Seta sat calmly on the tree brunch, hidden away from the revellers ten metres away by the pool. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out an evelope, a red envelope. He went through the contents then looked through the gap in the leaves. There was no mistaking, they were all here.
Seta flinched with disdain as he looked at the "hippos" by the pool. It made his bowels turn how the hippos had brought so much misfortune yet the languished in luxury. He felt a burning desire to rid the world of these looting and fattened bastards.
But he drew back. He should not act in anger. His role depended on that very fact. Seta was not a soldier. It was hard enough to bring guns into the city, Matondo's militry intelligence service had a vise-hold on arms flow. Even more so now, as this house was within sight of an army barrack. Gunfire-attention too soon. No, Seta was a different kind of man, the kind of man needed for a sure kill. These hippo's were not the primary object but the generals who were with them. Looking dandy in their ceremonial uniforms, fitting funeral garbs.
Seta waited.The music started to play and the revellers began to dance. It wasTchaikovsky's 1812 Overture.Seta waited.
Then he heard four car horns in succession. The signal. It was all set.
Seta sprang from his spot and landed on the soft green lawn. Seta drew his katana and lunged forward. Slicing and hacking. The first three officers never knew. They will never know.
Steady now, he could hear his own breathing getting harder.
The others turned, the general nearest to Seta opened his mouth to yell but that was as far as he got before he was watching his own body running around aimlessly from the soft humid lawn.
A panic arose and the group of officers and generals was in disarray. a state of confusion.
Good for me.
Some of the women rushed for the emergency phones but they were dead. The cellphones were blocked.
Run, run. You can't escape. No way to call for help!
Seta's now only needed to hack down those who were fleeing from the scene as the finale of the Overture played in the fore ground. Amidst the rushing bodies he could see composed figures. Blood splattered in every direction. Seta loved the feel as the katana sank into the blubber of the hippos. He loved it.
A develish smile creased it's way across his face as he thrust through them in a mad frenzy and the overture ends and a low concerto begins.
Suddenly he stopped and looked up, a group of officers had drwan thier cerremonial swords and were challenging him.
Seta did not know if heir swords were real or not. Seta walked over to the spot were the only working pool light was left. he stood still and looked down. the men were hasitant to charge. With summed up courage the men gave a roar and charged. They knew.
As they drew near, the light went out and the figure of Seta disppeared into the darkness. The lead officer's eyes widened and he gasped.
All they saw were glints of metal in the starlight. Glints for a fleeting moment and the umistakable sound of metal crushing bones. And it was all dark.
Seta rushed to the main house and went through all the rooms, killing off any of the people hidding. He did not have the liberty to select women. All of them! There were ministers hidding in closets. a pitiful sight as they offered him money and begged yet the only recedence was the ending of their God forsaken lives.
Seta counted in his mind. On more minister. he walked room to room in silent steps until he came to a curious table. Shoe prints in wet grass led to under the table, Seta flung the table over and the minister ran out the door in a start. Seta was quick behind him and he brought him down with a mad slash across the back. The cry and chym, as if made by a giant toad as the minister fell to his knees.
He looked at Seta through a reflection of him in the pool water. His face was a pleading, tears running down a grown man's cheeks. Seta's katana rose high above him, it glistened in the starlight before it came down in thunderous fury. Fresh blood splattered across Seta's face.
The night was over. Seta looked around him, 17 people. 11 high ranking officers and generals and 6 ministers all were now nothing but scattered bodies drenched in blood and chyme. Putrid but beautiful. History books always rave about political manuavres in starting conflict, this is how they really began. In ernest, a war had just began.