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09-29-2003, 02:24 PM
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Hobo
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: Feb 2003
: London
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Robby wakes up in the dump in which he lives. He clears the crap of his desk and puts his Sawbones into his belt. he picks up his Lab-kit and some Junk and thrusts that into a backpack. He walks down the stairs past some Sligs injecting things into themselves. He walks out the front door and Steps into the street.

As Robby's walking, he comes to a T- Junction, as he turns to the left, he hears the screech of brakes. He turns around to see a dark car stop at the junction. The window winds down, and before Robby gets a grasp on what's going on, a blitzpacker appears out of the window and launches three shots at a tall glukkon nearby. The Glukkon falls to the floor and the car screeched away, as it passes Robby, it stops suddenly.

Voice: It's that Dumbass Vykker that Owes the boss money!

The door of the car opens and a Big Bro Slig steps out. he is holding a Shotgun in his hands.

BBS: Hey Bitch! Thought you could escape the Mafia?

Robby: What hell are you talking about?

BBS: Get in!

Robby gets in the car and as he looks up he finds himself with a pistol to his head from the Vykker in the front seat.

Vykker: The Godfather's calling this off, but he wants a favour in return, come with us......

The car drives for about 10 minutes and pulls up outside a seedy Hotel.

They walk in, the Vykker with his Pistol still to Robby's head.

They go into a large room at the far end is a grand chair with a shadowy figure in it.

Godfather: So, Juk, thought you could escape me?

Robby opens his mouth to speak but his nudged with the pistol.

Godfather: So, you witnessed the end of Mr. Sil. He owed me money, and when i offered for him to repay the favour, he refused. Now look at him.

The Godfather Shifts about in his seat.

I need you to deliver a package, that's all. Over the other side of town, won't take you five minutes, if you open it however, then you'll have a fate much worse than Mr. Sil's....

Robby takes the package and leaves the room.

Vykker:You'd better report here afterwards. If you don't we'll assume you've gone turncoat. You've got a week buddy, after that and, well, you might want to dig yourself a grave...