The Contract

“Last, and most important, and definitely the first one you need to put a bullet in, is General Kajil Ilb. Ozean dug up as much information as he could, but so far the only thing he found out is that Kajil Ilb is a griffin. Right now he is pretty old, so about your age, but he should not be underestimated.”

General Kajil Ilb -his colors now faded to light red and gray- sits at his desk with Ausar Jah and Royal Sentry flanking him and a unicorn wearing an armored vest and levitating a mini-Gatling gun. From behind his sunglasses his blue eyes stare intensely at a trio of zebras that have been brought into his office. Though, there is not much to his office.

All it is is a cheap desk with a few chairs -one of which is occupied by him- and an oil painting behind him of a yellow fishing boat being operated by a frog with a cigar, and a squeaking ceiling fan in the center of the ceiling. His desk really has nothing to it, either. All it has is a calender with code words scribbled on the dates and a large, heavy glass bottle filled with red fruit juice and a shot glass to accompany it. There is not even carpet! The floor is just a bunch of slabs of wood glued together and the windowless walls are flimsy enough to where he can hear the thumping and pulsing of techno music and the sounds of partygoers having the times of their lives.

Honestly, Kajil Ilb has made plans to improve his office, but he is hardly ever in it and every time he is in there is usually a mess involved, as evidence of the dark streaks and blotches all over the place. Today will be no different in regards to the uncanny ability of fate to force him into making messes every time he is in. He could smell the fear on the zebras the moment they were shoved into his office by his his two close friends and the unicorn, and he is certain one of the zebras pissed themselves.

“I want to know. I want to know. Just tell me what went wrong for you to go behind my back,” says Kajil Ilb, the side of his revolver turning against his skull like a wheel. “Was it money? Did I not pay you enough?”

“We just had enough,” says the center zebra.

The pistol stops cold and Kajil Ilb stares at the zebra, his expression blank.

“You had enough?” repeats Kajil Ilb.

The zebra nods, mouthing: “Yes.”

“Enough of what? You don't like the music? The food? The free pass of being a hooligan?”

“No, sir,” says the left zebra. “We just can't do this any more.”

An ear cracking POP echoes in the room and the zebra's head jerks back with a circle of blood, bone and brain splattered on the wall behind him. The other two scream and leap away as their friend collapses with a hole in his head, but the unicorn in the room cocks his weapon and forces the two to go back to their original spots.

“How hard is it to give an answer?” says Kajil Ilb, his voice cold like a corpse, his pistol smoking and his eyes narrowing in on the sniffling and whimpering duo. “I ask a question. I want an answer. A real answer. I want a real answer with real reasons. Its not hard. Its not-” He takes a deep breath and looks down, briefly running his talons through his plumage and then pressing his fist into his beak. Another breath is taken and he looks at the pair. “Its not- Its not hard. Just tell the truth.”

The two are silent, save for their continued sniffling and whimpering. Their bodies shake and streaks of tears shine their cheeks. They want to move from the corpse and the growing pool of blood next to them, but fear has locked them in place.

He raises his brow impatiently and aims his pistol at the pair. “Should I shoot one of you?”

“No!” they say in unison, their hoofs snapping up.

“Then talk.”

“We were with Ausar Jah in the Wheatlands. He just finished selling a beast to the army,”' says the zebra on the right. “They used it on the ponies. It was terrible.”

Kajil Ilb nods. “Yes, the point of selling 'the beast' as you so inaccurately call it was so they could use it. But are you saying to me that you participated in a very special event, felt bad about it, and then decided to steal my money, some of my guns and ammo, and then run away?”

“But, sir, if you saw what they did you would understand!” says the zebra on the left. “It was awful, even by our standards.”

Another loud POP and the zebra falls with a chunk of his head missing and his bits splattered on the surviving zebra. The survivor is now pale and trembling to the point of collapse, and his cheeks are drenched in tears as Kajil Ilb stares into his bloodshot eyes, his pistol smoking again.

“Awful by our standards?” Kajil Ilb hums and forcefully scrapes the chair against the floor as he pushes his seat back. The scraping of wood against wood brings a pained wince to the zebra and the ears of his companions twitch slightly, but other than that they remain still. “That's interesting. Really interesting, actually.”

Kajil Ilb circles the zebra slowly, uncaring as he steps in the blood or on the corpse. The zebra is stiff. Tears splatter to the floor and his eyes stare at the painting behind the griffin's desk. But he zebra's eyes break away from the picture with a sharp inhale when Kajil Ilb places his hand on top of the zebra's head and gives it a squeeze that digs his talons into his scalp.

“You cannot pretend to have standards since you joined me,” says Kajil Ilb. “You knew about me. You knew what you were getting into when you came here. You cannot play victim because of your choices. Life is just not like that.”

Kajil Ilb then shoves his pistol in the zebra's mouth and pulls the trigger. The back of his head explodes and gore splashes on the ceiling, and the zebra hangs limp in his grip. After Kajil Ilb releases him the zebra crumbles to the floor in a heap and the griffin sits at his desk, sighing as he places his pistol on his desk.

Silence moves into the room. Only the cyclical slices of air from the ceiling fan and rhythmic thumping of the outside music accompanied by cheers and laughter bring any sort of sound into the room.

After some seconds of stillness, Kajil Ilb looks at his shirt and sees that blood has gotten on his sleeve. He mentally shrugs it off and pours himself a shot of fruit punch. After gulping it down he slams his shot glass on the table, whoops and chuckles as he runs his bloody talons through the large feathers on his head, leaving streaks of red.

“Wow, that was crazy, yes?” says Kajil Ilb.

“Very much,” says Ausar Jah.

Royal Sentry nods quickly, swallowing and barely able to speak. "Yeah... Crazy."

Kajil Ilb snaps his talons at the guard. “You. Grab the maids, have them clean this mess up, and, um-” He looks at Ausar Jah and Royal Sentry. “Lets go dancing. I'm pumped!”

“Luckily for you, I got it all figured out so that killing him will be quick and easy. You kill him and his leadership, you cripple the enterprise, and we're free from Ozean. All will be well in the end.”