Traitors And Thieves
Posted in feebility
The light underneath the door told him someone was there. He could hear footsteps just beyond the threshold scurrying across the creaking floorboards.
Who's in there?
The noises stopped. As if contemplating their next move, his unwelcome visitors stood there silent for what seemed like an eternity. Clutching his heart in one hand, and a 9 millimeter in the other, he cautiously crept closer to the door. Hearing nothing, he clicked the lock on the doorknob and pushed the door open quietly. He didn't even have to use his key. Then, just as his eyes consumed the sight of an empty room, he heard the sound of a car engine roaring from the back of the house. Running towards the back door, he got there just in time to see the sedan swerve and careen towards the embankment and speed into the distance. He knew they got what they came for.
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They stopped in the middle of nowhere. They had just broken into a man's house and had stolen what they were paid to steal - an antique Van Gogh. The man they took it from was supposedly a descendant of the world renowned painter.
How much do you reckon it's worth?
Without answering the question, the other thief pulled out his revolver and shot his partner in cold blood. He kicked the car door open and shoved the lifeless mass beside him out onto the pavement. It made a silent thud. He turned the engine over and drove off in the opposite direction.
It's worth a lot more to me than you, Stan.
