Post by Miami on Nov 25, 2013 7:39:19 GMT -5
April 16th, 1989. It's now almost like Jacket is fine with killing people; letting off steam. As he walked down the hall, he could hear a familiar beeping. This time, it didn't make him cringe, he was used to it, and this was another job he had to do. He pressed the red button on his answering machine, "This is 'Thomas' from the methadone clinic. We've scheduled you a short meeting for tonight. We're at North West 184th Street, apartment 105. And don't worry... We know discretion is of importance to our clients."
Jacket looked to the side, noticing a Pig mask on his lounge. A tag was next to it, "Aubrey."
Jacket looked to the side, noticing a Pig mask on his lounge. A tag was next to it, "Aubrey."