This very city once gave him life, this very city gave him the juice, the push, the essence to live. Now, it has become some sort of worthless unit. He couldn't take it anymore. He wished it could all end now.

Luta got out of the cab. He paid the driver and he walked far away. He gave the pedestrian lane a close look as he used the route. He was going to be smart this time knowing he had a lot of eyes on him.

He frowned as he looked at his wristwatch. He looked, one of the biggest pharmaticular company was reaching out to the sky, right in front of him. He pushed through. Passed the security checker and soon he was in the parking lot. He approached one of the blue BMW parked right after a Corolla sport. He reached for his pocket, got out a key and he pushed the soft button on his car keys. A beep was all he got. He wasn’t making no mistake. He reached for his truck, pulled open and his jaw dropped. He shook his head in dismay then he whisked. The girl he had bounded was gone.

His eyes picked another envelope and he stretched to pick it up. It was intentionally left in the truck. He ripped it open, his finger unfolding the note in it, his eyes hit the note and he grabbed all the info at once.
“Your little girl is fine. She is just a room service girl no reason for worries. I am coming for you when I am done spotting a perfect dinner.”
Luta smiled. It was one way he could counter his inner feeling.

Two things gone wrong! One was the box. The kidnapped lady knew where it was. She hid it. Two, he had no idea who the new stalker was.


A man was wheeled from a white ambulance into a clinic right across the road. The injured man was tied up on the stretcher to reduce mobility he was said to be unconscious. The police had just licensed the ambulance to lift the man from the scene where he was found. He was said to have been kicked in the head, after a car was suspected to have slammed into the side of his intentionally.

The clinic wasn’t too big. But this dying man needed more than the first-aid provided by the paramedics. Anything was a go. He needed to be saved.
Journalists and news reporters were all over the clinic. Flash lights in roll, cords and cameras competing with humans. The clinic was soon filled with more reporters and press men than medical personnel.

The security men had to make way for the man to be wheeled in, and they stopped the pressmen from coming in.
The man was wheeled right into the theatre, two nurses walked up behind those close doors. One of them seem to be more knowledgeable. The lights were bad, leaving the theatre looking like a room who needed more help than the dying patient. The walls were unpainted and the tools were old fashioned.

The door went open and a man walked in. The nurses knew the numbers of doctors they had, how they looked. This was a perfect stranger. He must be new they thought! He moved towards them with no nose mask and as he got closer he adjusted his gloves.
“Shall we?” He said. And before they could question him, he was slipping a silent pistol out of his white overall coat, placing a bullet right through the chest of one of the nurse left the other dead with a bullet in her face. He watched blood surge out of their body and he took a thin frame glass off his suit. He wore it and he smiled. Check up on the unconscious man and he wheeled him out of the theatre.

He busted into a long silent hallway. Then he moved him to the next room after the theater. A box was waiting there. He boxed up the man and he changed from his suit. He was in a cleaner’s uniform. He had a nose mask on and he changed his gloves to a thicker one. He carried the box overhead, moved over to the major control switch box and he turned on the fire alarm. The whole hospital was absorbed by panic as people scampered for dear life.