It was a crisp autumn night in the city of Busan, the sky a deep grayish and purple haze, the result of high albedo caused by light pollution and intermittent cloud cover. The streets were loud and smelly, the odorous vapors visibly emanating from sewers, storm drains and from the lit ends of the cheap cigarettes that everyone in Korea seemed to enjoy smoking. A mild breeze wafted through the skyscraper city from the Korea Strait, carrying with it memories of sea salt and fog.

From the roof of a decrepit Japanese ramen shop a little over a kilometer away from the Lotte Department store, a two-person sniper team lay in wait, stretched prone over a green tarp while taking turns reaching into a tin of Danish butter cookies.

“Wind adjustment plus 0.6km/h south east. Come right, 2 clicks. ” Garnet T. directed after confirming the change through the combination of an expensive looking optical laser range finder, an anemometer, and what appeared to be a notepad with a chart. He looked like a tourist here in South Korea with his dirty blonde hair, his sneakers, his hoodie and a pair of jeans – he practically screamed it if not for the military-grade binoculars that he held in his hands and the grenade-capable M4A1 Carbine resting closely by his side. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about; I’ve never watched The Room.”

“No waaaay!” Amber K. trailed off in disbelief as she turned the knob twice and adjusted the telescopic scope on her match-grade L115A3 sniper rifle, all without losing situational awareness around the entrance of the department store. Although it wasn’t clearly visible beneath her red and white striped bobble-cap, she had short chestnut brown hair and a cute pixie face. She was wearing a black, woolen jacket, cropped black trousers, and a pair of heavy boots that wanted to kick people in the nads. “How could you have never watched The Room?”

“I don’t know; it’s just one of those things that never happened,” the spotter shrugged disinterestedly. Then, he reached into the tin, pulled out a biscuit and popped it in his mouth before grimacing something awful. Yuck! Raisin - the fruitcake of cookies.

“But The Room’s like, the greatest movie of all time!" his partner exclaimed.

"I think you're the only person who would say that," Garnet scoffed. “From what I’ve heard, it’s a terrible movie.

“Oh it is, it is the absolute worst,” Amber vigorously concurred.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Garnet.

"That's because you’ve never watched The Room," Amber asserted.

As Garnet shook his head in bewilderment, he proclaimed, “I will never understand your taste in movies."

"Nobody ever does," the sharpshooter ruefully sighed.

They passed the next minute in relative silence, considering they were perched on the roof of a ramen shop during dinner hours in a port city. They had each managed to get at least one more cookie from the tin before they noticed some unusual activity on their lens.

“Target’s on the move,” Garnet reported. “He’s exiting Entrance C.”

“I see him,” Amber replied in the affirmative.

From both their sights, they tracked a balding, yet important-looking Asian man in a well-tailored suit who walked out of the department store with a young, gold-digging lady-friend on his arm and a small entourage of bodyguards packed around them.

“Distance 1250. Wind…holding at 20.4km/h south-south east,” Garnet reported after checking his instruments. The anemometer was handy, but even without it, he would have known the wind speed and direction judging by the flightpath of the windsock he had set up earlier. After consulting his chart, he arrived at the firing solution. “Hmm. I’d say…3 clicks right.”

“Pshh, no way, it’s 4,” the sniper disagreed.

“It’s 3,” he reiterated.

“Nuh-uh~!” she trilled.

“50 bucks it’s 3,” Garnet goaded.

“Oh yeah!? Fine!” Amber confidently agreed before twisting the knob 3 clicks and immediately taking the shot.

There was a thunderous boom that followed after she pulled the trigger as a 16.2 gram penetrator round was propelled at 900m/s, raising heads from the passerby’s beneath them as they tried to determine where exactly the lightning had struck. A second later, after the bullet had travelled one and a quarter kilometers away, screams, shock, and alarm consumed the blood-splattered scene of the shopping center.

As the vapor trail from the expended .338 Lapua Magnum round dissipated into the wind, a gradual crescendo of police sirens began to grow in the distance. If Busan were a smaller city, it might have been possible to tell apart the red and blue glare of the first responders apart from the general, bright luminescence of city life, but it wasn’t. It was a city of 3.4 million people and for almost everyone living there, it was business as usual.

“Tango down,” the spotter smugly reported with a smirk. “See? Told you it was 3. Pay up.”

