On Shaky's Ground/dialogues

(John Marston is in Thieves' Landing and finds Irish in the process of robbing to nuns)

Irish: Up sister. Put them up!

John: Irish, what are you doing?

(Irish whirls around, pointing his gun at John)

Irish: Who the hell are you?

John: Give me that.

(John takes Irish's pistol)

John: I'm your old friend, amnesia.

(John clubs Irish over the head with the handle of the revolver, knocking Irish to the ground)

Irish: Oh, good blimey!

John: 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 befre these two ladies. Now get down there!

(John throws Irish to the ground)

Irish: Ah, Mr. Marston! How are you?

John: 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!

John: 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.

(John allows the two nuns to pass by and leave)

John: Now, Irish, that gattling gun doesn't work. I find that rather upsetting, don't you?

Irish: Heart breaking, which is why I was just comin' to see you, when the drink got the better of me.

(Irish stretches and gives his head a shake)

Irish: Come one. I know where we can find the parts for ya. Mother feckin' Mary!

(John and Irish now walk through Thieves' Landing on their way to the warehouse)

Irish: Whew, that fresh air's got me head spinnin' like a top. Can't be goo d for a fella.

John: Shut up, you lazy drunk, before I stop your head spinnin' with a bullet.

Irish: I resent that, Johnny. I been working like a beaver on your behalf.

John: You been working like a weasel on my behalf. Bushwackin' defenseless ladies of the cloth? You must have been raised on sour milk, Irish?

Irish: What are you talking about? I'm a good Catholic boy.

John: You're a booze-blind coward.

Irish: And you're a hypocrite, Marston. You've robbed just as many innocent folk as me.

John: I tried to only rob those who had more than they deserved.

Irish: Christ, the church has more money than anyboy!

John: Where are we goin', Irish?

Irish: Just to the warehouse he 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 of the office. Hobble tongued fella by the name of Shaky.

John: And he's got the ammunition we need?

Irish: Jesus, stop frettin', will you? I knows about guns front, back and sideways.

John: You're gonna be real familiar with mine if things keep on this way.

(John and Irish approach the warehouse gate)

Irish: This is it, Come on, smiler.

(Irish tries to open the gate but it won't open)

Irish: Damn it! That stutterin' bastard said this would be open! Come on, let's see if we can get in around the back.

John: I'm beginning to lose my patience.

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.

John: This is your last chance, you good-for-nothing shyster. You've already wasted too much of my time.

Irish: Alright, we should be able to get in here. Stick with me and keep quiet.

(John and Irish approach the back door of the office)

Irish: Shaky's made the arrangements and he'll...

(The sounds of someone being beaten are heard)

Irish: Shhhhhhh!

Irish: Oh, shite! Sounds like Shaky's only gone and got himself found out.

(Inside the office, Shaky is tied up and is being interrogated by three men)

Gangster: (Laughs) 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 --

Gangster: Again!

(Another gangster continues punching Shaky)

Irish: Labor relations don't sound like they're exactly... at an all-time high. You sneak in there and get poor Shaky loose. I'll go get us a wagon... Good luck, Marston. He's a good man, that Shaky.

(Irish and John head down the stairs and part ways)

Irish: Alright, work your usual magic. I'll go get the wagon ready.

(John enters the warehouse and kills off the gangsters)

Shaky: P-p-p-p-pl-p-pl-please please, mister. Untie-un-un-un-unt-un-un-un untie me, I'll make it w-w-w-w-worht your while.

(John unties Shaky)

Shaky: I th-th-th-th-th-th-tha-tha-tha-thank you for your kindness, m-m-m-mister. I th-th-th-thought I was a deadman.

John: 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 deadman.

(Shots are fired at the office)

Shaky: This is gonna be one-one-one-one-one helluva fight.

(A shootout breaks loose inside the warehouse)

Shaky: C-c-c-come one, there's only two of us!

Shaky: Who's makin' f-f-fun of Sh-sh-sh-Shaky now?

(After the warehouse as been cleared)

Shaky: Let's head f-f-f-for the door! Follow me!

Shaky: O-o-o-open the door! I g-got you covered!

(John opens the gate and him and Shaky enter the storage yard)

Shaky: Shit! There's abunch more of 'em out by the b-b-b-b-b-by the crates! Come on, partner! Let's f-f-f-finish these sons-a-bitches! Get out here, all of you!

Shaky:Looks like we got m-m-m got most of 'em. Now now n-n-n let's go let's go find the ammunition.

(John and Shaky clear the first area of criminals, and head closer to the ammunition)

Shaky: Look out! More of them bastards!

(John and Shaky kill off all the criminals and head for the ammunition. Irish arrives with the wagon and John loads it up)

Shaky: Now we're even.

Irish: Half-even, Shaky. You still owe me for them morphine pills to calm your nerves, Sh-sh-sh-Shak-k-k-ky!

Shaky: You'll get your half, more you d-d-d-dirty f-f-fuckin' snake!

Irish: I b-b-b-b-b-better!

John: Alright, gentlemen. Let's go.

Shaky: Fu-fu-fu-fuckin' f-fuck!

Irish: Oh, me virgin ears.

Irish: Alright, hop on, I'll get us out of here.

(John and Irish climb aboard the wagon and head out of Thieves' Landing)

Irish: You have fun in there, you and Shaky?

John: I killed alot of men for this damn machine gun of yours.

Irish: I'm sorry I missed all the dramas.

John: You always miss all the drama. There must be cobwebs growin' on that holster of yours.

Irish: Someone's gotta drive the wagon, don't they? Team work, Johnny boy. That's my game. Not just the glory, like you.

(More criminals chase after John and Irish)

Irish: Damn! I knew they wouldn't give up that easy.

(John kills the first group that chased after them)

Irish: Jesus, we really ruffled a few feathers back there!

John: Seems like half of New Austin wants me dead.

(The next group of attackers appear)

Irish: They're not givin' up, are they?

(John kills the criminals)

Irish: I don't like this, Marston. Me heart's beatin' like a bloody drum!

John: Just drive, Irish. You're acting like a school girl.

Irish: Look out! There's on on the bridge up ahead!

(John shoots and kills the man on the bridge)

John: 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.

(More attackers appear)

Irish: Sakes alive! How many are there?

(John eliminates all the attackers and the pair nears MacFarlane's Ranch)

Irish: Helluva team, me and you! We should consider makin' this a more permanent partnership.

John: I think I've about had my fill of liars in this life, partner.

Irish: Well, I think you're ready for Fort Mercer. You got enough ammunition here to take down a small country, fella.

John: I'm gonna need it. Bill Williamson's got himself anarmy.

Irish: So, I guess this is where we part ways, Johnny Marston?

John: Or maybe not, friend. You're gonna be right alongside me when I take on that fort. After all you put me through, it's about time you pulled the 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.

(John dismounts the wagon at MacFarlane's Ranch)

'Irish: Impressive, Marston. We'll have West Dickens' wagon rigged and ready to go soon enough.

(Irish rides away)