| "Questions" | |||
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London May 18, 2008, 2206 hours Lima Time He made his way down the street, his suit marking him out as a man of sophistication, someone to be respected despite his young age. He looked like a number of other people on the street, dressed up for a night out at one of the local clubs. He would not have been able to gain admittance to a club had he tried, for a quick body search would reveal the silenced pistol nestled in the small of his back and the knife attached to his upper-arm, handle pointing towards his left hand so that he could access it quickly should the need arise. He hoped that such a need would not appear, at least not until he had selected his prey for the evening. The streets where busy in this part of town, but as he made his way further away from the bustle the scenery of the whole area changed rapidly from modern, well-kept buildings to derelict masses of bricks and metal. This was the home of the many gangs that resided in London, a place where few normal citizens dared to venture, instead keeping to their haven back in the centre of the city. It was remarkable what differences there were between two places only a couple of miles apart, but the differences were quite real. He continued down a back street, noting the way in which it had been taken from those who had once lived here. Of the nine streetlamps only two were working, desperately trying to ward of the darkness which crept all around, hiding things from prying eyes. He passed a large house which had once housed someone of importance, or so he thought. The black marks on the walls showed where the firebombs had struck, sending their hot flames onto the crumbling brickwork and wooden window frames. The bombs hadn't been the only abuse suffered by the house; the backend of a car protruded from what was once the living room, now serving as the final resting place of a vehicle whose final journey had ended in a shower or dust and glass, engine wrecked, tyres burst. The family had probably left soon after that, and once they had gone the gangs took over. Speaking of gangs, he thought, I must find one soon. He began taking turns down alleys, walking purposefully down the narrow paths that led from street to street, searching for signs that would indicate the presence of a gang in the nearby area, but there was nothing. He was beginning to wonder whether they were taking a break from their illegal activities when he felt eyes watching him. A lot of eyes. He continued walking, making sure that he didn't let them know that their attendance was known, turning down a couple of unlit alleyways before coming out in another deserted street. There was another alley about two hundred metres down the street on the opposite side of the road, hidden by the darkness but still visible to someone with his keen eyesight. They were still behind him, he could hear their footsteps drawing ever closer, waiting for their chance to strike. He spun round, counting the heads as he did so, discovering that there were eight young men in his view, more than he had bargained for. The look in their eyes was one of expectance; the odds were stacked heavily in their favour, it was an easy kill. They weren't even concerned that he had spotted them, they oozed confidence, and he was now going to take that away from them. Pushing off on his left leg he turned and began sprinting away from the group, pumping his arms as he legs opened the gap between them. They reacted slowly, but soon they were all in the chase, cursing themselves for having let him get so far ahead, then realising that the man they were chasing was unusually fast. Not that it mattered, they thought. There weren't many places to go, they knew, and if he chose to go down the alley nearby then he was in for a nasty surprise. He angled towards the alley, his legs propelling him closer and closer to the gap in between the two buildings, his mind already working out the necessary details for his plan; speeds, distances, angles, all calculated precisely as he sped nearer to the opening. In a matter of seconds he would have reached his goal, and now his mind had passed the planning stage and was preparing to put the plan into action. He reached the alley and immediately ran as far as he could down it, towards the brick wall that indicated the end of the passage. His eye spotted nothing abnormal, and reported that fact to his mind. This was where he would make his stand. His pursuers were only a few seconds behind him. The rounded the corner and slowed the pace. There was no sense running now, they had him cornered. Confidently they strode down the alley, eyes searching for him, seeking out his hiding place. It was a good one, they realised when they didn't find him straight away. One of the gang moved further into the alley, looking towards some junk that was scattered� The body fell, causing the others to look up in confusion, then alarm. Even though there were seven of them against one of him they began backing off, the event having forced them to re-evaluate him even though they couldn't see him. Had they not been so far down the alley some of them may have made it out, but before they could even start running the world turned black and their lives ended. The remaining two turned to flee, but before they could move their bodies away he had knocked them down, flinging himself at them. They fought to get up but he was to quick; a well-aimed punch knocked the nearest one out cold. He brought the silenced pistol up to the wide eyes of the remaining gang member. "Tell me about Daniel Odds." "What?" The question had confused him. "Who?" "Daniel Odds," Nikolai repeated, moving the gun slightly to remind the kid that it was still there. "I dunno him man." At that point the other man regained consciousness, helped by the rain that had started to fall. "Tell me about Daniel Odds," he said to the revived man, getting a perplexed grunt as a reply. A single round made that the last noise he would make. The blood from the wound splashed onto the other man; his eyes bulged, the weight of the body pressing against him causing him to pray for the first time in his life to a God he didn't believe in. "Now, if you won't tell me I'll have to find someone who will. You do understand the consequences of that, don't you?" The man nodded as much as he dared, then spoke freely until the time came for him to become body number eight. Return |
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