[FreePlay] Meeting Liam, a Former CCPD Police Officer | Grand Theft Auto: Carcer City (Mod)

[FreePlay] Meeting Liam, a Former CCPD Police Officer | Grand Theft Auto: Carcer City (Mod) by @paultactico2 on 3Speak

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Transcript

I have a 62-year-old man's jaw. That's a solid start, Mr. Hunch. And you don't look a day over 50. Thank you, Benito. 35, though. Right on. Pops, looking at this woman being run over by a train, and this poodle, it fell on my head, man. Somehow it transported my face 20 years into the future. Where ya, sir? Feario. Who wouldn't lie to a doctor? Much less to it. A minute's such as yourself. Enough respect, Ange. We say fear that a musmustale. I'm think I cold breeze. Beef patties. Absolutely, doctor. So as I was saying, it opened my eyes to the future, man. All right, boys, simple gig. Our client's weapon shipment went, uh, missing. Intel says it landed with a local crew. We kindly retrieve it. Loud or quiet. Soft and tender. Ideally. Though, a few gunshots and screams wouldn't be out of place in this shit hole. I'll do the job. That's why I love working with my friends. So, where's my lead, Ron? I expect to be provided with work materials. Ah, Liam, Liam, I'm sure we've got a spare nine lying around somewhere, right, Xavier? Freelance perks. You're kidding me. No, I'm already here. Fine. Central's requiring my presence. I'm stepping out. Of course you are. It's a piece of cake job. You and Xavier can finish it. In and out. Seriously. Keep both your asses safe. And leave the cargo where you know. I said I'd do it, Ron. Those guys aren't with us. Ugh, fucky. Yo, chill, man, I already sang. Untie me, I'll pass it along. Who the hell are you? You here for the heat. Back wall, wooden grate. Shut up and keep your head down. Name's Kenny. Wrong place, wrong time. I walk out. I'm cutting the zip thighs. You make one move I don't like, and I'll put a hole in you. Understood. Yellow jackets, you don't want them mad at you. You're positive? They're my bread and butter. You get me out of here? I owe you one. Make it too. You already owe me one. Those dogs were the unasional navel seals, maw. If you don't protect the joint from the icy waters of the north, the wicked need start to crisis the marrow. Wait, so the dozen for... Tactical swimming? Strictly tactical Benito. If ye let a poodle rave righteous. If you let him walk the path of the upright, he don't need no barb. His farewell code itself, a true Rasta Pudo grows the mobs of his destiny. He becomes a walking sensor for the backs of the air. No, don't talk about Vox. The internet has annihilated the meaning of that word. It's a trigger word for me now. It's a digital wasteland of just shouting. The internet? Is that like the scratchy netting in my swim trucks? Let's take another call. Hey, Jeff Cash here. Nice to meet you, Jeff. What can we do for you? Do you have a Futurology question for our men hunch here? Maybe you're curious about the world. The fate of this city. The millions that will emerge. The crossers give you trouble? You ring me. She needs your god. Is the mess cleaned up? It's Liam, you fuckface. You even look at your phone. Ha, ha, Liam, right. Sorry, lots on my plate. Some other crew showed up, too. Your kid ran away. Guess he doesn't want to lose the shine. Holy smokes. You okay? You get the cargo? No dice. Your intel isn't good. Well, shoot. Tell you what, I'll still give you something for the effort. Don't worry about Xavier. I'll handle him. Just make sure the money lands in my account. Already on its way. Get some rest, Liam. Oh, what's the punchline?

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