[Open Frequency] Jesus CHRIST

[nuggets303]

[align=left]*Randall holds the radio firmly in his hand, staring at it intently. With his other hand, he carefully turns its dial to his desired frequency*

[align=left]"Hello? God, I don't even know if this piece of shit is working."

[align=left]*Again, frustrated, Randall turns the radio on and speaks into it; with a hint of irritation in his deep voice*

[align=left]"Okay fine listen, anyone who can hear me. I need two goddamn things. One; can someone get me a fucking weapon cleaning kit? For the love of God, I'll trade anything of value for a freakin' weapon cleaning kit. And next..."

[align=left]*His voice chokes up, and the radio stutters for a moment*

[align=left]"I need my brother... Returned to me. Please. If you're out there... Get Jaryd back to me. You sons of bitches will pay for taking him. And don't think I forgot your face, you fuck. I swear to God, if he..."

[align=left]*The radio cuts out again, and doesn't turn back on. John wipes away a tear from his cheek, and throws the radio across the room.*

[align=left]"Why him... Why him not me..."

[marksman48]

Fiorentino rolls his eyes as he listens to the man's useless pleas on the radio. He put his half-cleaned glock on the table and wiped his hands on a rag before reaching for his walkie-talkie and thumbing the button.

"Lookit fuckstick, you gotta say details if you're trying to find someone. What's their name? What do they look like? Who took them? What did they look like? Details, dumbass, they're important."

He releases the button with an exasperated sigh before glancing over to his cleaning kit and thumbs it again.

"Oh yeah..." He growled into the radio. "Don't ask for gear or anything over the radio unless you're looking to trade. It's a damn good way to get yourself shot."

Fiorentino releases the button and throws the radio onto his folded jacket next to him before resuming his work.