CRACK ATTACK!
You decide to pawn the guns. Good choice. Seeing as you are smack-dab in the seedy heart of the ghetto, finding a shady pawn shop that will buy these assault rifles off you - no questions asked - should be fairly easy.
It doesn't take long for you to find a suitable establishment. A sign outside the building reads: <font size=+1 color=#0000FF>Big Al's Pawn, Liquor, Porn, and Daycare Center</font>. Just another example of the thriving entrepreneurial spirit of America at work! You march purposefully through the door, with thoughts of smoking crack rock after crack rock filling your tweaky little brain. You stride right up to the counter and dump the rifles in front of the disgruntled salesclerk. "Three hundred bucks and they're yours!" you declare.
The salesclerk appraises the weapons and frowns. "These are missing their serial numbers," he informs you bleakly. "I could get in serious trouble..." "Fine, fine," you cut in. "One hundred even."
The salesclerk beams with greedy delight. "Deal!"
Five minutes later you find yourself back on the streets, one hundred dollars richer. Now all you've got to do is find a crack-dealer that wont rip you off. Whitney was your main supplier, but you've got other hook-ups. Hmmm, which one will it be, cracker?
It doesn't take long for you to find a suitable establishment. A sign outside the building reads: <font size=+1 color=#0000FF>Big Al's Pawn, Liquor, Porn, and Daycare Center</font>. Just another example of the thriving entrepreneurial spirit of America at work! You march purposefully through the door, with thoughts of smoking crack rock after crack rock filling your tweaky little brain. You stride right up to the counter and dump the rifles in front of the disgruntled salesclerk. "Three hundred bucks and they're yours!" you declare.
The salesclerk appraises the weapons and frowns. "These are missing their serial numbers," he informs you bleakly. "I could get in serious trouble..." "Fine, fine," you cut in. "One hundred even."
The salesclerk beams with greedy delight. "Deal!"
Five minutes later you find yourself back on the streets, one hundred dollars richer. Now all you've got to do is find a crack-dealer that wont rip you off. Whitney was your main supplier, but you've got other hook-ups. Hmmm, which one will it be, cracker?
You have 3 choices:
- Your cousin Rob, who lives in the suburbs (you'll have to take the bus).
- Bobby Brown, Whitney's abusive boyfriend.
- That old black guy who hangs out in the alleyway behind your apartments (he's more of a mule or 'middleman' who takes your cash and returns twenty minutes later with your precious pebbles).