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A bespectacled man with long hair and a goatee sat silently in his red 2013 Ford Mustang. His shoulder-length blonde mane was parted down the middle. The white glasses that he wore had a thin frame and circular lenses, and his trimmed goatee was the same colour as his hair. A black stripe ran down the centre of the immaculate car’s roof. The man lounged on the black leather seat. One arm rested on the windowsill while his other stretched out on the back of the passenger seat. His meticulous silver suit was tailored. It added to his professional demeanour.
The man pulled his cell phone out of his suit jacket pocket. He received instructions from John, and ended the call. The criminal headed to the warehouse out in the countryside, spoiling for violence.
A woman in skin-tight black leather pulled her small black motorcycle to the side of the road. She pushed the kickstand down with her high heel stiletto boot that rose to her knee, and removed her helmet to answer her phone. This revealed her beauty. She had alabaster skin, straight black hair extending to the bottom of her face, full red lips, and penetrating blue eyes.
Standing in line at a Wok Box restaurant in the middle of town, a man received the call. His dark brown hair was greased back, barely long enough to warrant any styling. He was in faded white sneakers, blue jeans with a few extra holes, and a worn white t-shirt from a gym he used to visit. An unzipped dark green windbreaker covered his shirt.
On the city’s outskirts, another man sat on his dilapidated olive leather couch. His fiery red hair was thick and curly, and a blanket of freckles covered his snow-white skin. Moving to answer his cell phone, his wrinkled, baggy black sweatpants, and lived-in gray sweater, ruffled lightly. He lazily stretched his arm to the small circular glass coffee table in front of the sofa.
A man driving down the freeway in his blue 1998 Honda Civic answered the call. He spoke into his blue tooth head set, partially covered by a tight black skullcap. Sunlight reflected off of his black aviator sunglasses. He wore a black Aeropostale t-shirt that was two sizes small, highlighting his lack of muscle mass. His blue designer jeans were obviously overpriced.
All five assassins travelled to the warehouse that was shrouded in mystery. Every vehicle was packed with itchy trigger fingers, and many weapons to satisfy these urges.