Shop for killer
1005 Words
Kael Maddox – POV
The tires screeched as I brought the car to a hard stop just outside the abandoned textile building. Dust rose in a cloud around us, swallowing the rust-stained structure in a haze of silence.
I killed the engine and leaned forward, eyes scanning the rooftop edges, the shattered windows, the silence.
Too quiet.
I reached for the door, hand on the handle, then turned to Darren.
“You coming with me, or staying here to play corpse?” I asked flatly.
Darren’s eyes darted around the building, still wide with adrenaline, but he swallowed whatever fear he had left and popped the door open without a word. “Hell no. I’m not sitting here like bait.”
Good.
We moved fast across the parking lot, boots slapping cracked asphalt. I kept my body low, scanning for movement—anything off. The building loomed above us, its skeleton groaning in the wind like it still remembered life.
We entered through a rusted side door hanging crooked on its hinges. The air inside was thick with mold and old smoke, metal beams creaking above.
Step by step, we ascended.
The staircase groaned under our weight as we climbed, concrete dust falling with every footfall. I moved ahead, gun drawn, senses sharp. Darren followed close behind, breathing hard but keeping quiet. The fourth flight. Then the fifth.
Every creak of the stairs, every flicker of shadow was a potential threat. I moved slow, deliberate, eyes sweeping corners, fingers firm on the trigger.
Then we reached the rooftop.
The door was ajar.
I paused, motioned to Darren to stay low.
I pushed the door open slowly with my foot.
And there he was.
The sniper.
Dead.
His body slumped awkwardly beside the mounted rifle, head tilted at an unnatural angle, blood pooling from a clean shot through the temple. The CheyTac M200 still rested on its stand, aimed at the street below—precise, professional, untouched.
I stepped closer, crouching beside him. The blood was fresh.
Too fresh.
No signs of a struggle. No panic. Just… execution.
Darren stumbled in behind me, skidding to a stop.
He stared.
“What the—” He blinked, stunned. “Is… is he dead?”
I didn’t answer immediately. I was too busy scanning the rooftop, my gut tightening.
Someone got to him before we did.
The wind howled low across the rooftop. I stood, scanning every edge, every corner. Nothing.
No movement. No shadows. No second shooter.
Just silence.
Darren crouched by the body, wide-eyed, unsettled. “Who… who could’ve done this?”
I didn’t answer right away. My eyes drifted to the sniper rifle—still mounted, untouched. The scope. If the guy was tracking us, maybe… just maybe, he caught something before his death.
I bent low and peered into the scope, adjusting it slightly, fingers quick but steady.
Then—there.
A flash.
I saw a movement.
In the distance, across the street, through a shattered window of another building—someone. A figure. Lean and fast, grabbing a bag and what looked like a dismantled rifle. Then running.
“There,” I muttered.
I didn’t wait for Darren. I was already moving.
Boots thundered against the metal staircase as I charged down flight after flight. My breath stayed calm, measured, but my heart pounded like a war drum.
Whoever that man was—he had answers.
And I was going to get them.
Darren’s voice echoed behind me, panicked. “Kael! Wait! Kael! Where the hell are you going?!”
I didn’t respond. I hit the pavement running, shoving past a rusted gate and darting into the open street. I sprinted toward the building across, my eyes locked on the front entrance.
That’s when the door burst open.
A man in a black mask exploded out with a pistol in hand. Without hesitation, he aimed straight at me.
Bang!
I dove left behind a parked sedan, metal sparking as the bullet glanced off the hood. The shot had missed—barely.
“s**t!” I hissed, rolling and rising, gun drawn.
But the masked man didn’t stick around.
He ran.
Down the alley.
I chased.
My feet pounded against cracked asphalt. I was gaining on him. Just another five feet. Four. I could see the back of his jacket, flapping wildly as he sprinted like hell itself was on his heels.
Then—
SCREECH.
A black SUV skidded into the alley, cutting across the man’s path like it had been waiting for him all along.
The masked man reached for the passenger door.
But before he could open it—
Pop! Pop!
Gunfire erupted from the backseat window.
The masked man jolted as bullets punched through his chest. He dropped, hard, like a puppet with its strings cut. Blood pooled instantly beneath him.
I froze mid-stride and dove behind a trash bin as the shooter aimed in my direction.
Another shot. Missed.
Glass shattered above me.
Then the SUV tires squealed.
The car peeled away, disappearing around the corner before I could fire a single shot.
Silence fell again.
I rose cautiously, gun still in hand, and approached the dead man. His mask had slipped partially off during the fall. Blood leaked from his mouth. His hand was still twitching slightly… but his eyes were already glass.
Dead.
For real, this time.
A moment later, Darren arrived, breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. He bent over, hands on his knees.
“Is… is he dead too?” he asked between pants, eyes wide with horror.
I didn’t look up as I crouched beside the body. I flipped the collar of the man’s jacket and checked for identifiers. Nothing.
“Yeah,” I said coldly. “He’s gone.”
Darren straightened. “Kael… what the hell is going on?” His voice was trembling now. “Who the f**k was that guy? And who killed him?”
I stared at the corpse.
Someone had just silenced a man we were seconds away from capturing.
- Writer
