5 - Jackal-esque

“It’s about time I take the matters into my own hands.”

He marched forwards. He felt the most alive he’s ever felt. His target was the heart itself.

[SEPTEMBER 27TH, 3:00PM. WASHINGTON, D.C.]

“Good afternoon, and today, we have a very special report coming in directly from Washington, D.C.” The news anchor announced, taking a moment to correct her dark blonde bangs. “As political tension is at an all-time high, we have, with great efforts, managed to acquire a first-person look as to how it feels to be a member of the government in these trying times.”

“But first, let’s recap the latest developments in the election. Currently, Sheller’s party seems to be in the lead, however, in the last 24 hours, following what is believed to be the assassination of a politically active media reporter, Dyeman has been gaining significant support. The difference in votes remains almost minimal, as if the two sides are evenly matched.” The male anchor said, trying his hardest not to cough during his speech.

“Now, we are honored to present an exclusive report from the White House directly. Mr Abrams, a head representative of the treasury, will give us his perspective on how the election process and the complicated political game has affected him and his field.”

An expected awkward silence followed. A few seconds later, Abrams himself spoke. The cameras were almost shoved in his face. His old, wrinkly face was lit up by the bright studio lights placed around the poshly decorated room.

“Uhm, right now, I’m going to attend an important meeting with president Cohen himself. It is me, him, men from the department of healthcare, and a handful of CEOs, each belonging to a major company based in America. We are going to be discussing some very important issues concerning our great country.”

The reply was as bland as humanly possible, but it was more than enough to satisfy the reporters. They all rushed to ask as many questions as possible, with a shorter lady in glasses getting the first shot.

“Mr. Abrams, how has this intense period affected you personally? Did it impact your personal life? Could it be the reason for your reportedly declining health?”

“I would like to believe that my health is in good condition.” Abrams said. His eyes were locked onto something completely different in the room. “I am honored to be playing a significant role in governing and sustaining our country, and effectively, the world.”

“Mr. Abrams-”

“We apologize for the interruption.” The anchor said. “But we have just received permission to deploy our camera crew directly in the conference room. We will be switching to them as soon as possible.”

The news was put on hold, and a few minutes later, they were live once more. Every other news station was engulfed in hatred and jealousy - none of them were presented this opportunity. For the small station based in Virginia, this was an event that would elevate them to the top of the game.

At last, the scene was fully revealed to the public, and the political opera was heard by the listeners. The oval office was filled to the brim with reporters, all of them begging to be the first one to ask their questions. Even the crowd trying to report on Abrams quickly ran off to chase a bigger bag. but Abrams was likely so hungover he couldn’t even comprehend the concept of an interview.

“I’d like to reinstate the question at hand for our listeners worldwide. Our main concern is the degeneration of our national security, as well as the security for those around the globe.” President Cohen spoke in his raspy voice. He was the least cared about president ever. His gray hair and the cane by his seat, his old face, and his facade of neutrality were unimaginably boring to some people.

“Mr. President, is it true that both Mr. Sheller and Mr. Dyeman are backed by soulfuls that support their campaigns? Are those soulfuls involved in coordinating the assassination?”

“It is our duty to understand that soulfuls are humans too, and unfortunately, conflict between humans is unavoidable.” Cohen said. “That is why we believe that the issue must be addressed as seriously as possible. We want peace, not just right here, but all over the world.”

“Mr. President, you didn’t-”

“Mr. President, over here!” Another reporter took the spotlight. “Is there any way the public can support the process for peace? Many people are concerned for their safety and want to help achieve peace themselves.”

“I’ll tell you this, these men standing behind me, they are the men that develop the corporate cornerstones of America. They are good men, and by helping them grow, you will help the world grow, and growth is a prerequisite for peace.”

“I think I’m saying everything right. I don’t want them to get mad at me at this eleventh hour.”

“Mr. President, is it true that most corporations are taking a certain stance on the elections? Why do most of them support Sheller’s more radical movement, especially Bernard Stanley?”

“I cannot answer that question, I apologize. But I cannot explain someone else’s opinion. They likely have their own reasons, their own business interests. Perhaps, some of the policies allow their businesses to operate on a higher level.”

“They want soulfuls gone completely, removed out of the equation.”

“Ah, damn it, I should’ve taken more sedatives...”

“Mr. President, do you think the debates will be a turning point? Do you believe that Dyeman could regain the lead?” Another reporter asked, almost yelling.

“I do think that the debates will have a significant impact on the elections. As a matter of fact, they might indeed be a turning point. A lot of people have questions, governors and CEOs have questions. The stakes are at an all time high, and the fate of the world-”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“My God, you’re so fucking boring.” Jackal said, entering the room. Behind him was a trail of blood in. He, his hand engulfed in shadows, and an oozing black pool travelling alongside him. He chose to act. “Conference is over, go home.”

“W-who is that?” One of the CEOs said, stepping forward. “Watch how you talk to the president!” The president himself stepped back and tripped, falling on his back. He saw black colors emerge on the ceiling and slowly begin to cover the room.

“And who are you?” Jackal said. A shadowy spear ejected itself from his hand and pierced the CEO’s skull, killing him instantly.

