Would you rather live in peace as Mr. Nobody, die ripe, old and smellin' slightly of urine? Or go down for all times in a glaze of glory, smellin' near like posies, 'thout seein' your thirtieth?

The city of dreams. I'd gladly kick the balls off the idiot who thought that one up.

V: You do know that grenade's gonna pop one of these days, right? I avoided, but someone else...
Ozob: I know, I know. We will die someday. Least when I do, there'll be fireworks.

V: You Sergei?
Sergei: Nice of you to ask. Lately I feel there is neon sign over my head that says "Sergei who fuck with Tiger Claws."

Corpo or not, without chrome we all look like the same idiotic, bullet-riddled sacks of meat.