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Staring daggers into your prisoner’s masked face, you relent with a resigned shrug. Fine, you sigh, but he <span class="mu-i">AND</span> his little pals are through being bandits! No more swiping, y’hear? Joe looks somewhat relieved, but not fully-satisfied.
“Lemme get this straight–you want me to convince <span class="mu-i">all</span> of these guys,” He begins, pointing to the pile next to him, “to stop looting? You’re dumber than you look!”
The looter barely gets his words out of his mouth before you bring your <span class="mu-g">FLAMETHROWER</span> back up to his cheek! And he’s gonna be much <span class="mu-i">UGLIER</span> than he looks when you melt his damn face off! It’s a good deal–one he’d better take!
“Alright, Jesus!” He stammers, shying away from the flame on instinct! “Just make sure your little friends here uphold the deal too!”
You give a nod to his guards.
“You da’ boss, sis!” Replies one of the greasers! “If ya’ ask me, though, I think yer’ lettin’ dis’ square off easy!”
Good thing you didn’t ask, you snarl, pointing the flamethrower at the sentry’s immaculately-groomed hair! Looking to Paulie for confirmation, you get a thumb’s up and a shiny grin from the skeleton as he sticks a fresh smoke in his mouth. Guess that’s that, then. Payment time!
“Yea, yea, keep yer’ fuckin’ pants on…” Joe grumbles. “Okay–you see that APC there with the busted tires?”
Following the looter’s gaze, you spot the vehicle Talbot and Pops totaled still spewing smoke into the air. Yea?
“There’s a compartment in the dashboard to hold documents or someshit–my buddy Omar was drivin’ it and was collecting those stupid toys. There oughta’ be a few in there.”
You answer your captive with a frown–he doesn’t sound very convinced.
“Well I can’t really get up and check now, can I?” He snaps, nodding his head towards his still-bound legs. “He had some, alright? Do me a favor an’ break your ugly skull climbin’ into that damn thing!”
Giving his mask one last sizzle, you leave Joe Mama in a writhing, screaming heap without even saying goodbye. A few minutes of climbing in and out of the wreck later, you emerge about <span class="mu-g">10 PONGOS RICHER!</span> Sweet!
“Great, hope you choke on ‘em!” Joe shouts, prompting one of the guards to bash him in the stomach with the butt of his rifle! As the looter groans in pain, the other greaser reapplies the gag and shoots you a friendly thumb’s up. <span class="mu-i">FINALLY</span>!
<span class="mu-b">PASTEBIN UPDATED! PONGO COUNT: 152! +50 FROM PAULIE CREDIT = 202!</span>
>CONTD.