“Aww,” Amber groaned in disappointment. After a brief pause, she sheepishly suggested, “Double or nothing?”

Garnet visibly scowled as he scrutinized his partner and shook his head disapprovingly. “Annd this is why I don’t leave you alone in casinos.”

“Uugh…” Amber griped dejectedly. As she started disassembling her weapon, she muttered to herself, “Man, why didn’t I just miss?”

Hitmen – Contract Killers: Chapter One End

Once upon a time, there lived a rich and handsome prince. He lived in the lap of luxury, surrounded by silk, spices, and vassals who tended to his every need. His name was Prince Adam and he resided in his ancestral home, an ancient and grand castle known locally as La Gueule de Bête.

One day, as he peered out of his balcony, he noticed what appeared to be plumes of smoke rising from brightly colored tents that had seemingly sprung up overnight.

“Cogsworth,” said Prince Adam, “Do you see that uproar yonder? What do you suppose is happening?”

After glancing out the window, his attendant Cogsworth replied, “That, my liege is the Alsace Faire, a great faire that is being held this month by the merchants of Europe.”

“Truly!” Prince Adam remarked. “Then I must go sample these delights!”

And so, the prince departed the castle in his carriage, accompanied by an entourage of knights.

When he arrived at the faire, he was beset by curiosity and desire. To his left was a pair of spice-trading merchants purveying a rare spice, saffron and from them he bought two chests. To his right was a grizzled, Oriental tea peddler and from him he bought two chests. And on and on the prince went, acquiring precious wares until he happened upon a peculiar stall.

It was a simple stall at the edge of the faire, a patch of dirt overlaid with a square, burlap tarp. Occupying the tarp by a portly middle-aged man named Maurice and his very young daughter. Together, they desperately hawked their product to anyone who would listen, grasping tightly in each of their hands what appeared to be a small wagon and a larger, coiled mechanism made of sturdy metal.

“Please! Sir! I beg you, just a minute of your time!” Maurice appealed to the steady stream of disinterested people.

“Just a minute!” his daughter parroted to the tall giants shuffling past her.

But despite their best attempts, no one would stop to listen save the prince who watched them out of curiosity. Eventually, he walked over to the elation of the pair.

As soon as he did, Maurice began extolling the virtues of his invention, the “coiled spring” as he called it, and the benefits of suspension. He claimed it would revolutionize how travellers would traverse throughout the lands while the little girl demonstrated with her tiny model.

Impressed with his creation, the prince offered them his hospitality and invited the man and his daughter to come spend the night at his estate, to which they assented.

By the time the prince and his guests arrived at the castle, the sun had receded towards the horizon, painting the sky a visceral red. Twilight would soon be upon them.

As they entered the castle, they were greeted in the foyer by a host of attendants.

With bowed heads, they all chanted, “Welcome back my lord,” in unison.

The marble floors were freshly waxed, with a grand flight of stairs towards the front that divided into two as the ascended semi-elliptically. The wood bannisters were smoothly polished and the crystal chandelier that hung above shone brightly with its full complement of twenty four candles. Beneath the stairs were two, separate entrances that led to different halls. These halls were lined with oaken hardwood floors and gas light fixtures illuminating every ten feet along the green and red rose-patterned wallpapered wall.

“Prepare dinner for our guests,” the prince ordered as he led the way through the right hallway and into the dining hall.

Dinner was a tremendous affair. The whole castle was abuzz, though none more than the kitchen, where chefs and cooks worked their magic and turned ingredients into a feast. And while the guests waited, they were kept refreshed and entertained by stories the host had heard from his other guests and visitors.

And what a grand feast it was! Spanning over two hours were twelve separate courses, each dish meticulously prepared and served on porcelain plates and delivered on silver platters. There was more flavor and refinement in that single meal than a peasant such as Maurice could expect to experience in his lifetime.

At the conclusion of dinner, the prince stood up and called for his attendant.

“Cogsworth!” he hollered as retainer snapped to attention. “Take the girl to the library and tend to her needs. I must speak with her father.”

“At once sire,” Cogsworth bowed in salute before holding the girl’s hand and leading her out of the hall.

“Don’t worry, she’s in capable hands,” the prince assured Maurice with a friendly smile. “Please, this way. We have much to discuss.”

