Your neuroactive, on the other hand, kills even quicker, just on touching the skin, and with certain types of it-like Vexxon-you won't need a gas mask or protective clothing, 'cause you can take a couple of pills before you use it, and they're like an advance antidote." When you release it, you've got to be wearing a gas mask. "Respiractive-they have to breathe it in it kills them seconds after it hits the lungs and spreads through the bloodstream. He focused on Laura and said, "You see my new neon?" Jack had a grainy complexion with gray eyes nearly buried in a puff-adder face. "We need something that will kill fast."ĭominick had learned to project his voice clearly through the cacophony without shouting. Now perhaps it could be used against the Nazis. He said it was one of the chemical weapons that was on the list of items the institute hoped to bring back to 1944 and introduce into the German military arsenal. That's the stuff I want." Stefan had given her the name of the gas. "They're only children having fun," Laura said, standing with Chris in front of the desk. I'm an old friend of his mother's," which was what you were to say to indicate you wanted guns not pizza. Raising her voice to be heard over the din, Laura asked for Fat Jack and said, "I called earlier. He was a former libertarian who now claimed to be an anarchist, and he would not tolerate infringement on his rights-real and imagined-as a free-thinking individual. Fat Jack had spent tens if not hundreds of thousands of dollars fighting them in the courts, paying fines, being sued, countersuing, and he had even spent time in jail for contempt of court. The authorities disapproved of his garish neon displays, especially now that the area around Disneyland was slated for urban renewal. "Neuroactive, respiractive? What's the difference?"įat Jack had been embroiled in a decade-long legal battle with the Anaheim Zoning Commission and the city council. He did not acknowledge the legitimacy of any authority whatsoever, not that of proven institutions, not even that of family. Laura had no great love of big government, whether the left or right, but she had little sympathy with Fat Jack, either. "All right," Laura said, putting one arm around Chris to keep him at her side, "what about the gas on my list?" But I can have it for you late tomorrow, if that's not inconvenient." "I don't have that sort of crap here just as dangerous as explosives.
He did not offer one to Chris, but put the second bar in the side pocket of his sweatpants and began to eat the other.
He moved away from the table, which creaked in relief as his weight was lifted from it, and went to a set of metal shelves where he withdrew a couple of Hershey bars from between boxes of guns, a secret stash. "Oh, sure, I can get you some Vexxon," Fat Jack said. Besides, I'd destroy all my pretty neon too."
#Enter the gungeon discord full
I got a restaurant full of shrieking, snot-faced kids upstairs, and I can't risk blowing them to bits, even if that'd bring more peace to the world. Look, I don't believe in authority, but I'm not totally irresponsible. Got the silencers, too, plenty of 'em." She already knew that he wasn't able to provide her with ammunition, but as he finished his Mars bar, he explained anyway: "Don't stock ammunition or explosives. 38 Super, which has a nine-round magazine, and I've got two of those machined for silencers. "Don't have it," Fat Jack said, "but I can let you have a Colt Commander Mark IV in. Stefan had hoped to obtain a Colt Commander 9mm Parabellum with a nine-round magazine and the barrel machined for a silencer. He was able to provide her with two modified Uzis-"An immensely popular gun since the attempt to kill Reagan," he said-and another. "I put my office at the back of the building, had it specially soundproofed, and I can still hear them out there, shrieking, squealing it's as if I'm just down the hall from hell." "Listen to the little beasts." He spoke to Laura, ignored Chris. He sat in a baronial swivel chair behind a desk sized for him, and he did not get up. "Yes, I was supposed to ask for the pills, too," Laura said. "Well, what we're talking about here is army ordnance, tightly controlled stuff." Fat Jack leaned his backside against the metal worktable in the middle of the room, where he had laid out the Uzis, revolvers, pistol, and silencers.
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