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“…the evidence wracks up, Your Honor,” Mr. Bavard continued, making his conclusionary statement. “The defendant has been using immoral and illegal undertakings in his actions. And the eyewitness has testified. This man is guilty by the looks of it all and—”
Drone drone drone, Hakuma thought absentmindedly. The guy had been talking for nearly three-quarters of an hour, ranting on about his lackluster evidence and silly proofs. This whole affair had to be one of the most entertaining situations he’d ever been in. Watching three men argue over him, ah, how he loved being the center of attention. And the best thing was that he didn’t regret it one bit; it had been his duty after all, and he’d be more than happy to go to jail. There was free food there, after all.
“Thank you for the input,” the judge, an older-looking man, spoke with a polite nod. He turned to face the defendant. “Mr. Hakuma, do you wish to declare anything before the jury goes off?”
Hakuma pushed a hand through his sleek, black hair, spreading his legs to make himself more comfortable in his chair. A smug grin crept up on the man’s face.
“The act was for the greater good,” he smirked, letting out a harsh laugh. “I can assure you I was only helping the society.”
And that was true, the task he was obligated to, that he gave his entire life towards, would only be for the better of mankind.
…
“Come on!” a group of men cheered loudly.
They were all crowded around a large playing table, five of them in total, alongside a woman dressed in a lavish, burgundy dress at the center. The men watched in excited anticipation as a silver ball zoomed across a wooden roulette wheel. A can of beer was in each of their hands, empty ones discarded across the floor, the last drips of the alcohol seeping into the bright red carpet. The ball still spun across the board, making multiple laps before it slowed and landed on—
A frustrated groan left them all simultaneously as the tiny ball came to a stop on the red twenty-one.
“Aw Jacob!” a man with a thick accent exclaimed disappointedly, “that’s the ninth round ya lost t’night!”
Jacob hid his face in hands, crushing his now empty can in his hand. The group jokingly mourned their friend’s loss, giving him light shoulder pats, but laughing at his misery all the while.
“Play again?” the woman at their table asked, a flirty smile on her face. She picked up the playing chips from the table and stacked them neatly, hands folded in front of her.
Jacob raised his head, his face an even deeper shade of maroon than it had been before. “N-no thanks,” he spluttered, shaking his head.
“Tenth time’s the charm!”
“Nah that’s alright miss,” the tallest of the group declined politely, his speech somewhat slurred, “we best be goin’ home.”
The woman nodded curtly. “Then please let me see you out. It’s rather dangerous outside at this hour.”
She turned on her heels, leading the group to the exit. The men tossed their finished cans onto the table and pocketed any spare cash they still had. They made their way through the casino, chattering loudly. It wasn’t a small venue, but it was fairly empty and not the cleanest place ever, making the building feel more rundown. The party had made it to the door in no time.
“This isn’t the main exit,” the woman said, opening a backdoor for them. It creaked on its rusty hinges, “but the back roads will be safer than the main streets, there’s always creepy people around.”
An amalgamation of ‘thank you’s rang throughout the group. The men walked out. The shortest out of them all, particularly one who was redder in the face than the others, fell into a languid bow, taking the lady in the dress’s hand.
“Thank you for your kind work tonight ma’am,” he breathed, placing a light kiss on her hand.
“Arlo!” the accented man yelped, pulling his friend away with a wide grin on his face. “Quit flirtin’ with her!”
The woman smiled, and the group stumbled off into the night.
“Bye miss! We’ll see you again soon!” one of them called out and waved.
“Yes,” the lady huffed, watching them leave. As soon as all of their backs were turned, her courteous smile slowly crept up into something almost like a devilish smirk. “Though I’m sure you won’t be back too soon,” she muttered under her breath, closing the door and heading back inside.
The men walked down an empty back street. It was much darker than the main road since there were no streetlights, and multiple alleyways led off to other worn-down buildings.
“Look, there’s some birds,” Jacob pointed out, the winged animals perched atop a ripped awning.
“…eleven, twelve, thirteen—golly thirteen birds!” one of them with a bottle of beer still in his hand counted. “Are those crows? Those aren’t common ‘round here.”
“C’mere birdy birds,” Arlo cooed, skipping towards them. “Birdy bird birds.”
The tallest sighed. “No, Arlo, leave the things alone.”
“Listen ta Lloyd now, Ari’” the man with the gruff accent barked out a laugh, “wouldn’ want t’ upset them flock right?”
“Actually,” a new voice called out from behind them, making them all jump, “a group of crows is called a murder.”
They all turned on the spot. A guy they had never seen before stood before them. He wore a fine, black suit, complemented with a blue tie and professional-looking shoes. His black hair was slick backed neatly, and he carried a black case.
“Gosh sir, you scared us!” Arlo exhaled in relief.
“Apologies,” the man replied tersely. “I just happened to see you’ve been on quite a losing streak with cards tonight and—”
“Well, you see,” the man with the can piped up, “our here Jacob is one of the unluckiest people alive so—”
“I would like to make an offer,” the gentleman with the briefcase continued as if no one had interrupted him. “If you all are willing to accept it.”
