I always hated this place.

The Walther PPK/S nine-millimeter short. It's been coded to your palmprint so only you can fire it. Less of a random killing machine, more of a personal statement.


[aiming the signiture gun at Sanchez's office window] Watch the birdy, you bastard.

Drug dealers of the world, unite!

Franz Sanchez

Pam Bouvier: Out of Gas. I haven't heard that one in a long time.
James Bond: Well, they must have hit the fuel line.

Xenia Onatopp: You don't need the gun, Commander.
James Bond: Well, that depends on your definition of safe sex.

Alec Trevelyan: James... what an unpleasant surprise.
James Bond: We aim to please.

So, what's the choice, James? Two targets - time enough for one shot

Alec Trevelyan

Xenia Onatopp: Enjoy it while it lasts.
James Bond: The very words I live by.

Kincade: So who are we going up against?
James Bond: This isn't your fight.
Kincade: Try and stop me, you jumped-up little shit.

Perez: What about the money, patron?
Franz Sanchez: Launder it.

We are the two rats left. We can either eat each other, huh, or eat everyone else.

Raoul Silva

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