The smell of gunpowder and cigar smoke filled the air of a small apartment in Chinatown. Scraps of metal and rusted firearm parts lined the kitchen counter top and filled the sink. Bottles of varying color, size, and fullness lay sprinkled atop any other flat surface. Lights flickered and flies danced around a trash bin long forgotten and festering. Black burns dotted the vinyl kitchen floors, likely due to lit powder and accidental discharges of homemade ammunition.

At the center of it all, a large makeshift workbench sat. The vinyl floor of the kitchen had begun to buckle and bend from the mass of the workbench shifting around during use. Atop it sat a vice, an ammunition punch, and various hammers and screwdrivers. The table itself looked as though various pieces of scrap planks were simply placed atop one another, then bolted and banded together.

Gish sat atop a stool at the workbench, lightly hammering the sights of an old pistol back into place.

"How much longer man?"

A thuggish looking human paced back and forth in the already cramped kitchen. Black toque, black hoodie, and jeans. He looked the part of your typical thug ready to rob his next liquor store.

[color=lightgreen]"Listen son, I don't show up at your job and knock the dicks out of your mouth while you're working, so pipe down eh?"[/color]

He had just about enough of the brat. Kid would probably be dead within a week, so no need for pleasantries on the hope for repeat business. Thinks he's tough enough to go toe to toe with anyone on the block, won't get him far.

Gish gave the sidearm a last look over and checked the sights.

[color=lightgreen]'Good enough'[/color] he thought. He placed the gun down on the workbench.

[color=lightgreen]"Alright son, she's good to put down any git what gets in your way eh? New firing pin, some thorough cleaning, and a little sight adjustment. She's as good as she'll ever get given the age of the piece."[/color]

The thug stepped forward and grabbed the gun. He looked it over but only briefly, it wouldn't surprise Gish if the kid even knew what a firing pin was. 

[color=lightgreen]"That'll be 80 for all that."[/color] Gish cracked a small grin.

The thug reached into his hoodie pocket and lay 4 syringes filled with red liquid on the workbench.

Gish's golden eyes narrowed and his grin quickly faded.

[color=lightgreen]"Whuh the 'ell is dat there mate?!"[/color] Gish stood up with his hands raised and knife like teeth bearing as he spoke.

"It's Demon's Blood. 100$ worth. That's a good deal for you man." The thug looked confused.

[color=lightgreen]"Me knows dats Demon's Blood ya git! Me work gets paid for in dosh, and dat there ain't dosh!"[/color]

Gish had become irate and his inner cockney began to shine through. His decaying heart raced at the thought of this nobody trying to pass off drugs to him as payment when he had previously asked for cash.

[color=lightgreen]"If I was being in da drug business I wouldn't be fixing burnahs son!".[/color]

The thug took a step back and furrowed his brow. He took his free hand and pointed towards his own chest.

"I work for The Bloodbloom Syndicate man, you should take my offer before I make a call."

Gish let out a loud laugh, bending his back and projecting his voice towards the ceiling. As he reeled back and sat upright he let one arm rest on the workbench and the other slid into his coat.

[color=lightgreen]"Ooh's yah boss den son?"[/color]

The thug's expression went blank for a moment, Gish knew he had already caught him in a lie.

"Malcolm" he blurted.

Gish grinned again.

[color=lightgreen]"Listen son, put da dosh on da coun'er now before I call dat fit looking Nyxvira bird and 'ave 'er mates open yah up like a tin of beans!"[/color]

The thug paused for a moment and looked at Gish. His eyes drawn to his teeth and hypnotic eyes. Gish wasn't sure if the kid had believed his bluff about Nyxvira or simply knew his own bluff and 'Malcolm' had been called. The thug came forward and swapped the drugs for a few bills then stormed out the front door of the apartment.

Gish quickly grabbed the money from the workbench and counted it. 80$ in all. He stuffed the money underneath his hat and grabbed a bottle of bleach that had been sitting on the workbench. He poured some into his mouth and swashed it around for a bit, before spitting it onto the stained floor.

Had to keep his teeth nice and white.