The door flew open. A man draped in a long, black trench coat burst out. His eyes darted from left to right, assessing the situation from under his broad rimmed hat. He appeared to reach a decision and started to sprint across the shopping mall. Behind him six men, wearing the same outfits as him, piled out of the doorway, they pulled out concealed hand guns from their coats and fired at the running man. Lead screamed past him as he ran, ricocheting off the walls and a bullet tore through his shoulder in a shower of blood. The man stumbled, clutching his wound but continued to run. His attackers sprinted after him firing their weapons; the spray fire pierced his back and he screamed as his legs buckled and he fell to the floor. A small bag which he'd been clutching slid across the floor and into an assortment of gifts at the feet of a cowering man shielding himself with his newspaper.
He reached down and gathered his presents, unaware of the extra package.
The six men advanced upon the fallen man, one stepped forward and rolled him over with a kick in the ribs. He cocked his gun and placed his foot on the man's neck. "You shouldn't have run Sergio" he whispered as he aimed the gun" you shouldn't have run" and pulled the trigger. Looking up from his kill he saw a young Italian man, his face screwed up in fear, holding the package. Seeing the killer eying him, he tried to run but the cold steel barrel pressed against his head told him not to. The man strode towards him, holstered his weapon and spoke.
"I believe you've got something that belongs to me"
"I, I, I don't know what...