In the overgrown quad outside, some of that very gang violence Ean had mentioned was going down. The perpetrator was short, scrawny, and armed with a crowbar. He was accompanied by his friend: a massive brute of a man. They both wore jeans, nondescript tee-shirts, and those skiing hats with the three holes in them.
For conveniences sake, I’ll refer to them as ‘Big’ and ‘Little.’
Little crept forward, sneaking up on his target, crowbar raised high. Big, a stoic observer, watched him stalk his victim.
For that matter, his victim watched him stalk his victim, and with more than just a little curiosity. The squirrel remembered a time when there were students, and free food from students, available on campus. Hopeful, he scampered up to Little.
Wham! went the crowbar. Wham wham wham!
Little tossed his bloody weapon aside. Damnit, he growled, The rats around here are too friendly for this to be any fun. Let’s go torment the wuss in 3b. He’s usually good for a laugh.
Okay, Big rumbled. He paused to get the crowbar and wipe it off in the grass before turning to hurry after his friend up to Ean’s apartment.