He quickly reloaded, and headed outside. Faintly, he could hear the sounds of grunting. He walked around the corner, and found a half-opened garage, and a Umberto desperately trying to open it the entire way to make way for his high-performance Cuban Hermes. Finally, the garage creaked all the way open, and Umberto jumped into the car.
"Come on, please start!!"
Without warning, the engine roared to life, and the car sped out from the garage, just barely missing Kevin. Before he could try and retaliate, the car had left his sight.
Back outside, Catalina had just left the café when the Hermes stormed past. She withdrew her Desert Eagle and began firing repeatedly. To her luck, the back left tire was blown out, and the vehicle quickly lost control. It smashed through the front entrance of a donut shop, and in the midst of the flying donut debris, the car horn sounded endlessly.
Kevin walked out from the garage, and saw the wreckage and Catalina. She smiled, and jogged across the street to the totalled the car. Kevin followed close behind, and chewed on a donut that had flown out. Catalina tore the door open and threw Umberto onto his back on the street. His face was bruised and bloody, his clothing ragged.
"You whimps, don'tchoo know who I am!?"
Catalina smirked, and kicked his beaten body.
Kevin came over, holding his .45; Catalina her Desert Eagle.
"Please, the money's in the trunk, I give it to you, please!!"
Kevin and Catalina raised their pistols, and pointed them straight down to Umberto's face.
"Please, no!!"
"Good night, Mr. Robina." Catalina hissed.
"Poor guy . . ."
The detective stood over what was left of Umberto Robina's corpse, as his car lie still smoking in the donut shop. Ambulances were scattered like leaves on an autumn day, and the crisp scent of death filled the air. As the photographers snapped their pictures, the detective headed across to Robina's café.
"Wasn't he the biggest Cuban gangster in the city?" A lowly paramedic said, as he lifted his body.
"Yup, he sure got what he deserved."
Without warning, a voice pierced the air, sounding of positive energy.
"Someone still alive!!" He shouted.
The sharply dressed detective headed inside the café where the voice originated. Inside, three paramedics lie huddled around a single man who lie on the floor. The detective couldn't help but giggle when he saw the poor man's clothing. His mullet was rusted with blood, and he managed to only spit out a few sounds. He was covered with bullets, but the man managed to stay alive. Just like some bad '70s song.
The paramedic noticed the man had a bullet embedded in his skull, almost guaranteeing brain damage. He seemed to be hanging by a thread to life. The detective reached over and patted the medic on the back.
"Don't worry, he probably deserved it, too."
The hustle and bustle of the crime scene continued, the trails of carnage skewered the area deep.
The abandoned warehouse sat on the water, derelict. Inside, Cameron and his boys lie sleeping peacefully. Without warning, the main doors were thrown open, and the slender embodiement of a woman entered.
"Did you get the money back?" Cameron shouted, his finger on his pistol's trigger.
"Yeah, calm down. Here's your money."
Catalina hurled two briefcases through the air, and they eventually landed at Cameron's feet.
"There were three cases."
"Hey, just be happy with two."
Cameron remembered what happened to Catalina's past loves when she didn't enjoy them, and quickly calmed down. He returned inside his office, where his makeshift bed lie. He suspected there was something fishy about her. But in the end, he was just too scared to confront her.
Across the way, Catalina herself went to her usual nighttime pleasure -- Greg. He lie asleep on his pathetically made bed, sleeping quietly through the night. He was startled awake when he felt her soft gentle hands rubbing against his thighs. He opened his eyes, and saw her glimmering beautiful face looking back, peacefully.
"Hey . . ." He whispered tiredly.
"Shhh, go back to sleep."
Greg rolled over to his side, and obeyed orders. Catalina smirked, and stroked his thigh once more, all the while taking his wallet out and stealing every dollar she found.
"Come on, please start!!"
Without warning, the engine roared to life, and the car sped out from the garage, just barely missing Kevin. Before he could try and retaliate, the car had left his sight.
Back outside, Catalina had just left the café when the Hermes stormed past. She withdrew her Desert Eagle and began firing repeatedly. To her luck, the back left tire was blown out, and the vehicle quickly lost control. It smashed through the front entrance of a donut shop, and in the midst of the flying donut debris, the car horn sounded endlessly.
Kevin walked out from the garage, and saw the wreckage and Catalina. She smiled, and jogged across the street to the totalled the car. Kevin followed close behind, and chewed on a donut that had flown out. Catalina tore the door open and threw Umberto onto his back on the street. His face was bruised and bloody, his clothing ragged.
"You whimps, don'tchoo know who I am!?"
Catalina smirked, and kicked his beaten body.
Kevin came over, holding his .45; Catalina her Desert Eagle.
"Please, the money's in the trunk, I give it to you, please!!"
Kevin and Catalina raised their pistols, and pointed them straight down to Umberto's face.
"Please, no!!"
"Good night, Mr. Robina." Catalina hissed.
"Poor guy . . ."
The detective stood over what was left of Umberto Robina's corpse, as his car lie still smoking in the donut shop. Ambulances were scattered like leaves on an autumn day, and the crisp scent of death filled the air. As the photographers snapped their pictures, the detective headed across to Robina's café.
"Wasn't he the biggest Cuban gangster in the city?" A lowly paramedic said, as he lifted his body.
"Yup, he sure got what he deserved."
Without warning, a voice pierced the air, sounding of positive energy.
"Someone still alive!!" He shouted.
The sharply dressed detective headed inside the café where the voice originated. Inside, three paramedics lie huddled around a single man who lie on the floor. The detective couldn't help but giggle when he saw the poor man's clothing. His mullet was rusted with blood, and he managed to only spit out a few sounds. He was covered with bullets, but the man managed to stay alive. Just like some bad '70s song.
The paramedic noticed the man had a bullet embedded in his skull, almost guaranteeing brain damage. He seemed to be hanging by a thread to life. The detective reached over and patted the medic on the back.
"Don't worry, he probably deserved it, too."
The hustle and bustle of the crime scene continued, the trails of carnage skewered the area deep.
The abandoned warehouse sat on the water, derelict. Inside, Cameron and his boys lie sleeping peacefully. Without warning, the main doors were thrown open, and the slender embodiement of a woman entered.
"Did you get the money back?" Cameron shouted, his finger on his pistol's trigger.
"Yeah, calm down. Here's your money."
Catalina hurled two briefcases through the air, and they eventually landed at Cameron's feet.
"There were three cases."
"Hey, just be happy with two."
Cameron remembered what happened to Catalina's past loves when she didn't enjoy them, and quickly calmed down. He returned inside his office, where his makeshift bed lie. He suspected there was something fishy about her. But in the end, he was just too scared to confront her.
Across the way, Catalina herself went to her usual nighttime pleasure -- Greg. He lie asleep on his pathetically made bed, sleeping quietly through the night. He was startled awake when he felt her soft gentle hands rubbing against his thighs. He opened his eyes, and saw her glimmering beautiful face looking back, peacefully.
"Hey . . ." He whispered tiredly.
"Shhh, go back to sleep."
Greg rolled over to his side, and obeyed orders. Catalina smirked, and stroked his thigh once more, all the while taking his wallet out and stealing every dollar she found.