My blood is the honor for the fallen. My pain is the victory of the conquering. My screams are the battle cries of warriors claiming their freedom from war. But my soul is the spirit of my ancestors.
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Our judgement was darkened with hatred. For one another, for our sinners, for God. But after a while, we realise that we were doing the work for the Devil himself.
CHAPTER ONE
Washington D.C., M.D.
March 21, 2016
"Hello, young lady. How can I help you?"
The middle aged man asked as a girl approached the food truck. Her black hoodie covered most of her face, making her look even creepy to the eye.
"Yes, you can help me."
The girl reached into her pocket and pulled out her gun; pointing it at the man as she met his fearful grey eyes.
"Where is Harrison?"
"Who?"
"Terrence Harrison. Where is he?"
"I don't know who you're talking about."
The gun clicked as his heart began to beat faster with fear.
"You can do this the easy way where you can have your job and life still. Or the hard way where I shoot you."
The man pointed to his right and the girl looked to see the Air & Space museum. The girl looked back at the man before she shot him in cold blood.
Screams rang throughout the entire area as the girl walked away fast; making her way straight towards the Air & Space museum.
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