Untitled *Chapter 1*

The guard grunted in satisfaction. He was fascinated with watching the life of a man dissipate and often imagined seeing the soul fall into the grip of, what he assumed was the fiery furnace of hell.
He glanced up; he had been so involved in watching the life slip from the man, he had not noticed the screams. He got to his feet and towered above the seated hostages. Glaring around he quieted all but a young boy, who continued to wail with all the air his small lungs could muster. Afraid the boy’s cries would call back ‘Falcon’; he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged the screaming toddler towards the next empty carriage.
The boy’s mother protested and tried to keep hold of her child. The guard turned and swung his thick arm into the woman’s mid-section; she buckled up and fell upon her knees before collapsing completely. He continued to drag the young boy towards the next carriage. He slid open the door, threw the boy inside and slid it closed again. Turning around, he noticed that the woman had failed to stand. He walked over fearing that he might need to report to ‘Falcon’ on the casualties. His stomach fluttered briefly when he felt no steady flow of blood in her pulse. Pulling his hand away he imagined it covered in blood, hot, sticky and fresh. He stood up, fearing his visit to first class; ‘Falcon’ would not approve.
He walked towards the front of the carriage and slid open the metal door separating the different compartments. He glanced back slightly, sending a nonverbal warning to the frightened passengers, daring them to move in his absence. He continued forward and slid the door closed behind him; striding through the empty section towards the door that separated first class from the lower population, he checked his demeanour and straightened his shirt. He entered first class and was immediately greeted by five others dressed as he was, holding sub-automatic machine guns. They fell aside as he walked through towards the man known only to him as “Falcon”. He approached the young leader, much younger than himself and about half as smart. Like all of the men he had recruited he was Asian, it seemed he found his own race the most trustworthy. ‘Falcon’ glanced up as the guard approached and a wave of anger washed over his squashed face. He barked something into his cell phone and placed it aside.
“I told you to stay with the hostages Vincent,” he stated, lowering his voice dangerously.
“I’m sorry sir, I have a report” The man who had recently been calling himself Vincent answered.
“Very well, go on”
“Hostages…,” he stopped and thought for a moment, ”...28 and 31 have been killed”.
Falcon pulled a blood stained roll of paper from beside him and glanced down at the names on the list that had been collected at gunpoint.
“Thank you, return to your post now”
Vincent turned his back towards ‘Falcon’ and headed to the door.
The amount of relief he felt was remarkable. He had not been killed or even for that matter, punished.
There was a short quiet noise behind him and Vincent winced in anticipation before crashing to the floor. Holding his arm in pain he sat up slowly and took a deep breath, cursing his ability to think way too soon.
Falcon placed his silencer equipped revolver aside and looked down,
“Never leave your post again.” He said as he picked up his phone, he placed one hand over the mouthpiece “And next time, address me as ‘Falcon’”.