Consuelo Martinez

Consuelo Martinez was on a mission as he shoved himself through the cold, silver turn style in the New York City subway station. He grasped his briefcase tightly; he knew he literally had his life in his hands. The Mafia had kidnapped Consuelo, and were forcing him to transfer enormous sums of money between cities with the threat of his life hanging over his head. His face is serious, as he tries to conceal the fear in his piercing eyes. He is dressed in business attire to match his briefcase, and is fully aware that the walls have eyes in this place, watching for him to step one foot out of line. He steps onto the subway as he tries to hide his fear. He notices immediately to his left, an inconspicuous man looking up at him from his newspaper, dressed in a suit. Panicked, Consuelo exits the subway. The man follows him, but diverges to the left when Consuelo’s path is blocked by two giant mobsters. “This wasn’t part of the deal, Martinez.” The first man says with a thick Italian accent while pushing Consuelo to the ground and kicking him. “I got nervous.” Consuelo muttered as he struggled to stand up. “Well, you know, the God Father always keeps his promises.” The second man said while putting a gun to Consuelo’s head. “Ok, ok! I’ll do it, I’ll do it!” Consuelo said desperately as he threw his hands to the brief case and pulled it close to his chest.” No more screw ups.” The second man says sternly. “He knows too much!” the first man says with a concerned tone to the second. “You’re right.” The second man said. “Way… too…”

BANG BANG! A gun was fired and the mobster fell to the ground. The first man saw his partner lying in a pool of blood and ran away quickly. Consuelo picked up the briefcase and ran out of the subway station. Nobody knows to this day who fired that shot that saved Consuelo Martinez’s life. He fled New York with the $3,000,000 to a small town in Iowa called St. Mary’s with his wife and children. He now works with a business running to develop self operated motor vehicles under the name John Cintas. The memory and the fear from this event scarred him for life, and the image haunts him to this day.