We arrive at the meetup point ahead of schedule. Charlie had picked a scrapyard that belonged to a friend of his, which sat well outside city limits. The nearest house was at least a mile away with acres of trees and farmland in between. It wasn’t uncommon to hear random gunshots in the area, as people liked to hunt or target shoot on their own property. If something went down, it was unlikely that the cops would be called, or get there in a timely manner.

He stopped outside the front gate and I hopped out to open it for him, then walked in on foot to look around while he parked the truck. There were rows of stacked up vehicles and old cargo containers, all surrounded a central area where people could park to deliver a vehicle to be scrapped, or so they could get out to scour the wrecks for parts. I didn’t see any position that a sniper could safely hide, at least not without needing a tetanus shot.

There was only one way into the place, through the front. The entire perimeter was surrounded by an eight foot tall chain link fence, which I could easily climb over if need be, and a wall of stacked cars. Charlie approached me, tucking his 9mm into the back of his pants.

“What do you think?”

“I’ve heard of worse spots to make a deal. Only one way out if things go bad, and we’ll be outnumbered.”

“Yeah, well, most of the buyers that I meet here are more agreeable.”

“When is he supposed to get here?”

He checked his watch.

“Sometime in the next twenty minutes. We agreed to meet at twelve.”

I sat on the bumper of an old truck and double checked my 10mm. Made sure a round was chambered, the mag was full. The dot was on.

Ten minutes past the scheduled time, we heard the approaching sound of muffled rap music. Two black vans pulled through the gate and stopped about thirty feet from us, putting themselves between us and the exit.

“Shit…”

That was unfortunate. I’d hoped for a clear path out. I got up and moved next to Charlie. The doors opened and eight men got out. Each of them were dressed as you’d expect from inner city gangs. Hoodies, sweatpants, tank tops, chains. All covered in tattoos, and each sporting a handgun or other weapon tucked into their pants at the appendix. I counted three Glocks, two Taurus, a Stoeger, and one guy who had an AR pistol shoved down his pants. Oh, one of them had something that legally speaking is a handgun, but it wasn’t worth the materials it was made of.

I never could bring myself around to appendix carry. Yes, I understand that it’s the best when it comes to retention, and makes for ease of draw if someone is right on top of you. But by god was it uncomfortable for me. Besides that, I didn’t like the idea of holding my balls hostage.

Seven of them watched me and tried their best to look intimidating. I really had to struggle to not laugh at them. I could see that none of them had a vest under their shirts, or a spare mag. One of them, a shorter guy with a shaved bald head and a teardrop tattoo under his eye, walked toward Charlie.

“Hey, you Charlie?”

“That depends, are you Lil Marky?”

“Fuck right I am! You got our stuff?”

“That also depends, do you have the agreed upon cash?”

He turned around and yelled at one of his goons.

“Hey! Go get the fuckin bag!”

He looked back toward Charlie.

“Now show us the fuckin stuff. We got shit to do.”

“Not so fast. You can see them after I’ve counted the money.”

“Are you calling him a fucking liar?”

One of the goons, a man with ginger hair and a ready fucked up nose, stepped forward. His hand drifted toward the front of his pants, where the shape of a certain cheap piece of shit pistol printed under his shirt.

“No, I just don’t take the time and energy to unload product until I know that I’m getting paid.”

“That’s fucking disrespectful bro! You know what? I think you should give Lil Marky a discount for being such an asshole!”

He stepped even closer.

“That’s not happening.”

His hand started digging beneath his shirt. I could see him start to grab the gun. Marky turned toward him, anger in his eyes.

“Damnit Johnn—”

Ability: Minor Speed activated

The gun cleared his waistband and swung up toward Charlie’s head. I reached out with my left hand and grabbed a hold of the slide, pushing it backward. I heard the faint click as his finger instinctively squeezed the trigger, but with the slide out of battery it couldn’t fire. I pushed further and the round ejected. I ripped the gun free of his hand, and he shouted in pain.

“Ow! Fuck!”

He clutched his hand while I pulled out the magazine and tossed it into the pile of parts nearby. Then I boomeranged his gun to the other side. Six of his compatriots reached for their guns, but mine was out of its holster and aimed toward the nearest before they had a chance to draw.

