* Riven Cole, here are the websites you requested. . .again: associatedpress, helium, and lulu. Sorry that they didn't send the first time. Also, if anyone wants to pm me, I've enabled that in my account now. (Yeah, I thought it was enabled already. Oops!) Any-who, here's more from our favorite Lone Wanderer Gemma. ;) Read on, review (hopefully), and enjoy!
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Two thousand caps! God. . . .I can't believe that asshole asked for that much. It's fucking robbery is what it is. Bastard. You know what? Fuck it! I'm going to steal that damn contract of Charon's. Even with all the trading I've done, I only have one thousand caps to spare. . . .The rest of the money needs to be used for emergency situations (which is like everyday in this brutal wasteland).
Fuck. The only other option Ahzrukhal gave me was snuffing out his competition---literally. That creep. I knew I was right about him; I could feel it in my guts. He wants me in his pocket, to be his damn puppet on a string. Sorry. Not gonna happen dickweed.
Sure, I may not like Greta, but I could never kill her. Yeah, she's terse, mean, obsessive over Carol, territorial, and she's the reason Gob's Moriarty's bitch. . .but, it's not my place to do away with her. (If Gob's ever free that'll be his business.) And, secondly, I don't want her blood on my hands; I've got one too many blood stains soaked into the life lines of my palms already. . . . .
Well, if I want to stay on schedule I've gotta sneak into The Ninth Circle tonight, and lock pick my way into Ahzrukhal's safe. I hope it isn't going to be too hard. I guess, I could always bribe the patrons with booze to ask them where the damn key is? Yeah, like those drunks and jet fiends are gonna give your's truly any real solid intel. Shit bricks. . . .
I wonder? What about that elusive Mr. Crowley? Sure, he strikes me as a total unhinged individual, but I can sense his absolute hatred for Ahzrukhal. (Plus, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?)
I'll see if I can track Crowley down. I'll talk to him and see what he can tell me. . . .Still, I'm sensing that (along with everybody else I've ever met) he's gonna ask me to do him a favor. Here's hoping it's nothing too immoral. . .yeah, right. Well, maybe I can tip toe around the "unsavory" part of his proposition, and do things my way? I can be smooth when I want to be. . .at least, I hope so.
Huh. Fuck. Why all the self doubt all of a sudden? Gemma, you can do this. You'll sweet talk Mr. "Mysterious Nut-bar" Crowley, you'll get Charon's contract, and then retrieve Three Dog's precious satellite. Yeah. . . .I can do this. I can. Perhaps the girl I used to be couldn't, but who I am now can; in fact, I'm beginning to thing that innocent part of me died as soon as I inhaled the stale air of the wastes.
Okay, here I come Ahzrukhal. . .and when I'm done with you, you're going to wish you'd given me that contract for one thousand caps. Oh, well, you made your choice. Now, it's my turn to kick you in the balls for it. . . .or at least kick you in the area where your balls used to be. . . .So, you better be wearing some padding down there. I've got a mean kick. (And I'm not lying, I've kicked Butch enough times to know. Plus, once he actually cried when I hit his "little" tunnel snake. It was glorious). Right. Here I come, and I mean business. Damn skippy I do. Damn skippy.
