Chasing the night

It was a cold midnight in late December. A new blanket of snow covered everything, and a crisp breeze added to the below-freezing temperature. A man crouched behind a wall, fully covered by the black of the night. Another man carried a duffle bag slung across his shoulder. Most people couldn’t see it, but he was panicking, hurrying to his destination; sweat wet his brow and dripped down his face despite the cold winter air. 

The man behind the wall grabbed a bag and silently followed his target. The only sounds were the crickets chirping and the occasional crunch of the snow. For him, even the slightest misstep could alert the target. He knew this was his final chance, and tonight he would finally get him. He remembered what his boss had said: “Take him down and grab the money, or else we're kicking you out forever. Or worse.”

The target stopped to catch his breath. He had been followed for a while now. He turned around and saw the city lights far behind him. Soon, he would be at a safe location to complete the job. He looked forward. All he could see were the towering trees of the cold, quiet forest. Beyond was a black void of emptiness.

He continued to walk, trying to be as quiet as possible through the crunching snow; the man knew this was the right moment. He pulled out a long sniper rifle to take the target out in a single blow. He stepped forward, and a branch broke under his foot. His face went pale, and his expression was blank. That was a mistake.

The target quickly turned around, realized he was being followed, and ran. The bag slowed his run, but he was very fast, and the man put away the sniper and grabbed a pistol. He started chasing his target, sprinting as fast as he could.

Twenty-four hours earlier, a citizen, Ethan McKell, had been watching TV in a warm, cozy house. He abruptly shut it off after seeing the news bulletin: “The villain known by many as the NightShade has stolen yet another vault from our highest security bank. Where will he strike next?”

The citizen had heard enough about this “NightShade” guy, so he decided to go play with his kids outside, which he would soon regret. The moment he left, the NightShade made his move to the citizen’s house. He had been watching Ethan for a while. He was the richest man in town, with many small vaults of money hidden across his mansion.

The NightShade crawled out of the giant vent in the bathroom and silently crept through the expensive hallways. He knew the man was outside by hacking into his many cameras, patiently watching. He went into Ethan’s bedroom and spotted a giant closet filled with clothes and shoes. Digging around, he found a small passcode lock on a metal vault. He pulled out a decoder from his duffle bag and held it up to the lock. The decoder instantly started switching around numbers until it found the correct code and unlocked the door.

He had created the invention himself, and he took much pride in it. He grabbed the money in that vault and found another one before the man came back in with his kids, Brody and Seth McKell.

The NightShade dived under the bed. It was dark under there, but he made a run for it once he saw his chance. He barely made it out without being seen. The owner heard something but couldn’t tell what it was. Just when the NightShade thought he had escaped, he felt a long wire graze his foot. He looked down and noticed a tripwire. He decided to run for it. The tripwire had alerted the police.

The NightShade knew what was going to happen, so he escaped through the back door and sprinted to nearby woods. There, he hid his duffle bag. He finally got caught; this was it. “Alright, buddy, we’re going to put you in jail for a long time,” said a police officer in a rough tone. But the NightShade smiled and shrugged. This wasn’t his first time going to jail.

Sure enough, he wasn’t in there for too long. The officers sent him to his cell and escorted him to his room. It wasn’t a nice place; a bunk bed was there with scattered and stained sheets, and a small toilet was off to the side. His fellow inmates were very burly and could step on him and crush him. The NightShade, who was correctly identified as Paul Roberts, was very small compared to the giant men.

Paul was considered “the toothpick” of the prison and got caught in beatings almost every other day. But even after the beatings, he didn’t hold much of a grudge. He knew maneuvers to win fights, but he didn’t use them in cases that drew more attention to him. The prison was cold in late December now and bland. It only had a few rooms: restrooms, a kitchen, a lunchroom, a main office, a room for the police, clothes washing rooms, and cells. The prison smelled of dirty clothes and rotten food, which Paul did not deal with very well.

Paul’s escape plan was to pry the window bars open with a contraption of utensils and dirt with strands of grass he smuggled from the lunchroom. He could fit through almost anything he could get his head into, as he was double-jointed in multiple spots. There was just one problem he knew he could take care of: the key card. He could easily get this though.

The next day in the lunchroom, he got his sloppy food and smiled. He sat down at the table he obviously wasn’t allowed at by the other inmates. “What are you doing here, punk?” said a very buff man.

“Oh, I just thought I would sit here with the other weak people in the jail,” Paul said.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Come here, you little—” The inmate grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up. But Paul, while dangling in the air, punched him perfectly in the throat. This made the man let go of him, and he gasped for air. The other inmates looked around, stern looks on their faces. Much murmuring could be heard.

“Let’s get him!” one man said. Of course, the others listened, but this was exactly Paul’s plan. The guards grabbed the man he punched and Paul, not letting the brawl happen. Many sad moans happened when the guards stopped them.

Paul was back in his cell, and he let his plan commence. It was difficult, but once outside, he sneakily got to the gates without being noticed by security. He grabbed the key card he had stolen from the guard after the brawl and unlocked the gate. He was very good at sleight of hand. Paul barely managed to escape with no one noticing.

But pretty soon, someone noticed; it was too late. He already had his duffle bag and was heading to a safe house deep in the woods. Fazio knew though. Fazio was in the Mafia, and he was the man following Paul. Paul made his way to his hidden duffle bag of money and traveled very far.

Now you are all caught up. Fazio is chasing Paul, but Paul stops and turns around with his hands up in the air. “Stop! I know you don’t work for the FBI, so here me out!” He tells Fazio to put down the gun; he has a negotiation. Paul knows by now that Fazio works for the Mafia. He also knows that Fazio is pretending to be an FBI agent so he can get the money for the Mafia.

So Paul, with a smile on his face, bribes him with $500,000, and Fazio gives in; he can just tell his boss he got Paul. Fazio didn’t realize, though, that Paul was holding out on him. Paul’s money was closer to $5 million. However, Fazio’s boss  was satisfied, and Paul was on the loose. It’s a win-win for both of them. But Paul, or Nightshade knew this was just the beginning of a new game.