Father/Son/Script

From Grand Theft Wiki
Jump to: navigation, search

This is the script for the Father/Son mission in Grand Theft Auto V.

(Michael De Santa walks into his house to find his wife Amanda and daughter Tracey arguing)

Tracey De Santa: You're such a fucking dictator! Why the fuck not?

Amanda De Santa: He is not staying the night! He's a bum!

Tracey De Santa: Oh my god!

Amanda De Santa: I don't even know why you are with him!

Tracey De Santa: I don't give a shit!

(The screen switches to Michael in his garden)

Amanda De Santa: He's a bum!

Tracey De Santa: Are you kidding me?

Amanda De Santa: He is homeless!

Tracey De Santa: He doesn't have anywhere to go!

Amanda De Santa: I don't care!

Tracey De Santa: Oh my God!

Amanda De Santa: I do, you hear me?

Amanda De Santa: I don't care!

Tracey De Santa: Oh my God! You have no say...

Amanda De Santa: Keep your mouth shut!

Tracey De Santa: I fucking saw him!

Amanda De Santa: What I do is none of your business! And you watch your language!

Tracey De Santa: It's not fair!

(Michael puts in headphones to drown out the sound of the argument)

Amanda De Santa: I'm gonna call your father and you're gonna get your ass kicked!

Tracey De Santa: I hope someone cuts your brake cables!

Amanda De Santa: I swear to God, you kill me! You kill me!

(Michael begins to play the music)

Amanda De Santa: You know it's not that I wish I...

Tracey De Santa: Stupid bitch...

("I Don't Care Anymore" by Phil Collins plays on Michael's iFruit phone and Michael begins to relax until Franklin Clinton turns up)

Michael De Santa: What do you want?

Franklin Clinton: Man, I come by for that drink you offered. That's all.

Michael De Santa: I wasn't really serious about that.

Franklin Clinton: What?

Michael De Santa: You're here, whatever. Sit. You're not gonna rob me again?

Franklin Clinton: Man, I never robbed you. That was just a repossession.

Michael De Santa: Okay... you call it whatever you wanna call it. I really don't care. What can I do for ya?

Franklin Clinton: Shit, I just came by to see if there's somethin' I can help you with. I see you doin' well for yourself.

Michael De Santa: Look... I'm retired.

Franklin Clinton: Ain't you a bit young for the pipe, slippers, and starin' at a fuckin' sunset?

Michael De Santa: You know, I've been in this game for a lot of years, and I got out alive. That makes me the right age. You look like a good kid. If you want my advice, you give this shit up. You work hard, screw over everybody that you love, hurt, rob, kill indiscriminately and maybe... just maybe, if you're lucky, you become a three bit gangster. It's bullshit. Go to college. Then you can rip people off and get paid for it. It's called capitalism.

Franklin Clinton: Hmmm, so what I saw the other day was like when a corpse briefly reanimates itself and terrorizes everyone, right?

Michael De Santa: What you saw the other day... was a guy dealing with pests.

Franklin Clinton: I guess I never saw myself as just a fuckin' pest.

Michael De Santa: Well, then the day's lesson's all about humility. Tomorrow we'll try a training montage.

Franklin Clinton: A training what?

Michael De Santa: Nothin'. I was just lost in an eighties movie fantasy.

Franklin Clinton: Yeah, I can see you spend a lot of time there.

Michael De Santa: Yeah, as much as I can.

Franklin Clinton: So that's why you here in Vinewood then, right?

Michael De Santa: Maybe I'm here because I'm just an idiot, who thinks that imported palm trees are a good substitute for not really knowing what the fuck you're doing on this earth.

Franklin Clinton: Jesus, man. You a good time, you know that?

Michael De Santa: I'll tell you what, least I can do is buy you that beer. There's a little bar I like. It's not too far from here. Let's go.

Franklin Clinton: Alright man, I'm following you.

(Michael and Franklin begin to walk to the front of the house)

Michael De Santa: We're taking my wife's car.

(Michael receives a phone call from his son Jimmy)

Michael De Santa: Hey Jim, I'm going for a drink w...

Jimmy De Santa: Dad, shit! I'm in our boat going down the Western Highway. It's, it's been stolen.

Michael De Santa: What? The yacht's been stolen?

Jimmy De Santa: I was trying to sell it. I know you didn't want it sold, but I need money, and they don't want to buy it, they just want to take it. I'm hiding in the head.

