“Felix. You really wanna rethink that message you’re sending, cause everything’s fine here. I know you’re gonna be reasonable. You gonna ask for, let’s say, half your original price. Then we gonna walk away happy. You send that mayday message, maybe we don’t have such a happy ending, you picking up what I’m setting down?”
“You will not shoot me,” Felix says. “You will never get your weapons. These are the new G-series, fresh from Talos. Cueball cannot be happy if you come back empty-handed.” He looks so sure he’s won, Blue wants to rip his face off. Can’t stand it.
Screw the plan.
“Your guns ain’t nothing to me or to Cueball you little idiot.” Blue knocks the table clear with the gun, shattering glasses and rattling the lamp. Felix ducks. She stands over him, rifle now cradled in the crook of her elbow, fingers caressing the trigger. “They don’t call me Crazy Blue for nothing. I give exactly zero. Take your fingers off your communicator or I’ll fry you.”
He calls her bluff. Presses his finger to his palm for send.
“I warned you,” she says, turns the tri-function flip, which gives a satisfying click.
“I warned you,” he replies, and she becomes aware that she’s been made. She turns her head slowly to take in the six moronic beater-types who have just walked in through the garage door entrance, all packing heat and standing menacingly around her in a semi-circle. One guy has a shotgun, standing right behind her. Overkill.
She turns back to see Felix’s stupid smirking mug. He did say his people were on the way, she really should have seen this coming.
“Are you scared yet, Miss Blue?”
“You wish.”
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