By_the_Book-Transcript texts fringe loggedin no-preview I was working on this transcript at <a href="https://gta.fandom.com/wiki/By_the_Book/Transcript" rel="nofollow">https://gta.fandom.com/wiki/By_the_Book/Transcript</a> when a few minutes after initially publishing it an admin deleted it with the deletion text "09:57, April 4, 2020 Matrexpingvin (Talk | contribs) deleted page By the Book/Transcript (General housekeeping: no)". Always remember to save you work and files folks, for more often than you'd imagine the admins are giant assholes. ([[By_the_Book/Transcript]] was going to be linked at <a href="https://gta.fandom.com/wiki/By_the_Book" rel="nofollow">https://gta.fandom.com/wiki/By_the_Book</a> under the section "See also", like how <a href="https://gta.fandom.com/wiki/Repossession/Transcript" rel="nofollow">https://gta.fandom.com/wiki/Repossession/Transcript</a> is linked at <a href="https://gta.fandom.com/wiki/Repossession" rel="nofollow">https://gta.fandom.com/wiki/Repossession</a>.) Watches videos of this mission at <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKlq_ZyfRVs" rel="nofollow">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKlq_ZyfRVs</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13sYlSDvVsE" rel="nofollow">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13sYlSDvVsE</a>.<div><br /></div><div>File "/sdcard/Download/c/wip.txt" - old work in progress file; Google Translate originally translated it to "<span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Steve: And the asswipes at the Agency know this. (And the intelligence bureau niggas know this too.)", but since fandom.com prevents pages with "nigga" from being published I changed it to "</span><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Steve: And the asswipes at the Agency know this. (And the intelligence bureau turds know this too.)"; the top part of this text file is more worked on the remaining lines. I kept this plain text file as, in correcting, I took some guesses as to what some of the descriptive lines' translations really should be.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>File "/sdcard/Download/c/by_the_book-transcript.txt" - best version yet</div><div><br /></div><div>Text from <a href="https://gall.dcinside.com/mgallery/board/view/?id=rsg&no=91946" rel="nofollow">https://gall.dcinside.com/mgallery/board/view/?id=rsg&no=91946</a> (Korean transcript), names and non-dialog descriptions translated with <a href="https://translate.google.com" rel="nofollow">https://translate.google.com</a> (I fixed some of the English text), edited via <a href="https://textmechanic.com/text-tools/basic-text-tools/find-and-replace-text/" rel="nofollow">https://textmechanic.com/text-tools/basic-text-tools/find-and-replace-text/</a> with the replacements /\s+\(.+$// and / .../.../, typos fixed with <a href="https://www.editpad.org" rel="nofollow">https://www.editpad.org</a>: removed all instances of /^\(.+/ (descriptions which were in parentheses). Non-audio lines translated better by me and added back in (some description lines still do not make a lot of sense):</div><div><br /></div><div><div>(When starting with Trevor)</div><div><br /></div><div>(Call Steve)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Who the fuck is this?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: The guy keeping you out of the gas chamber, Townley's on his way. We need to talk face to face.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Warehouse off Dutch London in Banning.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Oh, we can do more than talk, my friend.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(When starting with Michael)</div><div><br /></div><div>(Call Steve)</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: De Santa.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: That's not the name in your file, Michael. Steve Haines here.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Yeah, Agent Douchebag. Hey, that poor son of bitch we grabbed for you still breathing?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: See for yourself. Right now. Trevor Philips is on his way to help with the debrief.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Warehouse off Dutch London in Banning.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Great. Sounds just like my kinda party.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(When you arrive at the warehouse with Trevor)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Mikey.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You gotta quit that shit, man.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Yeah, I know.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I take speed mostly, and look at me, Boom.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Best shape of my life.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Yeah.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Yeah, I could still take you, sugartits.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: That's because you're fucking deranged. Not because you're in good shape.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Hey, why don't you stick to doing fucking crunches and feeling bad about yourself, alright, pork chop?</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Hey, fuck you!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You know, I'm beginning to think that's exactly what you wanna do.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Yeah. Jesus....</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: I just said the same thing to my wife.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(Upon arrival at the warehouse as Michael)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Sweet Jesus.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: The hell are you doing?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Nothing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Are you taking a dump?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Why do you care, huh?</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: The fuck is wrong with you?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I got abandonment issues.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I see a shrink once a week.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Ah, you know, fuck you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Yeah, well, you know. There's nothing like uh, meeting a bunch of creeps from the government in a quiet building for someone to grow balls.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>Devin: Did you see his face that last time I popped him?</div><div><br /></div><div>Devin: Boom!</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Oh, ladies!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: God, you're an asshole.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You, you back there, I know you, but you? You I don't know.</div><div><br /></div><div>Devin: Yeah, well until I see reason otherwise, why don't we just keep it that way?</div><div><br /></div><div>Devin: Steve, what a pleasure, bro. Oh!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: He reminds me of one of those guys you see advertising pills for middle age men that can't get erections.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Hey, Devin Weston... is a very good friend of mine, so why don't you watch your tongue?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: 'Cause let me tell you something, that guy gets more tail than a... than a tail catcher.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I'll have to fucking remember that line.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You... where did we meet?