A pair of gloves, a gun, and a duffel bag. Big, black, and empty. Carrying those three things into a gas station was something I’d never expect to do, not in a million years. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done a fair share of criminal acts in my lifetime. Ecstasy, pot, meth, any drug you can name, but that’s all in the past. Freelance is what I like to think of it as. Go out on my own, do whatever it takes to provide. Hell, I’d have a fortune by now if it were up to me. In reality, I have a family to take care of, and rules to follow. Juggling being a family man and a criminal isn’t that easy, for sure. Killing wasn’t in my plan, at least not my initial plan.