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Prologue of some sort
The rain mixed with the crimson liquid stinging his wound. The cobblestones pressed deep into his spine as the road became covered with blood and rain. He remained motionless, unsure of who had killed him, the attack had been silent and swift. Someone had wanted him gone, they had received their wish.
Though, him of all people, why? As the blood soaked into his suit, the white of his collared shirt soon a very deep maroon, he thought of no enemies he truly had. He'd led a clean life, an honest life. And yet here he lay, mangled beaten, about to die. The rain became more like icy shards of glass landing on his face with the added ferocity of the wind.
Any anguished calls or screams he might have given were lost now within the howling wind. What had caused his current situation? Abandoned in the rain for dead as his life slowly trickled away, he would be washed away by the rain and forgotten in the storm. Nothing. He had done nothing.
He waited for whatever the end of life would bring. Nothing happened. Puzzled he watched as blood flowed form his wounds unabated, surely he should have passed by now? The pain had long ceased as his very bones seemed to chill from his surroundings and the wind. Lack of cover and passerby left him defenseless to the elements. Numb to all feeling he could only wait. Wait for the end of his life. He shut his eyes from exhaustion, too much blood had left him. He waited for death. Yet death never reached him.
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