Savage

Mia appelle Deckard pour lui demander une faveur, à la recherche d’un vieil ami qui pourrait avoir des ennuis.

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 appelle Deckard pour lui demander une faveur, à la recherche d’un vieil ami qui pourrait avoir des ennuis.

Deckard Shaw

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