Andreas: You know, chico, hold up where you think youre going man? You got to hold up in here, I'm talking to you alright?
Elizabeta: Johnny! Back off of him, you stupid shit. Can't you tell the difference between a narc and one of my upstanding business associates? I'm sorry about Andreas here. It's impossible to find good help in this city.
Johnny: Don't worry about it.
Andreas: I'm supposed to protect you, okay? It's my job.
Malc: What up, Johnny boy? We talked to your girl. Let's make it happen, captain.
Elizabeta: I didn't think you Lost bikers got down with peoples like Malc here. Them with their sports bikes, you with your choppers. Hell, looking at the two of you don't make no sense to me. It's a crazy city.
Johnny: Well this is crazy times, Liz. There's a recession going on. And in this troubling economic climate, you gotta make compromises. Malc here is my compromise.
Malc: Yo, fuck you clown. You can compromise these nuts. Gimme some.
Elizabeta: Shit, these ain't troubling times for us. People always gonna want what we got to sell. Hell, they going to want even more product when they lose their jobs and ain't got nothin' else.
Johnny: Okay, I guess all we gotta worry about is the cops taking us down then?
Malc: True that, cat. Ay oh, E. Let him know what it is.
Elizabeta: You gotta take some thieving, snitching motherfuckers and show them I'm a bitch, but I ain't their fucking bitch, okay? They bribed a guard on the East Borough Bridge to let 'em through without checking their load, right? You guys is gonna go down there and tear 'em apart. Entiende?
Malc: There it is... we out.
Elizabeta: Now get the fuck out of here.
Malc: We out.
DeSean: A'ight, we out.
Malc: Okay ma, peace. What you waitin' for, the bus?
DeSean: This is not a fuckin' parade.
Malc: Watch your mouth, son.
Andreas: Fuck you.
Elizabeta: Make yourself useful and clean this shit up.
Andreas: Okay, okay, but you know what, I'm gonna need some rubber gloves. I'm gonna be honest okay...
Johnny: Let's keep a low profile and ride in a car, man.
Johnny: I think we better take a cage on this run.
Johnny: We best use a car here, brother. Come on.
(Malc, Johnny, DeSean and another Uptown Riders member get in the car)
Johnny: Can you get your people to bring our bikes to the drop-off?
Johnny: Malc, man, get one of your boys to bring our wheels to the drop off.
Johnny: Dude, can one of your people bring the bikes around?
Malc: They teach you boys how to play with the big dogs in The Lost MC? I hope so. 'Cause this bitch bite back.
Malc: Aight now, try not to do too much damage with these here, aight?
Malc: Take us to the bridge, Johnny boy.
Malc: Lead the way, Johnny.
Malc: Handle this, Johnny.
(Johnny begins to drive towards the East Borough bridge)
Malc: What was all this shit with you dissing me in front of Elizabeta, man?
Johnny: I thought you could handle it.
Malc: I can handle motherfucker. She's just one cold female. And I don't want her thinking I'm a bitch.
Johnny: Then I guess you got to prove yourself. No pressure, man.
Malc: Go fuck yourself, Johnny.
Johnny: This is one serious gun, amigo. This what they call a street sweeper? That's about accurate for this shit. It'll carve through any motherfuckers dumb enough to stand down wind of us.
Malc: No doubt.
Johnny: I'm guessing Liz wants this convoy hit like a fucking freight train if this is the firepower she's dishing out. Should be interesting.
(The four arrive at the bridge and a family drives up to the tollbooth)
Driver: Honey you're doing so great. I'm going to take care of this, we're going to get through this. It's okay, you just breathe.
Guard: You've got to be kidding me. What's the problem? You're holding traffic up. What's the problem?
Driver: Hey, we're kind of in a rush here, okay?
Guard: Listen to me man, you gotta get outta the way.
Driver: Honey. It's okay, just breathe.
Guard: You're holding up traffic. What's the problem here?
Driver: Remember the classes, okay? Would you just let us through?
Guard: Look, you don't got exact change, you're not going through. Those are the rules, I don't make 'em, but I stick to 'em. So just turn around and head on back to Dukes for me, will ya?
Driver: Are you kidding me? Look, I will come back with all the exact change that you need. Alright? Just let us through. Please?
Guard: You gonna pay my bills and put food on the table? Turn around now...
