A cold wind rustled my bowl-cut silver hair as I entered the Bone Village on the northern most major continent. I had always hated the man for whom I worked, Commander Valentine, but I knew that as long as he never thought of me as anything but another employee he would be completely oblivious to my using him and his organization as a latter to supreme power. All this time I had been slowly killing him, but with no sword, or gun, or toxin. I had been killing him ever sense the day we met, and if he would just open his eyes to the possibility that everyone in this world is not worthy of a man's trust he would see that I have been doing it bluntly in front of his face.

"I see you have returned," a cold voice said from the shadows of a tent that was held up by ancient ivory. "And what events have come of your endeavor?"

"Why would you really want to know? I got the job done and you really would not like to hear the foretelling of a story that is just one of many I have and most likely will tell you." I tried to sound as obedient as any warrior to his master. But all I had to say to myself was that if I persevered through this game for just a little longer then my opportunity would arise.

"Humor me, I tire of this boredom, waiting for one of my co-contractors to ask for the word to build another industrial improvement," He lifted his gun, a modified assault rifle, and pointed it at me. I couldn't be sure if he was really aiming at me because his face was masked by the shadows but I knew that at that range he could not miss if he tried, "And the two things that entertain me the most are the murder of people, and the reporting of ones duties to me. It is in your best interest to pick the latter of the two."

"No shit" I thought to myself, "the guy really thinks that he is the only one that has any idea of what is going on in the world. He used that same line every time I reported back to him, and this will be the last time that I take his advice." In compliance with his orders I gave him a vivid description of the events down to every last ripple in the pools of blood and made sure I brought special attention to every time that someone in the room took a breath. I knew that it would bother him and I certainly hoped that he would cut me off in the middle, because it was starting to bother me too. Unfortunately he heard my story through, sometimes even asking me to repeat starting from an event I talked about 5 minutes before just so that he could get a second chuckle in.

But that was the one thing I liked about him if anything, he reminded me of myself. He always stayed poised and seemed always held together well. I even thought that he had a decent sense of humor, laughing at the parts of the story that I had found humorous when I experienced it. And if anything he let you get to the end of a sentence before he would cut you off in anyway, even if he was about to kill you I'd expect for him to let you get to the end of your sentence before killing you. This was either a sense of honor, arrogance, or even just another little thing he did to humor himself, I like to think some of all three. Despite all this I would savor the moment that I felt his blood on my hands; I could almost feel it now, warm, dripping from my hands that had caused him that fatal wound. That day would be one that I would treasure for the rest of my life; I could just feel that I would be. That day would be here, sooner than the earth could spin on its axis.

Death, a flavorful treat that few can ever bear witness to. There aren't many people who can say they have killed a person, even fewer who can say they have done it on multiple occasions. I, on the other hand, can say that I do it often, even constantly. Because I could feel that, even though just yesterday I took to life of at least three dozen men, today there would be a murder and I would be the cause of that murder. By blood began to flow faster as I prepared, if I was not completely and entirely focused both mentally and physically I knew that I could not win even under the most beneficial circumstances.

Then my employer walked in. This was the first time I had seen him, I had always imagined him to be a fat man with pours that were completely saturated with grease. But these assumptions were about as incorrect as they could have ever been.

In front of me stood a man of a height similar to mine, six foot two inches give or take, and of a very muscular build. He had long black hair with matching eyes. As I had seen from the way he spoke he was a very poised man and he had a stare that pierced into the soul, I was somewhat glad I had never seen him before because for the first time sense my creation I felt a great sense fear.

"Tell me of the events from yesterday, one final time." His face hardened and he tried to intimidate me, I tried not to let him know that it was working. His cape caught the wind and exposed the gun that he had pointed at me before and a new weapon, a sword.

"Why should I repeat it, you would grow tired of the same story again." I could see it in him. I don't know what I saw it in but something about him let me know, he saw my every move before I even had finished planning it.

"Humor me, I tire of this boredom, waiting for one of my co-contractors to ask for the word to build another industrial improvement," Just a reflex, I knew that much. Either that or he was trying to psyche me out, and with his calm yet cold stature in which he held himself it was working very well and my mind began to race. I knew what was coming next; the only problem was so did he. "And the two things that entertain me the most are the murder of people, and the reporting of ones duties to me. It is in your best interest to pick the latter of the two."

"I pick the former" I responded as my hand shot to the hilt of my sword to make the first move, I knew I would have to move fast and when I drew my blade it had to be my first attack. My only problem was that we played two different chess games; I play as they come and he predicts every move until the end of the game. The only problem was that he was always right, for his had was already at the handle of his weapon.

We both drew, I like to think simultaneously but I know he drew much faster. I struck at his head with a backhanded slash but all I could see was the sparks from the clashing of the two swords. And then without a moment to waste he slashed his sword for my head…