Kill Or Be Killed

Chapter Two

Scale Number: 1

Kalayavan threw open the thick metal door of the hall with ease.

Inside there are rows of long wooden tables that were filled with an abundant amount of dinner and even more Relevents eating it. Each table switching between colored uniforms with few dotted differences spread out amongst the segregated classes. Walking through the main aisle, he ignored the greetings of those brave enough to call out to him.

His eyes locked on the head table at the front of the room, raised up a couple of feet above the rest of the room, where the five Elders resided. These four men and one woman were those who made up the Table of Slaughter; the entity that ruled over the Relevent population.

Each of them were from one of the specialty classes;

Neraders, who directed the calls and sent out the desired assassins as needed. Overly trained secretaries.

And Klenars, who were theater enthusiasts who can make any contract kill scene look like an accident. Essentially just a clean up crew.

Then there were the Esasens who knew more about blade work than almost anyone else, including anything sharp that could be easily turned into a weapon.

Next, Belistiks, capable of disassembling and reassembling any kind of firearm, before shooting their bullseye blindfolded.

Finally, Sepireers, which were the ones trained to excellence in every area to become the Table's personal bodyguard. Save of Kalayavan who had too much potential to keep locked up in their confinements.

Otherwise referred to as, no longer wished to deal with his continuous pent up anger fits that sent the recruits to the infirmary.

When he arrived in front of them, he kept his back straight and his head high, not showing them the submissive respect all the others would have demonstrated. He knew he was the best there was, making it impossible to find anyone to replace him; let alone to find someone dumb enough to take the hit out on him.

Not caring that the surface of their table came to his chest, he slammed both hands down on the wooden hardtop. "I demand an extension."

His statement brought a blanket of silence over the chaotic room, not because of his blatant disrespect; no, they were used to that. It was the request for extra time that baffled them all. The three days that were given for a contract were more of a cushion in case something unpredictable kept one from retrieving their kill.

Not something Kal normally needed, only needing one and using the first two to do as he wished. Like getting the dozen tattoos that were hidden under the sleeves of his armored uniform, or obtaining all the unauthorized items he owned outside Headquarters.

"An extension?" Ky asked for the rest of the Table, his permanent resting bitch face looking as if he were accusing the Sepireer of lying. "For what reason? Your assignment has been handled, the bounty claimed." Of course they knew the fucker was dead, they knew nearly everything.

Except for his dirty little secret, which he'd gone to lengths to keep hidden from them.

Straightening, Kalayavan held his head higher, "In accordance with our laws, I have a right to seek out and collect the bounty stolen from me."

There was a hiss of whispers from behind him as the room erupted with a muted roar of surprise. No one was stupid enough to steal from a Sepireer, let alone taking a kill from the deadliest of them.

"Do you have proof of this theft?" The scratchy voice of Slender, the oldest of the Elders, inquired. His experience would've allowed him to knock the young Sepireer on his ass in a hand to hand combat simulation, despite the fact that his appearance screamed 'fragile' and 'ancient'. Relevents didn't age like humans, they weren't immortal by any means, but they did live five times as long as the humans.