Michael De Santa: You're insane! Alright, I'm coming for my boat!

(Michael hangs up on Jimmy and begins talking to Franklin)

Michael De Santa: Alrighty then. Change of plans. My darling boy is in trouble.

Franklin Clinton: Eh, I'll help you out.

(Michael begins driving towards Pacific Bluffs)

Michael De Santa: Lesson number one: don't ever have kids.

Franklin Clinton: Hey man look, if I had kids, I don't think no parenting issues would arise over who had boat privileges and who don't. Shit, motherfuckers be lucky to sit in a bath tub.

Michael De Santa: Shit, things that desperate, huh?

Franklin Clinton: Nah, but, you know, shit, I was making a point.

Michael De Santa: Mythologizing self-deprecation, I know it well...

Franklin Clinton: Yeah man, but shit, where the boat at?

Michael De Santa: Little shit's been hijacked. They're somewhere on the Western Highway.

(Michael drives to the Del Perro Fwy and sees his boat on the back of a truck being driven at high speed)

Michael De Santa: Oh! There! There it is! That's my boat!

Franklin Clinton: Your boat's in a fuckin' hurry, man.

Michael De Santa: Yeah, well, we'll catch 'em.

(Michael begins to chase the truck)

Franklin Clinton: We got a plan?

Michael De Santa: Sure. Once I get us up close, you're the boarding party.

Franklin Clinton: More like the falling in traffic party.

Michael De Santa: You'll be fine. Anything happens, I got a piece in the glove box. I'll cover you.

Franklin Clinton: Oh, yeah, man. Fine. Just fucking fine. So you thought of everything, right?

Michael De Santa: Well you said you wanted to learn the old way of doing things. This is the old way.

(Franklin jumps on to the back of the truck from the hood of Amanda's red Sentinel)

Michael De Santa: Yeeeesh! I love that thing!

(Franklin is confronted by a man on the boat)

Marabunta Grande gangster: Oh, fuck!

(Franklin and the gangster begin fighting)

Marabunta Grande gangster: Fuck! Fuck!

Franklin Clinton: Get yo' ass out of here.

Michael De Santa: Not the engine! Shit! The fucking engine!

(Franklin throws the gangster off the back of the yacht being transported on the truck directly into Michael's path)

Michael De Santa: You got four lanes to throw guys at!

(Franklin crouches down to hide as another gang member arrives on the yachts deck)

Michael De Santa: Be cool, Frank. Be cool. Shit./Man the life boats, you pricks! Get the jump on him, Frank.

(Franklin confronts the gang member and the two attempt to throw the other off on to the highway)

Franklin Clinton: Hey, this dude's trying to kill me, man! Hey, shoot this motherfucker!

Michael De Santa: Get away from him.

Franklin Clinton: Hey, ain't you covering me?

Marabunta Grande gangster #2: You on the wrong boat, boy.

Franklin Clinton: Nah, you on the wrong boat.

(Michael then shoots the gang member)

Michael De Santa: Okay! Now, go find Jimmy!

(Jimmy appears on the deck having escaped from the yachts head)

Jimmy De Santa: Dad? Wait! You're the guy from the dealership?

Franklin Clinton: Yup. And it's a long story, bro.

(The mast, which Jimmy had been leaning on, swings out over the freeway)

Michael De Santa: Jimmy! Kid, watch out for the boom!

Jimmy De Santa: Oh fuck!

Michael De Santa: Fuck, hold on.

Jimmy De Santa: Arrrghh! Dad! Help! Help! Help!

Michael De Santa: Whoa! Crap!

Franklin Clinton: Get under him, man! Let him drop in the car.

(Michael drives the Sentinel under Jimmy who then falls into the car while another gang member attempts to throw Franklin off the boat. Franklin, who is holding on to the side of the boat, eventually manages to throw the gang member off)

Michael De Santa: The fuck is wrong with you, kid?

Jimmy De Santa: Dad?

Michael De Santa: Don't "Dad" me, you little shit. You better hope she's still seaworthy.

(Another gang member, attempting to pull the mast back in line with the boat, falls off on to the freeway)

Michael De Santa: This is gonna kill me!

(Franklin climbs back on to the boat and goes to the back)

Franklin Clinton: Hey! Get me off of this damn thing!

(If Michael is not close enough)

Franklin Clinton: Hey, get right up the back of that thing!

(If Michael is still not close enough)

Franklin Clinton: Hey, closer, man! Closer!

