The Time

Chapter one

Gasp. Pant. Gasp.
Gasp. Pant. Gasp.
I ran as fast as my legs would let me. My arms pumped harder and harder until I almost tripped several times. Almost. Of course I would never let that happen, always catching myself before I could hit the floor with an ungraceful thud, a crack and a bullet in my back.

I wore an old white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows and a black bullet proof vest to match my black boots and trousers. I also had hair darker than my soul in a high ponytail, keeping out of my sweat drenched face.

Breath continued to puff out of my body as I pounded down the street, away from the men chasing me.
Suddenly spinning round to face them, I pulled two of my many guns from my belt and emptied their chambers into my pursuers.

They all went down.
Three got up.
Shit.
I run again...

This is what happens when it's not someone's time to die; you kill them, they respawn. There are special bullets you can get to permanently kill someone whether it's their time or not. Unfortunately, I'm no longer on a high enough level to get them after I was... Fired.
I went from being a top spy to a low paid gun for hire. Doesn't stop me from working on the side of the angels though.

One of the men is almost on me, back at full vitality and ready to attempt to end me. Yay!

I crash to the ground when he dives and throw an elbow in his face before he can pin me.
I managed to hit him in the cheek but he only grimaces and continues, letting me roll onto my back so he can pull out his knife and stab me.
I'm straddled but manage to catch his hands, the blade inches from my heart, kneeing him in the side a few times as I did so. One blow lands and he falls off me. Not before his friends are on me though, pulling me up and hitting me in the face. Again. And again. And again.

"That's for Marcus." One of them says once they're finished and I'm thrown to the ground. "He says keep the money."
"Be sure to say thanks." I breath, spitting blood and receiving a kick in the ribs for good measure.

They then walk off back to their boss; Marcus. The biggest asshole and shittest poker player I've ever met.

"Haha..." I chuckle bleakly at the thought. "Dumbass..."

I then drag myself up and back to my apartment to clean up and fall asleep drinking a big bottle of self pity. Or vodka. Yeah, vodka definitely tastes better.