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Nowhere, pal.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Yeah we did.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Hey, ho, what are we doing here, huh?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: This...</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Please... keep the slick bastard away from me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: No, no. Ferdinand, he's gone, he's gone.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: It's okay, I've got some new friends here now.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: This is Michael, and this...</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: this is Trevor.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: No.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Now our friend here, he claims he doesn't know anything.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I don't... I don't know anything. I don't know...</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I already told nothing. Nothing, I don't know an-an-anything.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Please. Please. Sir.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: You know about the Azerbaijanis.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Huh?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Azerbaijanis!</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I do audio visual, hi-fi audio visual.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: He's top man, good price, VIP.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: You're fucking spy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Oh, no, no, no, no. I'm not spies.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: And the asswipes at the Agency know this.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: So i need to know, what did you tell them and what did they tell you?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I, I told them, I told them... what I tell you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Uh-huh.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: What?</div><div><br /></div><div>(Steve attaches a heart rate monitor to Ferdinand)</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Whoa, whoa, whoa,</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: This doesn't hurt.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: The house in Rockford Hills.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: The man who owns it, he works at the consulate.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: That's all I know.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: That's it?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: That's it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: We're gonna make him speak.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I go. No. no, no, no...</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: You two are gonna drive up to Rockford Hills,</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: and when we find out which man is the man with the problem you put him down.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: 'cause I'm tired of these fucking nitwits at the Agency taking all the glory.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Alright, the fuck is all this, huh?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I think it's a good time, buddy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You know? Go for a drive.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: You get to work, and uh... I'm not here.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: The guy's your neighbor. Caesars Place, Rockford Hills.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Yeah, the more I see of your boss, the more I like him.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: I was you, I wouldn't be so critical of who others associate with.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: So, is he going to be a problem?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: For sure, But there's nothing we can do about it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: If something happened to him right now, I'd be right under a microscope.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: an electron microscope of bureaucratic shit,</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: and that would make it very difficult to keep old secrets.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Oh, well, boohoo for you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: You know who else is having trouble keeping secrets, asshole? Me. After you brought Trevor in on this.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: I only brought him in after you'd put out your press release "Townley's taking scores again!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: The Los Santos reboot.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: If we didn't control the situation, and he'd unearthed this connection, then what?</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Then Trevor flips out, beheads me, kills my family... or raises' em as his own.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: I don't know which is worse. Anyway, any of that could happen at any time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Slow down, Let's think this through. What does he know?</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: He knows I'm alive. He knows I got money. And, now he knows I'm working with the FIB.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Does he know how long you've been working with the FIB?</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: How long? The fuck does the matter?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Either you were working with us before the cash depot job- you walked your crew into an ambush.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: one of them spent ten years on the run, and the other landed in a Federal penitentiary...</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Or?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Or we stumbled on the cash depot job, Brad went down, you went down, Trevor got away.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: The FIB cut you a deal on your sick bed, faked your death, and you end up here.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Who's to say which of those is true?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: That there's any doubt probably accounts for you being alive.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Back there, Trevor made your right away, The second he saw you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: You remember, after the bust, I was in all the papers, I was on the evening news.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: "The man who killed Michael Townley."</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Yeah, I was quite a trophy. a good head to hang on your wall.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Back then, sure. Now now.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(Michael and Dave arrive on site)</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: This is bullshit.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: This place? Davey, they been shooting the "Real Cunts of Suburbia" here the last few weeks.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: No way that's your guy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Shit. You are kidding me. I'll call Steve.