Franklin Clinton: I ain't jumping from here, man! Get closer!

Franklin Clinton: Right behind it homie! Come on!

Michael De Santa: I'm fucking this up! Shit! I can't do this! Come on!

Michael De Santa: They're getting away! Fuck!

(Michael drives the car close to the back of the truck carrying the boat)

Franklin Clinton: Shit!

(Franklin lands on the Sentinel)

Franklin Clinton: Remind me not to come to you for parenting advice.

(Franklin begins climbing over the windshield)

Michael De Santa: That everyone? Alright. Time to get the boat back./All-a-fuckin' board? Let's stop this ship from sailing.

Jimmy De Santa: This is getting really weird, pop./You've made me an accessory to manslaughter.

(The Sentinel's engine begins to fail)

Jimmy De Santa: Ohh, now that doesn't sound good.

Franklin Clinton: Damn, that's the engine, man. We ain't chasing shit in this thing.

Michael De Santa: Hold it together. My fucking boat!

Jimmy De Santa: Hey... it's just a thing! At least you've still got a son...

Franklin Clinton: Eh. There's a chop shop back there, dog. You drive us there, we can get the ride fixed.

(Michael turns the Sentinel around and begins to drive towards the Los Santos Customs at Los Santos International Airport)

Michael De Santa: My boat!

Jimmy De Santa: It's just a thing.

Michael De Santa: My boat.

Jimmy De Santa: Please stop doing that... Listen... I fucked up, okay... I'm not going to lie. That was... a really bad judgement call... but... shit, Dad, I nearly died, and all you give a shit about is this fucking boat?!

Michael De Santa: No... it's not that... it's....

Jimmy De Santa: All we do is scream at each other... no wonder I can't get a job... It's all your fucking fault. Or, it's not... but it's partly your fault. I... I mean, I just want to impress you.

Michael De Santa: By selling my boat to some gang bangers?

Jimmy De Santa: I know it sounds dumb when you put it like that... but all you do is day dream or get angry...

Michael De Santa: Look, I love you Jimmy, but you're an asshole, and right now, with my boat disappearing over the horizon, that's all I can see... Franklin, would you do me a favor and give this kid a ride home after they've fixed this thing? I want to headbutt the road in peace.

Jimmy De Santa: Oh, great - leave me with the home invader!

Franklin Clinton: I'll get it done, dog. No problem.

Jimmy De Santa: Dad!

Michael De Santa: Enough. Alright? Enough. Franklin, do me a favor, call me a taxi, will you?

Franklin Clinton: No problem./Sure thing man.

(Franklin phones the Downtown Cab Co.)

Franklin Clinton: Hey, I need a cab as soon as you can send one. Los Santos Customs, by the airport. A'ight. Thanks.

(Franklin hangs up)

Michael De Santa: Thanks, man.

Franklin Clinton: Eh, so you ahh, do much yachting?

Michael De Santa: Not any more, no, I don't.

Franklin Clinton: Before, I mean, man.

Michael De Santa: Nah, not really. This little shit stays in his room all day, and I don't have many other people to go with, you know. I liked looking at it.

Franklin Clinton: Looking?

Michael De Santa: Yeah. I'd come down to the marina, sit on the deck, pour myself a drink, and look at her - Jacqueline. It'd clear my head, you know. Let me dream.

Franklin Clinton: Jacqueline, huh? Well, maybe you need to do some other shit to fill your time. Dream other dreams, man.

Michael De Santa: Yeah, sure, whatever.

(Michael drives towards Greenwich Pkwy)

Franklin Clinton: Up there, ah, go left.

(Franklin spots Los Santos Customs in the distance)

Franklin Clinton: Hey, this the place up here. I know this dude, man, his name's Hao. He goin' look after us.

Michael De Santa: Take what's in my pocket - a couple of thousand bucks. That'll cover it, right?

Franklin Clinton: Yeah. Should be cool.

Michael De Santa: Good.

(Michael drives to the entrance of Los Santos Customs)

Michael De Santa: So, you sure you're good.

Franklin Clinton: Yeah, I got this.

Michael De Santa: Alright.

(Michael gets out of the car with Franklin moving over to the drivers seat)

Jimmy De Santa: Ooo, and I'm gonna come up front.

Michael De Santa: Get out and walk around.

Jimmy De Santa: It's okay, I can just climb over.

