Chicago, United States
It's been said that if you don't control your own destiny, it's determined for you. You become a product of society, a carbon copy, an empty shell. You give up on your dreams, on yourself. They say that your aspirations come from the deepest part of your heart, and that you can only be happy by following them. It's a load of horseshit, really. No sane man picks a life of crime -- I didn't. I had a future, before my folks passed. Now it's muddled. But, to tell you the truth, there are days when the thrill of not knowing which day will be your last is the only thing keeping me going. And I am still that boy from Teoloyucan. But now I carry a gun, and I steal lives. Because it's either them or me, my folks taught me that. It was their last lesson, spoken by their caskets. I do what I do because the money's good, and I just.. Don't think about the bad parts. This is my life. Me, the crew, and our next job.
It was a dreary day in Chicago. The clouds hung low like a dejected man at odds with the world, and there was a nip to the air, just cold enough to settle into the bones of the weary traveler. Though it was March, and this was Chicago, Juan Medina could not adjust to the climate of his new "home". He looked out the window of his hotel, closing his eyes in an effort to will himself to greener pastures. Their last job had been in Monaco. This.. Is not Monaco, Juan thought to himself with a pang of longing, opening his eyes in defeat. He had had a good time in Europe: it was almost like a vacation. The beaches, the women, the luxury.. He almost forgot that the reason they were there was to rob an old trust-fund millionaire. The guy had connections to some of the heads of Parliament, so.. Juan doubted he'd be able to go back. Now it was Chicago, in late Winter. Alex had called them there to prep for the next heist, but gave little detail. Said he'd fill them in after the plane trip. Juan grabbed his leather jacket and put it on over a white t-shirt. He had started to dress formally, putting on the bottoms to one of his black three-piece suits, but decided to run to the hotel lobby and down the block for coffee first. On his way out he stole a glance at the paperwork for the room. He had checked in as David Ramone, which was to be his identity for the week, or however long the Chicago job took. He didn't want to think about it.
On his way down to the lobby, Juan reflected on just how he had gotten into all this in the first place. The crew he had now -- the ones he trusted with his life -- had been together for a little over a year now. In that time, they had pulled off sixteen successful heists, robberies, cons, you name it. They were all pros, each one a specialist in their own field. Juan was the confidence man, but he got his hands dirty with the rest of them from time to time. They had two wheelmen, Werner and Angelo, both good guys. Juan always tried to get them to talk more, but then again.. Their actions speak louder than words when they're behind the wheel. James, the group's tech specialist was, on the other hand, a natural conversationalist. James was a Brit, but he wasn't out of place: the group had criminals from all sorts of places. Juan was the only Mexican, though. And James was in good company with Charlotte, their.. "Temptress" from London. But the crew often got in positions requiring direct confrontation, and people with skill in firearms and the mettle to use them. Mike and Jim were those men. To Juan, Jim is a loose cannon; but he's saved Juan's ass more times than he can count. Mike is harder to read. It had been a year, and Juan still had trouble placing him. Finally, they had Alex: their "official", often their contractor and, most importantly, their cleaner. Also the reason Juan was in Chicago, but he didn't hold that against Alex. The guy was reliable. He had never met him -- nobody had -- but he was a big reason as to why their jobs ended with a payday, not a lockup.
That was their crew. The seven people whose fates were attached to Juan's. With them, he'd either make it big, or die in the attempt. It wasn't a morbid thought for Juan to habe, simply a realistic one. He was going to die, some day. But not today, he promised himself, as he opened the lobby door and caught a gust of chill Chicago air.
It's been said that if you don't control your own destiny, it's determined for you. You become a product of society, a carbon copy, an empty shell. You give up on your dreams, on yourself. They say that your aspirations come from the deepest part of your heart, and that you can only be happy by following them. It's a load of horseshit, really. No sane man picks a life of crime -- I didn't. I had a future, before my folks passed. Now it's muddled. But, to tell you the truth, there are days when the thrill of not knowing which day will be your last is the only thing keeping me going. And I am still that boy from Teoloyucan. But now I carry a gun, and I steal lives. Because it's either them or me, my folks taught me that. It was their last lesson, spoken by their caskets. I do what I do because the money's good, and I just.. Don't think about the bad parts. This is my life. Me, the crew, and our next job.
It was a dreary day in Chicago. The clouds hung low like a dejected man at odds with the world, and there was a nip to the air, just cold enough to settle into the bones of the weary traveler. Though it was March, and this was Chicago, Juan Medina could not adjust to the climate of his new "home". He looked out the window of his hotel, closing his eyes in an effort to will himself to greener pastures. Their last job had been in Monaco. This.. Is not Monaco, Juan thought to himself with a pang of longing, opening his eyes in defeat. He had had a good time in Europe: it was almost like a vacation. The beaches, the women, the luxury.. He almost forgot that the reason they were there was to rob an old trust-fund millionaire. The guy had connections to some of the heads of Parliament, so.. Juan doubted he'd be able to go back. Now it was Chicago, in late Winter. Alex had called them there to prep for the next heist, but gave little detail. Said he'd fill them in after the plane trip. Juan grabbed his leather jacket and put it on over a white t-shirt. He had started to dress formally, putting on the bottoms to one of his black three-piece suits, but decided to run to the hotel lobby and down the block for coffee first. On his way out he stole a glance at the paperwork for the room. He had checked in as David Ramone, which was to be his identity for the week, or however long the Chicago job took. He didn't want to think about it.
On his way down to the lobby, Juan reflected on just how he had gotten into all this in the first place. The crew he had now -- the ones he trusted with his life -- had been together for a little over a year now. In that time, they had pulled off sixteen successful heists, robberies, cons, you name it. They were all pros, each one a specialist in their own field. Juan was the confidence man, but he got his hands dirty with the rest of them from time to time. They had two wheelmen, Werner and Angelo, both good guys. Juan always tried to get them to talk more, but then again.. Their actions speak louder than words when they're behind the wheel. James, the group's tech specialist was, on the other hand, a natural conversationalist. James was a Brit, but he wasn't out of place: the group had criminals from all sorts of places. Juan was the only Mexican, though. And James was in good company with Charlotte, their.. "Temptress" from London. But the crew often got in positions requiring direct confrontation, and people with skill in firearms and the mettle to use them. Mike and Jim were those men. To Juan, Jim is a loose cannon; but he's saved Juan's ass more times than he can count. Mike is harder to read. It had been a year, and Juan still had trouble placing him. Finally, they had Alex: their "official", often their contractor and, most importantly, their cleaner. Also the reason Juan was in Chicago, but he didn't hold that against Alex. The guy was reliable. He had never met him -- nobody had -- but he was a big reason as to why their jobs ended with a payday, not a lockup.
That was their crew. The seven people whose fates were attached to Juan's. With them, he'd either make it big, or die in the attempt. It wasn't a morbid thought for Juan to habe, simply a realistic one. He was going to die, some day. But not today, he promised himself, as he opened the lobby door and caught a gust of chill Chicago air.
