Zoey drove up to Detroit Motors in a car she stole that morning from the airport parking lot. Out of habit she looked around the inside of the car for blood that needed to be cleaned, but there was none. She didn't even have the money she came to Detroit for. Nothing went as planned that day and Zoey was pissed off.

Since finding out her cousin sent millions of dollars to an orphan the young mobster from Las Vegas was on a mission to get the money. First she had to find the boy and the couple who adopted him. In Los Angeles she questioned her deceased cousin's accountant. After a beating by Zoey he confessed he sent the money to an accountant in Detroit.

When Zoey arrived in Detroit that morning she wasn't in the mood to beat up another man. Instead she bribed the Detroit accountant to give her the address of the boy and his new parents. With the address in hand Zoey smiled and looked forward to getting the money. She was in such a good mood she considered letting the boy keep some of the money, but she quickly dismissed that idea. She wanted every penny of the money and would do anything to get it.

The house where the boy supposedly lived was empty. Zoey couldn't believe it. She was so mad she stomped off the porch, screamed and threw a rock through a window. The noise was heard by a neighbor who came out of her house in her old faded robe and slippers. When she saw the irate mobster the old lady rushed back into her house. Zoey ran over to the old lady's house and pushed the door open.

"I don't want any trouble." The old lady said as the mobster walked into her house. "I didn't see anything."

"Smart woman." Zoey commented and glanced around. There wasn't anyone else in the house, only the old lady and her equally old and dusty furniture. "You know anything about the people who lived next door?"

"The Sawyers?" The old lady asked. Zoey nodded at the last name of the couple who adopted the boy. "You just missed them. They moved yesterday."

"Fuck!" Zoey yelled and shook her head. "Do you know where they went?"

"Chicago." The woman answered. "Mr. Sawyer got a promotion at work and transferred to a big office in Chicago."

"What does he do?" Zoey asked and snatched the old lady's purse off a table next to the door.

"He's a FBN agent." The woman answered.

Zoey left the keys in the stolen car she parked in front of Detroit Motors and hoped the owner of the car dealership would get rid of it. As she waved down a taxi she was still livid about what the old lady told her. She couldn't believe her mobster cousin let a FBN agent adopt the boy she found on the street. "Stupid fucking bitch." Zoey mumbled as she got into a taxi. "Take me to the airport. I have to catch a flight to Chicago."

Utopia walks outside the shop after a long days work

What the fuck is this car doing blocking the driveway...

After examining the machine, Utopia concludes it's hotter than a fire.

A car thief must've got cold feet and dumped it here... ha!

Utopia continued muttering to himself before deciding that a Ford Model A would be worth keeping. Utopia then opens up the car and drives it into the garage, into a back room

I can make this beauty look like it's brand new... I woulda bought this baby off the thief for 500 bucks... ha!

How well does an auburn convertable run??

*FrankCastle walks in  the car shop.

"hello sir i like to buy that  Auburn 1931 Convertible Phaeton Sedan over there

and i will bay cash.

John walks into the dealship and looks around*

John spots a car he wants*

"hello i like to buy this 1931 auburn convertible please."

Utopia strolls into the Business District before coming across the old shop - bordered up and in clear need of restoration.

So this is it. The shop my father told me about.

Utopia takes a moment to take in his surroundings. His very own grandfather had built this place, prior to his untimely death.

You know what? I'm gonna reopen this place. Hell, I can order some new models and get this business going again. This can be the legitimate side of my career.

Utopia takes one last look around - knowing he is making his grandfather proud. 

With hands in empty pockets and withdraw from the the bright sun from the LA coast, Commodore walks past businesses that offer comfort food or the occasional whiskey to keep himself warm. As he reaches near the end of the walkway - he see's a dusty boarded up building with a rusty sigh exclaiming to onlookers, "Detroit Motors". With that he spots a figure lurking within it, with curiosity sparking his interests - he steps in, giving a small whisper:

"H-hey, Y-you own this place?" Commodore stops speaking, then beginning to slowly walk towards the figure.

As he looked at the motors, he walked around each as he thought about which would be good for those liquor runs or drug transits.  He knew he needed something a bit bigger but less conspicuous maybe along the lines of a GMC streamlined or a ford pick up.

Wandering round the yard he looked a bit more at what was available