PC name: David Tennantscreen221.jpg


Middle-Knuckle Pub then Dowling Warehouse

Date and time: Saturday January 8, 1921, Est 2 am

It was another cold Rochester evening as I was walking into George MacAuley’s bar, where I was to complete our transaction for two of my prime functioning sleeve guns. As I entered, George and Elliot seemed to be discussing their business, but hopefully nothing of my concern.

As I reached them, it occurred to me, could they have seen Murphy? Men in their business usually pride themselves on their connections. I handed the weapons to George, who was pleased by the arrival of these weapons, at which point I asked, “Have you seen Donovan Murphy?”

George shrugged replying, “I haven’t seen him in about a week.” This wasn’t helpful to me, so I blatantly explained the situation hoping it would yield a better answer. I explained that I may have been the one who sold the weapon that he killed the police with and wanted the loose end tied up.
George, now having a better understanding of the stakes, replied by letting me know that if Donovan were to return, he would hold him for me so that I could “take care of it”.

On second thought, however, I really didn’t want to be near the actual potential death of a man. It would feel… wrong. Maybe… George could… YES!
I turned back to George correcting my request, that George and those he has connections to may be more suited for this than I was, or am.
George looked at Elliot and then back to me and said he would do it for $420. I was still for a moment before realizing how this could actually work. I proposed a trade; I make several sleeve guns for him and his men in exchange for the favor of taking out Donovan Murphy. Elliot said to George that they could get more out of this as I was and still am desperate.

I counter offered another proposal (which had I not thought of something the other day would have made me regret even word I said in this moment) that instead of several sleeve guns, I would give them fewer sleeve guns, but with the addition of another weapon, a unique weapon.

They pondered this and accepted the final proposal and George said, “Let’s celebrate with a drink!” I watched Elliot go behind the bar to obtain the alcohol. I felt like there was something off about him, the way he carries himself is almost like that of a policeman. Then again, a gang’s muscle man is like the mob police, regulating, protecting, maybe not for the right reasons, but similar. Just my paranoia I guess.

All of a sudden, a sweating adolescent came into the bar and quickly approached George. He made mention of others violating a warehouse. George moved to the exit the bar slightly drunk. I reluctantly followed him as to make sure he lived to see my deed done.

George, Elliot, myself, and one of George’s men headed to the warehouse. My anxiety grew as I was regretting my decision to accompany them. Fortunately, I had come prepared. My paranoia convinced me something might go wrong so I armed myself with 2 sleeve guns, one on each of my forearms.

As we approached the warehouse, my nerves became more and more unsettled. What if I had to shoot someone? Could I handle it? Would George doubt my resolve if I didn’t? But if I did help him with this, maybe it would give him reason to renegotiate the trade. Maybe.

We arrived at the warehouse, where we saw a Dirigible and four shadowed figures. As the other drew their weapons, I felt the adrenaline fill in my veins. AS they began to fire, each Bullet that was fired made my heart jolt in fear. I knew I wouldn’t get out of this without doing something. I straightened my arms, raised them at the ready, and the sidearms on each of my forearms extended to firing position.

I pulled the trigger on one they the other. Time seemed to slow. I couldn’t imagine killing one of them, so I took my aim to the Dirigible. I felt as though I watched each bullet I fired hit the vehicle with a loud and compromising clang. I counted the bullets as they left each gun. Five. Five. Six. Six. Seven. Seven. Eight. Eight. Nine. Almost out. Nine. Ten. TEN. Click. Click.

Time stabilized. I retracted my weapons. I felt myself for any injuries as the adrenaline would have otherwise stopped any feeling in my limbs. Legs. Arms. Hands. Fingers. Yes. Good. Not injured. I looked to George, Elliot, and their other man expecting some scolding for not shooting the trespassers, but George was more concerned with Elliot’s weapon jamming.

Wait. Jamming? Was that one of my sleeve guns? They never jam. I test the first one for weeks to make sure of it. And I know Elliot has use it before. Did he know the trespassers?

George told that after the fight whatever new weapon I proposed, it would need to have hefty fire power. And soon.

I walked back to my shop thinking about what to bring him as the idea I had in mind did not account for destroying vehicles like the Dirigible.
An explosive launcher was a thought that had crossed my mind, but would it be something I could make?

I needed to get back to the drawing board fast. My time is short and the demand is needed. So much for renegotiation.