The Story of Blood and Roses

"Mia here wanted to be a cop when she was a kid and serve the people—" I heard a series of snorts, but others remained silent, looking anywhere except at me in fear of revealing their true dreams. "-but as it turns out, she has chosen the highway to hell!" They all laughed with him. Even I smiled a little.

They all respected him, I could see that. They would probably give their lives for this man—well, some of them, at least.

"Yeah," I said with a smile.

I heard a distinct cough from beside me and saw Scott tapping his foot impatiently. For a man who was going to die, he was utterly irritable. Normally, people would let the pursuers talk a hell lot so that they could live for a few more minutes.

'Interesting turn of events, indeed.'

"Oh yes, Scott." Anthony walked towards him until he towered over Scott, looked down at him with an amused expression. "How could I forget you?"

Scott remained silent as Anthony circled his chair once to inspect him and then gave a satisfied sigh. "How could I forget you?" he teased.

He sauntered back towards the counter and placed the glass of whiskey on it and reached back into the back pocket of his jeans to pull out his gun. Scott gulped audibly at the sight of the loaded gun.

But to my utter surprise, Anthony detached the magazine out and removed all the bullets from it one by one and put them on the counter. "Join me," he said smoothly, holding his hand out to me. I stared at his hands for a moment, before taking it.

'Let the games begin.'

"Put these bullets in the glass for me, will you." He leaned back on the counter just beside where he had kept the glass and bullets. I nodded, refusing to show my confusion and collected the bullets in my hand. They made clinks as they hit the bottom of the glass. All the while, I was aware of Anthony's presence. His hands brushed against mine as I worked on the given task. I took the glass in my hands and turned to him. He had a satisfied grin on his face. He looked down at me, his eyes twinkling in pleasure as I handed him the glass of whiskey.

He tilted his head to a side as if to say a silent 'thank you', and turned to Scott.

"I would like to thank him for providing excellent service throughout his stay." His eyes never left Scott as he addressed the others. "I've had my drink, but you look thirsty. Why don't you enjoy the drink I've made for you? It's my specialty!" His spoke as if he was actually celebrating and asking others to join him. He was a brilliant actor and a master manipulator.

Even though it embittered me to admit it, he was a genius. The FBI, CBI and any other organizations would never be able to touch him.

'A genius,' I tested the word in my mind yet again.

Scott shook his head slightly, nervously wondering if he did the right thing. It pleased Anthony to no end. He was having fun seeing him squirm and suffer. It wasn't anything new; it was a standard method many such people used- using the mind to torture. But the way he was doing it... it was a slow burn, consuming everything so slowly that death seemed like a better option.

Anthony's expression changed abruptly. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his teeth grinding, and his jaw tense. He was by the chair in a second, and in the next, kicking its legs so hard that it gave away. I saw Scott crash to the floor before hearing the sound of wood snapping.

Scott was curled up on the ground holding his left arm on which he had landed on, but he made no sound. Anthony was kneeling by his side again, flipping him over by the shoulder. His hands gripped the glass of whiskey painfully hard as he grabbed Scott's chin and yanked his head up.

"Cheers to you," he growled as he brought the glass to Scott's lips and tilted it until the whole whiskey was poured down.

Scott coughed and spat out as much as he could. He gagged as the bullets hit his throat, but couldn't turn his head and throw up because of Anthony's firm grip.

After a few seconds of tormenting Scott, Anthony let go of his jaws and raised himself up. He combed his hand through his hair.

His breathing was harsh, his eyes dark with anger.

His eyes snapped to me. "Get your gun." I nodded. I pulled the gun out from my left boot and held it by my side. "Shoot," he instructed.

My hands didn't shake. I lifted my hand up, aimed for his forehead and fired. The sound of the shot echoed in the room. All fell silent again, waiting for Anthony's next move. He turned to look at Scott's lifeless body.

It was as if I could see the fire disappearing from his eyes. His eyes were calm and collected.

"Clean this up," Anthony ordered. "Mia, please follow me." I did as he asked. He headed back to his office with me trailing behind him.

His walk was confident. I could compare it to the walk of a lion- majestic and strong.

He entered his office, grabbed his cell phone and spoke harshly into the phone. I waited for him to give me further instruction. It took a while for him to settle down and finally look at me.

"I hope you enjoyed the little show," he mumbled under his breath. He was still angry. There was a storm inside him that he couldn't quench even after he had finished off Scott.

"Immensely," I said loudly. His eyes snapped to me, and he frowned.

"Of course you did." He shook his head. "I'm impressed that you didn't hesitate to kill," he said with a raised eyebrow. "It was a test of course- to see how well you follow orders and handle situations." He added the last part quickly.

'Sure!'

"So you kill a member every time someone new comes in?" I challenged.

"No, this was a rather inviting change," he grumbled. "But you have done a good job. We'll be a great team." His smirk was back in place. I rolled my eyes before giving a quick nod.

"You're expected at my beck and call. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Understood?" I nodded. I couldn't question his authority when he gave no scope for an answer.

"You can leave now," he said, pointing at the door and putting his attention to a bunch of papers.

I pressed my lips together, wondering what I should do and decided that I should leave.

"Have a good day, Anthony," I mumbled before leaving the room.

.

I was lying on my bed with my eyes closed. My wet hair stuck against my skin. The shower had relaxed me after I had gotten home.

Suddenly, I heard the bell ring and jumped up. I ran to the door and opened it, only to find a man delivering a parcel. I signed after asking who the parcel was from. I received no answer.

Just to be safe, I pulled out the watch and waved it over the box. Daisy had mentioned something about it having an X-ray scanner. It showed nothing suspicious, so I opened the parcel to find a cardboard box. I opened it.

A black rose.

There was a note stuck inside the box. I pulled it out and read it carefully. My eyes widened as I registered the words.

['No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive our bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death and with his title greet Macbeth.

What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. –Duncan, Act 1 scene 2. (Macbeth, William Shakespeare)

Love,

Jasper.']

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