Axle sat on his porch, cigarette in mouth, he was on the clock. He watched, like a guardian, over a new slinger, replacing the one who was killed in a drive by, not even a week before. Axle tapped his cigarette in the ash tray next to him. It was hot, so Axle just wore a wife-beater, and some sweat pants rolled up to his knee. "Hey!" Some kid on a bike says, "Smoking kills!", "Yeah, so does this," Axle says pulling out a desert eagle and pointing it at him, "Which do ya think is faster?" The kid quickly speeds away on his bike, "Yeah, thought so. Fucking punk." He rests his cig on the ash tray, and pulls a beer from the 6 pack next to him, opens it takes a gulp. His eyes rest back on the slinger. He waits...