Ever since Jacket left Miami there was no doubt he couldn't find himself a normal life again. The news of what he's done traveled long and far, all the way to D.C where he only got himself in more trouble , Given less then he was in previously but trouble none the less. Trouble with the Payday Gang, spending his days with fancy business men making their cash robbing banks and selling coke.

After a particularly big score the gang needed to lie low, a Joyride around the states wasn't necessarily the best way to go about it but they were confident they'd handle themselves. Though years had passed since Jackets time in Miami, his stories would not be forgotten. Hell he was still considered an enemy to several gangs in that shithole he used to call home. One of which, Being yours.

So when the night came where you'd gotten news that a man running around in a varsity jacket and a rooster mask was running around with city folk you couldn't pass up the chance to take a shot or two at the man. You worked so damn hard for this, He wasn't gonna overshadow you now.

You'd found the vehicle they were in pretty easily, the men in suits stuck out like sore thumbs, the obvious clown masks in their laps didn't help the case either. Jacket was in the back, sitting between two of them, There were at least five clowns. Outnumbered or not you were here for the sixth one, Jacket.

When the night came you finally caught up to the vehicle, an obviously way too expensive Cadillac with its roof, stupidly down for the ride, speeding through the city of Jackets hometown, you had one of your members hit the gas to keep up, driving alongside the car.

They weren't oblivious to this of course, the man driving, Dallas. He glanced over, Revving his engine as warning to your armed group. The sound was nothing but encouragement however as you grabbed your semi-auto pistol, sliding open the sun roof of your heavily tinted vehicle to peak out.