Thread: Mercs: Back At the Ranch

The storage room was somehow immaculately organized, unsurprising if you perhaps knew the man who lived there. Literally lived there, he preferred it actually. He had certain..oh..shall we say..connections, that made his job easier. Although it made it hard to utilize said talents when you were putting AK rounds into the side they favored..but hey! Money made the world go round, right? John Margrave was currently settled at his workbench, a Lucky Strike settled on a almost full ashtray as he checked his watch in minor annoyance, his coat and backpack were settled nearby, but in a rare moment he was devoid of them showing a lanky figure in a shirt that looked like it almost was a little too big. Surrounding him were racks of weapons, most of them taken from the enemy , but quite a few of them were from his own collection, personal donations to the cause, as he would say. Problem was always ammo, though, and while he did enjoy himself an AK, they weren't his first choice. Like anything in Russia, there was so much soviet shit about that it was hard finding ammo for much else. So who else but him to make sure everybody had some bullets to shoot things with? Problem was, he couldn't just run out like he did before, he had actual things like responsibility' and 'obligation' and 'a steady paycheck'. Stupid things, if you asked John, but you never asked John. What with the wife wanting something more than the illegal amounts of money he was making before. Some women are so picky..just a year or two of insured safety, was that so much to ask? she said...ah well. The bad part was, he had to rely on other people to supply him and his job WAS supplying. Which meant that he had to rely on idiots like Dimitri, who was late. Again. He was your typical Russian when it came to looks, but he was a fairly shrewd guy. Course, John didn't trust him in Bosnia and he really didn't trust him now. But he was getting money, that was enough to keep him loyal..maybe. Wish it would keep him fucking punctual too. But after fifteen minutes of sitting around doing nothing, John heard the appropriate knock on the door and he walked over with a small sigh. Like always, the Russian had the biggest smile on his face as he gave John a brotherly hug. Ugh..you wanna know a guy that smelled like death? That would be Dimitri. Johnathan! He said in his thick Russian accent. I apologize for taking so long, had a bit of trouble on the way here, those rebels..they..do not like trucks with ammo. John rose a brow at that, but shrugged his shoulders casually. Probably not, especially since it's nothing local.. He mused, glancing over the truck..oh, there were bullet holes..good thing Dimitri was proud of his job and invested into something a little bit more durable than your standard pick-up. So, fifteen, that was it, right? He said, reaching for the wad of bills in his pocket. Oh, if you could buy crates of ammo for fifteen bucks, John would have been out of work, years ago. Dimitri gave him that cocksided smile of his that made John narrow his eyes warily before he settled back with a sigh. ...Go on, out with it. He dreaded. Ah! Well..you see, Johnathan.. He started and John waved his hand somewhat. Let me guess, He started dryly. Because the trip here was so dangerous, you feel it is 'in best of interests' He said in a faux russian accent. 'that you will be paying me extra for next trip?' He continued, as Dimitri grinned wider in agreement. Ah! You do understand! He said cheerfully. Nope, John replied, flicking the fifteen hundred at him as he headed over to the truck. You want more money, bring me more than just ammo, Dimitri frowned at that, but of course he took the money. John was a very strict person when it came to money, but very reliable. It was hard to turn down someone who would consistently give you what they offer without a gun in your face, especially in Russia. But even so, he sighed and moved to help him. Once Dimitri was gone and paid, he checked over the crates in satisfaction, perfect..and it only cost him fifteen hundred bucks to replenish stocks of western ammo. Hell of a deal when you had barely anyone in Russia using this stuff. Now, with this duty done..he had a more important one! Calling his wife and taking a nap. Preferably until dinner, unless something came up!