All Hail King Isroh

What the fuck do you mean you can’t find him?

Isroh’s demeanor was deadly calm as he stared daggers into the imp before him. The imp squirmed as all the atmosphere seemed to be sucked out of the room the second Isroh’s eyes flashed a dangerous crimson. Isroh’s rage was quiet, yet impactful in terms of making im scary as all hell.

“I mean he’s cut and run. Like from the city. None of our boys can find him, nor the cash.”

Isroh chooses to stare into the imp for a second longer before sitting back in his chair in an uncharacteristic slump. Isroh had been away from the Los Angeles location for a bit, currently trying to establish a stranglehold on Austin, Texas. And it seemed like someone took the opportunity to fuck the king and run with a shitload of cash from his street deals.

Isroh really needed to get back to Texas to continue his conquest of the city’s underworld but he couldn’t just let a thieving coward get away with stealing from the king. If he got away with it, next thing Isroh knew, every street dealer would be denying Isroh his cut. However most of his muscle was currently in Texas. As much as Isroh didn’t like to outsource, seemed he didn’t have too much of a choice.

With a dismissive wave to rid himself of the cowering imp in his office he pulls his phone from his suit pocket.

“Hey. Cythia… I need a guy to kill some fucker. Send me somebody good and tell them to meet me in my office. Have him here by noon tomorrow.” Isroh then hangs up, takes a deep breath before promptly chucking the phone across the room into the back to the door in bottled rage that erupted in a blind fury.

The Chicago weather was rainy, casting dark shadows through his office windows. Small leaned over his desk, staring into a thick leather-bound notebook he found on a recent job. Most of the language didn’t make any sense to him, but then again he was sure he had someone who could decipher this linguistic mess. He raked his fingers through his hair, harsh against his scalp and eventually set the notebook down with an audible slam. ”What do I look like, some kind of language professor?” he grumbled to himself, eyes shifting to the light blue monitor of his desktop cast across the darkness of the room. Wincing to avoid the harsh sting that comes with looking into bright lights in a dark room.

A notification flashed on the screen, catching his attention enough to realize that he had some kind of e-mail. ”Wonder what this is about,” He spoke under his breath, leaning into the glare of the monitor and clicking a few icons until the message came across the screen.  ”Looks like some kind of…job offer. Cool,” his lips curled into a smirk, a kind of excitement working up within him. Well, he needed to make some money anyway.

Life had been slow lately, so he needed something to keep him active. Supernatural work, mercenary or otherwise was something that could do just that. Licking his lips, Samael read over the e-mail once again and contacted the number that was set there for him.

”Yeah this is Samael. Heard you wanted to hire me for something,”

It didn’t even take him a day to reach the city of Angels after talking with the person that wanted to hire him. Something told him they were working through a proxy but then again that was expected. Big enough players didn’t want to let themselves get caught off any guard. He dressed for the occasion, faded jeans with a black leather jacket over a simple white t-shirt. His black glamoured sunglasses hiding his void black eyes. Stepping through the door of what he was told would be their meeting location, he took in the surroundings.

Sights, sounds and smells all mattered but he didn’t look as if he were on edge from a casual glance.

Cynthia, one of Isroh’s many beautiful human secretaries, was seated at the mostly empty bar. The hellhound still did reek of demon activity as most of the managerial workers currently upkeep the place were lower level demons. Demons disguised as mousy men worked on polishing the brilliantly sparkling marble floors, shining the mahogany wood bars and cleaning the bar’s furniture.

However, despite the fact that she was surrounded by creatures that could melt her in a moment and reduce her to bones, Cynthia sat as if she were none the wiser. Her bleached hair pulled up into a messy bun, she cleared the fog from her mug of tea off her cat-eyed glasses. She was wearing a designer pale pink pants suit that accentuated a very slender figure.

Honey brown eyes raise from her mug as a man introduces himself to her. She examines him for a split second before realizing who this was. “Oh, I am Cynthia.” She extracts her phone from her blazer, tapping out a quick text and then tucking it back away. “The boss will be here soon, tying up some loose ends. Drink?” She asked, waving the bartender over.

“Isroh will want to talk to you for a bit, but you’re in luck. He really wants this guy caught.” She laughs, giving a semi-flirty smile to the redheaded hunter. “I haven't seen him this mad in months.”

