Pushing open the door to his appartment, Tristen threw the plans for the drug on the table. They would be safe until he got the stentch of death off of him. It had been many years since Tristen had had to endour the reek of blood soaked clothes. This redued memory now vividly playing in his mind was no more welcome than his ever pressing nightmares. Slipping his clothes from his body, Tristen headed to take a shower and wash the blood from his body.
As the water pours accross his body the blood washed away from his body. Tristen's mind nagged at him unhinderingly. Not for the blood he had just slipt, no that blood was justified. For the blood of the innocents he had taken many years past. Their faces haunted his thoughts at all times, and more so when the sight of death met Tristen's eyes. No amount of washing would take that blood from his hands.
Finishing in the shower, Tristen went to look over the item he had stolen from the safe. Turning the pages over he began to see an outline in his mind of how to make the drugs. It was very simple, to Tristen at least, and would be easy to make if he had the right tools and materials. Smiling to himself, Tristen put the papers away in a safe place and layed down in bed. "They will be happy to learn of my success," Tristen said aloud to himself, before closing his eyes and falling to sleep.
Shots fired all around Tristen. Smoke filled the air making it hard to see or breath. Turning from side to side, Tristen tryed to get his barings back. People ran for their lives in a kind of panic that reminded one of a herd of zebras fleeing from lions. Tristen watched in horror as he saw his own hand raise with a gun and fire on the people. The bullet struck a woman running away on his right. Falling on to the ground, she lay there motionless. Than Tristen began letting off shot after shot, taking down one person after the next.
Changing the clip in his gun, Tristen began walking through the village, searching for anyone who might be hiding. Entering a taddered looking home, Tristen exploried the building. A soft grasp caught his ear. There was someone here. Pushing away a cloth door, Tristen discovered a frighten woman grasping onto her child in her arms. Her eyes widen in terror at the sight of Tristen in the doorway.
Tristen pointed the gun at the woman and child. Screaming pleads for her life in a language Tristen did not know, the woman started crying as she pulled her child closer to her chest. Hesitating a second Tristen looked carefully at the woman. She wasn't more than a child, couldn't have been older than sixteen. The child she that was clung to her chest wasn't more than perhaps two. Tears ran down her face and the pleads softened into a soft muttering moan as she believed herself to be spared. Two shots were fired from Tristen's gun and the sound of the screams cut short shattered the air.
Sitting up sharply in bed, Tristen grasp for breath. Head twisting all around looking for the village, the woman, the child. Another nightmare, he told himself, just a nightmare. It had been at least a week since Tristen had had this bad of a nightmare. The days events must have triggered the thoughts in his subconscience again. Whipping the sweat from his face Tristen tried to regain control of himself.
Laying back down, Tristen's mind ran wild with the images he had just saw in his dreams. It was as if he was actually there. The woman's cry, the look of terror on her face, it was all just like it was that day. Chills ran down his body as more memories came flooding back to him. These thoughts would plague Tristen til his dieing day. "Why do I even bother?" Tristen asked himself, "I can never repay the debut I've made... But perhaps if I try, the nightmares will let me get some sleep." Closing his eyes once again, Tristen returned to sleep.