12
It was mid afternoon and the sun still had no mercy for anyone. Its strong gaze seemed to descend down into the street repelling anyone from escaping outside.
A black car stood quietly down the street; it was the only car out in the sun. The street was quiet apart from a few sounds emitting from the apartments above. They weren't anything much, either the T.V or radio. The entire block appeared deserted.
A man sat behind the wheel of the car in silence, the windows were down and the radio off. He wore a white shirt with no tie. His black hair stuck to his forehead and his face shone with sweat. He really didn't want to be there, it was too hot. But he had no other choice.
He watched the apartments across from him carefully, he really hated this. He really hated stakeouts. He glared at his wristwatch. It was the fourth time in one minute. The sun was getting to him and his patience was wearing thin. What was bugging him the most was his throat, it was dry and he needed a drink fast. Truman was pissing him off already and that would normally take a few hours; it had been exactly fifteen minutes that he had last seen him. 'Oh I'm going to get us a drink,' he said, 'Be right back.' Yeah right!
Lenny pushed back his wet hair; he gazed at the rear view mirror now and again hoping to see Truman with anything that was in liquid form. If he didn't then he would contemplate killing him.
Simple as that.
The passenger door opened, Lenny glanced at the man sliding in and narrowed his eyes, "What the hell took you so long?"
Truman sat up straight and dumped his fries and drinks on the dashboard, "What do you think took me so long?!" he said, "Those fucking queues are long you know! It's not like I could pull out my gun and demand for service!"
He gained a comfortable position. Truman wore a black shirt under a white tank top, the shirt was long and it covered the bulge, which was his gun, perfectly. His hair was brown and short; he looked no more than in his late twenties. He shoved Lenny's Coke across the dashboard, "Here," he grunted.
Lenny took it and desperately suck it hard, the ice-cold liquid seeped down his throat and cooled him down, "Thanks," he said slurping up the last of his Coke. He sat back and tried to relax.
Truman picked up his fries, "Want one?" Lenny glanced at the shrivelled up fried potato in disgust. They looked soggy and greasy. He couldn't believe Truman had an appetite in this heat.
"I'll pass."
Just behind the steering wheel was a black folder, Lenny picked it up and examined the contents. Truman sipped his drink and peered into the folder, "Whoa! What a beauty!"
"You're telling me!" Lenny exclaimed. Within the folder was a file. It was a file of a young woman, her picture laid on the far left of the page. She had brown hair tied up into a ponytail; her eyes were blue, strange colour for a brunette. She wore a red top with three yellow wavy stripes on her left breast; she had a black short-sleeved top underneath. 'Claire Redfield' was stamped just under her picture in red letters. Nothing else was on the paper other than her name, address, age and names of relations and friends.
"Now why would Umbrella be after this pretty thing? She doesn't seem dangerous," commented Truman.
Lenny coughed nervously, "It's doesn't matter what Umbrella wants her for. That's none of our business, and I think you should watch what you say."
"'Watch what I say'?! Umbrella won't kill me for that!"
Lenny laughed, "They kill for lesser things, now why wouldn't they kill an expendable person like you?"
He opened his mouth ready to object, but he closed it. It was true, Umbrella were a vicious lot. The rumours that went around left anyone, and mostly everyone, shitting in their pants. People tried to deny them, but anyone with enough sanity and sense left knew exactly that the rumours were all accurate. Although it wasn't said, not if your life was depending on your ignorance.
Truman grabbed the folder and snatched it up; his greasy figures smudged the paper. Lenny rolled his eyes to the heavens.
"Hey would you look at this," he gasped, "They've put her under 'extremely dangerous'! Can you believe that?! I mean look at her! She's only nineteen!"
"Would you stop it already!" Lenny said pulling the folder out of Truman's hands, "Haven't you heard the phrase 'looks can be deceiving'?"
"Fine, I'll stop talking about her," he swiped his oily hands across his thighs. He sat still for exactly one minute, but the urge was too great to stay quiet. He was a toddler trapped in a man's body, "Have you ever wondered why Umbrella is called Umbrella? A strange name for a corporation. Why not Parasol? It's exactly like an umbrella just bigger."
Lenny threw the file back onto the dashboard in a fit of rage; an ache was creeping into his head. There weren't any aspirins and he would have to deal with Truman until the girl came out. But that could be for hours. The thought of blowing Truman's head off was looking rather interesting. Umbrella wouldn't punish him for that. They would congratulate him instead. But they would kill Lenny and Truman if the task weren't done. He turned and glared, "Please just shut up! We've got work to do!"
A young woman came out of the building across the road, "Oh look here she is, and doesn't she look better in reality?"
Lenny ignored his last remark; he had to be stuck with the stupid ones. He watched the girl closely; she turned the corner heading towards the underground parking lot. He pulled his gun out of the glove compartment and smiled, "She'll be out soon and then we'll nab her."
