Back Alleys

A shout echoed in the dark dank alleys of New York City. It was midnight, the time when the worst of the city came to haunt the streets and go about their mysterious businesses until daybreak. It had been raining for an hour now, and had only just now decreased from a pouring storm to a slow drizzle. The streets glistened with the drool that dripped from the corner of the weary atmosphere’s mouth and spattered to the pavement like a suicide from the top of the Empire State Building.

The owner of the voice was a villainous rat that had run himself into a trap while evading a claw-bearing feline, hungry for his blood. He was cornered against the old brick walls of two buildings that sat resting in the soil next to each other, an alley. There was no place left to run. The left turn he had made had been a fatal mistake. All the sleazy rodent could do to save himself was turn to face the cat.

The rat went by the name of Billy Sage. He was a leech, a parasite that fed off the misery of others; a thief, a vandal, and a shadow of women who lived alone and had no protection. He was a punk to say the least of it, barely eighteen years of age and already leaving a thick folder of offenses in his trail. He dressed only in black except for the greasy mat of spiky green hair upon his head and the bloodshot dull gray of his eyes. The police had been after him for months, during which he had robbed several convenience stores, raped a number of young women, and polluted buildings with derogatory language and satanic threats.

Sage backed up slowly against trashcans teeming with vermin and decay and shook his scarred face in disbelief at the lone, stiff figure standing ten feet away from him. The streetlights cast a glare over its form, making it appear eerily black and unrecognizable, but Sage knew who it was. It was the one hunter who had been able to track him down without stumbling once, the hunter who had followed Sage the entire six months he had been running from justice, the hunter that had finally cornered him and left him with no place to run.

“Fuck!” Sage growled as he wiped the sweat from his forehead and struggled to catch his breath. He straightened himself out and stood as stiff as his pursuer, eyes narrowed and fists clenched.

The figure didn’t budge an inch. His weapon was cocked and aimed straight at Sage’s head. There was a short silence, then a low, monotonous voice slowly came up from his throat. “Don’t move.”

Sage hesitated a moment before slowly putting his hands behind his head. He cautiously began to move forward towards the hunter, showing he had no weapons and pulling a look of defeat.

“All right, you win. I’ll come quietly.”

He was almost five feet away from his pursuer, who was now clearly visible to him. Yes, it had been whom he had expected. He cracked a grin as he waited for him to come in for the arrest.

The hunter was a police sergeant. He was a master in his work, having taken in every criminal or suspect he had ever scented without missing a beat. He was keen and agile, possessing a lightning quick reaction time that Sage was about to misjudge.

Sage tensed, as for a brief but convenient moment, the sergeant lowered his gun to move in and cuff the teenager. Sage was ready for him, but he didn‘t realize that his enemy was also ready for him.

With a sudden movement, Sage struck the weapon from the sergeant’s hands and grabbed it in midair, preparing to throw a bullet at his head, but his clever plan backfired in a single second. The hunter seized both of the teen’s wrists and twisted them to the point of snapping, causing him to drop the stolen gun. Sage yelped in pain and surprise, but before he could defend himself against the counterattack, he was struck with a mighty force that slammed him like a thunderous freight train and sent him flying into the rough brick wall of the alley. Sage sunk to the ground. His broken nose and torn mouth were streaming dark red blood that stained his youthful face. It had been the knuckles of the hunter that had caused so much damage, and it was the hands attached to those knuckles that dragged the subdued to his awaiting residence at the prison. Before the night was out, the rat had fallen to the cat.