You needed money. Bad.

For what? It did not need to be stated to anyone. All they needed to know was that you had to find twenty five thousand dollars in a timely manner.

Turning the wheel harshly, your car skids around the corner, the smell of burning rubber reaching your nose. Pressing the gas pedal down as far as the floor would allow, you hum to yourself. You would surely find a way to get the money, that was the least of your concerns. What had piqued your interest was the stand on the side of the deserted road. It had cheerful pastel colors, with big, bold white letters reading “One Dollar For Every Poke”. Money? For simply poking someone? That sounded too good to be true to someone in your situation. Surely it was a scam, the friendly looking guy behind the table was probably just looking for a way to scam you or kidnap you. Probably.

Parking your car slightly tilted into the itch on the side of the desolate road, you fling the car door open and clamber out, gaze fixed on the quaint stall a few meters away. The man standing behind the stand smiles warmly and offers a cheerful wave as you walk over, speaking up once you get close enough to hear.

“Hey stranger! Fancy seeing you here, huh?”

The man with the bubblegum pink hair, dressed in a pastel blue suit grins. It's almost as if he's been expecting you. How odd. Without hesitation, you lean forward across the stall, poking his shoulder. The man chuckles, before handing you a dollar.

“Seems like you've already got it down, my friend!”

Harvey jests, before resting his elbows on the stall. As your gaze flicks to the ground, curious about the stand, you spot a small pile of rather…gruesome items at the foot of the stall. Cheerful and unsuspecting, the man behind the stall seemed oblivious to the pile of weapons laid out for you in front of his stall. Your gaze flicks over the weapons, theorizing why they might be there and if using any of them would be worth the agony you could cause to the man.