End held the camera ahead of him as he approached the school. The picture shook and bounced as he skipped, the sound of gravel crunching and scattering underfoot loud and clear to the camera.
Even as the picture shook and bounced, the large, solid brick building and oddly clean sign reading ‘Greene Middle School’ could be seen clearly enough. And so could the man in the broken top floor window. He was dressed all in black with a rifle on his back. In the still silent world his voice easily carried to End, “hey, kid! Are you all alone?”
Slowly End’s left hand raised into the view of the camera, his fingers curled back, thumb up, and index finger pointed at the man. “Bang!” End shouted cheerfully, ‘firing’ his finger gun.
The man’s head jerked back, there was a small spray of blood and the man fell backwards. End started walking, at a normal pace this time, the camera trained on the window. There were muffled shouts the camera’s microphone couldn’t quite pick up and finally another person appeared in the window, pointing a gun at End. But the person hesitated, perhaps because what they saw was an unarmed child. But that hesitation was a fatal mistake. End fired his finger gun once more. Just like their companion before them, their head jerked back as if they’d been shot in the forehead. Their body slumped in the window and the gun fell to the ground.
When a few seconds had passed and no more heads had popped into the window, End turned the camera over, his smiling face upside down in the camera’s view, “Two down!”
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End walked up the steps to the barricaded front doors of the school, the camera now pointed to the front again. Once again his left hand came into frame. His slender, pale fingers splayed out against the cold, gray metal door. He pushed with a little bit of pressure but it didn’t budge. He sighed behind the camera, then stepped over to the side. The camera’s view shook and jerked around and for a moment it wasn’t very clear what End was doing.
For a second or two amongst the nausea inducing visuals, it looked like End was propping up Mr. Hopscotch against the stair railing. Then he placed the camera on Mr. Hopscotch’s lap, angling it up so that it was pointed at the door.
He crouched in front of it, blocking almost it’s entire frame with his body. He hugged his knees to his chest with one arm and threw up a peace sign with the other, while grinning a wide grin full of teeth, “watch this!”
End stood up with a bounce, stumbling back a few steps as if off balance, then he wound up and kicked the doors.
His foot didn’t actually connect with the double doors but still they exploded inwards.
A few seconds later a woman brandishing a fireman’s ax over her head ran out screaming. She swung downwards with the ax, right at End’s head. He smoothly dodged to the side. Before she could raise the ax to swing again, her arms were severed at the elbows with no obvious move by End. He spun to dodge the spray of blood and get behind her. Her screams of fear and rage turned into screams of pain but End didn’t leave her to suffer long. His back to the camera, he pressed his left index finger to the back of her head and said, “bang!” An unseen bullet passed through her skull, exploding out her forehead and she fell dead on the stairs.
End turned to the open doors and called out, “oh? Are we playing hide and seek now?” before skipping in, leaving the camera and Mr. Hopscotch alone outside to watch the dead woman’s blood flow down the stairs.