the afternoom clouds

The sun peeked through the late afternoon clouds, sending a cascade of shimmering colours across south London. It was autumn and the sun was a rare sight in between the rhythmical downpours. A street corner merchant cried out pre-rehearsed slogans that had come with his hotdog stand, a seemingly fool proof enterprise that later left him homeless, girlfriendless and broke. Just as a pigeon, who had been eyeing the stand for over an hour, flew down and snatched a fallen sausage, only to miss and receive a string of cusses and an inaccurate kick that missed him easily. The vender cussed again just as a silver Aston-martin vanquish pulled up next to him, and three men all with deep-set eyes and white suits exited the swanky car.

“Morning gents, care for a hotdog, they’re the freshest in lond…” the vender recited eagerly, but he couldn’t finish, the last of the air in his lung sprayed feebly out of the two new holes in his chest, he gasped but he quickly knew that he would never breethe again, he was dead. The three white clad men side-stepped the dead witness, the tallest of which returned his silenced .44 magnum pistol into the holster of his expensive, Armani beige suit. No witnesses today. The two shorter men swiftly walked to the window. That was an understatement, they glided across the soon to be murder seen and each of them unfastening a six-inch silver combat knife. Using the weapons they quickly broke the lock on the window and entered the post modern apartment block. All 3 flew up the stairs an amazing speed, without even breaking a sweat, ten stories up they reached the top and their destination, room 316.

They all smiled at each other, all of their mismatched eyes gleaming with joy, these three assassins were the hardest, most successful in the business, from foreign presidents to mafia dons, these 3 were men to call, they only ever missed one kill and that was a fluke but now it was time for their biggest pay off ever, 65 million for just one man, whatever this guy did it wasn’t their problem and it wasn’t anyone’s problem anymore, another success and another payoff. The shortest man reached down to the bottom of the door frame, taped to the wall was a key. He ripped it off and shoved it excitedly into the lock.

CLICK.

He swung the door open and all 3 three barged into the room looking for their money. Nothing. The only thing in the room were 4 parrels all sitting together in the middle of the room. Wires ran like Ivy all over the place, swirling and whirling, from the barrels to the welcome mat that they had just trampled. The last things that had gone through their minds were pressure plate, explosives and bastard. There was a click and the 3 three top floors erupted into flames. 

seconds later a human shape flew out of the tenth floor window, he too an inferno, a burning star in the the afternoon shy             

by billy B

the next chapter to come if public want!