[h2][color=#3B3B3B]J[/color][color=#626262]a[/color][color=#898989]n[/color][color=#B0B0B0]u[/color][color=#D7D7D7]s[/color][/h2]
[hr]
[indent][b]9:37 AM
The back of an alley along Pearl Road.[/b][/indent]
Booker pulled at the hem of his scarf, making sure it sat comfortable above his nose and didn't push his shades up to reveal his eyes. The quintet of men in front of him were beginning to show signs of suspicion, of nervousness. To be clear, Booker had ordered several pounds of their finest product earlier and was counting on the delivery to be here when he arrived. He had removed the plates from his car, taken his father's low-jack offline, rather forcefully, and dressed up in his most uncharacteristic clothing, all black and white to differentiate himself to his usual garish colors and name-brand fashion. A pair within the group whispered between themselves and looked his way, hands moving to their backs slowly. It was difficult to see in this alley with his sunglasses on. He immediately came to regret wearing them as he saw the pair's hands had returned to their pockets.

"Y'all know the deal. I say I've got the green, and you bring me the goods up front. If you can't supply for my demand then I'm thinking either you've got a shortage..."

He looked to them, lowering his shades just slightly, so they could see the whites of his eyes as he gazed at them all. They were twitchy, Dad had taught him a bit about what he would deal with out on the streets, back when he was just a little fish in a big ocean. They wanted to make a move. Body language and mannerisms, it was obvious. He continued talking.

"Or y'all came here to short-change me a few pounds in exchange for some lead. Am I right, or am I right?"

A flash of bright red and the sound of a sonic boom from overhead made them jump, each of them pulling a gat and ready to pop him. One of them screamed in fear, "Time to die, Janus! Nowhere to go!" They had his exit blocked off, so they had cornered him pretty well. Or so they thought. Booker dashed to the side and grabbed the lid of a nearby trashcan. With a lunge forward and a savage wrench of his torso, he flung the lid like a frisbee into the tightly packed group, throwing it with enough force to make it crumple against the leading gangster and have him fall back into his compatriots. It delayed their itchy trigger fingers for just long enough. Just long enough for him to walk over to a nearby dumpster and hoist it up in front of him.

He used the dumpster as cover as he made a charge for the exit, onto the street as he trampled the gangsters sprawling upon the floor, straight through a pair of parked cars and into the middle of a chase between a rocket-packed man and another on a motorcycle. He yelled as he threw the dumpster forward and made a run down the street, completely abandoning his car in favor of simply getting away on foot. The thugs would be fine, beaten black and blue by his tough boots and garbage antics, but fine all the same.