The night was dark, murky, lonely and rainy. The streets were paved with filthy, soggy garbage, in small rivers of rainwater; and poodles of water imbued the deep potholes of various sizes, dominating the road. The rain flung itself on the ground, getting heavier and excessively. I stood at the sidewalk of the road wet, and soaked in water. I did not have a raincoat or an umbrella. My raggedy wet clothes plastered against my skin. I felt raveled up inside and cold as I shivered inside, hoping a bus would come. It seemed unlikely that any would be coming at the moment. I only waited in hope. If I wanted to seem like a normal everyday citizen, taking the bus was the first step, I thought. Rain slithered its way along the dirty, grubby building walls constituting somewhat excellent graffiti. The rainwater on the sidewalk raised a little, wavering repeatedly towards and away my bare feet and ankles as it beat on the ground. Some of the streetlights were cracked, some broken, resulting in a dim light.
As I looked at the corner of the street in a dark but familiar alley, for a moment I thought I saw a human figure flashing in the darkness. I shifted my hand in my shabby jeans pocket and felted my weapon. I gave up the prospect of a bus advancing towards me. I strolled in the opposite direction of the dark but familiar alley, glancing back at it every second. My heart pumped rapidly in caution but fear in me was deficient. Then suddenly I heard a loud bang of what I knew was a gunshot, in the distance. I froze and listened contently, so I could decide what my next move would be; then I heard another gunshot, this time it was thunderous. In speedily motion I leapt to the ground, in a great splash, and then I gripped my weapon, blinking my eyes rapidly for the road's dirty water had leapt into them. I listened closely, because from the sound of the last gunshot I knew the perpetrator was advancing closer to me, their supposed prey. I was on the verge of standing, with my gun pointed out, when another one and it was deafening, the bullet propelled into the bus stop sign beside me and sent it smashed to the ground. These perpetrator or perpetrators, I continued thinking, were already enemy to me and they had attempted to propel me down by seizing my life. At least that is what I thought.
"Spence!" I heard a familiar voice calling my name in the darkness.
I glanced up in the voice's direction and a familiar wet face emerged from the...