money taken out of someone’s pockets and their head on a stake to set an example. But some of these men care more about their own lives, even if it means they’re walking around with a hit on their head. Just as Jay said, three men stand guard in front of me, completely unaware of my presence. Stupid fucks. I'll never understand how people can’t sense danger when it’s right up their assholes. Shit boggles me. In one quick succession, | take out all three men. Their bodies drop, and a few of the girls jump. Some cry and hunker down, while others stay deathly silent. A normal reaction for a little girl would be to scream, but these girls have already been desensitized to murder. The five men in the pit of girls turn their heads in tandem, their faces morphing from surprise to alarm to anger in a matter of seconds. Immediately, they scramble for their guns. My body is still concealed by the wall I’m hiding behind. Two of them open fire, forcing me to back away. One bullet skids across the corner of the wall, right past my face. Chunks of concrete fly into my eyes as more bullets ping around me. I grunt, rubbing at my lids to clear my vision. Right as I ready up again, one guy comes barreling around the corner. He’s dead before he even spots me, a nice little hole right between his brows. He was an ugly motherfucker anyway. World will do just fine without him. Before his body can topple over, I grip him by the collar of his shirt and bring him in close. Wincing at the bad breath emanating from the rotting hole in his face, I step out of the hallway, using the dead man as a shield against the flying bullets still hurdling my way. The dead body takes a few hits while I fire off two single shots. Two more bodies go down, and I step back inside the hallway, pushing away the bloodied man who’s now riddled with bullets. His head smacks off the concrete floor with a sickening thud. I used his body as a shield for five seconds, but I still got lucky. It’s not like the movies. Bullets can easily fly through bodies. Entry and exit point. Just to enter right back into my body. I don’t use other people for shields unless I have to, and it’s only for a few seconds at a time. A chorus of noises arise in the warehouse in the form of terrified screams from the girls, shouts of panic from the men, orders to “kill the puta,” and yells of outrage for the girls to stop crying.