Tuesday, May 19, 2009

The Passenger, part 1

The window splintered inward with the force of the blast, decapitating the driver with large shards of glass. Even before the remains of the windshield had passed backwards from the driver’s compartment into the rest of the limo, the passenger in the back had already opened the door, and had hit the pavement running.

As the passenger ran towards the cover of a near-by Starbucks, his assailants adjusted for his sudden burst of movement, and began tracking a hail of destructive fire towards him. Rooster-tails began to kick up all around him, the impacts of bullets fired in a hurried attempt to mark the target.

Not even bothering to use the door to the building, the passenger hurled himself through the window, arms covering his head. The plate glass shattered with the force of his impact, giving way and allowing the passenger to tumble into the coffee shop and come to a rest at the foot of a table, where its inhabitants promptly jumped up, spilling their lattes onto the surface, causing the liquid to spill over onto the passenger, covering him with piping hot beverages.

The passenger rolled away from the table, back towards the shattered window, where he came to a low sitting position with his back towards the wall. Reaching into his latte covered jacket, he removed a black and olive hand gun and racked the slide. The gunfire coming from the street outside had stopped, so the man took a deep breath, and waited.

On the busy intersection, chaos reigned. Cars that had been caught in the initial attack were flipped onto their sides, windows blown out. The occupants still conscious inside their cars were screaming for help, but no one who had witnessed the ferocity of the strike were rushing out to assist. Far in the distance, sirens began to wail, announcing the imminent arrival of emergency services.

At the epicenter of the blast stood a smoking husk of a car, which trained observers would recognized as the cause of the explosion. When the car had detonated, it had been directly in front of the target limo, and had been designed to either immobilize or destroy the luxury vehicle.

A large trail of pock-marks stretched from the wrecked limo to the Starbucks, tracing the passenger’s flight into the shop.
Emerging from vantage points all around the blast radius, various figures clad in black paramilitary uniforms advanced cautiously towards the coffee house, readying their assault rifles. A group of five assailants posted up beside the door, opposite of where their target was currently taking refuge.

With a silent hand signal from his commander, the lead gunman lifted his rifle to shoulder height, and pressed the door open.

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