I walked around, putting my gun in the air and shooting repeatedly. People scattered, running towards the store shelves to hide. “Nobody move!” I bellowed, shooting again for emphasis. My pistol clicked, telling me I needed a new magazine. I slid a new magazine into my Grand Power K100 and pulled it up. “I am Amaranthine Tiger. I cannot die and have never been beaten in combat. I am a master in taekwondo, jujitsu, karate, and kung fu. I am able to kill all of you in thirty different way with a plastic spoon. If anyone would like to come here now and will help me find what I'm looking for, come here now. I am in the deli counter's vicinity.”
I stood there, and minutes passed. I glanced at my watch, I was getting impatient. “If no one come out now, I will blow this whole place up, I have a plane on standby carrying a prototype bomb that could, no will, destroy this whole town and everyone in it.” I paused, waiting for a volunteer. I looked at the beige walls, wondering who had to paint them that terrible color. I looked to the shelves once more, looking at all the Christmas decorations that lined them wall-to-wall.
I wondered if these people had families who were worried, who thought they were going to die. I felt a pang of regret that I might have to kill these people, but I swallowed that feeling. I thought about what the Commander would say if he heard that I had pity. He would've shot my leg for that.
I heard movement, so I spun on my heels and brought up my K100. I saw a man, walking with his hands in the air. I scanned him over, looking for concealed weapons. I noticed a small nodule protruding from his hip. Apparently someone found the gun section. I thought, laughing to myself silently. I looked him in the eye, “Sir, what's your name?”
He cautiously looked around, stammering, “Your, you're a... a” He started.
“Answer me maggot!” I expounded, my tone telling him game time was over before it began.
“Well it's Ryan.” The man cajoled. He suddenly lunged, but I knew it was coming. I spun sideways, tripping him mid-spin and sending him sprawling over the linoleum floor. He lay there for a second, then rolled over to face me, gun in hand. It was a M1911. I knew the gun like the back of my hand.
“Fine choice in firearm my friend. Although, I am far more skilled then you in the art of shooting. I aimed at his head, cocking the hammer for good measure. He looked at me, moving the gun up to my helmet, pulling the trigger and sending a silver bullet into my brain. It pinged of my helmet, hitting a window and shattering it like a dropped plate. “Idiot, my helmet is bulletproof!” He shied away, tossing the gun into the corner. “Insolent scoundrel! I let you live and this is how you repay me! With a bullet!” I snarled, bringing up my gun to his nose. He lurched, running down the Christmas isle I'd admired earlier.
I pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting it's mark. Ryan slumped down, a flower of crimson blood blossoming under his head. I grabbed his hair, yanking it upward. I reached down and jammed my thumb onto a blue button my wrist. I heard a click, telling me my jet pack was emerging from my backpack. I pressed a few buttons on my pack to initiate flight. I waiting, pulling Ryan's body up off the ground with me. I slowly lingered above all the shelves so I could gaze over the area of the store. I looked around, seeing everyone cowering behind counters and racks.
“Ya see! Do you see this! If you don't want this to happen to you, I would suggest the weapons are put down, along with any means of contacting the outside world!” I demanded. I floated there, hearing the echo of racks, guns, and bats among others being improvised as weapons.
I casually descended. I knew the Infiltrators had hidden plastic explosives in the dairy aisle. I walked through the rows, looking in side unit after unit of frozen food. I came across something in the milk unit and pulled out the jug. It's lid was screwed on wrong. I wrenched off the cap, looking inside for the hazardous material. I saw it floating, so I took my switchblade and cut it open. Alabaster milk spilled onto the tile, splashing and sloshing around my boots.
I grabbed the explosives, dropping the flask and running back to where I hid Ryan's body in the baby corridor. I grabbed it, never slowing down to no more then a run. I tripped over a fishing wire, falling into a roll but dropping the corpse. I landed right back on my feet and went back for the body. I hurriedly grasped for the body before seeing a mountain of wine and beer bottle come crashing down. I sprinted on, returning to the deli section in record time.
