Accountants with Guns - West

Frsssshhh went the metal on the roofs of the warehouses. The rain made the term "raining cats and dogs" sound like a walk in the park. This rain poured ridiculiously over the city. A panting man ran through the dark, cold streets. If it hadn't been for the rain, maybe someone would hear the echoes of this man's gasps for air. He ran through the area, ready to let his lungs burst. His whole body was soaked from sweat and freezing rain. Yet he didn't stop fleeing.

Every so often- as he ran recklessly- he'd look back direction behind him. Amidst the fog and rain he'd catch a glimpes of a figure. Of course, he'd only see if the figures was there to keep running. He begged to the skies as he ran for this night to just be a simple thought of a junkfood induced nightmare. At a certain point he began to plead outloud, only to waste the bits of air he was able to use to run away.

The man entered a cluttered warehouse, to try to hide and at least catch some of his breath. To his disavantage, the pipes, walls, and roof were all broken in multiple spots. This would make it less discernable if he made noise or not- so it wasn't a total disadvantage. He ran and hid behind metal containers, beams, and crates. Desperatley, the man searched for his cell phone. By the time he pulled it out, however, he saw that it was wet and useless. He had placed his pda in his briefcase for work, but obviously he had dropped it in his act of fleeing a while ago.

Before he could think of another way to contact help, he heard footsteps closing in on him again. Crisp, clear, and slow footsteps clicked towards him. The man still hadn't fully caught his breath, but he sure as hell felt his predator's slowly creeping upon his neck. He tried slipping by quietly on to the second floor. It was difficult because only two staircases led there- and both were made of rusted up iron. To make matters worse, they were at the sides of the warehouse were it'd be difficult to find an exit route. As he scanned the area in his smogged glasses he noticed that the warehouse he picked to hide in was definatley not the best choice.

WIth the stairs to the walls of the building, the floors above barely took half as much space as the first floor. They made a border around the inside of the old building, in balconies. You could practically see the first floor from any of the top floors, and vice versa. The man tried taking off his tie and throwing it somewhere, to leave a false trail, but he knew that everything was becoming futile. The steps would sometiems stop. At this point he knew not to turn back because all the pauses were just mockery to him. At this point, he couldn't tell wether or not he was crying. His face was too wet, too numb, to discern from tears and rain.

He eventually reached the fifth and final floor. He was cornered. He remembered reading about jumping off buildings and surviving if you rolled correctly. If it were true or not, the man was determined to see the light of day once more, at home with his family.

The man decided to jump, as hiding was a waste of the little energy he had left.He walked to the side opposite of the warehouse door. The man was going to wait till his stalking preadator got close- then he'd jump. This way he'd have enough time to run, if he could move at all at the end of the jump. He heard steps slowly getting louder and closer. He was quivering. Then he noticed an old, long led pipe by his feet. He had a new option. He looked at it, as eventually he his stalker was finally close to him.

He quickly bent down to grab the pipe. As he stood back up, he swung towards his left, turning to his foe. His swing was targeted to his opponent's chest. In failure he saw the dark figure swoop under it fluidly. Her slim right leg moved behind as she grabbed the man's weapon from the other side. With her right leg as support she pulled the pipe in a stron swing- throwing the man off balance and towards the wall. The stalker giggled, letting go of the pipe.

The man was on the floor, gasping in fear. His unathletic business man's body started giving out. He lifted the pipe to momenterally use it as a walking stick to lift himself up. This time he swung downward from his right to the left. The woman quickly slapped backward towards his left. Before he could react with another swing, she swiped at his neck with a quick chop. To the man it felt like pins and needles going from his throat towards his head and chest.

He swung towards her ankles, only to see her quickly toos herself over to his right. Astonishingly she caught herself with her left hand and spinned- kicking him once again in the throat. She caught herself with her other hand, balancing her entire weight on it. She now let her wait fall to the left in a cartwheel form.

The man was now on the floor, feeling lightheaded. His eyes faintly began to close as he looked up to the figure's face. Her black hair covered her eyes.

The man woke up. His body was feeling a bit limp, but he was sure he was standing. He felt really cold, but knew something was holding his hands and neck. He tried to look around, only to be smacked in the head.

"Wh.. Why are you doing this... Trisha?" asked the man in a coarse voice.
"Oh, yeah. Forgot to tell you: My name's not Trisha;" she responded.
"It was all a lie."

"You were so... Nice. You met my family... How can you do this?" He asked as his began to sob.

"Simple, Its my job." She responded.

He felt (although barely) that he was slowly being pushed to the center of the building. But he was on the fifth floor. Suddenly, he felt nubmly his rope on his neck.

"Do you know why its best to kill a man in a storm?" She asked, as she walked close to his ear.

"Because you can't hear him scream." She whispered.

"What are you doing?! Please- don't- "

"Or beg. You can't hear a man beg in a storm." She added.

His legs didn't follow his orders. He was standing, yet felt nothing. He wanted to struggle, and defeat this slim, mere doll of a woman. She nudged him slowly- and somehow he plainly followed her hand's orders. He was being pushed to the center of the building.

"Who are you?! What are you?!" He yelled in fear and anger.

She pushed him. He fell of the edge, screaming as thunder crackled in the muddy night sky. The rope tightened around his neck. He caught a glimpse as he swung that the rope had been thrown over a cieling beam. One end had a massive amount of weight on it. The other: him.

He swung, numb, yet very alive. He gasped, then reached his end. His tongue went blue and his heart stopped beating. The scene looked like suicide. The suicide of a salesman.

The woman put away a needle and flask of orange liquid. She began to head slowly down the stairs from wich she had come. She picked up the businessman's failure of a trail: His tie. As she reached the large doorway, she stopped to look at the man once more.

"My name is Remillia, And I am an accountant of God."