Driving from the summers residence Spike was in a revere of his own. Humming slightly as he drove the speed limit for a once. Swinging into a petrol station he stopped to fuel up. The night was extremely quiet, but he hardly noticed as he whistled and filled his tank. He seemed to be the only car still running in the night. His jaunty tune continued as he placed the cap back on the tank. He was finishing up, almost done when a roar to his right side made him look up.
Spike stared with a raised brow as the figure dressed in all black, mask included, screamed at him. He began a sentence with, "What the F-" But was cut short as another figure tackled him from his left side. Hitting the ground hard, Spike's vision started to spin after his jaw was the first to hit the concrete. The figure that tackled him flipped Spike off of his stomach and onto his back. The roaring figure finally came about and started digging through Spike's pockets. Straddling Spike's barely conscious body The tackler pulled a club out and frantically beat on the already half unconscious body. With the keys found, and wallet raided, the roarer ran about and slipping into the drivers side of Spike's Rolls Royce.
Despite all of the ruckus that was occurring at the closed station, no one was aware of the bloodied, beaten figure left to rot next to the gas pump as the black figures took off. "No..." Spike coughed once, looking down and seeing a hefty amount of blood come up and smack the concrete. His ring... That's all that drifted through his muddled mind, "Rin..." With that he passed out giving one last look at the tail lights of his car as it drove away with his promise ring hanging from a chain around his rear view mirror.