Chapter two.

I take a sigh of pleasure as smoke exhales from my mouth, the nicotine calming my nerves. "Y know, I never really wanted to be in this slave business, I mean I thought we finished this shit in the 1800s for fucks sake. I really really didn't want to do this, but I'll be honest, the pay fucking great. 500 scrap a person, doubled for a kid? I'm a rich man! And I gotta, my girl's disease is spreading, and whatever left of the medicines friggin fraggin expensive. So so expensive. I just want my sweet little princess walking again, she can't even smile without being doped on meds, SMILE! I scream, taking a puff to calm myself down. "But" I continue "That doesn't matter does it now? Not to people like you." I finish with a snarl, turning to my killer. "It doesn't fucking matter that my baby will be fatherless and left to die now fucking does it?

"Does it matter about all the girls you're shipping off? Destined as cumsluts? The slaves you and others use for "fun?" They are what to you? Hm?" My killer answers my question with his own, the same anguish and anger baked into his words. We both take a puff, a brief silence masking the tension brewing. "They were weak-willed enough to be taken as a slave, after all-" I wave around us, "This is survival of the strongest." "Then you weren't strong enough then" My killer replies, eating the brief distance between us in seconds. Only then did I feel the cold barrel of a 1911 in my gut. "I was paid extra to make every one of you suffer, just business, right?"

BANG BANG BANG

The three bullets tear into the slaver's side as he screams into my hand, tears running down his cheeks, from the sheer agony or from never seeing his daughter again, I'll never know. Every shot went higher and higher, with the first shot likely hitting his diaphragm, the second bullet tearing into his intestines and the last hitting his ribs, puncturing a lung. He stumbles into the wall behind him, slowly falling to the floor. I grab my phone and record him as he coughs up blood and slowly drowns in it, letting the camera roll for a minute before putting a bullet between his eyes. Blood splats on my face and the familiar taste of blood pleasures my tastebuds.

"Few bullets left" I remind myself. "Distim please loot him before sucking him dry will you" I speak to the open air, the black substance in my right arm's veins squirming in understanding. Without further notice Distim or Dizzy as I like to call him tears itself free from my veins, thick black lines crawling over the dead body and rummaging around before I feel the weight of a 9mm Glock and two magazines in my holster and pocket. I

switch my 1911 with the Glock, the gun a little large for my hands, but it'll work. I walk deeper into the school, pausing as the gait of four pairs of feet fills my ears. I ghost towards the end of the hallway and take a peek, four men snickering as the ringleader in the front holds a middle-aged woman by the hair.

"Please stop, please stop, please stop" The woman repeats like a broken record, bruises, and a black eye showing the abuse she's forced through. "Distim get ready to rip locker doors off their hinges and use them to cover my vitals, take as much fuel as you need" I snarl, gripping my Glock so hard my knuckles turn white in pure rage. Black, slimy tentacles quietly slide from my back and find a locker door, waiting for my signal.

"3"

*"GET OFF OF ME!"

"2"

*"Hold him still, I call first turn"

"1"

"NOW"

My growl turns inhuman as I dash towards the slavers, time slowing down as I put the Glock's sight to the closet slaver's head, pulling the trigger with calculated abandon.

BANG BANG

The bullets bury themselves in the slaver's eye, his screams of pain echoing through the hallway as I get closer and closer. The other three turn around and fire wildly in my direction, the bullets lodging themselves in the metal locker doors protecting me. Dizzy throws the doors in retaliation, almost impaling one of them as they hit the ground. With the rain of bullets momentarily halted, I finally close the distance of my soon to be victims. Unsheathing my blade

and plunging it into the closest slaver's chest, I sidestep a would be rifle butt to the face, and jump onto the back of the third slaver, one hand cutting his airflow as I put my pistol to his spine, the 9mm ripping into his body. I fall with his limp body, rolling at the last second to keep my momentum.

Not even bothering to face the last slaver I aim and fire, emptying the magazine into him, a feral smile across my lips as I hear his body hit the ground. I press the slide release and the empty mag falls out, slamming another one home as I lock eyes with the slaver so gentlemanly holds my knife with his chest. I don't break eye contact with the dying man as I pull my blade out, watching his life slowly fade from his eyes before putting a bullet in his brain. Barely audible whimpering reminds me of the real victim at hand as I lock eyes with the broken lady.

I take a coat from a dead slaver's body and drape it around her, hugging her as I whisper sweet nothings into her ear. "Where are you all being kept?" I ask, giving as much time as she needs to formulate an answer. "Cages... Gymnasium, one floor down." She replies, shivering as an unexplainable breeze flows by. "Thank you, the exit is just down the hall behind me, wait there and I'll bring the others." I thank her, holstering my Glock in exchange for an M4 carbine, putting the three extra magazines in my pocket. I'm stopped by her grabbing my coat, her broken soul stabbing into mine. "Kill.. kill them all for me… for us"

A crazed smile overtakes me, "I'll do you one better, I'll make them all suffer before they die"

*These are flashbacks