Seeing as how we were going to check out a warehouse, we got tooled up. The Russian especially, he went to B&Q and really went to town. Tilly went home and got tooled up mentally, by looking through books, finding an obscure reference to a Czechoslovakistani blood ritual cult from the early 1800s, headed by a guy whose name even the GM had trouble pronouncing, but "Tonsillitis" is close enough.
After meeting up at Starbucks, we also got tooled up very below board in a car park. Now we're carrying some old, sawn-off shotguns with ammo, a couple of handaxes and a bigger, diamond-edged axe Eddie took such a shine to that he named it Axcalibur.
At the warehouse, we heard voices ... saw footsteps ... and witnessed the carrying of a big box that definitely was from an Indiana Jones film, even though the GM insists the box really doesn't contain the Ark of the Covenant. Shots were fired (not by us), and suddenly we found ourselves face to face with the warehouse owner. In the words of the Teletubbies: uh-oh.