"Don't talk of worlds that never were

The end is all that's ever true

There's nothing you can ever say

Nothing you can ever do..."

The Cure (Burn)

----

The crescent moon provided little light to the deserted streets of London, and even less light to the dark alleys. Closed shop signs buzzed and the only other sound that could be heard was the clippity-clack of a woman running in high heals. Fearful and desperate, the woman was exhausted from running. She knew though, that to stop running would mean her death and so she forced herself to keep moving.

Looking about twenty five years old and in a crimson formal dress, the woman's eyes started to tear up as the idea of death started to take its effect on her. Focused mainly on escaping and living though this horrible nightmare, the woman slowly realized that she couldn't run forever. Loosing her breath, the woman immediately started to searched the street for a place to hide instead. Seeing how easily the shadows hid objects in the alleys, she slid into the nearest one and pressed herself tightly against the brick wall. Breathing deeply and doing her best to stay as silent as she could, the woman could only hope that the shadows would hide her as well.

Then she heard it.

Steps. They pounded in a heavy rhythm like a drum, at first distantly but with every beat it became louder. Closer. Closing her eyes in fear as if not looking would make everything go away, she could only pray that the steps would walk past her and leave her alone. The fear forced her to whine faintly under her breath as the tears gently fell down her pale cheeks. She didn't want to die, she was too young to die.

Abruptly the steps stopped and not a sound could be heard for several seconds but the woman's terrified cries and the buzz of neon signs. She tried her best to stay calm by reminding herself that she won't die, that someone will come to her rescue or that she'll escape. Finally the alarming silence forced her to slowly open her eyes, glancing around the dark shadows in hopes that the stalker would have walked right past but deep down inside she knew that wasn't the case.

Then she saw it.

Standing at the end of the ally was a black silhouette looking back at the frightened woman. Few details could be seen at first but as the figure approached, more features started to appear. It was a woman around the same age as the intended victim and on her face was a pleased smirk. Wearing darker cloths and a trench coat over that, little else could be seen except the golden cross at her neck that reflected the dim light of the moon. That and the black anti-freak glock gun in her hand.

Breathing deeply the hunted woman pushed herself off of the brick wall to quickly continue running down the ally, away from this gun welding woman. She didn't get far before her high heels broke, causing her to fall face first to the ground. Her mind told her to continue to run, escape or die but as she scampered to get up she found it nearly impossible to get back onto her feet and could only then turn onto her back to face her attacker.

Crawling backwards and desperately doing her best to keep the distance from the other woman, she soon felt the cold painful jab of her back hitting a chain link fence and knew there was no other place to go. Even though her eyes were blurry and red, not once did she break the stare she had into the eyes of the stalker.

Standing only a few feet away, the black gun was lifted to take aim at the woman's head, it's movements were sharp and cold as the weapon was put into place. It was obvious that the woman had done this many times before and wasn't hesitant in doing it again. Praying and whimpering the woman could only mutter though her shaky voice one phrase, 'I don't want to die, please, I don't want to die'. It was repeated over and over again, every time less clear as her voice got more like a mutter and her head faintly shook with it.

In a dark deep tone the attacker took no notice of the woman's pleas for her life as she spoke, "Now," she started, not once did the smirk leave her mouth, "the God of peace be with you." The doomed woman's eyes widened greatly to this, her mutterings became so silent they were barely heard and she knew what would be happening next. A paralyzing chill surged though her shaken body as she begged more and more, but the other woman took no notice as she added, "Amen."

A single gun shot echoed off the walls of the ally and silence then soon followed. Finished with the job, the twenty-one year old Brigid Taggart slowly slid her black gun into it's hidden holster under the trench coat. Still smirking she glanced up at the moon before giving a satisfied chuckle to herself, silently leaving the ally. Minutes later the sound of distant police sirens broke the deadly silence, yet by the time they arrived no one but the crescent moon would know what happened in the shadows of London.