Con Air

- I think you should just stop.
- Stay back, man.

- Stay back!
-Just stop, right?
Before somebody gets killed.

- Back!
- All right, cowboy, I'm back.

- Stay back.
- You know you're in a situation
you can't control, right?

I can't control it?
I can't control it?

- You're a dead man.
- Shut the fuck up!

What's your name,

- My name?
- Yeah.

- Poe.
- Nice work, Poe. Truly nice work.

Nice goin', son.
Not only did you not save
this dude's life...

you done made best friends
with Cyrus the damn Virus.

Hey, Cyrus, l, uh, I got some good news
and I got some bad news.

- Yeah, what's the good news?
- Well, the goods news is I found
Benson, Carls and Popovitch.

- What's the bad news?
- The bad news is...

this dead fellow right here
happens to be Benson.

This Aryan fellow with the bullet hole
in his forehead is, is Carls...

and, and this honky
he's draggin' in is Popovitch.

I don't know how to tell
you this, Cyrus, but we are
three white guys short.

Or as they say in ebonics,
"We be fucked."

Look man,
I just wanna know.

All right, you didn't-- You
didn't mean that dirty-nigger
crackhead shit, did you?

Gimme that gun.
Hell, yes, I meant it.
Listen, Carson City is expecting
six men to get off this plane...

and we're gonna give 'em
exactly what they expect.

- So I need three volunteers.
- Come on. Let's go, son.

- Don't look at me, pal.
- What about her?

I'm servin' eight consecutive
life sentences. I am not
getting off this plane.