mancxvi (mancxvi) wrote in toomanycooks,


Prompt 2
The Intruder

A character is being intruded upon. The details are up in the air, so knock yourselves out.

I figured I'd give it a shot. Fairly simple fare, so feel free to interpret it however you like. Have fun!
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The night had started off calmly, but then again that was how all the nights started. The way they ended though, was another matter. Someone would usually end up hurt for their curiosity. Tonight would be no exception.

"Come on guys, we've got him right here. We can figure out what makes him tick!"

The three bandits knew that they would be paid once their boss got the information about the detective. However, this paycheck wasn't going to come easy.
Pouring a long draw from the nearby whiskey bottle, the young man set one of his pistols on the nearby table. It had been a long few days, and they were only fixing to get longer. Two cases, and both appear to have the same patterns. Don't I just have all the luck? Taking a sip from the glass, he sat down and tried to make sense of the matter at hand. However, the alcohol in his blood was saying otherwise. It didn't matter though...another case, another paycheck, and somehow by the grace of God he'd still be alive to deal with another case.
"So we've established he's a raging alcoholic with a penchant for firearms." It was then that their phone went off. Opening it, the leader of the gang answered. "Yo."

"Change of plans. It's no longer gathering information. Your new orders are to kill Raven Darkblade."

"Got it." He closed the phone, and motioned to one of his men. "Pick the lock."
Raven sat back, sipping tenatively at the whiskey in the glass. How long had it been since he'd gotten her evacuated to a safehouse? How long till she reported in? Obviously too damn long, Raven. The sound of his door creaking open drew his attention, and immediately out of instinct his hand fell to the pistol on the table, the whiskey glass falling to the floor and spilling it's contents all over the floor.

"Just my luck," he muttered as he took cover behind the nearby kitchen counter. He could hear them entering the room, searching. One little, two little, three little idiots, he sang to himself as he took a headcount of how many were hunting him. Sliding the clip out of the handgun, he saw he had six bullets available. Better make these shots count, Raven, he reminded himself.