Darren stood stone still, he was behind the leisure plex, staring across at parnell place bus station. He pulled the collar of his black softshell jacket close to the sides of his neck, he also pulled the peak of his BMW hat down over his eyes. If there was one thing Darren knew how to do it was keep a low profile. He felt a stabbing breeze enter through his jeans and cause a full body shiver. He pulled 2 phones from his left pocket, unlocked the small black one and checked the time, 23:15, something is up Darren thought. He was supposed to be meeting Niall Flemming here at 22.40. Out the corner of his eye he saw a motorbike pull up to the traffic lights to Darren’s left. Darren turned on his heels a walked up the street towards the metropole hotel. Suddenly he heard the motorbike roar behind him, he took to a run.
As he tore through the street, he knocked over a couple of tourists with there suitcases newly departed off of the Aircoach bus.
“What the fuck is your game” he heard an angry English accent from behind. Turning onto Harley’s street, he could see the passing cars on Maccurtain Street straight ahead, the back tyre of the bike skid and he stopped at the bottom of Harley’s street. The pillion dismounted, Darren heard a deafening bang from what sounded like a gun, this was followed by a warm tearing sensation through his left shoulder blade. Darren yelped in pain and fell forward landing on his hands and knees, he turned onto his back. Placing his right arm up holding the wet bloodied patch on his jacket he began to move backwards using his feet. The figure walked towards him, he closed his eyes the pain was burning him, the feeling in his arm was numb.
“I’ve been double crossed’ he whispered to himself through the gasps for air. Darren closed his eyes and waited for the next shot. He knew this was it. This is not how he saw the end of his life appearing.