The library in question was the biggest room in the castle. Bigger than even the dining hall, its many stories were filled with shelves, each filled with many more stories. With her eyes as big as saucers, the girl gasped audibly as she stared in awe at the prince’s collection.

“Tell me, do you like stories?” Cogsworth asked as he helped her onto a couch.

“Yes, very much!” the girl gleefully replied.

“Which story is your favorite?” he asked.

“My favorite?” the girl pondered. “It’s hard to say. I like any story with monsters!”

“Monsters?” Cogsworth remarked. “I don’t like monsters.”

“Why not?” the girl asked.

“Monsters are terrifying! Don’t you find them scary?” he asked back.

“Nooo~!” the girl retorted.

“And why not?” he queried.

“Because monsters aren’t real!” she explained.

“Well, I’ll see what I can find,” the retainer smiled wryly as he stood up and fetched a book.

When he returned, he began reading to the girl and soon, she fell asleep.

When she awoke, she found herself alone in the library, alone that is, with the exception of the prince.

“Are you awake?” he asked on the couch beside her.

“Yes,” she replied groggily. “Where is my father?” she asked as she looked up towards him.

“He’ll be here shortly,” the prince promised as he placed his hand around her shoulders. “Take off your shoes,” he requested as the girl did as she was bid. Using his thumb, he gently and affectionately brushed the back of her shoulder over, and over.

She was such a delicate little thing, she was so small and it wouldn’t take much to hurt her.

“Okay,” she said as she let him pull her close.

“Did you like it here in the castle?” the prince whispered as he spoke mutedly by her ear.

“Yes, very much so,” the girl replied.

“Good,” he said before he kissed the girl on the head. “Stand up,” he asked as she did as she was told.

Then, he surreptitiously untied the girdle laces around her hips.

“Raise your arms,” he said as the girl mindlessly obeyed.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he pulled her clothes up and removed her dress.

“Shh,” he hushed as he threw the dress aside and wrapped her in an embrace and kissed the nape of her neck.

“Where’s my dad?” the girl insisted with greater urgency.

“He’ll be here soon,” he promised again as he reached his hand down beneath her undergarments and began toying with her clitoris.

“Wait! Stop!” shouted the girl as she tried to push him away.

But she couldn’t. Seizing her more tightly, the prince breathed heavily down her neck as he continued to fondle the girl. The girl became more rigid and confused as her body froze. Her mind was in a haze; his fingers felt good and yet, she sensed instinctively that this touching was bad though she didn’t know why.

After a while, her vagina started to get wet. Her face flushed, her pulse quickened and her breathing became shallower. The prince could feel her wetness grow with his fingers, the warmth of her small genitals slowly and unconsciously adjusting to arousal.

It didn’t take long for the prince to strip away her undergarments and with them, the last vestige of her clothes. As she stood naked, naked and confused, the prince stood up, undid his trousers and stepped out of them. Then, with an unmerciful grasp, he forced the girl to the ground and deflowered her with the deepest thrust.

Her scream pierced not only the night but the heavens themselves. At the site of their joined bodies, blood flowed freely from the girl’s torn vagina as he moved freely inside her.

The girl screamed hysterically as her body was split apart repeatedly. She screamed and she screamed but each scream only served to engorge the man who was raping her.

And though her plaintive pleas were heard echoing throughout these ancient halls, ultimately, they fell on deaf ears. Though they could hear her cries, none burst forth to help her. These cries were not the first to ring through La Gueule de Bête and they wouldn’t be the last as none dared to defy their prince. The people who served this house serve so obediently they may as well be furniture.

It didn’t take long before it ended. The rush, the thrill of the excitement served as an irresistible aphrodisiac and Belle was much too tight. So fully and deeply did he ejaculate that his semen spilt forth the instant he uncorked her.

And when he did, she remained collapsed on the floor, crying and bleeding.

Prince Adam left her there in his library as he walked out to get refreshment, his lower body still bloodied and naked.

As he walked out, he passed by Maurice, Cogsworth, and two heavily armed guards. The inventor had crumpled on the floor, crumpled in a heap on the other side of the door, tears streaming from his eyes as he clutched a chest filled with thirty silver francs.

For one night, the prince had purchased her from Maurice and he intended to make full use of her while it lasted.

This would be a long night.

To My Fellow Americans, the Patriots and the Free,

Take heart that when we die tomorrow, that we do not die in vain, but in service of a cause greater than ourselves. That we gave our lives and gave them willingly to replenish and revitalize this Great Nation of the United States.

