A few minutes after Magnus's phone rang it beeped, signifying a voice mail. He sighed, fished the phone out of his pocket, and called his voice mail.
"Listen Martinsson, I don't know what your problem is, and frankly, I don't care, but get your sorry ass back-" Magnus deleted the message before it finished. As he slipped his phone back in his pocket, he heard a noise behind him, he turned sharply, too sharply for safety. And that's probably what saved his life.
A man, about 5'11" wearing a black ski mask and nondescript baggy clothing was behind Martinsson as Magnus turned around. In a sharp upwards motion, the man stabbed low and upward, aiming with his knife for in between Martinsson's third and fourth ribs, but due to Magnus' lack of balance, as he fell, the knife embedded itself in his shoulder, rather than in his lungs.
Martinsson gasped in shock, as his hand instinctively went for his gun, but before he could draw it, the man had knocked him to the ground, and took his gun. As Magnus laid on the damp concrete the man loomed over him, reached for the knife in Magnus' shoulder and with a cruel laugh, twisted it free, causing Martinsson to scream in pain.
"Oh, I like this." The man had a deep voice with a hoarseness that told everyone he smoked.
Magnus clutched at the wound, tears overfilling his eyes due to the burning agonizing pain. The man grabbed the taller man by the neck, and forced him to stand, holding him against the brick wall of the alleyway.
"You're going to pay for what you've done." The man sounded like he was smirking, as Martinsson desperately grasped at the man's hand, silently begging to be released.
The man pulled back the hand the knife was in, and with two swift movements cut open Magnus' wrists, causing the young man to writhe and cry out in agony, as his blood began to pour out at an alarming rate. The man violently pushed Martinsson to the ground, and kicked him in the side, rolling him over, before straddling his torso, knife raised above the man's head.
Martinsson knew he should be trying to do something, trying to get away, trying to stop it, but he was just so tired. His limbs had gone numb, and he just wanted to sleep, but having a man sitting on you, kinda ruined your ability to do so.
The man with a few swipes of the knife, made vertical and horizontal stripes across Martinsson's face, and then with a maniacal laugh began to try to pop out Magnus' left eye. The man slid his knife in-between Martinsson's eyeball and eye socket, as the curly blond struggled feebly. The man wiggled the knife, tilting it slightly, forcing the eye to pull against the optic nerves.
And then suddenly, for some unknown reason, Martinsson let out a piercing scream, Loud and high pitched, sounding almost as if it had come from a teenage girl. Which of course, got attention.
A clearly homeless, elderly man made his way down the alleyway, when he heard the scream. He broke into run, going as fast as his old bones would allow him. When he saw the bloody sight, he let out a shout of outrage. The man with the ski mask, half way turned towards the homeless man, and with a jerk, pulled out his knife from Martinssons eye socket. He then, got up, and ran, swiftly vanishing into the streets.
Martinsson immediately curled up on himself, feeling inexpressible pain as his life's blood pumped out of him and onto the ground.
AN: I am so sorry. It just... yeah. Sorry.