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