CHAPTER ONE - EVAN:
I never thought I would be on the run only because my friends dragged me into it.
Considering that I was a 25 year old with a bachelor’s degree in computer engineering and was an excellent person throughout my time, my friends were a bit less than that. For example, my best friend, Ben, had a history of tickets, warnings, and eventually three DUIs and many misdemeanors. Or you can look at Alex, who was similar to me, but had a long string of issues with the Chicago Police Department. Even though there were about five more, I am not going through all that. After a while, I somehow managed to get into their circle of crime.
It started out with a single convenience store holdup in which Ben and I had broken into the store at midnight and stolen what was in the cash register as well as what was in the safe. The only thing we did not consider at the time was the alarm, which had a very thin carbon-fiber wire running along the windows, we realized it right when the police showed up. “Evan! Let’s grab the bags and go already!” Ben had said as we shot out of the rear door towards the big, white delivery van sitting back a few yards in the bushes. Luckily, Alex was in the front seat with a friend of his, Paul, who was holding an old SG-90 that they had gotten off a crack house they had robbed a while back. Knowing that Alex had a chrome plated pistol holstered on his belt, I shouted, “Alex! Get the damn car running!” walking towards the car to let him know it was us.
Throwing the two duffel bags of money in the trunk and tossing our rifles in the space in between the rear seats, we jumped in. “Hightail it out of here, Alex! We don’t need to bail anyone out again!” Ben shouted as the Yukon flew over the curb and sped off on Highway 34 back to Alex’s hideout in the Dockside area, which was about an hour drive from the store in the outskirts of Chicago. Even though they lost the police after a while, they still went to a run-down warehouse along the route that Paul’s brother owned and changed cars from the van to an old, green, beat up Vespid HMI which they used to drive back to the house in the Dockside. When they got back, they dropped everything off at the old basement in the building where we often stashed our loot and the equipment. Knowing some of us needed a drink after what just happened, I got everyone back into the car and we sped off the The Bronco, which was a bar popular amongst the shady class of Chicago. Little did we know, we would soon go past convenience stores and drugstores to higher paying contracts, and go on to become one of the most feared gangs in Chicago, The Watch Dogs.