The Dark Angel of Alcatraz (Completed)

The Arrest.

"Police! Open up!" The wooden door with its cracked central glass pane rattled dangerously on its hinges as the officers on the other side pulled on the small brass handle.

The once quiet and dark streets outside were lit up with blue and red flashing lights from the police cars. Sirens sounded out over the sleepy neighborhood.

The wounded and badly bleeding hit man Brian managed to drag himself painfully along the ground to the front door where the officers stood behind it, preparing to knock the door down. He reached up a bloody hand to the key and turned it, instantly unlocking the door and allowing the officers their access to the house. After taking care of Elizabeth with the rag soaked in chloroform he had shot himself again in the leg with his shiny silver gun.

With weapons drawn at the ready and several commands being shouted from every direction the armed policemen came running inside with brute force the second they heard the click of the door being unlocked.

One of the last officers through the door holstered his firearm and knelt down to help Brian. "Can you walk?" he asked with a young voice.

"I don't..." Brian winced in severe pain as the rookie officer touched the wound on his leg. "I don't think so, she shot me in the leg."

"Let me get the paramedics in here and help you." The officer stood back up and ran outside, calling for medical assistance.

"We've got her!" Two of the older and obviously more experienced policemen came back towards the doorway they had entered through just moments before, bringing Elizabeth's blood soaked and still unconscious body with them. Another two officers both young and shocked from the sight of what they had just walked into had been ordered to get the deceased photographed and any hard evidence they could collect. They were currently standing over Simon's small and bullet ridden corpse, holding back tears as one snapped several photographs and the other looked around for anything that could be construed as any sort of corroborating evidence.

Brian watched as the two young men worked the job they obviously hadn't been doing very long and fought an emotional battle to separate themselves from the horror of what they were seeing on the ground before them. He guessed another two were doing the same with Jonathon's body.

Two male paramedics dressed in white walked in through the open doorway and carefully lifted Brian onto a collapsed stretcher before gently strapping him in and padding the two bullet wounds.

"What the hell is that?" Brian asked in a fearful tone (and a little too quickly for someone that had just been shot twice) as the older of the two paramedics filled a rather large syringe from a glass vial.

"It's just a light sedative so that we can clean up your wounds without hurting you too much and it will help you go to sleep for a bit sir. Just lay back and relax, you've obviously been through a lot tonight."

"I don't want to fucking sleep," Brian spat angrily at the young medic attempting to clear a spot on his arm to inject the fluid. "I want to kill the damn bitch that shot me."

"Sir, please calm down," the paramedic replied getting ready to restrain Brian if the need arose.

"No I'm not going to fucking calm-" Brian immediately stopped arguing and cringed with a slight shout of pain as the medic jabbed the sharp needle deep into his upper right arm. "Hey! I didn't say I wanted that!"

"Sir." The medic that had just injected him pressed his hand onto Brian's chest to stop him from getting up. "Please just lay back and relax, this will kick in within a few seconds and everything will feel much better."

Brian struggled for a second or two before giving up and laying his head back on the stretcher, letting the sedative take over and dull the excruciating pain in his arm and leg.