“People die Mr. Karahan, it is how it was even centuries ago,” said the tall thin man, cleaning his glasses with an expensize suede handkerchief. “But they die for a good reason. They die for the better of the whole humanity, for the sake of genetic and cultural evolu-“
“Shut the fuck up Calcowski.” said Bruce Karahan coolly interrupting the older scientist. “All your words of death and evolution make me sick.” he said sitting on his dark shiny leather chair, behind the black marble desk stricken with white veins. His reaction unsettled Calcowski who was Karahan’s senior by a couple of decades. He cleared his throat and tried to continue but was cut short by Karahan’s hand. Karahan signaled him to be quiet, and then pondering for a little moment, he dismissed the scientist with a simple wave of his hand.
The scientist obeyed his order and left bowing slightly. “I smell your anger from here you leech!” thought Karahan to himself, as the Nobel winner scientist left the room. After the door was closed, Karahan pressed a button and told his secretary to annull all his later appointments. He stood up, took off his jacket and went to the bar that would cost a fortune, to fill a glass with straight jack. As he picked up the bottle, all hell broke loose.
He heard his secretary scream for her life as the door burst open. He instinctively ducked for his bulletproof marble desk, but a random bullet found his claf and pierced it, going through flesh and muscle. He pushed a few buttons under the desk, calling for secuirty teams. The desk would hold bullets but he hoped that the bastards would not use a grenade. While his thoughts were racing, the room was sprayed with bullets, as sculptures, busts and tile flew around. Karahan took out his gun and waited for the security teams to arrive. then all settled down. He only heard his own breathing and his heart hammering in his chest, and footsteps walking over the broken shards of sculptures and breaking them into nothingness. He held his breath and jumped out of his cover, firing. His first bullet found the arm of a terrorist who dropped his machinegun howling. His second bullet flew past another tango’s head, piercing his most favorite Monet. He landed down on the floor as his third bullet hit home, a headshot. Two terrorist were down and there were two more. one was reloading but the other one was more experienced as he dropped his Mac-10 and pulled out a handgun. This gave Karahan a few more instants to aim and shoot. He spit out his remaining bullets to the wiser tango, and shot the assailiant in three different spots. He fell down shaking. No…it fell down shaking. As Karahan saw the terrorist’s face for the first time, the fact that they had blue skin struck him badly. Then something else struck him. The other..thing let out a volley of burst fires, hitting Karahan almost a dozen times. Karahan fell down on his knees, denying in his face. Blood washed his clothes as betrayal hit his heart. “Where is the damned sec teams?” He fell face down and his body shook for one last time as his last breath left the dying body.
———–+————-
“-Mission accomplished sir. Target down, 3 casualties.”
“-Very well, you can now signal the security teams about the incident. I want the remaining witness dead.”
“-As you wish sir. Do you want me to start the funeral process?”
“-No not yet…i am planning something special for our dear leader Mr. Karahan.”
“-As you wish sir, anything else?”
“-Yes, tell Ms. Angelic to prepare a speech for the press and this shall be all.”
The balding man smiled as he terminated the connection, and started to think about a better future for the humanity…where he shall be the king and god.