The bouncer, a large, burly man, barely even gave Azail a second look. He didn't look like the trouble-making type.
Azail walked into the center of the club. It was, as he knew it would be, packed to capacity. He lithely dodged and weaved through the crowds to the center of the dance floor, and waited. For the men in blue to come for him.
He knew they would think twice before firing through a crowd like this. And he knew he wouldn't. Didn't have to.
The policemen started to arrive. As soon as he was sure they had all entered (he wouldn't want any of them getting away), he pulled out the pistol and opened fire. One shot. Through the crowd just as they aligned to give him a clear sight of the first policeman's head, his aim dead-on.
The other police saw their fellow fall, his head a bloody ruined mess, but they couldn't hear the shot; all they could see was the dead man fall. The crowd wasn't even panicking yet - no one had heard the silenced gunshot over the club's music... They looked all around, but couldn't see where the shot had come from, or the strange man in red they had come for.
They caught a fleeting glimpse of red, through the crowd... and another of them died. They shouted and tried to disperse the crowd, but all they managed to do was send them into frantic panicking. And a third and a fourth shot came out, and another died and another was wounded in the leg and they STILL couldn't see the man in red through the crowds...
Considering the situation, none of them had the presence of mind to notice that none of the clubgoers had been hit yet, or to consider the implications of that fact.
Azail slaughtered them one by one, and it was like to them they were struck down by Jove's thunderbolts or something. An unseeable, implacable enemy that couldn't be fought back against.
The last cop died seeing his killer... the crowds had finally parted enough for him to get a clear shot, and the man in red was still turned, his side to him, having just shot his partner. The cop levelled his gun to fire, and
Azail saw him out of the corner of his eye, whirled and fired with a speed that nothing like human - faster than his victim could pull the trigger and fire at a target he had already had in his sights..
Azail sat down at the bar and watched as everyone fled the building. As soon as he was satisfied that he was for the moment safe, he pulled out Kaylee's Trump.
| Saturday, November 15, 1997 |
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