アイリッシュのミッション：
Irish: Up sister. Put them up.
Marston: Irish, what are you doing?
Irish: Who the hell are you?
Marston: Give me that. I'm your old friend, amnesia.
[Irish gets pistol-whipped.]
Irish: Oh good, blimey!
Marston: And I've come to tell you, if you ever pretend to forget my name or
your debt to me again, I'll make sure you reach heaven before these
two ladies. Now get down there.
Irish: Ah, Mr. Marston. How are you?
Marston: Ashamed. Ashamed to know you. What the hell's wrong with you, robbing
these gentlewomen and ladies of the Lord?
Irish: I thought they was doxies.
Marston: Ladies, I'm sorry about this man, he's unfortunately lost his mind to
the demon drink. At least I hope he has, and he wasn't this stupid all
along. So ah... Please excuse us. Now, Irish, that gatling gun doesn't
work, I find that rather upsetting, don't you?
Irish: Heartbreaking, which is why I was just coming to see you when the drink
got the better of me. Come on. I know where we can find the parts for
ya. Mother feckin' Mary!
[They start walking.]
Irish: Whew, that fresh air's got me head spinnin' like a top. Can't be good
for a fella.
Marston: Shut up, you lazy drunk, before I stop your head spinnin' with a
bullet.
Irish: I resent that, Johnny. I been workin' like a beaver on your behalf.
Marston: You been workin' like a weasel on my behalf. Bushwhackin' defenseless
ladies of the cloth? You must have been raised on sour milk, Irish.
Irish: What are you talkin' about? I'm a good Catholic boy.
Marston: You're a booze-blind coward.
Irish: And you're a hypocrite, Marston. You've robbed just as many innocent
folks as me.
Marston: I tried to rob only those who had more than they deserved.
Irish: Christ, the church has more money than everybody.
Marston: Where are we goin', Irish?
Irish: Just to the warehouse here in Thieves' Landing. I'm tellin' you, Johnny
boy, it's all set up. We're meetin' this pal of mine at the back door
to the office. Hobble-tongued fella by the name of Shaky.
Marston: And he's got the ammunition we need?
Irish: Jesus, stop frettin', will you? I knows about guns front, back and
sideways.
Marston: You're going to be real familiar with mine if things keep on this way.
Irish: Alright, we're here. Stay close. Damn it! That stutterin' bastard said
this would be open. Come on, let's see if we can get in around the back.
[They start for the backdoor.]
Irish: I'm startin' to think you're soft on me, Johnny boy. Can't even sneeze
these days without you bein' there to catch the drips.
Marston: This is your last chance, you good-for-nothing shyster. You've already
wasted too much of my time.
Irish: Keep your eyes open. Shaky's alright, but I don't trust that gang of
fools he runs with. Shaky's made the arrangements and he'll...
[They hear someone being beaten behind the door.]
Irish: Shhhhhhhh! Oh shite. Sounds like Shaky's only gone and got himself
found out.
[They eavesdrop. Shaky's tied to a chair, bruised and battered.]
Man: Alright, now all we have to do is find out who you work with. Ya hear me,
Shaky, you wretched fucking son of a whore!
Shaky: Suck my--
Man: Again.
[The beatings continue.]
Irish: Labor relations don't sound like they're exactly...at an all-time high.
You sneak in and get poor Shaky loose. I'll go get the wagon... Good
luck, Marston. He's a good man, that Shaky.
[Marston goes in, kills the enemies, and rescues Shaky.]
Shaky: I th-th-th-tha-tha-tha-tha-thank you for your kindness, mister. I
th-th-thought I wa- a dead man.
Marston: My kindness is only as good as the bullets you can fetch up for me and
your friend Irish. Let me down and you'll be a dead man.
[Someone shoots into their room.]
Shaky: This is gonna be one-one-one-one-one helluva fight. Alright, L-L-L-Let's
get out of here while I still g-got the chance.
[Marston takes it out.]
Shaky: Let's head f-f-f-for the door! Follow me! O-o-open the door! I g-got you
covered! Alright, come on. I'll show you where the am-a-a-ammunition
is.
[They finally kill the enemies and load Irish's wagon with ammo.]
Shaky: Now we're even.
Irish: Half-even, Shaky. You still owe me for them morphine pills to calm your
nerves, Shh-shh-shh-Shaky.
Shaky: You'll get your half, more you d-d-d-dirty f-f-fucking snake!
Irish: B-b-b-b-better!
Marston: Alright, gentlemen. Let's go.
Shaky: Fu-Fu-Fu-Fuckin' fuck.
Irish: Oh, my virgin ears. Alright, hop on. I'll get us out of here.
[They pile into the wagon.]
Irish: Did you have fun in there, you and Shaky?
Marston: I killed a lot of men for this damn machine gun of yours.
Irish: I'm sorry I missed all the dramas.
Marston: You always miss all of the drama. There must be cobwebs growin' on
that holster of yours.
Irish: Someone's gotta drive the wagon, don't they? Teamwork, Johnny boy.
That's the game. Not just the glory, like you. Shite! They're comin'
after us!
[John starts slaying the pursuing bandits.]
Irish: Jesus, we really ruffled a few feathers back there.
Marston: Seems half of New Austin wants me dead.
Irish: Christ, more sons-a-bitches! I don't know if I can take much more of
this. They're shootin' right at me.
Marston: You're a real cold-blooded killer, Irish.
Irish: I don't like this, Marston. My heart's beatin' like a bloody drum. Look
out! There's one on the bridge ahead!
Marston: Any time you want to shoot somebody, Irish, please feel free.
Irish: Sakes alive! How many are there? I'm warnin' ya, back the hell down!
They're not givin' up, are they?
Marston: I'm tellin' you, Irish. That machine gun had better work after all
this.
Irish: Don't you worry. You won't find a finer piece of artillery west of
Dublin. Well, I think you're ready for Fort Mercer. You got enough
ammunition here to take down a small country, fella.
Marston: I'm gonna need it. Bill Williamson's got himself an army.
Irish: So, I guess this is where we part ways, Johnny Marston?
Marston: Or maybe not, friend. You're going to be right alongside me when I
take that fort. After all you've put me through, it's time you pulled
the damn trigger for once. Show me what a big, bad killer you really
are.
Irish: Er, yes. Of course. What am I thinkin'? Don't worry, you can count on
me. I just hope I don't steal all your glory. Wouldn't be right or
proper.
[Marston gets out at MacFarlane's Ranch.]
Irish: Impressive, Marston. We'll have West Dickens' wagon rigged and ready to
go soon enough.