Somewhere on the Streets of Port-Au-Prince, Monday Morning
Peter didn't take the car to work very often. His security experts had assured him that if he kept using the same car, eventually someone would catch on to it and put a hit out on him. So... he avoided it. Most of the time.
And then sometimes you just had to make an entrance-- like when big time diplomats from several other countries were assembling for a party, and you wanted to make them believe that you were worth talking to.
He sat back and eyed his driver from behind (another reason to avoid using the car too much - drivers were expensive). "What's your name anyway?" he said, but the guy didn't answer. Same thing every time. This is why cabs were a better idea - at least those drivers were so busy all day they had to get chatty or lose their minds.
Peter sighed and leaned his arm against the car door. He looked outside, but it was... boring. Storefront. Apartment complex. Another storefront. Cars. Bikes. People. More cars. More people. More...
... was that car headed straight for him?
"Holy shit! Look out--"
His fingers fell onto the handle of the door and unthinkingly - or maybe, realizing somewhere in his lizard brain that there was no way the driver could compensate for this that quickly - opened the door, shoved his way out, and hit the road hard, rolling back, his head smacking against the pavement a moment later.
Blackness.
[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay and tbc, laaa. ]]
And then sometimes you just had to make an entrance-- like when big time diplomats from several other countries were assembling for a party, and you wanted to make them believe that you were worth talking to.
He sat back and eyed his driver from behind (another reason to avoid using the car too much - drivers were expensive). "What's your name anyway?" he said, but the guy didn't answer. Same thing every time. This is why cabs were a better idea - at least those drivers were so busy all day they had to get chatty or lose their minds.
Peter sighed and leaned his arm against the car door. He looked outside, but it was... boring. Storefront. Apartment complex. Another storefront. Cars. Bikes. People. More cars. More people. More...
... was that car headed straight for him?
"Holy shit! Look out--"
His fingers fell onto the handle of the door and unthinkingly - or maybe, realizing somewhere in his lizard brain that there was no way the driver could compensate for this that quickly - opened the door, shoved his way out, and hit the road hard, rolling back, his head smacking against the pavement a moment later.
Blackness.
[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay and tbc, laaa. ]]