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I started writing this for my Creative Writing Class a while ago, and have been adding pieces every once and a while...

EDIT: This isn't updated in chapters, just chunks of story...

A loud thumping sound came from the office with the doorplate labeled, ‘Sctt Davs - Lwyer’, if one was to enter this room, they would be faced with an odd sight. A middle-aged man in a most assuredly expensive suit was methodically banging his forehead against his most assuredly expensive oak desk, mussing his most assuredly expensive bad haircut.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid –“ His tirade against something that was most assuredly stupid was cut short as a nervous-looking young man in a thrift store suit tentatively opened the door.
“Mr. Davis?” With a groan, Scott Davis lifted his flushed face from his desk.
“What do you want Sam?” He scowled, this wasn’t a very good day for him so far, his divorce had just been finalized, he’d found his mistress cheating on him with his other mistress during his lunch break and he had just lost his biggest case of the year. Not to mention that all of his head banging had crossed his eyes, and if there was one thing he didn’t want, it was to see two of his twitchy assistant. One Sam was enough thank you.
“I. Sir, it’s just that, I. I accidentally gave that package you gave me to the wrong people!” With a twitch his voice cracked up when he blurted out that last part of the sentence to such levels, that the bats living in the tree outside promptly fell off their branches and began doing something that looked like the Hustle. His young Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat erratically as he swallowed what tasted like the baloney sandwich he had eaten for lunch and felt like vomit.
Scott’s face darkened, going from a tomato-red to a full out, Ferrari-scarlet.
“Perhaps you would like to explain to me, what you meant by that. Sam.” The assistant squeaked and swayed where he stood, the colour in his face rushing away.
“I, the other package for your wife, her. Her. Her under-things that were in the same type of package that you were giving back to her. I accidentally gave them that instead and-” Sam, unfortunately, was unable to finish his sentence, being forced to duck in order to avoid a large glass paper-weight that consequently smashed into the wall behind him.
“You-“ Toss “Stupid-“ smash “Unreliable-“ Throw “Tit!” Crash.
Scott reached for another heavy, breakable object, which was supposed to be conveniently within his grasp, when his hand closed on empty air. He flailed about randomly for a moment looking for more ammunition when he realized that it would probably be better if he went and fixed the problem, instead of destroying his valuables. The assistant could wait.
“You,” The incensed lawyer snarled, pointing a shaking, knobby finger at his assistant, “will stay here and clean this mess up, and then when I get back, I am going to deal with you.”
Sam shivered, or rather, spasmed when his boss spoke. That last part of the sentence had an ominous feel to it, he thought, and was far too afraid to say anything back, so he gave a jerky nod.
“Good.” Scott grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, making sure to snatch an umbrella on the way.
The weather was terrible, the wind wrenched at the umbrella clutched tightly in Scott’s hand, soaking him in the hard spray of freezing cold rain. The light tan of his coat had darkened to a brown, and it clung to his frame, making wet slapping noises every time he took a step.
“That does it!” The umbrella had just flipped up, rendering it completely useless. With a growl; the lawyer slammed the now useless bit of metal into a nearby trashcan before tucking his hands into his pockets. A futile action really, the rain had already drenched his pockets, and proved to only make his hands colder. Scott hunched over as his final defense and continued down the sidewalk at a fast pace.
Soon Scott saw what he was looking for in a tall dark skyscraper, looming in the gray sky. Across the entryway, in large golden letters was the name of the one of the most prominent businesses in the city. Sunbucks, a popular coffee chain, and his client, was the owner of the entire company. His client, who was about to receive a package, not of the papers he was expecting, but a package of used woman undergarments.
Scott wasn’t having a very good day.

