Rules of Engagement: Prologue

Robert Krest raked a hand through his dark hair, sweat pouring down his forehead as his car screeched around the corner of a Los Angeles street.

"Come on, come on," he said breathlessly to himself, staring at his rearview mirror. Two pairs of headlights came squealing around the corner after him. Robert cursed loudly, slamming his fist into his wheel before making a sharp turn down a dark alleyway. Still the headlights followed, one after the other.

Robert steered to the right, knocking a dumpster off the alley wall and to the ground behind him. He thumped his horn, laughing slightly as the vehicle behind him slammed into the dumpster and overcorrected into the wall, blocking off the alleyway.

"Got ya," he sighed, raking a hand through his hair once again. His eyes returned to the dark road ahead of him and he felt his blood freeze.

A shadowy figure dressed in a black trench coat appeared at the opening to the alley. Slowly raising an arm to the neck of a silencer leveled with his Robert's head.

Robert bent down low in his car, opening the dashboard and pulling out a radio. He quickly thumbed through the channels before speaking.

"This is 55 Baker requesting assis..." he was cut short as his hand turned the wheel, crashing the front side of his car into the brick wall. His left wheel turned as the car spun about, sending the vehicle flying out of the alleyway, passed the figure with the gun and straight into a brick wall across the street.

Robert lay, slumped over his wheel, his hand clutching the radio. He painfully lifted his head, staring at the shattered windshield and enveloped engine.

"Lindsey's going to kill me," he moaned, reaching for the door handle. He pushed at his door, but it didn't budge. "Great, my boss is going to kill me," he growled.

"Wrong," came an all too familiar voice. "I'm going to kill you." There was a noise, quiet and yet eerie in the dimly lit street as the trigger to the silencer gave a click.

Robert's body slumped over the wheel once more, his hand letting go of the radio receiver. Blood streamed from a hole above his ears on both sides and splattered against the shattered window.

Silence buzzed for a moment before a young woman's voice echoed from the car.

"Krest, are you ok? Rob..." The shooter reached over Robert's motionless body, picking up the receiver and holding it up to their mouth.

"Don't worry, Rob's just fine, Rookie. He's in good hands," the shooter smirked, leaning over Robert's motionless body and throwing the receiver back where it had been.

"Who..." There was another click and the radio shattered into hundreds of pieces.