Avenues and Alleyways

Fine pearls of sweat glistened on the top of his upper lip as Johnny slowly turned around, facing the dark gun-barrel.
As if on command, all of the blood rushed from his head – his feet went numb, and for a brief second he was convinced he was going to faint.

The other man’s eyes were hard as steel.
“Put your hands where I can see them.”

Ironically enough, his first instinct was to burst out laughing. This wasn’t real – it was some sort of twisted joke; it must be.
Johnny could feel the corners of his mouth pulling slightly upwards.
“Come on, man – what d’you think you’re doing?” he tried to back away a few steps, but somehow his legs refused to move an inch.

Noticing the so-called smile on his prey’s lips, the dark-haired man’s eyes narrowed dangerously – but his voice remained as calm and smooth as always:
“This isn’t a game, Johnny. Now – empty your pockets, put the contents on the ground and then raise your hands so that I can see them.”

There was a short moment of stunned silence.

“All right?” he added – smirking slightly when he saw his victim’s pale white face.

The street lights didn’t reach the alley behind Mark & Spencer’s. The surroundings were clad in shadows, but Johnny could hear his captor moving closer as he shakily bent down, placing a filthy handkerchief, a worn wallet, a Colt .45, and a pack of condoms on the wet ground.

“A gun and a condom? Whatever you had planned for tonight, Johnny, you can count me out!” the large Italian-looking man grinned, his head cocked to the side as he studied his nervous prey. “A little antsy, are we, Johnny?”

His laughter boomed throughout the alley, ricocheting off the walls. Johnny felt shrills of fear creeping up and down his spine.
“I’m not scared of you”, he managed to choke out, though the sound of his uneven voice begged to differ.

“Aw, sure you are, Johnny, we both know that. Lying isn’t healthy, you know. Could get you killed someday.” The hit man grinned again as he took another step closer, watching his target pull backwards until his back hit the brick wall.

Dead end.

“Now”, the murderer continued casually, “I’m sure you know why we’re here, don’t you? You see, Johnny; Max isn’t too pleased with you, to say the least. He’s helped you through some pretty rough times; he supported you with money when you lost all your stocks last year, he got you out of prison when you got caught money laundering this spring – and he even had your grandfather mysteriously…‘disappear’ so that all of his savings went to you.”
The hit man sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. “And how do you repay him? By refusing when he asked for a tiny little favour in return. Now, that’s not good manners, Johnny. Didn’t your mother teach you better than that?”

“I didn’t… I-I can’t, I mean-“

“So”, the hit man went on, as if he hadn’t heard his victim’s weak stutters, “Max got a little irritated. Quite understandable. And he sent you several reminders – but you simply chose to ignore them, didn’t you, Johnny? Hoping that the problems would go away if you hid like the coward you are. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’, right?”

There was a pause.

The assassin watched Johnny – clearly waiting for a protest of some kind, but when it didn’t come, he simply shrugged his shoulders.
“All right, then. Well, I guess this is it.” He raised his weapon, aiming at the heart of the man in front of him. “So long, Johnny-boy. Can’t really say I’m going to miss your sorry arse.”

His thumb lingered on the firing pin.

“NO! No, please, no! I’ll do anything! I’ll pay you! I’ll pay you!”

The assassin snorted. “Pay me? You think you can pay your way out of this? Nah, kid; it’s too late for that. Money won’t cut it.”

But he had yet to pull the trigger and Johnny saw his opportunity.
“I’ll do it” he said eagerly, sweat dripping down his forehead. “I’ll do it – I’ll do what Max wanted me to do in the first place; just don’t shoot me, don’t shoot me, man. I’ll do it.”

A low rumble echoed far away and as Johnny threw a quick glance at the night sky, he saw thick, dark clouds sweeping in, effectively hiding the stars and the bright full moon. A chilly breeze blew by, making the autumn leaves quiver in the treetops.

A storm was on its way.

The assassin made a pout with his lips and stroked his solid chin – pretending to consider the offer.
“Hmm, you’ll do it, yeah? Well, isn’t that just so, very generous of you, Johnny! Now we won’t have to leave a horse head in your bed!” Once again his deafening laughter filled the alley and Johnny relaxed slightly, sucking in a deep breath through his nose.

“Ah, never get sick of that joke”, the hit man chuckled, drying the corner of his eye with the back of his suit sleeve. “You’ve gotta love ‘the Godfather’.” He cleared his throat: “However – I’m afraid that’s just not possible at the moment. You see; Max’s already had someone else do it for him. Someone who’s loyal and trustworthy, and – and this is the most important part, lad – someone who understands that the Family is the most important thing of all, and really and truly respects it. That is: someone the exact opposite of you, eh?”

And Johnny understood. He could tell by the assassin’s nonchalant tone and confident smirk. This was really it. There was no way to get himself out of this mess – nothing he could say or do. It was too late.
His life was going to end in a cold, dirty alley behind a local shopping mall; his body was probably going to be dumped in some garbage container, covered with banana skins and smelly diapers.

He was going to die.

Something warm and wet streamed down his trousers, leaving a dark trail on his jeans, dropping down on the asphalt.

The assassin’s eyes widened and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Aw, Johnny, come on! You’re actually soiling yourself?! I mean; I did know that you are the most spineless little fraction of a man I’ve ever met in my life – but this is just pathetic!”

Another rumble of thunder – a bit louder this time – interrupted him, and soon the raindrops began to tumble down from the heavy clouded sky; hesitantly at first, but then with more power.

The hit man squinted at the sky, drops of rain sticking to his eye lids. “Huh. Well, I guess that’s going to make the whole ‘getting-rid-of-the-bloodstains’ part a whole lot easier.”

He then sighed impatiently and pulled down the lingering pin of the gun, placing his index finger on the trigger. “Playtime’s up, lad. This is a brand new Armani suit, and I have no intention of letting it get ruined by something as simple as a little rain. On your knees.”

He watched coolly as the legs of his victim folded underneath him when Johnny softly fell to the ground. The young man’s face was as pale as a ghost’s, his jaw hung open, tears flooding silently down his cheeks. The heavy downpour had made his shaggy dark blonde hair stick tightly to his skull, looking almost black in the dark night.

Suddenly, the lights went out on the street, followed by a sinister rumble.

The assassin took a step backwards, his dead eyes never leaving his prey as he went into a more comfortable position; his feet parted a little bit more, his shoulders sunk down a fraction of an inch, and he released his left hand from its tight grip around the pistol, letting it hang freely down his side.

“Better say your prayers, kid. You’re going to need them.”

Then – lightning cracked.