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The story

It was a rainy day, in front of the warehouses of the industrial terrain many pools of water start to form.


A young man was walking pretty fast, with his hood up and a cold expression on his face. However the most people stayed inside their warm homes, he was walking there for a reason. He was there for his father. That were the only words he heard inside his head. Three years ago, he withnessed his father being murdered by one of the local criminals for a very small reason, a reason where most of the big boys would laugh about. His father payed a few euro's less then the street-criminal had demanded for his mariuana.


While he was thinking about that, his hand glided over his jacked to his pocket, where a new handgun was hidden. The last three years, he only could think about one word. "revenge". He was in search of the streetcriminal who has killed the man he loved so much. But, two weeks back, he finally found out where that damn criminal resided.


He reached a street where many houses where scattered, no organisation it seemed. Just a small plot of land, and a few houses dropped here and there. He arrived at the house he had looked for so much, and forced the lock open with a hand-crafted lockpick. He entered the house very quietly and closed the door. He sneaked up the stairs. He was surprised that the stairs were covered with carpet, cause that made his footsteps more quiet, he thought that every criminal should always take the greatest care for his or her own life. and cause carpet does make footfalls very quiet, it only can mean that his victim doesn't care that much about himself.


He stopped and listened. He heard the sound of a telly and the snoring of someone in a room to the right. His hand grabbed his handgun, checked the ammunition in the cardridge, and entered the room ...


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