Bait

Quiet night, boys?

Yes, sir.

Gentlemen, we owe a quarterly.

Vault 23, encryption download.

Loaded.

Level five. Sonic, please.

Stable.

Motion.

Stable.

Status check, please.

All secure.

Excellent.

Carry on, gentlemen.

- Come on. Come on!|- What're you doing, man?

All right. All right, we're here.

What restaurant is this?|Where the front door at?

We go in the back.|It's like VIP, you know?

Only cool people go in the back,|like Madonna...

and Dennis Rodman|and Gary Coleman.

It's real controversial stars|coming in this place.

All right.

I'm not doing it.

All we gotta do is knock this off.

We'll get a couple of grand.|I been casing this joint for months.

Look.

You been casing it|and got one picture?

Film is expensive. Look at that.

Shrimp? You on parole and you here|trying to go back for stealing shrimp?

Not shrimps, baby. Prawns.

What the f*** is a prawn?

A prawn is bigger than shrimp. You|ever order a jumbo shrimp cocktail?

And they real big|like they been working out?

Like they on steroids?|That's prawns.

Eating one prawn,|that's like five or six shrimp.

Yeah, right.|I'm going back to the truck.

Fredo did the same thing to Michael|in The Godfather.

"Fredo, don't ever go|against the family.

Don't disrespect me and my father.|Get the f*** out here!"

You're deviating.

Give me a second.

We don't have a second.

Go back to the truck.

I'll finish up here.

Glove.

Ninety seconds. Perfect.

Send down the lift.

Yeah.

I don't think so.

What? What are you talking about?

The first conversation that|we ever had. No f***ing guns!

You listen to me, Jaster.

You send down that f***ing lift!

- F*** you, you freak show!|- What are you doing?

No!

Wait.

Wait!

Crazy motherf***er!

No!

Stop!

...frigid weather conditions|continue to pound the New York area.

You f***ing nuts?

No.

I'm fine.

Thanks for your concern.

- What the hell is wrong with him?|- Hold on.

He's really disrespecting|my speed right now.

He's about to bite me in the ass.|Disrespecting your speed?

Where the hell they get a Doberman?

Where's a nice, slow rottweiler|when you need him?

You cased it for months|and didn't see a 200-pound dog?

They was puppies when I saw them.|All right.

On three, you go right, I'll go left.

F*** that. I go wrong all the time.|I'm going right.

Okay, brother, whatever.

One, two, three, break out.

Gotta hurry.|Yeah, what you want now, huh?

One-on-one.|It's me and you, baby. Me and you.

Well, it can just be you.|It can just be you.

How long does it take to|get these out of development?

Because, you know, I been working|on my little portfolio.

You're lucky I pulled my hamstring.

Y'all would still be chasing me.

You're saying that your partner|was a midget on a skateboard?

Midgets is taking over. They took|over this playground where I live.

They got this whole little|midget underworld.

It's crazy.

They squeezing us out because|they selling everything half-price.

I'm innocent, yo.

Oh, innocent, huh?

Man, if you didn't have a gun,|I'd whup your ass.

Where'd you get this then, huh?|A cocktail party?

- What do you got?|- We got nothing.

Both shot in the back of the head,|execution-style.

Could be a 9 mil or a.38.|I couldn't find any empty shells.

They died about three hours ago,|I would say.

All right, listen up.

My name is Edgar Clenteen.

I'm the chief investigator, Special|Projects Unit, U.S. Treasury Dept.

This is my crime scene.

And you all are contaminating it.

We got two young men here...

executed inside one of|the most secure rooms on earth.

So whatever you find, I don't care|what it is, you bring it to me.

I will not have anyone|f***ing up this investigation.

Now get out of here.

Let Forensics do their work.

Go on. Get out.

I got one.

We ran an AFIS match|on the fingerprint.

John Delano Jaster, a heavy-equipment|operator with two prior felonies.

- Where the hell do I find him?|- He's at Rikers.

- Who's this?|- Well, who is this?

John Jaster, a**hole. You're in|my house. Put my wife on the phone.

Oh, hey, Mr. Jaster.|Your wife stepped out.

She told me to get the phone...

in case this was you|and, you know, it was.

Who are you?

I'm just here fixing the heat. Is|there a number she can reach you at...

or a message or something?|She has been worried sick about you.

- You fix the heat, huh?|- Yeah, that's right.

Let me tell you something.

Lady said you'd never go for it, but|you'd save yourself a lot of grief...

you put in a new thermostat.

Don't worry about my thermostat.|Tell my wife that I'm in Rikers.

Oh, you don't say?

Just tell her to get her ass|down here and get me out.

Don't worry about it, pal.|I'll be sure to tell her.

Jerk-off.

Oh, that was your husband.

He wants you to get him out of jail.

But you've had a difficult day.

Why don't I do it?

Good morning, sir.

I'd better not be wasting my time.

Wooly, what do you got?

Jaster's in a holding cell|with an Alvin Sanders.

Some guy they picked up on a petty|theft heist for stealing shrimp.

- Shrimp?|- Shrimp.

That's pure nerve gas. You can use|that sh*t for weapons and sh*t.

You burned the hairs out my nose.

I see why they arrested you.|They gotta protect the public.

I'm sorry. I suppose|you smell like daffodils.

You should be mad at your ass.|You and your ass should get a divorce.

- I don't feel good.|- Well, that makes two of us.

Did you eat some sh*t on a half shell?|Yeah, grunt. Get it out.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes