Dum Dum takes a hit of whatever drug he's got.
"Before we get to business, want some?" He says, offering me what's probably some black market stimulant.
"No thanks. Don't want to go psycho on you and your friends here."
"Your loss. Coward."
Dum Dum takes another hit from his inhaler as two goons bring in a case.
"Here you go." Dum Dum says, as if we're supposed to take his word.
"We're gonna have to see it."
"Fair enough. Model MT0D12, called the flathead. Totally tricked this thing out. Dynamic thermal camo armor,…(lotta tech nonsense I ain't typing)." This is definitely needed for the job. They even tuned it up for us.
"Sounds good. We'll take it." I tell Dum Dum.
"Alright, let's see your cred." Well here we fucking go.
"Brick got it, it's all paid up."
Finally losing his barely existent cool. The bulky guy at the back of the room slams the door he was holding shut and walks up to me, shoving his iron in my face as his goons pull theirs on Jackie. This must be Royce.
"Brick got it. Do I look like fucking brick to you?" Gotta wait for an opportunity.
"Fuck Brick, let's cut a new deal."
"Now that's good business sense! You got the money?"
"What, no discount?"
"Discount!? Do I look like I'm running a fucking charity to you?" Just need him to look away. One second is all I'll need.
Royce continues. "You know you never did say who sent you. Never did mention who you work for."
"Dexter Deshawn, that's who."
"Dexter fucking Deshawn, the l-" He looked away. I pull my iron out and press it to the bottom of his jaw. Jackie pulls his pistols too to keep the guys behind Royce from butting in.
"Nice and easy there." I say. Now that I think about it…
"Deals off."
And pop goes the Borg boss.