Colt Cain (completed)

Betrayal

All was peaceful in the sunny streets as it had been emptied by police vehicles and barricades. Only idle cars and busy company buildings were surrounding a large rectangular armoured truck on it's escorted journey to a safe destination, guarded by a large force. Inside, mostly dry-sighted old fossils and texts not worth much to most men and women, but a collection of diamonds much more expensive than all who protected it put together. Every corner that wouldn't be driven down would be blocked off to the public, and it would not open back up again until the truck was a safe distance away. The forward wall of SWAT vans stopped suddenly, and the passenger would exit in fully armoured gear to communicate with a garbage truck blocking their way. Their vehicular formation was tight and strong, but also rather loose to avoid a crash when braking. The truck was laying in the middle of the road, it's roaring engine drowned out the sound of the approaching horns and shouting. Two thick men holding each a massive black rubbish bag met with him. they spoke with them for a few moments, then one pulled a heavy machine gun from behind the truck and fired, which threw the entire convoy into a frenzy. Groups of armed officers swarmed to the front of the truck and edged forward to the fake bin-men who had hidden behind their truck, the colleague of their's that had met with then being since knocked unconscious with the butt of a gun, not shot. They would slowly move up the road in a five by five formation, focused entirely on the enemy vehicle. Meanwhile, two other men would come through the back, stealthily take out the few standard officers at the rear of the formation, and secure the back side of the convoy. They did so without failure, whilst the forward team revealed thick protective body armour under their outfits and heavy machine guns, and started a firefight between them and the many officers in front. One man came from a construction site beside them, vaulting over a dormant police bike and taking down two armed officers with his bare hands down in seconds. Whereas the other men wore combat ready outfits, he wore a leather jacket, plain t-shirt and jeans with a matte black motorbike helmet to cover his identity. He would then move on to a large van, booting the door shut as someone attempted to get out. The passenger rapidly leapt out with a gun in hand, seeming to catch the skilled killer off-guard. The trigger-happy youth of the group came from the back side and put a bullet in his skull, the shot rang out through the street and the firefight was cut short. A couple officers from the back line would be sent back and with one stray bullet the plan was in danger. The shooter and the trained killer were signalled to the front of the law enforcers' formation and took cover behind the SWAT vans that were there. The third criminal started drilling into the diamond truck, checking his watch and surroundings as he waited. The firefight continued. The officers sent back were gunned and beaten down as quick as possible and they joined the firefight with their stolen guns.

More officers were on the way. A lot more. All five criminals came together to their objective just as the drill was done. The shooter and trained killer would open up the back doors from the side and the driller and two criminals would fire upon anyone inside. The two on the doors would cover them as the others identified the diamonds. They cheered and the shooter sprinted inside to celebrate alongside them. But as their trained hire stepped in, the tallest of them, the leader, raised a handgun to his chest and fired once before he could even enter the vehicle properly, a growing smug grin on his face.

As officers swarmed the scene like bees at the hive, the diamond truck drove away and would soon have the diamond transferred with the team to a casual van, the truck flying off into a building and exploding as intended. All minus their trained killer would get away scott-free. Luckily for him, and despite the gun he was shot with from a few metres away, the ambulances that appeared with the heavy loads of officers managed to keep him stable. He was hospitalized for just under a year and released a week before the anniversary of his shooting. There would be a lasting affect on his body, in which his stamina was permanently reduced, even though the body armour he was wearing beneath his outfit was military grade stuff. He would need an inhaler and passing the limit doctors set for him could end in an asthma attack or reopen the wound, and the chances of survival would be slim without instantaneous medical attention. After many surgeries and examinations over the year, officers took him in to be questioned and kept until a lawyer could be arranged for him. There was no identity to his finger prints, nor record to his face. Until just then he might as well have never existed. They threw him around discreetly as much as they could until he was shoved in a cell next to a sleeping man, who was awoken by the slam of the cell door. Many would have overlooked him, but the stone cold killer unidentified as Colt Cain, labelled as 'John Doe', was finally being brought to justice.

Ingeniously, law enforcement wouldn't reveal his name or whereabouts due to recommendation on his behalf - knowing of his vulnerable position could bring unwanted attention from more than just the old team. He had a reputation in many different places, his face on the news could throw a wrench in all of them. He'd committed almost every major crime in most of the countries in the world, some used his name for internet wide creepypastas. Criminals and innocents alike had theories and stories about him, all bone chilling horrors. Now, he was nothing more than a weak, common crook with only the knowledge to overpower some of the government's best. The killer simply sat with his elbows on his knees and his hands hanging lifelessly between his legs. He had a lot to think about.

The sleeping crook beside Colt sat up. He just sat and said nothing. An awkward silence was in the air like a toxic gas, choking the killer's drunk cellmate. He looked over his temporary roomie, his looks and his outfit. He was noticeably handsome, even to a drunken man's eyes. A young, smooth looking face suggested a hot-headed twenty-something year old caught graffitiing walls, but the blank and emotionless expression suggested an intense amount of experience and discipline. His black hair was kept in a neat, short and simple faux hawk that lead into a light stubble beard. He dressed a more casual way, a black leather jacket over a plain t-shirt, and a pair of cargo trousers and black boots, his newer yet practically the same outfit hand-picked from the hospital.
  Finally, the drunk man blurted out words like an opera singer, loud and expressive, swinging his arm over the shoulder of his fellow offender. "Dave. They got me on drunk and disorderly, and that's all they'll sentence me for. If ya know what I mean." He smirked with great pride as his silent cellmate reluctantly shook his hand with the wrong one. He didn't even look.
  Colt spoke with no expression, as his dead, grey eyes suggested about his personality. Absolutely no interesting in a conversation. "Colt." He parted his fingers from his lips to introduce himself, his eyes glared at the cell bars. "They got me on stealing a collection of diamonds worth more than twenty buildings twice this size."
Dave's face exploded as his eyes bulged out his head. "Well. Certainly a story to go for. Bet you'll run the prison." He retracted all contact, creating a space between them that he felt safe with.
  "They won't sentence me. I've some sentencing of my own to tend to." He sounded like there was nothing inside of him, but there was really enough rage to fill the world. Rightfully so. What would you do if your boss used you with the promise of millions, and then attempted to kill you the second you laid eyes on the prize of your dreams? What would you do, and to what lengths would you go to in order to do it?