#2 heard the shots and cautiously peered around the corner. He saw #62 laying on the ground as the police officer pulled his injured partner back through the door. He was yelling into his radio. “Shots fired!” he cried. “Shots fired! I’ve got one man down and need backup. I need full armor backup!”
#2 could not take his eyes off the corpse of #62. With one death, his confidence evaporated and fear raced in to fill the void. “My God!” he exclaimed softly. “They’re going to kill us all!”
#2 turned around to face his crowd of brothers. All of them stood, motionless, with the same horrific look of terror. The scene was sickening. No variety, they truly were all the same. #2 knew they were all thinking the same thing.
“Start looking for other ways out,” #2 ordered with a voice that crackled with fear, but none of them moved.
“We should give ourselves up,” one of them suggested.
“Maybe they’ll listen if we explain,” another offered.
#2 felt his power slipping away. In the short time he’d grown used to the power, and could bear to give it up. “We just shot a police officer,” he argued. “They’re not going to stop and listen.”
“We didn’t shoot a police officer,” one of them argued. “That one did, and he’s dead now.”
“We could blame him for the other killings,” #12 suggested. “That he held the rest of us hostage.”
But #2’s nerves had already yielded to fear. He drew his gun and pointed at the others. “I said,” he growled. “Look for another way out.” The others did not move. He fired once, killing #33. The others still remained frozen in fear. He fired again, killing #78. It sickened him that no matter how many he killed, there would still be more of them with that expression of horror. #2 started to shake.
#24 drew his gun and shot #2, killing him. He then walked over to the couch and turned on the TV to the weather channel, but the weather girl was not scheduled to come on for another six hours. The rest filed out of the dorms and surrendered to the SWAT team that had just breached the building.
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