Johnny: Hey look, I got some change right here.
(Johnny walks up and knocks the guard unconcious)
Guard: Aaargh, ahh!
Johnny: Come on, let's get this shit moving.
Malc: A'ight, this one's on us. Now move your ass.
Driver: Thanks guys.
(The family drives away)
Malc: A'ight now, let's do this.
(The four get ready for the convoy)
Johnny: Malc, man, you look good in that booth. You should think about a second career.
Johnny: Good thing that little family didn't come through here five minutes later.
Johnny: What is it about sitting in little booths and wearing uniforms that turns guys into assholes?
Johnny: We're about to see what we're made of, people.
Johnny: Okay, boys. Convoy nearly here.
Johnny: These guys ain't gonna know what hit 'em.
Johnny: The shipment's the target.
Johnny: We gotta get that white shit.
Johnny: We just need the shipment, okay?
(When Malc lets a car pass)
Malc: Yeah, yeah, you're good to go. You're good, go, go.
Malc: Aight, go ahead, go ahead. Let's go.
Malc: Keep it moving, okay?
(The second car drives up to the booth)
Malc: Hey, I can't be to sure but this looks like one of those fake bills I've been hearing about. You know how it is can't trust nothing these days. Can't trust the price of gas, can't trust this President for sure, and you know you can't even trust this money.
Malc: Yo, wait. Don't I recognize you? Wait a minute, wait a minute... Shit, I could swear you was on that show - America's Next Top Hooker. Yeah, you was like John number four or some shit. Right?
Malc: Sorry, sorry, it's my first day. This might take a minute. Seems like everybody here wants to come through this here little gate. What's the big deal about Bohan anyways? Bohan ain't shit, that's for sure.
Angels of Death: Are you really wasting my time like this? Come on.
Angels of Death: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can you let me through?
Angels of Death: Enough of this shit, just let me through, okay?
(Malc lets the second car pass and the van with the drugs approaches the booth)
Malc: You might just get me angry, you hear.
Malc: Come on, motherfuckers.
Malc: Oh, you in trouble now.
Malc: Give up that van now.
Malc: You going to make me lose my mind.
Malc: Yo, give up the van.
(They begin to attack the convoy)
Johnny: The van's ours now.
Johnny: We're here for the shipment, assholes.
Johnny: Hand the shit over, motherfuckers.
Johnny: Get out of here. You're robbed.
Johnny: Give up the van!
Johnny: Time to pay the toll.
(If Johnny shoots the van)
Malc: Come on, Johnny. Ease up on that van.
Malc: Don't shoot the van, Johnny.
Malc: Don't fuck up our money, Johnny.
Malc: That's the van we're trying to steal, John.
(While fighting the Angels of Death)
Malc: Come on, Johnny. Pull your weight, yeah?
Johnny: Pull on my Johnson, Malc.
Johnny: Having fun there, Malc?
Malc: Oh yeah. For sure.
Johnny: DeSean, stay in cover, man.
DeSean: I'm cool. I'm cool.
Malc: You alright there, Johnny?
Johnny: Yeah, man. I'm cool. Just holla if you need any help now.
Johnny: How many you got now, Malc?
Malc: Shit, I don't know. Lost count, son.
(While using the Streetsweeper)
Johnny: Fuck me. This is an American firearm.
Johnny: You ain't hiding from this gun, bitches!
Johnny: Now I got me a gun.
(Johnny and Malc get in the van)
Malc: We got a lockup on the Point, man. Come on.
Malc: Take us to the Point, Johnny. We got a lockup there.
Johnny: So, Malcolm, I got a question for you.
Malc: Sure thing, Jonathan. Shoot.
Johnny: Well, Malcolm, it's your crew. The Uptown Riders. Are you a, a motorcycle club like us and the Angels of Death?
Malc: I don't know. I mean, we ride bikes and we ride them hard. But the thing is we don't wear fancy dressed or do pink finger shakes or anything like that. So I ain't sure what that makes us.
Johnny: We're adults here, Malcolm.
Malc: Allegedly, Johnny boy. Allegedly.
Johnny: So let's not let this descend into an argument about the merits of good American machinery versus foreign plastic fantastic crap.
Malc: Or why you guys look like rejects from a bondage club.
Johnny: Or, why you guys dress like the Republican Space Rangers.
