Slaughter takes a momentary backseat to awe, as these two masters of masochism bask in mutual admiration. Then Creasy cuts the love fest short … by cutting off four of Bauer’s fingers on his left hand. The resultant torture orgy sees ears cleaved, fractures compounded, and nipples seared into jeans rivets; eventually neither combatant appears to possess the functional extremities needed to continue. But when the ref suggests naming a winner by decision, Bauer responds, “Damn it, there’s no time!” and plunges his lonely left thumb through Creasy’s eye and into his temporal lobe for the win.
WINNER: JACK BAUER
Ash has killed friends, undead girlfriends, and his own stray limbs — but never a live woman. So, when he says to Ripley, “Yo, she-bitch, let’s go,” he’s ill prepared for the holocaust of scorned estrogen that follows. In a flash, punted nads burst through his chest like baby aliens as Ripley tears him a second Ash hole and then uses a flamethrower to sear it closed. His death is gruesome enough, but undead Ash gets it worse when Ripley impregnates his face with a pulse rifle, putting him into eternal hypersleep.
WINNER: ELLEN RIPLEY
John McClane has always been partial to Roy Rogers. But the old-timey star he really should have been partial to is Harpo Marx. Because upon facing down 007, McClane makes the classic Bond-adversary mistake: He begins inexplicably blabbing about any move he makes before he makes it. Floor-grate sneak attack? Bond is waiting with a shoe laser. Handgun duct-taped somewhere on his person? Bond easily jet-packs out of danger. Superfly Snuka dive from an air-conditioning duct? Bond has an app for that. The secret agent manages to singlehandedly do what four different armies of mercenaries and terrorists couldn’t: He makes McClane die. Then he beds McClane’s ingrate wife.
WINNER: JAMES BOND
Kung fu meets gun fu, as Hong Kong’s favorite sons battle for the soul of a city … that has about as much soul as John Boehner playing an accordion. With his trusty shotgun, Tequila takes futile aim at the agile Lee, who intersperses wayward gun bursts with nimble dick punches. Like a Looney Tunes character, Tequila produces increasingly large guns out of nowhere, but Lee exposes the fact that a cop from one of the world’s most crime-free cities can’t be all that bad ass by flattening him with a flurry of fist kicks before folding him into origami.