The blank space didn’t last too long before through a door entered the king, accompanied by 3 huge hulking men. The men were very obviously half-assedly glamoured pit-fiends. Monstrous abominations most often used to guard the pits of hell wielding bidents of molten metal. However they all looked exactly the same. Huge, bald, pale and suited.

Isroh, even if he was quite dwarfed by their sheer mass, somehow radiated he was the overpowering force of the group. His disguise was quite a bit stronger, appearing entirely human to most, even capable of fooling the most perceptive of humans.

“Isroh, Over here!” Cynthia waved in her typically bubbly manner.

The king’s previously obvious anger faded back into his friendly and social self as he adjusted his cufflinks, spotting a small dabbing of blackened demon blood. Wonderful, ruined his nice white shirt. Demon blood was a bitch to remove.

“Hey.” He smiles, giving his secretary a cordial side hug as the bartender slides Isroh an incredibly lavish margarita with extra rim salt. “You my bounty hunter?” He asks, toying with the straw of his drink, folding his soiled sleeve under his other arm to better hide it.

What greeted him was a secretary behind an empty bar. Her humanity was the question, though he didn’t openly speak that question. Instead looking out from behind his thick rimmed sunglasses, considering her with the same suspicion that he considered all strangers. Well, she had an interesting taste in glasses. That much he could tell from her, though that said nothing as much as it could have said something. As he stepped through the door, he was noticed by her and she greeted him as friendly as he expected. Maybe even more so when he thought about it. ”No drink,” He said, not trusting drinks in general but also not trusting himself if he drank. This was supposed to be professional he imagined.

Secretaries were usually chatty, which meant he could get extra information though she told him mostly what he knew. He really wanted this guy caught, though he didn’t have too much on the why. There had to be a reason. Maybe he screwed the boss over or this was some kind of important internal conflict.

That was when four people walked in, though he smelled them before actually saw them. His true sight rune activated as soon as the presence of glamours came, revealing what looked to be three dangerous demons alongside someone whose glamour he could not pierce. Well, it was obvious this guy was a different league than the rest of them.

”That would be me. You’re the person hiring me right? What info you got on the person I’m hunting down?” He kept his terse, serious tone up as he picked out a seat and sat down. Eyeing the man up with measured suspicion.

Isroh takes a deep sip of his rocky margarita and absent mindedly licks away a bit of the over salted rim. For a moment he just seemed a bit muted, as if thinking to himself mid-drink.

“That would in fact be me.” The demon king reaches into his back pocket and retrieves a printed out picture on printer paper of a seemingly normal person. The man looked like the typical slim druggie, short dark auburn hair and eyes the shade of mud. His face hollowed out from drug use and exhaustion. On the other half of the paper was the typical thin, wiry imp, his skin bright white with purple detailing almost like tattoos.

“This is Max, his actual name is Albrex, but he goes by max to pretend to be human.” Isroh slides the paper over as he takes another draw of his drink, letting the alcohol soothe the bubbling rage churning within him for this imp. “You’re in luck, because this job only requires you to do half of what hitmen usually do.”


Cynthia's expression falls into one of mild shock and anger.
“You can’t be serious, why even bother with having the floors polished?”

Isroh didn’t even acknowledge Cynthia’s complaint, although she did look thoroughly irritated with this little revelation. “Albrex, the dirty bastard, decided to stop paying me his cut of the profits on a rather pricey business investment, From what I know he left Los Angeles this morning.” Isroh takes in a breath, remaining calm, however his tone did dip. “He’s currently carrying close to $80,000 of money he owes me, as well as a good amount of supply on him. I don’t really care about the product he has on him, but an $80,000 theft is not the kind of blatant disrespect I can ignore.”

“But why-”

“Have you ever seen game of thrones?” Isroh cuts Cynthia off, directing his focus to Samuel. “There’s a wonderful line. ‘The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword’. If I’m willing to order a man dead, I had better show I am willing to kill him myself. I want him retrieved alive and conscious.” With one more hard drawn of his margarita, he finds himself out of both the drink and the salt on the rim. There was never enough tequila in these things. He looks up just as Cynthia waves her hand at the bartender who immediately passes her a much needed stiff drink.

“If you agree, I am more than willing to discuss payment.”

