Huffing, he continued running. Blood was flowing from the bullet wound that he attained from one of the policemen chasing after him. He held onto the wound to prevent blood from dripping and leaving evidence behind. The last thing he needed was for the police to catch up to him. As he carefully zigged and zagged through the alleys, he started to grow breathless.

Deeming it was safe, he hid behind a wall and slumped down against it. He breathed heavily trying to catch his breath as he removed his hand from the side of his body. His shirt and hand was stained messily and he could see blood flowing out. Damn it, he thought, they must have shot a blood vessel. Or an organ, his self conscious argued. He hissed as he lifted his shirt to examine the wound. It looked really deep, otherwise he would have tried to pry out the bullet.

"Fuck."

He felt woozy at the loss of blood. He could hear footsteps and orders being given out in a hurry. He tried to stand back but fell back onto his ass. This is it, he thought. Giving up, he closed his eyes and waited for the men in uniform to come.