Fierce didn’t like this alley. He didn’t like the overhanging sheets on the clothesline, the smelling boxes of garbage, and the many nocks and crannies that any number of unsavory sort could be hidden in, potential cubbyholes for hobos and rapists. He would likely be able to frighten off anyone who felt the need to molest him, but that still didn’t dispel his uneasiness. He just didn’t like cramped spaces, especially being in one when he was certain he would have to fight.
He spotted the man he needed to talk to at the far end of the alley, talking to a woman wearing dirty clothing and who looks like she hadn’t washed in a while. The woman was looking around nervously and quickly handed the man a small number of bills. The man, a bit of a sneer on his face, counted the bills slowly, shook his head, and gave the woman a bag. She quickly grabbed it and ran off away from Fierce, casting a quick glance behind her as she went. The man notices this skittish behavior and noticed the hulk coming towards him.
“You’re scaring away my customers, Fat Bastard,” the man said to Fierce. “What the hell do you want?”
“I have it from a source that you have something I want.”
“Oh, looking to start a party, big boy? Man, I’ve got everything you need, just prove me with some sum.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the man said, casually unhooking a sheath on his belt and withdrawing a machete, “so, we doing this here?”
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