Sometimes-you-just-gotta-dip

You guys back out and exit Pier 40 without a moment’s hesitation. You stop at a gas station about 20 miles down the road and take a breather. The adrenaline has worn off and the come down has left you wondering lots of things. Was there anyone else in that building? Were they just random street garbage or were they connected to anyone? Were there cameras anywhere that could have caught the van or the shooting?

The sound of Dorsey opening a couple bags of chips interrupts your thoughts. Looks like he worked up an appetite wrestling the gun from that wanna-be ork. The chips are gone quicker than you guys took out all those gunners. He tops it off by chugging a 2-liter of soda. No time to think, you’ve got to focus on what’s ahead.

You leave the cool breeze of the bay for the foothills of West Seattle near Westwood. Your destination is a town in transition. Once a quaint small town atmosphere this neighborhood is gentrifying, ironically due precisely to the small town appeal to corporate commuters. In another decade it will be just another modern suburb, with hip chain coffee houses pretending to look like small town mom and pop shops, the very ones which were run out of business.

Dorsey directs Jordan to a street on the edge of town. There you stop at a small one-story building overlooking a couple dozen moving trucks.

The sign above reads, ‘Move it Buster’

Sometimes-you-just-gotta-dip

Ronin DarkMagus