[Penn has a knife to Dane's nose] Penn:You let *me* handle Ryback. And *you* take care of the techno-shit. He's mine. I'll take him myself hand-to hand. Travis Dane:[to the computer]C'mon my little Ghost Satellites. I need you with me to hide my baby up there, so she can blow the *fuck out of Washington.* Travis Dane:[to Penn]Yeah, go get your throat ripped out. I've got 8 million people to kill and a billion dollars to pick up.|