Word seems to have traveled quickly.
On my way back into Cross this morning, I had the distinct displeasure of being fired upon from a moving vehicle.
I have never enjoyed being fired. I like to make sure that those who shoot at me understand this.
The shooters in the car missed me but did manage to do significant damage to several buildings. When they realized they had failed in their attempt, they turned around for another pass.
Their hubris afforded me the opportunity to show them what can be done when you take your time and aim your weapon.
The driver and one of the gunners died immediately. Unfortunately, the other two shooters were thrown clear of the vehicle when it crashed. One of them was useless, his face having been torn apart after having struck the side of a building.
The other attempted to crawl away, leaving his weapon behind. I believe he suffered from the belief that I would not shoot an unarmed man.
Armed or unarmed, if someone shoots at me, they die.
I walked up to him and put the barrels of both guns against the back of his head. None who watch tried to stop me.
Before he could beg for his life, I blew his brains out on the corner of Rose Street and Main.
On my way home, I was struck by a sudden realization, one which left me out of sorts.
Somehow, the enemy knew where I lived.
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