McSweeney had the siren on his car blaring loudly. 'To pierce the ears' of possible civilians with the siren's screaming was an understatement. "All units!" he started to say with one hand on the radio, while the other managed the steering wheel. "Earl Wayne Johnson has been located on Butcher street. I repeat, Johnson is spotted at Butcher street. Bring all possible HAST members and police to the scene, and DO NOT forget to bring the items from the Hellfire Arm crate."
"We'll need him alive." Chance argued as he held onto the handle just above him as McSweeney's foot was stuck to the accelerator. The Haverton's eye locked onto the speedometer. McSweeney was doing 80, and the meter went up to pass 100.
Part of this end of town wasn't ravished or touched by the Hellfire Arms, at least not yet, Chance noticed. The streets were also somewhat empty, with very few cars out on the street as well as passerbys. Did the people lock themselves in?
