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A Black Day, Part 3


Absolution Black

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A Black Day Part 3

The old shed groaned under Black’s weight as he pulled himself onto the rickety structure. He could see the open hall window that would give him access to the building but getting there would be tricky, even for a resourceful man like himself. He weighed up his chances of hauling himself onto the roof that sloped just under the window. It would take all his strength to lift himself up, and the slates didn’t look like they offered a safe handhold. But it was the only way.

He reached up, and then jumped the last few inches to grab the edge of the roof. With a huge effort he pulled himself up onto the slippy roof, hugging flat against the wall as he caught his breath. With a wry smile, he joked to himself that he was already getting too old for this lifestyle, yet he was only in his thirties. Satisfied he had recovered fully he slipped a knife from his inside pocket and crept to peer over the sill of the window. Sure enough, A thug stood outside his open doorway, looking nonchalantly down over the bannister. He could see his door was now ripped from its hinges and he cursed. Fingering the blade and testing the weight he slowly raised himself up. With a quick thrust of his wrist, the knife flew through the open window and hit the thug in the throat, embedding itself deeply.

As the thug struggled, clutching at his neck, the blood poured from the split jugular. Black was already moving, landing softly on the hall floor and hugging the wall. He heard voices from inside the room. Miraculously the occupants hadn’t heard the struggles of the man outside. Black smiled at his good fortune, watching as the man silently slipped down the wall and collapsed dead in a heap on the floor. Un-holstering his pistols he side-stepped along the hallway until he reached the wrecked doorway. Breathing deeply, allowing his mind and body to get in the zone, Black raised the guns and on the count of three, spun around into the doorway to shoot his targets. There were five of them.

Loosing two shots from his revolvers whilst swearing and cursing street urchins the world over, Black flung himself across the doorway, deftly avoiding the corpse of the first thug. He knew he had connected with the two shots, he had heard the cries and besides he hardly ever missed. He just hoped they were fatal hits. Split seconds after he had moved, a fusillade of bullets screamed from the open doorway, hitting the wall opposite, sending plaster sprinkling down to the entrance hall. Then holes appeared in the wall next to him as the thugs began to pepper the corridor from within his room, attempting to get lucky and catch Black where he stood. He moved quickly, diving to the far end of the corridor, as dust and parts of wall flew around him.

Realising he only had seconds before the thugs became brave enough to venture out of the room to confirm their kill, Black made a split second decision. He jumped up, placed one hand on the barrier and leapt over the railing, landing heavily on the staircase below. The noise obviously alerted the gunmen, as a shot pinged from the painting above his head. Moving into the room off the entrance hall, an old unused room cluttered with junk, Black found what cover he could and waited. He heard footsteps on the corridor above him: he counted three men. He smiled, maybe he had been successful with his shots. The heavy treads began the cautious descent down the staircase. Black wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot until they were almost right inside the room with him.

He watched as the first of the thugs brandishing a wicked shotgun slunk into view through the doorway. Urging him closer, Black raised his revolver to eye-level and aimed for the head. Closer, he thought, just a little bit closer. He could see the other two thugs coming into view behind the first, revolvers at the ready. This was going to be close, thought Black. Too close. He was beginning to wish he had just turned away and gone somewhere else instead of being so hot headed. But he knew this was his best chance so far of actually removing the Dometelli threat once and for all with minimum fuss. He lifted his other revolver, knowing that any shot with that gun was going to be a miracle if it hit something, in the time he had.

As the large bulk of the thug filled the doorway, Black opened fire. The bullet smashed into the skull of the man, blowing the top of his head clean off. As the body fell, Black shot the second revolver, grazing the arm of a second thug as he raised his own gun to retaliate. That lucky shot bought him a couple of precious seconds and he leapt from his hiding place, diving behind an old oak table that had handily been stored on its side. He heard the soft thud as the first body hit the floor, and the cries of the second man as he fought to stop the bleeding from his damaged arm. As he readied his guns again, a hail of bullets sprayed the room in the place where he had just been sitting. He waited until he heard the thug frantically reloading the pistol and jumped from behind the table. Running across the room he fired one of his revolvers, the bullet passing through the throat of the reloading thug.

As he stepped into the corridor he turned to see the wounded man lying on the stairs, his face contorted in pain. The man looked up into the muzzle of Black’s pistol.

“Please” he begged, “Please don’t…….”

Black pulled the trigger, shielding his face as he did so. A spray of blood coated his sleeve as the man’s head simply disappeared.

Lowering his guns, Black breathed out deeply. Now to deal with the Dometellis sitting in the coaches outside. It would be broad daylight with plenty of witnesses but it couldn’t be helped. He turned to unlatch the door, opening it to the street outside. Then he heard the click of a gun being readied. He cursed to himself, chastising himself for being hot headed again and not checking he actually had killed the two goons upstairs. He turned slowly to see the leering face of the wounded thug, the gun levelled with Black’s head. He knew he wouldn’t have time to raise his guns to shoot before the other man pulled his trigger. He closed his eyes, ready for the final shot as he heard the man laugh. There was a loud bang of gunfire. Black opened his eyes, watching the man opposite him slumping to the staircase.

He turned slowly, wondering what further trouble he could possibly get into. Standing in the doorway, lowering a smoking pistol was the lean figure of a Guild captain. The Officer reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it in his mouth.

“Afternoon Absolution” He looked over Black’s shoulder, “ Been busy, have we?”

“Captain Knoffler”, Black growled, “I guess I should say thanks”.

End of Part 3

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