I just had to share what just happened in the game I'm in. Not exactly D&D, but still... 
We were being followed in our van, and I had a preminision that the guy who was following us was a thug I had seen when my character killed a Mob-associated pimp (there was anohter Mob boss involved who approached my character, a Bounty Hunter in New York). So, while one of the PCs (A ghost) materializes in his car, and starts messing with it, before grabbing his gun, I stop the van, and he rams into us. So I jump out, and the ghost hands me the thug's gun. So here he is, having a 'Ninja' materialize in his car, yank it around, and grab his gun, then pass it onto the guy he was following. I'm outside his window, pointing the guns at him.
Reynard says, "Do you want to get shot?"
The crook swallows. "No, of course not." he says evenly, his voice managing not to shake.
Reynard nods his head. "Right. No one wants to get shot. Now, I can be a good chap and not shoot you, or I can be a cold blooded killer and leave your corpse in the car for the residence here to find in the morning. All it takes is a good bit of cooperation. Now, you see, I recognize you. And I want you to explain to me why I recognize you."
The crook looks at Reynard. And then at the guns. And at Reynard again. "Uhh...someone showed you a mugshot, maybe?" he says.
Reynard snorts. "Not quite. You were at Frankie's place the night he got plugged. You politely walked away that evening. Now, I saw you there that night. That makes me wonder why it is we're meeting like this, with Your gun in My hands, and you having followed me from a crime scene."
The man looks ashen. "Look, I was just told to follow you, okay? To find out where you went, and then notify the boss."
Reynard mmhm. "Right. So, there's this boss, who wants to know where I am." He raises a brow. "And, which boss is that?"
The thug shrugs. "Devon O'Brien. He works for the big man."
Reynard nods his head. "Right. Where do you live?"
"What? What the **** difference does it make where *I* live?" the thug blusters.
Reynard simply raises an eyebrow at that. "Because I have the guns."
The thug inclines his head, as if Reyanrd scored a telling point. "125th street. Close to the park."
Reynard nods his head. "Right, then. Now, I'd like to know your appartnemnt number, or house number, or whatever. Oh, and while you're at it," He says, putting his gun in it' holster while holding the thug's, "Give me your wallet. Realize that I have a gun pointed at your throat, so if you shoot me, I take you with me. If you hand me your wallet, I'd say that's quite the cooperation."
The thug looks at him balefully. "First time *I* ever been robbed." he says almost conversationally, fishing out his wallet and handing it through the window. "64. It's a small hole. I don't spend a lot of time there, though. Mostly I'm with the boys at O'Brien's place. He likes to have us on hand.
Reynard nods his head. "Reasonable. A man in the middle needs his goons. I appreciate the help you've been here," He pockets the wallet. "The car keys, also. So, how much does this job pay you, anyway? I imagine you get a decent cut. Good health benefits?"
The thug shrugs again. "Health benefits, sure. If I get shot, I get to keep the bullet." he snorts. "But they take care of me okay."
Reynard snickers a little bit. "Cute. Do you have any other guns in the car? Or any ammunition, for that matter? And, I was serious about the car keys."
The thug sighs, and hands over the keys. "No ammo. The gun's loaded, but like I said, this wasn't a shooting gig. I just had my one piece."
Reynard nods, and pockets the keys. He then takes the beretta, and fiddles with it until he can eject the clip. "Right then." He tosses the empty gun into the window. "Keep the change. Don't follow me again. I did you a favor. Don't make me regret it. And, thank you for being a jolly good sport." He pats the car door, before turning around and walking to the van.
We were being followed in our van, and I had a preminision that the guy who was following us was a thug I had seen when my character killed a Mob-associated pimp (there was anohter Mob boss involved who approached my character, a Bounty Hunter in New York). So, while one of the PCs (A ghost) materializes in his car, and starts messing with it, before grabbing his gun, I stop the van, and he rams into us. So I jump out, and the ghost hands me the thug's gun. So here he is, having a 'Ninja' materialize in his car, yank it around, and grab his gun, then pass it onto the guy he was following. I'm outside his window, pointing the guns at him.Reynard says, "Do you want to get shot?"
The crook swallows. "No, of course not." he says evenly, his voice managing not to shake.
Reynard nods his head. "Right. No one wants to get shot. Now, I can be a good chap and not shoot you, or I can be a cold blooded killer and leave your corpse in the car for the residence here to find in the morning. All it takes is a good bit of cooperation. Now, you see, I recognize you. And I want you to explain to me why I recognize you."
The crook looks at Reynard. And then at the guns. And at Reynard again. "Uhh...someone showed you a mugshot, maybe?" he says.
Reynard snorts. "Not quite. You were at Frankie's place the night he got plugged. You politely walked away that evening. Now, I saw you there that night. That makes me wonder why it is we're meeting like this, with Your gun in My hands, and you having followed me from a crime scene."
The man looks ashen. "Look, I was just told to follow you, okay? To find out where you went, and then notify the boss."
Reynard mmhm. "Right. So, there's this boss, who wants to know where I am." He raises a brow. "And, which boss is that?"
The thug shrugs. "Devon O'Brien. He works for the big man."
Reynard nods his head. "Right. Where do you live?"
"What? What the **** difference does it make where *I* live?" the thug blusters.
Reynard simply raises an eyebrow at that. "Because I have the guns."
The thug inclines his head, as if Reyanrd scored a telling point. "125th street. Close to the park."
Reynard nods his head. "Right, then. Now, I'd like to know your appartnemnt number, or house number, or whatever. Oh, and while you're at it," He says, putting his gun in it' holster while holding the thug's, "Give me your wallet. Realize that I have a gun pointed at your throat, so if you shoot me, I take you with me. If you hand me your wallet, I'd say that's quite the cooperation."
The thug looks at him balefully. "First time *I* ever been robbed." he says almost conversationally, fishing out his wallet and handing it through the window. "64. It's a small hole. I don't spend a lot of time there, though. Mostly I'm with the boys at O'Brien's place. He likes to have us on hand.
Reynard nods his head. "Reasonable. A man in the middle needs his goons. I appreciate the help you've been here," He pockets the wallet. "The car keys, also. So, how much does this job pay you, anyway? I imagine you get a decent cut. Good health benefits?"
The thug shrugs again. "Health benefits, sure. If I get shot, I get to keep the bullet." he snorts. "But they take care of me okay."
Reynard snickers a little bit. "Cute. Do you have any other guns in the car? Or any ammunition, for that matter? And, I was serious about the car keys."
The thug sighs, and hands over the keys. "No ammo. The gun's loaded, but like I said, this wasn't a shooting gig. I just had my one piece."
Reynard nods, and pockets the keys. He then takes the beretta, and fiddles with it until he can eject the clip. "Right then." He tosses the empty gun into the window. "Keep the change. Don't follow me again. I did you a favor. Don't make me regret it. And, thank you for being a jolly good sport." He pats the car door, before turning around and walking to the van.
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