Sean Ambrose: Feel like pleading for your life?
出自電影《職業特工隊2》 的經典對白。
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Sean Ambrose: You know, that was the hardest part about having to portray you, grinning like an idiot every fifteen minutes.
Sean Ambrose: You know women, mate. Like monkeys, they are - won't let go of one branch until they've got hold of the next.
Ethan, Nyah's in the building. Do you copy? Ethan Hunt: Thank you.
Ethan Hunt: We just rolled up a snowball and tossed it into hell. Now lets see what chance it has.
Nyah Nordolf-Hall: You're not gonna shoot me Sean, not this BITCH, cuz she's worth thirty seven, million pounds.
Luther Stickell: The satellite doesn't work as fast as I do.
Sean Ambrose: In just a few hours you can be assured of going down in history as the typhoid Mary of "Aus". G'day.
Sean Ambrose: Feel like pleading for your life?
Sean Ambrose: Go ahead, Hunt. Use it. It's not a bad way to go. A lot better than the way that bitch is going to die.
Sean Ambrose: This is what's known as getting your gun off.
Sean Ambrose: The ball's in your court, Mr. Hunt.
This is not mission difficult, Mr. Hunt, it's mission impossible. "Difficult" should be a walk in the park for you.
Sean Ambrose: You know women, mate. Like monkeys, they are - won't let go of one branch until they've got hold of the next.
Luther Stickell: The satellite doesn't work as fast as I do.
Sean Ambrose: In just a few hours you can be assured of going down in history as the typhoid Mary of "Aus". G'day.
Sean Ambrose: You... BITCH!
Sean Ambrose: The ball's in your court, Mr. Hunt.
Sean Ambrose: Put a sock in it.
Sean Ambrose: This is what's known as getting your gun off.
Sean Ambrose: You know, that was the hardest part about having to portray you, grinning like an idiot every fifteen minutes.
Ethan Hunt: We just rolled up a snowball and tossed it into hell. Now lets see what chance it has.
Luther Stickell: The satellite doesn't work as fast as I do.
Sean Ambrose: Feel like pleading for your life?
Sean Ambrose: Go ahead, Hunt. Use it. It's not a bad way to go. A lot better than the way that bitch is going to die.
Sean Ambrose: The ball's in your court, Mr. Hunt.
Nyah Nordolf-Hall: You're not gonna shoot me Sean, not this BITCH, cuz she's worth thirty seven, million pounds.
Sean Ambrose: This is what's known as getting your gun off.
Mission Commander Swanbeck: Ms. Hall and Ambrose had a relationship which he took very seriously... she walked away and he's been wanting her back ever since. We believe she's our surest and quickest way of locating him. Ethan Hunt: And then what? Mission Commander Swanbeck: Make sure she continues to see him, gets him to confide in her, and report to you. Ethan Hunt: You made it sound as if I was recruiting her for her skills as a thief. Mission Commander Swanbeck: Well then I misled you, or you made the wrong assumption. Either way, we are asking her to resume her prior relationship - not do anything she hasn't already done... voluntarily, I might add. Ethan Hunt: No. She's got no training for this kind of thing. Mission Commander Swanbeck: What? To go to bed with a man and lie to him? She's a woman - she's got all the training she needs.
Ethan Hunt: You turned around. Nyah Nordoff-Hall: What are you going to do? Spank me?
Billy Baird: You OK, mate? Luther Stickell: That punk put a hole in my Versace.
Mission Commander Swanbeck: You were under specific instructions to bring back a living sample of the Chimera virus. I'd be very interested to know how, after you'd managed its recovery intact, it subsequently got destroyed. Ethan Hunt: By fire. That's the best way, really.
Mission Commander Swanbeck: Good morning, Mr. Hunt. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, involves the recovery of a stolen item designated "Chimera." You may select any two team members, but it is essential that the third member of your team be Nyah Nordoff-Hall. She is a civilian, and a highly capable professional thief. You have forty-eight hours to recruit Miss Hall and meet me in Seville to receive your assignment. As always, should any member of your team be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow all knowledge of your actions. And Mr. Hunt, the next time you go on holiday, please be good enough to let us know where you're going. This message will self-destruct in five seconds. Ethan Hunt: I let you know where I'm going, I won't be on holiday.
