by Dark Dreams
worked on this piece for some time: rewrite no. 4, argh for the computer crashing!
Darting between the shadows unseen, unheard. Cloak flowing as he moves swiftly between the darkened alley, shoes hitting the road silently stepping into a puddle leaving only small ripples. He covers his face with the hood, unrevealing his identity continues along his path, removes his shoe from the puddle, which is rippling once more, droplets falling from the sole of his shoe, running once more. His breathing normal and evenly paced, eyes focussing on the next area shrouded in shadow, the sound of rain hitting the roof’s of the surrounding buildings, the road falling into the pre-existing puddles to belong once more. Having the rain trickle down his cloak and occasionally down his face soothes him. He continues along his path until into his vision appears an obstacle, a figure, his attire all black with a mask covering the face. The figure removes an object from their left jacket pocket. The man removes the hood and steps into the light cast down from the street lamp; he faces the figure before him. The object that was removed is now held point blank towards the man, a gun. Starring straight down the barrel the man slowly moves his hand towards the pocket in his cloak, the gun clicks as the figure cocks it. The man removes a glistening weapon from his pocket and without delay swings the blade across the strangers forearm. He watches as both the arm and the gun fall to the floor, and as the figure screams in agony gripping at what is left of his limb. The man picks up the gun and pulls it apart, disabling it. Moving the blade once again, slits the figures throat and watches the body limply hit the pavement. The man removes the mask of his victim and wipes the blade clean, leaving the mask to fall onto the now dead figure. He returns the blade to its sheath, covers his face with the hood once more and continues to run.