Johnny: Anyway, what I'm asking is, what's the deal with this music you put out and the branded clothing and shit?
Malc: It's just part of our vibe man, roll with it.
Johnny: The vibe?
Malc: Yeah, man. The vibe. It's how we do. You know we a complete subculture. Like you guys used to be. Back in about what, '63 or something? Completely fucking lost, if you ask me.
Johnny: We still got heart, man. The Lost MC are still here. We just don't get on MeTV and scream about it.
Malc: Yeah, sure you are. Whatever you say, Johnny boy.
(Johnny and Malc deliver the van to the drop off)
Malc: Whoo, well now, that's a fine little nest egg to get us through a low point int these here global markets, baby.
Johnny: Sure, Malc. I'm just hoping you, me and Liz can stay outta jail long enough to enjoy it. Later on.
Johnny: It's good to roll with you, Malc. Not that we know each other too well. But you can't be a bigger mope than the lost two fuckups Liz Torres had me partying with.
Malc: Calm down.
Johnny: Uh huh. This fool called Playboy X and some off the boat European. No surprise, the deal went to shit.
(Johnny and Malc take the van to the lockup)
Malc: Yo, Johnny boy, I got a question for you, if you got the inclination to answer.
Johnny: Shoot, Malc.
Malc: What's up with you guys and the Angels of Death?
Johnny: There's a war. Stupid shit, but very violent.
Malc: "There's a war." You sounding all dramatic and shit.
Johnny: Well, it's serious business. I lost a lot of brothers. Killed a lot of men, too.
Malc: My bust. I didn't mean to make light of that Johnny. Oh aight, so, like, it's like one of those gang wars they have out there in Los Santos, or something?
Johnny: I guess, a bit.
Malc: Cause, man, I mean - I met some of these Angels of Death and they're some real unfortunate sons-a-bitches. Racism, misogyny, bad personal hygiene. But still, why you wanna kill each other?
Johnny: It's the personal hygiene thing. We're real sticklers for cleanliness in The Lost MC.
Malc: Yeah, I can tell with them clean crisp threads you wearing, Johnny. Joking aside, man. Is this shit worth it?
Johnny: Man, I don't know. What is worth it? Sticking our heads out to steal a truck of blow for a few thousand bucks? I don't know. The alternative seems kind of lame too. Going straight.
Malc: I guess. But...
Johnny: Yeah, alright, alright. Let's drop it.
Malc: No doubt, drop that bitch like she hot. The bitch has dropped.
(If Johnny calls Clay for backup)
Clay: Let me guess, you need help.
Johnny: Man, Clay, you psychic or something? But this will be worth your while, Brother.
(If Johnny calls Terry for backup)
Terry: Jonathan. Need a hand?
Johnny: I do, I do. There's a van that's in the wrong hands, if you catch my drift.
Terry: Well, we should do something about that. See you soon.
Post mission phone call
Elizabeta: Johnny, did you get rid of that stupid bike of yours and drive my van for me?
Johnny: Yeah, I did and it handled like a piece of shit. I dumped it in the lockup you mentioned, if you're interested.
Elizabeta: Not in the van, baby. But maybe I'm interested in what's in the back of it. I'll send Andreas to check it out. See you soon.
Post mission text message
A friend of mine asked me to pass on the number of her boyfriend's cab business. It's called Bellic Enterprises and it's 555-2222. - Liz
Failing the mission
Malc: God damn, Johnny. All that shit gone to waste. We ain't even gonna get paid now.
Johnny: No, we ain't. Later on, man.
(Johnny calls Elizabeta)
Johnny: Got some bad news, Liz. That van ain't going anywhere. Sorry.
Elizabeta: Ha ha. Don't think I would have been on the outside long enough to sell it anyway. Don't get arrested, Johnny.
Johnny: Hey, dude, I'm sorry. Your brother's gonna be remembered.
Malc: Yeah... he damn sure will. It just a shame he gonna be remember for a stick up gone wrong. Yo, peace out Johnny.
(Johnny calls Elizabeta)
Johnny: This ain't happening, Liz. We're a man down.
Elizabeta: Well, with these cops sniffing around we might all be gone soon. Maybe he's the lucky one. So long, Johnny.
DeSean: Malcolm, man. That shit is cold.
Johnny: True, man, true. Shit gets colder every day. I'll see you round.