The story detailing a ‘rampage’ of West Coast murders dominated the front page of the San Francisco Examiner. All hell had broken loose. Literally.
William and Michael watched it unfold on TV that night. They were impressed with themselves, though they had expected the news story to break soon. They were counting on it in fact. That was the plan.
They were the special ones. The chosen team to get the job done.
Now they were on their mission. On the road again.  They were chowing down at a diner in Woodland Hills, north of LA, off Highway 5. People in the restaurant noticed the two of them.  How could they not? Both were over six feet two, blond ponytails, strapping, well-muscled bodies, dressed completely in black. William and Michael were the archetypes of modem boyhood: wild animal meets entitled prince.
The news was playing out on W. The murders were the lead story of course, and the sensationalized coverage lasted for several minutes.  Frightened people in Los Angeles, LasVegas, San Francisco and San Diego were interviewed on camera and had the most incredibly insipid things to say.
Michael frowned and looked over at his brother. “They got it all wrong. Mostly wrong anyway. What idiots, what fucking drones.’ William took a bite of his dreary sandwich, then he stared up at the TV again. ‘Newspapers and TV always get it wrong, little brother.
They’re part of the larger problem, of what has to be fixed. Like those two lawyers in Mill Valley. You finished here?’ Michael wolfed down the remainder of his extra-rare cheeseburger in a voracious bite. ‘I am, and I’m also hungry. I need to feed.’ His beautiful blue eyes were glazed.
William smiled and kissed his brother on the cheek.’C’mon then. I have a good plan for tonight.’
Michael held back. ‘Sh............