Barbara Waters walked down Hudson Street to the Target parking lot. She had come out of work and was going to pick up her camera pictures. She gasped as she was pulled into a small alley by a firm hand. Barbara was thrown onto the ground and she heard the cock of a gun.

"Mrs. Waters, would you so kind as to hand over your bag? Give it to me, and I will spare your life."

Barbara slowly stood up, wincing at the pain in her back. "Is that you? Why are you doing this? I'll have you fired Mr. Si-"

The man backhanded her across the face and she stumbled back a few feet.

"Please don't make me shoot you. Just hand me the bag."

Barbara walked toward the man and looked him in the eye. "No, you cretin. Now leave me alone."

The man pushed her away and raised the gun. He aimed at her forehead and squeezed the trigger. A thunder clap echoed in the small alley. A single bullet shell fell from the pistol and landed on the ground.

But the man didn't notice it.

A pool of blood seeped out of the hole in Mrs. Waters head, and the man accidentally stepped in it.

"Crap. What to do, what to do?"

He took of his shoe and looked around. He stuffed it into his jacket and held it there. He ran out of the alley and into the lights of Los Angeles.

*insert dramatic music here*

This is off to a great start.

Something is bothering me. If you'd killed someone, you wouldn't run itnop the streets. You'd be more likely to find aback door, etc.

Sorry to be a partypooper.

Otherwise, simply brilliant.