The Snow Storm/Script

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Script

Little Jacob: Ah bang ya in ya bloodclot Ya have fe come satta, me nah pusshole.

Elizabeta: Yeah? Fuck you, fucking reggae idiot bitch.

Little Jacob: Wha' ya wan' do? Ya wan' bloodclot?! Coz ya nah even bambaclot ready, ya know?!

Elizabeta: Stop speaking that gibberish.

Little Jacob: Fat bumbaclot pussyhole gal, you know this? Shot ya in ya bumbaclot... 'ey yo! Don't touch this!

Elizabeta: Fuck you!

Niko: Hey, hey, hey. What's wrong? What's wrong?

Elizabeta: Jacob here... you know Jacob?

Niko: Yes.

Elizabeta: Jacob tells me it wasn't him. But some people he introduced me to have ripped me off big time. And put the heat on me. I know they did. Or someone did.

Niko: Alright, alright, alright.

Little Jacob: Ah not my fault, ya know, rasta? Ah not my bloodclot fault.

Elizabeta: Well, not your fault...

Little Jacob: Ya nah come in'na me face!

Elizabeta: Alright! You better hope Niko can make this right for you then.

Little Jacob: Or what?

Elizabeta: Or we've got a big fucking problem, rasta. Niko, go do this fools job for him.

Niko: Yeah, I got it.

Little Jacob: Watch me and her... watch me and...

Niko: See you later.

(Niko arrives at the old hospital)

Spanish Lord: This is scale fish. Imported straight from Bolivia, manito. Polvo puro. The best, man.

Biker: You're in America now. The best of everything gets made here. If the best stuff got made in Mexico or Columbia or wherever, why do you all run across the border? Tell me that.

(Niko retrieves the coke and phones Jacob)

Niko: I've got the stuff. You know where the heat is coming from?

Little Jacob: I think I getting closer, ya know? But dere one more cat me haffi speak to.

Niko: Shit! Speaking of fucking cops, I think I have company. I gotta go.

(Niko loses the cops and calls Jacob)

Niko: I lost the heat, where are you?

Little Jacob: Chase Point, I'm with some bakra, say he know I. Get here now Niko. Dis be some strange shit.

(Niko meets Jacob in Bohan)

Niko: Jacob, what are you talking about? You know, I think you're smoking too much.

Little Jacob: Yo! Me t'ink me know where da heat a come from, ya know, king?

Michelle: Hey, Niko! Hey, Jacob.

Niko: What are you doing here? This is no place for you, Michelle.

Michelle: As it happens, it is. You see, Niko, I have been working for the government. I'm afraid it's my job to watch you. And now I have to ask you for the coke.

Niko: This is a joke, right?

Michelle: Please, please, don't make this harder for me than it already is. Look, they are about to take down Elizabeta.

Niko: I don't fucking believe this.

Michelle: Listen... I'm sorry it had to be this way Niko. I'm really sorry. Hey, you know, you could have gone down too if you weren't so useful.

Niko: You fucking bitch.

Michelle: Niko...

Little Jacob: Hold on. You mean fe say ya gwa'an let us off just like dat? Nuttin' a gwa'an?

Michelle: Well, my employers need the help of a guy like Niko. The office is in Algonquin. I'll call you. You know, as and when we need you. The coke please.

(Michelle leaves)

Little Jacob: Tsk! Cho, king, me have fe tell Elizabeth, say she nah get dat cocaine, ya know?

Post mission phone call

Mallorie: Niko, I heard that Michelle was a cop or a fed or something, is it true?

Niko: I don't know what she is, but she was lying to us all along and now I'm paying for it.

Mallorie: Putanesca. There was always something funky about her. I'm real sorry.