This was about the tenth time John had take apart both of his guns in the last few hours. He reached over and grabbed his cellphone
2:03 AM it read. Sleep had been avoiding him, anxiety and nerves were getting the better of his mind, cleaning his guns seemed like it would bore him to sleep or at least lift some weight from his thoughts. The end result was the opposite of what he wanted, feeling even more awake, attentive, and his mind working harder than when he was just laying in bed. Especially to ensure that every screw was placed correctly and tightened just the right amount.
His hand jolted back from pain, an ash from the cigarette in his mouth found a lucky landing on John's bare skin. John had been a smoker from the age of fifteen to seventeen, then he quit. During his late eighteenth year was when he first got told about his assignment. They also informed him that he should start smoking because it'd help with his cover identity, and most gangsters couldn't afford fake or electronic cigarettes. John took one long, last drag and opened up the window next to him, the cold air bit at his face. The smoking danced and lifted into the late night, early morning air, like exhaling in the dead of winter. He tossed the cigarette butt out the window and watched it sail through the night, like the last lit torch of humanity, smashing on the cracked asphalt below, scattering ashes in a quick, amber colored light show, a Fourth of July firework without the bang. John slid the window shut, preventing anymore warmth from escaping. The smell of fresh night air lingered in the room though, almost like a pleasantly overdue meeting with an old friend, or a lost love...
"Love." As if the four letter word had any meaning to people these days. John had only ever "loved" one person. All of a sudden one day John found out she was moving, wouldn't say where, wouldn't return any calls, texts, emails, nothing. Just fell off the face of the Earth, disappeared from this bleak existence, like she never wanted to be there in the first place. He didn't even know whether to consider them still together, or broken up. She just meant so much to him... She was the fucking reason he even stopped smoking and tried to clean up his life in the first place...
John shook his head, trying to clear away these dark thoughts. He stood up from the couch, picked up his phone to check the time again.
2:58 AM. He walked over to his bed and let himself collapse onto it.
It only felt like a minute later that his cellphone started to vibrate spastically. John pried open his eyes and stretched out his arm to try and feel for his phone. Finally he clutched it and hit the button to stop the vibrating. He received a text message from the almighty leader herself. All it said was
Meeting today. Be there. "So much for sleeping in." John bitterly muttered to himself. He rolled out of bed and threw on his black t-shirt, camo pants, and black beanie. Though he didn't wrap his bandanas around his face yet, he stuck them in his pocket in the event he needed them later. John stuck his handgun in it's holster, slung his shotgun around his back, pocketed his lighter and a pack of cigarettes, and walked down the stairs of the apartment building and out onto the streets.
Early to arrive at the usual location, but not the first. Being new meat he didn't know any of the other gang members, he barely had even talked to Aurora enough to say he knew her. John placed himself on a curb and watched as more showed up, then eventually the head of the group. She gave her quick speech and stepped off her podium. Some of the gangsters dispersed, some stayed and chatted. John just sat in place, figured he'd see if someone might come to him first. He pulled out a cigarette and his lighter, stuck the stick in his mouth and lit the end. He let the first drag linger, then looked up and let it out in a puff. John looked around at everyone else, guessing he looked like the one loner in the group.