I threw him lazily onto the counter, pulling the explosives out of my thigh pocket. I took out my combat knife and flicked it open, expertly slicing the shirt open. I grabbed the C-4, cutting a small piece to shove down the throat. I cut another piece, shoving it into the cut shirt. I put larger pieces in the pant pockets and shoes. I was ready.
I walked to the entrance, seeing the police cars. I dropped the body, walking to the adjacent office supplies and grabbing a notepad and pen. I tore the wrapping off the pad, ripping a pen out of the box. I scribbled a single worded note:
Surprise
I stole the firing pin out of Ryan's M1911, still in the corner. I used it to stick the not to his jacket. Hefting the body on my shoulder, I waited. After a minute's hesitation, I grabbed the corpse's foot and hurled him into the glass doors. It crashed through, the shattered glass falling like snow. I waited while I watched the police walk over to the carcass. They saw the note, running away from the hazard.
They weren't fast enough.
I clicked the detonator on my wrist, sending Ryan's body into a pillar of flame. I felt a wave of heat more intense then anything I’d ever felt before wash over me. I bathed in the heat, impressed with my idea. The guys at HQ said I could use if for what ever I wanted. And I did.
I finally could get back to my mission now that the authorities were taken care of. I strolled back to the electronics section of the store, searching the rows for the people held captive in the building.
I was walking down a toy aisle and admiring some of the play weapons companies make, thinking how much better an M4 is then a Nerf Raider CS-35, which shoots foam instead of bullets. I heard the familiar whir of a helicopter's rotors and looked up, “What the?” I thought aloud. Then I saw it: an electronic helicopter, flying over the rows and searching for me. I was wondering why it was because it didn’t seem to have any means of video. I was looking it over and saw a hand-held video camera attached with duct tape to the landing skids. I knew they were watching me. They had to.
After it flew by on the next pass, I carefully scaled the rack and perched like a hawk on a mountainside. I waited, grabbing a throwing knife from a pocket on my vest when the 'copter made it's return run. I tensed, poised to strike. It passed by me, speeding up as it narrowly missed my face with it's rotor. I flung the object, hitting the mark: the rotor base. It sliced the tube open, the airship spinning out of control. But while throwing my knife, I knocked the shelf off balance and it was now shaking like a bull aiming to throw off the rider. I jumped, landing on the next shelf. It too began to topple so I jumped again. And again. And again. The helicopter flew over me, spinning around like a hula hoop around a child's waist. I reached up, grabbing the knife and flinging the 'copter into the ground. I fell forward, rolling to the side so the toppling shelf wouldn’t land on me. I felt a flare of pain, seeing the crimson liquid seep from my hand. Crap. I thought, thinking how stupid I was for rolling with it in my hand.
I wiped off the knife, sliding it back into my bandolier. I put some gauze on my palm, although it would be healed in a few hours. That was another cool thing, I healed quicker then the average male at their healthiest. Already the pain seemed to crawl back into it's hellhole.
I turned my head, taking in my surrounding. It turns out I was in the proximity of the electronics counter; which was where my informant had said the microchip was.
That's what I was after: a microchip with the command codes to get into the Pentagon. I don't know why it's in here, but it is. My mission: take over the store and steal the microchip, kill any involved. Do not harm civilians unless engaged. I remember the day I was assigned this mission like it was only yesterday......
It was three months ago...
I walked into the conference room of Mind Warp Inc., surveying the inhabitants of the room for possible weapons, escape routes, and threats, as I do in every room I encounter. I walked to my already designated chair. I sat down, relaxing in the plush leather.. I waited, looking down at my watch: 5:00 a.m., right on time. Where is everyone? I thought, sitting up straight. I heard the door-handle being turned, so I looked towards it.
I stood up, “Commander Necro,” I said, saluting him.
I looked him in the eye, seeing the color: black as night. He saluted back, “At ease Exterminator 1,” He replied, using my project name. He sat at the table's head chair. Another man came in, whom I knew as Dr. Robert Camol. He sat at the seat across from me. He kicked me, saying in Morse Code: You okay? It was always like him to see if I was okay, he was the one who created me, he was like a father to me. Yeah, I feel fine. I tapped back. Next into the room was Sargent Camilla Weaver; my weapons instructor. Then came the final member of the Exterminator Committee: Mr. David Revolv, an ex-marine and billionaire who made his money off explosives he created himself then sold to the American Military. He funded the entire project, giving millions to the project, along with hundreds of hours helping building the main focus: me.
