Timothy Williams

JACKBOOT

The night was cold and oppressive, with a light drizzle falling between the dark and broken building s surrounding the trash strewn alley way. The moon was hidden, the street lights barely illumining the main road through the misting rain. Inquisitor Jacob Wellman snuggled in deeper to his light grey trench coat, eyes fixated on the apartment building across the street. A bum laid out near him next to a festering dumpster snoring softly. Under his coat the heat of his body was trapped by his black tactical gear while the cold rain slid down his back. A light submachine gun was strapped across his chest, hidden in the folds of his coat. A cigarette burned softly, the light haze of smoke drifting away into the night.