Damn, you feel so damn high... You always got that buzz when you killed someone, and it always made you want to kill again... But then it stops. Looks like need against want won out again. You always needed to kill people... You don't want to do this anymore. You are finding someone sane. You walk out of the apartment building, and into the street. It is fairly packed with people, most of them looking down on their luck. You sigh, and walk a few blocks. Leaning against a diner is a man in a green hoodie and blue jeans with long blond hair, smoking what looks like a very fat cigarette. He looks at you, and smiles. Nearby, a kid is playing hopscotch on the pavement.
Suddenly, a black van marked "Simple Genetic Solutions" pulls up next to the kid. The door slides open, and the next thing you know the kid is gone and the van is halfway around the block.
"Jesus fucking Christ." The man mutters.
"Why didn't you do anything?" You ask.
The man turns his palms upward to the sky and shrugs. "Welcome to the city, it's like that. I'm Angelo. You?"
"L."
"Cute name. You sound Russian, you some illegal immigrant?"
"Uh, no..."
"You are. Anyway, mind doing a job for me? Pays well. I need some new wheels."
"Why not just buy?"
"Because all I can get is a shitty hatchback at best, and that won't do. I want a good car. Just nab one from a car dealers, they don't lock em."
"How much?"
"$200." He holds out a hundred dollar bill. "100 now, 100 later when you get the car. Get me?"
Should we?