THE FIRST KILL
by varon, age 17
varon_

"YOU'LL GET used to it."

A large hand ruffled my hair in a supposedly-comforting, affectionate gesture, but his words did nothing to alleviate my shock, my guilt, my remorse at what I had just done. his words, instead, chilled me to the bone.

"You'll get used to it?" Was that the best he could offer?

His footsteps sounded a hollow, distant echo as he strode purposefully away. A long shadow passed over me as the other man I came to know as Persia stepped in front of the dimly-lighted corridor, a long, ominous figure looming over me. I heard his heels click crisply on the smooth tiled floor -- which was also rather cold, I found out the moment my bare knees came in contact with it.

My hand went limp, my arm dangling loosely at my side; the weapon -- a .38 caliber, was it? -- fell with a resounding clang. My eyes were glassy, I noted as I saw my reflection on the polished tiles, mirroring the emptiness that burned in my soul.

What had I just done?

Run.

It was not an order said as quietly as possible when the target started running away. The hunt had began, and it was simply common sense to chase after the prey.

My target was a hitman, wanted for a massacre of a family of four, or so my trainor Persia said. Tomoe Hiko had been at large for a few months until undercover police captured him. Hiko escaped, somehow, and my trainor's secret group let him in -- without Hiko knowing that he was about to become a practice target for a first-time assassin.

A first time, underage assasin, at that.

Cock the gun.

The deal was simple: all I was to do was to corner Hiko in a room in this maze of an abandoned warehouse, back him up to a wall, then shoot him in between his eyebrows. I was to do that with both my eyes open -- to see blood gush out from his forehead, to watch his mouth hang open, to witness the haunted, lost look in his eyes as the life is slowly drained out of him.

I had been training under Persia for over a year now -- how to dodge attacks, how to block punches and kicks, how to remain as inconscpicuous as possible when following somebody, how to handle certain kinds of ammunition. I personally developed my skill for hacking programs and developing software, and Persia encouraged it, saying it might be of use in the future. I am conscious of his desire to expel Takatori Reiji from office. I am fully aware of the consequences if the tyrant of a leader is not overthrown by a violent revolution. And most importantly, I am not ignorant of the real reason why I am here, why the heck I'm doing this...

Why I've decided to join him in his cause, sacrificing my youth by plunging into the dark ways of crime to make the good rise up from the evil that governs the world.

A nagging thought persists that I am just a puppet, and nothing else, but I quickly brush it off.

I know that this is for my country's good -- and my own.

Raise the gun, shoulder level.

I had successfully led Hiko into the trap. And I know what would come next, what should be done to complete this session.

Ah, yes -- a practice session. A quiz, if this whole secret organization were a class. Secret eyes were all over this room, I knew. Waiting for me to make my move, to finish wanted murderer Tomoe Hiko off, so my teachers could give me a good grade.

Pull the trigger.

It should have been easy. I had been through this a number of times, practicing the route I was to take and rehearsing the steps I would have made.

Squeeze it.

But the distinction between reality and thoery was enormous. All the drills didn't measure up to the experience of coming face-to-face with the real target, about to take his life...

I was about to become a cold-blooded murderer, too... No different from him.

Throwing my innocence, my morals, my future away -- all that depnded on whether I could go through this or not.

So, could I?

Squeeze it, now.

Split-second dilemmas ruin everything. My hand faltered, betraying my uncertainty. For the fraction of an inch I lowered my hand, praying he wouldn't notice. In a darkened room, with almost zip source of light, who would?

But Tomoe Hiko did.

And he had snickered.

My arm had sharply returned to its original position, my pride wounded at his laugh.

"So you've been sent to kill me?" In the dimness I had seen Hiko smirk. His bloodhsot eyes were narrowed, his tall frame leaning almost casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. I tried to keep an impassive facade as he continued, "You sure still are a kid. You couldn't even keep your goddamned arm straight."

His taunts did it. My temper flared, perhaps in all childish indignation that I could have still possessed, and I tightened my grip on my gun's barrel, poised to shoot this time.

Hiko took a step forward, an irritating sneer on his lips. "Come on boy," he whispered evilly. "Let me see you try."

And so I did.

The gunshot resounded ceaselessly in my ear. And so did the horrifying crack made by a bullet coming in contact with a person's skull.

But it was over as quickly as it began, though to me every millisecond seemed like an hour.

Tomoe Hiko had figured out he had been used as a dummy. And yet, what had kept me wondering was why the former hitman didn't fight back -- why he didn't try to attack me or hit me, or do anything -- as Persia said he wouldn't.

Then I realized it only made matters worse.

Persia was right about one thing, though. My fate was decided upon the single squeeze of a trigger. I had chosen this path, and I should get used to it. I must.

The other men in the room filed out quietly -- my other "tutors," so to speak. I didn't see their approving and congratulatory glances as I studied at the corpse -- a once infamous man, now only a tangled mess of bloodied limbs -- before me.

When I was sure I was alone in the room, I buried my face in my hands, and sobbed.

~ owari ~