Dead Meat

Fan fiction, poetry, and lore. No adult content, please.

Dead Meat

Postby Mr.Shadow1234 » Thu Apr 24, 2014 7:13 am


3 January 2018 0200 hours

100 kilometres from Shahjahanabad

The night was cold and dark, like every other night since the boy died. Five years ago, I gifted him a bow to practice archery, and now I was sneaking in a bush with that bow.

It was snowing like hell, and no one had expected this temperature in UP right now. In front of me, the new DASD headquarters stood out like Aurangzeb himself; dark, gloomy, murderous. I smirked, DASD, a place to call home, well, it once was, at least three years ago.

Do you want to know what messed it up? The food chain. I was at the top, the director; below me was my faithful friend and advisor Miss Cathy Janus. I relied on her, maybe too much, and maybe that’s what caused her to depose me and shoot the boy I considered my son.

Who gives a damn? All I know is that she shot him twice at point blank, with a Bull .480, and a bullet of that calibre doesn’t forgive.

I placed the bow under the bush, knowing that you must keep away from emotional stimulus when you are about to kill someone. In front of me, two of Cathy’s lackeys, dressed in jackets and pants guarded the front door of the DASD HQ; a Haveli (large mansion) built in later Mughal period. The time when Mughals had nothing left but tradition, weak rulers, Ego and ambition.

The front door flew open, and another similarly attired man with a shotgun walked up to them, then the huge oaken doors closed. Lights flickered, and all was darkness, my EMP emission unit was in place and I had about ten minutes to devise a way to get in before power came back.

That night, god must have starched his head, Dandruff fell, and the whole world was a thick, white blanket. I was cold, and my Index and middle fingers and my thumb were numb. I cursed silently; it had been a mistake to choose marksmanship gloves over regular ones.

I made a quick search for guards which felt awkward as there only two outside, one throwing plates into the sky and the other trying to shoot those plates, mostly missing. He was definitely new, given the bickering over the other’s teaching skills and the weight of a shotgun. I found my way to go inside.

I had special customised shades that I received as a gift during my tenure as director,
The shades had NVG, Thermal, an attached red dot emitter, in-built binoculars and an accuracy meter. Added to that they were extremely fancy, and went well with any clothes.

I wish I could tell you more about the architecture, but I was too consumed to notice.
It was cold, very cold outside, but my mind was a volcano waiting to erupt after a long time, to wreck anything that comes near its reach. I pulled back the chain of the kit bag I had, and pulled out a SPAS 12. I had two shotgun shells, and two people to kill.

I loaded the slugs, one-by-one, and the pushed the grip upwards to load it in the barrel. Now, I was ready to blow off their heads.

Five minutes later

The white blanket had a new colour, red. Limp bodies torn asunder by a shotgun. I dropped the SPAS; I had no more use of it, and then pulled out a modified AK12 from the kit bag. The Kalashnikov had dark furniture, foregrip, red dot sight and a skeleton stock.

I loaded a sixty round 7.62 mm casket clip and pulled back the innovative switch meant to load a bullet into the barrel. A sound of Click-Jhak assured me that my weapon was ready. I also had two Bull .480 revolvers with me, and if all else failed, waiting to kill were my most treasured and useful weapons, my knives, my skills and my brain.

I could just wait there for everyone to come out and then shoot them in the head, but maybe I’d drank too many vodkas, because what I came up with was to blow up the front door with five kilos of C4. No, I had something even better. I was going to blow up the whole building to ‘kingdom come’ with a fifteen kilo mortar that I kept in my kit bag just in case. Within a minute, the mortar was ready and then...

All hell broke loose as two mortar shells, one after the other, hit the server room of the building. I knew where it was, I’d built it myself.

The silent, serene background was shattered. The sky lit up as blazing fire scorched the surface, the accumulated snow turned to water, flooding the roads. The cars in the parking lot began wailing, thudded on the pathway, and gore mixed with water to create murky surroundings.

I knew Cathy wasn’t here, she was in London, having tea with the queen, but now she had no one to protect her, besides, this was good psychological influence. She deserved sleepless nights.

Within an hour, I disappeared into the night, and wailing of the emergency services served as background music to the mayhem I had started.
Posts: 601
Joined: Sat Apr 19, 2014 12:54 pm
Location: One foot in the grave, the other in hell.
Title: Reaper

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