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I held the brown paper bag in my right hand, my left hand occupied with my beretta as I made my way down the small alley way. It was only me out here, it being around 1:30 in the morning on a weekday, not a time where many people would be out which was something I've learned as years passed. Business was best done when less were watching, though for a hidden effect, having large crowds around could help with not getting caught. Not that I got caught up as is, but in order to be successful, you always think worst case scenario.
Throwing my head back, I took a swig of the Hennessy that sat in the bag, taking it straight back like it was water as my steps slowed down from nearing the entry way. What I was doing was something to be a quick little confrontation in response to whatever was going on with Robyn. Things slowed down, but that wasn't enough for me. Not while my child still happened to be a target and I still didn't know who chose to do that, and not while the safety of someone who I'm supposed to be with was in question.
Glancing both ways to make sure I was clear, I raised my foot to kick the door open. It was hard metal, but it still swung wide from the impact. The locks were rusted badly, showing anyone with a brain or knowledge that they weren't good. It took nothing to open up, which also showed that who I was about to meet seemed to be a rookie. Easier for me, but only further proving my theory that whatever was going on was borderline a threat. A threat because they worked on action, but borderline because they only worked on action. Having no clear plans to back up what they were doing.
This was light work now, being so far deep in that I could do this single handedly no matter who all was in here. I didn't scope out the building because I felt no need, didn't ask for backup or help because I knew what I was doing. If this happened to be the last thing I ever did then it was fine with me, death would come either way and it wasn't something I was scared of, rather something that I've come to terms with over the years. Something that would come someday, from somebody since in reality, I wasn't immortal and would never be.
"Dirty ass area." I mumbled, gripping the beretta while placing the Hennessy down.
Living conditions: Terrible. Whether it be a meeting house, a warehouse, or someone's house, it was dirty and not at all up to par. Further showing the amateur ways of it all, keeping a dirty space in your home of business was dumb. One raid and all of your shit is out in the open, giving you no time to react and just like that you're down.
Something I learned when Robyn set me up, and something that stuck with me years later. She was smarter than me around that time, knowing exactly how to bait which she did. Being alert and thinking on her feet, something she clearly lacked these days, but as a significant other and partner, that was something that I worked to fill in. Just like how she worked to fill in the pieces of my not so sane ways, though she had her own mental issues herself. She knew how to keep it on lock to keep me grounded.