The man produced a picture with a face that looked quite familiar to him. Those that ran with the supernatural of lower circles tended to look like that after a while. Especially humans picked out for a vampire’s thrall, subsisting mostly on blood instead of food as they should. Even thinking about those poor hollowed outs beings was enough to make his stomach sick. The fact they fought for them was another thing entirely. A turn of the picture however showed this was no victim but a demon that had made a mistake in who they pissed off.

”Pretends a good word for that,” Samael said, picking up the paper and looking it over. He needed to memorize the face, enough to pick it out from a crowd. Not that his memory was bad enough to forget a demons. ”so you don’t want me to kill him? Well that’s new compared to what I normally get hired to do,” He had to admit that much, though he didn’t know why that was the case. From anyone else he would have been hired to kill the demon and get the money back? There had to be more to this.

Still, he was surprised to hear the amount of money the guy cut and ran away with. That wasn’t something most crime bosses would be able to look away from. Hell, it would have ruined your average family. ”Sounds good. I’m willing to agree to what sounds like good work. If you’re willing to pay my fees anyhow,” With chin rested on his palm, he leaned forward and waited to hear from the crime boss.

Isroh pauses for a sip of a new margarita the bartender was sure to hand him almost as soon as the last was empty. Seemed the liquor was cooling Isrohs hot temper for the time being.

“What do you ch-” Cynthia began, however Isroh waves his hand to cut her off.

“$50,000 for him alive and lively. $30,000 if he’s too badly maimed and $20,000 if you accidentally kill him.” Isroh’s voice cools into a far more serious tone, as if this wasn’t a negotiation. He didn’t necessarily care what Samuel would charge for this sort of thing, this was what Isroh was going to pay him. Meanwhile Cythnia’s jaw drops at the absolutely ludicrous amount of money Isroh was willing to throw down for Samuel’s work. She’d been around for Isroh’s other deals, but never any that were this expensive.

“I want him alive to make an example.” Isroh continues. “He cut and run simply because he thought I couldn’t catch him because my back was turned. I don’t care as much about the money as I do about both the blatant disrespect and the future implications of letting a filthy little imp pull a fast one on me. Because it will never be only once.” The absolute calmness Isroh exuded as he was talking about a creature he wouldn’t even spit on had been on fire bled into his demeanor. He seemed almost too calm for the amount of biter rage welling within him. “If he gets away with stealing money, another imp may try to steal supply, start his own group or worse: Kill a human on my turf thinking I had other concerns to deal with.”

This was about control. Isroh had an iron fist choke hold everywhere he ruled. He was a champion of fear and if he was no longer feared, this whole operation could collapse in on itself.

“It’s hard being both omnipresent in your current hold while conquering a new one. To make this deal even more worthwhile if you find the $80,000 he stole while you’re out there, you may keep half of it. And I may keep your contact for any further necessity. Sound good?”

”50,000? Like I didn’t hear you wrong right?” He questioned, barely able to keep his jaw from dropping. When was the last time someone threw that kind of money in his direction? The Wolves of New York case came to mind, though that was a vampire king throwing the money around. After a certain point immortals tended not to care about things like money. If his audacious mansion was to be believed.

The explanation of the large sum being about making an example sounded like it made sense, if he were dealing with a mob boss with too much money. The cambion chewed on his bottom lip, imagining what he could do with that money. Possibilities were flowing through his mind with the most obvious popping out. Living as a criminal had its own downsides, especially since he was sure that the police would arrest him if they knew what he’d done. Cultists with enough connections were able to do many messed up things.

”Well, aren’t you generous. If I’m going to hunt down this demon of yours, I’ll need what information you can give me. It’ll make capturing them alive a little easier,” Weaknesses, methods to incapacitate their kind were all useful things. He didn’t know how much of it would come into play but he hated wading into scenarios he had no idea about.”I don’t make it a habit to disappoint the client, so once I get that information I’ll get to work on capturing your run away imp or whatever,” Samael was never one to let himself fear people; prince, kings or otherwise.  Standing to his feet and slipping his hands into his pockets while making sure to remember all he needed.

“You did hear that right.” Isroh sets the now empty glass down after licking the last bit of salt from the rim. Two margaritas down and Isroh waved off the bartender's silent offer for another. He was rather glad Samael was good with the 50 grand, potentially 90. Last thing he wanted was to find another killer for sale, he doubted he could get another as promising as this one. He'd gone through a lot of dud hit men in his time, gotten plenty of them killed on the job too. However, all the duds had a certain heir to them. Samael wasn't over confident like they were. Those who failed or got killed didn't usually ask questions about the target.

