Another late night working, sorting through boxes of neatly packed guns and other ammunition. Even though the packing was meticulous, the boxes were stuffed to the brim, and laying the inventory out in a way thats appealing to your very best customers is something thats important to you. So after contacting a few of those select people, you spend the next few hours fixing up your warehouse that is two parts arms dealer and one part cluttered attic. Part of you questions why you have to do all t his menial labor. But you quickly remember that anyone else would fuck it up royally. And only you can fuck things up royally.
After you get things looking as decent as theyre going to, you shrug off the trenchcoat that you wear to keep the chill that creeps up from the ocean at bay and slip into your zoot jacket. Something snazzy. Though you deal with the Crew on a daily basis, dressing to impress is crucial. Youve been gone for a wihle and besides that, its not like you have any familial ties that keep you in the family through blood. Like a certain nubby someone whose name you wont mention. You have to earn your keep and show them you deserve to be a member.
Finally, everything is ready. Everything except the main event. From behind the first row of rifles, you heave a large box out into the middle of your makeshift showroom and start pulling the boards off. This gun is one of your treasures, one of only three in Midnight city, and you own all of them. There it is, in all its deathly glory. A fully functional portable Gatling gun. Despite youreself, you do a short dance of excitement. This is going to get you so many points with the crew. You cant wait for your large friend to arrive so you can show him his new weapon. One of the many perks of the job, besides the money that is.
You wait for Boxcars just outside the warehouse, leaning on the door with a cigarette in your mouth. Cool, calm exterior, giddy, childlike excitement inside.