit down! Nobody's gonna get hurt.
Sir, sit... Sit down! Sir, sit down!
Get out of the way! Sit down! Stay down! Stay down!
Stay down! It's okay! Sit down!
Wesley.
Out of the way! Out of the way!
No, no, no!
Wesley, listen to me.
Shut the fuck up!
You don't get to talk to me.
Everything they told you was a lie.
Shut up, you lying piece of shit. You shut the fuck up.
You are my son.
What did you say?
What did you say to me?
Is it true?
Yes.
Why did you make me do this?
Because you are the only person he wouldn't kill.
You knew, God damn it.
You knew the entire time.
Well, his name came up.
So did yours.
No, it was okay. Never mind.
No. No, it was complete shit.
I promised your father I'd bring you back here.
What the fuck?
He said it was the only way you'd believe.
Your father was never more than a camera click away.
That's me.
He was my father.
And I killed him.
To your father, protecting you was worth giving up his life.
Protect me?
He was trying to fucking kill me!
No. He wasn't trying to kill you.
He was trying to rescue you.
When Cross left the Fraternity,
Sloan hunted you down.
Ever since Fox had her teeth in you, he's been trying to separate you from them.
Your father never wanted you in the Fraternity, Wesley.
He wanted a different path for you,
with things that he could never have.
A home.
- Peace. - No.
He hoped you would find your own way.
Your father got hold of this.
Decipher it yourself.
Sloan began manufacturing targets of his own for profit years ago.
Your father found out about it.
And he was going to do something about it on his own, right?
But Sloan turned everyone against him.
My father's name never even came up, did it?
No. Holding to the code made him a target.
Yes.
- You want me to run? - No.
I want you to live.
You can have a different life, Wesley.
Like your father wanted for you.
We trained him well.
My father was wrong about one thing.
Everything they told me wasn't a lie.
They taught me how to kill, how to feel no pain,
and most importantly, that every job has a perfect weapon.
Well, I'm the perfect weapon.
And I'm supposed to run?
No, I've been doing that my entire life.
So I say no.
I say kill them all and let fate sort out the mess.
Kill him.
He's here!
Pussy.
Pussy, pussy.
Pussy.
Sloan!
My father wasn't a traitor.
This is a kill order.
And it's got Sloan's name on it.
What did you say to me?
It's a name. It's a target.
I don't want this person dead.
Fate does.
Fate wanted you dead.
And he couldn't take it.
So he started manufacturing his own targets for his own gains.
And that's when my dad found out and decided to stand against him.
And that's when you sent a man's son
to kill his father.
You're not an assassin of fate, Sloan.
You're just a thug who can bend bullets.
Is that true?
Here is what the truth is.
Your name came up.
Your name.
Yours.
Everyone in this room.
If I had not done what I did,
you would all be dead.
I saved your lives.
Now look where we are. We are stronger than ever.
Changing the course of history as we see it.
Choosing the targets we select.
We can redistribute power where we see fit.
The wolves rule.
Not the sheep.
Now, if any of you feel the need to follow the code
of the Fraternity to the letter,
I invite you to take your gun,
put it in your mouth and pull the trigger.
That is what Wesley demands.
Otherwise,
shoot this motherfucker
and let us take our Fraternity of Assassins to heights
reserved only for the gods of men.
You choose.
Fuck the code.
Sloan!
Six weeks ago, I was ordinary and pathetic.
Just like you.
But who am I now?
Account manager?
Assassin?
Or just another tool who was mind-fucked into killing his father?
I am all of these.
And I am none of these.
Who am I now?
This is not me fulfilling my destiny.
This is not me following in my father's footsteps.
This is definitely not me saving the world.
Still trying to figure out who you are?
This is not me.
This is just a motherfucking decoy.
Oh, fuck.
This is me taking control.
From Sloan,
from the Fraternity,
from Janice, from billing reports,
from ergonomic keyboards,
from cheating girlfriends and sack-of-shit best friends.
This is me taking back control
of my life.
What the fuck have you done lately?
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