[h1][b][u][color=9e0b0f]"First-Degree" Donny[/color][/u][/b][/h1]

[i]Donny walked out of the UPS with his package, and into the Starbucks next door. He stood in line. In front of him was a fat guy with glasses. Donny smiled noncommittally at the back of the man's neck, staring hard to make Lardo nervous. The fat guy edged from foot to foot, peeking behind out of the corner of his eye. Donny winked. Fatty winced and turned his eyes back to the pretty girl behind the register.[/i]

[b]"One triple extra large caramel machiato with a double chocolate pump. Oh, and three croissants. And three blueberry scones please."[/b]

[i]With a smile the girl took fatty's dough and relayed his coffee order to her companions, whilst she retrieved the food items from their little tanning beds. As fatty walked past Donny, the ginger let a few choice words slip into the fellow's pudgy right ear. Just loudly enough that others nearby could hear too.[/i]

[b][color=f26522]"Yuh gawn eatchyasuhlf intah yuh early grahvvv withuh foke n' spoon boy. Think Atkins."[/color][/b]

[i]Fatty's face turned red as he hurried out the door. The cashier glared at the rudeness. Donny stepped up to the register and pulled off his fedora, giving the cashier his best perv grin.[/i]

[b][color=f26522]"Medium ruhst, black uhs night, m'kay girl?"[/color][/b]

[i]The girl rung up his order for a simple black coffee and extended her hand for payment. Donny placed his debit card down on the counter, ignoring her hand. She fruitlessly tried to pick it up off the flat surface for a moment before sliding it to the edge of the counter.[/i]

[b]"Would you like cash back Sir?"[/b]

[i]At this, Donny leaned back on his heels, stroking his chin in thought. Behind him, several other customers grumbled impatiently. After fifteen seconds Donny leaned forwards again, nodding.[/i]

[b][color=f26522]"Ayuh, twentuh bucks."[/color][/b]

[i]The girl removed a crisp twenty and closed the register, offering it to Donny.[/i]

[b][color=f26522]"Cannuh get thahut in ones, missus?"[/color][/b]

[i]The line behind him was piling up. The cashier hastily reopened the register and sorted out the bills, running out of ones in the process. The last dollar had to be given in quarters. Donny accepted with no complaint, though the cashier by now seemed pretty pissed. After taking another half minute to slowly shuffle the bills into his wallet, Donny paced out of the way to wait for his beverage. 

He walked out of the Starbucks and crossed the street to his white minivan. It was parked next to a fire hydrant. He cruised casually through red lights. He did not use his blinkers. With that faint poetic smirk, he gave the finger to whomever blared their horns. The only time he eased up was when cops were around. He had a police radio. They didn't know that. He pulled up in front of a gas station seven minutes later, parked up on the curb, and returned with two packs of unfiltered Camel soft packs and a Zippo. He'd need cigarettes tonight. That, and the high powered x800 ShadowHawk flashlight he had received from Amazon. 

[img]http://www.infinitepowersolutions.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/Shadowhawk-Tactical-X800-Flashlight.jpg[/img]
[/i]


[h1][b][u][color=9e0b0f]Gotham Park, 11:00 P.M[/color][/u][/b][/h1]

[b][color=39b54a]"C'mon Turk, where's the shit?"[/color][/b]

[b][color=ec008c]"I dunno man, I dunno! I swear to fuckin' God I dunno!"[/color][/b]

[color=fff200]"You'll be bleedin' out the ass if you don't tell us where the shit is, you weasel fuck."[/color]

