Saint Mark's Bistro/Script
Salvatore Leone: Just feel the weight of the weapon, sweetheart.
Maria Latore: I can feel the weight of someone's weapon!
Salvatore Leone: Well, you're the one to blame on that front.
Maccer: Can I fucking go now or fucking what?
(Salvatore throws the knife at Maccer and hits him right below the balls.)
Maccer: Oooh! You fucking twat, right in the fucking happy sack!
Kent Paul: Perhaps you'll be cured of your little anti-social condition, mate.
(Carl Johnson enters.)
Salvatore Leone: Carl, my man!
Carl Johnson: Mr. Leone.
Salvatore Leone: Looks like this piece of shit was right. You did a real number on those Forelli losers. Now it's time the Forellis found out what it means to screw with Salvatore Leone! How would you like to hit the St. Mark's Bistro?
Carl Johnson: A hit in Liberty City? Cool, but I'm gonna need some back-up.
Salvatore Leone: Take who you want.
(Carl points at Kent Paul and Maccer.)
Carl Johnson: Well, I usually I use these two.
Ken Rosenberg: Heh-hey. Remember all those jobs we did together, huh? Huh? You and me, Carl, remember, huh? You know, you used to call me 'Killer' Ken? Ken the Killer? Killer? Ice Cold Ken... that's me.
Carl Johnson: And him too, I guess...
(Carl, Ken, Maccer and Kent Paul leave Caligula's Palace)
Carl Johnson: Alright, you guys better get out of Las Venturas, fast! I'll be in touch.
Maccer: What about your back-up, man, will you be alright without us?
Ken Rosenberg: Of course he will you fucking moron, come on!
Forelli Guard: Private function, invitation only!
Carl Johnson: Oh yeah? Well, Mr. Leone says otherwise!
(Carl kills all the Forellis in Marco's Bistro and then heads back to Las Venturas in Salvatore's Jet.)
Carl Johnson: This is flight CJ 101 out of Liberty City, requesting final approach to Las Venturas International, over.
Air Traffic Control: Flight CJ 101, you are clear for landing on Runway 3, over.