Yeah, but don't call me Beacon.
From Create Your Own Story
I smiled a little bit and took his handshake. "Yeah, but don't call me Beacon."
He raised his eyebrows slightly. "Why not? Don't like the name?" "Don't like the name?!", I snapped back. "I fucking hate the name! Beacon this, Beacon that... I'm sick of it!" "I see... and I should call you what?", he said back. Hmm. Beacon was the only name anyone had ever called me. I had no clue what else he could call me. "Fine, call me Beacon. But don't say it all the time." "Beacon. Right. Not all the time. Come, we will get away from these pesky flies," he said, throwing an ugly look back to the boy we left standing by the ship.
He threw an arm around my shoulder and we walked up the road to the Tourism Bureau building, overlooking the Carribean Sea. I was glad it wasn't too far, because the mild tropical warmth had his tuned-for-the-cold Russian blood in panic mode; his BO was in full effect. It smelled like pencil shavings.
"Now we talk," he said, letting me go and reaching into his pocket. "I give you five thousand now and the rest when you bring me Mr. Fakirov... in a reasonable state of compliance." He raised his eyebrows at me expectantly and I nodded my understanding. "But is important you do bring him to me, yes?"
| Status | ||
| Health | 100 | Equipment: |
| MP | 0 | |
| Level | 0 | |
