Death Race: Beyond Anarchy

"Connor Gibson is not the man we are coming to know. He is a warrior. A very decorated and specialized warrior, known in the shadow world of government killers for his wet work with the CIA. Targeted killing is his forte, and I am his mark. Hes here at the behest of Weyland International. Sent here by the fascists from the outside because they think Ive gained too much power. They fitted him with a strap, and he hangs around their waist like a hatchet. Theres a helicopter ride to freedom waiting for him at the finish line. Tell me, Sergeant, am I wrong?"

"Dont pick a fight with Godzilla cause you think you know how to throw a punch. Sleep on it. You still want Death Race tomorrow... well talk."

"Death Race is for sociopathic killers. You gotta have gravel in your guts. You have to live for the smell of motor oil and high octane fuel. You gotta love the sound of rubber on asphalt, and the taste of blood in your mouth. And when you go to sleep at night, I mean that deep REM sleep, the sound of bullets whizzing past your head should give you comfort."

"Sometimes I get the feeling that Frank is playing chess... while the rest of us are playing checkers."

"And here they are! Welcome to Death Race, the ultimate in auto carnage. One day, 11 drivers, four stages and over 250 live camera feeds."

"Send me the best youve got, Warden. Ill send them back to you skinned, gutted and quartered."