Purple Lord
Senior Lister
Since @Berlin is currently indisposed,
He froze barely daring to gulp into the musky dusk air punctured by the repulsive rot that had seemed into his already filthy garb, the arm draped around his neck held firm in its grip his bewildered heart, fluttering with despair. He wondered whether it was the tattooed arm or a different one altogether and why they would bother with an obvious drunk such as himself. He didn't have to wait long as he felt the other arm grabbing for his package. 'no! His carefully laid out plan was all going to waste!'
He was so close to his goal he thought wildly, as the mugger grabbed the package and attempted to wriggle it out of his curled up fist. Seeing the resistance the assailant inched the blade closer to the drunk, and in order to command meekness from his prey he sought to shout at him...drawing in his breathe to bellow out was his last mistake on that fateful evening. For the caged drunk threw his head back as far as he could backwards catching the mugger right on the lower jaw, the blow had the desired effect for the mugger was stunned and as quick as that his head had the unfortunate collision with the metal bin and his legs went soft and his world swam by him!
The drunk in the green coat glanced about but no one had noticed the commotion, nor the tattooed mugger who lay cold on the alley. He knelt and checked the man's pulse, while admiring a dragon tattoo on his left arm, he hadn't noticed that back at the dingy apartments not the weird markings on his neck which he could see now that the man lay sprawling his scarf had come undone. Thinking fast the man quickly picked up his foes evil looking blade and untied his scarf..the rule was no DNA, Lockards principle be damned. The man looked pretty banged up and a thick ooze was forming from his nose.
He looked behind one more time and satisfied with his 'clean up of the scene' he vaulted over a low wall and came around his targeted apartment, they had thought themselves so clever by keeping tabs on him from a distance. He wondered who had been sent to monitor him, the tattooes or the painted white, 'no matter' he would not be dissuaded from his goal. He had observed the two storey apartment and knew that he could easily access it from the plumbing by the wall, she had always liked her cigarettes and she would most certainly be at the rooftop scheming, smoking, scheming and smoking some more.
He finally made it to the balcony, and as sure as sh't, there she was..the woman who had divorced him and cleaved 3/4 of his sweat...oh how he had worked to create a dejected man image...and still she had come after him..he walked hidden by the clothes line and crept up behind her silent as a black cat wondering what her last thought would be!
She stared at the gathering dusk, puffing impatiently at her menthol...she had to put him down once and for all, and perhaps the children wouldn't inquire so much about their father...she glanced absentmindedly at an emaciated alley cat licking it's paws..then suddenly the cat glanced right up to her eyes...and she couldn't tell what shocked her..the yellow pair of eyes glancing up at her, or the hand that had clamped her mouth shut..or the hot pain she felt slide into her back.
He turned around as soon as her eyes slid shut, scuttled down the pipes to where the dying tattooes lay and put the knife into his hands. Turned around and headed opposite his apartment...the rest of the list would have to await their day.
He froze barely daring to gulp into the musky dusk air punctured by the repulsive rot that had seemed into his already filthy garb, the arm draped around his neck held firm in its grip his bewildered heart, fluttering with despair. He wondered whether it was the tattooed arm or a different one altogether and why they would bother with an obvious drunk such as himself. He didn't have to wait long as he felt the other arm grabbing for his package. 'no! His carefully laid out plan was all going to waste!'
He was so close to his goal he thought wildly, as the mugger grabbed the package and attempted to wriggle it out of his curled up fist. Seeing the resistance the assailant inched the blade closer to the drunk, and in order to command meekness from his prey he sought to shout at him...drawing in his breathe to bellow out was his last mistake on that fateful evening. For the caged drunk threw his head back as far as he could backwards catching the mugger right on the lower jaw, the blow had the desired effect for the mugger was stunned and as quick as that his head had the unfortunate collision with the metal bin and his legs went soft and his world swam by him!
The drunk in the green coat glanced about but no one had noticed the commotion, nor the tattooed mugger who lay cold on the alley. He knelt and checked the man's pulse, while admiring a dragon tattoo on his left arm, he hadn't noticed that back at the dingy apartments not the weird markings on his neck which he could see now that the man lay sprawling his scarf had come undone. Thinking fast the man quickly picked up his foes evil looking blade and untied his scarf..the rule was no DNA, Lockards principle be damned. The man looked pretty banged up and a thick ooze was forming from his nose.
He looked behind one more time and satisfied with his 'clean up of the scene' he vaulted over a low wall and came around his targeted apartment, they had thought themselves so clever by keeping tabs on him from a distance. He wondered who had been sent to monitor him, the tattooes or the painted white, 'no matter' he would not be dissuaded from his goal. He had observed the two storey apartment and knew that he could easily access it from the plumbing by the wall, she had always liked her cigarettes and she would most certainly be at the rooftop scheming, smoking, scheming and smoking some more.
He finally made it to the balcony, and as sure as sh't, there she was..the woman who had divorced him and cleaved 3/4 of his sweat...oh how he had worked to create a dejected man image...and still she had come after him..he walked hidden by the clothes line and crept up behind her silent as a black cat wondering what her last thought would be!
She stared at the gathering dusk, puffing impatiently at her menthol...she had to put him down once and for all, and perhaps the children wouldn't inquire so much about their father...she glanced absentmindedly at an emaciated alley cat licking it's paws..then suddenly the cat glanced right up to her eyes...and she couldn't tell what shocked her..the yellow pair of eyes glancing up at her, or the hand that had clamped her mouth shut..or the hot pain she felt slide into her back.
He turned around as soon as her eyes slid shut, scuttled down the pipes to where the dying tattooes lay and put the knife into his hands. Turned around and headed opposite his apartment...the rest of the list would have to await their day.