Neon bleeds down rain‑slick L.A. as a murdered D.A. tape points to a reborn cult—the Night Slashers 2.0—axes up, masks on, livestreaming fear. Stallone’s Lt. Marion “Cobra” Cobretti crawls out of retirement, matchstick back between his teeth; Statham’s hard‑line fugitive hunter is sent to bring him in… or ride shotgun.

Fox plays a razor‑smart cyber‑forensic ADA tracing blood money through burner chains. Set pieces crack: a supermarket siege that flips every aisle into cover, a chopped ’50 Mercury vs. sport‑bike swarm through tunnel neon, slaughterhouse sprinklers hissing over an axe‑circle brawl, and a freight‑yard finale with cranes swinging like guillotines.

Synthwave growls, muzzles flash, and the old line lands like a hammer: “You’re the disease—I’m the cure.”