A tall, teenage boy wearing old boots, ratty jeans, and a thin sweatshirt walked down the sidewalk of Angler Road as though it were a normal day. He had a pistol tucked into the front of his jeans and a machine gun strapped behind his back. The second weapon was useless, though, as it had run out of ammo long ago. It worked as a good club.
The boy's hands were tucked into his pockets as he walked. His stomach growled, and he smirked when he saw a gas station at the side of the road. Finally, something to eat.
