We make do without a title

[Sol]

Darkness encroached upon a wooden door. Behind it could be heard music, merry laughs and chatter of a crowd of men and women.

With a kick to the door the scene swung open. A hail of fire, drops of metal, faster than the bangs they sprung out from. They beat upon concrete, pierce through plastic, wood and flesh. They crack walls and bones open.

A splatter of bright red follows. Then screams of pain and terror.

A woman lies on the floor, her purple dress dirtied with the color of her attractive lips. Linda... she's dead. Like the nameless many all around her.

"Why?" a man asks, coughing, trying to keep his chest wound from pouring out... "Who are you? Why have you... done... THIS?!" he still can't believe he's about to die. A shock in his eyes, the dark of his pupils so wide. He, very soon too, draws his last breath.

Beasley simply walks on. Towards a man who was unfazed among the chaos. A man who sits still as a statue of a solemn king on a dark and comfortable throne. All light gathered on him, he reflects divinity and power. With a satisfied and deep breath, he savors the air in his lungs, then takes his last sip of whiskey from a delicate glass.

"I understand..." Victor starts, his calm demeanor in rebellion to the scene he was subjected to "I have made many enemies in this long life," his voice clear and proud, unexpected from his old age, "but tell me... at least, before I die... Who paid you for it?"

The shadow shakes and jerks around Victor as his adversary shrugs.

Beasley had practiced this in his mind oh-so-many-times. He declares, victoriously and ceremonially, "Nobody pays anymore,". A brief pause for dramatic effect. He shoots the guy dead. The void takes over. Fin.

--

Victor palmed his face, "Wow man, this was cheesy as hell,".

Running from a warm feeling of a homely atmosphere that quickly overwhelmed the scene, the void dissipated quickly.

Beasley stuttered where he stood, "Y-you, whot mate? It was cool, come on!"

Linda sat up and sighed, brushed her delicate hand on to the red spots of her favorite dress, wondering the best way to get this juice off it. "No, Beasley, it sucked, really... It was just terrible..."