Crime and Moral: Death of Twilight

Warrior Within
Running.

Panting.

Sweating.

The three things that could signal fear.

And for 30 year old Robert, he had a reason to.

His legs burned like the desperate fire coursing through his frantic heart, and his muscles ached and stung the rest of his body. But, he ran as fast as he could, salty water pouring from his eyes, and a fearful expression on his face. The reason why? His purpose and position had suddenly changed on him, simply by looking at the man on his heels.

Although his breathing seemed too loud, the man could hear his chaser's footsteps sound slowly and carefully, the even breaths he took to radiate his calm aura. Yet, every step was a push for death, a petition that would promise him an unforgiving eternity in Hell.

They were the predator.

He was their prey.

He turned a corner, racing down the maze of an alleyway. He bound and leaped over fallen trash cans, rats, and sleeping cats, who gave a startled screech at the figure who bound past them. But, he didn't care. Even as the incoherent pleas escaped his throat, all he could think about was to escape.

He turned the corner of another building...

...but his heart stopped, when he came to a fenced-in dead end.

His head turned back around, in order to go back the way he came...

...and his next whimpering breath was cut short, when a sword cut through his neck.

As the lifeless body fell, unable to run any longer, the killer raised a hand to his ear to activate the radio mic hooked on. "Target 247D eliminated..."

"...Mission complete."

Manaka Dorifuta nodded in acknowledgement. "Excellent. Return here as soon as possible, and we can return to base."

"Roger that. Out."

With that, the man cut the communication, sitting underneath a shady tree in order to await his partner.