The unsuspecting faces were the first things that stuck out to Cairo when he ordered Marcel to open fire at them. Their names, which he didn’t bother to remember, their surprised and pleasant faces, one of them even was in the middle of waving at them, all screamed their naivety as the three victims miss the tell-tale signs of their impending deaths.

The deafening staccato from Marcel’s automatic rifle rings in Cairo’s ears as he whips his own pistol from his lap and begins to fire salvo after salvo into their target’s car. The windows on the orange sedan bursts into pieces as bullets riddle the car. Cairo could see blood spurt from the driver as a round finds its way into the man’s arm. The three victims duck under the hail of gunfire as the crowd of pedestrians, previously leisurely enjoying their weekend, scramble for safety as the two cars barrel their way through them. It was a miraculous combination of Lance’s skill at driving and their incredible luck that no one “innocent” was hurt in that crossfire.

Rap, rap, rap.

Marcel continues to unload clip after clip of ammo into the orange vehicle as they dodge through the oncoming traffic. They reach another intersection when suddenly, their target’s car makes a keen turn into another street. The smell of burned rubber and exhausted brakes permeate the air as Cairo watches in despair as the orange automobile makes its escape.

“Don’t let them get away,” Cairo shouts.

“Shit,” Lance curses under his breath as he twists the steering wheel to its limit.

The car lurches. Cairo could feel his friend’s coup, already halfway in the air from all the intense driving, rise into the air and tip dangerously to the side. Just as Cairo thought he would be having a close conversation with the asphalt, Lance’s small car tips back the other way around and lands with a painful jolt.

Cairo quickly shakes himself out of the daze. That was too much of a close call.

As Lance steadily catches up to the orange sedan, racing past countless stores and curious onlookers, Cairo lowers the window down and sticks his arm out.

He had the perfect shot. They were going straight, in a parallel direction, with a direct line of sight to the back of their target’s head. With the wind blowing against his face, Cairo squeezes the trigger.

Click.

Nothing.

Cursing, Cairo retracts himself back into the car and examines the pistol. He stares with a mix of apprehension and amazement at the bullet jammed in the receiver. Cairo had taken extra steps to make sure his weapon was in pristine condition, yet here he sat with it double-feeding.

“That’s what happens when you buy cheap arsenal,” Marcel gloats, “You get what you paid for.”

“You know,” Cairo, shouts back as he attempts to remove the lodged bullet stuck in the side port of his handgun. “Fuck you.”

Lance curses as he swerves the car to avoid hitting a group of pedestrians. Their screams ring briefly in Cairo’s ear as they narrowly miss colliding into them. Then they were off again, chasing the orange sedan through back alleys and main roads as Marcel yells his need for a clear line of sight.

“Stop them now,” Lance warns, “we’re getting close to East Bank.”

“Pull up next to them,” Cairo orders. He was not about to lose them.

Cairo digs his fingers into the slot and tears at the stuck round. The cartridge flies out with a ping, as the slide slams shut. Cairo shoves in a new magazine and squeezes the trigger. With his ears ringing from the concussion, his hands trembling from the adrenaline, and his senses heightened from the experience, Cairo watches as the bullets travel to their destination. Of course, he couldn’t see them, yet Cairo couldn’t help but visualize his rounds soaring through the air and into the window of the sedan.

Then, the rounds connect and the windshield shatters into a million shards.

One of the slugs hits the driver. Cairo gazes in astonishment as the head explodes from impact and the rest of the body freezes. The car itself swerves just in time, barely missing Lance, Marcel and him. So close was the distance, that Cairo was able to see the terror painted on the occupants of the doomed vehicle. Their fear of the inevitable, justified by the ear shattering crash as the orange sedan rams into another parked car, materializes to life as the sedan rises high up in the air before impacting itself into a building.

Lance parks the car a few feet away from the scene as the three of them inspect the damage. Onlookers begin crowding around the wreckage, dazed from the random and grotesque scene unfolding in front of their very eyes. Someone had grabbed a fire extinguisher and was busy dousing fires with its milky contents. Cairo stares at Lance and Marcel for a brief moment before they all simultaneously reach into their pockets to retrieve bandanas.

Cairo meticulously ties the rag over his face.

It was time to finish this.