Nyhm
BirthOfEden
Finally, it was night...
Grant pulled deep on the lit cigarette between his lips, letting out a long billow of smoke to encompass the gas light he stood under. His black trench coat swayed as he took a step from the sidewalk onto the blacktop, tossing the finished cig onto the ground before stomping it out. It was a cool October night, the moon shrouded in mist and the occasional bat fluttering across the sky. He lifted his hand up to his eyes to shield it from the silvery light of the moon, sighing.
It was time to get to work.
His Harley roared to life as he turned the ignition, sparks sputtering from the exhaust. Where was it I'm supposed to meet her? Grant could never keep up with places or names, it wasn't his expertise. He was a killer now, how plain and ordinary... Taking another cigarette to his lips and lighting it, he sped off down the darkened city streets.
Shops and closed businesses whirled by at an incredible pace. Grant closed his eyes and let his senses take over. Oh, right! He remembered, slamming on the breaks and taking a sharp turn to the right, the tires on his Harley skidding and burning across the pavement. Moments later he was there, standing in front of a large building covered in dark windows. At the base of the building was a small staircase with a wooden door at the bottom.
Grant made his way down and knocked at the door. Once. Twice. One, two, three... The door creaked open as pink light spilled out onto the quiet streets, post-punk music spilling outward. A man motioned him inside and quickly shut the door behind.
"What kind of business are you on now?" The man asked, looming at least a foot of full muscle over Grant.
Grant bent low and picked up something shiny from the ground. It was a silver coin, about 2" in diameter. She's here...
Grant pulled deep on the lit cigarette between his lips, letting out a long billow of smoke to encompass the gas light he stood under. His black trench coat swayed as he took a step from the sidewalk onto the blacktop, tossing the finished cig onto the ground before stomping it out. It was a cool October night, the moon shrouded in mist and the occasional bat fluttering across the sky. He lifted his hand up to his eyes to shield it from the silvery light of the moon, sighing.
It was time to get to work.
His Harley roared to life as he turned the ignition, sparks sputtering from the exhaust. Where was it I'm supposed to meet her? Grant could never keep up with places or names, it wasn't his expertise. He was a killer now, how plain and ordinary... Taking another cigarette to his lips and lighting it, he sped off down the darkened city streets.
Shops and closed businesses whirled by at an incredible pace. Grant closed his eyes and let his senses take over. Oh, right! He remembered, slamming on the breaks and taking a sharp turn to the right, the tires on his Harley skidding and burning across the pavement. Moments later he was there, standing in front of a large building covered in dark windows. At the base of the building was a small staircase with a wooden door at the bottom.
Grant made his way down and knocked at the door. Once. Twice. One, two, three... The door creaked open as pink light spilled out onto the quiet streets, post-punk music spilling outward. A man motioned him inside and quickly shut the door behind.
"What kind of business are you on now?" The man asked, looming at least a foot of full muscle over Grant.
Grant bent low and picked up something shiny from the ground. It was a silver coin, about 2" in diameter. She's here...
