The bulky hispanic man sat in his 1982 Cadillac, waiting for the light to
turn green. As he turned the volume up on his car stereo to blast his rap
music, he thought about his future in the Cartel. He proved to be the best
young up-and-coming member of the gang, having succeeded without error in
all the jobs given to him. But tonight was his night off and he wanted to
enjoy it.
Just as he put his hand back on the gear stick, he heard a gunshot that seemed relatively close. He started to reach for his glove compartment where he kept his automatic pistol when the bullet connected with the back of his head, blowing blood out of the passenger window and onto the car in the next lane.
People waiting to cross the street gasped in horror after witnessing the hideous attack. Other drivers sat perplexed in their cars until they realized what had happened. Some drivers sped off to where ever they had been going in the first place while others got out of their cars and slowly made their way to the crime scene. An on looking storeowner had called the police just seconds after the crime occurred. Police sirens could be heard in the distance but the assailant had already ran down the three story fire escape of the building he had fired from and was getting into his car.
His name was Sid Reynolds. He was a young punk rocker, almost six feet tall, with spiked green hair and wore a black t-shirt featuring a large pictogram on the back. Reynolds had just graduated from high school and had a promising career in computer programming ahead of him but had chosen to take the life of an anarchist.
The local punk rockers were being oppressed by the Cartel and were downright pissed about it. A small group of punks had started a so-called "gang" to fight back against the ruthless Cartel and were doing a hell of a job of it. Sid, using his recently stolen sniper rifle, had just earned enough respect to get "employed" by the punks.
Sid sped out of the alleyway in the Honda Accord that he had stolen just ten minutes before. He drove for a few blocks, parked the stolen car, and went into a phone booth. Sid dialed the number that his friend inside the gang had given him. It rang twice before someone answered.
"Code name," said the monotone voice on the other end of the line.
"Green Fever," Sid responded immediately.
"Confirmed. Be at the bar of O'Malley's Pub at 10:00. If you're late, you're screwed," the voice said.
Click. The other end went dead.
Sid looked at his watch. It was 9:30. He had a half hour to get to O'Malley's. Sid decided that he needed to make sure to be early for this one so he did fifteen over the speed limit the whole way without seeing a single cop.
Just as he put his hand back on the gear stick, he heard a gunshot that seemed relatively close. He started to reach for his glove compartment where he kept his automatic pistol when the bullet connected with the back of his head, blowing blood out of the passenger window and onto the car in the next lane.
People waiting to cross the street gasped in horror after witnessing the hideous attack. Other drivers sat perplexed in their cars until they realized what had happened. Some drivers sped off to where ever they had been going in the first place while others got out of their cars and slowly made their way to the crime scene. An on looking storeowner had called the police just seconds after the crime occurred. Police sirens could be heard in the distance but the assailant had already ran down the three story fire escape of the building he had fired from and was getting into his car.
His name was Sid Reynolds. He was a young punk rocker, almost six feet tall, with spiked green hair and wore a black t-shirt featuring a large pictogram on the back. Reynolds had just graduated from high school and had a promising career in computer programming ahead of him but had chosen to take the life of an anarchist.
The local punk rockers were being oppressed by the Cartel and were downright pissed about it. A small group of punks had started a so-called "gang" to fight back against the ruthless Cartel and were doing a hell of a job of it. Sid, using his recently stolen sniper rifle, had just earned enough respect to get "employed" by the punks.
Sid sped out of the alleyway in the Honda Accord that he had stolen just ten minutes before. He drove for a few blocks, parked the stolen car, and went into a phone booth. Sid dialed the number that his friend inside the gang had given him. It rang twice before someone answered.
"Code name," said the monotone voice on the other end of the line.
"Green Fever," Sid responded immediately.
"Confirmed. Be at the bar of O'Malley's Pub at 10:00. If you're late, you're screwed," the voice said.
Click. The other end went dead.
Sid looked at his watch. It was 9:30. He had a half hour to get to O'Malley's. Sid decided that he needed to make sure to be early for this one so he did fifteen over the speed limit the whole way without seeing a single cop.