The group exchanged glances. This mysterious person seemed a bit suspicious; he had come out of nowhere after all. If they had been more sober, they would’ve turned down his offer, but right now they were desperate to win something, and they were having too much fun tonight. After all, what’s life without a little fun?
Lloyd answered when they had silently come to an agreement.
“Why not,” he said.
A slight smile settled on the man’s face. “Excellent. Sit down, shall we?”
“What can we call ya mister?”
“Hakuma, if you please.”
They took their seats on the ground where they had stood, right in the middle of the deserted stone pathway.
“S’what’s this offer, Mr. Hakuma?” Jacob asked.
Hakuma settled on his knees, hands folded on his lap and case laid in front of him. “We’ll play a little game. With a wager, of course. If you win, to each of you will go a surfeit of prize money.”
Excited gasps and murmurs left the attentively listening group.
“But should you lose…” Hakuma carried on, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth and shaking his head slightly.
He placed his hands on his briefcase, opening the clasps with a snap. He lifted the top, the men around him peering around it to see what was inside. Each of their eyes widened accordingly when Hakuma pulled out a revolver.
“Well then,” he started, looking up from the weapon, a grin plastered onto his face, “who would like to play?”
The party opposite the man turned to look at each other. They had no intention of backing out, the ‘game’ sounded far too interesting for their poorly-judgment abled minds to pass up, but who would get the honor of playing?
“Definitely not Jacob,” Lloyd recommended, patting the former’s head who shook it fervently in agreement.
“Ed, you wanna?”
“Nah, I’m just’s unlucky as Jacob,” the man with the can rejected. “I think Wade would do the best.”
“’M down,” Wade told them with a shrug.
Cheers erupted from the group. Wade shuffled to the front of them so he was sitting directly across from Hakuma.
“Wonderful. The game is fairly simple,” Hakuma explained, picking up the revolver, opening the cylinder, and placing a single iron bullet in. “Russian roulette. We each take turns,” he spun and closed the cylinder with a snap, “spin the cylinder before each one,” cocked the gun, “and…”
Hakuma raised the revolver to his head. He placed it firmly on one side of his temple and pulled the trigger. A clicking sound emerged from it, but nothing else happened. The man lowered the weapon and offered it out, a smug and that’s how it goes look on his face.
Wade took the gun, sliding the cylinder out and giving it a spin. He pushed it in and put it on his head as Hakuma had done, his companions watching in suspense behind him. The trigger was pulled, and again, a quiet chink sound went off, and nothing else. The men all celebrated their friend’s victory, laughing loudly.
Hakuma took the revolver back, repeating the same routine. This procedure continued multiple times, the gun only making odd clicking sounds every turn. The party of men cheered loudly whenever Wade succeeded, all of them held in anticipation. Everything carried on smoothly, that is, until Wade’s fourth turn.
Wade replaced the head of the weapon to his own, but this time when he pulled the trigger—
BANG!
Everybody save for Hakuma screamed. Wade sagged forward, limp, blood pouring from his head. He was dead.
“Holy shit—!”
“Wade!”
“Pity,” Hakuma sighed, his tone far from his words. “And he was such a great opponent too.”
Lloyd quickly stumbled to his feet. “Go go! Get up now this guy’s insane!” he shouted, ushering the others to skedaddle.
The men stood as fast as they could, sprinting like a bullet out of the dark alley, leaving their friend to bleed out.
“Take care!” Hakuma called after, a grin like a Cheshire cat spread across his face.
He pried the dead man’s hand off of his revolver, wiping it clean with a handkerchief before stowing it back in his case. He looked up when he heard a twig break from behind him.
“You scared them off then?” the woman in the dark red dress from before said, hands on her hips.
Hakuma scoffed, gracefully getting to his feet. “Got them shaking in their boots.”
“I’m sure they won’t be gambling any time soon.”
“One foul deed for the better of mankind,” Hakuma agreed with a stiff nod.
“See you tomorrow?”
“Nah, I got a call from a few towns over, near the city. I’ll stay there for a few days.”
“Alright then, I’m heading off,” the woman finished the conversation. She placed two fingers over her lips. “For the greater good.”
Hakuma followed in the same gesture. “For the greater good. Call me if my assistance is needed.”
“Sure. Good night.”
“To you as well madam. Drive safely.”
With a short bow out of courtesy, Hakuma headed off, exiting the alleyways and towards the main road, briefcase in hand. He called a taxi over and quite literally hopped in.
“The city, if you could,” Hakuma told the driver.
And with that he was gone, the only sign he’d been there being the body still lying in the dark back street.
…
Hakuma pulled at the sleeves of his orange jumpsuit. It wasn’t as comfortable as his normal suit, but it could do for now. He walked around the large common hall of the prison. The ceiling vaulted high at the middle; wooden beams stretched across the room from either side. The place was rather nice, especially with all the natural light coming in through the windows. Twenty years would be nothing. As soon as he was out, he’d continue his noble work.
He noticed the other prisoners were gathered in a tight circle, all yelling excitedly. Hakuma stalked over, the edges of his lips curling upwards when he picked up what they were doing.
“Gentlemen,” he declared unhesitatingly, all of the men in the circle turning to stare at him. “Pardon the interruption, but may I interest you in a little game? It’s fairly simple