“Gentlemen, I would recommend against that course of action.”

Charlie whistled.

“Marky, it seems that we are starting off on a very bad foot here. Your brother assured me that you wouldn’t cause any trouble, but here your boy is trying to aim a gun at me and rob me!”

“That’s cause he’s a fuckin dumbass!”

He was staring at the ginger.

“Be that as it may, the agreed upon price has now gone up by ten percent. Consider it a ‘the dumbass tried to draw on me’ fee.”

The ginger was still holding his hand, and I could see that his index finger was bent in a way it shouldn’t have. It had clearly been broken when I took the gun from him.

“God dammit Johnny!”

Marky swung at him, punching the ginger in the jaw and sending him to the ground. He kicked him once, then took a deep breath and turned back to Charlie.

“My brother’s gonna hear about this!”

“Go ahead and tell him! Let him know how one of your own guys fucked this up for you by trying to rip off the arms dealer!”

Marky grabbed the bag from the goon who’d retrieved it and tossed it at Charlie’s feet.

“There’s your fuckin money.”

Charlie broke eye contact to crouch down and open the bag. I still held my gun up, ready to fire the moment they made a bad decision. Charlie began counting.

Ability: Minor Speed deactivated

Stamina: 75/100

“I do believe we agreed on five grand per uzi, four per mac 9, and two grand per draco. That means there should be forty six thousand dollars here. Plus another forty six hundred for the annoyance fee. I count only forty grand here Marky.”

“Fuck…”

I heard the short man swear under his breath.

“So, you didn’t intend on paying in full today?”

“You got it all wrong! The uh… The rest of the money is in the other bag!”

He motioned frantically at the goon to go grab another bag. He did.

“How fortunate.”

He counted out the rest of the money, then stood up and picked up the bags.

“Fifty thousand and six hundred dollars. Good to see that you can actually make good on a deal Marky! I’ll go retrieve your merchandise now.”

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He turned around and walked toward the truck. I stood there and kept watch on them. They shifted uncomfortably, their eyes kept going back to the muzzle of my handgun. Charlie returned with a dolly stacked up with wooden crates. He parked it by Marky.

“As promised, your firearms.”

He backed up, and Marky opened the top box. Inside was an uzi packed in shredded crinkle-cut paper. He pulled the magazine out and looked at it.

“Hey! This fuckin thing ain’t loaded!”

Charlie laughed.

“Ha! The deal never included free ammo buddy. And you really think I’d just hand you a loaded machine gun after what just happened? Please! Our transaction is over.”

I never thought that someone could do such a fine impression of a cartoon character getting mad. I could almost hear the steam coming from his ears. Charlie motioned for me to follow, so I walked backward to keep an eye on them with my gun still in hand. I could see the other six were just waiting for Marky to give the order. We got in the truck.

“Charlie, I heavily recommend that you floor it before they decide that they hate you more than they’re scared of me.”

“Good idea, James.”

The engine roared to life, and he whipped the truck around in reverse, then put the pedal to the metal out the gate.

I finally holsted my gun, and leaned back in the seat.

“Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

“Indeed. Thanks for being there man. Also good fucking job on those reflexes! Holy shit! You hit that dude with that kung fu disarm like it was nothing! You been taking courses?”

“No, just natural skill.”

“Bullshit, where’s your dojo? I wanna sign up! Seriously though, if you hadn’t been there, they might’ve just shot me and taken the guns.”

“Don’t mention it dude, unless it means I get a bonus.”

“Hell yeah you do! How’s a total of seven grand sound to you?”

“Sounds damn good.”

We stopped on the way back to his house for some food, since it was lunchtime. Charlie paid for my burger and fries. About an hour and a half later we were parked in his driveway.

“Thanks again man for helping out.”

He slid a bundle of hundreds over the center console toward me. I didn’t bother counting it before shoving it into my back pocket.

“Easy money, nothing to it. If you need muscle again, all ya gotta do is ask.”

“Bah, I doubt I’ll need it again. I won’t be dealing with Marky again, not after today. I’m sure Geoni will understand. All my other customers are a lot more level headed.”

I climbed out of the truck.

“Yeah yeah, the offer still stands.”

I started walking toward my car, but Charlie called out.

