Page 28 of War Games

The brothers stand on either side of the road, and I watch from above, situated on the roof. The Texan Reaper is leaning against a storefront, cigarette in hand, as he tries to appear inconspicuous. He watches his brother from the corner of his eye before flicking his gaze back to a takeout store, intently watching the door.

His brother takes up residence in a bus shelter, leaning back on the bench with his foot propped on his knee. He scrolls through his phone, his attention anywhere but the store that houses his current victim, making it clear which of the brothers is in charge.

The Boneyard Slayer is nothing but muscle for his brother’s benefit, and from the look of it, he probably took a few too many hits to the head as a kid. However, it begs the question, who the fuck is currently purchasing takeout?

A few minutes pass before the door opens and a scrawny surfer-looking guy steps out with his food in hand, and I let out a sigh. Sharkbait. I didn’t have high hopes for this guy, and quite frankly, this is going to be a simple, quick kill.

From what little information I’ve been able to find, the guy received his name from killing his victims and dumping their bodies into shark-infested waters in an attempt to destroy the evidence. Naturally, it didn’t work. Only an idiot would think that was a flawless plan. I mean, sure, I’ve left bodies to be eaten before. There’s nothing better than natural selection playing out right before your eyes, but if you’re going to take calculated risks, you need to make sure they’ll pay off. Areas with an over-population of hungry foxes or wolves is generally a foolproof plan, and you better make sure it’s a fresh kill. But a cold dead body floating in the ocean? Fuck no. Sure, a shark might take a nibble, but when he realizes it’s not a tasty seal, he’ll abandon it and leave it floating in the ocean to inevitably wash up on shore.

I consider walking away, not particularly interested in spending my night watching the brothers make their kill, but despite my boredom, I stay, finding myself curious about their hunting style. I’ve never been one to work with others. I don’t like coordination, and I sure as hell don’t like sharing my plans. As a general rule, I don’t play well with others, but their dynamic intrigues me, and when it comes to the time for me to take their lives, I want to know exactly what I’m in for.

The second Sharkbait fully steps out of the store, he turns to his right and walks directly toward the brothers. Fucking idiot. Does he not sense them there? Get chills down his spine when he realizes he’s in imminent danger? Where are his basic survival instincts?

He starts unwrapping a burger and takes a hasty bite as though he hasn’t eaten in days before crossing the road right in front of the bus shelter. Though to his credit, The Boneyard Slayer is still so buried in his phone that he doesn’t even realize his target is right in front of him. The Texan Reaper on the other hand is watching it all with a keen eye while glaring at his brother to get his shit together.

Sharkbait steps up onto the walkway, just past the bus shelter, and continues on his way, his every brain cell fully focused on the burger in his hand. I realize this guy thinks he’s going to sail right through to the end by simply hiding out. He hasn’t got a damn clue that he’s a weak player, and that right there is one hell of a fatal mistake.

Fuck. These games are really starting to bore me. Why include so many incompetent players? I thought I was coming here to play with the best of the best. Shadow and Siren are obviously excluded from that. So far, they’re the only two who have been able to show just a shred of promise, and the only two I’m going to struggle to end, while everyone else is nothing but fodder to be played with.

With their target beginning to put distance between them, The Texan Reaper pushes off the wall and stalks Sharkbait down the street, and I follow them along the roof, simply stepping from one rooftop to the next. It’s not long before The Boneyard Slayer finally glances up to realize he missed his shot and hastily shoves his phone in his pocket and begins rushing to catch up. Only the sound of his rushed feet on the pavement has Sharkbait stiffening.

I roll my eyes. It’s about time the fucker realized he was in trouble.

His burger is lowered from his mouth, and he glances over his shoulder to see The Boneyard Slayer hurrying after him, and to be honest, it’s not a pretty sight. The Boneyard Slayer looks like an overweight ex-football player who’s trying to play with his kids, but the fitness just isn’t there anymore, and even from my vantage point on the roof, I can hear his heavy panting.

Sharkbait’s eyes widen in horror, and it’s clear he had no idea how easy he was to track. He pauses for just a second, and as he frantically looks around to make a game plan, he finally notices The Texan Reaper across the road.

My brow arches, waiting to see what will happen, but more importantly, needing to learn their style. Sharkbait all but shits his pants, and as The Texan Reaper steps off the sidewalk with the intent to cross the road, Sharkbait takes off, sprinting down a back alley.

I skip across to the next roof, giving myself a better viewpoint, and as Sharkbait bolts down the alley, the brothers follow closely. I shake my head. I should have known Sharkbait would be foolish. He doesn’t strike me as the type to have basic survival instincts.

The alley he chose is a dead end, and all he’s managed to do is back himself into a corner. Knowing your surroundings is the first rule of the business. You always need an escape plan. Every time you step out of the house, you need to know where you are at all times and how to disappear—especially in a town where the cops are aware of War Games. Hell, over the past week, Blue Springs managed to bring in some cops from the next city over and a few FBI agents as backup, not that it’ll be an issue for me or any of the other top killers in these games. While the FBI certainly are good at what they do, we’re better.

As for Sharkbait, he seems like the type to make colossal mistakes and have his ass hauled away in cuffs. Though considering tonight’s latest mistake, he won’t ever see the light of day again.

The brothers slow their advance, allowing Sharkbait more than enough time to work himself into a cold sweat, and though it’s a little late, it looks like those basic survival instincts have finally kicked in.

The brothers stalk him like prey, creeping deeper into the alley, and as I watch them, my earlier thoughts are confirmed once again. The Texan Reaper is the one calling the shots. His brother follows his lead and waits to be told what to do. I can’t help but wonder why. Is The Boneyard Slayer not capable ofcalling the shots? Does he not have the brains to pull off a kill by himself? Though one thing is for sure, despite this being a team effort, something tells me that The Texan Reaper is the one who’s going to walk away with Sharkbait’s identity tonight.

Sharkbait makes a move, realizing he still holds his burger in his hand, and in a split-second decision, launches it at The Texan Reaper’s face. Both of the brothers are caught off guard and Sharkbait uses the distraction to make his move, sprinting as fast as he can between them.

The Texan Reaper roars in frustration as the burger lingers on his face, and as Sharkbait tries to make a run for it, The Boneyard Slayer’s hand whips out, clutching Sharkbait by the back of his man bun.

He hauls him back and throws him hard against the brick wall of the alley. I can practically hear his skull crack with the force of the throw, but he barely gets a chance to cry out as the brothers launch their brutal attack on him, letting out every bit of their anger.

It’s disgusting. I don’t like brutal kills like this.

Taking a life is supposed to be poetic. There’s supposed to be an art to it, but this is just messy. It’s anger and revulsion, brute strength against a man who had no hope of defending himself. I don’t like it; there’s no honor or compassion here, but it’s not my problem to deal with right now. I’ll make it right when I end their lives.

With disgust pulsing heavily through my veins, I don’t bother to watch the end of their brutal kill, but as I turn to go, something in the darkness catches my attention.

Shadow.

Only she’s not watching the brothers make their kill, she’s watching me.

“HEY!” I call out, and in a split second, she’s gone.

Fuck.

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