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The city of Phoenix, Arizona was a slippery mess. It has been raining nonstop since last week, which was very unusual for the big city. The rain was causing problems... interfering with certain types of packages that needed to be shipped. But more importantly, it was getting in the way of Roman Santiago finding his sister.
Outside in the cold rain, Roman stood there leaning against a tall light pole, his body drenched in water as he watched from afar the men coming in and out of the busy warehouse. The night sky was the mixture of blue and purple, the moon shining with the bright city lights. Roman craned his neck to the side, once a familiar green BMW pulled up. He took one final drag of his cigarette, before tossing it over his shoulder.
Leaning off the light pole, Roman marched his way in the warehouse's direction. The only thing on his mind was getting in there and finding out where the hell his sister had disappeared to. "Get in, recover information, leave." That was his motto, and he'd stick by it... on some occasions.
His tactical boots dug into the earth with each step he took, water splashing in every direction. In his eyes, there was nothing but determination.
"Name and purpose?" The hefty man guarding the warehouse entrance asked when Roman came into view. Roman kept quiet, his eyes trained on the door that would lead him to answers. "I said."The guard walked up to Roman's face, breathing as though he just ran a mile. "Name and purpose." He repeated, his hand itching to pull out his gun.
"Move, or you'll be moved." Roman threatened, finally looking up at the brown man. A frown planted itself on his face as he looked at the man intently. The guard glared at him, not liking Roman's threat. He reached for his gun, but it was too late. Roman's hand lifted, striking the guard in his chubby neck, damaging his windpipe. The hefty man wheezed and reached for his neck instantly. He fell onto his knees, trying to breathe. Roman took the semiautomatic pistol away from him, before looking down at the dying man. "How come you Americans eat like you've got free health care?" He asked, not waiting for a reply.
Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Roman strolled into the warehouse-like he owned the place.
"Who the fuck is you?" One man on the inside asked, confused. Men hurried towards him, gathering around him in a circle. They were ready to attack at any means necessary, and so was Roman.
Roman chuckled humorlessly, watching them. A smirk tugged on his lips before he placed his index finger there. "Shh." He whispered, like the lunatic he was. "I'm death." He answered, raising the gun to the man's head. "Everyone calls me death." Roman pulled the trigger before his eyes cast down on everyone else. "Who else what's to get in my way?" Everyone raised their hands in surrender, slowly backing away. "Thought so." He mumbled. "Where's your boss?"
The few guys who hadn't pissed themselves pointed ahead of the vending machines.
