[darkangel447]

Hey Guys!

I've had this for ages, and I decided to finish it off and post it up on here. It's set after the film version of Hannibal; if you don't know what happens, there is a summary up on wikipedia, so go check it out

So here we go;

Chapter One; Another Fish Market.
She sat in the back of the van and waited. The clear blue sky was pockmarked by white clouds and even whiter aeroplanes. The crackling radio commented that it was a cool seventy-eight degrees, but the van temperature gauge called it at eighty-nine. She could hear through the windows how the stall owners called out their wares in tired voices; how each competed a better bargain than his neighbour. It was another fish market; another day; another Evelda Drumaco. Again the dry ice in the back of the van waited for a splash of water. This time, however, it was a fruit and vegetable market and they were after Tommy ‘two-shot’ Doherty – an Irish immigrant with more talent for smuggling goods than potato growing. The radio crackled again and a hip, lively tune blared across the market. Women stopped to chat before being shooed by the men of the stalls. They laughed, chastising their husbands and sons before walking off into the shade.

This time she wasn’t F.B.I. She wasn’t even D.E.A. She was a civilian. A member of the nameless faces of the multitude; and the van she waited in wasn’t recently painted nor had its bullet holes plugged. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but she knew there was something. A furtive glance here; a surreptitious nod there.

There was a large warehouse that backed onto the over crowded and over-polluted waterfront, and it was from this that the target – or so she assumed – exited. He was tall and broad, with a loose collared, white polo shirt pulled forward with the collar pressed up-right. His Ray Bands were fake, but the nine-millimetre tucked into the back of his shorts was most defiantly not. Doherty was surrounded by what could only be described as a small crowd, some of which she recognised. To the casual eye, most of this crowd would seem to be friends, but she knew better. They were more like body guards. Hired muscle to take a bullet.

She didn’t know for certain about the raid until exactly seven seconds before the first shot was fired. She felt rather than saw the movement of the D.C police and A.T.F; she saw the officers and followed the line of sight to the target. She blinked as the bullet sped through the air – a deliberate blink that was shared with the gunman. A man to the right of Doherty fell to the ground, convulsing and coughing up blood. The others followed fast, and she heard the characteristic double tap of Agent Wayne – one of the newer recruits who didn’t give her the same raised eyebrows and cold shoulders as everyone else.

Clarice Starling sighed and turned the key to her beaten up van, kick starting the engine into life. As an agent off duty, she didn’t want to be found near the scene of a messy raid. As Clarice drove away, she saw Doherty fall to the ground and she played her raid – her failure – through her head.

She drove back to Quantico within the afternoon; thinking no more of Evelda Drumaco.

This post has been edited by darkangel447: 11 November 2009 - 12:47 PM