A/N: You are NOT supposed to know the gender of the main character yet. So don't comment about that.
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Prologue
Shoot! I thought as panic finally set in my thoughts. I had been running for around twenty minutes at full speed and I was running out of places to, well, run. Hair stuck to my forehead as beads of sweat rolled down the sides of my face. I glanced over my shoulder as I ran, my last bit of hope breaking to pieces at the sight of the men dressed in black still running behind me. I cursed under my breath as I continued to wherever my legs took me.
I quickly glanced behind me and saw that the men weren’t there anymore. As I turned back, air slapped against my face and I immediately regretted turned my face in the first place. I knew they were a stubborn bunch—after all; they had been trailing me for a while now. I turned into the first building my eyes caught—a tall gray building with numerous windows on every floor, light illuminating most of them. I sprinted up flights of stairs as I sloppily navigated the building, ignoring the stares I was getting.
I continued up more and more flights of stairs, still not being able to shake the feeling I was still being followed. I threw open a door, expecting another set of stairs, but instead, I was hit with a [wave/gust] of cold air. I slowly walked forward, racking my brain for my next move. I was usually able to conceal my emotions for the most part, or wave them off as nothing; but this time, I was seriously cornered. My hands tightened around the top of the metal railing surrounding roof of the building. There’s got to be some building that I can jump onto from this one—
“You gave us a bit of a run, eh?” A voice from behind me asked. I whipped my face around only to see the men in black. I cursed under my breath as I turned my body around to face them.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, taking a defensive stance. “Who sent you?”
“You seem to have done a number on our people last week. All we want from you is compensation,” he sneered.
I raised my eyebrow. Compensation? Ha. More like they want me dead, I thought grimly. I glanced to either side; I was completely surrounded.
One of the men pulled out a gun. I smirked. “A gun?” I sneered. “I can lift a truck with one hand and you expect me to die with a bullet?”
The man’s eerie laugh was cut off with a loud bang that rung in my ears. My right shoulder jerked backwards and the pain sank in. The sound of my shoes scraping against the cement seemed to reach my ears in slow motion as weightlessness consumed me. A deadening sensation spread through my chest. Heh, I thought, they beat me at my own game. Seems like gravity’s not on my side this time. Then I wondered if that was the last thought I’d ever have.
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The boy put two fingers on the wrist of the figure that lay on the ground. He had surprised himself by being as calm as he was in this situation. He immediately pulled his fingers back at the touch of a warm liquid. He narrowed his eyes. Blood, he thought grotesquely. He ran his fingers down the dry pavement, leaving two trails of bright red that seemed to fade out into the cement ground. He stood up, brushing any form of debris off of his pants, and then giving a long stare at the body that lay limply in front of him.
He knew this person very well; though it wasn’t the same vice versa. You could call this boy a type of…stalker. He didn’t prefer to be called that, though. He had decided that he was more of an observer—something like a scientist—that watched interesting happenings.
He slid his right hand into a pristine white glove, pulling it up until the smallest wrinkles had disappeared. He crouched down in front of the body, mentally sighing at having to come near the crimson liquid that was spreading across the cement. He brought his hand to the left, bottom-most pocket of the jacket the figure was wearing, reaching into it, pulling out a cell phone and flipping it open. He looked through the contact list, which wasn’t too difficult considering there were only four contacts labeled 001-004. He scrolled back to the first number and clicked it, holding down the button a little longer than normal. As soon as the call connected, he put it on speaker and uttered a single word into the speakers: blood. The voice on the other side of the call began to rant worried babble and finally ended with repeated cursing and a rough thud.
He stood up after placing the cell phone on the ground beside the limp. Pulling the glove off by the fingertips, he carefully put it back into the breast pocket of his coat. Quietly turning on his heels, he walked out of the alley with silent footsteps, immediately blending into the nightlife of the city.