“Equal parts generous and angry.” The king of the damned admits, partially to himself. He spins around in the bar chair to meet Samael’s movements, leaning back against the bar. “ Last I’m aware of he left headed south in a stolen blue F150. My guess is he’s making a dash for the border since I don’t have any locations in Mexico as of yet. I know for a fact he is armed with a pistol of some kind and a semi automatic rifle.”

Isroh pauses for a second as if sizing up, Samael for a split second. His mind jumping to a few conclusions as to what Samael was. He knew he wasn’t human by any means, Isroh new what humans smelt like. However he didn’t act like a full demon. Perhaps a vampire? Either way he’d pry later when he had what he wanted. “Max is a standard, run of the mill imp. Individually they’re pretty weak and easy to kill, but in a pack they can quickly become a problem. My guess is, he’s looking for friends for safety in numbers. Max also has a nasty little gift to camouflage himself pretty well… I usually throw flour on him when he tries it.” Isroh smirks, remembering how recruitment went for Max. Max was just another demon strung out on Nempth who couldn't make the payments anymore, thus he had to resort to selling it to keep up.

“Good luck. I don’t envy you. Tracking down thieving ankle biters sucks.”

Samael was still flabbergasted by the massive amount of money offered to him, pitch black eyes blinking confused behind the thick rimmed sunglasses but not questioning it immediately. Who would turn down that kind of money right? His mind worked through what he could do with that kind of cash and most of them was important for his continued survival. Few places let you live there without some kind of money. If he was being hired by a generous and angry employer, well that didn’t matter either. Demon he was dealing with had a pistol and a semi-automatic weapon, though those two things didn’t sound too dangerous to him. Human made guns could be dangerous to him but nothing that could really kill him. Many people tried to do something like kill him with a gun.

”camouflage huh? Well, that won’t be the first time I’ve dealt with someone who can hide themselves. Won’t be an issue for me, ” He rose from his seat, hands still buried in his pockets and feeling over the hard glass pen settled there. He had a few runes that could get the job done, though the anxiety he felt towards using this magic was what kept him from overusing them. ”if he’s weak like you say, then he should be easy to capture too,”

Would that be the case? He didn’t know but it made him sound impressive. ”and if he thinks his friends can help him out, I’ll just have to abuse them of that notion,” It sounded like he was going to head to Mexico. Well that was interesting but he also didn’t know what the exact location he was going for. Well, maybe he could try a little scrying like Lily showed him once time. ”Unless you’ve got anything else you need me to know I’ll get to work on tracking down your guy,”

Seems Samael was confident in taking on an ambitious imp. In the back of Isroh’s head he knew this should by all means, be an incredibly easy job. Imps by themselves were relatively harmless. A grown man could probably take one imp in a fist fight and win. But they were much like wasps. Where there was one, there could be a hive waiting to swarm someone.

“Don’t get swarmed and don’t underestimate them. Imps can be crafty.” Isroh twirls a straw in his fingers from his empty margarita as he spins around in his chair. The king reclines against the dark wood bar, legs crossed left over right and licks the salt from the straw. Violet eyes scan over the bounty hunter in an incredibly obvious manner as he sucked his teeth for a second.

“Go tend to your imp-killing, bountyman. Then be sure to stop in for a drink.” The devil waves as the secretary simply stands, somewhat mortified at her employer’s antics. She just took the option to deal with other business as Isroh did not seem to need her for the time being.

====

Max… Oh poor Max. The little imp has been more nervous that a whore in church since 6am. It took him an hour or two to wise up and realize driving a stolen truck would be a magnet for unwanted attention. So he’d stopped by a chop shop, trading the thing off for a legitimate black van marked for Best Buy’s Geek squad. Max then gets the wise idea to purchase $12,000 worth of weaponry and managed to pick up a crew of about 12 imps who were looking to go to mexico anyway, even if he wasn’t entirely honest about where the drugs he was carrying were from and why he was so desperate to get the stuff across the border.

Even imps unaffiliated with Isroh’s little mafia knew to steer clear of him. He was branching out fast and most of these imps were high-tailing it to escape getting swallowed up by Isroh’s ever growing empire. Demons who were enthralled into his empire were never able to freely leave again, so the smart ones just chose to flee when the horizon darkend.

