Necro Monkey

The blood stained trigger finger slowly pulls back with even pressure against the metal. The hammer slams forward and strikes the silver bullet, igniting the primer inside. The explosion of gunpowder expels the round from the barrel and sends it on a path to its target. The round makes contact less than a second later. It rips into the flesh and shatters the ribs that are in the way as it passes into the heart. Silver residue enters the blood, poisoning the werewolf, and ends its ability to regenerate. The bullet continues past the heart and explodes out the creature’s back.

He thumbed through the card catalogue to double check the book’s location. He noted the book’s identifier before he started through the thousands of feet of library to return the bundle of books he had already read. He loved spending his time in the ancient library.

The human race had long been wiped out when his people came to the Earth. Humans had been a primitive race and most of his kind wouldn’t be bothered giving them a thought.

He was different from the others. He enjoyed their stories. He particularly found pleasure reading the works of the writer, Michael Schultz.

The guy before him did nothing to him, but this guy did something to someone. He didn’t care. He didn’t ask many questions and only had few rules he lived by.

He appeared behind the guy without being noticed. No one ever took notice of him; some not even after it was too late. His blade entered the guy’s back and pierced his heart with the skill of a surgeon. The guy was dead before he could understand what had happened.

Walking away, he was already working out the next job in his head. He enjoyed his work. He was Assassin.

Isolation imposed by the dictatorial rule of the country has kept it naïve to its horrible existence.  Few know the truth like those that see over the fence as they guard the border.  They guard not to keep people out, but to keep citizens from leaving. 

Park and Pang, two guards, face each other and not the border.  Policy dictates this rule to make sure one does not desert.  Park has decided to try for a better life, but knows Pang would never go with him.  He rests his hand on his gun.  One way of another, Park will be free.

It was high noon and Tom glanced at the man twenty paces in front of him.  He still didn’t understand why he was dragged out of his store to duel, but a challenge was made and Tom believed he had to accept.  Tom also believed he was the worst shot in town, but maybe he would get lucky; besides the other guy was obviously very drunk. 

“You stole my horse,” slurred the man.

“What horse?”  Tom was still confused.

 “Draw!”

Both men drew their guns and two shots rang out. 

Tom walked about into the general store.  He had customers waiting.