I just want you to do is meet some people and find out whatever you can about them.

What type of people?

Dangerous, dirty, tattooed, uncivilized. Your kind of people.

Hold up. My kind of people would say. "Kiss my ass, Scarface!"

See, this is usually the point where I'd take out my gun, press it to your temple and ask you very politely to do what I want. But you're not the type who's afraid of death. So I guess this puts us in a quandary, doesn't it?

So I guess we better call this a day, then?

Not just yet. You ever watch lions at the zoo? You can always tell which ones were captured in the wild by the look in their eyes. The wildcat. See, he remembers running across the plains, the thrill of the hunt. Four hundred pounds of killing fury locked in a box. But after a while their eyes start to glaze over, and you can tell their soul has died. The same thing happens to a man. Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary is no joke. They'll take a wild man like you and throw him in solitary just for the fun of it. No more mountains to board, no more oceans to surf. Just a six by eight cell with no windows, and only a bucket to shit in. But you can avoid all that by doing this one small favor for me.

You don't have shit on me!

I notice you have three X's tattooed on the back of your neck. I think that's rather appropriate seeing as you're looking at three strikes. Grand theft auto, reckless endangerment, and that little bridge stunt of yours? Makes you three-time loser. Maybe you should call yourself "Triple X". But if you do want, I'll make all your recent criminal transgressions go away and let you get back to that pathetic excuse of a life.

You think maybe I should be like you? Get all strut up with stars and stripes? I bet that flag is a real comfort every time you look in the mirror.

A small price I paid for putting foot to ass for my country. So, what's it going to be, Triple X? You want to get on a plane? Or is "Kiss my ass, Scarface" your final answer?