He walked over to his chair, looking at us all but continuing to stand. He started talking, “Ladies and gentleman, today I have the key to our success: an informant has told me that a microchip with the command codes to the Pentagon is hidden somewhere withing out reach: a local supermarket. I have been told it's hidden there because no one would think to look. It was the perfect hiding spot; until now. I have called you all here today since you have helped Eliminator 1 progress to the skills he has today.” Revolv said, sitting down in his cushy leather chair.
I looked around the plain room, observing that every eye in the room was on me. “Thank you Mr. Revolv. I am very proud to have advanced as far as I have today. I am sure I am ready to do the task. But I only have one condition,” I stood up, glancing at the inhabitants of the room.
“Now what may that be Eliminator 1?” David said.
“I want a name.” I said blankly, “I don’t always wanna be referred to as Eliminator 1, I want a name. A good one.”
“What name would you like?”
“Robert.” I had always admired that name, and wanted it as mine.
“Sure, but AFTER the mission is completed.”
“Yes sir. Understood.”
“You will be fully prepared for the mission at a later date. Dismissed.”
I stood up, walking slowly out of the room, a smile spreading across my perfect face. I flung the door open, walking down the hall.
I also remembered Jessica.
I kept hearing shots down the range behind the door I traipsed by, the sound of ricochet telling me it was obviously a new recruit. I walked in, silently closing the door. I walked over, waiting to approach the shooter until she was done.
She put down the gun, taking off the ear protectors and pulling out a new magazine. “Hello,” I said as I walked over, putting a hand on her shoulder. She spun around, putting the gun to my head.
I looked around, hoping no one was around. I slid away, pointing towards the mag on the table. “Ya know, there is no magazine in the gun.”
“Oh yeah, duh,” She stuttered, staring at me with eyes like diamonds. She shook her head, focusing on me. I focused on her.
“So are you new here?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“Yeah, you could say that. I'm Eliminator II, have you make Eliminator I yet?” She asked, unknowing to my identity.
“I think I have, let me check,” I looked down at myself, then replied, “Yep, sure have.”
She laughed, looking at me like a lion stalking it's prey, “You? Your Eliminator 1?” She asked, mouth agape.
“The one and only,” I said, humored to hear her laugh. I smiled, showing her my teeth, genetically engineered to be perfect.
“Your teeth are perfect, like pearls of the highest intensity,” She said, the weight of the compliment like a brick on me. I've never been complimented before.
“My dinky teeth are nothing compared to your eyes. They're like the ocean, an endless wave of lovely, lovely blue.” I said, and we started throwing around compliments like baseball players in a game.
She blushed as red as fire, “Well, thank you Eliminator 1, that's very kind.”
“You deserve it.” I walked forward, putting my hand on her neck, flipping her long locks of gold away from her head. I leaned in, my lips touching hers. I kissed her, and it was the best thing I've ever done. I put my hands on her neck, her's on my waist. We stood there, kissing for so long I couldn't breathe.
I liked it.
We spun, blocking the way for any shooters trying to practice. I pulled away, my brain a mess of sparks. She looked at me, eyes wide for a moment. She smiled and I returned the favor. She grabbed my hand, and together we walked around the complex, going towards the exit. We got there, but an armored guard stopped us.
“What da you guys want?” He snapped, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“We are going to go out, and we will only be gone and hour, probably two.”
“Okay then, by 5 o'clock you will be back.”
“5:30.” I chimed in, trying to make him buckle.
“Whatever,” He spat. Then we walked out into the perfect sunny day.
I mean, it's usually the boy who puts his hands on the girl's waist while the girl keeps her hands on the boy's neck.
It's the part of the story that makes the invisible bond between the writer and the reader. It's the best way to express what you imagine so that they can imagine the same thing too. So, good descriptions here and there can do your story a whole lot better. 
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