"You got what you were paying us for. Now pay up." A gruff voice says. Why does my head hurt so much? Whats happening? Everything is so blurry. Slowly, things begin to come into focus. I'm kneeling, hands tied behind my back. My skull throbs. I must've been knocked out and dragged here. Three people are standing in front of me, blocking the moon on the horizon.
The one on the left and the one on the right, I recognize. Great Khans. Everyone knows them. Everyone fears them... feared them. I remember a few years ago they were the terrors of the Mojave. Then Bitter Springs happened, and now they've been replaced. The one in the middle wears a smug expression and a checker suit.
The checker suit man looked over at the one to his left, my right that had spoken. "You're crying in the rain, pally." He says, rolling his eyes and looking back at me. The Great Khan to Checker Suit's right, my left speaks. "Guess who's waking up?" He says, looking over at Checker Suit. The Checker Suit guy takes a long puff of his cigar and sighs before tossing it to the ground and stamping it out.
"It's time to cash out." He says, sounding bored. Impatiently the Khan on his right speaks up again. "Will you get it over with?" He says in irritation. Checker Suit holds up a finger, looking down at me. "Maybe Khans kill people without looking 'em in the face. But I ain't a fink. Dig?" He responds snidely, tossing a glance at the Khan.
Looking back at me, Checker Shit(As I will now be referring to him as) reaches into his suit jacket and pulls a Platinum Casino Chip out of it. That's my package I'm supposed to deliver? Honestly, what value even is platinum in a post-apocalyptic wasteland!? No value to me since it's about to get me killed.
"You've made your last delivery, kid." Checker Shit says, putting the chip back in his suit. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene." He continues, now pulling a pistol from his jacket. "From where you're kneeling, must seem like an 18 Karat run of bad luck." He says, pointing the pistol at my forehead. I decide that if i'm gonna die, I might as well spite the Checker Suited Shitlord in front of me. So, I spit on him. He scowls and cocks the hammer of the gun. "Truth is..."
"... The game was rigged from the start."
