A man ran through an alley. He held a duffle bag tightly in his hands, and he stumbled and threw wide eyed glances toward every noise he heard. The night was dark; the moon was mostly obscured by clouds. It would probably rain.
The man seemed to think he was being pursued, but anyone who saw him would have sworn otherwise. There was no one to see him though, or even pursue him. It was after midnight, and there was static in the air that precluded a thunder and lightening storm. Any other night the man loved the quiet before a storm, but tonight the silence just made him weary. The package he carried was nothing he wanted to be caught with, and ordinarily he would never have agreed to deliver it. He'd just lost his job, though, and the sum money he'd been offered was just too high to pass up.
He only had another block to go, and he thought that, if he'd gotten this far, the probability that he would be caught would be slim, and shrinking with every step he took. Nevertheless, the tingles running down his spine didn't cease, and the feeling that he was being followed only grew as clouds rolled further in.
His steps quickened; if he could just deliver this package and collect his money, he could go home. He'd never accept another job like this again. The paranoia was overwhelming and, as far as he was concerned, this feeling of danger was very overrated. The only thrill he'd seek from that point on, he thought to himself, would be tall roller coasters.
It was stupid to get involved in the drug business. Not only were gangs involved, which was easily danger enough, but this city was also owned by... What did they call him, again? Red Blood? No... Red... Well, it was Red Something-or-other, anyway, and from what the papers said about him, one would have to be dense to cross him.
A whistle interrupted his thoughts, and the man immediately went white. The voice that followed made him freeze. It was a mixture between robotic and demonic, and neither made him feel particularly at ease, nor did the fact that it said his name. "Whew, you're doin' a baaad thing, Danny." Dan dropped his package and swung around to see where the voice was coming from, but the area behind him was empty. Another whistle made his heart pound, and drew his attention upward, to the rooftop.
There stood a figure, cloaked in darkness, and he barely had a second to process this before the figure launched itself off the roof. Dan was knocked roughly to the ground, and his last, wide eyed thought before his head cracked against the pavement was, 'oh my God, his face is red.'
"Nighty-night, Danny."