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Wrong house, This guy isn't our guy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Okay. Okay. Okay. Uh, you sure you don't want to silence him just to make sure?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: If we're silencing someone, we're silencing the right someone. Get me another address.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Hey, you want a coffee?</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Turns out that was the wrong Azerbaijani. We need a new address from Mr. K.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Choose your instrument, and go to work on him.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Where do we start, eh, buddy?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Wait. What are you talking about, the wrong guy? No. Who do you want?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Just tell me what you want, Huh, man? Huh? Please. Look at me. Please.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(Different texts for each torture tool.)</div><div><br /></div><div>(Torture scene)</div><div><br /></div><div>(When picking a wrench)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: The anticipation is always worse.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You'll barely feel a thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Where you want it?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: It ain't even the biggest tool in the room.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Please don't hit me.</div><div><br /></div><div>(When hitting the knee)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I hope you're not a skier!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Watch the knee!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Knee shot!</div><div><br /></div><div>(If you hit the right arm)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Dead arm.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Don't flinch now!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Take it like a man!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You right handed?</div><div><br /></div><div>(When hitting the penis)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Nutcracker!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Ball breaker!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Bullseye!</div><div><br /></div><div>(When picking up the electric battery.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: How many volts you think they got running through these things?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: This'll put hair on your chest.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Sparky, sparky.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I'm going to level with you. This'll hurt.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: That's dangerous! You could kill me!</div><div><br /></div><div>(If you have been losing for a long time)</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: He's cooked. Quit it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: We need him moderately coherent.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: You'll run out of juice.</div><div><br /></div><div>(When the electrical advisor ends)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: He went and pissed himself!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Look at the chub in his pants!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Oh, I think he's getting a stiffy!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You see his face when I did that?</div><div><br /></div><div>(When picking up the pliers)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Tell me where to start. Are any of those teeth less useful than the others?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Free dental work. Aren't you a lucky boy?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Now, if you open real wide, I might be able to just reach right back there and grab one of those big ones.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You gotta be a sick fuck to want to be a dentist.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I hope you've been flossing!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Dentistry, as an industry, hasn't advanced in the last hundred years, Still a bunch of sadomasochist.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: My teeth are perfect.</div><div><br /></div><div>(When pulling teeth)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You ain't going to be chewing steak anytime soon.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Best way to make a man talk, is to stop him being able to talk.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: He was a tough SOB, that little guy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I 'ust' ant ohh 'et out ob' ere!</div><div><br /></div><div>(When a gas canister with water is selected.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: If my momma had waterboarded me more often, I wouldn't be the gun-toting psychopath you see before you now.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: This is a mental battle, my brother. You've got to convince yourself you're not gonna drown.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Nothing to complain about here, pal. This is totally legit.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: They'll be doing this shit at elementary schools in no time, It's legal, bro. Legal.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I'll panic! My heart!</div><div><br /></div><div>(When tortured for a long time)</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: He's wet alright. Let up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Let up. he might drown.</div><div><br /></div><div>(When the water torture ends)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Help me pick this up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I thought I was dead...</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I can breathe!</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: That was a torture!</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I'm alive!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Like it never happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I wish it never happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: It was all a dream.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: It's a nightmare!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Today's lesson is about government regulation.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(If Ferdinand fainted while tortured.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I guess our interrogation techniques were a little too advanced.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Hasn't this man done enough for national security?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: He looks so peaceful sleeping there. I don't wanna wake him.</div><div><br /></div><div>(When using an adrenaline syringe)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I'm taking a shot of this after him.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Here goes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: We're outta shots. No more second chance.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: All outta shots. Next time you die for real.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Where am I?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: The light! Let me go to it!</div><div><br /></div><div>(If you don't use an adrenaline syringe and you feel good)</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Now hold on, hold on, wh-what the fuck, hold on.