“s**t!” Scott threw his hands up in the air, promptly decided it was a bad idea, and tucked them back into his pockets before continuing his diatribe. “Stupid, wretched assistant, I ought to fire his scrawny a** for-“
Several loud squeals of tires jerked him out of his rant, he swung around and watched in horrified amazement as over two dozen cars all seemingly lost control at the same time, careening into traffic, poles buildings and pedestrians. He stared frozen in place, as a red car roared onto the sidewalk; he could barely make out the driver, slumped over the wheel. The car headed in the direction of a woman lying unconscious on the pavement, and with a sickening wet crunch it drove over her before embedding itself in a storefront.
The terrible sound wrenched Scott out of his shocked poise, the realization of what had just happened, what he had just witnessed with his own two eyes hit him and he jerked, the involuntary motion sending him to the ground. The lawyer sat there for a moment, dazed and confused before grasping that he was in a dangerous place, and he leapt up, running down the street away from the spreading red stain under the vehicle.
He saw more things, terrible things as he ran down the street, trying to find some place safe. He saw women lying down in the middle of the street, cars were in pieces, flaming twisted shapes of metal that might have been cars once where everywhere. A helicopter had crashed into a skyscraper, and molten bits of shrapnel rained down from the sky, appearing out of the black smoke like so many pieces of hell. He couldn’t help, he didn’t know how to.
He just ran, like every other person on the road. They were all like him. Men running. They were running to their loved ones, or away from what might be death. Running unfalteringly towards hope, or the last fading steps before the red life that flowed from them ran out. Or perhaps they were like Scott, running for the sake of running, because they couldn’t think of anything and reverted back to the age-old instinct, to run when there it danger.
And danger was everywhere.
Finally Scott saw something that could help him, a reason to stop running. There in front of him stood an armored van, seemingly untouched by the panic surrounding it. It was the angel Gabriel saying to Scott;
“Do not fear,” and so he didn’t. Much.
He scrambled forwards, pulled open the door with all of his strength and darted inside to sit on a soft warm seat.
“Excuse me! But what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” A deep voice exclaimed, with a touch of the Bronx in his voice. Scott froze and slowly took in his surroundings. His soft warm seat was, in fact, a man, the speaker he assumed, and there were three other men squished in the cab with him. All four were wearing a black sort of uniform, with matching black ski masks.
“Yeah, I mean, Jesus H. Christ man!” The thief farthest from Scott cried out in an unpleasant nasal voice. “What th’hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What the hell am I doing?!” Scott shouted, his eyes wide, spit flying everywhere. “What the hell are you doing? There is some kind of war going on outside and here you are, sitting inside nice and safe! Why aren’t you offering anyone the safety of this damn hulk?” Two of the men shifted guiltily.
“No we can’t!” Retorted his human chair, “I’m not sure if you’re blind or just stupid, but we’re wearing ski masks! Hello?! We’ve just robbed a goddamn bank, no matter what kind of disaster is going on, there are people who will kill us to steal what we rightfully stole!”
“Oh, but not if they’re already dead! Is that your logic?” Scott said sarcastically, finding that his mouth was now moving of it’s own accord. This, he found, was rather interesting he mused to himself as it continued it’s offensive speech without him. “Do you really think that matters right now? People are dying you self –centered bastards!”
The bank-robber sitting next to Scott and his cushion widened his eyes, looking downright shocked.
“Language!” He said breathlessly, putting a hand delicately on his chest before turning to his fellows. “The man is right you guys! What are we, a bunch of savages?”
“Oh shut up Will!” Scott’s human seat interrupted.
“William.”
“Whatever. Look, this isn’t the time for this. We’ve got to get out of here, once we get rid of our freeloader here.” He jerked a thumb to Scott.
“Bradley, don’t you think that’s going a little too far?” The nasal-voiced man said, whistling on his ess’s.
“Oh you shut up too Donnie-d**k. Do you really want you and Derek to move back in with your mother? I thought you two wanted to go out and make money off of your twin hood?”
“We did but we’re having second thoughts about it now. Aren’t we Dominick” His twin, Scott assumed, nodded “Just look out the window Bradley!”
The man Scott now knew as Bradley rolled his eyes and looked out the window as he was told. The rest of the group looked with him, the tension growing so thick as to be able to cut it with a knife.
White particles were falling from the sky like snow, resting gently on the scene in front of them, coating the whole road gradually in its soft splendor. For a moment, the men lost themselves in the illusion, but then what it really was hit them. It was the ashes of the wreckages, that had been blown up into the air, and was now coming down.
The scene quickly went from beautiful to gruesome, one of the twins, hurried to open the door, getting it open just in time before he could expel vomit all over the seats of the armored van. The sound broke the trance.
“Ugh, God. Nice move Donnie-d**k.” Bradley exclaimed. “And get off my legs you dork, I can’t feel my feet!”
“My name is Scott.” He retorted, doing as he was told and slid off the other man’s lap, squishing beside him on the seat.
“My name is Scott.” He retorted, doing as he was told and slid off the other man’s lap, squishing beside him on the seat. “For the record, I am not a whale’s baculum.”
His comment was met with confusion.
“Never mind. Anyway, I should go to my office, whatever task I was doing is completely useless now…”
“Task…task! I’ve had an epiphany, turn on the radio!” Bradley swatted at Dominick who jumped before leaning forward and turning the radio dial on.