The Fly: 2
Anton Bartok: [to Martin] You can finish your Father's work. You're just as brilliant as he was, perhaps even more so.
Veronica Quaife (on videotape): Oh, my God! There's something wrong! I can feel it!
[from videotape, actually a deleted scene from THe Fly 1986]
Seth Brundle (on videotape): I should feel exactly the same as before, but...I don't! I feel...very...energized, very coordinated. I feel as though I work better physically. You know, everything seems to work better than it did before.
Veronica Quaife (on videotape): Why should that be?
Seth: I dunno...It's possible that the teleporter somehow...*improved* me. It might have seen where things could be improved, theoretically, and it did it. I told it to be creative, and...I dunno, maybe it has been...
Martin Brundle: I'm okay.
Martin Brundle: Something odd is happening to me and I don't know what it is.
[meeting with Stathis Borans, now a bitter, crippled recluse]
Martin Brundle: I saw you on the videotape. You were...
Stathis Borans: Don't sit there!
Martin Brundle: You were there the night my father died; he was working on a cure.
Stathis Borans: That's why you dragged yourself all the way out here? To find out about a cure?
Martin Brundle: You're my only hope.
Stathis Borans: Ah. Oh, kid, the last thing *I* am, is *anybody's* hope. You really don't want to hear about this.
Martin Brundle: I *have* to know.
Stathis Borans: Brundle stole my girl, your mother. Got her pregnant. Caused her death. Dissolved my hand and my foot with fly vomit! I had no love for the man. He "bugged" me! As for the "cure" he was working on: he dragged your mother kicking and screaming into that telepod, that they might be fused together in one beautiful body. So your mother blew his brains out with a shotgun. *There's* your *cure*. Go *away*.
Beth Logan: You bastard! Where's your compassion?
Stathis Borans: [chuckles] I had to give it up; it cost me an arm and a leg!
Martin Brundle: It cost you more than that.
Martin Brundle: You mean this is mine? This is my place?
Anton Bartok: Your place. Your private place. No more mirrors. No more prying eye. Well go on, take a look.
Beth: You can't walk... and you're getting worse...
Martin Brundle: I'm getting...*better*!
Anton Bartok: [to Martin] I hope you and I can be very good friends, one day. Well, I know we are. I want us to... I want us to be more than just friends. I want you to think of me as your Dad. Huh?