Wharehouse

This is a revised edition.  The original can be found here.

It was raining again. It was always raining these days it seemed. To make matters worse, there was a fierce cold wind cutting me to the bone. Why did he always have to meet with us on nights like this? And why in the Warehouse District? Doesn't he know that's where they expect you to have these kind of meetings? He's so damn cliche.

I really shouldn't complain though. He's been feeding us excellent intel ever since he turn on his Master. Not that we've actually been able to do much good with it. How is this Wizard, or whatever his name is, always able to stay one step ahead of us. I mean don't we have inside information? Or are we...

"Joe!" That was Al. Damn, I must have been lost in my thoughts again.

"Yeah, uh, what?"

"Where you planning on walking all night? We're here."

Damn. I was lost in there again. So much so that I almost walked right past the meeting place. It was much like all the others. Our informant had a hard on for run down buildings. Abandoned factories. Empty warehouses. There was something different tonight though. Something I just couldn't quite put my finger on.

Walking inside I can see at least half a dozen spots where an ambush could be waiting. I mention this and the odd feeling I have to Al. He says it's just my paranoia, but that he'll stay alert anyway. That's the mark of a good partner. If I'm uneasy about something I know Al's got my back.

"Did you bring the stuff?" How the Hell does he do that? This guy just appeared out of nowhere. I could have sworn the spot he's now standing in was empty no more than a second ago.

"Yeah we got 'em," replies Al. "What'd you bring us?"

"Toss the goods over here and I'll show you." Wait, what. He never asked for his stuff without showing us he had something in return. Something's definitely wrong here. I say as much to Al.

"I think you're right. We should..." Why did he stop talking mid-sentence. I turn my head toward my partner and I can see why. He no longer has a head. Panic starts creeping in. Not good.

"You were trying to bring down the Boss." That voice. "We can't have that." Where have I heard that voice? "We already took care of the traitor." No it can't be. "Now it's time to take out the rest of the trash." Stygan.

They got to our informant. They killed my partner. It's time for me to get the Hell out of here. But I'm too slow. As I turn around to make my escape I find out first hand just how my partner died. The indescribable pain in my chest draws my attention down to where a sword is sticking out. Damn she's fast. So this is how I'm going to die. In a rundown old warehouse. Killed by a bitch with a fucking sword.