Hell In a HandbasketA gun went off somewhere in the distance, screaming voices erupted, and gunfire opened up like popcorn in a microwave. “Hm, I have an enemy now,” the lone assassin murmured to himself. He hadn’t taken the shot. The candidate lay dead on the ground, and Jack’s gut was turning. He had to admit, even for a pro, he was a little scared. His name was Jack Dameon, an assassin by choice, murderer by law. His hit count: eighty-six; miss count: zero. Technically, it was Staff Sergeant Jack Dameon, F.B.I., but only his employer—the U.S. Government--knew that. “Damn,” he said under his breath, “if I had only been oHell In a Handbasket
Intro to creative storyHe walks toward the empty expanse in front of him. Like lone car into the mojave desert, he walks slowly toward the vast ocean. Pelted by the cold, frothy sea mist, he walks forward into the sea, into the sea for the last swim he will ever take. John Scott is no more. It hasn't always been like this for John Scott, for a while he felt as though he was on top of the world. Head of a big company, millionaire, beautiful wife, 2 wonderful kids, and yet he had managed to lose it all.Intro to creative story
MOUTHPEICE!!
Euphoric
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CAUSE IM ON SPEED!! haha what?
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