We have been lied to, all of us, spied on, and unfairly punished for expressing our fundamental right of free speech. Why? Because our words have the power to dispel falsehoods and perhaps the greatest lie perpetuated by our government is the notion that all men are created equal.

They are not.

Some people are born rich, some are born poor. Some are born crippled, or mentally incompetent, or perhaps born with an incurable ailment. Some don't even make it past the first minute because they were born with defective hearts - the list goes on, but it should be sufficient enough to prove that people are not created equal.

And if people are not created equal, why should lives be any different? How could lives possibly be equal? How could the life of a righteous surgeon be worth the same as a unrepentant child-molester? The life of a great scientist be worth the same as a human vegetable? Discard the notion that all life is sacred and answer the question: empirically, how is one human life equivalent to another? How do the scales balance when the weights are different?

The only reasonable conclusion is that human life isn't equal, that some lives are worth more than others. It's obvious; the life of a family member, a lover, a trusted friend, even a beloved family pet; when given the choice between sparing one of those lives against the lives of enemies or complete strangers, would you really flip a coin?

We would not.

We believe that people are not created equal. We believe that some lives are worth more than others, and we believe that an American life is worth infinitely more than a Syrian one, an Iraqi one, or any other life that isn't American. And yet, these lesser lives keep pouring into this country, demanding rights that aren't theirs to demand, these parasites who fled to our country after they had ruined their own, raising the quality of their lives at the expense of ours. Well we say, no more! A line must be drawn and we have drawn it!

This is why we have left this message with you, our fellow Americans, to share, and to assure you that are not alone. It is not wrong to harbor these thoughts, these truths that are publicly denounced even though they should be held self-evident.

We have no doubt that we will be vilified by the powers that be, that we will be painted as monsters, fanatics, and rogues but this is not who we are! We are patriots, and we are taking the only course of action that will redeem us for having tolerated this degeneration for so long.

They say actions speak louder than words and tomorrow, we will put this to the test.

And for those that come after, remember: Heroes may fall but Glory never fades.

It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a sick society.

I was so proud the day I joined the paramedic corps at St. Mary's General Hospital. My childhood dream was to be a doctor, but I didn’t have the money so I became a paramedic instead, you know, to “help save lives”. I remember my first dispatch; we were rolling around in the sardine can when we got the call and got sent to a half-way home somewhere in the Bronx in response to a stabbing. From beginning to end, I never understood a single word the boy gargled to me before he died. And I thought that’d be the worst of it until someone else died, and then another, and another, until I finally graduated from futile attempts at resuscitation to scraping dead people off the tarmac. Why am I here, why would anyone want to make $5 more than minimum wage and watch people die for a living?

"Kill him. Kill him! You've gotta kill him, gotta kill him, you've gotta kill him or he'll kill you!"

"No he won't, shut up, he won't!"

"Look at him! Look, look, look! See? Did you see!? Did you see the tendril sliding out of his mouth!?"

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

"He's a monster! He's one of THEM!"

"He's not!"

"He is! Kill him! Kill him now!"

"SHUT UP!"

"Look, LOOK, the girl! Did y0u see!? She's 0ne 0f them! They're 3very wh3r3!"

"I just need to go home, I just need to go home, get my meds, take my meds, and I'll be fine."

"Hah4! F1N3!? n0th1ng i5 f1n3! U d0n't n33d n0 p1LL5, u n3d 2 p1ck uP th15 5t1cK @nD k1LL th3M @LL!"

"It's not real, it's all in my head. It's not real, it's not real!"

"Stay strong buddy! Don't listen to that guy, he's just trying to trick you."

"W-who are you?"

"Haha, did you seriously forget? It's me silly, ME! Your friend!"

"My friend?"

"Yeah! And I'm here to help you!"

"Help? Who? How?"

"It's medicine!"

"Medicine?"

"The girl! Medicine girl! Eat the girl and you'll be saved!"

"Eat...girl?"

"Girl! Girls are made of the yummiest candy!"

"?"

"Rawr tee-hee!"

"??? Hee-hee!"

NOM NOM NOM

X-221 is attempting to connect to server.

>Attempting to connect. Failed.

>Attempting to connect. Failed.

>Attempting to connect. Failed.

Unable to connect.