Another one bites the dust

After witnessing the gruesome spectacle of a person's head exploding like a grotesque balloon, a thick blanket of shock and horror settled over the room. Most people stood frozen, their bodies locked in place by fear so palpable it seemed to anchor them to the ground. Not a single person dared to run or even twitch. The sheer terror had etched itself deeply into their beings, leaving them visibly scarred.

Amidst this pervasive fear, however, I stood apart. I felt no fear, only a dark, compelling urge—an insatiable craving for the power this shadowy figure wielded. Despite barely a minute passing since the brutal display of power, I found my voice.

The figure floated eerily around the room, its gaze scanning the petrified faces of the assembled group. When its eyes settled on me, I felt a strange mix of apprehension and determination. In that moment, it wasn't fear or hatred that the figure perceived in my eyes, but something altogether different—envy tinged with hope, a hunger for power that burned fiercely within.

Without hesitation, I spoke up. "I'll be frank with you. I don't care if you're some devil or a god of evil. What matters is that you have power, and I want it. I'll make it worth your while if you listen to what I have to offer."

I had never been a salesman, never negotiated for anything so monumental, but I knew deep down that this was my moment.

"Listen," I continued, my voice steady despite the chaos around me, "grant me that power. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll even offer you my soul, if that's what you desire."

Just as I finished speaking, a woman started to voice her objections. "Excuse me—"

Before she could finish her sentence, her head exploded in a macabre display of crimson and bone. The shadowy figure's voice cut through the air, chillingly calm.

"Another one bites the dust," it remarked, its tone dripping with menace and authority.