[ There's nothing new about the unrest in the city. The paranoia. The lies. Murphy's been playing this game since his feet first touched the ground and it's beginning to look like deception is going to be the defining theme of his life. On the bright side, the identity he's been assigned here is a whole lot better than the one he left behind in Sanctum.
He can play this role. Sure. But there's no way in hell he's doing it unarmed.
Now, wandering into the black market of a city in unknown territory is inadvisable under the best circumstances. He'd never do it without a weapon. Unfortunately, that's the catch-22. He's figured out by now that the only place to get a gun is the place he wouldn't want to be without a gun.
So, despite knowing better, he's here. Murphy blends in pretty well with the crowd, on account of his shady disposition. The trouble is, he doesn't know where to begin. The danger is familiar, but everything else about this society is bewildering. There are people everywhere, and he wanders lost and wide-eyed in search of⦠who knows what. What does an arms dealer look like in a society where weapons aren't allowed on display?
Someone shoulder-checks him. Maybe it was aggressive or maybe it was an accident, but that doesn't matter when Murphy's already on-edge. He wheels around to hiss: ]
Watch it, asshole.
[ And only thinks better of it after the words have already left his mouth. ]
wildcard
( Whatever you want! Hit me up at pana or pana#3353 for plotting. )
John Murphy | The 100