Dark Day

Not only did I hear the heavily falling rain, but I also felt beat down on me as I walked down the street. Cars drove past, and I heard the water wash under the tires. The cars were as uncaring of me as I was to them. I walked further my head and clothes soaked by the torrents of rain coming down from the sky.
As I walked along I listened to my feet, slish slosh, slish slosh it said. Then I heard an accompanied sound of feet behind me. I didn't panic, but continued to walk steadily along and pay no heed to the noise of my follower.
The sky was dark and the sun was hidden behind blankets of clouds. The sun hardly had shone her face all day, as if she was too scared to come out behind the clouds. Before I could stop myself I looked back to glance at my follower. Through the falling rain and the dark I could see nothing. I turned around, there in front of me was my follower, dress, of course like all villains, in black.
I could've been my imagination, but it felt like the rain was coming down harder. I felt a drop coming down my face like a bead of sweat. My follower approached me.
"Nasty weather isn't it?"
"Not quiet as nasty as yourself." I commented back.
"We are certainly in a bad mood aren't we?" replied my follower, "I was just trying to create conversation."
"Quite the civility and get on it," I retorted. "I'd like to get home at a decent time."
"We can definitely do that, if you give it to me," my follower said smirking.
"I'm sorry, but that I can not do."
"Pity," he shrugged. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to kill you."
"And I'm hoping I don't get pneumonia. Let's get this over with shall we?"
"As you wish."
Then he charged me. At the last moment I stepped to the side, took his out-stretched arm pulled it behind him, and held him against the wall. The rain continued to pour.
"You always make this so easy,"I said.
"You didn't have to do that right away you know."
"I told you I want to get home."
"What are you going to do with me?" He asked, voice a little shaky.
"Give you another chance." I let go of him and started to walk away. Once again I noticed how wet I was. I was only three, maybe four feet away when I heard the cocking of a gun, and then the firing of one. I felt to the hard wet ground, safe —well, not exactly— and alive. I turned around, he had the gun pointed at me.
"You still can't get it right can you?" I asked.
"Third times the charm."
"That never works."
"Just watch," and he fired the gun. Right then I dove toward his feet and knocked him to the ground. His head hit the pavement, hard and was out. I took his gun, and said to the unconscious body, "I'll let you try, one more time," then walked away in the rain.
In a couple days I was sick. A week later I had pneumonia. I knew it would happen.