>>5609657>>5610805No one answered.
I felt stares boring into the sides of my head.
I pounded on the door (gate? door.) until the sheet metal rattled and my knuckles bled.
"Hey!" That was meathead number 1.
Nevermind, I'd leave my resume under the door.
I felt a hand on my shoulder begin to swing me around before I could push the clipboard through.
"Who the fuck are you?" Meathead number 2.
I handed him the clipboard. My qualifications were in neat print, my signature in cursive crayon, the pulsating brain at the end done in the red lipstick I never used.
"I'm here for the job application as a gangster. You guys posted a notice on the campus's usenet group?" (And on the all the cork boards in the building and the bulletin board in the Square, but hey, the usenet notice was harder. You had to decrypt the message and play some elaborate game of treasure hunt across the city, it's where I got these grenades.) I said with my best smile.
"Is this a joke? What notice?" Meathead number 1 mad-dogged me, reaching behind his back to pull-
I was quicker, having already pulled the pin on one of my grenades the moment the clipboard left my hands.
"Ah, ah, aaah. Lets not be too HASTY here," I tittered out nervously, holding the mini-bomb aloft with both hands gripping the spoon as I backed up towards a street corner, "wouldn't want to add to the mystery meat problem, would we? Night markets standards really are slippin', haha! OBVIOUSLY, my appointment was tomorrow and I was just mistaken. I'll be back then. Why don't you tell your boss I'll meet them then? Ciao!"
Around the corner I went. I'll try again tomorrow. I still need to earn my meals and pick up my shipment of glycyrrhizin at the piers tonight. The seller said the transporter was being a problem case and holding my package until I payed extra and to take it up with them. I intended to aggressively negotiate.
>[2] Center GateAbsolute last minute intro post to explain how I entered the crew, kinda-sorta. Too late for sidejobs I guess, I was busy. 