It’s quite a crib Vandal’s got. All that’s missing is a sign
that says, “Bad guy lives here.” -(MUFFLED GUNSHOTS)
-(GRUNTING) – Come on.
-(BULLET SHELLS CLATTER) (GRUNTS) How’s that? Mighty beauty, I’d say. DEADSHOT: Let’s not give each other
hand jobs just yet. You see a way to get inside? I think we’re being summoned. Poor PiQQY- Looks like he went to market. If this is a warning,
I’d say it’s working. VANDAL SAVAGE: I presume
my grieving daughter sent you. Children. I must’ve sired 100,000. You’d think one would
show me some respect. If you wanna live another
century or two, hand over the card. (GRUNTS) That would be impossible. Mate, he’s gotta have it.
Doesn’t work unless you have it on you. Not on me… In me. Professor Pyg. I don’t get it. He had Pyg implant the card in him. In such a position that
to remove it would kill me. Why do you even need it?
You’re supposed to live for-bloody-ever. I’m immortal, not invulnerable. I’ve had more brushes with death
in the last 10 years than all the centuries preceding thanks to the emergence of metahumans. I’m afraid no one lives forever. (ALL GROANING) VAN DAL SAVAGE:
It’s a neurosynaptic discharge. Blocks sensory
motor functions pretty quickly. That is, if you can still hear me. (STRAINING) (GROANING) That’s a hell of an entrance. Frosty, you got the wrong side. We’re the good bad guys– God, I’ve been wanting
to do that for a week now. (GROANING) ZOOM: Such a quick healer. You and I have that in common. Our little favor, Miss Frost? WALLER: Lawton. We should be there
at 0200 hours. You have it yet? Getting there. (GROANING) They’re bloody freezing him. Not quite. Just bringing down his body temperature to the point where we can work with him.