“Oh, forgot to mention, Fred is celebrating his birthday at Lucy’s Bar tomorrow night, he said you’re invited if you wanna come.”

“Sure, you know if he’s covering the tab like last year?”

“That rich fuck? Almost certain of it. Not like you need to worry about your tab with how much you’ve been making recently.”

“Hey, rich men don’t stay rich by paying for their own drinks.”

“True that. See ya later man.”

“Later!”

I stripped off my vest and tossed it into the back of the car, then put my 10mm in the center console. I doubted that they had followed us all this way, so I felt somewhat comfortable in disarming. After all, I still had the Blade and my Shield in the gloves.

I began the drive home, listening to the radio as I went. I barely remembered to turn my phone back on. Twenty missed calls, ten texts, all from my former manager. Eh, fuck em.

About two miles from Charlie’s house I saw a car pulled off to the side of the road, a woman stood beside it waving a blue cloth. I was the only car on the road, so far as I could see, and it looked like she was beckoning for help.

I’ve been called the “Biggest White Knight in the Midwest” before, usually by my friends after I simp over a girl at the bar. It's damn near impossible for me to ignore a girl in need. Of course I pulled over and got out.

“Hey, you okay?”

She jogged toward me, a look of relief on her face. She was tall, with curley brown hair that hung past her shoulders. Her eyes were the deepest blue I had ever seen, and a line of freckles went across her cheeks.

“Thank god someone finally stopped! I’ve been stranded here for an hour!”

“Uh, what’s wrong? Car break down?”

“Sorta… This is so embarrassing… I kinda ran out of gas?”

“Oof, nearest gas station is another five miles.”

“I know, I thought I could make it, even when the car was beeping at me about the fuel level… And I get no signal out here to call for help!”

I pulled out my phone to check, and sure enough there was no signal. I kept a satellite phone and emergency radio in the car for stuff like this.

“I could give you a ride to the gas station, they have a landline phone that you could use.”

“Could you? You’re a lifesaver!”

“Hey, if I was stranded with no gas, I’d hope somebody would come along.”

“If you can get me there I can call my friend. They have gas cans, so they can come help me refuel!”

I got into the car, and she got into the passenger side. It was sunny and hot out, so I immediately cranked up the AC for her.

“Oh god… That feels amazing… Thank you.”

“No problem.”

As we got going she instinctively reached for the radio but stopped short.

“Oh, sorry.”

“What’s up? Wanna pick a station?”

“You’re okay with that? I was about to without even asking.”

“You’re fine. Just please for the love of god no rap. Can’t stand it.”

“I can’t either so you’re safe!”

She fiddled with it until settling on a station that I listened to now and then. They usually played lesser known bands from overseas, a lot of older rock. I didn’t mind it because they rarely played the same song more than once in a given week. I would say that right there is the reason I usually just listen to a podcast or something when driving. I hate hearing the same ten songs on loop all day.

The song that started coming through the speakers was not one that I recognized, yet her face lit up the moment she heard it. Her fingers were beating on the dashboard along with the tune, and when the vocals started she was singing along word for word. All of us know that one friend or family member that always sings along with the radio when you’re trapped in the car with them. I’m sure everyone knows just how torturous that can be.

Her voice was heavenly. If it had been her voice coming through the speakers instead of the actual male singer’s, I think my only question would’ve been “who is this so that I can listen to more?”. When the song ended the host started talking about something so I turned it down, then turned toward her.

“I didn’t recognize the band, but I take it you’re a fan?”

“Yes! That was “Unpublished Critics” by Australian Crawl, they’re one of my all-time favorite bands!”

Her smile was absolutely beaming. It was the sort of sight that you never wanted to stop seeing.

I could see the gas station up ahead. I pulled in and parked right by the door.

“Looks like we’re here. If you go in and talk to the cashier, they should let you use the phone.”

“Thanks again! If it wasn’t for you I might’ve had to walk all this way! I owe you dinner sometime!”

She walked toward the doors, and I pulled back out of the parking lot.

I was three miles away by the time I realized that I hadn’t even gotten her name, or her number.

Shit. How was I supposed to get free dinner?

Oh well, not like I could turn around and go back without seeming like a creeper.

Such is life.