MZ's Short Stories

Story 1: The Gunman
The man ran through the alleyway, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. A large male, about five feet four inches tall, this man was a soldier. His name wasn't publicly known, though it is told here; His name was Marcus Glenn. Jet black hair with streaks of gray in a sharp crew cut was atop his head; his arms were adorned with tattoos, swirling emblems of his flesh. Glenn was a very well-built man, with toned muscles and great physique. But now, he was chasing someone.

A slightly shorter man, with graying hair, crouched down behind a garbage can in the streets of London. Timidly looking out from behind his reeking haven, he watched. Waiting for his predator to come, to eliminate him. He swore, and pushed these thoughts out of his head. There was no way; the man is not some kind of superbeing, is he? The man nearly chuckled at the thought, and stifled the sound when he heard a footstep in the alley. Was he here? Breathing hard, he stood up and tore for the end of the alleyway, out into the street.

Glenn saw movement. His sharp eyes moved to the left, where he saw a coat-tail disappear quickly around the corner. Turning around, he sprinted for the corner, and turned very quickly to see a small, scared-looking man with an automatic pistol in his hands. The man's arms trembled, as if he was not ready to shoot Glenn, as if he had never done this before. His face was hidden; Glenn didn't recognize him, anyways. It mattered not. This man was a problem, and problems must be taken care of in the swiftest of ways. Glenn's hand moved to his belt, where his peacemaker was snugly tucked; A .50 caliber, and a beauty at that. Drawing it out, he held it by his side. Almost like an old western, he though. Glenn chuckled, and the other man jumped nearly a foot in the air.
"W..what are you laughing about!" he shrieked. The pistol was nearly jiggling. "Don't y-you move!"
Glenn's eyes narrowed; he went into full predator mode. Moving slowly, he circled around his opponent until he was very close to him. Moving quickly, he jerked to the side. To his satisfaction, the bullet shot missed by a whole foot. This man was definitely not an experienced shooter. Faking to the left, Glenn sprinted to the right and fired two rounds.

The smaller man watched in horror as, from the two holes in his chest, blood ballooned and spread over his chest. He gazed up at the man, and fell to the ground.

Glenn walked over to the man, and took off his hat. Unveiling the man, he stared down. In uncertainty, in doubtfulness, and finally in horror...The man was his brother.

Ironic, isn't it?
Just something I wrote in my spare time.

Wait a second - mods, move this. Sorry, didn't see the subforums.