The salty brown snow under Allison Dawkins' molded to the bottom of her shoes as she walked through the University of Connecticut parking garage, and with each step she pondered her upcoming article on the men's basketball team; she had just watched them terrorize the University of Maryland. Allison was unaware that every step closer to her car was a step closer to a fate that was not her own. She had walked this path many times, but the looming shadows grew a fear in her that she had never felt before. A mere thirty paces from her car; she removed her keys from her purse, clutching them in her fist, just in case. Like a pot of water, her fear boiled inside her. Allison's gaze was fixed on her car; if she could only get inside and lock the doors, this fear would subside to safety. That's when she noticed the hooded figure following her in side mirror of her car. His hood was drawn high, and chin low, cloaking his face in blackness. Allison increased her pace to a jog; the last ten feet to her car felt like a marathon. Jamming the keys into the door lock, she turned to see how close the figure had gotten. His hands were now raised into the air, a pistol in his right hand, and a syringe in his left. Allison frantically entered her car, locking the doors and spinning the motor to life; she kept her eyes trained on the rearview. Meanwhile, the hooded figure had been feeling similar to Allison, as if he was being followed; which was affirmed when another man, short and bearded, shoved a pistols muzzle into his back.
"Don't even think about it." said the short man.
"Do you know who you're dealing with?" replied the hooded figure. Smelling the arrogance on his words, the short man cocked the hammer on his weapon,
" I assure you, I do." The corners of the hooded man's lips rose in a smug smile as he dropped the syringe to the ground
"I assure you …" the hooded man spun counter clockwise, raising his now free left hand over the short man's right, blocking the hammer from falling with his index finger and simultaneously landing the hilt of his pistol on the short man's temple sending him to the concrete, "You don't.". The hooded figure knelt over his victim for a moment, until the sound of screeching tires beckoned his attention; sweeping his hood back he looked up to see Allison's taillights disappearing into the night. Disappointment and frustration exploded onto the now unmasked Jerry Tyson, 3XK's, face. After collecting any evidence he was there, Tyson shoved the short man into the trunk of his waiting car, and exited as calmly as he had entered.