A perfectly ordinary day hung over L.A.
It was only a short ways past noon. Just a small pocket of people knew, but a trial had just concluded in one of the courthouse's numerous ever-interesting courtrooms.
Meanwhile, a small and rather unremarkable car sat parked near the grand building's front entrance. In its driver's seat was a young man, his facial features covered by a hood, sunglasses, and a bandanna. His disguise gave him the appearance of a textbook street thug, but in truth, he was anything but.
Just an hour ago, he'd been minding his own business in the downtown area when a similarly hooded figure approached him rapidly from an alleyway. The unknown individual had directed him back into the grimy alley, muttering indistinct but effective threats as they did so. Once they were out of sight, the aggressor had shoved a box into the young man's hands.
"What's this...?" he'd asked, his nervous voice shaking.
The individual had issued him yet another threat before instructing him to take the contents of the box to the courthouse.
There had been more to the instructions, but the nervous young man in the front seat of the car only wondered what the hell they could possibly be intended to accomplish.
His cell phone buzzed, making him jump. A text message appeared on its screen, instructing him to prepare the contents of the box and wait for the right moment.
Inside the box was a bizarre sort of machine, which at a single button's press, unfolded into a projectile launcher of some kind.
-Watch the front entrance-
That was all the text message offered him to clarify his objective. He hadn't given his phone number to the person in the alleyway, and that made him frightened enough to go along with whatever their plan was.
He readied the device, aiming it out his window and toward the courthouse's front steps. A crowd was beginning to filter out the doors.
He started to panic. What if the device launched some kind of bomb, and it killed all those innocent people leaving the courthouse?
The phone buzzed again. This time, a picture. He looked the photo over. It was labeled as "Target", and showed an image of a very distinctively dressed woman.
One last instruction appeared.
-Fire once at the target at the first opening-
The young man in the car had no idea of the target's identity, but those surrounding her as she left the courthouse certainly did.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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