A small station wagon sits on a wooded dirt lot, two men are are chatting.

"Oi, Seamus. When's th' deal happenin' again?"

"Should be here soon, roughly fi- Oi! Don't sample the fookin' product!"

"C'mooon, it's not like he's gonna be here soon

"Still, don't fookin' sample the shite."

*shuck*

Seamus's windpipe explodes outward, he clutches at his throat and gurgles.

"SHITE, SHITE! F-"

*shuck*

Another round sinks into the head of the other Irishman.

A man wielding a silenced MPL, he looks around the inside of the station wagon and grabs a small duffel of cocaine. He sinks a round into Seamus's head.

The man opens up the duffel and looks inside, he counts the pouches and tosses it to the side. He looks around the car, grabbing bullet casings. He grabs the duffel bag once more and heads out to his car. He zips open the duffel bag and counts pouches of coke.

"Fockin' hell... So uh, four kilos. O'Connor wanted three... I'm sure he wouldn't miss one..."