[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjYwLjc1ZWE3Yy5RMkZ0WlhKdmJpQkRZVzF3WW1Wc2JBLCwuMgAA/operational-amplifier.regular.png[/img][/center] Pico Boulevard. Pico was essentially the red light district of this part of Korven, being about a half mile away from the bustling sub-district of New Osaka. A few vendors were lined up along the street, selling anything from kebabs to trinkets to knives. Girls strutted up and down the sidewalk, propositioning men and women alike to see if they wanted their services; some accepted, a few didn't have the money, and the rest just shook their heads in disgust and wandered on. Cameron Campbell watched the bustling activity of the street, chuckling to himself for a moment before tossing his cigarette onto the asphalt. His sneakers extinguished the still burning cancer stick as he walked down the road, replaying the events of last night in his mind. He had gotten thoroughly plastered, and some suit business suit type had approached him and asked him to handle a job. Some business rival of his or something or other. It had been years since he did any assassinations in the business world, though he always missed capping corrupt corporate fucks. Businessmen were never his type of people, greedy and lazy, extorting those in lower positions and reaping the profits afterwards. Morvai would be a lot better without them, especially Dicktator Joe, the fat bastard. But enough thinking. It was time to act. The club was a block away, and the glowing green neon sign lit up the dark street. The booming bass of the music playing within the nightclub shook the sidewalks nearby, and a surly bouncer stood at the head of a long line to enter, arms crossed. [color=lightgreen][b]"Hm. Looks like I'll be taking the back,"[/b][/color] Cam muttered to himself wryly, before slipping into the back alley and entering the club through the supply room exit. He maneuvered his way past various boxes filled with booze, cigarettes, and less legal things, before opening the door and heading into the club proper. [center][hider=TECHNOIR][img]https://s31.postimg.org/mgxw0mujv/technoir.jpg[/img][/hider] [i][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQntm4ySQ34](Recommended Listening)[/url][/i][/center] This place reeks of broken dreams and alcoholism, not just from the patrons but from the bartenders, the girls dancing onstage, hell, even the guards. Cam felt he'd be doing a favor killing every last one of them. Freeing them from the torment of their lives. But that's not his job. His job is to take out some fat, greedy, selfish snob. He looked at the photo one last time. Middle-aged, greying ginger hair in a combover, a staggeringly large gut. This guy'd be easy to spot. Cam scanned through the club, spotting the guy sitting with two women who were half his age on either side of him. Their faces said 'I love you'. Their eyes said 'get me out of here'. The man didn't catch onto their eyes. Cam approached the table, watching the fat man grab at both women's crotches in sync. One gave him a slap. The other a sucker punch straight to the jaw. The women, disgusted, got up and left. He looked hurt almost, pathetic, like a puppy lost in the rain. His day was about to get a whole helluva lot worse. Cam walked up to the man. The man looked up at him, sadness in his eyes. [color=burlywood][b]"... Yeah? What is it?"[/b][/color] Wordlessly, Cam pulled out his pistol and fired off three rounds into the man's face. It didn't quite blow his head off. It made his head into ground beef. No screams erupted. No patrons ran away. No one even cast a glance at the scene. They were all drunk as an Irishman or high as a kite, or, in some cases, both. The guards, however, noticed. Cam burst into a sprint, running back to the supply room. Two guards followed, guns at the ready but not risking a shot, no, not while he's zigzagging around patrons. Any collateral damage and they'd get their pay docked, and they didn't want that. The door was turned into splinters by Cam's bulky frame, and the other didn't stand a chance against his running kick. Soon he was running through the alley, veins pumping battery acid and muscles screaming for rest. Shots went off behind him. One got him right in the shoulder. He kept running. Eventually he lost them. It took ducking into more than a few sidealleys, and clambering onto more than one rooftop, but he did it. And now he didn't know where the hell he was. [color=lightgreen][b]"Not like I was planning on going home tonight anyway,"[/b][/color] Cam laughed, shaking his head. He hissed slightly in pain as he rolled his shoulders, bullet still in there. Damn. Wasn't a clean penetration. He'd need to get it out somehow. [color=lightgreen][b]"Well... At least it was good exercise."[/b][/color]