DIE ANOTHER DEATH :- THE UNDERWORLD RELOCATED

DIE ANOTHER DEATH:- THE UNDERWORLD RELOCATED [6]

PEOPLE, GEAR UP FOR SOME MAJOR ACTION !!! JUST SIT BACK AND ENJOY !!! ;-))

                               CHAPTER 6:-  

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          The appalling sight before me was one of mayhem. The walls, bulletin boards, coffee machine, filing cabinets, desks and chairs were streaked with dried blood tracing fountains and tendrils all over. The dark puddles on the floor had painted countries and continents in every direction. Computers, telephones and equipment were smashed as if by someone wielding a heavy sledgehammer. There were papers everywhere, as if a giant, powerful fan had been turned on in their direction. Many were torn to shreds, with some having holes in them.

           Flies zipped around lazily, patronizing the pools of dried blood, the partially eaten food items- mostly bagels and donuts- and occasionally the stale coffee in the mugs on the desks.

           There were bullet holes everywhere, but the entrance and the walls winging off it were the most riddled with shots. I could make out bullet marks made by pistols, assault rifles, shotguns and some.

            Broken guns littered the floor. Muzzles were twisted, shotgun barrels were curved in, rifle butts were shattered and pistols looked like they had been stamped on by someone immensely strong.

            I chose my way carefully through the mess, my heart beating fast. This is not good, I told myself. This is definitely not good.

            I walked past the captain's cabin. Out of curiosity, I pushed the door open and stuck in my head. It was all in shambles. The polished desk was lying on its side, amidst a jumble of electronics and paperwork. The desk had several deep gashes on the surface. On the wall over the swivel chair, there was a single splotch of blood. I hastily withdrew my head.

            I made my way around the rampaged police station, witnessing similar tell-tale signs of mindless violence and vandalism. The holding cells were a carbon copy of the rooms and halls outside. The fetid, ammoniac odour from the grimy flush toilets coupled with the general filthiness and the added on blood created such heady, potent, noxious fumes that made me nauseous. I retched, wanting to vomit out the entire contents of my stomach, but somehow I held it all in. My throat was burning and I felt that I could taste the decay on my tongue.

            Enough, I decided. I had enough. Sorely desiring the relatively fresh air of the outside world, I hurried back the way I had come.

            As I passed a desk with drawers, my boot hit the butt of a gun lying underneath it. The weapon slid out from under the desk and I reflexively picked it up. It was a black Benilli M4 shotgun and surprisingly intact. Obviously it had survived the fate that the other guns had befallen. It was not loaded, so I located the armoury and sought out shotgun shells. The ammunition had been left intact, the perpetrators of the attack apparently satisfied as to their uselessness, what with the guns having been 'decommissioned'. Grabbing a couple of boxes of shotgun shells, I was on my way out when a grey symbol above the doorway arrested me in my tracks.

             "That bloody symbol again!" I seethed.

             A red circle with a fanged gray skull in it looked upon me. The familiar inscription inside registered on my retina- Immortalis mos sceptrum.