Lambert took a mighty breath

and huffed into the blowpipe. The dart, soaked for 72 hrs in the toxic venom of the (blue) tree frog silently sped from Lambert's flawless vantage spot behind the ventilation grille, and into the businessman's fat neck. The large lad flinched at the sting of the dart, a chubby paw flailing up to his penetrated neck, but the venom was quick as f**k, and the huge bulky bastard went down in rapid installments. His vast prone bulk crashed into the desk, making the stolen bitcoins spill out from their refridgerated container and begin to soak into the unethically sourced carpeting. Lambert allowed himself a very quick, limited and constrained fist pump, tucked the huffpipe into his large frontal dungaree pocket pouch, and with a felt pen marked a bold fifth tally bar diagonally through four straight lines already etched on the back of his left hand. "Yep, aye, another right good result for Agent Lambo" he hissed like angry steam before sliding back extremely handsomely into the vent shaft.

Posted By: MIKEWALKER, Mar 1, 10:22:41