-Narrative: Detroit, the Iron City. #1 one auto-maka' in the world, and the #1 gun-maka' in America, even beatin' D.C. and Alexandria, VA. Some say, that when God threw Satan outta' heaven, that he hit Detroit when he landed. I happen to agree.-

-Setting: We are in a small room. In it, is a small desk with a hugely fat man behind it. Wrappers, coke cans, litter, generic trash, papers, cigars, and other unmentionables cover the man, desk, floor, and just about every other square foot of the small room, or office, if you prefer. There are two folding chairs sitting in front of the desk. They are presently empty.-

-Narrative: Oh yeah, Sid, my employa'. Sid was a walkin' trash heap, with disgustin' habits, just ta' list his good points. But locked in that fat smelly head of his, was a fast, shrewd, and cunnin' mind. A quick investment in the late 70's landed Sid well over what would be now over $3 million in weaponty. The fat fuck has been livin' off of intrest and profit since.-

SID: Jersey! Matt! Get your fucking asses in here! Now!

-Narrative: Did I mention he has a volume control problem, along with his constant string of swearin'?-

-Jersey and Matt enter the filthy office, but neither of them are sitting down.-

SID: Get you fucking asses into those gawd-damn chairs! Pronto!

-They sit down, but not before Jersey wipes some trash off of it. Better not to explain what it was, anyhow.-

JERSEY: What can we do fer ya', gov'na'?

SID: Shut up, you motherfuckin' limey piece of shit! I'm doing the gawd-damn talking here! Do you know who just called me!

-Neither Jersey or Matt answer. This is nothing new to them.-

SID: The fucking Syndicate, that's who! Do you want to know why they called me!

-Again, neither of them answer.-

SID: Because they want some fucking guns! And they expect me to break my gawd-damn back getting them! And to top it fucking all, they are cheap bastards, these Syndicate motherfuckers! They start stepping on everybody's fucking businees, and they want concessions! I had to tell them that I had my best two guys on it!

MATT: So what do they want, and what do we do?

-Narrative: The Syndicate was a group of criminals that got togetha', started makin' guilds all over America. Nasty bastaids, too. I heard they tied one guy ta' two vehicles, and literally ripped him apart fer not doin' as they say. Why they needed gun was beyond me. The cops couldn't touch them, the public was terrified of them, and others...-

SID: They want this much, for that much money! Their basically fucking robbing us!

-...we basically did what ever they said with a grin on our face.

JERSEY: So, we'll give them the goods, and get outta dodge. Nothin' to worry.

SID: And don't fuck up this job!

-Narrative: Famous last words, let me tell ya'.-

To Be Continued

03/18/2002

Posted on 03/18/2002
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