Sterling's Blood

Forgive Me

It began to rain. My instant reaction was to try and find some cover but I realized within half a second that I wasn't wearing anything worth looking at, nor did I carry anything important. For the first time in years I actually let myself feel the rain on my skin. 

I sat there on the rooftop wearing a blue denim jacket with a hood and my mask. I observed my client in the warehouse that was under construction. There was a large opening where they could be easily seen but considering the timing and the surrounding area, it wasn't a bad place for a shady deal.

The rifle was quite heavy and looked odd in design. The suppressor on it was stupidly large too.

The pain in my legs made the wait feel like eons. Rain would always calm me but.. it wasn't working this time. I tried to make my mind go blank by thinking of random sounds. Soft drumming. Soft strumming. Soft bass. Soft... anything. You could imagine your favourite song for when you're pissed and picture a peaceful, toned down version of it, devoid of any voices too, with an extra instrument or two like a soft trumpet or a little piano and whatnot.

And all of that would relate perfectly to my mindset in this moment.

The moment I had soothed myself with this is when what looked like two men and three women appeared in front of my client. My heart began to race a little. As if I was caught off guard even though I had been impatiently waiting. I had my crosshair pointed directly at the one closest to my client. They all wore the same dark hoodie so it was difficult to get any visual description. 

I began to wonder if my client was a complete dumbass. He was all alone, and there were these five people in front of him arguing with him about something I couldn't give a damn about, with just one sniper according to me who could defend him only once. Twice, tops, if he's lucky.

I didn't know if he had multiple snipers. If he had, it wasn't smart to keep it from me. In that case I would have been more in a more competitive mindset for the money. If he didn't have extra hired guns, that's... idiotic. Or maybe he just couldn't afford more than one.

That didn't matter though because...

The five took off their jackets in an instant to reveal multiple bombs strapped to their bodies.

I was trembling as I pulled away my rifle and audibly whispered in a terrified voice, "What the fuck?!"

Not just because they were suicide bombers.

But because one of them was Brandon.

My client tried to run but he was shot and killed by one of them. I couldn't care less. I didn't care to think much. I wanted to run down there and get Brandon to safety. Sarah had had enough. I had a certain amount of hate for him but still... I no longer wanted him dead. I needed to keep Sarah's pain at a minimum.

I knew my legs were in too much pain to use the stairs. So I used my claws to crawl down the fire escape with the rifle on my back. When I got down, I couldn't help but scream in pain.

I battled my legs while trying to get up. Once I did, I walked across the street, slowly, painfully and went through an alleyway to get to the warehouse. I was trying to run but it was the equivalent of trying to force a bullet out of an empty gun.

I held the rifle in my arms as I walked towards Brandon and the four others who were just casually standing there, looking around.

I yelled, "Brandon! Stop this, look, we can talk it out." as he slowly turned to face me as I painfully walked towards them and the street lights along with the lights inside began to flicker.

"Wallace?! How...?.", he spoke as if he was on the verge of tears. In a real, genuine, tone, sharply contrasting his usual charismatic voice. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't