The cold, foggy, windy streets of London ment one thing
to Max. Home. As he cleaned the blood of his hands with
a piece of cloth, he thought to himself why he was here,
and who was the one that made him do these things.
Killing people was his life, it was all he knew.
He didn't know how he got into this world, or even when.
He didn't know his age, but had an idea from his looks.
Max has been doing the dirty deed for as long as he can remember. A gun being held in his hand felt too friendly to him. And at the same time, too familiar.
Max wondered if he was assassinating these people under a good cause. He didn't want other people to think of him as a sick person, killing people without an idea of a reason why. He could hear police sirens, wailing in the distance. They echoed louder and louder as they came closer to Max. However they zoomed by him, without a thought in their heads of who, or what Max was.
An ambulance flew by after them. It too was blazing it's sirens. Max didn't feel guilty for what he did.
To him, it was apart of his life. Like breathing is to live for some, killing is to live for Max.
He knew he had to leave soon, or else they might find him. As he walked catiously down the street, a nearby payphone began to ring. Max stared at it, wondering why it would be ringing, and who would be on the other side. He stepped into the phone booth,
and picked up the phone. Max put it against his ear, and listened. "Hello?" Max asked breaking the silence.
"You did a good thing, now we need you to do something else for us," a mysterious voice began.
"Who are you?"
"That is not important right now, all that matters is what I tell you to do."
Max listened to what he was being told.
"Now the police were somehow contacted. Its beyond my knowledge how, but don't stick around there any longer.
There is an ally down the street from you. In the ally is a milk truck. Knock three times on the back door. I have posted some of our men in it, so they will know if its you or not. Once you have done that you will be home free."
A click followed by an endless dial tone was all that came next. Max hung up the phone, then started to walk down the street looking for the right ally.
As he searched, Max saw a milk truck with its engine running in an ally. He walked up behind it, and knocked three times, just like he was told.
The door slid open, and men wearing black suits came out and pulled him in. The truck began to drive away into the city street. The back of the truck was dark, Max could only see the outline of the men.
One of them then took a flashlight, and shined it into Max's face.
"Are you Spider?" They asked.
The name sounded familiar to him, but Max couldn't find out where he heard it before.
"Yes," Max said unsure if that was the right answer.
The flashlight was clicked off.
Unknown to Max, this would be the ride of his life...
and who was the one that made him do these things.
Killing people was his life, it was all he knew.
He didn't know how he got into this world, or even when.
He didn't know his age, but had an idea from his looks.
Max has been doing the dirty deed for as long as he can remember. A gun being held in his hand felt too friendly to him. And at the same time, too familiar.
Max wondered if he was assassinating these people under a good cause. He didn't want other people to think of him as a sick person, killing people without an idea of a reason why. He could hear police sirens, wailing in the distance. They echoed louder and louder as they came closer to Max. However they zoomed by him, without a thought in their heads of who, or what Max was.
An ambulance flew by after them. It too was blazing it's sirens. Max didn't feel guilty for what he did.
To him, it was apart of his life. Like breathing is to live for some, killing is to live for Max.
He knew he had to leave soon, or else they might find him. As he walked catiously down the street, a nearby payphone began to ring. Max stared at it, wondering why it would be ringing, and who would be on the other side. He stepped into the phone booth,
and picked up the phone. Max put it against his ear, and listened. "Hello?" Max asked breaking the silence.
"You did a good thing, now we need you to do something else for us," a mysterious voice began.
"Who are you?"
"That is not important right now, all that matters is what I tell you to do."
Max listened to what he was being told.
"Now the police were somehow contacted. Its beyond my knowledge how, but don't stick around there any longer.
There is an ally down the street from you. In the ally is a milk truck. Knock three times on the back door. I have posted some of our men in it, so they will know if its you or not. Once you have done that you will be home free."
A click followed by an endless dial tone was all that came next. Max hung up the phone, then started to walk down the street looking for the right ally.
As he searched, Max saw a milk truck with its engine running in an ally. He walked up behind it, and knocked three times, just like he was told.
The door slid open, and men wearing black suits came out and pulled him in. The truck began to drive away into the city street. The back of the truck was dark, Max could only see the outline of the men.
One of them then took a flashlight, and shined it into Max's face.
"Are you Spider?" They asked.
The name sounded familiar to him, but Max couldn't find out where he heard it before.
"Yes," Max said unsure if that was the right answer.
The flashlight was clicked off.
Unknown to Max, this would be the ride of his life...