The rumble of the bike was deafening for a second before it receded into a low hum. A few heads turned however most of the bystanders simply carried on with their lives. Brixton was a rough end of London and had seen its fair share of troubles and fights. So when Jack had erupted from one of the terrace's windows in a shower of glass a few heads turned but most just tried to walk away. A quick fight with one of the large men, who had jumped out after him, ended up with a knife in the man's gut and Jack making off with a gym bag filled with money. The job was supposed to be quiet and undetected however he had arrived late and the money was in someone elses hands. Better this way than no way at all though, in Jack's opinion. Weaving in and out of the London traffic, Jack was grateful for the slim frame of the bike compared to the monstrous widths of the cars. It saved so much time and cost a lot less in petrol. Plus, no congestion charge. Smiling as he pulled up to some traffic lights Jack made sure his helmet was strapped on tightly and then leant on his handlebars. He had one quick stop before he could head home. The bins in Chinatown. Peeling off to the right as the lights turned green Jack could already smell the aromas of the east filling his nose.
Pulling into a small alley way he lifted the gym bag up and over his head before depositing it into the open, green, wheelie bin that had been left out for him. Using his legs he then rolled the bike back onto the street and revved up before pulling away. A good days work and he would get the fruits of his labour tomorrow at the club meeting. Until then it was time for dinner. Taking a slow ride home Jack enjoyed the sights and smells of London. Always had done. Arriving back at his block of flats he was greeted by the doorman, Derrick, a tough old groat who had come up in a different gang to Jack. Though Derrick had left all of that to be with his family and sported a lovely wife and two great kids. Ad Derrick was also one of the friendliest guys Jack had ever met, you never would have pegged him as a murderer.
Climbing the three flights of stairs Jack arrived at his door and went about his routine. Pulling a tub of left over chow-mein out of the fridge he went to town on it whilst watching the crap on TV. Before going to bed Jack made sure to check in on his new bike parts. Bought off a retiring member of the club they had been cleaned and refurbed and looked spectacular pieces of chrome, ready for his bike as well. Finally after a long day, Jack lay his head to rest.
Pulling into a small alley way he lifted the gym bag up and over his head before depositing it into the open, green, wheelie bin that had been left out for him. Using his legs he then rolled the bike back onto the street and revved up before pulling away. A good days work and he would get the fruits of his labour tomorrow at the club meeting. Until then it was time for dinner. Taking a slow ride home Jack enjoyed the sights and smells of London. Always had done. Arriving back at his block of flats he was greeted by the doorman, Derrick, a tough old groat who had come up in a different gang to Jack. Though Derrick had left all of that to be with his family and sported a lovely wife and two great kids. Ad Derrick was also one of the friendliest guys Jack had ever met, you never would have pegged him as a murderer.
Climbing the three flights of stairs Jack arrived at his door and went about his routine. Pulling a tub of left over chow-mein out of the fridge he went to town on it whilst watching the crap on TV. Before going to bed Jack made sure to check in on his new bike parts. Bought off a retiring member of the club they had been cleaned and refurbed and looked spectacular pieces of chrome, ready for his bike as well. Finally after a long day, Jack lay his head to rest.
