Three FBI Agents walked through the alleyways of Miami, assigned to crack down on a drug cartel in Allapattah. All three agents are fully equipped with pocket knives, large rifles, and bulletproof vests. The skies are dark & cloudy, and the alleyway is illuminated by the moonlight and nearby street lamps.
As the three agents stroll through the damp alleyways of Miami, one of the agents engages in a conversation: "So Jones, you thinking about your family?"
"Yes, Tim. I wonder how my wife and son are doing at home."
"Your son Daniel?"
"Yes, he wants to be an FBI Agent like me. I wish he'd be an even better agent than I am."
"Quite an eager boy." the last FBI Agent replies.
"Yes, He's only 9 after all. He's got big dreams. Let's hope for the best" says Jones.
As the three agents ventured deeper into the alleyways, loud music emerges within earshot. A turn in the alleyway shows a door, the loud music seemingly emitting from it.
Agent Jones comments "Is this the place?"
"Yeah, 1762 Northwest 21st Street." confirms Tim.
Agent Jones then takes a deep breath, then knocks loudly three times on the door.
"FBI OPEN UP!"
There's no response for a few seconds, until a big, burly brown-skinned man answers the door. He's holding a glass bottle of beer, and takes a short swig shortly after he answers.
Agent Jones does the talking, while Tim and the other agent stand behind as backup. "We're here to investigate a drug cartel."
"Uh.. sir. There's no cartels down here. Fuck off." the man replies.
"We have a search permit." Agent Jones holds his search permit up to the man's eyesight.
The man stares at the permit for a few moments, until he grumbles "Uh... yeah, sure. Come on in."
The three FBI Agents follow the man into the tenement. Loud music sung in spanish fills the room, along with pink and blue flashing lights. Dozens of other people fill the main area, all speaking in spanish to others.
"Just so you know, there's no drogas on here." the man states, before sitting on the couch with a young woman.
Agent Jones then commands "Search the entire premise. Stick together. Get the spectrometer ready, Alex."
"Understood, Jones." Alex replies.
A few moments later, a loud gunshot is heard within the building. All the agents immediately go into survival mode.
"TAKE COVER!"
"WE NEED ADDITIONAL REINFORCEMENTS AT 1762 NORTHWEST 21ST STREET!" Agent Tim yells into his walkie talkie.
Everyone in the room then pulls out several weapons: knives, handguns, and even bricks. They all immediately begin attacking the three FBI Agents. Agent Jones pulls out his rifle and starts firing at the gangsters. He takes out three of them. He's well for a few moments, until a young woman throws a rock at Agent Jones, knocking him on the ground. She then stands over Jones and rips off his bulletproof vest, then stabs a kitchen knife into his chest. Agent Jones slowly loses consciousness as he lays on the hardwood floor. He can make out a few voices as his life slips away.
"Agent Jones is down!"
"He needs medical assistance immediately!"
Agent Jones slowly closes his eyes. When he opens them up, he finds himself laying on a bed inside an ER Room. Three doctors pace frantically around Jones. A man with brown hair, a patchy beard, and glasses goes into the room, who Jones recognizes as Agent Tim. A doctor then declares: "Agent Jones is in critical condition. Death is imminent. We tried all we can, but nothing works on him."
Tim then walks up to Jones, and grabs his hand while he's still conscious.
"Jones..." he mutters.
"Tim..." Jones weakly mutters.
"Yes, Jones?"
"Tim... Promise... Promise me you'll train my boy."
"Yes, my friend..."
Tim holds onto Jones' hand for a moment, until he closes his eyes one final time and the electrocardiogram emits a prolonged, static beep.