It was cold. Real cold. The sort of cold that chills the bones and darkens the soul. Daniel pulled the collar of his oversized coat up around his neck and darted out into the forbidding street.
He was scared. But that came with the territory. Life on the streets was hard and if you stopped to long to think you'd wind up dead, or worse.
He'd heard stories about this guy. This guy. The new boss. The new muscle. He'd taken over all of Southside before your could say "He's taken over all of Southside". This new guys thirst for power knew no bounds. He'd even started flogging bootleg hooch on the side just to show that he could.
Daniel had met plenty of tough guys in his time. Hell he'd run with more then a few. But this guys rep was bad. Real bad. The whole city was scared and this damn cold weather didn't lighten up the mood.
A warehouse. An abandoned warehouse.
Daniel went in the back way like he'd been told and fingered the safety on Vera, his .44 revolver. No one had told him the life of a cop would be quite like this.
Two thugs. They go down quickly. But not quietly. He knows they've heard him. Things start to go ugly, quickly. There's blood on the walls and some of it's his.
Finally he comes face to face with his nemesis. Tired, sore. Daniel knows the wound's not fatal. The shot only grazed his arm. But damn it stings, the cold air whips at the wound and penetrates deep into his heart. But it's not just the air. It's his nemesis. His target.
The Nightingale is made of cardboard...