aeternum-writer

Peter limped through the winding network of back alleys, business suit wet with blood and dirty blonde hair disheveled. One hand clutched the bullet wound in his stomach, the other feeling along the surrounding brick walls for support. A business deal with a local mob boss had gone sour, leading to the death of his bodyguards and him being hit. Somehow, he had managed to lose his pursuers through the alleys, but now had to deal with the consequences. Every shaking step his vision dimmed a little more, each one being shorter and more unstable, threatening to dump him onto the grimy concrete. Pausing near a dumpster, Peter nearly choked on his blood, vomiting in the dumpster before collapsing, splayed over the dirty ground. In his last moments of consciousness, Peter looked in front of him, spotting something small and shiny within arms reach. It was a golden ring, heavily contrasting with the dark surroundings. With the last of his energy, he reached out, grasping the ring and he