Prologue.

He lit a cigarette and brought it to his lips. He sighed heavily as he sucked in the relaxing air, giving a long exhale. He looked upwards. Through the gap between the buildings, he could see the sky. It was blackened. It had been a while since he had seen star light. The smog from the city cleared out any chances, and worse still the bright lights of Domino out shone every flicker the sky ever had. He pulled the stick from his mouth, looking around the street.

The brick walls were damp and distressed, and long puddles ran up and down the street. The floor was blackened with drains leaking over the floor. Garbage bins lined the narrow streets, and all of the windows featured iron bars built to keep people out…but he knew otherwise. He knew hidden deep in those rooms were bodies. Bodies of people who would not be going home, not for a long time. Yes, there was one bigger problem than keeping people out…it was keeping them in.

He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again, repeating the process. He glanced to his wrist watch, 03.13. Two more minuets to go. His hand stroked his pocket, feeling the GP 35. It was fully loaded and he was more than ready.

He heard the footsteps echoing in the ally. He kept his blue eyes focussed on the ground. He didn't need to look. He never needed to look. It's a fact that the human mind knows when it's been watched. This guy didn't need that privilege. If you're been watched, adrenaline kicks in, flight or fight…and he knew which option it would be. They'd run. They always ran. One look at the pistol and they would run for their lives. He felt the presence on the street. He picked the gun out and turned to face the man opposite him, dropping the cigarette on the floor. He glanced him once over. He was small, fat and chubby, and right up until the gun was pointed at him, he had held an arrogant persona. He watched the man freeze. He could feel the air grown tense as the smoke from the cigarette lingered behind him. His arm was outstretched fully, a tight black jumper clinging to his arms. His face was blank and expressionless and he cocked the gun to the left. The fat man faltered, stepping back slightly, readying himself to run. But it was too late. As he stepped back, his leg trembled, toppling him over after his first few steps.

Three shots rang clear in the air, and the man dropped to the floor in a motionless heap. The man stepped closer to inspect the blood dripping from his head, back and leg. He bent down, picking the 3 bullets from the body. He then took the briefcase the man had been holding before disappearing into the night.

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hello.

So it's the prologue…and it's short. What do you think?

This story wont be updated as frequently as the others until Broken and On my Own are finished, however I will be posting when I'm inspired (like tonight) or have time.

Anyway, I hope you like it as it is not the sequel to Broken as I previously considered.

Please R&R

Much love

x