Tapping on his earpiece, Certain put in a call to Dragonfire. “Hello. Do you have any leads yet? So far my contacts have all given me a lot of nothing. I’m going into Duncan’s Pawn next,” he added before pushing open the clear glass door of the shop. He strolled up to the counter, gave a brilliant smile, then pointed behind the large young man behind the counter. “Do you have anything with a lot more oomph than that thirty ought six?” He was out of uniform, comfortable in a pain of blue jeans, a University of El Tercero T-shirt, and some plain sneakers.
Joe, according to the name-tag he wore, gave a shake of his greasy head. “Sorry buddy, but anything with a lot more oomph is illegal to sell in this state. You could try crossing the border to the east, only take all day. Or you could settle for what the law allows.”
“Well, thanks Joe,” said Certain in his civilian identity. “I think I’m going to take a look around for a bit. Maybe something other than a firearm will catch my eye.”
Dragonfire’s voice in his ear came through loud and clear. “I’ve got some homies who say they’ve been hearing of a new crew with some ‘dope new pieces’ that are trying to establish themselves over in Little Huynh. Next stop, over the railroad tracks.”
“Keep in touch. Out of uniform like we are, we’re more vulnerable, especially you.”
“You don’t have to remind me. Gabe, over and out.” It felt strange hearing the short version of Dragonfire’s real name in his ears, thought Certain. He didn’t go around telling saying his own name to anyone any more.