Today was a sunny day. A day full of relief following major flooding of the subway lines just hours before. The greater the light is, however, the bigger the shadow must be.
As I was walking home from my train station, I noticed the shadow. It was following me; matching my every step. Something was not right. I quickened my pace, trying to outdistance the danger, yet its persistence and wit were unrelenting. Not wanting to compromise my home, I took a slight detour.
The alley I entered was narrow and dark, illuminated only by the beams of sunlight seeping in from outside. Fortunately for me, a fire escape ladder was down. I armed myself with a rusty pipe I sighted on the ground, looking as if it was ripped out from a larger section of plumbing months ago, with jagged bends of metal protruding from one side.
I knew I was running out of time. Quickly I made my way up the ladder and took position on the fire escape balcony. The shadow neared. I saw the outline of a silenced pistol being produced from within the shadow; my heartbeat quickened. Seconds later, a man was standing only feet away and under me, looking around, puzzled.
I took my chance and leaped. The pipe connected with the stranger's right shoulder. I missed the target! Panicking, I swiped. The pipe produced a thud as it landed on the head of my enemy. Disoriented, the man stumbled, and fell down on a broken beer bottle with his chest, dropping his weapon. This bud was for you.
I grabbed the gun, a silenced MK 23. Something was not right at all. The man groaned, and turned around, blood streaming from down midsection. One hand on the pistol, another holding the pipe, I came closer. "Who are you?" I asked. The man smiled. Knowing he was temporarily immobilized with shock, I came up to him. "Who are you?" I asked again. I got down on one knee and wedged the rusty pipe into his open wound. "Who are you, and who sent you?" I asked again. The man uttered an expletive and turned his head, spitting blood. Bad Move.
I put the SOCOM against his temple, pressing the pipe ever further inside his wound. "Who sent you?" I asked again, becoming ever more annoyed by the second. The man groaned as I twisted the pipe inside his chest cavity, shards of glass grinding through his flesh and internal tissues. "I won't ask again." Not being able to take the punishment much longer, he gave in. "Drawmonster." The man could barely talk. His breathing was coarse and shallow. Blood was streaming from his mouth and dripped to the ground below in spheres of perfect burgundy.
The light was gone. Darkness enveloped the day. I got up, slowly holstering the gun inside my belt. My thoughts floated in my mind like a haze; blurry and unconnected. I couldn't think, yet a voice inside my head told me to run. Run fast and run far. This was a good time to trust my instincts.