You step out into the sunshine, pulling the door shut behind you with a soft snick. You pause on the doorstep and set the briefcase down as you slide your ray-bans out of the breast pocket of your suit. You allow a small smirk to play on your lips as you slide them into place with a self-satisfied flick of your fingers.

A job well done, Danny boy....

You scoop up the case and trot down the short flight of stairs to the street and then freeze on the last step, one wingtip poised in mid-step. The beamer gleams in the mid-afternoon sun, the tint of its windows even darker through your sunglasses. Standing over it is a blue-uniformed parking inspector, glancing at the license plate and prodding methodically at his ticket machine. A high pitched chattering floats to you on the light breeze as he prints your ticket.

Where did that fucker come from? I was only in there 10 minutes.

You shrug mentally and stride towards him, unbuttoning your jacket and triggering the remote locking as you go. At the Bewp-Bewp from the beamer he looks up slightly startled and catches sight of you approaching. His lips twist slightly in a authoritative this-is-going-to-hurt-me-more-than-you sneer and he rips the freshly printed ticket from his machine. Holding it out to you he draws in breath to say something appropriately condescending and that's when you shoot him.

The bullet catches him mid-chest, flips him around and throws him to the ground face-first. He makes a shocked rattling sound as he tries to draw breath through his ruined lungs - before you step up over him and fire one handed into the base of his skull.

Bewp-Bewp motherfucker. Bewp-fucking-Bewp.

You yank open the passenger side door and throw the briefcase onto the seat before reaching down and plucking the ticket from his slightly quivering fingers. As an after thought you take his ticket machine as well, throwing it on top of the case.

You slam the door shut and stride around to the driver's side, re-buttoning your jacket as you round the rear of the car.

Parking ticket my arse.

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.