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Forget it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: He's fucking dead.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Oh yeah, poor, bastard, man.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: You are a fucking moron.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Whoa.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Hey, I just spent the past few hours torturing a seemingly innocent guy to death, and I don't even know why I did it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: So dose that make me a fucking moron?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: You're going down, punk.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: At the exact moment I get bored with you, your little racket... will end.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Yeah, you love those fucking tough guy lines don't ya huh?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Fuck you!</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(If the first advisor is successful)</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Mr. Philips.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Ask him about Tahir Javan.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Why didn't you ask me?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I know Tahir. I did his home theater....</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: He lives in Chumash.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: The right, on The Western Highway.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Well that wasn't so tough, was it? huh?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Did you get that?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: He lives in Chumash, The Western Highway.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(Changed to Michael's point of view.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Chumash. You're driving.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Remember, terror does not take coffee breaks.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: What a dick.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: So how are Steve and Trevor getting along?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Seems like a productive relationship.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Well, like I said, he's got his uses.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: And as you can see, we're trying to take full advantage of them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Then what?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: This thing with the Agency gets put to rest, and we don't need you anymore.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Right, and what about Trevor?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: What about him?</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: I need some resolution, Davey. You let him walk.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: You said you'd clean the whole thing up back in North Yankton.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: And you told me it'd be a clean job-no casualties.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: There were more eyes on that town than there needed to be.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Yeah, well according to my eyes, Trevor is your problem, Dave, as much as he is mine.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: He's not a problem at all. We're monitoring him. Has he said anything about Brad?</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Fuck yeah, heh has. Plenty. I keep changing the subject.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: You know, he thinks you might actually commute Brad's sentence when this is all over.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: That's good. Fine work. We'll send another letter. It's about time, anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Ah, so that's you who's been sending those fucking letters to Trevor, huh?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Yeah, He thinks they're from Brad-who he thinks is locked up in high security,</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: and not, well not six feet under in a grave marked Michael Townley.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: The trainees write them. It's a good exercise.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: What the fuck? How'd that get started?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: A few years ago, a letter came to the Federal prison system, addressed to Brad.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Wasn't singed, but it gave a PO box in Sandy Shores.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: I played the part of Brad, and we started a correspondence.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Thanks for telling me, Davey.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: I was doing you a favor. Didn't think you'd want to know he was in the same state.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: So now what? I just sit back and hope he doesn't figure it out?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: It's worked so far...</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: He's a time bomb, Dave, and you fucking know it.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(Michael and Dave arrive at the sniper point.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: This'll do.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Alright. Find out who we're looking for.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Yeah, we need a description of the target.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Yeah.. Err..</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: I'll take care of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Loosen him up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Oh, no, no, please, I'll tell you what you want to know.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: What?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Loosen him up!</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: No... Please...</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(If the second advisor succeeds)</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Hey...Hey...Hey...Hey..</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Now.. huh? Now you ready to talk?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I've been ready to talk since the day I got kidnapped six weeks ago.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: That's what we were afraid of.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Now I'm even more willing to talk.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: So... yeah, yeah, yeah.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: this guy we're after, what does he look like?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Average build. Average height. Middle-aged. Dark hair.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Yeah, yeah, sounds like you're stalling. This better be enough.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Middle-aged, middle height, middle build, whatever.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: He's dark, okay? He's Azerbaijani for God's sake.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Look around, that enough for you?</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(If you don't do it in order and you kill the target immediately)</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: What the hell?</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: That was the guy. I had a feeling. It'll check out.