It was no secret as to the sheer volume of pirates and mercenaries that came through Footfall nor their ever present need for armaments. Jerricho fit the niche of illegal arms dealing like a puzzle piece and that suited him just fine. Calling him famous would be an overstatement, but his reputation for reliability and quality merchandise had quickly spread b word of mouth. He’d even needed to hire a few employees to deal with the ever increasing number of orders. Jerricho actually preferred dealing with pirates and the like. More organized criminals were too demanding and petty thugs were often stupid enough to think they could pull one over on him. The worst were legitimate customers who asked annoying questions like “is it safe?” and “is that dried blood on the receiver?” However, sometimes he needed a bit of extra coin to afford new stocks and currently he was stuck dealing with a pair of those aforementioned idiot-variety thugs.

“C’mon mate can’t we work something out? We’ll pay you half now and--”
[color=f26522]"No."[/color]
“But you di--”
[color=f26522]“No.”[/color]

The more he looked at the two men the more irritated he was. The one flapping his gums trying to bargain had his blue dyed hair up in a mohawk with the sides of his head shaved. Jerricho wondered if he could peel his eyebrow off like masking tape by pulling on one of those ridiculous piercings and became more inclined to try with each passing second. The other man was mercifully quiet but still looked moronic with those spiked goggles on his forehead.

Jerricho sighed and pointed to the door of his shop.
[color=f26522]“What does the sign say?”[/color]
“Uh... open?”
[color=f26522]“The other one you tenth wit. It says “no bargaining” right there on the door. So why are you wasting my time? Actually, I don’t care why. Pay or leave.”[/color]

Mohawk’s face twisted into a furious snarl as he leaned over the counter and began to shout in Jerricho’s face. Emphasis on began. The moment his spittle touched the arms dealer a shot rang out. The man let out a strangled gurgle and fell back, hitting the floor with a thump, a fist-sized hole in his gut leaking both blood and shredded bits of intestine. His partner jumped and went for a laslock but received an instant lobotomy for his trouble. Jerricho sighed and holstered his scatter pistol, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a pain to clean up. He tried to be professional and orderly, he really did, but it seemed half the settlement was hell bent on preventing that.

[color=f26522]“What a fucking mess,”[/color] he grumbled as he turned to open the closet behind the counter and retrieved a mop, bucket, and some plus size trash bags ready to go, [color=f26522]“and after I just had the floor scrubbed yesterday.”[/color]

Jerricho started piling the near headless corpse into one of the bags before he turned at the sound of a wet cough from the other body. He met the man’s eyes and saw the indescribable pain and fear they held. Jerricho stood, making his way over to the survivor and ended his life in a swift angled stomp that wrenched his neck to the side with a wet snap. As he dragged the first bag out the front door, the arms dealer couldn't help but wonder where all these idiots came from and why they felt so inclined to enter his shop.