10 MINUTES AFTER the last round of shell crashed off sending series of nameless bullets flying out, falling, rolling, far off his feet
He felt his soul leave his body.
His dark eyes picked on the dimly-lit hallway and he could count over a hundred bodies trapped, pinned to the floor, blood surging off wounds, limbs torn apart. Littering the floor were fragments off shattered glasses, rocking shoulders with the reddish pool that soaked bodies lifeless bodies.
The smell of dead men ate deeper than cancer. He felt revenge on his lips, it was a long pursuit that ended up sore.
He twitched rapidly, not in full realization of what he had done as his lazy eyes crawled a bit more, in search of a sign that would bruise dust off his dead conscience. That's wasn't him in that light of redemption, He picked a sign of a slight tender body struggle and he shot as he lifted his gaze.
He Grabbed his long rifle, pushed it behind, pulled off his gloves and stow it right in his left pocket.
He moved backwards until his back was against the door, then he kicked at it and the moon's revealing ray washed off him. He felt damned.
He ripped his mask off his face, tucked his burner slightly under his coat and moved for his car, got behind the wheels and grunted in pain as his body crushed against the seat.
He had a whole lot to think about in the coming days, his life had fallen, he had hit rock bottom and the only thing keeping him alive was this, the only thing that made sense.
He was going to take down the whole country if that was what it took to get justification
His phone buzzed and he stretched for it, grazed his hair after he had smacked his engine to life.
"Done!" He muttered.
"Not yet Kent" the voice came off, soft.
"You have two more rounds to go, and this...it's for me." the line went dead.
His eyes snapped shut as his face folded into a distinct frown and he exhaled at a pace slower than a snail's crawl, knowing what he had gotten into.
©Godwin Okhuoya Temitope (ttopofficial)