As soon as Obi saw the thug pull out the gun, he grabbed the Boss by the sleeve, intending to pull him to a safe place, if possible, as the other criminals began scattering for cover.
It was most necessary to keep pretending that he was one of them, right up until the very end, because if somehow someone knew that he was more affiliated with the cops than the thugs, he would be quickly on his way to the morgue.
Cobra screamed something Obi couldn’t quite make out, and slapped the wrist of the hoodlum holding the gun, intending to knock the weapon out of the man’s hand. A worse thing happened: the gun went off.
Instantly, the train station turned into a massive charade of chaos. People were screaming at the top of their lungs, and running this way and that, apparently heedless of their safety, while trying to run away from perceived danger.
Obi noted that if a train would enter the station at this time, at least forty people would die or be injured, seeing the amount of people that took to running on the rails, just to escape.
There were other more important matters to attend to, though.
The Boss pulled himself free from Obi’s grip, yelling above the din, “I must get my money first!” Obi shook his head as he took cover behind a pillar. And here he had thought the Boss was smart. Why stake arrest, or even death on top of money you could likely collect another day?
Another shot rang out, but Obi didn’t know who had fired it. He stayed crouched behind the pillar, deciding to wait things out. Just then, he saw Goat, across from where he was hiding. Goat spotted him and nodded to him, drawing a small gun from his pocket.
This was getting very stupid. Obi wanted to yell, “do you want to get shot?” but he gestured wildly at Goat to put the gun away. Just then, he saw a policeman tackle Goat from behind, just as he heard behind him, “if you move, I shoot!” Well, he was safe now, he guessed, unless the policeman decided to flinch and shoot him.
Twenty minutes later, Obi was seated cuffed and quiet in the back of a police car with tinted windows. The door opened, and his direct superior got in.
“Good work,” he said, uncuffing the undercover cop, who shrugged.
“I really did nothing. Just stood there and looked pretty.”
“But still,” replied his superior officer, “the intel you provided was absolutely pivotal to us crushing two gangs at the same time.”
“You got the Boss?” Obi asked.
“Cobra shot him,” replied the other man, pulling out a cigarette. “And we got Cobra.”
“You should give up on the smokes,” Obi said, eyeing the cigarette with distaste as his fellow officer lit it.
“For someone who seems okay with throwing his life away, you’re one to talk. Let’s get out of here.”
The End...
Thanks for coming!
That little boy,