Hit the Pipe/Script

The following is a script of the mission Hit the Pipe in The Lost and Damned.

Script

Jim: I'm just an American - I like an American bike.

Malc: Yeah I understand - you older, Grandpa, so you like a more sedate ride. Some older, mature shit.

Jim: I'll give you mature shit, Malc. Hey.

Malc: Hey, yo, who that?

Jim: Malc, DeSean, Johnny. Brother of mine.

Malc: Aight?

Johnny: Hey.

Malc: Wassup?

Jim: Malc's got us a connection Johnny.

Johnny: I'm good man - I don't need one of them hairdryers.

Malc: Oh yeah, you sure now?

Jim: No, no, some serious hardware. Malc's got us a connection that ain't got nothing to do with bikes.

Johnny: Oh yeah?

Jim: Yeah. Explosives.

Malc: That's right.

Johnny: OK.

Jim: With this, we could take the Angels of Death out of business for a long, long time.

Johnny: Oh you think? With that it looks like we could take the whole fucking town out of business.

Jim: So what do you say... Are you down?

Johnny: Aw man, you got to ask a question like that? Looks like you're going senile or something man?

Jim: That's what I thought you'd say.

Malc: Yo, you fools have fun. But remember this - you get into any trouble, you ain't meet me.

Johnny: Malc, I don't know where you got that shit man, but one things for sure, we will have fun.

Malc: Aight, play nice.

Jim: Later Malc.

Johnny: Later.

Dialogue

(Johnny begins looking for the vans)

Johnny: Come on you fucking Deadbeats.

Johnny: Where are these assholes?

Johnny: Come on. Where are ya?

(Johnny gets close to an A.O.D. van)

Angels of Death: I'm not in the mood to take another Lost MC scalp right now, let's move out.

Angels of Death: Put the hammer down, alright. This Loser might be making a play.

Angels of Death: Shit, it's one of the Losers. We're outta here.

Angels of Death: Man, I think the Losers are trying to pull something. We're heading back.

Angels of Death: Let's make this Lose chase us before we kick his ass. Come on.

Angels of Death: Get lost, you fucking Loser.

Angels of Death: Man, this war is fuckin' with my head. I can't take anymore of this shit.

Angels of Death: This Loser don't smell right. Let's go.

Angels of Death: Put some distance between us and this Loser, will ya?

(Johnny destroys a van)

Johnny: Fuck the Angels of Death, man.

Johnny: Fuck you, Deadbeats!

Johnny: Up yours, you A.O.D. pussies!

Johnny: Screw the Angels of Death!

Johnny: Kiss my ass, Deadbeats!

Post mission phone call

Jim: Jonathon?

Johnny: Job done, my man. Those Deadbeats ain't a problem and you introduced me to your new friends.

Jim: Yeah, Malc and DeSean are good guys. No bullshit. Apart from the hairdryers they ride. Seriously, man. You should start using the brothers more now that you're in charge. Give Terry or Clay a call if you ever need some help on club business. Might even do them some good to get off their asses. Later on.