Both of you rush to the truck and jump in, and Big Samson peels out of the parking lot. As you’re driving away, the clerk hobbles out of the store after you, still firing shots as you go.
<‘UCKING ‘IGGERS! ‘UCK! AAGGGHH!!
<Shit, dat crazy ass cracka still goin! Floor it!
You cower in the truckbed to avoid the shots as the car swerves out onto the stroad.
With the sounds of gunshots fading, Jamal gets to work on finishing patching up Low Life’s hand. Or, more accurately, the nub where it once was.
Don’t worry mane. You gon get through it. Maybe even get a badass pirate hook afterwards n shiet.
<A pirate hook? Don’t sound too bad.
<Nigga, you could get a regular nanobot hand too though.
Okay, I know dat, but a pirate hook’s just cooler. Just is.
<Nanobots is cool too! Ain’t havin’ your hand be anythin’ you fuckin’ want sicker than a rusty hook?
Yeah, nanobots are awesome!
It’s just not raw.
Low Life nods, still gritting his teeth from the pain.
<Not raw.
<Whatever mane. Anyway, is we still going to that burger place? I’m hungry.
^Dat’s a bit close. We ain’t want the police on our asses more than we already got. But if Low Life wants to…
<I ain’t give a shit where I am right now.
^’Sfair.
You look around. Right now you can probably influence their decision on where to go.
What do you do?
