Victor walked down the underground city's streets for a couple of minutes before stopping in front of a particular storefront.
It wasn't marked with any obvious signage, but he recognized it as being "Honest Hank's Pawn Shop", aka, the only fencer in town that Victor trusted...mostly.
As Victor entered the establishment, he overheard a business dealing going underway.
"One, two, three...I ain't buying this."
"What?!"
It wasn't going well.
"We've been over this Drig," a heavyset man with a wild beard said with conviction, "a full set of the [Twenty-Four Point Ape's Fist] or I don't buy it. This is only three-fourths! I can't sell this."
"Come on Hank, you know how hard it was to get three of these stupid books? It's not like walking into a guarded vault is easy, especially when fucking Temple Mandrills are involved!," Drig, a medium sized bloodliner with fins in place of ears would be, argued back, "Those things got teeth sharper than wolves, man!"
