Decker stopped at the only place he could meditate. The shooting range. Strange but true he loved to go clay pigeon shooting. When he got off he noticed a sign on the back of his bike. "Hypocritical what now? Hypocritical WHAT?!" He roared. He pulled out his phone and simply texted Jess. "Underage drinking is a crime punk. Just doing my job. If you have a problem with that then come and find me at the shooting range. Oh and by the way, try not to get deafened by my rifle." He marched on and demanded he could go and shoot some clay pigeons. He was very good friends with the manager, Mikhail, who obliged. He grabbed a gun and just started shooting alone, basking in thought and anger. "Pigmobile my behind." He muttered.