On the chilly roads of Chicago - the drive to Toronto with full of guns and ammo inside barrels, rattle in the back - with a nervous tick, Scratchy begins to concentrate on the road, sitting in the front seat, driving a pick up truck in disguise with his ragged clothes and flat cap gives him time to reminisce of the easy days when driving his old friends around the block harassing peoples belongings,  or stealing a few bucks from the local convince stores, a smile arises on scratchy's face - giving him a more easing sense to his job. The road ahead turning more into more potholes than dirt, the never-ending road on a near ten hour drive, his foot slams on the break - with a small breath escaping from his stomach.

Not a very usual thing for Scratchy to do in his usual routes, yet a large traffic recall of other pick-up trucks and luxury cars stand out in the stale winds. With honking and curses of people in the same position as him at the accident up ahead, two cars that have overturned with black smoke rising - Scratchy gives a loud sigh, as he joins in the madness.

As time for Scratchy is usually precious in his moments under Koehler and Giovanni - everything on a strict schedule and dire consequences are usually permitted, so with a swift right onto the grass, the pick up truck rumbles, the tires squeaking and moaning, as the chassis of the vehicle being under rough conditions starts to squeak and cry as Scratchy changes gears trying to get out of the situation. Managing to acquire the right speed, Scratchy couldn't stop the damage he did the to vehicle, going as far enough as he could away from the traffic jam - he almost regrets his decision - but with his stubbornness in his driving skills, the car squeaks and a combusts with white smoke that floods out the hood of the vehicle. 

With fluids leaking at the bottom of his pick up truck, Scratchy parks luckily near a gas station - looking around, for someone who might look useful or to see if he can help him with a ride, at least to give some tools so he could fix the car himself. 

Kicking the tire of the pick-up truck, taking out a cigarette quickly - dropping his match box, a figure picks it up and lights his cigarette. 

I was in the area meeting with a contact of mine when I pass Scratch on the road. His car was smoking and he looked furious...I put my car in reverse and pull next to him.

"Car troubles Scratch?... looks like you could use a hand." Getting out of the car I light up a cigarette and lean against Scratchy's shit box.

"Ok so lets get this thing running!... where you going anyway? You quite a ways from home right now."