It was mid afternoon and the sun still had no mercy for anyone. Its strong gaze seemed to descend down into the street repelling anyone from escaping outside.
A black car stood quietly down the street; it was the only car out in the sun. The street was quiet apart from a few sounds emitting from the apartments above. They weren't anything much, either the T.V or radio. The entire block appeared deserted.
A man sat behind the wheel of the car in silence, the windows were down and the radio off. He wore a white shirt with no tie. His black hair stuck to his forehead and his face shone with sweat. He really didn't want to be there, it was too hot. But he had no other choice.
He watched the apartments across from him carefully, he really hated this. He really hated stakeouts. He glared at his wristwatch. It was the fourth time in one minute. The sun was getting to him and his patience was wearing thin. What was bugging him the most was his throat, it was dry and he needed a drink fast. Truman was pissing him off already and that would normally take a few hours; it had been exactly fifteen minutes that he had last seen him. 'Oh I'm going to get us a drink,' he said, 'Be right back.' Yeah right!
Lenny pushed back his wet hair; he gazed at the rear view mirror now and again hoping to see Truman with anything that was in liquid form. If he didn't then he would contemplate killing him.
Simple as that.
The passenger door opened, Lenny glanced at the man sliding in and narrowed his eyes, "What the hell took you so long?"
Truman sat up straight and dumped his fries and drinks on the dashboard, "What do you think took me so long?!" he said, "Those fucking queues are long you know! It's not like I could pull out my gun and demand for service!"
He gained a comfortable position. Truman wore a black shirt under a white tank top, the shirt was long and it covered the bulge, which was his gun, perfectly. His hair was brown and short; he looked no more than in his late twenties. He shoved Lenny's Coke across the dashboard, "Here," he grunted.
Lenny took it and desperately suck it hard, the ice-cold liquid seeped down his throat and cooled him down, "Thanks," he said slurping up the last of his Coke. He sat back and tried to relax.
Truman picked up his fries, "Want one?" Lenny glanced at the shrivelled up fried potato in disgust. They looked soggy and greasy. He couldn't believe Truman had an appetite in this heat.
"I'll pass."
Just behind the steering wheel was a black folder, Lenny picked it up and examined the contents. Truman sipped his drink and peered into the folder, "Whoa! What a beauty!"
"You're telling me!" Lenny exclaimed. Within the folder was a file. It was a file of a young woman, her picture laid on the far left of the page. She had brown hair tied up into a ponytail; her eyes were blue, strange colour for a brunette. She wore a red top with three yellow wavy stripes on her left breast; she had a black short-sleeved top underneath. 'Claire Redfield' was stamped just under her picture in red letters. Nothing else was on the paper other than her name, address, age and names of relations and friends.
"Now why would Umbrella be after this pretty thing? She doesn't seem dangerous," commented Truman.
Lenny coughed nervously, "It's doesn't matter what Umbrella wants her for. That's none of our business, and I think you should watch what you say."
"'Watch what I say'?! Umbrella won't kill me for that!"
Lenny laughed, "They kill for lesser things, now why wouldn't they kill an expendable person like you?"
He opened his mouth ready to object, but he closed it. It was true, Umbrella were a vicious lot. The rumours that went around left anyone, and mostly everyone, shitting in their pants. People tried to deny them, but anyone with enough sanity and sense left knew exactly that the rumours were all accurate. Although it wasn't said, not if your life was depending on your ignorance.
Truman grabbed the folder and snatched it up; his greasy figures smudged the paper. Lenny rolled his eyes to the heavens.
"Hey would you look at this," he gasped, "They've put her under 'extremely dangerous'! Can you believe that?! I mean look at her! She's only nineteen!"
"Would you stop it already!" Lenny said pulling the folder out of Truman's hands, "Haven't you heard the phrase 'looks can be deceiving'?"
"Fine, I'll stop talking about her," he swiped his oily hands across his thighs. He sat still for exactly one minute, but the urge was too great to stay quiet. He was a toddler trapped in a man's body, "Have you ever wondered why Umbrella is called Umbrella? A strange name for a corporation. Why not Parasol? It's exactly like an umbrella just bigger."
Lenny threw the file back onto the dashboard in a fit of rage; an ache was creeping into his head. There weren't any aspirins and he would have to deal with Truman until the girl came out. But that could be for hours. The thought of blowing Truman's head off was looking rather interesting. Umbrella wouldn't punish him for that. They would congratulate him instead. But they would kill Lenny and Truman if the task weren't done. He turned and glared, "Please just shut up! We've got work to do!"
A young woman came out of the building across the road, "Oh look here she is, and doesn't she look better in reality?"
Lenny ignored his last remark; he had to be stuck with the stupid ones. He watched the girl closely; she turned the corner heading towards the underground parking lot. He pulled his gun out of the glove compartment and smiled, "She'll be out soon and then we'll nab her."