You smash your fist down hard on his cluttered desk, 
disrupting the contents.
 
"Yeah, you know me. I did a job for you a year ago, and
still haven't been paid. You think I'm gonna' be your little
runner boy now, after what you pulled?"
 
The man seems to think for a moment while he examines you.
Then a light seems to come on in his head. He scratches his
chin and leans back in his chair a little.
 
"Yeah, yeah..." he says, "the, uh, the Johnson job, right?"
 
You nod slowly and knowingly.
 
"I, um, thought you went down with 'im, you know? Larry
didn't say nothin' about you makin' it out."
 
Suddenly you get the feeling that you've made the wrong
choice. You don't have time to reflect on your decision;
the man behind the desk pulls out a revolver and puts three
slugs in your chest. Like the guy you were trying to
impersonate, you don't make it out.
~THEEND