Ethan wakes up with puke dribbling down his chin. He looks at his phone to check the time. 7:02 AM comes from a phone with a screen that hurts his eyes. He pockets the phone and goes to lean on the wall with his right hand to sit up, but a streak of pain shoots through his arm.
Its broken, bent a 90-degree angle from the scuffle in his living room, he inhales sharply through his teeth and shakily stands up.
"I hope that bastard made it to hell in two pieces."
All the dirt from last night's haze finally washes down the drain. There's a fresh wound on his thigh, but Ethan looks down at it and splashes the rest of the tequila on it before slamming his fist into the wall, making the shower head shake and the water stop flowing.
"Great going, dumbass; you have a corpse in your living room, and you made the water go out for everyone in the building."
Ethan steps out and rubs a gray towel all over his body before he looks at himself in the mirror again. He whistles as he winks at himself before getting dressed in new clothing.
"Well, since the waters out, as might as well get rid of the evidence."
Ethan grabs a milk jug from his fridge and sniffs it before gagging
"Well, I won't be needing groceries after this; hell, maybe I will get an insurance payout."
Ethan goes into his room and picks up a Jerry can from the closet.
Ethan sighs as he reaches up, and with his thumbnail he unscrews 4 vent screws before a bunch of loose dollar bills of notes varying from 20 dollar bills to 100s fall down as if it were raining money. He quickly pockets it all and fills the milk jug with gasoline before ripping up a shirt and making a fuse. On the way out of his apartment, he loots the man's car keys, a lighter, and a pack of Newports.
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"This man may have had shit luck, but he had great taste in smokes.
Ethan picks up the shotgun and douses his apartment with gasoline, leaving a trail to the front door, where he gently sets down the milk jug and lights the makeshift fuse on it. He popped a smoke in his mouth as he walked down the stairs, and the smoke rose just as his cigarette did. He got into the stranger's truck and started driving. He rolled down the window and tossed the bud of his smoke as he let cool wind flow through his hair.
As Ethan drives, he yawns and fidgets in his seat. He puts his seatbelt on before speeding up and cutting in between traffic. Tires screeching, honking, and the sounds of angry yelling erupt behind him, but he sticks his hand out the window and flashes him the board.
"THE STREETS BELONG TO RAVEN MOTHERFUCKERS."
Ethan runs a red light before immediately ducking down to play with the radio.
"A new vigilante apperently names nobody found and stopped a human trafficking ring, specifically children; over 20 girls were saved and b-"
ethan burps before loudly interrupting
"BLAH BLAH BLAH, let's get some music. I want my heart pumping."
Ethan nearly runs into a street lamp but veers onto the sidewalk at the last second before he finds a channel that he likes. An electric guitar is being played along with the sounds of a bass drum as Ethan grins and honks the horn to the beat of the song and reaches over to open the glove box and puts on a pair of steel aviators as he joyrides through the city.