Post by Jack Malloy on Jun 3, 2009 17:09:52 GMT
Malloy vaulted over the low, concrete barrier that ringed the Car Park's first parking level, casting his eyes up and down its length with a certain nervous thoroughness. Nothing but burnt out wrecks and windblown trash. He let out a long, heartfelt sigh of relief, and loosened his grip on the Glock in his right hand.
Straightening up, Malloy started for the "UP" ramp in an easy jog, desperate to get this particular little, dangerous task out of the way quickly. It was always a bitch how, given his proficiency with firearms and natural charisma, this was always his job - no-one else with the kahunas to attempt it, ostensibly.
The lights in the Police Station had been flickering lately. Now, in the old days this wouldn't pose too much of a problem, just meant Williamsburg's famously temperamental utilities workers were on strike again. These days, however, with all the lights and electrics running off car batteries and portable generators, it meant one of these was running out of power, or fuel.....
And that meant a near-suicide run into the Car Park. Jack Malloy had to check the cars, starting from the top, looking for ones that had escaped being burnt or wrecked, and still had batteries with power inside. And the easiest way to check that? Hotwiring and/or jumpstarting the cars. Which obviously made a fair bit of noise, and attracted the neighbourhoods less friendly denizens to him like flies to shit.
Malloy reached the top floor finally, the battery charger a dead weight in his hand, the jumper cables wrapped around his right shoulder, the Glock hanging loose from his hand. Placing the charger down, he holstered the Glock and made to light a cigarette, eager to get a quick rest before he started making noise.
Up here, the rioters and looters hadn't made as much of an impact - there were still several obviously untouched cars, lots of choice with too little time. Malloy clenched the cigarette in his lips, and inhaled to light it.
*Which to start with....the big, old model Sedan, or the shiny new 4x4 smeared with dust and grime?*
Straightening up, Malloy started for the "UP" ramp in an easy jog, desperate to get this particular little, dangerous task out of the way quickly. It was always a bitch how, given his proficiency with firearms and natural charisma, this was always his job - no-one else with the kahunas to attempt it, ostensibly.
The lights in the Police Station had been flickering lately. Now, in the old days this wouldn't pose too much of a problem, just meant Williamsburg's famously temperamental utilities workers were on strike again. These days, however, with all the lights and electrics running off car batteries and portable generators, it meant one of these was running out of power, or fuel.....
And that meant a near-suicide run into the Car Park. Jack Malloy had to check the cars, starting from the top, looking for ones that had escaped being burnt or wrecked, and still had batteries with power inside. And the easiest way to check that? Hotwiring and/or jumpstarting the cars. Which obviously made a fair bit of noise, and attracted the neighbourhoods less friendly denizens to him like flies to shit.
Malloy reached the top floor finally, the battery charger a dead weight in his hand, the jumper cables wrapped around his right shoulder, the Glock hanging loose from his hand. Placing the charger down, he holstered the Glock and made to light a cigarette, eager to get a quick rest before he started making noise.
Up here, the rioters and looters hadn't made as much of an impact - there were still several obviously untouched cars, lots of choice with too little time. Malloy clenched the cigarette in his lips, and inhaled to light it.
*Which to start with....the big, old model Sedan, or the shiny new 4x4 smeared with dust and grime?*
