It was quiet when I walked into the Whiskey Cottage, a bar that had Jimmy the Llama as a partner. If anywhere, this was the place to find information on the man's moves. It was still all a blur to me. Who the legs really was? Why me? What's the beef between the dame's father and Jimmy the Llama? I tipped my fedora slightly backwards as I walked to the greaseball behind the counter.
"Llama around?" I asked, taking a $50 out and waving it in front of the italiano.
"Who's he? Never heard of 'm" the greaseball answered. I pulled another $50 out and waved it around. It still wasn't enough by the looks of the man. I pulled a hundred more and then things started to happen. The bartender grabbed the money and wrote something on a piece of paper while I lit up a cigarette. I took the paper as the bartender slid it across the counter and then left with a smug smile on my face. If the greaseball only knew the grants were counterfeit.
As I got to my car, I finally got the chance to look at the paper. Interesting... The Italian bartender had written down the address of an old fish processing plant near the Triad's harbor. It would be suicide to go there seen by anyone. The Japs had me on their kill list and I didn't yet want to become fish food. The best was now to get to the bottom of this beef and get myself armed, so I left for the redneck district. There I could get even heavy artillery as long as I showed them a KKK greeting. It was useful to be aware of things like these. Otherwise I would be in trouble every time I went somewhere in the town. I even had gotten myself a fake Freemason's ring if I ever would have beef with the court. So I drove off towards the redneck district, even more questions popping in my head
Yes it's crappy, but I'm trying my best... *Whimper*
Last edited by Black Knight of Keno; 03-29-2007 at 11:13 AM.