The Working Title Job

CHAPTER 0. "Prelude to a Storm."

A gunshot rang out through the dark and stormy night sky.

"This is such a cliche you know!" A male voice shouted as a set of boots ran across a steel beam near the top of a half-constructed building, leaving a trail of blood behind them across the metal. "Leading us up here like this after everything you've done?"

The cloaked figure fleeing for their life had nothing to say as they climbed up a wooden set of stairs to the highest unfinished floor.

"What? You don't have anything to say to me now?" The owner of the voice asked as his own sneakers stepped down onto the blood-laced steel beam. "Are you really playing this scenario to the fullest? And for what? Your audience?"

His shoes stepped up the wooden stairs carefully, calmly, with exact planning, unlike the person whose plans had worked so wonderfully until this final moment.

"This isn't going to end well if you're seriously going to keep this charade up," the man called out, "just stop this now, nobody will think any less of you."

The man stepped up onto the lone steel beam that stretched out over the ruined city, confronting the shadowy figure at the far end of the beam, back turned to him as they stared down at the city that looked up from below.

"It's time we ended this," The man said.

With a flourish, the cloaked figure spun around- cape flaring out to the side dramatically as they turned to face the Last Great Detective.