∆ If you view the video above, this will make a little more sense. Enjoy! ∆
"Let's move onto article 17, please." A.J Carmichael said as Five silently navigated himself the the hallway with a silver axe in hand - stoping once he arrived at the open double doors, holding the shining weapon up high above his shoulder.
On the large wooden table there were eleven people, five on each side of the length - and a man with a bowl over his head ( containing a single orange fish ) at the head of the table.
Water gurgled as Carmichael leaned forwards, placing his hands angrily on the table - immediately recognising his former employee, whilst the others sat there confused.
"You!"
"What's he doing?"
"Call security!"
He fumed.
Tom and Cicero watched in both awe and slight horror as the woman that had placed her hand on the ebony phone scream shrilly, and promptly faint after Five ran forwards and swung - axe thwacking and removing the limb from the elbow down.
The dial tone hummed and beeped as the massacre began.
"No!"
"What the hell?"
He unstuck the wedged hunk of metal, turning and grinning almost insanely.
The other two stood on either side of the doorway, watching the scene unfold before them - the killer and the blond completely unaware of the fact that a sly snake had joined them.
They saw Five disappear in a bright blue haze, taking out three directors brutally in the blink of an eye - vital bloody organs hanging limply.
The old timer straightened his black blood sprayed tie and quickly wiped his hand twice on his blazer, everyone gasping in horror.
Another man beside a lamp grunted and fell, struck in the chest, the boy grabbing the tall glass of water that was beside him and taking a quick drink - more directors shrieking noisily.
"What are you doing!?"
He place it down and blinked again, standing beside the second three he had killed - a man miraculously murdered and left with his bloodied head sticking through the wood framed lights, swinging slightly from side to side as he hung there idlely.
Five flipped the red dyed axe in his equally ruby hands and killed again, the assassin pulling his axe up from the ground and huffing.
A man sprawled on the table left with only three limbs, another dropping onto the bloodied table after a few moments, a thin long line on the very top of his head suddenly spewing with blood.
Five looked over to the remaining man, Carmichael, and blinked - staying out of sight for a few nerve wracking moments.
The whole place was a mess, crimson heavily decorating it - bodies scattered all over the place like loose sheets of paper that blew away in the wind.
The two concealed boys watching the efficient and deadly assassin slaughter the ten people in horrific fashion felt chills run down their spine - this wasn't just a job, it was a murder mission.
The old teen landed heavily on the end table, right in front of the fish man who had crawled out from beneath and dared to peek at the bloodbath.
The old teen looked down, tilting his head in an almost tantalising way.
"She sent you, didn't she?" He fumed, worry lacing his voice.
"Does it really matter now?" He asked, broken lights behind him sparkling like mini blue fireworks.
"Whatever she offered you, I will double it, triple it." Carmichael spoke quickly and pleadingly, hoping that the offer would spare his puny life.
Five readied his red coated axe, getting prepared to give a powerful swing.
"I'm not doing this for money." He bring it up, ready to steal his life when another woman yelled - jumping and pulling the killer off the table.
The afro lady grunted in a high pitch as Five attempted to squirm out of her tight grasp without out harming her.
"Get off me!"
"Ya gonna pay for that vending machine, little mister!" She shouted loudly in his ear, keeping him in her grasp.
He freed his elbow and bring it semi harshly against her face, effectively shocking her and making the afro lady let go.
"Yeah? I don't wanna hurt you, alright?"
She clenched her sausage like fingers into a fist and swung, hitting Five on the cheek.
He immediately stuck his thumb in his open mouth, pressing the pad of it against his inner cheek - which had started bleeding, the metallic taste of blood spreading lightly.
Cicero hissed slightly, drawing a breath of pain in through clenched teeth- even though he wasn't the one that was injured.
He gave her an annoyed glare, thumb still placed inside his mouth.
"Hurt me? I ain't afraid of you, ya little puss ball!"
Five drew the thumb out of his mouth and turned the hand into a bloody fist, which connected powerfully against her temple - just enough to knock her out for a good couple hours.
He quickly looked around, finding that Carmichael had ran away during the little scuffle.
"Shit."
The old teen jumped up, running towards a mantlepiece that had two sturdy cricket bats glued to it.
He easily pulled it off and ran over, blinking.
The other two Slytherins quickly made their way over to the broken vending machine - figuring that since it was near the exit the fish man would be there.
The panting man's heart rate spiked as the little assassin appeared in front of him, blocking his only means of escape - and brandishing his heavy wooden bat.
Carmichael held his hands up in surrender.
"Surely we can come to some form of agreement that benefits both parties." His wavering voice projected.
"Quid, pro quo? What do you say?"
Five rolled is neck to the side, the bones cracking as he did so.
"Why not?" He said sarcastically, giving another insane smile.
"Here's your quid."
He said as he swung the bat at the fish man's waist painfully.
"Here's your pro"
The bat was moved to the opposite side and brung upon his leg heftily, making him fall to his knees with a cry of agony.
"And here's..." The old teen said as he aligned the sporting equipment against his fish tank head, the man pleading furiously.
" ... Your quo."
"Noooooo!"
The glass shattered, headless body hitting the carpeted floor with a dull thud - water spraying everywhere, smelling greatly like fish.
Two unlucky women walked into the scene, giggling amongst each other - they took a look at the broken glass and the bloodied teen, gasping and quickly walking out, closing the door with to a loud clack - shutting out the upbeat polka music outside.
Five rolled his neck back, glancing up at the plain wooden ceiling before he looked down and sighed, watching Carmichael.
The orange finned animal flapped around pathetically on the floor, opening and closing its mouth as it gasped for breath.
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