On solid ground.
Metropolis, the worlds collide.
Paid to party.
We need apples.
Seeds planted between the cracks in the sidewalk can grow into thriving plants that can disassemble a Sig Sauer handgun in under a minute.
Hell of a town.
I’m gonna punch through that wall and bite out God’s throat and everyone will fucking love me for it.
"I think it's a tattoo parlor, Gregory."
"Okay, everybody act natural."
Good, you're here. We've been waiting all night.