Negotiations

After spending the day gathering intel on the job, there's not much left to do but secure the contract. The Peanut Butter King manages the enclave from the office of the garage area. From that vantage point, he can oversee all repair work. The garage itself appears much as it did before the crash. You hear the squeal of air compressor powered impact wrenches and the whine of pneumatic lifts amidst the discussions among the mechanics. You can smell the motor oil in the air. The only exception is that the outside walls have been fortified with boards and scrap metal from junked cars.

As you enter the garage, you are greeted by a pair of PB King's personal guard, the Teddy Bears. Strong silent types in riot gear wielding bats with assault rifles slung over their shoulders. By all accounts, they prefer using the bats. They wordlessly direct you to the waiting area.

The room could easily be mistaken for a shrine to Elvis. Movie posters and statues of the performer and his movies adorn the walls. The speakers in the room are currently playing, Are You Lonesome Tonight. PB King is a busy man and you wait over an hour for an audience with him. Through the windows to his office, you can see PB King in his bright red, sequined jumpsuit speaking to several of his lieutenants: Duke of Earl, King of the Road, King Creole, King Nothing, and Killer Queen. The room has been sound proofed, so only indecipherable murmurs escape. Clearly, PB King is not happy about whatever information he is receiving and is reading them the riot act.

He snaps his fingers at one of them and they all file out the door. PB King follows them but stops at the door to his office. The group is silent as it passes you. PB King clicks his tongue and points at you, You the cats who come looking for the job? Cool man... Why don't y'all come right in. He makes an awkward karate pose as he points to his chairs with both hands.

PB King smirks at the awkward entrance as he walks around his desk. Alright, Youngblood, to what do I owe the honor of the presence of such a busy man?Sway Tracker
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RED|___ Expenses ___|-----
-----|_ 100% Mark-Up _|-----
-----|___ Hazard Pay __|-----
-----|_____ Labor ____|-----
-----|____ At Value ___|-----
-----|_ Buyer's Market _|BLACK
-----|___ As a Favor __|-----

Run follows Loan Shark to the negotiations but stands silently, staring at the memorabilia. " This guy has some serious dough." He thinks to himself.

I think you both no why I'm here. My contacts tell my that a shipments gone missing, and your going to need some takers to recover it. He leaves a pregnant pause before continuing Id like to offer the services of my network of talent. We have skilled pickets who are used to gathering in the Loss. I doubt you'd find Talent better then what I can offer.

PB King leans back in his chair and listens intently to Shark's pitch. Good news travels fast. As a matter of fact, I am looking for a bit of outside help. Of course, claiming talent is one thing and making good on those claims is somethin very different, man. Are you the kind of cat that talks a big game or can you and your boys deliver? As he questions your qualifications, an intensity washes over his face. Despite his relaxed demeanor, you can tell that he is analyzing every aspect of your response.

As a result of Ham-Bone's drinks, smokes, and funny stories from the bowling circuit before the Crash (but mostly the drinks), PB's boys loosen up a bit and start telling their own stories.

Naw, it's not that bad. PB King is actually a pretty cool, old dude. Just make sure you mind your P's and Q's. He's at the top of the food chain here. He made this place and guided us through the Crash. We all owe our lives to him. Treat him with the respect he deserves and you never have to see his bad side. R-E-S-P...uh, E...C? You know what I'm saying. The rest of the guys laugh at him and clink glasses.

Back in the negotiations room... Let me level with you King. I run a tight network, I know we can get your lost supplies. I've built it up over time like you built New Graceland. I'd like to think I've modelled my management style after yours; there's no better model after all. You see my people and I built up out relationships on respect. Respect for each other, respect for new Graceland and respect for you. So when I say we can go out there and bring back supplies you know we're not going to be skimming stuff of the top, we're going to give our all to go get it and bring it all back.

The intense scrutiny in his eyes fades and he smiles. Well, Thank you, thank you very much. Flattery will get you everywhere, Young blood. Alright, so hears the deal, like you said we lost a shipment to ol' Bacon's Scrap Sanctuary. Well, we've lost communications with it... And Bacon's for that matter. Don't really know where we stand. Right now my boys are doing some other things for me and I'd rather not pull them off. But it's a numbers game, if your price point is too high, I'll probably have to go with a different crew or pull my boys off their projects.Got a lot of mouths to feed in New Graceland Sway Tracker
-----|____ Status ____|-----
-----|___ Expenses ___|-----
RED|_ 100% Mark-Up _|-----
-----|___ Hazard Pay __|BLACK
-----|_____ Labor ____|-----
-----|____ At Value ___|-----
-----|_ Buyer's Market _|-----
-----|___ As a Favor __|-----

Claire waited by the van while the crew negotiated with Elvis impersonator. She sat on the curb next to Theodore watching the mechanics work like shit had never hit the fan. The dog began grazing on grass sprouting between the cracks in the sidewalk, she smiled slightly and pet him in his wide back. "Hey, buddy. They'll be back soon."

The threat of being undercut was real with the barbaric three roaming around. They seem like they'd do anything for dirt cheap. Claire wanted to expand her traits beyond just scavenging. She wanted to discuss setting the WM3 back, hopefully weeding them out.

Claire wanted to be useful to the group while they secured the job. She patted Teddy on the back and headed off to scout out the West Memphis 3. The three have been in and out of bars, not really having a home. Those rough brutes don't deserve home, in her opinion. The dog stayed behind at the van while Claire went to the bar.

