Scribbles and Drabbles

Criminal Obsession 1

Originally Written: 2012, redo 2019

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Footsteps echoed down the dark alley as a man spirited down it, or attempted to at least, panting heavily from the effort. Despite the clear signs, he was trying to escape something, he wasn't able to move fast, his left leg dragging behind him slightly as he tried to hop further into the alley, using the wall as a support. He had the look of a man who was running for his life.

He was dressed in a suit, an expensive suit which should have looked smart and neat but somehow it now looked untidy and was the cuffs were ripped slightly. Devon's final day as a police officer had not gone well. That day had been the last time he had worn his uniform. Devon had put in his notice earlier that week. He was no longer medically fit to continue in his role as an officer. The damage to his leg and arm had been too great and as he had failed to make it into a position where his physical condition didn't matter. Even if he had, the other side effect of his injuries made it impossible for him to continue to make for the force.

The day had been full goodbyes, the senior staff had put on a party for him, else why he was wearing a suit. The party had been grim with pitying looks and bad coffee. The older generation knowing his pain and the younger praying what had happened to him would never happen to them. Too damaged to be of use in the field.

Sadly Devon couldn't even blame one man or organisation for his fate. The one who had set the bomb had warned him about it and more scarily saved his life. Orville Paul, the local crime boss. A man who controlled the city and was also obsessed with Devon.

On his way home Devon had quite literally stumbled into a bar fight. Trapped in the mayhem, a strong arm had yanked him out of the brawl. Orville grinning at him with a distant look of desire in his eyes. "I'm going to have you tonight," Orville promised darkly. "Run. I'll give to the count of ten."

Devon had obliged. A mistake, he knew. He should have just walked away calmly instead and refused to play Orville's games. Running from a predator would make them chase you and Devon had practically given Orville permission to try and get his pants down.

Still, Devon couldn't let things end so easily. While Devon didn't blame the mad for his leg, he was still the cause of it. It's not like Devon didn't understand Orville's reasons for the bomb, which scarily told him that he had been in the man's head far too long. Not to mention a very dangerous man who likes to play games. Hence why all Devon could hear were slow, unhurried footsteps following him.

"Devon," a voice called tauntingly. "Come on. I just want to talk," the voice tried to coax, the footsteps still calm, unlike Devon's own.

"Talk is never just talking with you!" Devon yelled back without looking. He was not afraid of the mob boss despite all his experiences telling him otherwise. Devon knew running excited the man. Like any predator, when his prey ran, it got the criminal's blood pumping and he enjoyed the chase. Devon tripped on something almost falling to the ground but catching himself on the wall just in time. The rough bricks scraping against his skin as he panted, trying to get his breath back to push on further.

Orville laughed, the sound echoing around the alley almost ominously as Devon tried to recover from his fall and running. "I'd stop running if I were you. You are about to run into a dead-end," commented Orville, lightly in an almost nonchalant tone.

Devon looked up slowly to find himself looking at a dead end. The dim lighting from the windows above the alley lighting enough to show there was no way to escape. The dead-end was part of the building. He turned to watch as Orville walked towards him looking a bit like a wolf about to catch his prey. Or possibly a lazy cat would be a better description with the lazy grin on his face as he swirled Devon's cane between his fingers. Devon had dropped it during the bar brawl.