(Hey guys!
I haven't written anything in a while, apart from a few short stores, etc. so I thought, hey, why not start a new story? So here's my new project, Making Deals with the Devil. Hope you all enjoy!)
Story: Making deals with the Devil.
Chapter: Prologue.
Summary: A short introduction to the lives of the two main characters. A certain young man puts his 'skills' to use...what could possibly go wrong?
Rating: T (for language).
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters used in this story, I only own the story line! :)
Making Deals with the Devil.
Prologue.
This was, by far, his luckiest day yet. The dark haired man leaned against the red brick wall, feeling the blood pumping through his veins and the pulse throbbing in his neck. Placing a hand in his pocket, he felt the cold barrel of his gun; a small pistol, but fully loaded. Like he needed it! He watched his target with interest and smiled to himself. No, he didn't need a gun, not for this one. The woman looked to be around her middle 20's, small build, slender and well...single? The man shook his head. Yes, she was beautiful, if not gorgeous...but he had to focus on what was lying on the floor next to her. His eyes trailed from her long, slender legs to a small leather bag, leaning against the metal chair leg. One handle slipped onto the floor, leaving the opening wider for him. A small smart-phone was just about visible in one of the inside pockets, then an iPod, headphones, a red leather purse and car keys. Also, he could have sworn she packed away a small digital camera earlier. He held his breath, thanking his lucky stars and then stepped out of the alleyway, walking calmly towards her table. His heart stopped when suddenly a smaller, dark haired girl sat next to her, a tray of drinks in one hand. He cursed, watching as the two woman laughed about something. Then, an idea came rushing into his head. Even better, now she was distracted! He felt himself relaxing at this realisation and now, only a few feet away from the table, he felt completely calm. Slowing a little, he let his right shoulder drop, and gliding past her confidently, swooped down to grab her bag.
"Sango, your bag!" He felt himself automatically burst into a sprint and he made a futile attempt to hide the bag beneath his leather jacket. He jumped over a couple of stray bin-bags and ran as fast as he could down the street, leaving the shouting and scraping of chairs behind him. His pulse was racing. He leapt over a pile of boxes, pushed past a old man, slowing down a little to throw a quick 'sorry' over his shoulder. As he did, he caught sight of the woman, now with a tight denim jacket thrown over her tank-top. He was genuinely surprised. He was a fast runner, a very fast runner and yet this woman, in a skirt and heels was chasing him. He cursed. Not just chasing him, catching up with him. He pushed himself forward, just missing a crowd of school children. God-dammit!
"Stop!" He heard her shouting behind him and laughed in disbelief. His breathing was erratic and his thighs burnt from the sudden chase. He caught sight of a thicker crowd of people and pushed into them, taking a sharp left and darting into a crowded shop. Looking around he caught sight of her tiny yellow skirt disappearing into the crowd and turned, finding the stairs quickly and running towards them.
An arm suddenly came out in front of him and thudded against his chest, knocking him back slightly. He glared at the interference, a bulky security guard, before pushing him aside roughly.
"God dammit, get out of the way!" He shouted, causing a few people to look up in shock. Finally reaching the top of the stairs he found a doorway and stepped out into a small corridor, probably the shop's office blocks. He tread carefully, not wanting to be heard when the door suddenly slammed shut behind him and he whirled round.
"Police! Stop what your doing and get down on the ground! Now!" The woman's voice behind him made him stop. He couldn't believe it, turning his head slowly he saw her. This woman, whoever she was, has followed him all the way here! She strode towards him confidently and suddenly pressed a knife against his back. He exhaled sharply, his pulse still racing, the adrenalin still coursing through his veins. A knife? Who the fuck carries a knife around a busy shopping centre?
"Who the hell are you?" He panted, before he felt something cold snap over his wrist. Then, she swiftly wrapped a leg around his and pulled, sending him crashing onto the floor in a heap. He groaned, kicking his leg out defensively but she bent down and pressed a knee into his back, stopping him, and leaned over to look down at him.
"Big mistake, asshole. I'm a police officer and you, are under arrest." She spat. He lifted his head up to look round, the knife now pressed against his thigh precariously. He let his head thud back onto the floor. I knew his was bad. I knew it. She's a god-damn cop! He struggled again until suddenly he felt the cold metal of the knife she held, slip through his clothing. He flinched. Had she cut him? He tried to move underneath her but she pressed her knee down harder into his back, making him groan again.
"My bag, where is it?" She demanded, unaware of the pain he was in.
"My jacket-" He was cut off and she roughly pulled the leather bag out from underneath him. He tried to move his arms, but the cold metal around his wrists told him he was handcuffed. His leg hurt, bad. He heard her pull out the small smart phone from her bag and bit his lip to stop from making a sound as she got off him. As she continued to tap away calmly at the keys, Miroku pulled himself up and leaned against the cold corridor wall.
"Hello? This is Officer Taijiya, I've got a man, early twenties, armed and dangerous..yes. Oh! Right, thank you." She flipped her phone shut and crossed her arms, looking down at him with a smirk.
"They're already on their way." The man scowled up at her, tugging again at the hand-cuffs.
"Armed? Since when the fuck was I armed?" He asked. She rolled her eyes and dropped a gun onto the floor in front of him with a clank.
"Since you did a pathetic job of hiding it." She answered. He sighed, banging his head onto the plaster behind him. The distant sound of a siren rang out from below them and they both looked towards the door. She moved first, hooking an arm underneath his and dragging him to his feet. His leg throbbed where she'd injured him, and he wondered if she was aware of it.
"Hey officer, I got this." He said irritably, and stood up straight, towering over her.
"That's Officer Taijiya, to you." She corrected him, and he nodded with a roll of his eyes.
"I'll try to remember that." She pushed him forward through the two double doors, choosing to ignore the obvious sarcasm in his tone.
"Could you walk a little faster, sir."
"...Sir?" He mimiked, making her grit her teeth in annoyance.
"Well what the hell do you want me to call you?" She hissed, guiding him roughly down the stairs. He let the question linger and then looked up at the onlookers and mess he'd caused, before a fat uniformed cop strolled towards them, a clipboard in hand, a look of sudden recognition on his face. He sighed.
"Miroku. My name is Miroku."
(A/N: Well, there's my prologue out of the way!
I really don't have a detailed plan for this one, although I know exactly what I want to happen. I'll try to update as much as possible, so please, review if you want more!)