It was early in the morning when they got to the gun runners Riddlefield hangout, by the look of it, they kept it in pretty good shape, no holes, no crumbling concrete, and it all looked to professional. Stepping out of the taxi, James and Tommy paid the driver, and got out. Once on the side walk Tommy took a moment to get James up to speed on the does and don'ts.
"James, you mind stepping over here for a second" said Tommy, pointing to an alley way.
"Lead the way" said James, still feeling the weight of the day's events on his shoulders"
"Right, first things first, don't talk to anybody, don't try and make light conversation. Just shut the fuck up, answer what is asked, don't go off topic, and the leader's name to everyone is just sir, got it?" it seemed to James that Tommy had maybe memorised this little speech, there were no hiccups in the lines, it was like he knew what to say. Or maybe Tommy had heard it before. They left the alley and went inside the building; on the other side of the main door was a solid metal door with a small ancient plasma screen on it, only six by six inches. A blurred figure was on the other side.
"Welcome to the lansa midnight club, we're not open at this time, please come again later" said the blurred figure.
"Oh really?" said Tommy, James was about to pull him back, afraid he might make a scene. "Somebody told me this place was way above the rest. The figure seemed more interested.
"Sounds like a smart guy, who was he?" it asked.
"Danto Hasa" said Tommy, the door slid open to reveal a very different surrounding, the entire building had been striped and walls torn down, to make room for more weapons, crates were stacked four high in some places, gang members worked quickly, moving guns around, some were cleaning and taking them apart. They walked past some open crates, the entire thing filled with deadly weaponry. They walked up a metal stair case to the second floor, here they were greeted by two guards wearing suits and armed with pistols, they walked up and told them to empty their pockets, James dropped his old cell phone; Tommy took a bit more time removing his knife and other things that James had never seen before, he dropped a phone, the guard picked up
"Nice phone" he said
"Thanks, just got it" replied Tommy, grinning as he slid it into his pocket.
"Since when did you buy Apple?" said James, looking at Tommy
Tommy ignored the inquiry "just shut your mouth and play retard won't you?" he said walking on.
Once that was over, they were pushed into a plain office, inside was yet another guard in a suit, and behind the desk was a young man, with groomed short hair, and what appeared to be a suit that most likely cost more than the building they were in.
"Ah, so you must Tommy, heard about you, I get the feeling you're more the trigger man then the guy making the call, am I right?" his voice was smooth, charismatic, and more or less the exact opposite of what James had expected, obviously the guy in the suit noticed this. "You must be Tommy's brother, nice to meet you, I can tell you're confused so let me explain, the gun runners are a merchant gang, we sell guns, we don't use them, we let grunt's take care of the heavy lifting, the gangs got two sides to it, the gunners and the runners as I call them, your brother, he's a gunner, we use them to take care of things, you on the other hand are a runner, the runners move stuff around, good drivers and know how to keep their head down. A guy like me is the fabric that holds it together, we have dealers for small stuff, but for bigger sales, they send me. So yes, I'm not sir if that's what you're wondering. To the point, things are going downhill fast, we need muscle, we're not cut out for gang wars, we work on the sidelines, supplying both sides, but we are never one of the sides. So we need to fight our way, I'm willing to pay you two a handsome fee for every shipment you take out that's not ours, sir thinks that if the gangs don't have any money, they won't fight, and he's got me trying to snag any small time gangs I can find. So what do you say, deal?" the way he said it, it sounded like they were the gangs last hope, and James needed the money, but working as a freelancer killing people and ambushing shipment's would make him a very easy target, and with no one to back him up, he would be on his own. He was about to reply when Tommy spoke up.