Our test run concluded this week and my oh my was it a helluva conclusion. After everyone came around to removing some Russian mafia thugs, we resumed our bar crawl.
After gaining some valuable intelligence from Linny, we were forced to continue drinking. What a shame…
I sampled the local beverages and other offerings, but waved off from engaging with our target. I figures Beeper Bob would rather play up his fame with the ladies by himself. What a player.
Bob seals the deal and we’re out.
I slam my whiskey, turn to the door, and its dark. I feel my feet shuffling towards the door, so I know its not the coke or at least I think its not.
Call in a favor from my pal, Jeffery Downten, at Night City HQ that fucker owes me for covering for him on his gambling debts, now its his turn to pay up.
This is bad and I mean really, really bad. There is no way, they’ve uncovered dirt on me. I relay the news and suggest we follow Jeff’s suggestion to lay low and come up with a plan. Ok, I’ve got an idea.
This psychopath tries to end me while driving, because I’m not doing enough? Wheel, seatbelt, wall. Fuck him.
On the other side of town, near a lonely diner Bob’s gal nukes our pay day. What the fuck guys! We don’t need money, you selfish pricks.
Post ringing in my ears, I stumble out of the wreckage and call my boy.
Thanks Devin, I appreciated your work as a GM. Nicely done sir!