Franklin Clinton: Look, man. I'm gonna get the ride fixed, man and drop it back off at your house along with this dude.

(Michael begins hailing the taxi over)

Franklin Clinton: It's all good though, man. You go and get your head right, alright?

Michael De Santa: Alright. Listen, thanks for today. Appreciate it. You stop back at the house, we'll talk.

Jimmy De Santa: Ugh. You see?

Franklin Clinton: Fo' sho, man. Hey, sorry we didn't get your boat, man.

Michael De Santa: Yeah.

Jimmy De Santa: Come on, man. Let's trick this whip, homie.

(Michael gets into the taxi and Franklin drives the Sentinel into Los Santos Customs)

Jimmy De Santa: Come on, man. Let's get in there.

Hao: Still need to get you out for one of the races, Franklin. See if you drive as fast as you talk.

(The car is repaired)

Jimmy De Santa: Alright. Good as new.

(Franklin drives the car out of the garage)

Jimmy De Santa: Are you trying to think of, like, the sickest ride that's even conceivable?

Franklin Clinton: Alright, man. I'm taking you home.

Jimmy De Santa: It's Franklin, right?

Franklin Clinton: Yeah, Franklin. Or the credit fraud guy, the home invader, you know what, call me what you like, man.

Jimmy De Santa: Yeah, ahh, no, I mean, sure...

Franklin Clinton: Jimmy, ain't it? Or James?

Jimmy De Santa: Jimmy. Or just like... Jizzle.

Franklin Clinton: No man, I'll just stick with Jimmy, homie.

Jimmy De Santa: So, ahh, what's the deal, man?

Franklin Clinton: Huh?

Jimmy De Santa: You and my old man? I see you at the dealership. Then someone steals my whip. And Pop is all like, he's been down there to talk to you guys.

Franklin Clinton: Your pops did more than talk.

Jimmy De Santa: What he do?

Franklin Clinton: Look, man, if he ain't tell you, I ain't gonna tell you. But I lost my fuckin' job and I thought maybe he could help me find a new one.

Jimmy De Santa: Dude, my dad is retired. Like, fully. Like, his only marketable skills are watching TV and daytime drinking.

Franklin Clinton: Man, look, I dunno, homie, he seems okay to me. Shit, he saved your ass.

Jimmy De Santa: You saved my ass.

Franklin Clinton: Nah, nah, man. Well, well, maybe we good together, you know? Like, maybe we can get shit done we couldn't do separately.

Jimmy De Santa: If it keeps him out the house, that's cool by me.

Franklin Clinton: Yeah, well, we'll see.

Jimmy De Santa: Look, I'm sorry my dad lost you your job. It's hard to out there. Tough. I mean, I'm employmentally challenged at the moment.

Franklin Clinton: Oh, you got fired, dude? Damn, that's rough.

Jimmy De Santa: Not fired, as such, I didn't get a job.

Franklin Clinton: I been there, homie. You been putting them resumes out there, but no one's hiring, huh?

Jimmy De Santa: No, I, uhh, I didn't get a job. I've never had a job. It feels like hard work, life. The days just kind of disappear. Hey, you play Righteous Slaughter?

Franklin Clinton: Nah. Not since the first couple.

Jimmy De Santa: Okay.

(Franklin and Jimmy arrive at the De Santa House)

Jimmy De Santa: So, like, since we're both unemployed, like, we could run together, you know?

Franklin Clinton: Yeah, I'll think about it, homie.

Jimmy De Santa: Yo, or we could just like, chop it, y'know? Play darts or get our drink on? Strip clubs? Come dude, I get real crazy.

Franklin Clinton: Yeah, I got your number should I need it, man. But, uh...hey-hey, you know what? Man, go easy on your pops, dog. Alright?

Jimmy De Santa: Alright. Church.

Franklin Clinton: Exactly, man.

Jimmy De Santa: My brother from another mother. I mean... I-I hope so 'cause my mom was kind of a skank back in the day. See ya!

Franklin Clinton: Yeah, whatever, homie. Peace!

Mission failure

If Michael fails to get the Sentinel close enough for Franklin to jump off an alternative cutscene takes place with Michael pulling over.

Michael De Santa: Fuck!

(Michael pulls over as the engine continues to fail)

Jimmy De Santa: Dad, don't be all butt hurt. At least you got me out of there.

Michael De Santa: You listen to me, you little shit! That kid just jumped off the hood of a moving car to save your ass, and now he's gone! And so is my boat!