Part: I
October 31st 1983 Los Angeles, CA.
“Fuck.”
In an abandoned building somewhere in downtown LA, Daniel sat against the wall of a small office, with a gun in his hand, a suitcase in the other, and a bullet lodged deep in his abdomen.
The small office he at sat in was once formal and very orderly. It had a 1940s style design that once belonged to the big boss of whatever business was being run there. Now it remains desolate, and in shambles, with papers thrashed about, paint peeling all around, rusting filing cabinets and an overturned wooden desk that once stood in the center of the room. The broken windows o both sides of the room allowed the moonlit night to beam in through the glass and glisten in his blood.
“Ungh…what the hell happened back there,” he grunted. “Federal agents came in like lightening.”
As he sat there, looking up at the ceiling, he lit a cigarette and began to ponder. How did they know about the meet? Why did they immediately open fire? Most importantly, what could be in the suitcase?
The back of his mind urged him to open it, to take just one peak, but that would violate his orders.
“What the hell is in this thing?”
Before he could come to a conclusion, he was snapped out of thoughts by the sound of footsteps running up the hall. They found him. He loaded the last clip of his 9mm PT92.
“Damn, ungh…they’re coming.”
Part: II
October 25th 1983 Miami, FL.
Mr. Moreno, wearing his favorite beige linen suit, leaned over the balcony of his mansion to take in the beautiful Miami view and enjoy a thirst-quenching Cuba Libré. The neon city lights can captivate even the most notorious Miami mob boss. After all, this was his city.
“Who do you want dead this time Moreno,” Daniel said as he leaned his back against the balcony and lit a cigarette.
Daniel is a professional hitman who Mr. Moreno constantly employed. Whenever someone stood in the way of Mr. Moreno, whether it was rival mobsters or bold politicians attempting to wage war, he knew just the man to hire. He had a well-known reputation for swiftness and cleanliness in his assassinations. On the streets, Daniel’s work dubbed him the name, “The Miami Ghost”.
Mr. Moreno laughed, “You know me to well pana, but there will be no killing this time. Only if they get in your way of course.”
“Hmm…Can you explain to me what exactly I’ll be doing? I don’t have all night Moreno.”
Mr. Moreno refilled his cup and proceeded to explain the mission to Daniel. He would have to pick up a suitcase stolen by rival Russian mobsters containing something of great value. He didn’t explain what was in the case, only that it was something of great importance to him. The payment would be half a million in cash. Hearing this made the cigarette fall from Daniels mouth. Half a million! With that amount of money he would finally be able to retire. He would be able to leave the states and start over somewhere new. He didn’t like killing but it was the only thing he knew, the only thing he was really good at, and now with half a million in cash, all his worries would be over.
“Sounds simple enough. You have a deal.”
“Excellent choice pana. I thought for sure you would not accept.”
“Who would turn down half a million for such an easy mission?
Leaving the mansion Daniel stopped to ask where the meet would go down. Mr. Moreno took puff of his cigar and grinned.
“Los Angeles.”
Part: III
October 31st 1983 Los Angeles, CA.
Sorry about the formatting everyone, here is a better one.