The Story of Death – Opening Scene
Jimmy didn't ask questions.
That's why The Skull paid him.
A package. A warehouse. An address that smelled like trouble. Jimmy watched two idiots screaming at each other across the street, one of them wearing a novelty skull mask like it made him hard. He sighed, flicked the lighter, and slid into his car.
As he pulled out, something crossed his rearview mirror.
White. Still. Watching.
Jimmy jerked the wheel, heart hammering, then laughed it off.
"Jesus," he muttered. "I gotta lay off the coke."
An hour later, he rolled up to the warehouse. Music thumped inside. Laughter. Too loud. Too confident. The kind of place where money moved fast and brains didn't.
Jimmy called his boss.
"I'm here."
Click.
He stared at the phone.
"Dickhead," he said, pocketing it.
He left the car running.
As Jimmy shut the door and walked toward the warehouse, the trunk of his car popped open behind him.
Something stepped out.
Inside, the air was thick with sweat, smoke, and bad decisions. Cards slapped tables. Powder disappeared up noses. Strippers laughed too loudly for men they hated. Jimmy dropped the package at the back table and turned to leave.
That's when the power died.
Not a flicker. Not a warning.
Dead.
Music cut mid-note. Voices choked off. The room inhaled and forgot how to exhale.
"Find the circuit breaker," someone barked.
A gunshot answered instead.
Then another.
Muzzle flashes lit the room like broken lightning. Screams followed. Bodies hit the floor. Jimmy fell with them, hands over his head, ears ringing. Blood sprayed the walls. Furniture splintered. Someone laughed. Soft. Almost playful.
The lights came back on.
Ten bodies. Twisted. Still. Two women slumped against a table, eyes empty. Blood everywhere. And in the middle of it, a man in a dark overcoat stood perfectly calm.
White mask.
Dried blood cracked across it like old paint.
He giggled.
He walked toward Jimmy, slow, deliberate, stepping around corpses like furniture.
"Hey," the man said gently, kneeling. "Wrong place. Wrong time. Bygones, yeah?"
Jimmy reached for his hand.
The punch came out of nowhere. Pain exploded across his face.
"TALK."
Jimmy froze.
The man's head tilted. Annoyed.
A sudden wrench. Fingers digging into nerves. Jimmy screamed.
"AGHHH. WHO'S YOUR LEADER. WHO."
The gun went off.
Jimmy's kneecap vanished.
"AGHHH IT'S THE SKULL," he sobbed. "IT'S THE FUCKING SKULL OKAY"
The man sighed in relief and knelt closer, patting Jimmy's face like a child.
"Good boy."
Jimmy tried to crawl.
Tried to scream.
"No. No. No. No. No—"
Gunshots.