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Well... we've.... got him. It's done.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(Sniper view)</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: We're live.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: You see anyone down there who might be an Azerbaijani?</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Fuck do I know? You might be an Azerbajina for all I know. What's one look like?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: They look Eastern.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Half this town looks Eastern, Davey, You got the fall of the Shah and the collapse of communism to thank for that.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Anyone stand out?</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: No, they all kind of blend in. Make a call, Dave.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: We're going to need some more info on this guy. They're having a party down there.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: That ain't gonna cut it, my friend.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Shit. Shit. I, I, let me think...</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Bzzzt!</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Sorry, too late! Trevor, show our contestant what he's won today!</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Okay!</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Wait! wait, wait, I remember!</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(If the third advisor succeeds)</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: So, what have you got for us?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Hmm? We need Trev to shake up your memory again?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: No, no, no no no.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Please, no No, no please, no.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: No, no, no, no, no.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: No, no, he's got beard!</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Oh, he's got beard?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: He's got bushy beard!</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Uh-huh? I think you're making this up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: No, no. I'm not.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Huh? Yeah?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I'm, telling the truth.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Yeah? Bushy beard?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Got any beardy types at this party? Huh?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Because that's all Mr. K's given us.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: You know, I'm thinking maybe we ought to just take two bullets and put them in our informant...</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Please, no.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: and just call an airstrike on Chumash Beach.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Who am I looking for?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Steve's saying "beard". What you got?</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Anything specific, or is some stubble gonna cut it?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Let's start at mountain man, and we'll work our way down till someone fits the profile.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: There's a few beards at this party. Vinewood's full of weak chins. Place is famous for it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Damn!</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Beards are in fashion in Chumash. Land of beach hipsters. We need more.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: It's gonna be a long day until you give us some intel on our target.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: He's a, he's got beard.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: He smokes... he smokes like a fucking chimney!</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: I, I don't know. Trev, maybe one more time? Just to be sure.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Uh huh.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I told you, he smokes.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(If the fourth advisor succeeds)</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I don't know anything. Please...</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Mr. K?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Shh....</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: It's okay.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: He, he chain smokes... he's left handed...</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: What's that?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: He chain smokes... and he's left handed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Aha, okay.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Any of these beardy guys at the party smoke cigarettes?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Mr. K says he smokes like a pack or two a day.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Redwood cigarettes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Thank you Mr. K.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Steve's telling me he chain smokes Redwoods.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: It ain't the cigarettes that'll kill him. It's the guys who put the warnings on the packets he should worry about.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: And he's left handed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Oh, now I get it. You're telling me to assassinate a guy because he's got facial hair, a cigarette, and he's left handed?</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: I'm telling you to assassinate a guy because he's a threat to national security. The rest's details.</div><div><br /></div><div>(When aiming at the same person as the description)</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Oh, I see someone. He fits the profile.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Yup- fits it all the way.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: I got a good feeling... well, good as you can get while clipping a guy who probably don't deserve it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: And now I'm taking the shot.</div><div><br /></div><div>(When killing the target)</div><div><br /></div><div>Michael: Davey, I got someone. Definitely a lefty, Redwood smoking, bearded, maybe, could be, used to be Azerbaijani.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dave: Good enough for me. Steve, It's done.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Woo! That is a wrap my friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Excellent work the pair of you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: Now, I've got a racquetball game to get to, so, Trevor, if you take care of Mr. K, I think we're all set.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: What the fuck do you want me to do with him?</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: I would say he's outlived his usefulness.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Oh, c'mom please.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Shut up!</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve: That's a sport.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Let's go, come on.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Where you taking me to?