Ace of Spades - Prologue (beta version)

Hey everyone! This was a busy week, but quite productive nevertheless, and I'll share the labors of my work with you all starting today :)

As a small treat, I'm sharing with all tiers the first (okay, more like the third) version of the Prologue for my CoG, Ace of Spades! This does not include any of the choices and is not the final version that I'll include in the demo coming up before the end of the year, but it's solid enough that I feel comfortable sharing it now!

I'd love to hear what you think about it, but please remember this is not edited so don't worry about any mistakes you may find lol

In addition, later today I'll be sharing an extra sweet Bash short story, and tomorrow comes an extra spicy Cal short story, so stay tuned ;)

*

In a dark alley, nighttime

The sound of my footsteps echoes on the dirty walls surrounding the alley. The moonlight is bright and sharp, like a gigantic light beam aimed straight at me, only countless times more accurate on its aim than the chopper currently roaming the sky, its light slicing through the darkness with the ease of a professional thief picking a lock.

They're getting closer, I can tell.

I hear the shouts, the footsteps and sirens muffling the sound of my own thoughts. How did they get so close? How have I failed so spectacularly that the Bureau is finally catching up to me?

I don't know. This was never meant to happen, and yet…

The filthy alleys of the city surely live up to their fame. Dirty walls, overflowing trash bins, and I can swear I’ve crossed paths with a rat or two on my way.

This isn't how I do things, getting down and dirty like this is beneath everything I've worked so hard to achieve. I mean, sure it wasn't all legal-- but that's not the point.

There is no voice in my ear guiding me to the best escape route, no one worrying about my well-being during this hasty and messy attempt of running away. The ear piece I had on is long gone, tossed down some nasty sewer and definitely ruined by now. It should be impossible for the feds to find it, and even if they do, they won't be able to link me to it anymore. My only hope is that they don’t catch the others too.

Because while they haven't caught me yet, all I can think is how pathetic it is that the last air I breathe as a free citizen is this disgusting back alley stench.

A wrong step around a corner forces me to bite the inside of my cheeks to hold back a groan. Fantastic, just what I needed now.

"How much more can I embarrass myself tonight?" I mumble, leaning against the closest wall to inspect the damage on my ankle. It pains me to see that while there is some hope for my ankle, my shoe is long gone.

I turn it around a bit, testing the extent of movement I still have. It's certainly not broken, just twisted. Small mercies, I guess.

Taking a tentative step, I hiss at the sharp pain that shoots up my leg. Perfect, now I can't even run anymore. From where I stand, I can see the street -- narrow, dark, deserted. Essentially, the perfect place for me to disappear in, if only I can make the next seven steps.

I can hail a cab, or just break into a closed store and lay low until the heat dies down, or maybe even call someone for help. Who would I call, though? I don't know where the others are, I don't know if the feds caught up to them as well, I--

A loud, blaring sound of sirens blasts through my eardrums. A black car screeches to a halt in front of me as I finally reach the sidewalk, with a pair of black shoes coming out as soon as the door flies open.

Stupid feds and their stupid standard issue clothes, do they get a group discount when they sign up? Ridiculous.

A voice I know too well calls out over the sirens.

The smugness in it nags at me in ways I can’t even describe, and I'd love to shut it down, except all I can focus on are the handcuffs dangling their way to me.

Silver, cold, and oh so final in their presence.

I've broken out of my fair share of handcuffs already, could even break free of these too, if I had the means to escape. To which the certainty that I don't is more and more glaring the closer the suit gets to me with those cuffs.

The standard black sedan in front of me looks comfortable at least. Warm, dry. Defeat crawls its way under my skin, an eerie calm settling in the pit of my stomach.

There's no point fighting it anymore, I've lost.

"-under arrest. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you," someone says, reading me my rights as if I don't know them. Clearly this moment means a lot to the Bureau, given the ridiculous amount of cars arriving at the scene.

I know I'm special, but this is too much for just me when there’s my whole crew out there. Far too much.

A warm hand contrasts with the ice cold handcuffs on my wrists, pushing my head down so I don't hit it as I make my way into the car. I don’t even register walking up to the car, the cogs in my mind spinning wildly. If all the cars are here, and all the agents are here, and I am the only one in handcuffs… where is everyone else? I wasn't alone during the job.

The door slams shut, its hollow sound of finality making me shudder.

A shudder from the heat coming from the car heaters clashing against my cold and wet clothes, from the sharp pain still shooting up from my ankle, from the realization that I've finally bitten more than I could chew and, most importantly, a shudder from the disturbing truth downing on me.

I’ve been betrayed.