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| Heart of Corruption, Part One | Started by: Thehawk on Jan 10, '09 21:30 |
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NOTE: This is not an RP! Please do not post RP replies, thank you! CHAPTER ONE ~~~~~~~~~~~ Joseph Daniels leaned against a warehouse wall in a suit, a suitcase in one hand. He flicked away the butt of the cigarette, and took another of his imports from the silver engraved flip-top cigarette holder, and lit it with the matching lighter. He took a big puff, and, for the fifth time in an hour, cursed. "Where is he? He was supposed to be here an hour ago!" said Joseph. Rain pounded againt the concrete that was above his head. He scratched his brown hair from underneath his widely-brimmed black hat, and looked at his watch. A quarter til seven. After another ten minutes and two more cigarettes, his contact finally came down the sidewalk, holding an umbrella. "Ah, Mr. Daniels, it is nice to see you again," said the contact, smiling slightly. "Where the hell have you been?! I've been here for over an hour!" exclaimed Joseph. "But, I do have the money. I'm just curious to where my twenty pounds are." "Mr. Daniels, I regret to inform you that you are under arrest for posession with intent to sell. Down on the ground," said the contact. "Fuck you! I'm not in posession of anything!" said Joseph, drawing his gun and opening fire on the contact with his hidden Saturday Night Special, the cigarette still in his mouth. Cops rushed onto the scene, shooting their Snubnose .38s. Joseph Daniels was hit, and he fell. The cops rushed forward and grabbed him. "How much are those other dealers paying you to set me up?" asked Joseph scornfully. "Stand him up. STAND HIM UP!" ordered the police sergeant. He took the shotgun he'd brought and shot Joseph in the leg, blowing it off. Joseph yelled in agony. "Shouldn'ta ran your mouth, should ya?" asked the sergeant, turning away. "Sergeant?" asked Joseph. "What is it, Daniels?" replied the sergeant, turning back around. Joseph spit on the cop's shoe, and laughed. It was the last thing he ever did, as the cop took his .38 and shot a hole through his head. The cigarette was burning on the concrete, rain drops falling all around it. The last cigarette Joseph smoked was crushed by the sergeant's boot, as if to signify snuffing out the dealer's life. |
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