A week ago

The city of Chicago has been in a perpetual state of out-of-control- rioting. It is now a filthy cesspool of violence, with entire areas of the town practically cordoned off for the white folk, filled with roving gangs of black males engaged in the destruction of public property, looting, and murder.

As John puffed out the acrid white smoke of his Marlboro cigarette he chuckled over how little things had changed since the Recolonization law had been passed. Or rather, even as the world had changed entirely, some things remained just the same.

It was only natural that things would come to a head like that, John thought as he puffed again. The constant racial strife, the edges of each "side" moving further and further away, asking NO, BEGGING, begging for conflict.

John Olivier was himself a white man, in his late 20s. His family had immigrated to America after his great, great, great grandfather had, allegedly, stabbed and killed two Moroccans in Seville, Spain over dice and the thighs of a Portuguese hooker, and although John didn't much care for the "save the white race" crap the government was peddling, he did, much like his ancestor, care about two things.

Money and pussy.