I've... seen things you people wouldn't believe... All those... moments... will be lost in time, like tears... in... rain. Time... to die...
Sushi. "Cold Fish." That's what my ex-wife used to call me.
I'd quit because I'd had a belly full of killing. But then I'd rather be a killer than a victim, and that's exactly what Bryant's threat about "little people" meant. So I hooked in once more thinking if I couldn't take it I'd split later. I didn't have to worry about Gaff. He was brown-nosing for a promotion, so he didn't want me around anyway.
Tyrell really did a job on Rachael. Right down to a snapshot of a mother she never had... a daughter she never was. Replicants weren't supposed to have feelings... neither were blade runners. What the hell was happening to me? Leon's pictures had to be as phony as Rachael's. I didn't know why a Replicant would collect photos. Maybe they were like Rachael... they needed memories.
The report would be routine retirement of a Replicant. Which didn't make me feel any better about shooting a woman in the back. There it was again... feeling in myself... for her... for Rachael.
Gaff had been there, and let her live. Four years, he figured. He was wrong. Tyrell had told me Rachael was special: no termination date. I didn’t know how long we had together... who does?
They don't advertise for killers in the newspaper. That was my profession. Ex-cop. Ex-blade runner. Ex-killer.
Don't be an asshole, Deckard. I've got four skin-jobs walking the streets.
He can breathe OK as long as nobody unplugs him.
Stop right where you are! You know the score, pal! You're not a cop, you're "little people."
Christ, Deckard, you look almost as bad as that skin-job you left on the sidewalk!
You could learn from this guy Gaff, he's a god-damn one man slaughterhouse.
Talk about beauty and the beast — she's both.
The only way you can hurt him is to shove a carrot up his ass