The Innocent Victim
The scorching sun beat down mercilessly upon the dilapidated streets, where poverty reigned supreme. In a cramped, dingy room, a man lay writhing in agony, his body ravaged by the relentless grip of typhoid fever. Beads of sweat trickled down his gaunt face, his eyes sunken and hollow, a mere shadow of his former self.
Unbeknownst to him, a storm was brewing – a tempest of violence and retribution that would soon engulf his world. His friends, embroiled in a vicious college feud, had unwittingly ignited a powder keg of vengeance. The opposing gang, their pride wounded and their thirst for revenge insatiable, had vowed to strike back with brutal force, targeting the next member of his friends’ circle.
With no means to afford medical treatment, the man’s only hope lay in the distant hospital, a beacon of salvation amidst the darkness that enveloped his existence. Mustering what little strength remained, he embarked on a perilous journey, oblivious to the danger that lurked in the shadows.
The Hunters Await
As he approached the hospital’s entrance, a chilling sight greeted him – a menacing group of youths, their eyes burning with hatred and their hands gripping deadly weapons. Among them, a figure brandished a gleaming sword, its razor-sharp edge catching the sunlight in a macabre dance.
The man’s heart pounded in his chest, his fever-addled mind struggling to comprehend the unfolding nightmare. He tried to reason with them, his voice trembling as he pleaded for mercy, proclaiming his innocence in the conflict that had consumed his friends.
But his words fell on deaf ears, for the gang’s thirst for vengeance had consumed their souls. They advanced upon him, their footsteps echoing like thunderclaps in the deserted street.
The Chase Begins
With a primal instinct for survival, the man turned and fled, his weakened body propelled by sheer desperation. The gang gave chase, their cries of bloodlust ringing in his ears as he darted through the labyrinth of alleys and backstreets.
He stumbled and fell, his knees scraping against the unforgiving pavement, but he pushed himself back up, driven by the will to live. The gang closed in, their weapons glinting in the harsh sunlight, their faces twisted into masks of rage.
The man’s lungs burned, his legs screamed in protest, but he pressed on, weaving through the maze of poverty-stricken dwellings, his pursuers hot on his heels. He pleaded with passersby for help, but their eyes averted, fear etched upon their faces.
The Inevitable End
Finally, his strength failed him, and he collapsed in a heap, his body betraying him in his hour of greatest need. The gang surrounded him, their shadows looming over him like harbingers of death.
With a final, desperate plea, he begged for his life, tears streaming down his face as he recounted his family’s destitution and his innocent involvement in the conflict that had sealed his fate.
But the gang was unmoved, their hearts hardened by the cruelty of their existence. With a swift motion, the sword arced through the air, its blade slicing through flesh and bone, silencing the man’s cries forever.
As his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, the gang dispersed, their thirst for vengeance temporarily sated, leaving behind a trail of blood and a family’s shattered dreams.
In the unforgiving streets, where poverty reigned supreme, the innocent often paid the ultimate price, their lives sacrificed upon the altar of senseless violence and retribution.
Power and Pelf 