Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. Simple as that.
Before you read 800-something words of nonsense that I came up with in, oh I don't know, half an hour, I'd just like to say that Castle is amazing and that writing about it does the show no justice at all. I'll introduce Castle and Beckett and all the other good stuff if I don't scrap the story first. I'd appreciate some reviews, as this is my first time writing about it. thanks(:
The clicks made by her stilettos echo in the night as she walked through a dark alley in New York City. The hustle and bustle of the city never ceased to amaze her, as she came from a small town in the South. Her friends always wondered why she walked the several blocks to her apartment and in heels, no less, but she liked to think as she walked. A dark shadow began to form behind her as she continued down the lane, and she chuckled lightly. Fate was throwing clichés left and right.
"You know, I could always get a restraining order against you. You're lucky I'm very patient." Her mocking tone cut clear across the alleyway. She gradually stopped in her tracks.
"Oh, but that would ruin the game for you, wouldn't it? You love the thrill of it all, don't you, girly? Life hasn't given you enough yet?" A dark chuckle resonated from the man's chest, and the girl shivered in her trench coat, hand slowly moving up to the holster at her waist to touch the cold metal of a .45. Her plans to turn around and face her creeper flew out of the window as her stomach began to clench.
"I've seen you, you know. Hanging around. With my past, I should expect it. But you're different. I bet you read books, though. You seem like the type; maybe Richard Castle novels?" What are you doing? This isn't a game, you know. Your luck's gonna run out soon, and karma's a bleep. She couldn't help but step back a little, and she was dismayed to find that her knees were trembling.
"Me? No, I don't. I think reality is just fine for me. But you do. You're in your own little world, aren't you, love? No matter how grounded your little friends think you are. You haven't even told them about me, have you? So independent, so foolish; this place is a crime magnet, sweetheart. It isn't going to get any more dangerous than this. Turn around!" Suddenly, his gravelly tone turned sharp and an echo resounded around them.
She slowly turned on her heel and squinted at the sight of an empty passageway. He must have ducked behind the trash bin. Good. Now…I'm about halfway home. The 12th precinct isn't far from here. Doesn't that Beckett chick work there? Detective Katherine Beckett and Richard Castle graced many a cover of the most popular newspapers and magazines throughout the years of their partnership, and she was arguably the best homicide cop in the city. Besides, she'd always want to meet Castle in person; his books were amazing. Gritting her teeth uncharacteristically, she called out.
"Cut to the chase, creep. You see my outfit? All. Freaking. Black. I had to watch one of my best friends being lowered into the ground in a godforsaken coffin and then I spent all freaking day comforting the rest of my best friends. No matter what they say, whatever killed her was not random gang violence. It wasn't. I think it was you. I don't have to explain everything, because you already know how I figured it out, don't you? You like getting in my head, too. I'm on to you, you sick bastard. I swear on every fiber of my body that I will take you down. I don't know who you are, who you work for or why the hell you're doing this, but-" here her eyes began to water.
"That's a very brave speech, kitten, but don't you know that if I killed your little friend, then I can probably kill you too? And like last time, they'll never know it was me. If you dig a little, you'll remember something and it'll tell you why. And it'll hurt, oh trust me, it will hurt your conscience. Your past can bite you in the ass, don't you know? Especially with death and family and tragedy. So here's the deal. For every day you work with whatever cops you whine at, one of your friends is gonna die, starting tomorrow morning.. You can deal with that, or call me on this phone," he reached around the bin and slid a chunky phone to her feet, "and I'll tell you everything. I'll even give you a little chance to turn me in. It won't work, but it's a chance." The man sighed. "This is so cliché, but you like novels, so here it is. Turn around, kitten, so I can leave. Like I said, I can put a bullet in your brain faster than you can say oops, so use that brain of yours."
She turned around again, clenching her fists and counting to ten. Her eyelids shot open as she whirled around; he was gone. Looking at her wrist, her old watch read 9:53 PM. Twelfth Precinct, here I come.