Drinking wasn't a common pass time for her, though she does enjoy a cool light beer while watching the game. There were no more games, maybe reruns are out there. Claire waited for some time, quietly and to herself. It took some time, but the WM3 eventually showed up. They were hard to miss, making a scene and drinking like rednecks. She noticed the three's arrogance didn't particularly get along with the others, PB King's guys specifically.

As the men drank more, the became less aware. Claire used this as an opportunity to stealthily sneak over while asking for another Miller Light. She saw that one of the three had left his knife on the bar's counter top. Using slight of hand, the knife was swipe fairly easy and dropping it at a PB King's crew's table was easy with the distracting three around. Not wanting to stick around, she left her beer and hoped things would play out favourably for her own crew.

The boys from the West Memphis 3 laugh and carouse. Drinking and harassing some of the other patrons. Most of their antics are tolerated because they bring in a fair amount of Bounty and most folks just generally avoid Takers with reputations like that.

Unfortunately, the WM3 has mistaken this avoidance and permissiveness for entitlement and dominance. What the fuck?! Where the fuck is Miriam?! The youngest of the group, Runt, flips over the table and sends bottles careening around the room.

Son, I'm going to need you to take it down a notch. Maybe, I can give you a hand. Who is Miriam? A calm, yet grizzled voice pierces the building tension. A scruffy man well into his 50s stands from his table. His leather duster sways with his steps as he approaches the boy. In one smooth motion, he brushes open the coat to reveal his Desert Eagle, clicks open the holster and rests his wrist on the grip.

Son? Son!? Fuck you, Old Fart! I want my knif.... Runt's outburst is cut short as the old man deftly draws his gun and pistol whips the boy. With one well-placed strike, the boy slumps to the ground unconscious.

Much better... Now can I help the rest of you boys find Miriam or do you two also have something clever to say?

A cheeky smirk crosses Loan's face I happen to know that outside of your own men, my network is the only crew that will be available over the next few weeks. As I said, I respect you and New Graceland, so I don't want to rack you over the coals. But you know what they say, good services aren't cheap. I'll bring the pickers and some muscle and we can get the shipment back. I'll even go try and talk to Bacon if it will ease your nerves.

PB King raises his hands in a mock defensive position. I agree, man. Still y'all can't squeeze blood from a turnip. Takes a lot to keep this place hummin' and there's a lot of mouths to feed. Depending on what's going on out there, we may be in for some lean times ahead.

He rubs his chin in thought, his pinky (and ostentatious ring) extended. A thought visibly crosses his mind and he snaps his fingers and points at Shark. You strike me as a tight knit crew. Lookin' out for each other and such. I may not be able to offer much more, but I've been saving one of these for a rainy day. Probably do you more good than me.

He unlocks a drawer in his desk and pulls out a small plastic case. He snaps it open and turns it to reveal a syringe of Supressin-K7864, the Blight vaccine.Sway Tracker
-----|____ Status ____|-----
-----|___ Expenses ___|-----
-----|_ 100% Mark-Up _|-----
RED|___ Hazard Pay __|-----
-----|_____ Labor ____|BLACK
-----|____ At Value ___|-----
-----|_ Buyer's Market _|-----
-----|___ As a Favor __|-----

"Of course, Mr King, hiring us you get the baddest crew not only in this city but the state. See this bat here? Holds the record for the furthest hit in baseball history. Of course, they stopped recording records not long after I hit that one out the park. Now imagine what it could do to those Hound Dogs that took your shipment."

Please, Mr. King was my daddy. PB King stands up and walks over to Run. He puts his arm over his shoulders and leans in. I didn't want to say nothin' but, since you brung it up, I was watchin that game. I grew up a Cards fan and you single-handedly beat us that day. Still, you knocked the stuffing out of that thing.

Listen, I get what you're sayin but risk is in the eye of the beholder. He sticks his thumb out, A) No one really knows what's out there, could be a cake walk, could be certain death...then his index finger, B) What you consider a risk is up to you, ain't it? Is facing a Casualty risky? Sure, but can a man like Run handle it. I hope so or why are we even talkin? Question is... He twists his hand into a shooting gun gesture at Loan Shark, What are you guys willing to do for what I'm offerin'?Sway Tracker
-----|____ Status ____|-----
-----|___ Expenses ___|-----
-----|_ 100% Mark-Up _|-----
RED|___ Hazard Pay __|-----
-----|_____ Labor ____|BLACK
-----|____ At Value ___|-----
-----|_ Buyer's Market _|-----
-----|___ As a Favor __|-----

PB King stands up and he walks around the desk. He grabs your hand and gives it a firm squeeze. Alright, Shark, talk is cheap and time is money. You boys get over there, figure out what's what, bring back that shipment if you can, it means a lot to New Graceland, but make sure at least one of you gets back here. You're my eyes out there.

He opens the door and walks out into the waiting area with Shark. He executes a mock knife hand strike in Run's general direction, Hey man, I'm betting on you guys this time. You lost me a lot of money that day against the Cards, I'm betting on y'all this time. I don't like losing

"We won't let you down, Mr...uh, PB," he nods at The King and follows Shark.

Before setting out, Run pays a visit to his folks, letting them knows he's heading out for a job. They know what he does and how dangerous it is, but he's the only thing keeping them from starvation right now.