<div style="text-align: left"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(244, 239, 248)">The theory had been simple, find an alley with someone dealing drugs, beat them up, get their money, and high tail it out of town. He was starving and emotional that made him less focused, sloppy, and definitely not up to par. With all that said though he was still better than a normal man, his instincts were still faster, his reflexes sharper, but his judgement was definitely going to be skewed moving forward if he didn't find some food soon. Soon he was right around the corner from the car that had been parked there for a long time, and still it had not moved. With his back to the wall of a brick building Hanz slid closer and closer to the corner and peeked his head around, what he saw was not at all what he had hoped for. A homeless person, or so it seemed, with the car running to power some device that caused a glow inside the vehicle. Hanz had no idea about cell phones, they were a foreign mystery to him, but that is what it was, a homeless person watching a video on their cell phone while charging it with their car in the alley.<br/>
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"Damn..." he said softly as he crouched low when a car approached. Thankfully it just drove by, continued to roll, and then the smell wafted into his nostrils like sweet perfume, cocaine was nearby. Without thinking Hanz took off in a mad dash, turning down streets, jumping fences, until finally he came to a trailer park where the scent was so strong he figured at least half a dozen or more of the trailers housed the white powder of glory. Hanz went up to a green one, the lights were still on, and he knocked on the door. "Go away," came a screeching male voice. Hanz knocked again, and again the voice shouted out, "go the fuck away or you are gonna meet my Remington you fuck!"<br/>
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Hanz was unfamiliar with what a Remington was exactly, but that sounded like a threat, one that Hanz did not take too kindly to at all. He ripped the door open and jumped sideways through the door, it was not wide enough for his massive frame. A guy in a white wife beater and faded blue jeans had a straw up to his nose, he was snorting a line of coke and jammed the straw slightly up his nose from the surprise of his unexpected guest. "I make this very simple, give me all money, this Remington you spoke of, and some food and I will let you live, otherwise," Hanz picked up a frying pan and rolled it up with his bare hands like he was rolling a newspaper, "this will be your head."<br/>
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A wet stain formed in the mans crotch, the smell of urine overpowered the scent of cocaine, and Hanz knew the man was scared to death. He scrambled to the back of his RV into the bathroom while Hanz slid into the kitchen and opened up the fridge. He took out a carton of eggs which had 8 in it, a half block of cheddar cheese, and a Coors light, he sat them on the counter and reached into a cupboard above the stove top and found a box of pop tarts. Not the most nutritious things he could choose to eat, but he was hungry. As he heard the man in the back still scrambling and whining Hanz popped the eggs into his mouth, shell and all, three at a time. <i>Crunch</i>, the shells were loud as he chewed them up and swallowed. The taste was not the most desirable, but he had tasted worse things. Once the eggs were finished he chewed through the half block of cheddar cheese like it was nothing. <br/>
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The man came out with a roll of hundreds, about 20 of them in total, and Hanz took the bills and shoved them into his front left pocket. "J... j... just a second while I get my Remington for ya. Will you be wanting the ammo too?"<br/>
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Hanz smiled, "yes, and the keys to the motorcycle I see out there, and something to hold the ammo in." The man nodded and disappeared as Hanz opened the box of strawberry Pop Tarts to find 8 wrapped packages, he opened them quickly and made short work of the pastries. Then came the beer, he chugged it like frat boy could have, easy peasy, and then he was presented with a Remington 12 gauge shotgun and 3 boxes of shells. Hanz was smart enough to know how to load the weapon, which he did quickly, tossed the rest of the shells into the backpack the man handed him, took the keys, and disappeared back out the door he had ripped off.<br/>
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The Harley Davidson motorcycle was not the best, but it was not the worst either, and as she purred to life, a full gas tank read on the meter, the shogun carefully stored, he took off and headed for the main highway. With food in his belly it didn't take long for his senses to all start functioning well, and that was when he caught hint of Clara's, she had gone west and quickly. It seemed like she very well might have taken a ride, though he knew she could run quickly the scent was fading fast so that was unlikely. He headed out, deadest on finding her, in hopes they could talk things out.</span></span>​</div>