The Alleyways of London

Doser Bulard

A small hazy trail wafted high above, forming a miniature cloud as the protruding lip of the apartment stopped Doser's cigarette smoke from escaping the alleyway. The man's eyes are focused downward, squinting, slightly, in the dim light. In gloved hands were a series of photographs.

A woman lays prostrate on the floor of one of the Black Chess's "Interrogation" sheds. A small pool of blood lies beneath her, spread out and smeared, somewhat, as she had apparently been forced to lay in it for some time. Her body was a collection of small puncture wounds, lacerations, burn marks, and bruises, inflicted with careful precision for the highest possible level of pain before death.

He already knew, however, that these pictures, taken from several angles, and at different stages of the process, were of a woman who had slipped from the Black Chess's hands. The Knight responsible had yet to be dealt with. A slight grin crept across Doser's face. When it came to members of White Chess, failure was not an option. Still, that particular Black Knight was the best in the business; second only to Doser, himself, of course. This butcher.. this Zale Mitakos.. had better have a damn good reason for his failure.

Doser reaches up with his free hand, taking one final drag from his cigarette before plucking the spent butt from between his lips, flicking it into a nearby puddle of water as he turns and begins heading down the alleyway, towards where he had left he vehicle parked. The meter would be running out, soon, as would the timer on the explosives he had placed behind the chop shop down the alleyway. You didn't run an illegal business without The Black Chess's sanction..

In the distance, there was a sound of thunder.. a flash of lightning.

Dimitri leaned against the wall of an alleyway, next to a small antiques store and a secondhand bookstore, as he lit a cigarrette. He watched the people in the square, with feigned intrest. He sighed slightly, running a hand through his hair, before laughing quietly to himself. Heh, my father would kill me if he found out what I'm doing. Ah well, he can get over it. I don't particularly care what he thinks. Never did. He pushes himself off of the wall, and straightens his black cotton jacket, before joining the throngs of tourists and residents. His eyes seemed cold and distant. As he walked down the street the crowds moved away from him, seeming to notice that something wasn't quite right with him, and they shouldn't be seen associating with him.

He walked down the street quietly, blowing out smoke as he turned the corner into an alleyway. A shortcut to where he wanted to go. His boots hit the ground lightly, his footsteps echoing off the walls of the alley quietly as he continued to walk down the alleyway. He stretched quietly, pulling out an iPod, a stolen iPod to be exact. He plugged his headphones in and started to bob his head along to the music, still fully aware of everything that was going on around him.

Chom wandered into the alley, tie hanging sloppily undone with his suit and shirt partially unbuttoned. He stumbled, half pissed on alcohol and affection from another lady. How many had it been this week? Five? Eight? Who cares! A drunk giggle escaped his lips. He settled into the alley, resting into the wall admiring the smell that washed all over him in an intoxicated high. In his hand was the remnants of a rose he had brought the lady, the petals itself bruised and torn in his stagger.

“Oi, what a lady that one was. I might just have to pay her a visit again sometime this week..”

At the sound of the thunder and lightning, it broke through his happy delirium and brought a frown to his face, creasing the smooth perfection along his face. In a fuss, he crawled back up to his feet, almost forgetting to grab his tea set that was packed carefully in the suitcase he brought with him everywhere. They were protected by soft padding inside so as not to so much as even wiggle when he wandered. When he settled his nerves, he stumbled forth towards the thunder and lightning, muttering to himself that he should get under cover less he get soaked and ruin his good suit.

Why’s the weather gotta ruin a nice evening like this!? Oh come on, why can’t a man just have a nice drink and a lay without worrying about the damn weather? Chom kicked at a stone in childish resent, continuing to wander through the alleyway in his drunkard’s swagger.

Due to his careless walk, he fell into a puddle left from a previous storm. Instead of instantly getting up, he laid still, looking across the glint brought from the moon. His fingers curled into the palm, cradling the water as if it was sand. He sighed, and picked himself up, grumbling to himself that he hated rain.

The Game Begins....Movement of the Syndicate...



Echoing of the dripping water, the rolling fog filled with tidbits of misting rain gave cover to the two figures meeting in the center of the alleyway. Each one eyeing each other with caution and suspicion; they were ordered here by their respected organization to complete a important exchange. One carrying a briefcase of bearer bonds, and the other one carrying several cryptic discs.

“Did you bring the bonds?” the taller figure’s voice low but strong. He has done this many times for the black chess, but here lately it has been almost a daily thing. Whatever they have gotten themselves into has generated a lot of most welcomed work.

“Yes, two point five mill.” the female’s voice was soft, almost secretarial. “Did you bring the discs?” she retaliated quickly. Her gaze locked upon his tall frame analyzing every moment he made. She never did trust a black chess agent and she wasn’t going to start anytime soon. She wondered why the Syndicate would even deal with these common thugs.

“Would I be here if I didn’t.” he loathed being questioned by this office, white-collared bimbo. He raised up the case and pressed the release switch. The lid opened reveling several non-labeled discs. “Here they are.” his tone showing that he wish he was somewhere else instead of here in this stinking alley getting wet dealing with a lower level agent of the Syndicate.

“Well, then I suggest we proceed with the exchange.” She replied as she placed the case down next to his feet. Her gaze keeping close tabs of the location of her hands and watching his mouth just incase he was giving a signal to anyone else that maybe lurking in the heavy fog. She was relieved when he handed over the discs and picked up the case and turned away from her. “OH! By the way.” She took a step toward him, “The Syndicate wants a meeting with your king as soon as possible. You can reach me with the cell phone number that you have. I trust you will take this request up your chain of command, for this is a one time offer.” She didn’t wait for him to respond as she raised her hand up giving a signal. Within no time a support van pulled up and two guys stepped out opening the cargo door for her.

“Yeah, I will pass it on.” he yelled to her as she proceeded to get into the van. His eyes watched it as it sped off down the alley. ‘Well. How interesting.” He pondered over the request, and wondered how she know he worked for the black chess. “Something is about to happen and I just hope that I’m included.” Picking up his cell phone he dialed Dimitri.