Served Cold II

Berlin

Chief Lister
The limp he had developed for this singular purpose had become almost natural, so as he turned to close his cheaply whitewashed door to his hovel he did a pathetic swoon and a sudden hoot of laughter to his left reminded him of his task ahead.

He managed to lock up behind him, and his hand snaked into his jacket and pulled out the flask and took a mighty swig. He then proceeded to the mean looking young couple hanging out at the stair well.
The painted face of the girl contorted in disgust at his sight, but the tough looking boy whose tattooed arms were wrapped around the girl simply ignored the filthy man.

As he went down the stair well he felt something wet fall on his shoulder, he turned to look at it and found fresh yellow phlegm on it. He looked up and saw the malicious look of the painted face looking quite pleased with itself, it was then he realized she had just spat on him. He thought to say something back but remembered the arms and thought better of it.
Dejected he proceeded with his short drop to the lit streets and disappeared into the crowd rushing home to their loved ones or loved possessions.

The walk to the end of the block was one he had practiced over the last two years and he knew it by heart, heck he knew the entire block by heart and knew which alley to prowl in search of aggressive drug pushers who had no problem slitting your throat for looking at them the wrong way.

He knew that it would be deserted since there was some parade of some sort, and alley dwellers seldom let such a gathering of starry eyed people return to their homes with their possessions intact. He walked into the dust bin laden narrow alley and walked swiflty abandoning the limp and eventually breaking into a trot.

At the end of the alley he could see the street lights but that wasn't his target, along the wall was a huge, metallic grey bin that held in its disgusting bosom his second act.

He leaped into it and found himself feet first in rotting vegetables, undettered he separated the chaff as it were, and at the bottom he found what he was looking for. A dark plastic paper which held what seemed to be a light bag, he dropped from the bin reeking to high heavens but looking pleased with himself.
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The smug smile lasted about half a dozen seconds before he felt a cold blade on his throat, and a brutal arm twisted his arm behind his back.

As the pain shot up his arm, his only saving grace in his bewildered mind was the thought that if his assailant wanted him dead.. he would be.
 
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