It’s a clear night, Both good and bad. Bad because I’ll be more visible in the moonlight. Good because I’m not soaked from walking all the way here. If my jobs weren’t so spread out, I might be able to afford a car. Peering from a side alley I see my target in front of me. It looks to be about ten years old, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s crawling with guards. There are four overlooking the area from the warehouse’s balcony, each monitoring from a handrail corner. My ears prick up at the sound of gravel crushed against someone’s foot. Looks like more watchmen are pacing the perimeter. I crouch behind a dumpster as the footsteps grow louder. They stop, and the only thing I can hear is my own breathing. The footsteps start again, flashlight aimed at the alley and getting closer. As they pass the dumpster, I jump up and headbutt them, and they stagger and go out cold. I immediately regret doing that, as I’m hit with a wave of dizziness, falling back on the wall for support. After taking a minute for it to subside, I try to figure out what to do next. They’ve probably already noticed that one of their men’s gone missing, so I doubt that borrowing the warden’s clothes will do me any good. Although…
A few minutes later, the guard pulls himself up, trying to figure out why he decided to snooze in an alley. He recalls someone behind the dumpster got the jump on him.
‘Well, at least he was kind enough to give me his trenchcoat,’ the addled watchman thinks to himself. ‘I was getting kind of chilly in this uniform.’ He pulls the belt on it tighter and walks back to his post. He sees his guard buddy and waves to him. In response, she unholsters her pistol and demands he leave the premises.
“Leave the premises? I’m doing my damn job, aren’t I?” The coat-wearing intruder replies. ‘This is the guy they send to test our security?’ Sandra thinks as she pulls the trigger. The saboteur keels over, screaming ‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?”
“I’m doing my damn job, aren’t I?” She snarks back at him. As she puts another shot into the trespasser, his hat falls off, revealing his face, rigid from the shocks he’d been receiving.
‘Jeremy?’
I’m pressed up against the other side of the storehouse, both feeling sorry for the guy and trying not to laugh at the fact that it had worked. The fiasco got the attention of the wardens up on the balcony, so I sprinted under them before they realised what was happening. Locating a fire exit, I shimmy over to it, and after some careful adjustments (slicing the latch bolt off using a highly sharpened retractable blade), I slip in.
Shutting the door behind me, the empty shelf right ahead tells me about the severe lack of tech being stored in the storeroom. Figures, Conway doesn’t want me to take anything while I’m here. Fair enough. I slink behind the shelf as best I can, trying to sneak to the centre of the warehouse.
“Freeze!”
Well, that didn’t last long. Pulling myself up, I turn to face my captor, raising my hands up and wondering why he hasn’t shot me like he was supposed to.
“Keep it down, will ya? You’ll wake up the whole neighbourhood.” I joke, stepping towards the shadow of the man holding me at gunpoint.
“I said freeze, damnit!” He growls back, taking a step forward to presumably show dominance. The stomping of feet starts coming from the other side of the warehouse. As he steps into a slice of moonlight from a rooftop window, I see his black shirt doesn’t match with the baby-blue of Bluetech’s security staff. He’s wearing a circular badge with a coat of arms and the words ‘Weston Police Force’ surrounding it. What’s he doing here? Did Conway hire them for added security? He takes another step, his pistol aimed directly between my eyes.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Rhett Jones!”
Ohhhhhhh.
I slap the gun out of his hand and run forward to punch him. The sudden assault catches him by surprise and he drops on the floor, where I pin him down and sock him until his lights go out. Then I give him a few more just to be safe. Will there be any more? Almost definitely. I glance at the pistol dropped by the officer. Do they use the same non-lethal ammunition Bluetech are using now? I pick it up and fire it at his leg to check. His muscle spasms tell me that they do. Perfect. The footsteps start closing in on me. I try to judge the distance between me and the door. I don’t think I can make it in time. I peek around the side of my cover and fire a few shots off randomly before ducking back. Groans come from behind me, followed by a couple of thuds as the hounds that I somehow hit fall to the floor. I swing around the other side, fire off the rest of the clip, and run for the door. Bullets graze past me, the shocks they give strong enough to sting like soaking a wound in the Dead Sea, but brief enough for me to keep moving. I make it through the door and go to close it, but another jolt goes through me as I find out that they shot the door. I bolt, praying that no one gets through the now-electrified door in time to line up a decent shot. I briefly consider trying to get my coat and hat back, but one of the watchmen on the roof spot me, and I have to retreat to the safety of the city streets. I’m sprinting through the sidewalks, just wanting to get home as soon as possible so I can sit down and down some coffee while I mull over the fact that Conway just tried to give me up.
I don't really like that last sentence, so I'm probably going to change it later.
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