The alley

Run, just keep running...

This is his only thought as his muscles burn the oxygen left in his constantly depleting blood supply. The rain helped and hurt, cooling him, while making his sprint all the more dangerous. A burning sting embedded in his abdomen spewed hot essence of life, a wound channel punctuated by a hollow point. Vision blurs as he weakens, the Beretta heavier by the moment breathing smoke, bleeding acid. Breaking to a street, Edgemont, he frantically looks left and right, choosing the latter in now a brisk pace, no longer able to run. The light of a ravaging fire faintly glows from the direction he came, sirens screaming in the night. An alley, the first one he sees, is where he escapes to, bracing against the wall of a quiet bar.

How did this get so fucked up?

How did it get to this?

The adrenaline is gone, slowly starting down the way, he searches for his phone to no avail, replacing his pistol into the holster in the jacket the out of breath figure is startled by a noise. A young lady stands in a doorway, her eyes give away confusion and shock at the wounded beast. He lifts a bloodied hand, taking a step, as if reaching for a saving angel. She steps away, fearful. This is where it goes black, this is where he falls.

Face first.

Exit here.

~The Trickster, Maui