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I look down at my gun. "You mind if I keep this?"
"Da, you can keep it," replies Vadim. "Consider it a little gift for the start of our partnership."
I let my gun rest by the front barrel cover and go to shake his hand with my right. "I am honored to have been given this opportunity. Let this night be our bond sealed in blood. Their blood," I say, taking a look at the bodies around us. I leave, taking a handkerchief and clean the rifle of my DNA, before placing it in my car under the spare tire.
I yell at Chen, "Hands behind your head! On the ground now!" I turn my head slightly toward Fife and say, "I got him, check the apartment." before putting my full attention back on Chen.
Chen drops to his knees, hands behind his head. "I'm not resisting, don't shoot!" Fife moves through the apartment, weapon drawn. "Shaw, you need to see this," he calls from the bacl room. "We got cooking equipment, and enough meth to supply half the city." Chen remains on the ground, breathing heavily. "I want my lawyer," he says quietly.
"Yeah, I would too." I cuff Chen before grabbing my radio. "Davis, we got a meth lab up here. Coordinate with building staff and get this floor evacuated to the lobby."
I tie up the guard with the power cable from the desktop tower. I scoop all the 3D printed gun parts into my duffle bag, and then I use one of the laundroamt baskets to ferry back and forth the 3D printers to the car. We should be able to fit 2 or 3 printers at a time easily.
You start ferrying the printers back and forth successfully. As you're putting one of the last printers in the car, you notice a small, metallic square taped to the underside, with a tiny, faint blinking red LED. It appears to be a tracker.
Shit. Stringer rips it off and then checks the other printers for similar looking trackers.
You find the trackers on all the other printers you've moved. You'll have to call in Hakeem and/or Daquan to help out if you want to do this efficiently.
Your words appear to really hit a tone with them. Two of the guys are staring down into the concrete, as if in shame, deep though, or both. "Some of us have gone too far down this path Father. We can't be saved," mutters the guy on the bike. "But if you really want Miguel, come back around here at night."
"I'll be back. And it's never too late for confession." I will leave for dinner and come back when it's dark.
You come back later and sure enough, Miguel is there, with the whole original crew and a couple others. They're smoking cigarettes, kicking rocks.
I make a slow approach, same as last time. "Nice to see you again gentlemen, and Mr. Alvarez. Mind if I borrow a cigarette?"
You slowly regain consciousness, your head throbbing from where you were choked out. A coarse burlap sack covers your head, and you can feel cold concrete beneath you. Your hands are zip-tied behind your back, and the air smells of motor oil and rust. You hear footsteps echoing in what sounds like a large, empty space (definitely a warehouse.) A familiar Russian accent speaks from somewhere in front of you: "Ah, Mr. Barton is awake. Good. We have much to discuss."
"Sure we do. In capturing me, you know you just lost your chance to learn more about Chad Miller's superior. You know that right?"
"Tell me, Mr. Barton, why I should listen to you when you go after one of my assets after I graciously offer you employment?" The bag is pulled out from over your head. You see it is Ivan Antonov you are speaking to. He's in a long coat and a hat, and has a thick beard. He steps away and begins pacing.
I approach Old Man Ping and bow my head in respect before offering a firm but peaceful handshake.
"Mr. Ping. I noticed you didn’t rush to judgment when others might have. I won’t forget that. You’ve been around long enough to know the winds shift quickly. I hope, when the smoke clears, I can return the respect you showed me today, and I will keep your words spoken to me and think on them and how they affect my actions moving forward. They do not fall on deaf ears."
Old Man Ping looks at you for a long moment, his weathered face unreadable. He accepts your handshake with a firm grip, his eyes studying you carefully. "Words are wind, young man. Actions echo through generations." He releases your hand and nods slightly. "You have chosen a dangerous path. I hope your actions provide wiser than they appeared today at the Council." With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you with Uncle Zhen, who has been patiently waiting by his chair.
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