The circumstances couldn’t have been better, for the man and woman who pulled into the parking lot of an old abandoned shirt factory. The buildings of the factory were a part of what used to be the thriving downtown district of Smithville, NY and, tonight, the only nightclub in the downtown area was reopening after being closed down by the city for six months, due to too many violent incidents either inside or just outside of the club.
The occupants of the car had both just recently been released from two separate prisons, and both were in violation of their parole for multiple reasons. They were in Smithville, and they were not allowed within the city limits, they were armed, at least the male was. They had stolen the car in Trenton, and of course, they were in the company of another convicted felon, each other
The woman sitting behind the wheel definitely showed the effects of her drug use and time in prison. A former high school homecoming queen, and mother of one daughter, she could now only be described as a hard looking woman. Her only comment as her male companion exited the car, was, “You better not fuckin miss, Jonathan.”
Jonathan Pettibone, was dressed in fatigues, but without a single badge, nametag, indication of rank, or any military insignia. He exited the car without either replying to her comment, or even a glance in her direction. As the car pulled away, he shook his head, and began to walk towards the club with a distinct limp. This limp was not from an injury; rather it was because he had an AR-15 strapped to his right leg, under his fatigue pants. The pockets were full of what he felt was necessary to extract his revenge.
As he limped along, he thought about the woman who had just dropped him off. Danielle had violated her own parole from Albion to pick him up two weeks ago, when he had been released from Fort Leavenworth, U. S. Army Maximum Security Prison.
They both had a single target that they wanted dead, but for two completely different reasons. Sergeant Dave Johnson, had destroyed both of their lives on a single night, sending Pettibone to Leavenworth, and Johnson’s now former wife Danielle, who was already well on her way to becoming a coke whore, firmly down that path.
Pettibone paused before he got to the corner, and reached into the shirt pocket of his fatigues, and pulled out a pair of major’s oak leaves, and pined them onto his collar. He then added three rows of campaign ribbon’s then slipped on his fatigue’s hat. He was now ready to get into the club.
Without pausing to join the end of the line, he limped along the line, laughing to himself as person after person thanked him for his service. When he got to the front of the line he slipped the doorman a twenty, “Think that a disabled vet can get in without waiting in line man?
The doorman slipped the twenty back into Pettibone’s hand, and moved the rope aside to allow him to enter, “Enjoy yourself Major; it’s gonna be one hell of a party tonight.”
