Cranial-oral restrictor impairmentMature

We wrapped our hands in rags, (the tape was apparently hard to find) and set about our strategy. We'd need some better gear, the Outside was dangerous enough under normal circumstances. Running out into the wild blue with it full of psychotic mercenaries looking for the Last Big Break seemed like it warranted bigger guns than a homemade knife and a junky old derringer. I decided that at this point it would be better to gloss over the fact that I came here to kill her. Not as if she was unaware of the contract at this point.

"So who sent you?."

Fuck

I figured she had known I was here to kill her but this was an awkward conversation I'd rather not have. Nothing like killing the last boss to start off the new job.

"Johnson up on the hill. He spends a lot of time at the Babel. Irv owes me a favor if you want to hit him there." I hated myself in a truly spectacular way. This was breaking all the rules. Don't out the employer, don't kill clients, don't make friends. This was going to end badly. She grabbed her pistol and passed me my knife.

"You go in through the front, get Irv in on it, and keep his attention. I'll come around back and get the jump on him." She shifted her coat to hide the menacing bulge on her leg where the hand cannon was holstered. I heard the door lock behind us as we left. Someday I'd have to ask about the extent of her collection and what it entailed. For now I'd just have to settle for helping her kill someone who thought I was out to kill her.

At least now we wouldn't have to pay for our own gear.

The End

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