It was the eve of the attack and Mental Iron was busy examining the pistols on the table. He smiled as he cleaned up one of his favorite pistols with a piece of towel soaked in a little bowl of fresh lubricating oil.
He could not hide his feelings as he drew Slate Punggy’s attention, he had invited him to help him out on the operation, “Hey, Punggy my main man, check out this pistol. It is god damn swell, my friend Hittop Texas bought it for me, and he was able to beat the immigration security smartly though with some dollars to get it down to me. It is the best I have in my collections of pistols you know. It has several bullets!” he laughed out loud as he raised it for Punggy to take a look at it.
“Where does he live in the US?” Punggy demanded calmly.
“Texas,” replied MI.
“How come his name is Hittop Texas, come on These guys just give bush shit names to themselves, never want to be identified easily, good for the mafias!” Punggy put on a frowning smile.
