He immediately scrambled out of his swivel chair and rushed to the window. One look, and his blood pressure nearly shot through the roof.
His black Mercedes-Benz E-Class, bought with maintenance funds, was now slumped to one side—all four tires were gone, leaving only four pathetic brake discs resting on the pavement.
Huge, crooked pink words had been spray-painted across the car's body:
"Blood Cock Sucker!"
And the BMW next to it, the White Agent's car, was in an even more wretched state.
The windshield was shattered into a dense spiderweb, and a giant, mocking phallus was drawn on the hood in green spray paint.
"FACK!!!" White let out a shrill, off-key scream and, like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on, knocked his desk aside and rushed to the window.
Down below, two burly guys in baggy hoodies were putting on the finishing touches.
Travis swung a baseball bat he'd gotten from who-knows-where, landing a perfect hit right on the BMW's side-view mirror.
