Untitled Story; Chapter 1 His luck was not the best today; in order to keep an eye on the building's exit, he had to face the bitter arctic wind head-on. Martin stamped his feet and pulled on the cigareete in a futile attempt to draw some warmth. The long puff sent him into a coughing fit, and he collapsed on the wall, thumping his chest to get the smoke out. He looked around furtively to see if anyone had spotted him, but didn't notice any movement.
Maybe he's become overconfident, Martin thought. He pushed the idea away, knowing that it was dangerous to overestimate your enemy. If there was one thing this guy didn't need any more of, it was breaks. Martin dropped his cigarette and stamped it out, not wanting to risk another coughing fit. He picked up the burnt stub and pocketed it. As he did so, the door opened and a girl stepped out.
Martin froze, then straightened up. He shot a glance at the shadows opposite, not seeing any movement. Did he slip away? Has he seen me? Did he change his vantage point? Martin's mind spun possibilities, yet somehow his instinct told him the truth; Martin's coughing fit, while not giving him away, had worked against Martin. He was being more aware of his surroundings, and was letting the girl go to ensure the area was secure.
An hour passed in near-agony as Martin barely moved from his position; finally, the exit opened again. Thsi time a couple stepped out, both more than a little drunk. As they weaved towards their car, Martin saw a shadow unfurl itself and begin to move. He pushed off from the wall, his muscles silently protesting the sudden movement, and pulled out his camera and gun.
He silently let his breath out and took a careful step forward, knowing that the next mistake he makes may very well be his last.
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Yep, I'm starting a new story; let me know what you think.  ¶ 7:37 PM