"Perro!" Cesar adjusted his sunglasses, pushing them back up to the bridge of his nose as he awaited the arrival of his friend. He was seated inside a 1963 Chevrolet Impala which featured a primarily black paint job, with gold coloured rims and a license plate which read "VAT0NO1". The seats were made of leather, and the dashboard itself featured a smooth design. "Mierda, Perro!" Sure enough, audible clicks could be heard as a fully grown Doberman Pinscher dashed through the alleyway, jumping into the vacant passenger seat. Cesar promptly leaned to the right to pull the door shut and followed this by quietly rubbing behind the dog's left ear. "Shit, ese. I was tempted to let the fuckin' dog warden pick up your slobberin' ass. Don't take so long next time, huh?" Of course, the dog didn't respond, but Cesar didn't mind. Pressing his foot against the pedal, the car acclerated forwards and began to navigate it's way through the streets of Brooklyn.
Reaching down towards an already opened can of beer resting in the car's cupholder with his free hand, Cesar brought it up to his lips, swigging more of it's contents before holding the can out so that Perro could finish it off. The dog promptly lapped it up and Cesar opted to dispose of the now-empty can by tossing it at a nearby police officer who was on foot patrol. "Come at me, pendejo!" Accelerating the car even further, he smirked as the officer could do nothing but attempt to report the incident over the radio, but by now the car's license plate was well out of viewing distance. Passing an attourney's office building, Cesar grinned once again as he spotted a familiar figure stood atop a billboard mounted to the building's wall, throwing up a graffiti mural with an array of paint cans. He sounded the horn, throwing the figure a nod before going on his way.
The figure was Anon, a notorious graff artist who, for the past few years, had made quite a name for himself amongst the New York Police Department. You see, he'd been responsible for several dozen pieces across the entirety of the city, from Manhattan to the Bronx, all of them had seen at least a dozen pieces. And yet the department had never managed to capture him, as he'd always managed to writhe free of their grasp should they even manage to get close to him. More than a few officers had ended up in the hospital with a few injuries, nothing fatal, but still concerning. Now Anon, or Nate as his true name was, had been working on another piece in response to the arrest of one of his friends for doing a few pieces in Brooklyn. Anon's piece in question depicted several chimpanzees in NYPD uniform and wielding bananas instead of guns and batons, chasing after several teenagers carrying paint cans whilst in the background an elderly woman was held up by a smartly dressed man with a snake's head in lieu of a human one, robbing the elderly woman of her purse.
The piece was quickly finished off, only for the sound of a helicopter and sirens in the distance to become audible to his ears. Realising that somebody had likely took notice of his work on the attourney office's billboard, he firmly placed his hands upon a nearby pipe, gripping onto it and beginning to clamber his way up. When he reached the top, the sirens had grown even closer, and the helicopter could be seen overhead. The paintjob and printing was all too familiar, and the voice that bellowed out from it confirmed any doubts that one might have had. "This is the NYPD, you are surrounded. Surrender yourself, there is no chance of escape. Place your hands on your head and get on the knees, this is your only warning." Meanwhile, on the rooftop across the street, several snipers could be seen prepping their equipment, and he could make out a series of loud, metallic footsteps as a SWAT team made their way up a nearby platform.
Anon smirked, before turning his back, disregarding the fact that the NYPD were assembling against him. The first few SWAT officers made their way up onto the roof, calling out in loud, authorative voices. "Freeze! Hands behind your head, get on the ground!" Anon ignored them, continuing on with a brisk walk before breaking into a sprint. "He's running! Take him down!" They opened fire on him, unwilling to take any chances after numerous attempts of non-lethal apprehension had ended only in the injury of several officers and the destruction of police equipment. Anon briskly ducked as he moved evasively, jumping over or sliding under the ventilation shafts and AC Units dotted across the rooftop and using them as a temporary means of cover. Just up ahead could be seen a gap where an alleyway existed between the rooftop and the rooftop across from it. Viewing this as his ticket out, Anon reached for his retracted staff and clicked it, causing it to protract, and followed such by gripping onto the end of a drain pipe which led down to the bottom of the alleyway, sliding down it.
A maintenance hatch could be seen in front of him, and wasting no time he broke the rusted lock with a single strike from the staff and proceeded to prize the hatch open, jumping down into the network of subway tunnels below the city surface.