Alleyway

“Shit.” Dead end. By the time John realized his mistake it was too late—the menacing shapes of the three men who had been following him already filled the entrance to the alleyway, blocking out most of the muted light from the streetlamp. Deciding he was definitely trapped, he spun around and held his ground just outside the deceptively warm ring of light still filtering through. He needed every advantage he could get, especially if these were Madison’s thugs. Madison hired only the best—he had hired John.

Of course, they could also be your usual common lowlifes out to make a quick couple of bucks—perfectly probable in this area of the neighborhood—but somehow he doubted it. Madison wanted his blood, and it was unlikely he’d let anybody else have the pleasure of killing him first. John figured he’d ask anyway. “Madison send you?” No answer, but the question set the men into action. The three of them started into the alleyway, the lead man reaching into his pants to pull out a blade. John grinned in spite of himself as he reached slowly behind him to finger his own blade. This was his kind of fight.

He tensed, waiting, preparing himself as they approached—twenty feet away, then ten feet, then five. At three feet he sprung, sending his dagger flying into the first man’s gut. Catching the man’s dagger before it fell, he sent it hurling directly into the right man’s throat before facing off with the third man. The roar of the gunshot deafened him as a burning pain scorched his side. He grabbed for the gun, setting it off again, this time into the air. A scream of agony filled the silence of its echo as he broke the man’s arm, sending the gun clattering to the ground. In one swift motion, John swooped up the gun and fired point blank into the man’s head—twice.

John collapsed on the ground, dropping the gun. His last thought before the blackness took him was that this is what he got for falling in love.