Boy, things got nasty in Belgrade, didn't they? It's funny-- up until then, I was aimless, just an ordinary thief, but after Belgrade, I became known as the man who bested the great Ray Reddington.
You didn't best me, Luther. You butchered and clawed your way into my pockets, and innocent people died in the process.
You're such a snob, Red. Always considered yourself above the fray with your handmade suits and your fancy wine, your private jets. Do you even drive? You got everybody convinced you're so hard, Red, but I know better. You're soft.
You're not getting the Fulcrum.
And how you gonna stop me, Red? Bore me to death with Beethoven? Put me to sleep quoting Nietzsche? Come on. We both know that in order to stop me, you got to have balls. You got to run the gauntlet. And after Belgrade, well that's just not gonna happen. So, tell me-- how are you gonna stop me, Red?
A wise man can learn more from a foolish question than a fool can learn from a wise answer.
Was that Nietzsche?
No. Bruce Lee.
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