Considering my other started work is still on Hiatus, I decided to start another work, the working title being "Black Trigger". I've had the idea in my head for a while, and am just now getting around (and off my lazy ass) to typing it up. Basically I was bored with video games at the moment and wanted something else to keep me awake for a little bit longer, so I decided to finally do this project.
I'm trying to get back into my frequent writing like I used to, and I'm a little worried that this is going to be a bit rusty of a work. I'll post it as it goes.
Black Trigger (Working Title)
“Always in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I have an itchy trigger finger.”“Good Morning! The time is now seven-fifteen and you are listening to the Morning Show!” An alarm was going off in a warehouse office that was converted into an apartment. A man with messy black and red streaked hair sat up and quickly turned the alarm off, so as not to wake the woman next to him. Why the alarm was set was beyond him; neither of them had any reason to be up in the morning. Not on most mornings anyway.
The man got up and quietly put on some clothes and a faded black trench coat. He put on his belt, which had two holsters in the back for two pistols, and both had a pistol in them. After getting dressed, he left the warehouse apartment and walked down a flight of stairs that led to the warehouse floor. The only light that came in was dim light from the slightly shaded windows, and it made the majority of the warehouse appear vacant. The man approached a door to the outside of the warehouse and opened it, stepping into the morning life of the city. It was mostly cloudy, a ray of sunlight appearing here and there, and then vanishing again. It was brisk as well, as the man stuck his hands in his pockets and walked down the street, toward a nearby bank. Cars drove by him on their way to work places. A school bus full of children went by, and a wad of paper hit him on the shoulder as it went by. He looked up at the bus as it turned the next corner, and looked at the object that had just bounced off of him. He picked it up and placed it in a nearby trashcan outside the doors of the bank he had been heading to. He opened the door as an elderly woman approached. She thanked his kindness and he smiled as he told her it was no problem at all. He stepped into the bank and walked up to the queue to wait for a teller.
A few more people had come in and stood in line behind him. He paid no attention to them at all, but everyone paid attention to the three men in black that came in as a group, all with ski masks over their faces as they told everyone to get facedown on the ground and not to move. All did as they said, so as to avoid any altercations with the shotguns they pulled out of their bags. Two of the men stayed in the back by the door, and the one in the middle approached a teller booth, “If you value your life, you’ll kindly fill our bags and let us go on our way without touching a single phone or alarm.”
The teller, terrified, began to take the bag, but before she could even get her hand on it, the man from the warehouse rose in a blur and fired three shots from the pistols that were hidden by his coat, the first in the robber’s trigger hand, the second in the shoulder, and the third in his head. The teller screamed and the man quickly spun around and lowered himself as he fired one shot from each pistol. The other two men fell to their knees and forward onto their faces, entry holes in their throats and exit holes out their necks, where the brain stem and the spine connect. He held the pose for a moment as the screaming died down, and the two .40 Caliber pistols he held had noticeable vines etched into the slides on both sides.
The screaming came to an end, and the man stood fully erect, reholstering his pistols behind him, “I’ll just cash my checks later, after this all cools down. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He put his hands in his pockets and walked out of the bank, back toward the warehouse, before anyone had realized just what had happened.
*EDIT: I know you said it didn't feel right to DP, but it wasn't even five minutes apart. - Hobo*
