The Chevrolet Caprice sputtered and came to a halt on the side of the road, it's driver cursing his head off. "Fuckin' cocksucking piece of fuckin' shit, you fuckin' kidding me?" He slammed his fist off of the steering wheel and took a second to observe his surroundings. Michael picked the pistol up off of his lap and pulled the slide back, just enough to see the .45 caliber round nestled in the chamber. He grabbed his bag off of the passenger seat and clambered out of the vehicle, surveying his surroundings while slinging it over his shoulders.

He eyed a marked police cruiser that was victim of a recent crash and approached it with his pistol drawn. "Please, help me." The driver, clad in the uniform of a Wilmington Police Department officer. "Give me a second, alright? I'll get you outta here, pal." He leveled the barrel of the gun with the side of the police officer's head and pulled the trigger, ending his life. "Sorry pal." Michael spoke to the recently deceased as he reached inside and pulled his Glock 17 and extra magazines out of their respective holsters and pouches. 
		
"What the fuck are you doing? I heard a fuckin' gun shot!" Michael turned to the voice of another man and found him to be also clad in a policeman's uniform. "Sorry dog, your boy turned. Put him out of his misery." The policeman's face dropped and he lowered his shotgun, approaching the driver side of the car. "Fuck. The kid was just out of the academy a few months ago." The policeman leaned in to the vehicle for one last look at his partner and felt the cold steel of the M1911's barrel against his temple. "Sorry chief." Another gun shot echoed in the night.