I was nervous, checking the rear seat for eleventh time. Licked my dry lips and asked. "Are you sure you won't get heat by taking that many guns?"
Waldo closed the door and fastened the seatbelt with a jaunty tune. "Please, that is less than a week's worth. We got a smelter on speed dial that we call when we run out of space."
Looked back to the two bags bursting with guns, ammo and ….It that a mine?! "How in the name of all that is holy, how do you have MINES?"
-"That is one of the smaller ones." He checked his bulletproof vest. "The larger ones are a bitch to move around."
-"Why no one hears about this on the news?"
At this, his jovial demeanor turned foul, like biting a sour grape. "The same reason the Boss wanted to hide my report. Politics. No one wants to hear they live hip deep in crime." At this he gave me a nod. "Or worse."
Now it was my turn to bite the sour grape. "Figures."
I shifted the gear and drove us to an abandoned train station by the docks. We have been mucking around for a couple of hours. I took point under a veil. Waldo would leapfrog from cover to cover, like a tactical gnome. Shotgun tooting, kevlar suited gnome. I had my blowgun at the ready.
Rummaged among my quiver and grimaced. None of my sticks is stealthy. Specially not those. I had decided that Thunderous Noise wasn't to be messed around, hence why those were in a ziploc bag inside the quiver. Large Cold? Took out the blue L stick and loaded my blowgun.
Came around a container and I keeled over.
Waldo's steps inched closer and he offered me a bottle of water. "Something gives me the jiives."
I stood up and tried to advance, but a hand held me back. I looked puzzled to my accomplice and he shook his head. With his hand, be made a circular motion.
We retreated slowly, this time I placed my hand on his shoulder and tried to veil both of us. Tried being the operative word, the quality was shoddy at best.
Tactical gnome walked around the large container, shotgun low to the ground. We saw something and both froze.
At 3 yards there was a bunch of vacant eyed, blue lipped, bald bunch of guys. 7, no, 8.
Three close to us, the other five were spread out at twenty yards.
I aimed my blowgun.
Waldo leveled the boomstick.
And all hell broke loose.