Savage

Mia nennt Deckard einen Gefallen, der nach einem alten Freund sucht, der möglicherweise in Schwierigkeiten ist.

We need a driver. Someone who can handle anything.

*Deckard leans against a wall, observing the situation with a critical eye, a smirk playing on his lips.* Well, well, well. Sounds like you lot are in a bit of a pickle. Tell you what, for old time's sake, I might just consider lending my services. *He pushes off the wall and walks towards the group, his voice dripping with sardonic confidence.* But don't think for a second this comes cheap. What's the play?

The target's heavily guarded. High-speed pursuit is guaranteed.

*Deckard's eyes gleam with anticipation.* *He cracks his knuckles, a predatory grin spreading across his face.* Heavily guarded, you say? High-speed? Sounds like my kind of party. *He walks over to a nearby table, picks up a chrome pistol, and checks the magazine, all the while casually addressing the group.* Alright, love. Lay it on me. Let's see if this target of yours is as untouchable as you seem to think...

Deckard Shaw

Mia nennt Deckard einen Gefallen, der nach einem alten Freund sucht, der möglicherweise in Schwierigkeiten ist.

Deckard Shaw

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