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Fuck, let's just go, okay?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I ain't gonna let those G-man fucking scumbags tell me what to do.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Then why did you just torture me?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Don't ask too many fucking questions.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Let's go, get up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Come on, up the fucking stairs.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Come on.</div><div><br /></div><div>(Trevor puts Ferdinand in the car.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Alright, now you got a flight to catch.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Okay? Let's get you to the airport.</div><div><br /></div><div>(Trevor corrects his posture.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Oh, safety first.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(If the tooth was removed)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Hey, how's your mouth?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: It hurts.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Can you speak?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Kinda.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Are you going to hold it together?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I want to go home, I want to see my family.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: No, no, no. You have no home. You have no family, That shit is over.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I do. They're in Morningwood. I love them very much.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: No. That's your old life, That's over now. You're off the grid, you're one of the invisible people.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Just take me home.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I'm taking you to the airport. You're going to get on a plane.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You're flying a long way from this country and you're going to spread your message.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I don't have a message.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You're a torture advocate!</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Advocate?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: The media and the government would have us believe that torture is some necessary thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: We need it to get information, to assert ourselves. Did we get any information out of you?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I would have told you everyting.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Exactly. Torture's for the torturer. Or the guy giving the orders to the torturer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You torture for the good times-we should all admit that. It's useless a means of getting information!</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I'm feeling light-headed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Sometimes you torture for the torturee-but only if they're prepared to pay.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I'm very unwell.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: It's "Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me," with you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Jesus Christ. Good grief. I thought we rally bonded, but now I'm having my doubts.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(If the tooth or teeth were not removed)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: How ya feelin'?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I need to get to a hospital.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Nah, you're fine.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I can assure you, I am not.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: No one likes a cry baby. You look great.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Let me see the mirror.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I think I need a hospital.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You are not going to a hospital!!! You need to leave!</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Who are you? And... why are you helping me?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I told you, I don't like being told what to do</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Then why are you working with FIB?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I'm a double agent.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Yeah, then who you work for? IAA?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: The IAA want you dead as well. Don't you remember?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: The Marshal? Globopol? Who?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Globopoo? Did you say Globopoo? I work for the forces of sanity.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Sanity?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: And we need you to tell the world what happened to you... from the safety of a foreign country, preferably a dictatorship.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: What do you mean?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You've got a message, you are a message, yeah? Okay, look, I love torture. Torture for the sake of torture,</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: that's my bag. But there are people in our government, in the media, who think that torture is a means to an end.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: They think it'll get them somewhere. We gotta call bullshit on them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Torture's not going to make you normal friends or get you information.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: I'm slipping out of consciousness. Am I dying?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You're not dying, you're being a bit of a wuss.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: I know people who would pay good money for what you just enjoyed. I would.</div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>(arrived at the airport)</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Departures.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: No one drives me to the airport.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Here we be.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Run.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You're free.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: But my family's here.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Your family is probably the ones who got you fucking in here, alright?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Now look, trust no one, alright?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: You're alone now.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ferdinand: Really?</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Yeah, really, now let's go, fuck off.</div><div><br /></div><div>Trevor: Come on.</div></div> eng Internet Archive HTML5 Uploader 1.6.4 Grand Theft Auto; transcript; torture; By the Book; GTAV; GTAV mission; video games; Grand Theft Auto V; GTA5; Ferdinand; Trevor; Steve; Michael; Michael De Santa; Dave; Devin; Trevor Philips; Steve Haines; Devin Weston leedusmcclein@gmail.com 2020-04-04 10:18:55 2020-04-04 10:18:55 [curator]validator@archive.org[/curator][date]20200404101914[/date][comment]checked for malware[/comment] http://archive.org/details/By_the_Book-Transcript ark:/13960/t4gn6vm1z deemphasize true