Blood Drive

The executives assigned to this show

decided to test it in Jersey.

As a result, they think you mouthbreathers

are too stupid to understand my masterpiece.

So listen up, dum-dums, and let me set the stage.

The world is broken, no one has any food,

oil costs 2,000 a barrel, and the only way out

of this shitty life is a secret road race

with a $10 million cash prize.

But there's a twist: all the cars run on human blood.

Welcome to "Blood Drive."

_

Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm.

- Nice ride. - You should see the engine.

You want me to take a look? I am pretty handy.

Mm, I bet.

Come on.

You want to look under my hood, you got to buy me dinner first.

Maybe another time.

Hey.

Where are you going?

I, um... I'm late.

Got to make it to LA by sundown.

- Maybe next time, dude. - Let's go get her.

Why'd you stop?

I was having so much fun.

Out of gas.

Well, that's too bad. I'm not.

Why don't you hop in, and, uh, I'll give you a ride to town.

- Yeah, no, thanks. - Hey, man, let's not do this.

I wasted 500 bucks worth of gas

chasing you through the desert, so don't be a bitch.

No one asked you to race, okay?

Barry, she's right.

- Please don't. - Dude, come on.

- Back off, Todd. - Please, please, don't. Please.

- Come on, man. - Back up.

Stop. Please. Please don't. Please.

Now, you just hold still, and this won't hurt a bit.

Funny, I was just about to say that.

All right, hurry up, Barry.

Fuck!

What the fuck are you doing?

Please... please don't hurt me.

Sorry, pal. Got to top off.

No!

_

Insert water container.

Unauthorized water ration.

Contra!

Reviewing footage.

Crimes... consumption of stolen water,

resisting arrest.

Punishment authorized, level three.

Aggravated assault, littering,

possession of the drug Red Rapture,

theft.

Whoo. Thirsty, motherfucker?

- Reviewing footage. - Shut up.

They're gonna dock you for that.

Stole half a gallon. That's a level eight.

If we don't ration the water, a lot more people die.

He's not worth saving, trust me.

Come on, man. I don't want to die.

Jesus, they're shooting Red now.

You can't shoot the stuff. Doesn't work that way.

Sir, what are those marks on your arm?

Arthur, he's a junkie. Those are track marks.

Heroin hasn't been around for years.

- Then he's selling plasma. - To who?

Hospitals don't have a lot of use for junkie blood.

I didn't do nothing, all right? I just wanted water.

Tell us what those marks are.

Come on, man. They'll kill me if I tell you.

Look, I can help you, but you got to talk to me.

I don't know who they are, all right?

They're not normal.

Put it in non-junkie terms for us.

No one knows who they are.

They bleed the rainbow.

He's too fried to makes sense. This is pointless.

Try something else.

What the fuck are you doing?

Shit! Freeze!

It's a warehouse on Perrino Street.

That's all I know.

Approaching destination.

Arriving at destination.

I want your eyeball.

_

This is ContraCrime. How can I help you?

You're gonna catch hell when they find out

- you let that junkie walk. - Doesn't matter.

All I know is, when you work for Sergeant Gower,

- you stick to the rules. - I don't care what Gower wants.

Police went to shit when they sold out contracts

to a private company.

Crime's down since we went private.

That's 'cause people are afraid.

Good. Fear keeps them in line.

Man, you're starting to sound

like one of those recruitment commercials.

Loading credits.

We used to be cops, remember?

We still are.

We're still the good guys.

- Loading credits. - Prove it.

Come help me investigate that warehouse tonight.

No way.

Squad's hitting up McGoldrick's tonight.

Gonna tie one on.

And that new officer's gonna be there.

You coming?

Oh, I'm good.

You want to chase Bigfoot in your own time, fine.

But at least punch the clock,

punch some faces, get drunk as hell.

That's what's expected of you.

Gower already doesn't like you. Don't make it worse.

Hey, we make quota by Friday and drinks are on me.

Hey, Saint Arthur...

What about you?

Those are from both of us.

Must have collected these while your camera was off today.

Must have.

This is the only thing that will impress me.

Ten teeth by Friday...

or I'll have yours instead.

Told you.

Forget about the warehouse. Come out with us tonight.

Remember that first heat wave...

the summer after the fracking quakes? The whole city was rioting.

I broke into a public storage unit trying to steal some food.

I got caught by a cop.

Nice. I have a whole new respect for you.

Shut up for two seconds and listen.

That was the year they lowered the legal age to 13.

I could have been tried as an adult.

- So how'd you swing it? - I didn't do a thing.

He let me go.

He said he didn't want to see another kid hang.

Saved my life.

That's why you signed up for this shit job?

That guy still on the force?

No.

Every day we go out on patrol, we have a choice...

to make this city a better place...

or make a violent world more violent.

Damn it.

You gonna sit on your ass all night,

or you gonna help me find this warehouse?

Yes.

Let's go.

What is that?

Ladies and gentlemen, bastards and tramps,

bloodsuckers, motherfuckers, road trash, and vamps...

to the queers and the strange

in the crowd and on the stage...

to the violent, the malevolent,

and those seeking a grave...

welcome home!

It's been a cold, dark year.

I'm so glad to see your grease-stained faces,

your filthy smiles.

I am your host, Julian Slink,

master of ceremonies, god of the stage.

Welcome to the meanest,

nastiest, filthiest road race

in the world...

Blood Drive!

Ladies and gentlemen, be obscene.

Be obscene. Be, be obscene.

What the fuck?

Get to the car.

Make the call... code 88. Tell them to send everyone.

There are way too many psychos in there. You need to wait for backup.

How many more people will they kill while we wait?

Make the call.

I got to get a better view.

Now, if the racers would please

line up at the front of the stage...

As some of you know,

we had a few quitters last year.

I know, I know.

But forgive and forget.

All right, so we killed the sons of bitches.