HitMan Harry... Arrives
Out in the Nevada desert, on the edge of the incorportated city of Las Vegas...
a pimped out 1968 Checker Auto Aerobus, painted pearl lemon yellow with a peanut butter Landau top, natural sharkskin upholstered seats, everything metal is gold plated... door handles, bumpers (which are pretty big on a Checker Auto), all matching the twenty two inch gold plated "spinner" rims... pulls off unto the gravel shoulder of an empty two-lane road... and parks...
...besides a coyote howling at the full moon in the quiet desert night, the only other sound is a V-6 engine cooling off, ticking...
Staring at the ensemble of the many armed Saguaro cacti, three impeccably dressed men (very well armed them selves, metaphorically speaking), all wearing tailor made Italian silk suits, flashy silk ties and shoes that can not be bought by the public, for all the clothing has been made by master craftsmen that work exclusively for a man known as, HitMan Harry.
As they exit the 1968 Aerobus... their nice shoes add a percussion to the ticking engine with the crunching of the gravel and sand as they spread out and look into the star filled desert night.
The exact day is unknown... and until they find a newspaper, they do not know the year is 1927.
HitMan Harry, who maintains an impeccable smile says
... "So this is it fellas... Vegas Baby!"
A man with a pockmarked face and a nasty looking scar below his left eye, who is only known as "Lefty", lites up a primo Cuban cigar... once he gets the cherry glowing and with a few draws blows a smoke ring and says, "You should have let me kill the security guard Harry."
With a shrug of his shoulders, HitMan Harry replies...
"What for Left, we were heading not only out of town... but out of that decade!" ... "Besides, did you notice the look in that guy's eyes? Who's gonna believe him anyways... that a car ran through a cloudy mist in a warehouse and disappeared into thin air?"
The driver of the 1968 Aerobus Checker Auto, strictly known as Dave, made his first comment of the incredibly strange evening...
"Boss... I dropped one of the vials when he shot at me... I couldn't help it, the bullet went right through my jacket sleeve and it scared the shit out of me!"
HitMan Harry, never breaking his smile replied...
"Yeah, maybe we should have killed him. But what is done is done, and we have work to do."
...with that said, the three impeccably dressed men get back into the converted Checker Auto Automobile...
...and drive into the recently incorporated city of Las Vegas, to look for a newspaper.
HitMan Harry... builds, Vegas Baby!™
