It was raining. Anyone could tell, if it wasn't from the ran drops falling at high speed, soaking anything and everything, it was from the pitter patter on the closest surface to them. People on the streets began to rush for shelter. The bus stop began to get crowded, as passengers and passerbys tried to stay under. The shops and cafes that was about to close got some late night customers. Orders of warm drinks were gave out, nearly as fast as the texts shot by each one seeking shelter. The place began to get busy as if lunch time just swung by. The busses coming got more passengers than usual, everyone trying to ask the driver, ensuring the bus actually goes to where they're headed.

  While everyone was busy seeking a way out of the rain, one man can't help but be pleased with the rain. It will help wash out his wounds. He stepped out, letting the rain seeped through his clothes, hissing when it hit hard on one particular spot.The blood mixed with the rain going down the drain. He leaned against the wall nearby, oe hand reching out to make sure the door didn't slam behind him. He'd rather not be found while he's an easy target. Hearing the door click in place had him heave a sigh in relief, knowing at the very least he got out.

  Now, he only needed to hide.

  His dark hair fell over his face, reminding him that he needed a hair cut. His pale face covered in dirt and bruises that were sure to darken over time. His side was aching, spilling crimson red. His right foot ached, everytime he moved it. He's pretty sure some of his bones were broken, though he'd rather not think much about it. Luckily for him, night has fallen and the rain followed. It was time for him to slip away. Away from the damned building. Away from the bus stop filled with strangers stupid enough to think they could leave things behind the way they did. Away from the cafes and restarants now filled with idiots who thought they were safe.

  He couldn't go home. Not now. It's probably infested by those bastards right that moment. No, he needed to get a hold of someone. Someone he knew and trusted.

  Despite knowing every inch and corner in this part of town, it still took him over twenty minutes to finally reach a phone booth. His fingers shook as he dialled the number he memorized by heart. He hoped it was still in use, he'd rather not have to go around looking for a current one. With each passing dial tone, he reminded himself to breathe, not wanting to give out so soon, not when he came so far. He had to tell himself to keep applying pressure, reminded of the one time he was in a hospital and the doctor kept yelling about pressure at the nurse who had began to fret. It may have been her first time working in the emergncy wing.

  Breathe. Pressure. Breathe. Pressure. Breathe. Pressure. Breathe. Pressure. Breathe. Pres-

  "Hello?"

  "Hyung, I've got it. It's-" was all he could say, before a bullet shot right through his head.

***

Mwahahahahahahahah! Interesting, no? Didn't mean to kill him. It just seemed right at the end c;

Leave me your thoughts, and tell me who you think would make the best mafia boss.