NaNoWriMo '07
An unprepared mission, with a couple of unprepared agents. What a perfect combination with such a major mission at hand. Reginald stood by his girlfriend's, or partner's, side and breathed heavily as they began to walk towards the warehouse door. It was night, and strange noises came from every direction. Paranoia was pretty much expected.
The creak of the door radiates through the warehouse and Reginald highly suspected that their stealth mission was blown. They were to bring down the gang leader of Krad, and leave the gang to crumble to pieces. He and Synthia, his girlfriend, just came out of Angi Boot Camp, and did not know a thing about Krad or its involvement to the group.
The sound of a bullet came from the back of the building and a scream followed it. They ran to the location, pulling out their guns and readying themselves for a bloody shootout. Hiding behind a couple of stacked crates, they tried to hear what was going on. They heard the struggling pleas of a man in pain, and then another gunshot which ended his pain. This was their time, a man was killed and it was their job to stop the murderous gang member.
Rushing into the room, they didn’t expect to see what they saw. The dead man on the floor was Dwayne, the leader of Krad, and the man holding a gun was someone from Angi, one that Reginald and Synthia did not recognize. They knew it was an Angi member because of the man’s apparel, which was a white shirt with a black paint splatter-like imprint on it, white dress pants, white dress shoes, and an angel wing necklace.
“I knew you weren’t ready for this type of mission, so I took care of it for you. I’ll be sure to credit you for it,” the mysterious man looked up at them, his eyes widened and kept his hand at his holster.
“Is there something wrong, sir?” Synthia asked, stepping towards the man.
Reginald heard a gunshot, and then saw a blinding spark come from a gun. Readjusting his eyesight, the man had disappeared and saw that his girlfriend was lying on the ground, bleeding to death by a gunshot wound to the stomach. Hurrying to her side, he grasped her small hands firmly in his palms, and tears streamed down his face. One of his own had just shot his true love and it was too late to call for help, enough blood was out of her system that she was slowly failing in his arms. He only had one thing to say to her, and that was, “I love you.”
P.S. No I did not cheat, I wrote this in an hour, an honorable achievement for me I must say (though its only four hundred something words.)