@Echo_6 group
“Reports are still flooding in following what appeared to be some kind of gang shootout in the Down-town London area. Witnesses are stating that they heard as many as thirty, possibly more, gunshots. Police and SWAT have arrived on scene and are doing their best to contain this situation. If you are in or around the Down-town London area it is strongly advised that you stay inside, hide and protect yourselves.”
Neon lights reflected off the soaked cobble road and lingering puddles. Though the storm had passed, gutters still dripped with the remaining water the roofs were shedding. Almost soothing in their dripping had it been under any other circumstances.
The dripping effectively covered the sound of the other liquid that dripped to the ground. Or it would have if the rapid, staggering footsteps didn’t already do that. The steps continued softly echoing down the near pitch black alley way. The figure stumbling along stuck closely to the shadows, using them to hide.
One hand pressed firmly to their stomach to try and quell the blood seeping past their fingers and dripping to the ground. Breath coming out in short sporadic gasps as they slowly made their way down the dark alley. Their other hand held tightly to the briefcase he carried.
The silver and black case not only remained firmly in the man’s grip but a set of handcuffs were in place as well. One hooked onto the case’s handle the other hooked around the man’s wrist.
Sirens wailed in the distance, causing them to glance over their shoulder a split second as they staggered on. In that momentary distraction, their foot collided with a metal can sending the damned thing clattering out in front of him.
Cursing, the man surged forward, almost running. Trying to slip farther into the shadows where he could disappear.
Unfortunately for the wounded man another had fully zeroed in on their location, thanks to that can. Head snapping to attention this man was quick to draw his firearm and race at a sprint after the wounded man.
This assassin moved with practiced silence, speed and precision. Closing the distance between him and his target with ease.
Finally this could all be over. He could go home after this. All of them could leave this behind them. Though his target would be dead, and whatever mercenary had been stopping him for the last several weeks would be in jail. He could finally go home though, and that was all he wanted to do right then.
Shaking his head burying those thoughts and preparing to put an end to this. No more narrow escapes. No more massive shoot outs. No more wrecked cars, bloodied knuckles, and exhausting foot chases.
Rounding the corner to a dark alley he paused a moment, eyes straining to see in the darkness, any hint of his target. A breath. A tiny movement. A… spatter of blood on the cobble road. This was the right way.
So many targets before this one, likely to be many after, and somehow this one had managed to be the worst target he’d ever tracked down. Months to find him, weeks to even wound him. That combined with some mercenary kept interfering as well.
That mercenary had been left bleeding out, and surrounded by police. He would no longer get in the way.
He rounded a corner sliding to a halt, gun in hand leveling his sites on his target. He took a small breath in, watching his target stagger and stumble, clearly wounded by something. He wasn’t sure when the man had been injured. It didn’t matter though.
“Dobur Vecher,” he whispered, pulling the trigger.
“Detective Jameson.” The police chief greeted the young detective as he strode onto the crime scene, ducking under the strip of yellow tape.
“What have you got for me chief?” Jameson asked, not pausing more than a second to shake the man’s hand.
“Honestly, seems like a clear cut case sir.”
“How so?”
“Well, you see sir, these two seemed to have some kind of grudge with each other, and well… See for yourself.”
On the ground before him were the bodies of two men. A man in a torn and bleeding suit, the other in some strange tactical gear. The man in the suit, had three distinct injuries, some sort of stab wound in his abdomen as well as two gunshot wounds to the back.
The other man bore one wound, a shot straight to the head. It looked almost as though they had killed each other. Though… not quite right. Jameson couldn’t quite put his finger on just what was wrong with this whole scene, but something was definitely wrong.
Possibly the way the second man had fallen? Maybe the odd tattoo on the lower of his neck? The way he gripped his gun still? Or was it the strange blood spatter, entirely in the wrong place for how the scene was set up?
Carefully pulling on a pair of gloves, Jameson stepped closer to the first man. He crouched and studied the scene before him before reaching out and picking up his arm. Odd bruising on this first man’s wrist. Bruising the likes of which Jameson had only ever seen from cuffs.
“Looks to be a double homicide sir,” the police chief was saying. “Given the gang violence we’ve been seeing as of late-”
“No,” Jameson shook his head. “No, this was no gang violence.”
“Scuse me sir?” The police chief scratched his head under his hat.
“I want a full autopsy report on both of them, on my desk asap,” Jameson decided. He pulled his gloves off and brushed off his hands on his coat.
Both looked up from the scene as another office sprinted over to them.
“Pardon me sirs, but there’s a gang shootout happening across town in one of the hotels,” the young man reported.
Without another word Jameson and the police chief hurried to their vehicles. Soon speeding off to try and track down this strange string of gang violence they were seeing through the city. Jameson suspected something foul at play, he just couldn’t say what.
(This is essentially the rough draft of the first couple pages. Let me know what you think of it! I'm working on the rest of it slowly.)