<div class="floatleft">(http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Eat95O5eik/VFPiUh4NhuI/AAAAAAAAAG8/LwZLDhLpRcg/s1600/1hot-djs-20%2Bthin.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: DJ<br/><strong>Location</strong>: On the side streets of LA<br/><strong>Time and Date:</strong>11:50am<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Melody, Bobby-Jason-Ricky, Dr. Nesbit, Ayano, Cam and 1 teammate / Open<br/><hr/>"Get out of the Goddamn way!" DJ waved his hand trying to push the person to the side from behind the windshield. Ricky was yelling as well, "I'll run your ass over," or something like that. The heat inside the old van became more and more unbearable each second that it sat still under the LA noon sun. Adding to the lack of breeze were the heated tempers of everyone inside the van. Shouts started to come from the group crowded in the back. "Fuck man! Get out of the fucking way before I come out there to kick your ass!"<br/><br/>That last comment got the one with the bat moving. Up until now the four old guys had simply stood in the extremely narrow road without moving. Dressed in working man's clothes accentuated by Harley t-shirts and bandanas that are typical weekend-biker paraphernalia, each appeared to be in their early to mid 50s given their greying hair and softening physiques.  After the van had stopped, the leader, or at least the one that did the talking, had shouted "Road tax! Throw shit out of the van until we get something we can use!" They had grinned and chuckled at their friend's words while twirling machetes, bats, and even a set of nunchucks. Now the largest one was moving around toward the passenger side of the van bringing his bat up ready to swing.<br/><br/>DJ tightened his grip on the tire iron he held in his lap. The window was open and if needed his plan was to shove the pointed end out the window into any attacker. That was about as far as he had thought it out. The large one didn't go for the front passenger door though, he continued toward the rear door that was already being opened by Cam's football teammate. "I got this asshole."   he said confidently as he launched himself out the door. He didn't have him though. He was met with a crushing blow as the bat connected full swing into his chest. The noises of his breath shooting from his lungs and some crunching mixed together for stomach turning effect. The teammate slumped in place, his forward momentum stopped cold.<br/><br/>"Shit!" DJ thought and moved without thinking. He swung open his door and stepped out of the van directly beside the bat wielding ambusher. Gripping the tire iron with two hands he swung a short awkward strike that missed his head and came down on the man's shoulder. The weight of the metal tire iron was enough to crack his collar bone causing his shoulder to drop and the bat to fall from his hand. The fat attacker slumping slightly to the right turned to face DJ with rage growing hot in his eyes. Again DJ moved without much thinking, swinging the tire iron up connecting with the attacker's  jaw. He fell away his disfigured mouth a slurry of blood and teeth.<br/><br/>"Fuck this!" Ricky yelled and shoved the van into gear, grinding it loudly before finding the right combination of clutch and shifter. DJ heard the van and felt its movement, he sat back onto the edge of his seat just as the van jumped forward. The passenger door swung back to close and pinched DJ's legs still hanging out the door, not hard enough to do much damage but he did wince from the blow. Behind him, Cam pulled his friend back into the van as the back door also swung shut from the sudden forward motion of the van.<br/><br/>The bandana covered leader and one other attacker stepped to the side out of the path of the van raising their weapons to strike. The last attacker did not step away but instead stepped directly in front of the moving vehicle swinging a heavy chain toward the windshield. Just after the chain struck the windshield causing several spider web cracks, the van struck the attacker his head cracking against the bottom edge of the windshield. Spatters of blood sprayed up while the body bounced back to the ground, the van driving over the motionless body.<br/><br/>As they continued down the narrow street toward their first opportunity to turn, DJ sat back, closed his door and turned past the bloody mess on the window in front of him to look at Ricky. A huge smile dominated Ricky's face. He turned to look at DJ and half laughed half shouted, "Fuckin' A!" DJ looked past Ricky's head to the open window behind him. Lodged in the window frame a full inch into the metal of the old van was the bright metal machete. Its tip had likely missed Ricky by the smallest of margins and he didn't even know it. DJ turned back to look out the front window thinking how things had definitely changed and wondering how many near misses they could survive. He softly echoed his friend, "Fuckin' A."<br/>