Fiction: Group 4
“No! That bag belongs to me; it has
my
money in it.”
“Money? But I checked it earlier, it should only have-” The clearly pissed off leader was cut off
yet again, this time by the drunk.
“Wait, ya mean, er, this ‘ere bag?” The drunk slurred, cigarette dangling out his chapped lips.
You watched as the drunk stared, confused, at the green bag in the back seats.
“Give it here-”
“No! It’s my money! Give it to me!” Both parties reached over, however, the drunk was
surprisingly quick.
“Ifa ya both want it that bad then yeah? Errr, I guess no one’ll get it, hm. Yeah that’ll work, ain’t
it?”
You could only watch in horror as vodka was doused over it aggressively, before he opened a small
part of the zip, shoving his recently lit cigarette into it.
No voices were heard for a while, only the sound of the city night around them, vehicles driving
past either side of the river, the crackle of fire and a harsh splashing of water, was heard.
Reality Two:
Finally, we lost them. You looked behind you to see the remains of the wreckage, a car and two
police motorbikes smashed together in a bloody mesh of metal and flesh. You wanted to loose the cops, but
maybe not their lives. I suppose it couldn’t be helped. You pondered as you rushed past the scene, weaving
through traffic on the back of the sporty motorbike.
“Can you pick up the pace? There’ll be more on us if we keep going like this.” You yelled out
over the blaring horns, trying to at least get a message across. “What?” Sugar retorted back, having to slow
right down to squeeze between lorries, trying to not get crushed.
“I said, can you pick up the pace?!” You bellowed louder, leaning forward.
“Does it look like I can? There’s traffic everywhere! Wait, I got an idea.” She grinned and quickly
began to swerve..
‘Woah okay, changing direction. Left? Okay then. Never been here. Does these even lead
anywhere? Woah, that was close, yeah yeah, sorry. Don’t mind us. Now just to loop around here. Better
hold on again. Man, she sure loves to wear leather. Woah. You got this. No falling off. That’s just
embarrassing. Last set of crates. Never mind. Okay, we’re through. Phew. Glad we got away from the
traffic. Clear road? Eh, seen quieter. Just weave through. Nice and easy. Just another normal night.’
You stare at the lights reflecting off the water, before quickly looking away, concentrating on the
task at hand.
7PM
Reality One:
Glancing around rapidly, you wing down a taxi, getting in clumsily, making sure the bag was out
of the driver’s reach. You leaned forwards slightly, arms snaking around the bag.
“Other side of the bridge- I mean river, yeah, use the Bridge hardly any one uses, and make it
quick okay? I’ll even tip you come on let’s go!” You constantly looked behind you, waiting to see your boss
emerge from the automatic sliding doors, fuming.
The taxi driver nodded quickly, a sharp glow in his eyes after you mentioned the tip. At this point,
you didn’t care; you just needed to get out of that place, and fast. It was only as you pulled out of the
building, did you see what you thought was the devil. Your boss’ whole face was red with anger and
embarrassment, attempting to run after you in her 5-inch heels. You simply chuckled to yourself, watching
amused.
‘Now, don’t get too cocky, you still need to get it to the info broker. Cecilia. Surely, if I don’t get
this to her, she’ll kill me. Nah, that isn’t going to happen, you got the money in the bag, quite literally.’
You mused for a short while, but your focus was broken when you went through a crossroad at full speed, a
motorcyclist whizzed right in front of you with blaring police lights blocking your senses-
And then. Everything. Stopped.
Reality Two:
