Beginning Note: This fiction was originally written in Bahasa Indonesia in 2011. It's translated to English for an entry of OPHalloween Event in Tumblr for last day prompt. I'll finish translating full chapters on Oct 31. Enjoy!
PROLOG
Halloween Night, Mock Town, 199x
The sound of gunshot and whistle of bullets has become commonplace in this city. The law does not seem to apply. Violence and gunfights are everywhere. Narcotics circulates throughout the city and becomes a venue for the power dispute between each cartel. The citizens seem to has no longer recognized the fear of dealing with death because they often face it.
It's supposed to be so ...
In fact, at that night, one of the most respected drug cartels there-because of the frequent spread of terror and threat, is feeling a terrible fear.
"P-please, don't ..."
Though the gun is still in hand, as usual. Maybe if the shot target is a pedestrian or an ordinary citizen involved and trapped in a clash between cartels, or let's say he's just unlucky because a cartel member is crossing a nuisance or just wanting to test his new gun; the sentence is reasonable to be ejected.
But this is different.
The one who's groaning in pleading is precisely the person who points the gun.
And, in front of him, there have been several bodies lying down due to a bullet penetrated then lodged in their brains.
"Lily, Ross, Eddy, Hewitt, Rivers, Mani, Muret ..," he says, calling their names.
It should also be a familiar scene.
Unless, if it happened beyond common sense.
Heh, usually, the cruel actions of these criminals couldn't be reasoned in common sense, could it? Well, they sometimes shoot blindly even to innocent people! Even if these executants were faced with the opposite situation anyway, they just behave like challenging death and to die with pride while still chuckling to the end.
So why?
What's really going on?
"What's this for, Sarquiss?" asked another person who is still standing then pulled the gun from behind his jacket. "Do you want to betray me?"
The shoulder-length blue-shouldered-haired man called Sarquiss replied shakily, "No, Bellamy, my hands move on their own. I-I'm not ..."
The explanation is obviously inconceivable. Bellamy joined of the gun pointing, of course, toward Sarquiss. And this is what the bespectacled man is afraid of.
However, Bellamy lowered his hand. "You're my right hand, Sarquiss, if you don't think they deserve to be our followers, just the two of us standing on top," he continued, giving a hand gesture to follow as he turned around.
However, all of a sudden ...
BANG!
Bellamy feels the blood dripping from his scraped left temple. He growls and turns back to face Sarquiss. "You really mean it?"
Sarquiss is still scared. "I told you, my hand is moving on its own, and I'm aware, Bellamy, if I really want to shoot you, why I miss the shot?"
Bellamy lifted his hand again and straightened it forward. "Do not duck, you just want to challenge me, let's see whose hand is faster to pull the trigger."
"Bellamy, don't!"
Unfortunately, Sarquiss's speech and body movements are out of sync so Bellamy still forced to defend himself.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three bullets are spewed by Bellamy's gun just to shoot one person. Sarquiss's body collapsed into the back with a chest hit by hot tins.
Hosh Hosh Hosh, though Bellamy becomes uneasy.
This is not how he should have shot someone. He would surely feel the victory even though sometimes he beats only those who have absolutely no passion for resistance, those who merely beg for forgiveness for not being killed. And of course, the ultimate victory is to kill off enemies and rivals. Being a criminal with the number one fugitive is the pride. He was happy to lower the other cartels by relying on his nominal value, 55 million dollars.
That's if this is just a usual incident ...
He knows for sure that the right-hand men in every cartel have high fidelity and he had known Sarquiss long enough since he invited him to form a group. Shooting Sarquiss dead with his own hands was unexpected. But he had no other choice to reflex. Kills or to be killed
His body then starts to feel the cold sweat as he senses there is other power threatening him. And there is no one else besides his. So why are those feeling strengthened?
Hand moving on its own was only Sarquiss' fucking trick, Bellamy told himself. Coincidentally, tonight is Halloween night, it definitely can't be-
"!"
His mind suddenly cut off as he realized that his right hand holding the gun is raised slowly ...
... with the muzzle of the gun pressed against his other temple which is still clean of any wound.
"Hey ... Hey ..," joked him confusingly.
He then used the left hand to pull the hand that mocks himself. And a strong tug happens so it makes him exhausted by himself.
"This is my body!" he shouts, refusing to give up. "Basta-"
CRASSSH!
His left wrist is suddenly cut off.
"AAAAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH ..." he cries in agony.
Bellamy crashed in shock. He could not bear the pain. His blood continues to pour out, his bones flashed. And the more terrible, the clipped pieces of his left hand are still left clasped tightly in his right hand holding the gun. Of course, unfortunately, the right hand is still moving. Freely now.
BANG!
The right hand out of his control then shoots his thigh.
"Goddamn it!" he conceded.
Bellamy shivered more and more. He is more willing to lose his conscious now than to continue to feel very painful. But how could it go away while he is still wondering what had just really attacked him?
His eyes are searching. He still doesn't want to die without knowing what the hell the cause.
BANG!
This time, his left shoulder was shot.
BANG!
Then his stomach.
"Khhhh ...," he cried.
Who the hell, he thought. What is supernatural power controlling my body?
A lot of people have a grudge against him, he realizes. But Bellamy remembers that he usually shoots a person to death without torturing him slowly as he is now. Even if he persecuted another cartel leader, as he had once killed Roshio, he preferred to beat him directly with his bare hands or blunt weapons, like an insult. Both are more of imaging of how powerful he is.
This one he facing looks more like a game.
A game to test the extent to which he can survive.
Finally, his eyes catch something. He seems to see strings wrapped around his right hand. It might've been those thin threads which also slashed the other hand. And as if the secret of the strings isn't wanted to be known, the shot finally led to his forehead.
BANG!
Causes a silence afterward.
.
Not far from the location, on the roof of a five-storey building, there is a figure of person who seems to be watching the scene for so long. He is humming while gesticulating his fingers as if pressing the keys of piano. His fingers' movement then stops. His mouth brings a smile of pleasure although he isn't completely satisfied.
"Fufffufffufffu ..."
End Note: No one of the character's names in this fiction is OC. Roshio and Bellamy's crewmembers' name is just a small character given the name by Oda.