Before I kill you, I’d like to say something on my own behalf. I’ll tell you that my name is Herb: Frank Herb.
Don’t try to introduce yourself. I already know your name anyway, Mister Speakeasy. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be lying tied-up on your living room floor with a rag shoved down your throat. If I didn’t know who you were, I wouldn’t have taped your mouth shut with duct-tape. By the way: are you having a hard time breathing through all that blood? I didn’t mean to pop you in the nose like that; you kind of forced me. You marks never seem to learn: resistance doesn’t pay. I bet you see that now though.
Given your present situation you may find this difficult to believe, but I’m actually not that terrible of a guy. I’d even offer you a smoke if you didn’t have duct-tape over your mouth. I’m sure you won’t mind if I have one.
Things are going badly enough for you as it is, wouldn’t you say, without asking for more trouble?
Hey. I’m talking to you; would you stop looking over at her? She’s not going to help you. You like her though, huh?
Well, don’t look to her for sympathy Mister Speakeasy: she’s got ice-cubes in her chest.
People like you: always splashing your filth in the face of humanity.
Trenchcoat
Sawed-off shotgun
Pocket-watch
Illegally-modified Toshiba-Bishi InfoWear shades.
Blackmarket
Disguised as a -
Stop squirming around; it’ll all be over soon. But listen to me first, would you? Please?
I work in the Troubleshooting Industry. I’m a Private Contractor.
...and you look like trouble to me...