Shoot | ɴᴀɴᴀᴛꜱᴜ ɴᴏ ᴛᴀɪᴢᴀɪ

[5]

[ L O C K E R S ]

M E L I O D A S

Meliodas opened his locker to see that Dreyfus had his gear ready inside. He changed where he stood, no one was there with him, there were fewer people around the building at night. Most of the members worked in the morning, only a few people worked at night. It was usually when the specialists were around.

The SDS was a criminal organization that Meliodas had been in for years. He was a specialist in firearms, in both short-range and long-range. He was skilled enough to be dubbed as the Organization's best marksman for his precise aim.

He knew how to use every firearm in their arsenal and was skilled in each one. He intimidated some members; he was young, skilled, and has killed countless amount of people during his time. Witnesses of his assassinations feared him. Most say that he would have an uninterested look in his eyes, sometimes even bored when he hit someone in the head.

Though they feared him, the older generation highly respected him in their organization. Meliodas never took advantage of his title, he didn't care. He was only uncomfortable whenever someone brought it up to patronize him and get under his skin.

"Meliodas, I've just finished cleaning the arsenal. Choose any you'd like," one member on duty for maintenance and cleaning of the firearms told him when Meliodas entered the room. He only nodded and headed to the aisles of different guns.

He passed through the short-ranged guns. Even though his mission was shooting from afar, he found nothing wrong with having a gun in his holster at all times. Besides, he loved his pistol. They gave him his very first pistol when he was first starting, and he used that same gun to kill hundreds of people in his time in the organization.

It wasn't just because he loved handling his gun, but it was also because he gained enjoyment out of killing someone so closely. He loved seeing the bodies collapse under his feet with their blood splattered everywhere. It was always a sight to see. He gets to see their last expression before their death, most were terrified for their lives and he loved it.

His killing intent wouldn't be noticeable because of his perfect poker face. He knew how to hide it well, especially when someone was with him. He would always look stoic and unfazed, but when he was alone, he let his grin spread wide as his victims shriek and scramble on the ground. It amused him.

Meliodas chuckled to himself as he headed to the rifles to pick one for him to use tonight.

W-wait, who are you?

No, stop!

Why are you holding a gun?

[ e r r o r ]

The voices of his victims echoed in his head. He paused, why did they all come back now?

We're friends, aren't we? Why are you pointing that at me?

[ E R R O R ]

The last voice hit Meliodas like a shot to his chest.

He couldn't remember who that was.

It must be the hundreds of people he had already killed? That he's lost count and forgot of them already? But why did that one have more effect on him than the others?

Who was that?

[ e n d ]