"I'm over here trying to sleep, and I got you two knuckleheads cutting up and laughing like pirates on the…." Unfortunately, he couldn't finish his statement because, amid his dreary walk, he lost his footing on the smooth carpet, fell on his butt, and slid down the stairs with a loud thump as he ended up on the first floor.
Not only did he yelp in comedic fashion, but as he landed on the first floor in a heap, Tristian, Renton, and I All burst out laughing at Chase's expense.
Luckily he wasn't injured, and amidst our laughter, Chace jumped back to his feet and quickly shouted, "I'm OK."
Which only served to make us laugh even harder, and for just a minute, everything seemed normal again, the chaos of the world around us disappeared, and we were just three guys laughing at our fourth friend busting his ass.
Unfortunately, our delusional moment of peace was suddenly cut short by a blaring announcement coming from the TV.
A short fanfare sounded off on the screen, getting our attention, as the Timer slid to the top right corner and shrunk.
Once again, we were greeted by the smiling face of the terrorist who had plummeted the world into destruction.
"Hello, once again, my friends or enemies, whichever you prefer, I come to you with good news."
Hearing the psychopath's introduction, Tristian snorted, and I frowned while Renton crossed his arms and glared at the TV.
Of the four of us, only Chase showed fear while watching the man on screen, while Renton and I balled our hands into tight fists filled with rage.
"Is it too much to hope he's calling off the timer thing?" Tristan spoke up, however; his retort fell on deaf ears.
"Before you get your hopes up, I am not calling off the Requiem..." As if responding to Tristian's words, Niklaus Fastay responded to the thought hanging in the air.
"What the fuck...can he hear me or something," jumping to his feet and looking around the living room for hidden cameras or microphones, Tristian practically screamed, causing me to catch his shoulder and force him back down.
"No… although many of you who don't see eye-to-eye with me are hoping that isn't the case; I am sorry to break it to you, but I will not be calling off my much-anticipated event." Niklaus giggled and raised his hands as if saying, "Oh well, nothing can be done."
"Instead, I have something entertaining to show you, and you won't want to miss this." With a wave of his hand, two small boxes appeared on the screen below the cyber bombardier as he began speaking again.
"Overnight, my fellow compatriots and I have succeeded in our first two victories over the world's Villanous Capitalist Nations." Niklaus clapped his hands, and the two newly formed on-screen boxes lit up as if the lights were suddenly turned on in a room.
From the white wash of light, the camera lens focused, and we were greeted with the image of two people in each on-screen box.
My eyes narrowed as I observed the room these two people were in, and the first thing I noticed was that the grey rooms appeared no different than a standard corporate office, but that wasn't all.
Instead of spotting any differences between the rooms, they were identical, all the way down to the stupid picture hanging on the wall of a cat clutching to the edge of a tree branch with words, "Just keep hanging in there!" printed in bold text.
I had my thoughts, but I pushed them aside and examined the two individuals on a chair in the center of the room.
Like something out of a movie, we were watching a scene with one person on their knees wearing a blue jumpsuit and a burlap sack over their head, while the second person stood behind the hooded captive and wore all black with a ski mask covering their face.
Ignoring that the room seemed identical, I soon spotted the first difference between the two views, which came in the way of the captive person.
On the left-most box, the person in blue was plump and breathing heavily; meanwhile, on the right-most box, the captive seemed to have an athletic build and was perfectly calm, which given his current predicament, was surprising.
"These two men have committed crimes against the less fortunate of other countries and their people. Time and time again, the two of them have proven they only care about two things, money and themselves." Niklaus's voice drew me out of my observations as he motioned towards the box on his right and then the one on his left.
"Not only have the two of them sent their armies after me, creating a witch hunt not seen in hundreds of years, but their hands are stained with the blood of the innocents they swore to protect."
"Time and time again, they have put their agendas ahead of the world's people and have directly facilitated the growth of evil and corruption, with no other goal than their personal satisfaction."
"As such, I, Niklaus Fastay, sentence these two men to death for their crimes against the world." On cue, the masked men drew out strange-looking weapons resembling a cross between a machete and a sword before slicing the kneeling men's heads off with a single swing.
With a SHING and a sickly thud, the two captive men collapsed to the ground with blood shooting from their necks.
Tristian and Chase looked away from the screen in horror, but Renton and I were glued to the TV screen.
"Who are they, Dean." Unfortunately, I couldn't respond in time because the masked men walked and picked up the bags holding the severed heads.
The Masked man on the right opened his back and showed it to the camera. The head belonged to a plump captive, an elderly, fat, balding white man with his eyes rolled back and tongue out of his mouth.
Realization dawned on me when I saw his face, and my mouth hung open in shock.
"That…that's the Prime Minister of Great Britain." I shuddered as my eyes quickly turned toward the opposite screen, hoping my theory about the second man would be wrong.
Unfortunately, when the ski-mask man revealed the contents of the second bag to the camera, its contents made my heart plummet into my stomach.
In the second bag was the severed head of The President of the United States.
As if to add insult to injury, the visual image of a ski-mask man holding the heads of the two officials was replaced with the words USA and UK before they went entirely black and disappeared, leaving only Niklaus and the Timer on screen.
"Both the United States and The United Kingdom have lost their leaders. Woe is me; what will happen to these countries, who prided themselves on being the Leaders of the Free world, with their chief executives gone?" Wearing a mocking smile, Niklaus put on the façade of someone who cared.
Without thinking about the consequences of my actions, I slammed both fists down on the glass coffee table shattering through it and spilling the disassembled rifle all over the floor, my efforts making everyone but Renton flinch.
While lost in my unbridled fury, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Renton wasn't taking the news any better than me. He had both fists clenched, and a small trickle of blood was running down his right palm.
"Sigh; well, with that said, I will leave you all to your devices and return the screen to my magnificent Timer. Only Four hours until you will all see my vision come to light." Giving a curt bow to the camera, Niklaus vanished from sight, and the TV cut back to only the Timer.
When the screen returned to the Timer, I jumped to my feet and stormed out of the room, making a B-Line straight to the refrigerator but, more importantly, the alcohol.
It wasn't my most brilliant idea, but since I couldn't smoke, I needed something to curb the anxiety I was experiencing.
Left alone, since no one wanted to intercept my already pissed-off self, I had enough time to shotgun *chug* not one but two beers before my brother came to check on me.
Contrary to what anyone would expect, Renton didn't say a word; instead, he just extended his hand toward me, so I swiftly handed him a fresh, cold beer.
After a couple of sips, he sighed loudly and broke the ice.
"Welp, I guess we are in for some shit this time," he said, stating the obvious so blatantly that I couldn't help but laugh out of frustration.
"Ain't that the understatement of the century, Renton; did you notice anything about the rooms they shot the executions in?" Taking a long sip of my beer, I looked toward him with an eyebrow raised as I voiced my concerns, only to find him mirroring my actions.
"They were identical, and if the room is the same, it means the videos were shot at different times."