danger/u/
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(Setting) O-Kitsune Warehouse, Motor Distric

| > Dusty sat at a table, hastily made a workbench of sorts. A few hand tools laid about as she worked on a Cyan- colored carbine lazily. She knew there were better things to do but she didn't care

>An open can of what looked like beer was within arms reach, as well as an ashtray that looked like it needed to be emptied

> She'd shoot glances to her phone and the open street. The garage door sat wide open, letting her get whatever passed for fresh air in her shared living space


| > Every now and again, she'd look over at a duffle bag just thrown haphazardly on top of what seemed to be some oil drums.

> What a drag, she thought. She'd much rather be out shopping in Glitz or something, not waiting on people to buy what were probably twice-stolen guns. Did they even have serial numbers? Would they even care? Does she?

> She takes a sip of beer and stretches out, yawning loud enough to make it echo around the warehouse. Hopefully nobody outside heard


| >A young woman walks into the warehouse take a look around. She herself is dressed in a grey-white sweatshirt and a pair of black running pants. A holster on her hips carry a suppressed pistol. There's a black bandana is draped across her face and a beanie on her head, leaving only her blue eyes and a lock of blond hair to be seen.

"I'm here for the rifle."

>She talks with a slight slavic accent, just enough to notice but too much as to make the words hard to understand.


| >>688211

> Dusty looks over and gets up off the chair she was on. She sighs and waves to this person as she makes her way to the duffel bag. She quickly unzips it and pulls out some kind of rifle, which she slings over her shoulder. Given her small frame, the gun seemed massive. She returns to her table and motions the girl over

“So, come over here. This is the Dragunov... I think. I don’t know. Marksman rifles aren’t my thing”


| >>688295
"Right, sorry, I'm here for the M4s. If I can inspect all 5, that would be good. I don't need the Dragunov."

>The girl says as she walks over to Dusty.

"Name's Iskra."

>She introduces herself as she pull down the bandana to reveal her face.

(Typo on the last post: mean to write 'Not too much as to make the words hard to understand.'*)


| >>688305

"Oops. Give me a second. I'm Dusty, by the way."

> Dusty takes the rifle back and leans it against the oil drums. She grabs the whole bag itself and comes back, setting it down on the table and unzipping it all the way.


"Here they are. All the same, really"

> The M4s all do look about the same. They're clearly the kind of black market firearm that crop up everywhere.

"I haven't gotten a chance to look at them inside. They smell fine to me, all clean or whatever"


| >>688315
"Mind if I take a peak inside myself?"

>Iskra says, picking up one of the rifles, clearing the chamber and then inspect the gun's outside furniture — sights, grips, rail systems, among others.


| >>688336

“I mean. You already started so it’s not like I’m gonna stop you now. Just don’t lose parts or else I’ll have to machine replacements and I’ve already got enough work to do when i get around to it.”

> Dusty takes another sip from the beer can and sets it down, picking up her own carbine and looking it over. She frowns at it and sets it back down with a thud. The paint looks fresh still.

“Smoke?”

> She pulls out a pack of cigarettes, getting one ready for herself


| >>688407
>Iskra decline the cigarettes.

"I'm not too keen on smoking."

>She says as she start field striping the carbine and check the internals, focusing the most of her attention on the lower reciever and the trigger group, making sure that it can go full-auto and nothing's wrong with the parts.


|


| >>688523

"Suit yourself, you'll live longer."

> Dusty lights up and takes a drag, exhaling away from either of them. Such a rare courtesy for to show to a stranger.

"If you need anything inside fixed up, I might be able to do it. I'm not exactly a gunsmith but it ain't too different from machining for motorcycles"

> The guns internals look fairly mundane; serviceable, but definitely not winning any kind of competitions for precision machining or aesthetics


| >>688787
"Yeah, I would need some new parts for this. Don't worry though, I can get them myself, I won't bother you anymore than I already did"

>Iskra quickly put the rifle back together.

"I'll take this one, try it out and maybe refurbish it. Impulse probably won't mind me using his range."


| >>688930

> Dusty lets out a weird laugh as she puts her cigarette down and stands back up

"GIRL! You're doing me a favor by helping me get rid of at least one of these guns. Do I look like I'm trying to rebuild the Black Dragon Fighting Society? Because I ain't."

> She just leaves that hanging as she walks over to Iskra. She pulls out her credstick as she does so

"So, about price... how's 500 nuyen sound? I'll even thrown in a paint job, if you want"


| >>689093
"I'm good with the 500 nuyen, I prefer black aesthetic, blends in better."

>Iskra says.

"You have any sling or duffle I can take this in?"


| >>689201

“A what???? I don’t get wh—“

> Dusty pauses for a moment and remembers that it’s generally not smart to waltz around with a prominent gun showing. Or selling things without a solid plan of attack

“Right... uhh.... hold up. I think we can cut up some cardboard boxes to make it work. Is like, that okay?”

> She looks around and starts hastily taping up boxes, more or less getting the size of the rifle correct. She works as if this is something she’s done before


| >>689208
"Well, should be better than nothing. My bad, really, should've brought something to put it in."

>Iskra look as Dusty do her thing.


|


|


| >>689234

“Okay, cool. Glad to know you’re not pissed about this because I’m not sure if I wouldn’t be either if I was in your boots.”

> Dusty works as fast as she can, making an odd shaped box to hold the rifle in. She even gives it a good duct tape wrapping to make sure it won’t fall apart in transit

“Oh and uhh... don’t tell people where you got this. I’m not a gun runner and I definitely do not want more cops snooping around here. It was bad enough last time”


| >>689643
"Oh, it's alright. I don't usually mind walking around with a gun, it's just carrying it everywhere without a sling is really a hazzle."

>Iskra says as she load the rifle into the box.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Mind telling me what happened last time that made the cops come looking?"


| >>689724

> Dusty puts the the finishing touches on the box by fully sealing it and proceeds to make an “I don’t know” sound before using her knife to accentuate her talking, waving it around haphazardly

“Fucked up cops just show up, trying to do some investigation. Me and my partner nearly dusted them because they wouldn’t back off either.”

> She finally puts her knife away and hands over the box

“You don’t go and get yourself dusted neither, y’hear?”


| >>689726
>Iskra takes the box.

"Don't worry, I can hold my own... Well, most of the times anyways."

>She inspects the box.

"Also, don't worry about this conversation. What happens here, stays here."


|


| >>689776

"Thanks for the words of confidence. I trust you enough, given you weren't stupid enough to try and pull that canned pistol. I would have had to drop you with this if you reached for it."

> From a leg holster, Dusty pulls out an ancient-looking revolver and gives it a few spins before stowing it back in place

"Oh, I won't mention anything either. If you were like, worried about that kind of thing."


| >>690018
"Well, if had wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have shown myself. Besides, I'm not even dressed for the job."

>Iskra smiles, before putting her mask up to hide her face again.

"Anyways, I guess I might see you around."


|


| >>690019

“Ummm.... yeah... I guess you have a point. Err... bye or whatever.”

> Dusty somewhat confused goes to moving the duffel bag of guns back to the oils drums where they originally were placed. For a small frame, she lifted them like they were nothing

> She goes back to her chair and finished the beer, tossing the can somewhere, clearly not caring about where it landed before finishing the cigarette


| >>690208
>Iskra leaves with the box.


|

Total number of posts: 29, last modified on: Wed Jan 1 00:00:00 1598030155

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