Fiction: Group 4
***
10:30pm, Tuesday, 25
th
January.
I stood behind large garden of trees just in front of the factory, my eyes scanning the tall building, the large
chimneys spewed out smoke into the air, covering the moon with its dark shade. I actually took a large
whiff by accident, and on impulse I had covered my mouth with my hand, letting out a song of coughs.
I had to be quiet or else the two guards standing at the gate would have shot me. Their backs straight, eyes
narrowed, their faces were beyond emotionless. Like robots, they seemed very much on guard. Hah, lucky
for me this isn’t the first time that I had dealt with guards like these before.
I couldn’t help but smirk at my own cockiness. I had reached into a small pouch that hung on the side of
my belt, fingers curling around three small pellets. I titled my body to the side, peering over to the guards.
Taking in a deep breath I swung my right arm back then yanked it forward, letting the pellets go.
The pellets had landed against the wall, just on top of the guards’ head’s; a bombardment of sparks emitting
from each single pellet. Just in a mere second the two guards immediately spun around and scanned the
area, unblinking.
I had used the opportunity to dart out from the corner of the large tree. Making quick steps to the two
guards I had reached my hands into the back of my trousers, pulling out two thirteen-millimeter caliber
revolvers out of their holsters. Kicking myself forward to increase my speed. I crossed my arms over each
other, pulling the triggers.
The bullets had made their way right through their heads. Blood spurting out from their craniums like a
water fountain on a spring day. They had collapsed to the ground, puddles of wine-red blood forming upon
the ground. Spinning the two calibers in my palms, I tucked the lethal weapons back into their holsters.
Stepping forward I kneeled down against the ground, right next to one of the guards. Reaching my hand
around his belt I had pulled out a key card. “Lucky me.” I said, a smirk drawn across my lips.
Taking a step to the front door, I dragged the card across the scanner, the factory doors launching a large
gust of wind as it opened.
Peeking my head through the door, I scanned the area, shoving the keycard into my back pocket of my
trousers.
It was hot inside, the lights were dim and the entire place was just metal. The smell of chemical fumes filled
my nostrils, I cringed, gritting my teeth and shutting an eye. “This place is disgusting,” I said to myself,
walking into the factory.
But of course, nothing goes well for the one telling the story does it?
I had felt the metal surface of a rifle bump against my head. “State your business here, foreigner.”
It was hard, trying not to make any sudden movements so that I wouldn’t have my brains blasted out by a
semi-automatic, but it was hard not to.
My instincts had kicked in to where I had dropped myself to the ground and slammed my palms against the
floor, pushing my lower body upwards. My feet making impact with mid air flipping myself backwards, the
balls of my feet landing on the ground, the sound of footsteps ran in my ears. The guard behind me had
moved himself away from my little trick.
Click.
The sound of the safety of a semi-automatic clicking off rang in my ears. I had made a quick turn of
my body.
BANG.