Just the start
The smell of gun powder and blood lingered in the air, Van has only been working on the force for a few months but he learned those scents fairly fast. His eyes survey the room; he played back what must have happened in his mind like a video. He saw a man 5’11” in a blue worksite with white lettering stitched out spelling “Frank”. He pictured his crocked lips grinning showing his yellow smoked covered teeth as he knocked on the door. The door cracked open a man stood there in a t-shirt and jean shorts, “Finally! I called you fuckers hours ago.” He greeted Frank. Frank reached his grubby hand out to shake the man’s only to be refused as the man spun around. “The kitchen is this way” said the man as he started to walk. Frank took his hand and ran it though his dirty brown hair as he sighed and lifted his rusty old red tool box.
Inside the kitchen sat a fifteen year old Kenmore dishwater spitting out soapy water across the laminated floor. Frank placed his toolbox onto the counter, “Mr…” he started to say
“The name is George”
“George, do you like games?” Frank said as he unsnapped the two silver hatches on his tool box.
“Uh, I guess so.”
“How about we play a little game, if you win the job is on the house?” Franks, hand where now rummage around though his tool box.
“And if I lose?”
“Well that is quite simple,” grind Frank, that same grin one gets from a sales man as he is about to screw you up the ass. “You die if you lose at Russian Roulette” he laughed as he pulled out a black .22 Diamondback. Flipping out the cylinder he places one lonely bullet inside.
“What the fuck are you doing?” scream George, his eyes looking around to see if he could find anything as a weapon.
Frank only respond with the sound of the cylinder on the revolver spinning as he joke around saying “Round and round she goes, where she’ll stop nobody knows.” as the cylinder flipped back in place. He pointed the gun at George pulling back the hammer, his aim was dead on as he pulled the trigger. The bullet flew out of the chamber down the barrel.
Now George laid dead on the floor of his own dining room soaking in his own blood. A bullet sitting in the middle of his forehead 4 inches deep was the cause of death.