The Things We Do (Under Editing)

One Bullet, Two Bullets, Three Bullets, Four

Surprisingly, I did wake up. Unsurprisingly, I was still tied to a chair in complete darkness. Through the pain in my head, I could feel an added dryness in my throat and a clenching in my stomach. Our host hadn't bothered feeding us. My chin was probably bruising my collarbone at this point, but even if I had the strength to lift my head, my neck was so stiff that moving it hurt more.

I don't know how long I sat like that, staring blankly down into the darkness. My heartbeat was the closest thing I had to the tic of a clock, but I trying to count that would have driven me insane. So I sat...

Eventually the door opened. My head was clearer this time so I could tell the sound came from my left and behind me. That was something, at least. Footsteps crossed the room and a heard a couple clicks in from of me. The footsteps moved to my right and a screech echoed, just like last time. The same awful voice followed.

"I'm tired of waiting. What kind of person saves a little girl to whom no harm was even threatened, but will stand by while one person after another is shot through the head?"

How many people had already died? They said they'd kill one a day. How long had I been out? Had I woken up and just couldn't remember?

" One bullet, two bullets, three bullets, four. Just how many are you going to make me waste on this? At first I thought you might just not believe me, but now..."

Of course no one answered the question. The footsteps moved behind me and my head was yanked backwards. A bag was pulled off my head and I was plunged into uneven light. All I could see was glare and flashes of red. There was so much red. I wanted to lift my stiff arms, to run on unsteady legs, but they wouldn't move. My head dropped back and I forced my eyes to focus, finally seeing the ropes binding me to my chair.

"As many bullets as I have to use, as many people as I have to shoot, I will keep this up until someone tells me what I want to know. If no one comes forward, then I'll just have to shoot everyone in the city. One of you is bound to be the person I'm looking for."

What sort of person was this? Eyes rolling forward as far as possible, I used what little strength I had to lift my head a few inches as look at the person holding me here. There, on the other side of the room, slowly loading an old fashion revolver, stood... me.

Wearing a costume that looked just like mine, down to the last detail, there stood a copycat of Phantom Banshee, in appearance at least. I wouldn't have done something like this, not to this extent, would I? I'd known walking into this job that I'd have to do things that would make Hitler cringe, but had I really understood.

Not that any of it mattered now. This fake was moving towards me. Eyes focusing past her, I stared into the camera as the cold barrel was pressed to my head. My head fell forward and my gag nearly fell out. I spit a little to help it on its way.

"I suppose asking nicely isn't going to get me out of this." The copycat froze, performance momentarily put on hold. "You see, I'm not really into this sort of thing" Kacie always said that one day I was going to make a comment like that to the wrong person and it was going to end badly. I was about to die, though, so I might as well go out the same way I lived.

I wasn't expecting the laugh, though. It still sounded horrible through the device, but it would have thrown me off anyway. "I like you," she said, before cracking me so hard over the head with the gun that my chair was flung sideways. I managed not to slam my face into the ground, but I was left with a close-up view of a puddle of dried blood. When I turned my head, I could finally see the line of hostages two that had been to my right. There were none on my left.

This time, I could stare straight down the barrel of the gun when she pointed it at me. There were no more snarky comments for me to make. My head was buzzing. I decided that I didn't like her smile.

Pounding broke through my panic and it took me a moment to realize it wasn't coming from inside me head. The copycat's head turned to the door, which was now behind me. The room froze like a paused movie. I held my breath, not because I chose to, but because I felt like the air wouldn't move if I tried.

When the door slammed open, everything started up at once. The other hostages moved for the first time, leaning forward to pin their chests to their knees. One of them screamed. I curled up as best I could where I lay, flinching yet again as someone shot the copycat's hand. The cursed, dropping the gun as she pulled her injured hand to her chest and backed away. Even caught in the corner with nowhere to run, she was still smiling.

I really hated her smile.

Detective Matthew Corum stood facing her, glare and gun steady. Other uniformed figures were untying me and the others, but my focus was on the faceoff.

"What happened to 'Don't point your gun at me?'" Whoever this was had been paying very close attention.

"What happened to 'I don't like guns'?" The detective nodded at the revolver.

"Desperate times."

Taking slow, careful steps toward her, Corum spoke in a low voice. "You have nowhere to run this time."

The smile stretched farther, as did my desire to burn it off her face. ""Are you sure about that?"

The small room was suddenly echoing with a harsh scream. Had there been any glass around, it would have shattered. I slammed my newly freed hands to my ears, from which blood might have been dripping. Corum, however, didn't move, ears already protected by ear plugs. He was learning.

When her plan didn't work Copycat instead set off a smoke bomb. I heard a gunshot and the detective's order to shut the door. I instinctively moved to grab her when I felt her pass, but I missed. I knocked over the camera instead.

The smoke cleared. Somehow, even with the door closed, the smoke cleared. "Phantom Banshee" was gone.