Smoking.
It was ironic that he did not really belive in it, after all he had done a lot of bad things, both morally and health wise, yet this one habit he really never given much thought to. But it was not because of the supposed health risk which he does not believe were real, those egg-heads tend to force the "truth" their way in his opinion. The reason he did not believe in it was simple, it was too easy to be caught.
One cigarette, all it takes is one butt nowadays for the cops to track you down and off to prison you go. That, and an incident he had personally experienced early in his life when he accidently P.O.'ed an underboss, which would have ended up very nasty if the fumes from the gas can hadn't been ignited by that cigarette.
This was crossing his mind after shelling out some cash to the clerk, and his wondering eye had caught the sight of the wall of smokes. It was kind of random and a little meaningless, but he had to think of something to keep from reaching across the counter and break the little pun's neck with ease. It would be the last thing he needs, not only would the cops be all over his ass but they would find him. "Have a good day." the clerk muttered, as he walked out of the mini-mart towards the awaiting Stallion near the pumps.
A month, a whole month he had been on the run after that incident with the cartel. He had to get out of there, with every criminal organization screaming for blood, his blood, there was no choice in the matter. Do or die, as a lot of people would say.
Sliding behind the wheel of the muscle car as he reached over for the map in the passenger seat, sliding a finger over the route he threw it aside before pulling out from the mini-mart. Only a few more miles to go, then he should hit the city limits of Megakat city soon.
There was not much he could do right now, not only was he federal wanted man and a marked for death he held no contacts in this city, and the only money he had left could possibly buy him a week at some crack den of a hotel. It was not much, but it is a step up from being dead.
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Megakat City, one of the world's largest cities only second to Liberty City on the east coast and Tokyo in Japan, also containing the largest population of homo felipan minority in America, a close second would be Odessa, Texas. But this was not the only thing that made this city unique, it is also the rampant form of so-called super villains that often threaten the safety of the civilians. This lead to the formation of the law enforcement called "enforcers".
Between the bombings, monster rampages, vigilantes and rampaging comic book rejects the city had been rebuilt a few times, but asking anyone on the street why they stay they would most likely say, "beats the worst city in the world."
Being the deputy mayor may have perks but much of the responsibility, both coming with the job and those adding on by the staff, tend to weigh heavy on someone her age. But she was tough, it was rough growing up so she was use to it. But there were times that the mayor's inabilities to work - and general laziness - would get to her, this was one of those times.
A few hours ago the mayor had called her just as she arrived at work, his driver had up and quit leaving him high and dry at the mansion. It agitated her to no end, not only does she have a lot of paperwork to focus on but now she has to write up an ad for a new driver in the paper. Biting her lower lip as the e-mail had been sent off to the papers, it said that the mayor was a "generous, elderly gentleman" which had her holding back a few laughs. The whole ad was a slight bending of the truth, but she doubts "cheap old bastard needs decoy to be shot at" would garner much response.
Turning towards the more important work in the back of her mind she wonders why does Manx goes through so many drivers but brushed it off, not many people can stand being attacked by every wacko in town while the mayor runs for cover. Hell if it wasn't for her will she would have left a long time ago.
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The San Andreas hotel was a dive if he ever seen one, peeling paint here and there, dark spots along the walkway that was a bit reddish in color and some beat up cars in the parking lot screamed drug den. But the man still walked through the double glass doors, into the brightly lit lobby where there was a she-kat standing behind the counter hunched over a magazine before looking up.
"Need somethin'?" pulling out a wad of bills, she nodded as she snatched the bills out his hand. Counting them out she shot a looked at him, "you got a week. After that ether pay up or get out." Handing over the key the she-kat returned to her magazine as he left.
The room was surprisingly clean, expecting for a newspaper sitting on the small table on the other side of the room, but that was hardly worth getting riled about. In fact there might be something funny in the obituaries, scooping up said paper while sitting on the edge of the bed he leafed over a few things.
Mambas lost the superbowl, hitman makes blood money, swf, pianist hit by piano. He thought while reading over the mundane articles before hitting the comic section, first Dilbert then Heggar the horrible. Somewhere between Rose is a rose and Garfield he had glanced at the ad section sitting opposite of the comic page, he did not know whatever it was the wording or the type face that caught his eye but something told him that his problems solved.
There in bold, in the middle of the page with a head that simply read: Driver wanted.
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Morning came fast, a night's rest was what he needed. A fast show, breakfast on his last dime and quick stop for directions he found himself standing at the massive skyscraper that served as city hall, there was a bit of law enforcement around but he knew if you act suspicious then they are suspicious, pushing through the revolving door into the large lobby.
Truth be told, he had seen more impressive in lesser cities. From the plain carpeting to the bland wall paper the man took it in as he walked up the receptionist desk, which was manned by a very nervous guy who looked like he could crack at any minute. Looking up with beady eyes hidden behind wire frame glasses he stared at the man, it was not every day a human walked into the office. "M, May I help you?"
He held up the newspaper, the ad for the driver circled, which the man behind the desk leaned in to study. "Down the hall," he pointed. "Turn right, and go to the door with a blue mark on it."
With a nod he walked through a narrow hall until he came at a door with a blue circle painted onto it, upon opening it he noticed that on the other side was a parking garage with a few cars here and there, but the noticeable one was sitting right in front of him. Standing before a cheetah sportster was a short, old, balding kat in a bad suit and an ever worse hair piece.
"Are you here to be a driver?" the old kat asked. The man only nod in response, "do you have a name?"
"Claude," he said, voice a bit rough from minimal use. "Claude Speed."
"Alright." the kat carried an usual accent in his speech, "here is the deal. Many of my driver's tend to perform, other activities." he rubbed his nose a bit while shifting his gaze a bit, "I need someone that will keep, those things quiet. If you catch my drift." again, Claude nodded in response. "Good, but you know I have to test you. Take this car, go to the Clinic and fetch a girl named Daisy."
As the older kat stepped aside the eyes were harden, there were something that Claude was very familiar with. Hands on the wheel, eyes on the road. Or you're a dead man.