Thief With A Bike ~ Krii7y

~~~ { 20 } ~~~

John once again awoke to the sound of gunshots ringing outside. Maybe a gang infested area wasn't the best spot for John live?

He instinctively reached for his switchblade, and glock tossed precariously on his bedside table. John had dealt with people in the way before. He'd never down right kill a man, and never really wanted to hurt anyone, but John had some violent tendencies of his own.

Once the barrage of bullets had ceased, and John felt like he could look out his window without being shot at, he peaked around his curtain into the moonlight.

The gun was obviously full automatic with the reverting RATATATATATATATATA John could hear from a mile away, but he wasn't a mile away, and it shook him out of his sleep so bad, he was instinctively reaching for weapons.

In truth, Johns scarily sharp switchblade was always hooked to his belt, and his gun was always on his person. He wasn't dumb, and Chicago was known for frivolous gang associations, and violence.

There had been relentless shootings in this area in particular because a nearby gang was having trouble with the 'hoods'. This gang seemed more violent than the one Smit was part off, less human trafficking, more gangster bullshit.

Really it was all bullshit.

John could care less about their crackshack gang, all John loved in life was fast bikes, and sexy cars... and Smit.

John had also decided he would talk to Droid, and ask what really happened to Smit. He felt like he was intruding into Smit's life, but couldn't help but be curious.

Today, Smit suggested clubbing at first, to which John quickly denied with a: 

I don't want to be blackout drunk at 4 in the afternoon, Smit, but we can later babe. 😏

Smit absolutely loved when John texted him like that, the only reason John knew that is because Smit said it straight to his face. He found it so odd that Smit had no much courage in himself to say weird, and sometimes offensive things, and not care what others say about it.

Maybe everyone should be like Smit.

Actually, take that back, we don't need everyone making vulgar comments about Eli's ass, even though Eli started the conversation about that.

Eli was such a dumbfuck John found himself lost on how anyone could be that stupid.

Apparently Swag was worse than him, and John wasn't sure if he wanted to meet him.

John looked out into the moonlight, which was quite bright compared to usual. No one was there, but a car quite far away from his window had three bullet impacts on the side.

Great.

John never had a problem with this before, because he wasn't involved, but getting caught in the crossfire seemed more than likely to happen at this point.

Does Smit live in his garage? Now that was a question.

John had no idea why the thought randomly crossed his mind, but now it had him wondering. John never knew where Smit really lived. Maybe he just lived in a mansion on the hill near his garage? Probably.

John could imagine a whole chairlift to get down because Smit's lazy ass probably didn't want to walk that far. That thought was quickly contradicted by the memory of Smit's very lean body.

Suddenly John didn't want that memory anymore, for multiple reasons, the main one being obvious.

Speaking of Smit, they had a whole day planned ahead of them, with of course clubbing to end the day off.