Person of Interest

Chapter 1: Witness

"It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall,
The dark threw its patches down upon me also..."

-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass: "The Dark Patches Fall"

Your POV:

Why, oh why, did I not bring my coat to work?

I scowled bitterly, shivering as I trudged through the empty streets of New York City. The snow crunched beneath me with every step while the wind bit harshly at my skin, raising every hair I had on my body.

Every thing about this was the worst. Twelve AM on a saturday morning, dark, poorly lit city streets, in the middle of a cold snap without a jacket, all after I'd just finished a fifteen hour double shift that had left my feet feeling like I was walking on pins and needles. I was too young for foot pain like that, darnit! ...well, at least the cold numbed them a little.

'I wonder how long it'd take for me to get hypothermia? Hmm... Maybe Ryan would give me time off for that.' 

"P-Please! Please, wait, we can talk about this, I... o-oh God, n-no..."

I came to an abrupt stop at the panicked whimpering that echoed out from the alleyway I was passing. I always tried to help people whenever I could, strangers and friends alike. To me, kindness wasn't a virtue... it was a way of life; that's just how J was raised, I suppose. So naturally, it was second nature for me to stop when I heard or saw someone in distress. It was never too much trouble, and I'd never regretted it before. So I followed my first instinct and looked towards the source of the pained voice...

And froze. 

An icy chill that had nothing to do with the weather shot down my spine and settled heavily in my stomach as I stared, eyes wide as I struggled to process the scene taking place no more than twenty feet away. 

There were two figures in the middle of the alleyway. One of them was on his knees, hunched and trembling in abject terror as he pled for his life to the hulking figure looming over him. The second person was facing away from me, his head and shoulders shrouded in deep shadows. He was enourmous, at least seven feet tall; his intimidating height coupled with his aggressive stance sent a wash of terror screaming through my veins, both for myself and the kneeling man.
 

"sorry buck, no can do; orders are orders," the tall figure said in a low rumble of a voice that was as deep as the shadows that covered him. His tone was sickeningly casual, like he was commenting on the weather or something equally as mundane.

His lazy delivery threw me for a loop; what was he going to do?
 

"you understand, right buddy?" 

The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked echoed through the alley, instantly dashing my confusion and replacing it once again with fear. 

'No...'

The barrel of a hand gun came into view, aimed at the whimpering man's forehead. My heart clenched painfully as he began to sob.
 

'No... No!' 

"we'll make sure the missus and your boy are set, so don't worry 'bout them. sorry again, buck," the man said lowly, sounding genuinely apologetic. He sighed and adjusted his grip on his weapon.