Five Minutes of One Night
[A short story by IXI]

It’s raining, 
not much but it’s still enough to cool down the clear skies and the bright sun of the past five days.
Streetlights turn on one by one, illuminating a narrow, dark street in a small town which name doesn’t matter for now.
The sun is not completely asleep though, it still shows its forehead over the skylined horizon, leaving a gradient from dark, deep blue to soft yellow in its wake. A few rainclouds drifting in the play of colours
Salt water from the Atlantic begins to pour down the tall black buildings.
Every drop breaks the orange lightbeams and each gives its own colourful touch to the depressive atmosphere.
Sadly, the same lights make it more difficult to see the awe-inspiring sunset.
A seemingly lonely man walks over the wet bricks that make up most of the ground.
The rain falls all around him and a few drops make it on top of his head, keeping him alert and cool.
He wears a long coat that keeps the rest of his body dry, but it also gives him something dark and sinister.
His footsteps are firm, strong but not slow, and they give the impression he’s being followed.
Though the man seems to know what he’s doing, because his walk isn’t enough to let his four pursuers know, that he knows.
Speaking of which, the four men have kept their distance, for now. And they’re staying close to the dark buildings, so their shapes won’t stand out in the empty street.
They look like professionals, with clothes matching the one’s they’re folowing. They’re probably armed as well.
A fifth has joined them, our lonely man discovers by glancing in the side-mirror of a hovercar parked on his left.
He stops, sighing. The sun had now left the stage and the high notes of the first stars were just overpowering the deep bass of the cityglow.
He takes a deep breath, and walks to the center of the street.
His ears picked up the five men from 50 yards away, even through the rain, which was hitting the floor in a chaotic and fluidic beat.
He also sees a figure in the corner of his eye. A young woman stands on top of a Victorian styled warehouse to his right. 
She had been following him and the group all they way, and it looked like she was here to serve as an audience.
Mystery surrounds her, even more than the bloke himself.
But by looking at her you could see she’s skilled in the martial-arts, that she prefers a long Bo staff over a Katana and that Far Eastern blood runs through her veins. The only thing you can’t make out sadly, is the colour of her eyes, which are covered by somesort of goggles.
He smiles at her, she returns the favour.
The group of five comes closer, and their target begins to speak.
  “I see you brought yourself along two more since our last talk.” His voice as cool as the rain.
  “Well, since you broke the arm of one of my men in three different places, I figured I needed some qualified 
    replacements.” The leader seems stoic.
  “Well replacements or not, you’re still not going to collect that bounty.” The man calmly predicts, and he may be very close.
  “Yeah, but last time we didn’t carry automatic plasmarifles.” The Alpha of the pack unveils his collection of weapons under his dark grey coat.
  “Impressive,” His target replies, “you just figured out another way of wasting your money.”
The bounty hunter chuckles before his face turns serious.
  “Talk’s over.” And he grabbed the biggest gun he could carry, ready to blow the legs away from under his bounty.
  “Now hold on a second.” But with one move of his hand, his potential kill stops him from pulling the trigger.
  “This is a bit unfair, and dishonourable not to mention. Atleast wait for me.” The man starts unbuttoning his coat.
  “No,” The hunter won’t fall for that, “that’s exactly what happened last time.”
  “Alright, your choice.” The target removes his hands and looks up.
The rooftop where the young woman used to sit is now empty.
  “You know that person that has been following ud for the last half hour?” He switches subjects.
  “What person?” The face of his enemy turns from serious to curious.
  “You’re not pulling tricks again are you?” He threatens with his weapon.
  “No I’m not, wouldn’t dare.” The man raises his arms to show he means no apparant harm. 
  “See there was this woman,” He continued, “looked a bit lethal and she had this staff which was 
    almost her own length, oh and now she’s...” 
The staff jumps out of the shadow and hits one of the group on his head, rendering him unconscious.
The other end strikes another one in the gut, and he’s finished off with a high-kick. The third to hit the floor receives the staff in his face, flipping backwards and joining the others with a display of flying water.
The fourth pursuer is about to aim his weapon at the wielder, but his rifle is launched from his hands with one clever move by the woman, and he too finds the staff buried in his face.
The team that the bounty-hunter had brought was taken down within twenty seconds by one small woman with nothing but an oversized twig.
Confused and completely dumbstruck, the hunter now turns to the female, a mistake he pays for with the staff rammed hard between his legs.
  “Ah bugger.” His stoic voice seems to have gained a few notes. He bends his knees uncontrollably and sits down in probably the most uncomfortable position of the century.
  “Well good night.” His target says, and he’s about to do his worst.
  “Don’t break my arm.” A desperate plea of a man who’s offspring was now endangered.
  “Alright.” The now ex-bounty moves his right arm back, and breaks the nose of his pursuer in one powerful punch.
The group now rests semi-peacefully, soaking under the rain in the mildly lit street.
Their coats getting darker as they suck up more and more water.
  “We can’t just leave them here, like this.” The female ninja says.
  “You’re right, I’ll call an ambulance.” Her friend reaches for his PDA, and dials the nearby hospital
  “This does mean you owe me one.” She says.
The man chuckles, before someone on the other side picks up.
  “Musgrave Park Hospital, how may I help you?”
He starts to speak, giving the location of the five men, but not giving his own name.
His voice slowly dies away under the rain, which gets harder and faster
The torrent from the skies lets the city know the sky is now completely clouded, 
and that the stars are driven away.
A pity really, but this does mean the new day will have something refreshing to it.
Well, atleast to most. 

The end of One Night