[center][color=black][h1]THE MAN IN BLACK[/h1][/color][/center]
[img]https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/008/108/015/large/adam-fisher-afisher-mib-01.jpg?1510544663[/img]

[center][h2]Location: Chicago Illinois | A Back Alley Underneath Some Train Tracks[/h2][/center]

"Get off me!" A middle-aged man with a short, well-shaven beard, and sandy brown colored hair shouted as he tried throwing off his attackers hands, both of which were wrapped around his collar. Backing up as much as he could, the man attempted to pull his assailant closer and tried to kick him in the groin, but the man twisted to the side and rammed a tightly clenched fist into his face causing a sickeningly loud cracking sound to echo throughout the alley.

The man with brown hair clutched his face and wheezed in pain as he stumbled backwards disorientedly. Letting out a few pained groans, the man removed his hands from his face to find the gloves he was wearing coated in blood. His blood. He could feel the panic begin to well up inside his body at the sight of it and desperately began to search for a way, any way, he could get out of this situation, but found none. He turned his attention back to his attacker, who pulled a switchblade from his jeans pocket and flicked it open, and watched in horror as he drew closer.

[i]"This is it..."[/i] The man thought to himself solemnly, tears begining to form in his eyes. This was where he died. This dark and disgusting alley was where they would find his lifeless corpse and what possessions he owned that weren't taken from his lifeless corpse. Possessions which included pictures of his wife and son, he realized with a start. If this bastard got his hands on those, there was no telling what he'd do. Letting out a low growl as a wave of anger and newfound resolve flared up within him, the man got to his feet and balled his hands into fists which he held at the ready in front of his bloodied face. It had been years since he'd gotten into any real fights, but he wasn't about to let this son of a bitch harm his wife or his kid. 

Planting his feet and centering himself to the best of his ability, the man let out a small grunt as he resolutely stood his ground.

"What are you waiting for asshole?" He said. "Come at me."

The thug stopped dead in his tracks and scoffed at the man.

"What, you suddenly grow a pair?" He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

The man didn't reply, choosing to glare at him instead.

"Eh, doesn't matter." He said with a shrug as he resumed his slow and steady walk towards his victim. "Won't change the fact that I'm gonna kill you and take your shit." Twirling the knife in his hand, the thug paused briefly before rushing towards the man, striking out with his hand whilst simultaneously angling his knife in a way that would allow him to cut right into the man's exposed neck. Normally he would have just shot the dumbass and then taken his stuff, but he forgot to bring his nine-millimeter with him when he left his apartment a few hours earlier and was forced to resort to a more "hands on" approach.

The brown haired man readied himself to block or dodge the attack, when the sound of a gunshot caused him to jump backwards in fright. Looking around in shock, the man watched as his attacker let out a pained scream and fell to the ground clutching his now bleeding arm. As he watched the man writhe in pain, the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere off to his left caught his attention. Turning his head in that direction, the brown haired man saw a taller, older, man wearing all black and an odd looking cowboy hat step into the dim pool of light being cast by a street lamp mounted on the wall of a nearby building.

"Garrgh! What the fuck man!?" The thug yelled, staring daggers at the newcomer as he walked closer.

[color=black][b]"What?"[/b][/color] He said coldly as he flicked his guns safety back on before placing it back in its holster. [color=black][b]"Did you'd think I'd just stand back and watch you murder him?"[/b][/color] Bending over, he grabbed the thugs shirt collar and pulled him to his feet. The thug made a hissing sound as the force of the pull and the friction from his clothing agitated the wound in his arm.

"Well yeah, I kinda did." The thug retorted smugly, while doing his best to ignore the flaming pain shooting up and down his right arm. "I mean, why the hell should you care, you don't know this guy."

[color=black][b]"You're right. I don't"[/b][/color] He said, nodding to the man in question. [color=black][b]"But that doesn't mean I have to sit back and let you get away with murder."[/b][/color] The man replied menacingly as he slowly tightened his grip on the thugs shirt collar.

"And just who the hell do you think you are, the Lone fucking Ranger?" The thug spat, his lips curling in disgust as he broke free from the man's grasp. Taking a few steps backwards, the thug bent down and picked up his switchblade before brandishing it at the man and continuing his tirade.

"I mean, who the fuck even wears a cowboy hat along with an all black getup in this day and age? What are you, some kind of old, creepy, emo goth dude? Granted, you're one hell of a shot-" The thug remarked, absentmindedly gesturing to the bullet hole in his upper arm with the knife. "-but other than that you're just some delusional grandpa that's trying too hard to be a badass."

[color=black][b]"I wouldn't be to sure about that. Appearances can be deceiving after all."[/b][/color]

"Oh give me a break you retarded old fart." The thug replied. "Listen, why don't you go back to your retirement home and forget this ever happened, alright? That way no one-" He glanced over at the brown haired man. "-well almost no one, has to get hurt."

The man stared at the thug from underneath his hat for a few moment's, almost as if he were giving the thug a chance to leave, to run, before replying.

[color=black][b]"No."[/b][/color]

The thugs brows shot up as a look of surprise washed over his face.

"No? You've got to be shitting me, right?" He said as he took a few steps closer to the man. "You have a death wish or something? I mean, I know you have a gun and all..." He went on as he slowly inched his way towards the man, getting closer and closer to striking distance. "But it can only do so much..." He was close now. Very close. All he had to do was lunge forward and angle the knife up to cut this guys throat open. His eyes narrowing into slits, the thug readied himself for the attack, the muscles in his arm tensing up as he planted his feet and took a few breaths to steady himself...

Almost there...

Almost...

Now!

The thug lunged towards the stranger in black with a sadistic grin spread wide across his face. One that quickly disappeared as he saw his target reach out and swat his good arm, the one that held the switchblade, off to the side before pulling out his own wicked looking knife. He saw the man reverse it in his grip before making a horizontal slashing motion to the left, whilst simultaneously moving in the same direction to avoid being tackled or grabbed.

Stumbling forward a few steps, the thug tried to speak, but found that he couldn't. As a matter of fact he could hardly breathe. Panicking slightly, he reached up to touch his throat and felt some kind of warm, liquidy substance there. Raising his hand up before his face, the thug realized that what he'd felt was blood.

His blood. 

Spurting from the large gash in his neck.

That son of a bitch had got him. He'd actually gotten him. It shouldn't have been possible and yet here he was bleeding out in an alleyway. Letting out a chuckle, or as close as he could get to one with the hole in his throat, the man sank to his knees, not bothering to try and stop the bleeding. After all, what was the point? He'd already lost too much blood as it was and nothing he did now would change that. Looking up to the star filled sky above him, the thug let himself fall backwards onto the pavement as his vision seemed to swim for a moment before eventually being overcome by darkness.

The man in black let out a disappointed sigh and shook his head disapprovingly as he pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wiped the blood from his knife. Once the blade was clean he tossed the now crimson colored kerchief onto the lifeless body of the thug and slid the knife back into its sheathe.

[color=black][b]"Such a waste."[/b][/color] He remarked as he turned to stare down at the corpse. The man stood there for a few moments before turning his attention back to the brown haired man.

[color=black][b]"You should leave."[/b][/color] He said, readjusting his hat. [color=black][b]"The police are bound to show up at some point and you know how that goes. Questions are asked, suspicions are cast, and drama is created."[/b][/color] The man said as he started to walk away.

"W-wait!" The brown haired man called out, taking a few steps towards him. "W-who are you?"

[color=black][b]"I'm the Man In Black."[/b][/color] The man said as he tipped his hat and walked off into the night.