The room went up in flames from the panic. They tried to run away, at the same time, security tried to run in. The president himself was immobilized from the shock. Seriously, what was a senile soulless in charge of the world supposed to do when confronted with a young and hungry soulful? He couldn’t even look him in the face. His political power meant nothing, he was a bug. A fly. A damn cockroach.

With a swift motion, Jackal used a slashing shadow tentacle to decapitate almost all of the reporters present. Once the bloodbath stopped, he used his shadows to fully seal all entrances and exits, even the windows.

“The man in charge of the world?” Jackal asked, approaching Cohen. His hand transformed into a sharp tentacle and pierced one of the CEOs behind him. “Did ya never think I’d pay you a visit?”

“Y-y-you t-terrorist scum!” Cohen stuttered. Instantly, another man was killed behind him. “What do you want?”

“A lot of things.” Jackal replied, killing another one. “Most importantly, I want all of you gone.” With another attack, another one bit the dust.

“What do you get by killing me?” Cohen said. “Please, I’ll do anything, what do you want? Money? I’ll give you money, alright!”

“Oh, nobody cares about how much paper you can print and give away.” Jackal said. “It’s your turn to go now. But it’s not just about you though, it’s about the entire system you guys made.”

“What...?” Cohen slowly crawled forwards, trying to extend his foot to reach underneath the desk.

“You made a system that locks everyone up, that forces people to live like cardboard figures with predetermined lives. It’s...a bit hard to explain to someone like you, y’know? There’s some things you just gotta understand yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. No one has true free will in a regime where scum like you exist.” Jackal said. “They’re all scared of something, obeying something, no one knows how to be selfish and genuinely enjoy life. They just get born, go to school, go to college, work a job, pay taxes, retire and fucking die!”

“That’s...a normal life that benefits society! You’re describing a normal life you goddamn lunatic!” Cohen yelled.

“Ask yourself, how many people lost their will to live or ambition or couldn’t realize themselves because of this shitty system?” Jackal yelled back, extending his right hand and striking Cohen in the stomach. The desk was no longer an option, the small storage beneath the windowsill was the way to go now. “And you, you control everything. You make sure that you make as much money as possible, and no one can stop you. You want people to be chained up. You and all of those corporate assholes.”

“Ah, this feels so nice...”

“What...nonsense...” Cohen said. He drew the gun concealed in one of the many secret spots in the office and aimed it at Jackal. Unfortunately, Jackal was faster. He chopped the president’s arm off, and prepared to kill him.

“If you kill me, there will be consequences.” Cohen said. “I’m not joking. You do not know what is going to happen. You have no-”

“I don’t care about the consequences. I’ll be happy, and that’s all that matters.” Jackal said. With one swift motion, he decapitated the most powerful man in the world. The military was beginning to gather outside, the world was in a state of panic.

“I’m doing everything right...”

“This is what life is about. Making a difference, and doing what you want...I wonder if this is what Sakuto Hitori felt when he killed Diego.”

“I wonder what Q would think once he hears the news.”

“He’ll get to live in a better world.”

He looked at his black hand.

“I care about him a lot, don’t I?”

[MISSOURI]

“The fucking president?!” Sakuto yelled in shock and excitement. He was in utter disbelief. “Holy shit, damn, I didn’t know he was really about that life!”

“For real...” Oskar said, turning up the radio’s volume in their car. “I’m guessing the debates are off. God...damn. Wow. Wonder who they’re gonna put in charge as a replacement until the elections are over.”

“See, I’m kinda sad that I have to put him down.” Sakuto said. “Really, life is bound to be interesting when you have a guy like this running around.”

“Well, now you really gotta focus.” Oskar said. “Still, this is kinda funny. I don’t know what’s going on in his head to justify doing that.”

“The guy just likes freedom.”

Their rather expensive looking black car was on the road for nearly the whole day before. They needed to get to D.C. as fast as possible.

“Sad he didn’t go for the brain though...for every president Cohen, there’s some other giants that pull the strings.” Oskar yawned.

“You mean the BSBM right?” Sakuto asked.

“Yeah, it’s what I’ve been saying this whole time. A second Night Ocean gotta happen at some point, wipe their faces off the planet. One by one.” Oskar sighed.

“I think Jackal’s taken a liking to me.” Sakuto said. “Don’t get jealous, though. I could probably ask him to take care of it. If he’s into that type of stuff, might as well have him do the dirty work. We won’t lose rep.”

“Nah. If we see Jackal, we gotta kill him.” Oskar said.

However, another car passed them on the highway. It was light gray, and there were also just two people inside. Just like Sakuto and Oskar, they were headed to D.C., and were in disbelief from hearing the news.

“What the hell was he thinking...” Q said, grabbing his head with his cold palms.

“I don’t know man. Fuck, I’m ever scared to go there right now, man.” Terry said, trying his hardest to not lose his mind and crash the vehicle. “The whole country’s gonna be on us.”

“I just don’t understand it.” Q said.

“Jackal’s always been like this.” Terry said. “Reckless, not thinking about anything he does. Living like a goddamn animal.”

Q closed his eyes, leaning back in the car seat. A moment later, he asked.

“Hey uncle Terry...”

“...What is wrong with him?!”