Azazel by Nameless Page A

and other objects but I was at my destination.

    Wearing nothing but my rag red t-shirt, black torn bottoms and
scraggy black boots I blended in well with the poorer side of
Honduras. My hair jet black it was quite long, coming past my eyes.
I was also the skinniest thing you would have ever met too even
though I ate like a pig.
    Booting my way out of the Fiat Punto’s side door, black
shotgun in hand I looked around grabbing my bearings as I saw
several bullets heading in my direction, dodging them with ease. I
said I was fast, fast enough to dodge bullets, fast enough to see
them too.
    Adrenaline pumping around my body was like a super wonder drug
for me, it changed me. Some thug laid out on the floor crawling
away in his white tank top and jeans I pointed my shotgun at him as
he looked at me with fear. He was no older than twenty and with a
sickening smile I pulled the trigger and blew the motherfuckers
head off. I knew him. Child rapist and drug seller, he got what he
deserved, now to deal with the other collection of pricks that
continued to fire at me like confetti going off, bullets
ricocheting everywhere.

    Two dead there was roughly twelve more of the gang left but
only eleven were in my sights. Ten rounds left in my shotgun was
near enough to deal with the rest of the gang and for such close
range combat it was perfect for the job. With speed comparable to
something like a vampire I sped around the back of the wrecked shop
blasting everything I saw. Dead, dead, dead, dead. Four more
dropped to the blood soaked wood floor.
    With nearly half their gang blown to bits within mere seconds
the rest scampered behind torn apart cupboards, wardrobes, boxes
and other objects leaving me slap bang in the middle of the torn
apart room. The car had come screeching through the south wall
obliterating it and the round table the gang were all sat at.
Cocaine lay everywhere as it must have been on the table, as did
money, it was splattered around more than the blood.
    “ All you assholes are going to die here! I am the demon of
Honduras and I’ve come for your blood. I’ve come to reap your
souls!” I screamed out aloud before catching sight of two more gang
members hidden behind a stack of crisp boxes, what a bunch of
idiots.
    Shotgun pointed in that direction I let loose another round
ripping the boxes apart and the two men behind them as more bullets
whizzed by my head. Six down and five left with still one missing,
Intel suggested there was twelve at the meeting and if anything my
source of Intel was never wrong.
    Putting away my trusted shotgun into its back slot I had had
enough. Sure enough it could end every life within the back of the
shop but it would be too slow. Pulling out the other two companions
I aimed in the direction of the other gang members and second by
second I pulled the triggers, bullets piercing clean through the
array of objects they were hiding behind and puncturing their
fleshy meat bag bodies.
    More than a minute passed by until the back of the shop went
quite, not another bullet to be shot. I had eliminated the gang of
drug dealers and human traffickers. Quite proud with myself that I
had rid the streets of Honduras of more scum I began to exit the
wrecked shop from where I had crashed through. Trying my best to
squeeze through a small gap in-between the Fiat Punto and the stone
wall my clothing got caught on what could only be described as some
scythe like object and that was when number twelve appeared, the
worse out of the gang. How could I have even forgot that there was
still one man remaining, it was like my mind had begun to wonder, a
thick haze corrupting it.
    Adi he was called, he was one of the worst thugs to ever come
to power within Honduras, and he was my main target. Causing the
death of hundreds upon hundreds and selling more kids and drugs
than anyone could count he was a true devil. Only in his early
twenties Adi had everything, money, power, women, cars and drugs.
Hard to track down