The moon was hidden somewhere behind the demons in the sky. The earth was soaked by the rain waters that formed a solid sheet of haze. The dogs and the snakes had miraculously disappeared from the streets and the land it seemed. The few brave souls that had ventured out of their doors had had their courage and enthusiasm dampened. The electricity poles had fallen amongst themselves in dozens in numerous places. The strongest of the winds had laid bare the tree trunks that stayed rooted to the ground faithfully and painfully. The fields that had been laden with crops a few days ago were ruined.
It had been raining for the last fifteen days। Neither the moon nor the sun had managed to penetrate the vast black shield of clouds। The cyclone had brought unseasonable rains that had swept everything in their path and had formed a river in the low lying areas where the trees and poles made a regular appearance amongst the numerous dead bodies of man and animal alike। It had been declared a natural disaster in the political circles of the capital of the huge nation. And yet no news, no aid reached the distant village in any form, to any possible survivors.
And yet tonight, a man walked in the cyclonic winds through the waterfall of rain along a little used street of the village. He carried an automatic machine gun at his shoulder strapped tightly to his shoulder. The belt of bullets he carried was ready to be used. The revolver he carried had only two bullets and was thus considerably lighter than when the man had started initially. The hunting knife, hidden and yet easily accessible was flapped in its shield and bore only a tinge of red of the blood of the last flesh it had touched. The man had no time to clean his favorite weapon. Who in this forgotten, god forsaken village could be powerful and important enough to need a guard of such ferocity? For that matter who in this village could be powerful and important enough to be assassinated?
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