Editing Setting:InfiniCon/Lore (section)

==How did I get myself into this? pt1==
You know, I used to like cons when I was younger. I used to love meeting people like me, having fun, going on adventures like in the games and TV I watched all the time. And then I grew up. I went to school, got laid, got my degree and got a job. Turns out, that job lead me here to the city. They say this place has a certain kind of “magic.” I don’t believe any of that shit about all the weebs shooting laser beams and shit, but I do think this place has soul. This place is always running, always has something going on. You’d think most of the time the shit that goes on here would be all the fan service bullshit right? Well, let me tell you about my new job.

When I graduated from college I had myself a business degree, connections, and a closet full of Gucci suits. Don’t ask how I got the money for em’ I ain’t gonna tell, just know I had to work real hard to look this good. Anyway, my degree was in marketing so I applied for the first job I could find that was like that show I used to watch. What was it called? Madmen, that’s it. Madmen. I wanted to be a drinking, chain smoking, womanizing son of a bitch in the real world of business. I applied for a few jobs, most of em’ I got thrown to the wolves, but this one guy, Steve, the fella looked kinda like Buddy Holly, he gave me the chance for an interview. When I went to the place he gave me directions to it was an old run down 4 story building with paint chipping off the walls and graffiti painted over all the paint that decided to stay.
Steve greeted me with a happy hello and lead me to an office on the 3rd floor. I waited in the hallway for about an hour before Steve came back out and showed me in. I was greeted by a panel of 3 men, all in cheap suits, rocking pompadours, and smoking the biggest cigars I've ever seen. They were whispering to each other, mumbling, groaning, coughing. Steve stood at attention every now and then giving me a glance through his horn-rimmed glasses. The men finally looked at me. The middle one cleared his throat and began to speak. 

“It has come to our attention that you are seeking employment. We may happen to be the only offer you get and if that’s the case, we really can give you whatever we think feels right. We’re going to give you the job that you have always dreamed about. Your life will always be on the line, the pay will be shit, but you will be dealing with all of your favorite substances in large amounts, rubbing shoulders with the rich, and you’ll get to wear those nice suits we have heard so much about.” I nodded without missing a beat. I knew if I showed any sort of hesitation I’d probably be killed at this point. I knew for a fact Steve was armed with the way his suit lumped at his breast, and who knows what the three of them had hidden in their rolls of fat. He continued, “You will be managing the transportation of our fine products into and out of one area of one place. Easy. This consists of mostly of petty things such as cigarettes and booze to things none of us in this room would even touch. Anyway, this shit is held up in a few safe houses and back rooms of reputable shops in the area. The security is kinda high, but between some of the alternate routes you can take and how many officers we have paid off you should be fine. Oh, and the city is one big convention, have fun, don’t fuck us over, and anything the slave waifus say is a lie. Steve can tell you the rest.” And then they went back to unintelligible squabbling.