Crime Night In Brum
Kareem Rahman
CHAPTER 1
A frost‑lit city of crooked skyscrapers and weary factories stretched beneath a crisp black sky, its edges fading into a snowy horizon. Birmingham had settled into its natural mid‑December rhythm—a winter ecosystem of festive shoppers, exhausted workers, and countless unseen ambitions. Through the glowing outskirts, a silver taxi drifted toward Cathedral Park, carried along by the season’s consumerist pulse.
On the way to this monument of the city’s World War II pride, half‑asleep cars drifted in their lanes while streaks of light flashed overhead. Crossing the busy overpass that tied Soho to Hockley Hill, the silver hatchback slipped between traffic as smoke curled from the chimneys of old manufacturing blocks. Then, dipping below the haze, it descended into the A38 tunnel. A cluster of brake lights and sluggish traffic slowed it briefly, but only briefly. Once free, it emerged beneath the looming cathedral—its stone walls swallowed in electric Christmas lights—and rolled to a stop with a tired creak.
Yuto Sato stepped out, a young man of Japanese descent with messy black hair and the look of someone who hadn’t slept enough.
“Four pounds twenty and seven pence,” the driver barked, his accent thick and impatient.
Yuto turned back toward the open window. With a sigh, he dug through his pockets for the fare.
“Have a good Christmas,” he muttered as he handed it over.
“Yeah, yeah.”
The driver sealed the window and shot off into the chaos of pre‑holiday traffic.
Prick. And here I was trying to be nice, Yuto thought, zipping his coat against the cold.
Cathedral Park—its narrow streets crisscrossing around a frost‑coated rectangular square—was packed. A tide of wool hats, bare heads, and frizzy hair wandered with no real purpose except to spend or, more often, to drink. Across the street, a few dozen men crowded the outdoor tables of a pub, shouting and laughing their way through the start of their holiday leave.
“Bring out the shots, you twat!” one of them yelled, swaying dangerously close to the curb.
“That should be me,” Yuto mumbled, heading toward the usual pickup spot.
CHAPTER 2 - COMING SOON
