“It doesn’t matter ‘bout the car I drive or what I wear around my neck…” Joey muttered under his breath.

He looked up, checking his progress, and bit the next line off in his throat. The Guard were further down the street; not too close, but close enough that he didn’t want to risk it.

They stopped in front of a man standing further down the street. Joey had noticed him before, but hadn’t thought anything of him. The man was in a suit, the uniform of the privileged, and a bit overdressed for this part of the city, but then the privileged were allowed to do things Joey only dreamed of these days, and he’d learned not to question their actions.

Do you ever wonder why… he sang in his head, sweeping his broom along the sidewalk.

The Guards were pushing him around now. Joey couldn’t hear them, could only hear the man’s voice, louder and louder until he was screaming, “no” over and over again.

He saw the Guard pull out his gun and closed his eyes as he aimed. He had too many images imprinted on his brain; he didn’t need the death of a random privileged citizen.

Still, he could almost feel the bullet as the Guard fired. Against his will, his eyes opened in time to see the light fade from the man’s wide open eyes as he fell, arms outstretched and brown hair fluttering.

This must be…pop.