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"And Gus...fuck I don't think anyone can fill that role."


"He's not that evil. Or badass. Or smart. Or business-savvy."

"Well I don't know."

"Gus is an unattainable goal. So I guess me and Sigma better start cooking."

"I'll get in touch with my contacts."

"We obviously have to hide this all from Knife."

"Of course."

"And...just about everyone else."

"I'm bored with this game."

"Clearly we must find a way to liven things up."

"Hamas!" I fire my gun in the air.

"I was thinking more along the lines of setting up the lab."

I lower my guns. "Hamas?"

"Meth. Then Hamas."


"So, what's this about a lab then?"

I pull a New Years Resolution out of a hat.
"Murder RaN- no, that won't end well." I toss the paper into a bin. "Start a forest fire- I'm not allowed near and fire-starting gear any more." I toss that one aside too. "Seduce Knife while cosplaying as Terez- was I drunk when I wrote these? Oh, who cares. This one is at least somewhat doable."
I walk off to prepare.

I bump into Trilby, dropping a few flasks I was busy carrying.


"Hey... you, uh... y'dropped something there. What is that? Those flasks? Cool. Didn't know you were an avid chemist."

"You could say that. Nice uh...Ben Nye."

"Yeah... well, I'm just going to... get something. It's... a surprise."
I slowly move away from Salt.
"So, I'll uh... be getting... my surprise. And you'll... be doing some chemistry. And neither of us will ask the other to elaborate further. Because... we really don't want to know, do we?"

"Well...Trilby, you know people who enjoy certain...kicks in life don't you? Perhaps we could set up some sort of dealing system later?"

"Are... are you asking me to become a prostitute?"


"I mean uh...I'm asking you to distribute methamphetamine."

"Oh. I'd... I'd much prefer the other thing..." I cough awkwardly. "I have to go."
I quickly back away from Salt.


"So, what's happening Salt?" I ask after sneaking up behind him.

I jump in surprise, dropping a few more flasks.

"Aw fuck. Hey Ha-I mean Knife. Just trying to uh...set up a lab."

"What kind of lab?" I ask, picking up one of the flasks.


"Oh? What are you making?"

"...Crystal meth."

I barge into the conversation, still afflicted with tendril arm syndrome.

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