[i]Hank pulled out a bowie knife, and held it beneath Turk's chin. With him was his partner Lensman, who had a 9mm holstered in his pants. Drug dealers. Turk lay at their feet, shivering with pain. Three teeth were gone, his left arm was broken, and his eyes were swollen shut. The three men were huddled beneath an oak, out of the light from any lampposts. Turk, being the dumbass that he was, had gone and blown the stash. Hank and Lensman hauled him to his feet, and began shuffling him towards a dark patch of bushes. Good place to hide a body for the night. Lensman almost missed the sight of the watcher. A figure wearing a dark overcoat and fedora, leaning easily against another oak twenty feet away. Lensman immediately dropped Turk and took two steps towards the figure, reaching for his piece. Donny looked up, an unlit cigarette crooked between his lips. Lensman stopped short, hand hovering over his pistol. Hank stood quietly beside the fallen Turk, eyes wide. He hadn't brought a gun.
Donny shifted his weight off the tree, withdrawing a Zippo lighter from his pocket. Lensman stiffened, extending his empty left hand as if to ward off the ginger.[/i]

[b][color=39b54a]"Easy there Donny, easy there... We ain't got shit with you. What's between you and Larry don't concern us."[/color][/b]

[i]Donny flicked open the Zippo, his creamy features illuminated from below by the wavering orange glow. He lit his cigarette, and two gouts of smoke streamed from his nostrils as he spoke.[/i]

[b][color=f26522]"Ayuh, but a man's gawtuh have himsuhlf prince'a'paawls. Larruh skipp'd out awnuh ownin' up fuh loosuhn at thuh races, an' seein' as he's dead n' all, thuh best men inherruht thuh damage."[/color][/b]

[i]There would be no compromise. Not because Lensman and Hank didn't have the money. Donny didn't run the races because he liked to collect money. He did it because he only wanted an excuse. A bright light flooded into Lensman's eyes, and suddenly all he could see was a glaring white tunnel. That was one fucking bright flashlight. His palm slapped down onto the grip of his gun. At the same time a noise like thunder rocked the park. Lensman's head opened up like a broken egg and he crumpled, white and red leaking from where his face had been. Hank figured the white stuff was brains. The flashlight clicked off and Hank stepped back, aghast. In Donny's right hand was the biggest gun he had ever seen outside of the movies. He opened his mouth to make an excuse, and another report shook the park as his jaw vanished into a rainbow mist of gore, and the back of his neck was reduced to a bone-flecked soup. Turk rolled and scrambled sightlessly, yelling as his broken arm failed to support his weight, sure that he would be next. He was not mistaken. He wasn't a loose end, and Donny had never seen him before. But damned if he wasn't right there in plain sight, and Mr. Booth's trigger finger was itching something fierce. Turk took one in the back and he contorted against the damp grass, mouth agape in a silent yawn of mortal agony. A second later both eyes and the bridge of his nose exploded into the turf, which in turn erupted with a splurt of black dirt as the bullet passed through his skull and buried itself four feet into the ground. 

The van rocked on its wheels as Donny lunged through the open door and into the driver's seat, black shoe slamming the accelerator to the floor. With a gun that loud, you had to make tracks fast. As he sped along through the city, Donny contemplated how business was going. Not too well. He had less than nine grand left, and most of that would eventually be funneled into sustaining his penthouse suite. Living high isn't cheap, and neither is living dangerously. Donny slowed to a stop outside of a dark warehouse in the city dregs, and flicked the butt of his cigarette out the window. He needed a new employer, one with a strong reputation and plenty of odd jobs to dole out. Donny slid out from his vehicle and leaned up against the side of the warehouse. He'd go home in the early hours. He was still too jazzed from the shooting to be tired. Perhaps he'd just bide his time here for a little bit. Enjoy the evening breeze, the distant city lights. Revel in the fresh memory of those white brains soaking into the ground. Was this too edgy? Donny thought so. Time to loosen up. He pulled off his pants, shirt, and jacket. Beneath his usual garb he had on a light blue tank top and a pair of orange dolphin shorts.[/i]

[img]http://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0690/5793/products/AFTE_dolphin_shorts_coral_navy_3096_1024x1024.jpg?v=1457705166[/img]

[i]Donny began warming up with some squats, his horribly pale legs plain for all to see. A look of studious concentration permeated his pasty puss.[/i]