The night whispered with crime. Street lights flickered with security cameras running. Clouds hid the moon’s grace. The stars winked with mischief. The scene held a secret.

A deep, deep, secret.

Footsteps rang, gunshots boomed. Mafioso ran longer than he wanted, this should have never happened. His money in your hands. He hated this. He was already planing your death. His running echoed like war drums. His sleek black coat trailed and whipped in the crisp winds. The breeze shooting in his face, making his eyes narrow and his nose wrinkle with fury.

He heard your laugh. He heard it all. He heard his money flying out of your grasp from the currents of bitter air. He heard your fast paced run. Letting out a puff of his cigarette, he crumpled it underneath his shinned shoe. He grunted, picking up a loose cash. He held up riffle, shooting it in the sky.

A warning shot.

The last chance for you to forfeit, and leave with mild injuries. He waited. His watch ticked with impatience. His grip on his gun tightened. He lowered his gun. He knew it. You wouldn’t give up. Not in till he shot you dead.

The chase was on.

He bolted after the last way he found you. Sharp turns, precise timing and steps. His bullet hurled out of his riffle. Sticking the shadow of a trash can with dreadful efficiency. A perfect shot. You didn’t have much luck now. But, you had a chance (pun intended).

”Get out of the shadows you damn strategist.”

He hissed, his gun pointed near your spot. His riffle glinted in the lunar glow. He looked around, his obsidian eyes sharp like broken glass. You still thought this was a game, didn’t you? Oh boy you were wrong. That was his money.