Max’s eyes keep darting to the rear view mirror, as if to check for the devil himself. Although he was far less jumpy than he was when he first started this little venture. Perhaps he’d bought himself enough security with the quick vehicle change and the imp-power he was packing. Max chooses to drive for close to 10 hours and checks into a cheap motel with his crew right on the Arizona-California boarder, feeling a bit safer with the sheer distance he’d put on Isroh… Now how to avoid Pheonix?

”I’ll keep that in mind,” Samael noted casually, though he wasn’t worried about a few imps. They might have been a threat to a human but he wasn’t a human. He knew his strength was beyond what even the greatest of athletes could perform, enough to take on most huma combatants so long as they didn’t have the kind of skills seen in movies and comic books. Without wasting his time he stood up and made his exit, already working through how to track the demon and what to do once he got there. Doubtful the imp would have just stay in one location for too long, which meant getting there as fast as possible though luckily he knew someone capable of doing all he needed. Well, hunting down the imp would have been another issue entirely.

Stepping into one of many of Lily’s shop locations, he was greeted with the dark haired woman behind the counter. Likely brewing up another of her strange but useful herbal concoctions. ”I wonder what you might want from me now,” her question was straight forward really but he didn’t expect any less.

”Little help on a job. Small time but sounds like it’s going to give a big pay out,” He expression shifted but only slightly.

”Guessed that much but why come to me?”

”Like usual I can offer you the usual fee. I know you sell your magical services for the right price,” That caused her expression to change to mild annoyance.

Lily pushed off from the counter and brushed the mortar and pestel aside. ”Alright, what do you need me to do.” A paper landed on the counter.

”I need an imp track down. I know you have scrying magic that can get the job done,” She eyed the picture for a few seconds, and then nodded.

That was how he got the information and the exact location. Something that was more important than just vague information. Leading the cambion on the road through the desert on his motorcycle, hoping the runes would keep him from running out before reaching the destination. Infinite anything was impossible but he could increase the tank capacity, now that was possible. The heat was no problem either, because his infernal flesh was made to withstand way hotter than just low hundreds heat.

What was leading him was a charm that would react when close, preempted within a kind of internal tug that lead him in the right direction. Where that lead him was a small motel on the edge of the California and Arizona border. Kicking the stand down he made sure his sunglasses were in place, keeping his eyes from showing with the minor glamour around the rim. The air reeked of demon, that much he could tell and was leading him to where he should be going along with the small pendant hanging around his neck. Where it lead him to was a door; Room 108.

Taking in a deep breath he slammed the heel of his foot against the door. Popping what he assumed was the lock, dented in the wood of the door and caused it to slam into the wall. ”Lookin for an Albrex. Told he stole some money from the wrong people and I need to fix that,”

The inside of the hotel room was already a disaster before carnage personified burst in the door. Behind closed doors the imps saw no reason to camouflage themselves and were having a grand party, helping themselves to Nempthe. What was worse than a swarm of imps? A swarm of methed out imps. Max however, refrained from the shenanigans, still dealing with the nerves. There was no way he was going to make it all the way to Mexico. This was not an if he got caught, it was when.

He paced in the back bedroom, alone, worrying his claws with his fingers as he tried to think. However that was interrupted by a loud slam at the door. Albrex didn’t even wait around to hear what the voice was demanding, it took all he had not to piss himself in fear as his form suddenly disappeared from the room.

Meanwhile, the remaining 12 imps started like a colony of rats. Then within seconds half were reaching for weapons, while the other half beat their leathery wings, going straight for the intruder, stingers poised like angry scorpions to attempt to paralyze.

Meanwhile, Albrex worked on sneaking out the back, invisible to the van. He hoped this $12,000 investment was worth it.

The imp hauls a canvas sheet off a shoddy, home made, belt-fed gatling gun mounted into the floor of the Geek Squad van. With a light prayer this was going to work, he throws the doors to the van open and points the massive gun in the direction of the motel door… and sprays a torrent of bullets wildly.

“Eat shit!” Albrex cackles as the belt continues sending a hail of bullets ripping through the hotel room, even mowing down some of his own kind in the process, but hey, as long as he was hitting Sammy, what did he care. ”Murder, murder, murder! Kill Kill Kill!” The imp howls into the night over the streaking trails of bullets as the smoke from the gun grew thick around him.

