The Virtuoso

Virtuoso: Act 2

   I tilt my head up from my bow, and loosen my mouth into a slight grin...

"Well, I'm glad you all loved my drop-dead performance..."

   My grin irks larger, and I let out a slight laughter,

"Oh, how I can be so crafty sometimes..."

I lift myself up from my bow and take a gander at my audience. Each man and woman, thrown to the floor like a child's toy. Each person with their glossy, blank eyes... Each Individual with their mouth flung open, saliva spilling onto the tiles beneath them.

I quickly glance at my brush, raise it to shoulder height, and drop the magazine into my hand. Upon further inspection, only three bullets remain from the original eight after such an admirable performance. Sadly however, three was the amount I wanted to use for this room, not the rest of this prison. With two bullets missing from my plans, I'll need to think much cleaner than I would have had to beforehand... How dreadful...

   I holster my brush, and drift slowly forward. Foot by foot I walk, swaying side to side while cracking my neck. Just the elegance of their lifeless vessels brings forth such a rush of euphoria, it's almost as if I haven't been off my craft for a day...

   Over and around each body I go, looking into their glazed eyes. Each pair set off a story in my mind, drafted from their soulless view and dreadful facial markings. Each soul holds a story; and as such, each soul holds a demon. Even though they may have met one of those very demons today, I am not theirs. Oh no no no, their demons will hunt them down and devoured them as they wish when, they wish.

   Oh yes, today's quest only marked me a demon for two. One to kill; the other to send a message.

"But wait!"

   I hear you gasp,

"I thought the guy you murdered was a family friend! Why did you kill him?"

Ah yes, as family friendly as the contract allows me to get. You see, as a young boy I never cared much for , what they call, 'social interaction' no. I never cared much for that. Instead however, I did find observing others, very interesting.

I never had many friends as a younger child, no,  yet I found myself able to understand their language quickly. Their language, their body posture, their... thoughts... All understood within a few minutes of observation.

When I turned fourteen years old is when this aspiration of others mental status would become a reality. It was around this time when many of my classmates started, what I would like to call their, mid-education crisis. Each child would fall victim, to tragedy during these times; whether it be from their grades floundering... their friendships failing... having their family tree lose a branch just to have it taped up by a different branch. These things would send my classmates crumbling to the school psychiatrist, and have her mend their problems if not just for a small amount of time. I however, never faltered...

I would watch from above as the others would fight amidst their peers... tell each other stories of their fallen fathers and mothers... While I would reap the sorrow and keep in held in my mind. Sitting on the schoolyard's hill helped me learn things, things about people others would never observe otherwise. I learned how to read their body, gaining information such as how they lie and how they react to certain topics. I learned how to watch their eyes, and view into their soul to recapture the truth others let sink in their minds. I learned... emotions, and the true reasons for having them. The real reason for emotions isn't to connect with others, no no no. It's true design flaw is how easy it is to rip ones emotions from their mind and their soul, rending them useless in any situation.