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Waste Away the Away

Chapter Three

No acceptance came out of Chance "Merick" Rorik. A sliver of confusion occurred but no seriousness. Laughs of misplaced hilarity fell out of his muzzle between canines of brushed white color. "What's on today's menu then?! Should I get between their eyes or how about each foot for a, what's it called... an execution! For the newly foundedIllinusRepublic!" While Merick enjoyed himself, Rillion "Wyvern" Happenson stood up to go over to the tarp in silence, contemplating whether this trip would turn into a catastrophe or not. Wyvern cautiously whipped around his pack to the ground and zipped open two pouches. One visible and the other within. Four separate items were observed; a magazine, two bullets, and a picture. Merick watched his friend pull out these objects, realizing no joke was being made. Chance viewed, in silent horror, as Rillion stared at the gun magazine, showing no emotion except that look of a soldier who's lost in a period of recollection which brings him back to a time when something happened, an event so alien to reality that only those there would mention of its existence. It rested in Wyvern's hand, black in frame with perfection all around. One defect appeared. A rough etching made by an unsteady hand was placed into its lower left corner. Years ago on a hill next to this one, Rillion remembered when he put the etching into that very magazine. No matter how much he cleaned or repainted the magazine it remained. A minor dot of rough metal lay close to the etching. It was caused by a tear.

"How many times have we shot people, Derry?" "I lost count at the third bullet I shot on that cruddy firing range back at Nantes." "Oh, when the educated sprang out and tried to get us from behind their painted cardboard cover?" "Kinda felt bad for 'em. If I remember right we were hung-over, too." "Enough boasting, we're letting our child sit on top of a hill while we brag. Let's say why we're here." No clouds graced about on this day. No atmosphere for something evil. Nothing bad will happen today. Arron stretched as Derek went over and started digging. A young cub sat and watched. His Fox traits showed signs of forthcoming in his orange coat. Speckles of white coloring shined almost metallically on this sunny Sunday morning. Rillion stared up at his Dads with a smile as his young self admired them. Each a canine with enough training on killing to write a dictionary that explained each way in vivid detail and what pain the victims experienced. Either guilt doesn't affect them or the love they created between each is so indirect and strong, the act of killing is seen as a game. Derek, the Sheppard with light fur, walked over to Rill and crouched to meet him at eye level while saying, "Today son," he reached out and ruffled the Fox's head fur, "today will be your first experience at what me and your Dad do almost every other day. Bring peace to the majority while silencing the important." Arron shouted out as he kept digging, "Derry, don't give him poetry. Nothing you do will make this more subtle in his mind." A sigh of annoyance was Derek's reply, presenting his deep resentment with what he was doing; showing his young son what the world calls a necessary evil.

Arron was a Sheppard of the same breed but showed off darker fur patterns along with multiple scars along his muscled right arm. He lifted a gun out of the shallow, dug-out pit with his "clean" arm, free of mutilating scars, and set it up near the decline with a bipod to face a suburbia building complex. "You have permission to talk Rillion," said Derek out of the side of his mouth. "Thanks Dad. So, what am I supposed to do today?" No reply came as the Sheppard walked away, wanting to talk with Arron. Rillion stood up and ran to his Dad and walked the rest of the short distance holding his hand. "You remember using the pellet gun we got you for Christmas," a jagged up-down nod was sent back with a smile, "Well this is just like that gun okay? This is a rifle. You'll learn everything about it later because ol' I-Know-About-Guns over there won't rest until you do, trust me." Arron only looked up without redirecting his face and mumbled a fast "Hmph." Derek went back to briefing his son. "You know how to measure drop right?" Flows of wind gusted out some stray hairs from Rillion's shedding coat "Of course, you taught me." "You know how to hit a moving target, right? You ai..." "Aim in front of them I know." "Don't inter... never mind. Hey so are you thinking about why we brought you here?" "I was wondering why that rifle is there Dad? Am I gonna watch you Shoot it?! That would be so cool, but then we would have to run and stuff 'cause the noise it makes." "No noise Rill, it has an OUS on the barrel. A One-Use Silencer. Me and Arron get 'em for free but I imagine they cost a lot since they make the rifle as quiet as a Terrier Team operation."

Arron pulled down some metal contraption in haste exclaiming, "Let's get this over with and start studying why we should have just shown him a children's story with some gore." Derek replied with assertiveness saying, "Our legacy is founded on the lost innocence tradition and I hate it just as much as you do. Every one of our fathers hated it just as we do and they went through for us. It doesn't look like it, but Rillion needs to loose his or the rest of the world is going to suffer for our hesitation." Arron stood up from his last check over and said, "Nothing in my mind will justify this act. I know it's a necessary evil and it must be done, but I'll never see myself accept this as just." A pause gave the mountain wind time to adjust as it whistled about, giving a chance for the two to think. "Just wish it didn't have to be our son," grunted Arron in anger. "Don't worry," whispered Derek to the wind so only his lover would hear it, "it will only be our son. No one else has to suffer after today."

"Dad," Rillion meant to bring the attention of both as he spoke, "Say what to do and we can leave after I do it. I mean how hard can it be? I know it has something to do with the gun, so let me shoot the empty can across the valley, then we'll run home. Okay?" Derek just stared at the ground, motionless. His chest looked as if it stopped taking in air. Arron talked to Rill and looked him straight in the eye with no expression saying, "You came hear today to kill someone you know who has an important part in their father's life. His father runs a big company that just invested in the wrong kind of business" Not much shock came to his young red patterned face. No sudden regret of living and no tears. He just spoke and said, "That's not that bad. I won't like it but if that's all it..." Arron walked over and sat next to his son. "Listen Rill, you need to kill this person, because we signed your signature on the contract. If you don't kill this target... you'll be taken away from us by death from people who we aren't allowed to look at. The target is your friend. It's Trent Richards. You know him as Matt, his nickname." As the Fox listened to what was explained he looked up at his Dad. "How do I kill him?" Any change of expression was masked by Rillion's pried and he wouldn't let down his parents even if it meant killing his friend. "Is that all you want to know?" A change occurred in Rillion. He began talking in a stressed voice with no control of volume. "How do I kill him!?" Derek clenched his fist, he had watched them play together and he could see the premature love Rill had in his eyes forTrent. Childhood crushes were something untainted to this point in Derek's life. "How could I bring so much horror on my own son," he thought. "Why does he have to like him to that level? Have I been reduced to killing childhood love?" Arron continued talking with an objective like tone with a quiet voice. "It's supposed to look professional. I think a heartshot would suffice. No headshots, that's illegal for children contracts." Rillion stomped aggressively while walking to the rifle, past Arron while saying through his teeth, "And killing children isn't."

Rillion now laid still, belly down, with his right eye upon the scope. His parents stood by, arms wrapped around each other with regret in their minds, flowing around like propaganda levitating above a highway that says "You Messed Up." No talking occurred as the wind once again raised its voice as the day's soundtrack, causing all on the hill to acknowledge it in a sense of divine participation. No religion circulated in their family, but the events one had to commit to live in it should be considered cult-like. Rill found his friend's house after five minutes of stalling at the edges of his neighborhood. The heart. A tricky shot for any trained individual and never used professionally unless the specifics deemed it necessary and in the context of assassinating children, the technique became used. This kind of operation was usually reserved for experts, but Derek pulled a few strings and moved the case into the trainee section. Only being a youth, Rillion fell under the category. He found his friend lounging on the upper balcony. His heart was blocked by his father, who was intended to view the disaster. The training received gave Rillion the ability to hold his trigger so close to the pressure of firing that a simple harsh breath would cause it to fire, which is exactly where Rill had his finger at the moment. The target moved downstairs, his scope followed along to the next opportunity of sight. Two chances for a clean kill went by as he watched his friend play by his sister within the backyard.Trent's father prepared barbeque nearby. It was time.Trentmoved towards a toy and picked it up. The miniature car was held above his head, body facing the hill.

Click. That was the only noise that assisted the wind in its effort to lighten the mood. Arron faced inward and held Derek as they closed their eyes tightly and waited for a sign to move on and comfort what bit of a son they had left. Rill just kept watching until his tears smudged up the lens enough.Trentlay on the ground with a hole .308 inches wide right through the center of his heart. His sister cried as the father ran with her dead friend's body flailing about in his arms running to the house. Rillion sat up and let the tears roll. No attempts to wipe away them were made as he leaned over and yanked out the cartridge after adjusting the rifle bolt. Words came from the sobs under a somewhat controlled posture while he asked for an etcher from Derek. The pocket knife was handed over and a rough engraving of the date and time was marked in the magazines frame. A pile of tears accumulated at his eyebrows before they fell, scattering about on the magazine. "It's over son. We can go now." Sniffles gave him a chance to reply. He asked, "Do I have to go to his funeral, too?" Arron picked him up and carried him home while the gun was being disassembled by Derek and reburied, to be covered by a corrosive substance meant to eat metal. "Keep the mag. He'll want a souvenir." And at that, the Fox boy realized he had never felt sadness before like this. Tears couldn't be made as the act he committed set in on his young mentality.

Rillion called his friend over and he came without any interjection. "If you want to be with me forever, you'll have to kill this women." He glided the pic to Chance's face and he recognized her as the disciplinary CEO of the new resourceful energy company that supplies third world countries with energy, but takes slaves as payment without any obligation. "I've wanted to kill her, but what would she be doing here?" One of the bullets was pressed back into the bag as Rillion pushed the other into his reused magazine. "You see her daughter in the pic. She goes to middle school here. You'll be shooting her today. Whether it's a kill or injury it doesn't matter. Just hit her with this. The bullet will do the rest." Chance took the magazine and placed it on the ground and looked up at his friend. "Why would I injure something so innocent by command?" "To be with me. That's your only motivation, if you don't I'll be forced to leave your life forever and do this myself. If it makes you feel better, her mother will resign her company to a CC officer that I know. It's a coup that you will have to be a part of to get vouched for CC training with me." Rillion placed a kiss on Chance's face and stood up to rest on a rock, facing the valley opposite of the rifle's aim.