Seemed luck was favoring the imp!

The imps looked about how he expected but taller than most human media depicted them. The room reeked of filth to his sharp senses, though his mind was already working through what broke out before him. There was little time for him to react and each milisecond was taken advantage of. ”Looks like you guys want to do this the hard way,” Samael stepped forward, reaching out for one of the stingers and grasping it  tightly. Using that momentum he twisted his body and brought the imp around with a sharp throw that either knocked some down or threw their trajectories off. One or two of the stingers scraped from the invisible barrier, but it wasn’t enough to break through leaving him poison free for now.

That didn’t stop the others with their guns raising, instead leaping and rolling to the side and kicking one of the two beds up. Fortifying it with shadows was enough to keep it from being shredded by the machine gun fire that followed. Well, it held up enough for him to keep his bearings.  That still left him with the ones that had tried to sting him, though they were trying to avoid their friends bullets too. Sounded like they were stupid enough to sample the stolen goods.

He reached into his jacket and let off a few silver tipped rounds into the nearest imps. Catching some through their arms and others through their chest, releasing torrents of blood that splattered across the carpet and walls. What made them really hurt was what seemed to be lightning emanating from where the shots hit, leaving their targets falling to the ground and spasming.

That automatic fire was mostly what kept him from hearing the other sound.  Something warming up to fire and rip through the wall and the barrier that had been formed over him. Without even thinking he pressed himself down to the ground and wrapped the densest shadows he could in a cocoon around his body. That sound went on for a couple of moments, pain wracking his body though the concept of pain meant that he wasn’t dead. Well that was good wasn’t it.

Soon enough whatever gun that was firing would have to run out of ammo and he could work from there. Breaking apart the shadow barrier once the cacophony of bullets silenced, tendrils of shadows rising around with him and lashing out at any of the imps that remained around him. Sharp like blades meant to cut through weapons with ease and perhaps limbs if they were stupid enough to stand still. His attention turned towards the van with a gatling gun sticking out the back end of it.

”Not very smart of you short stop,” He grumbled under his breath, feeling the smokey shadow hands digging the bullets stuck within his flesh. It sucked being tough enough to have things stick rather than shooting through you. ”I was told not to kill you but the rest of your idiots weren’t given such a stay of execution,” With that the shadows around him rose and took the form of wolves, slavering dark maws wide as they lunged upon those remaining within the ruined room to tear them to pieces. He however extended his wings, giving a powerful flap of the midnight wings to propel himself through the air and landing before the van with eyes brimming with malice. His sunglasses were smashed. ”so how do you want to do this? I can make you survive without your legs,”

Albrex, although smart for an imp, was still not immune to the mental deficiencies of his species. He ripped through an entire belt of ammunition non-stop. Unfortunately for Max’s swarm, the ones that hadn’t been peppered with holes from his turret or Samuel’s guns, were immediately blindered like an angry imp smoothie as soon as Samuel decided to make his move.

Max didn’t expect Samuel to survive 200 rounds, however, he also didn’t want to travel with an unloaded gatling gun. He hurries to pick up a new belt, struggling slightly under the weight and working on getting the end fed into the intake.

He was still scrambling to get the gun reloaded as Samuel approached. Even as the winged man landed near the van, he was still working on the reload.

“You think I’m just gonna surrender peacefully?” He asks, not even stopping despite Samuel being right in front of the van. “Think about this, I surrender, you take me back to that slave driving mad man, and I get fucked. However… I don’t surrender and MAYBE, I live. Would you surrender to you?” This, although quite dumb, was quite complex thought for an imp.

“Look, I wanna get this thing reloaded and fill ya full of holes… I also wanna get the fuck out of here, cash or not. How about we split the cash and go to Mexico… Trust me, you do too much work for Isroh, he’ll own you.” The imp warns, the name Isroh burnt like venom onto his tongue.

Albrex smacks a part of the gun home and moves to turn the crank and is met with a loud BANG… and no impact onto Samuel…. Followed by several more with no projectiles. And today, Albrex learned to never buy expensive things from other imps. They’d sold the gun with a belt with real rounds… and the rest were blanks.

“Ah, fuck me.” Albrex groans, looking at the hitman with a vaguely sick expression. It was over and he knew it. He was screwed. “Fine. Can we at least get a beer first?” He groans, lighting a cigarette and extending to box for the hit man sent to catch him.