The Killers - part 1

chapter 1

Roger POV- “LOAD GUNS!” Derek yelled from the balcony podium, the fumbling of bullets clinking together echoing throughout the room. Sliding my own silver bullets tipped with a crimson red cap into the barrel of the gun with relative ease, the actions performed too many times before not to get the precision right. “LOCK…” Derek said as the numerous barrels locked within the gun… “AND ROLL” his voice booming before the room was full of the spinning of the cylinder from hurried hands not wanting to be the next to not exit the room. Looking around the room, number 14 was slacking off, number 2 was scared… my eyes flicked to number 8, he was no older than 16, what was a boy of that age doing in a place like this. Innocence could be seen across his face, mixed with confusion of why he was here. “STOP!” Derek ordered, smashing his iron hand against the podium. Everyone ceased to continue rolling on his orders, the echoes of the last few rolls of the cylinders slowly fading as we awaited Derek’s next order. “AIM” Derek said. With relative ease i Extended my right arm to hold my gun behind the head of number 5, I shivered as I felt the cool metal against my head. Rolling my eyes to the side, I saw number 8 shaking, his arm unable to keep the gun up steady. “HAMMERS” Derek’s voice booming again throughout the entire room. The clink of metal ceasing and anxious breaths filling the room, especially from number 2. “NOW!… gentlemen… keep your eyes on the light, when it lights up fire!” Derek informed us, though not so much for those of us aware of what was happening, though not so many usually make it past the first six rounds. Heads swerved, body’s shook with fear of who was next. Derek cackled as he watched on at the pitiless lives that were going to be lost from this, no emotion just pleasure out of death. Number 8 shook the most at the waiting of the light to switch on, unaware of what it meant, possibly never to see what happens after. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Derek thumped his fists against the wooden podium, it was only a matter of time before he lost his patience. And just as he did so, the light suddenly flicked on and the firing of guns filled the room. Bodies falling to the floor, limp and lifeless. Blood seeping through their head and onto the white tiles of the floor, staining it from being perfect white again. I fired my gun, no emotion across my face as I blew through number 5’s head with my bullet. He was no more than just a number, a nobody without a name. Dereks high pitched laugh filled the room, number 8 huddled on the floor. Breathing sharply from traumatisation from what he had just done, unaware that he was the one to kill the body that lay before him. The surrounding people looking on in congragulation of their representative to kill others lives… bulgaria in the far corner, russia not that far away from the front. Derek came behind me and clapped one of his steel hands on my shoulder. Appreciation crossed his face before turning back into joy of the many deaths that lay before him, only leaving it for someone else to clean up. “cold are we?”

He asked as I looked around at the different countries and the representatives, some mourning over the dead bodies, others consoling they had made it through to the next round. “Naturally frozen,” I replied coldly. None of the bodies had a name, only a number and that is all they ever will be, nothing more, a nobody at the least. I grabbed my hood and covered my head, disappearing into the darkness of the streets illuminated by the dull flickering street lamps unsystematically placed along the footpath. The sheds lights were still on as I looked back from time to time, a purple smoke emitting through the chimney, bodies burning, the acidic smell infusing the air. Walking along the alleyway to my house, I had a feeling someone was behind me, following me. I stopped and listening to my surroundings a couple of times, but when I did, the feeling left, but the sense of someone watching me remained. I walked to the end of the path, illuminated by one streetlight, spinning around to find a man, covered from head to toe in fur, the silver fur of his coat shining in the light. “Wonderful…” the man slurred covering the word with a strong accent, the origin unknown, as well as his face still hidden as he walked closer to me. He proceeded towards me with great caution, his steps precise, always the same amount of distance apart with each step, as if he has done this a million times, the lamps showing the features of his face slightly, parts still hidden by the shadow of his clothing.