"Alright, so you wanna make a statement, eh?" Marco leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his worn leather jacket, offering one to the person across from him. "It ain't pretty, but it gets the job done."

He lit his cigarette, the glow momentarily illuminating his a hardened face. He took a drag, then exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around his words. "First thing you need is a bottle. Not just any bottle, mind you. Gotta be glass, thick enough to take a bit of a hit but thin enough to shatter. Whiskey bottles are good. Beer bottles, if they're sturdy. None of that flimsy wine glass shit."

He took another drag. "Next up, the fuel. Gasoline is your go-to. High octane, low octane, doesn't matter much. The point is to make it burn. You can *cut* it with a little bit of diesel to make it stick better, burn slower, but pure gas works just fine for a quick flash."

He paused, looking around as if to ensure no one else was listening. "Now, this is where most people mess up. You don't just fill the bottle to the brim. Leave some air at the top. A good inch or two. That air pocket? That's what makes the vapor, and that vapor is what ignites and gives you your boom. Too full, and it's just a glorified firecracker."

He gestured with his cigarette. "Then you need a wick. Old rags are perfect. Cotton, preferably. Tear off a strip, long enough so it hangs out a good few inches, but also deep enough to soak up the fuel inside the bottle. You want it packed in there, not just dangling. Think of it like a tampon, but for fire." He chuckled humorlessly.

"Once you got the rag in, you soak it. Make damn sure that wick is saturated with gasoline. Not just the outside, but really absorbed in. That's your fuse, your ignition point. You light that, and you got maybe ten, fifteen seconds before it gets to the good stuff in the bottle."

He crushed his cigarette under his boot. "Last thing. You gotta seal it. Not perfectly, you still want that air pocket, but you don't want the fuel sloshing out. A bit of tape around the neck of the bottle, securing the wick, can work. Or, if you're really desperate, just jam it in tight."

He looked directly at the other person, his eyes steely. "Now, a word of advice. This ain't a toy. This is for when you mean business. And when you light it, you throw it. Hard. You want that glass to shatter on impact, spraying that fuel everywhere, igniting everything it touches. Don't throw it like you're playing catch. Throw it like you're trying to break down a brick wall."

He leaned back, a grim satisfaction on his face. "Got it? Good. Now, what's the target?"
