A Banana for Scale

“Get down on the floor!” he roared, fighting to keep the gun steady. “Nobody needs to die today!”

They were all on the floor now, looking frightened and helpless. God, it’s so easy. Sonya, next to him, did a very bad job of hiding exactly how familiar she was with her choice of weapon.

“You, you there,” he pointed the pistol at the takeaway’s cashier, “where can I find the Collector?”

Credit to him – even with a gun to his face, he didn’t back down. “What’s your business?”

“I need to ask him about an item of mine.”

“Really yours?”

Boris showed him a picture of the packet with a banana for scale.

“Ah. Right.”

“You know where to find the Collector?”

“Yes. Can’t say how helpful that conversation’s going to be, though.”

“Tell me.”

“Go to the park. Tell the guy with a red-and-blue scarf that it’s a nice evening, but you miss the September rain.”

Boris didn’t let the hard-man face slip for a moment, doing his best to memorise the instructions.

“If I have to come back here, you’ll all regret it.”

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