The rain is pouring down, leaving an earthy scent in the air. The night was peaceful, at least for the most part.
The pubs were packed tonight. You could hear the music from afar.
The moon and lampposts were the only source of light on the streets. The lampposts gave off an orange shade, adding color into the dark rainy night.
You could see a man emerge from the dark. His steps were heavy. The closer he got, you could see more features of what he was wearing. Who is this mysterious man? It was no other than Mr. Vanstile himself. He is a well known man. He hides his identity from the public.
He wears a black coat. He wears a black rimmed hat. A pair of black tuxedo trousers. A pair of black Derby’s. He always has a cigarette or a toothpick in his mouth.
He goes across the dirt road so that he could get into the pub. As he walks over to the stool he sees his target. Clarken Brown is his name. He’s a fat man that almost always wears a white button-up shirt and a black bow tie. He also wears black tuxedo trousers. He was too busy bragging to his mates about his money to notice Mr. Vanstile staring at him. His stare was soul piercing, he wouldn't stop until Clarken left. It was now Mr. Vanstiles' chance to strike.
The rain was pouring down onto Clarken as he walked. He was holding a brown leather dispatch case. He was holding onto it tightly. Mr. Vanstile followed him, he was in the shadows. Making sure to make the least noise possible. Clarken then came to a stop, he looked around with a face of guilt. He didn't see Mr. Vanstile in the dark. Clarken knocked on the door, the knocks echoed throughout the streets. Two guys came to the door and welcomed Clarken inside. The one guy went back in while the other looked around for anyone.
The rain was pouring down onto Clarken as he walked. He was holding a brown leather dispatch case. He was holding onto it tightly. Mr. Vanstile followed him, he was in the shadows. Making sure to make the least noise possible. Clarken then came to a stop, he looked around with a face of guilt. He didn't see Mr. Vanstile in the dark. Clarken knocked on the door, the knocks echoed throughout the streets. Two guys came to the door and welcomed Clarken inside. The one guy went back in while the other looked around for anyone.
Mr. Vanstile was waiting for the man to turn his back.
Once the man did, Mr. Vanstile grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him onto the ground. Before the man could shout for help, Mr. Vanstile punched him in the throat. Mr. Vanstile stood over the man, watching him.The man was holding tight onto his throat, gasping for air. Mr. Vanstile dragged the man across the wet pavement, he took the man to the back of an alley and left him.
Mr. Vanstile tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. Mr. Vanstile heard voices not so far from where he was. He followed the direction of the voices, it led him to a window. Clarken and some man were in the room. The window was slightly open, enough to hear their conversation. The room wasn’t too small nor big. There was a big bookshelf packed full.
The room was dimly lit with candles.
Clarken took out his dispatch case and opened it up. There was £13,000 in the dispatch case, Mr. Vanstile wasn’t shocked, this wasn’t his first time seeing a dispatch case filled with money.
Before he could see what the man was going to give Clarken in return, he got pushed down to the ground. His head made contact with the ground, he felt an intense wave of dizziness. Mr. Vanstile tried to get up, but his loss of balance got the better of him. The man lifted Mr. Vanstile by the throat. Mr. Vanstile’s head was throbbing, but he managed to use enough energy to hit the man in the nose. The man dropped Mr. Vanstile as he went down onto his knees, while covering his nose. Mr. Vanstile managed to get back in line, he then kicked the man in the face, which resulted in the man being knocked out cold.
Just when Mr. Vanstile was going to pick up the man, he heard three loud bangs that echoed throughout the streets. Mr. Vanstile couldn’t find the source of the noise since it was so sudden. He saw Clarken run out the building while holding his crate. Mr. Vanstile was going to chase after Clarken but it was too late, and Clarken descended into the darkness.
Mr. Vanstile walked into the building and darted into the hallway. He saw a door wide open, he walked in with caution, trying to see if anyone was in the same vicinity as him. He spotted the man sitting behind his desk, there was blood dripping down from his mouth. Mr. Vanstile walked up to the man to see three decent sized holes in the man’s chest.
Mr. Vanstile interrogated the man, he asked the man where Clarken lives? The man answered Mr. Vanstile “ He lives at 56 Vareman street.” The man said while gurgling on his own blood. Mr. Vanstile asked the man what he sold Clarken, the man answered “ The Vile.”
Mr. Vanstile knew what he had to do. That was to destroy The Vile.
