(..) Good night, sir. -Hit it, sweetheart. -Sir, aye, aye, sir. Right shoulder. That is not your daddy's shotgun, Cowboy. Left shoulder. Move the rifle around your head, not your head around the rifle. Port. Four inches from your chest, Pyle. (..)

(..) - "we're gonna kill her." - Did it work? PUMPKIN: Fucking way, it works. That's what I'm talking about! Knucklehead walks into a bank with a telephone... not a pistol, not a shotgun... a fucking phone. Cleans the place out. They don't even lift a fucking finger. Did they hurt the little girl? (..)

(..) for the next days. I want you to check it every hour, because last-minute moves pop up every minute, such as we're shotgunning it in three hours. Mmm-hmm. Three hours. I'll let you know when I'm briefed. This was a private family compound (..)