Redemption's Balance

The rain falls in sheets, the droplets bouncing up from the asphalt and stinging my eyes. The wind howls, whipping the puddles into waves that crash against the buildings on either side of the road, leaving a trail of muddy water behind them. It's a cold night, and I'm not dressed for it. My shoes are soggy, my jeans are soaked through to my skin, and I can feel the woolen fabric of my sweater clinging to my body. But I don't have time to take shelter; I have places to be - people to see.

I pull my hood further over my head and duck beneath a large awning as two men walk past me. They're both wearing long trench coats and black hats, their collars turned up. One is bald, the other has hair which hangs down to his shoulders. They don't look at me as they pass by, but I catch their eyes flicking back to me for half a second each time they think I'm not looking. This isn't the first time tonight that I've caught eyes watching me.

Suddenly I spot him across the street: an elderly man in a dark suit with grey hair slicked back from his face. My pulse quickens as he takes out a small pair of binoculars from his coat pocket and raises them to his eyes. A bead of sweat trickles down between my shoulder blades as he sweeps them along the street before settling on me, holding them there for what feels like an eternity before lowering them again and walking away.

I push myself away from the wall of the building behind me and begin making my way across the street, keeping close to the buildings. As soon as I'm out in the open again, another figure drops down from one of the gutters onto one knee in front of me. The man wears all black with a balaclava covering his face except for his eyes; two dark spots glinting in the reflection of the street lamps overhead. He reaches behind him with one arm and takes out an assault rifle from underneath his trench coat without breaking eye contact with me. His fingers move jerkily around its trigger guard as he trains it on me, waiting for any sudden movement that would give him reason to fire.

"What do you want?" I ask through gritted teeth, sliding my hands slowly into the air above my head without taking my own eyes off him. "I haven't done anything."

He doesn't respond, just continues staring at me with those dark eyes beneath his mask until suddenly he looks away as though he'd heard something in front of him that I hadn't heard yet myself. Before I can react he has jumped back off his knee and disappeared back into an alleyway across the street where a car is waiting for him with its engine running. Without wasting any time I turn around and run full speed back towards where I'd first ducked under cover – an old shopfront with its doors boarded up with thick wooden planks nailed into place on three sides – before throwing myself down onto my stomach on the pavement outside it just as another hail of bullets whizzes over my head and crashes into metal behind me sending sparks flying everywhere.