Charles Barns burst through the warehouse doors along the banks of London, England, rifle in hand as the midnight moon hung coldly in the sky. The bobbies rushed in around him. A ghastly thin man in grubby clothes and scars and bruises on his face stood and ran.
Charles ran back out through the broken doorway that once held two steel doors in place. He ran along the banks, his feet hitting the cobblestone hard. He stopped and hid behind a large crate. He looked around at the large freigh ships docked in the murky water of the River Thames. Suddenly, a shadow with a strange humanoid shape moved along a tall stack of crates.
"Not gettin' away this time, Henry..." Charles panted, catching up to the shadowy figure up ahead. Charles dove behind a freight ship plank. The criminal, Henry Templeton, stopped in front of the ship. He searched for rope or something to pull himself up with. Charles, as quietly as possible, readied his gun.
Henry turned. He sprinted towards the ship, jumped and grabbed the side of the boat. Charles leapt from his hiding spot and pointed the gun at Henry's flailing body.
"Stop right there, Henry!" He barked. "You're under arrest for the murder of Viola Morson, Daniel Grant and Officer James Trimbly! Cease to resist and I won't put this bullet in your head."
Henry groaned and cursed. He let go of the ship and feel into the Thames. The other officers jogged up behind Charles and began to fish Henry out of the river.
"Well done, ol' boy!" Said an older officer. He clapped Charles on the back, then assisted the other policemen with cuffing Henry.
Another officer shook Charles hand. "You're the best in all o' London, Charles!"
"Thank you, kindly. Let's just get this rat hung up and done with, shall we?" The officer nodded. Charles really was the best in London.
But how long would that last?