Hey there! In writing my second Sunday Scribblings, I knew I didn't want to write about anything too terribly serious about real Real Life ("Real Life" being the topic of the week and all), so I've sidestepped it a bit and, well, see for yourself. (A bit of a warning though, this is probably a PG-13 story, and remember, I'm a boy, and boys sometimes like a bit of action... :)
Round and round the men ran. Up and up they went until they were at the 12th floor. They’d stopped at nothing to get here. Horribly, they’d even killed to reach this man they sought, and they planned to kill him too.
In they burst, screaming and hollering, searching and, at last, finding.
Bruce was in his robe, chopping vegetables for a large soup he was making when he heard the front door burst in. The coffee was brewing, and the broth was at a boil. He was really in no mood for intrusions, as he already had his day planned. “Damn!” he thought. If his home wasn’t being remodeled, he wouldn’t even be in this apartment, cooking for himself like this.
In ran the first man, gun at the ready, yelling that he found him -- and then nothing. Silence.
“Johnny?!!” In ran the second man until he collided with the hurling knife.
Quickly, carelessly, the final man rounded the corner only to see his two partners lying on the floor. “Dead?” he wondered? And then he was falling, dropping his gun to land near his friend’s weapons.
He struggled and managed to roll on his back, his skin burnt from scalding chicken stock. He gasped when he realized he wasn’t looking at their intended target, but someone else entirely. “The wrong apartment!” he moaned and squeezed out the words “How? Who ... ?”
Bruce grinned a perturbed grin (“This is going to really eat up my neatly scheduled day” he thought to himself) -- “Pal, I’m Bruce. Who’re you?”
“...But, how did you? ... All of ... us ... We’re pros. Like th’ ... movies. How’d ... you...?”
“This isn’t the movies friend, this is real life.”
Bruce Wayne then made a phone call, he had things to do and these bodies were in his way.