John C. McCloy: What is this? Dr. Nekhorvich: A visit from an old friend. John C. McCloy: You crashed on the plane. You're dead. Dr. Nekhorvich: Dead, certainly. But dead is a little extreme. On the other hand, when my colleague Gradski had your pulse and your blood pressure, he had less than a day to live. Dr. Nekhorvich: You're infected with Chimera, my friend. Dr. Nekhorvich: No use, my friend. The medical staff wants no part of this. Doctors don't fancy the idea of dying any more than anybody else. John C. McCloy: How could I possibly be infected? Dr. Nekhorvich: That's exactly what Gradski said 27 hours before he died. John C. McCloy: You've got the antidote, you miserable bastard! You stole Bellerophon, all of it! Dr. Nekhorvich: My, my, my. John C. McCloy: I need it! I need it *now*, you whacked-out Russian gypsy! Dr. Nekhorvich: And what about Gradski, who you deliberately infected with Chimera? John C. McCloy: How was I to know they needed to be treated with Bellerophon within 20 hours? Dr. Nekhorvich: By asking me. John C. McCloy: You still don't get it, do you? I needed to know just how bad the disease was in the real world, not just the lab. You were genetically splicing together strains of influenza to create a cure for all influenzas, but you were also creating a disease so terrible in Chimera, the cure would be priceless! I needed Chimera in order to peddle Bellerophon; it's not that difficult to understand, is it? Look, I've got the virus, you've got the cure. I need them both. Time was, a shot of penicillin would knock off every bloody bug in the zoo. Not anymore. If I couldn't make money killing the microscopic little shits that are out there, well, you'd help me put one out there that I could make money on. Well, there it is. I've confessed. I, John C. McCloy, am in business to make money. Now forget any deal you may have made with that thug Ambrose, get me treated and let's go back to work! Dr. Nekhorvich: You know, I think it's a little late for that. Do give my regards to Gradski, if you see him.
Hugh Stamp: Why do you think she's really here? Sean Ambrose: From her point of view or mine? Hugh Stamp: Well, she wasn't exactly gagging for it when she left you six months ago.
John C. McCloy: What is this? Dr. Nekhorvich: A visit from an old friend. John C. McCloy: You crashed on the plane. You're dead. Dr. Nekhorvich: Tired, certainly. But dead is a little extreme. On the other hand, when my colleague Gradski had your pulse and your blood pressure, he had less than a day to live. Dr. Nekhorvich: You're infected with Chimera, my friend. Dr. Nekhorvich: No use, my friend. The medical staff wants no part of this. Doctors don't fancy the idea of dying any more than anybody else. John C. McCloy: How could I possibly be infected? Dr. Nekhorvich: That's exactly what Gradski said 27 hours before he died. John C. McCloy: You've got the antidote, you miserable bastard! You stole Bellerophon, all of it! Dr. Nekhorvich: My, my, my. John C. McCloy: I need it! I need it *now*, you whacked-out Russian gypsy! Dr. Nekhorvich: And what about Gradski, who you deliberately infected with Chimera? John C. McCloy: How was I to know they needed to be treated with Bellerophon within 20 hours? Dr. Nekhorvich: By asking me. John C. McCloy: You still don't get it, do you? I needed to know just how bad the disease was in the real world, not just the lab. You were genetically splicing together strains of influenza to create a cure for all influenzas, but you were also creating a disease so terrible in Chimera, the cure would be priceless! I needed Chimera in order to peddle Bellerophon; it's not that difficult to understand, is it? Look, I've got the virus, you've got the cure. I need them both. Time was, a shot of penicillin would knock off every bloody bug in the zoo. Not anymore. If I couldn't make money killing the microscopic little shits that are out there, well, you'd help me put one out there that I could make money on. Well, there it is. I've confessed. I, John C. McCloy, am in business to make money. Now forget any deal you may have made with that thug Ambrose, get me treated and let's go back to work! Dr. Nekhorvich: You know, I think it's a little late for that. Do give my regards to Gradski, if you see him.
