Grey was by far the predominant color in Freelon. The sky, the streets, the clothes, the people, everything and everyone was grey. As far back as he could remember Jenk's shirt and pants had always been grey.

Of course, there were many tones of grey, but it still had a depressing feeling to it. On the other hand, the black and white movies were all the more accurate. Jenk enjoyed going to the shabby movie theatre on Sunday afternoons. They would play classic American films and something they called "news", that were mostly real-action shot during wars.

The films were always 10 years old; it kept a certain distance between Freelon's people and the real world. The present didn't exist, as if the country was cut out from time. It bothered Jenk to no end because it only meant that they were all the more ignorant of politics, even in their own country.

Somehow, Jenk always felt something akin to peacefulness when he watched the old films. It gave him the strength to go back to the grey world.

It was strange how he could never get used to it, walking down the streets. He had always stood out, in the colorless, his golden hair seamed to shine brighter. Also, his eyes were paler than anyone else's. He had stopped trying to disguise his extraordinary features long ago. He had wanted to be different while being in the crowds. Contradiction had always been his way of being clear.

As he climbed the stairs to his little apartment, his eyes fell on the door of apartment 35. This was where the kid used to live. It seamed the kid took care of himself for he never saw another person leave or enter the humble shack. It would be all the easier. Jenk had dreaded to inform a mother of her child's death. Fathers never stayed with their wives and children these days. They were either fighting a war somewhere or trying to find a job. But they were no more jobs, so the men never came back to their families, they were too ashamed to.

Was that what happened to his father? Jenk only shook his head and continued his climb. He unlocked his door and entered his home and made himself some tea to clear his mind. He should have been happy. After all, he had managed to become a trustworthy member of the party leader, Jishad. How long had he been planning this, how long had he been waiting for the perfect occasion? Maybe for too long, or was he only too eager?

Killing the twelve-year-old made him think of his own youth. It seamed like decades ago though he was only twenty-six. As a youngster he had nourished rebellious thoughts, most of then featuring a massacred president drowned in the blood-stained sheets of a ridiculously massive bed.

He had always been fascinated with murder. Having grown up in the great famines times, he had witnessed mothers killing their children to end their suffering, but also the disturbing fights between hungry men. It was as if they had changed back to animals.

He had enrolled himself in the army at thirteen, he was too young, but he was also desperate to get the job. After all, you were fed! That was all that mattered in those days. He had managed to enter as a guard in exchange for… favours to the captain.

Because he distinguished himself with his astonishing aim, he rapidly moved higher in the ranks. All that to get here. And for what purpose? Why, to kill the president, the wretched Jishad of course!

It was only a matter of weeks now. He wanted to accomplish his greatest goal, and that was to dismantle him with a butcher knife, like the ones the widows of east-central used to execute the chickens.

Of course, he knew perfectly well that fantasying about knives and blood wasn't exactly healthy, but he'd be damned if anyone could find just one totally sane person in Freelon.

----

Life continued normally. Days after Days after Days, Jenk escorted Jishad everywhere. He had become his personal body guard. Seconds passed like years for the soldier, now every moment of his life was spent with his nemesis. Gone were the Sundays of blissful peace, gone were the smell of over-cooked pasta and rancid fish.

Now, it was all replaced by empire boudoirs, scotch and the smell of aftershave and eau-de-cologne. He felt alternating waves of nausea and migraines.

Of course, since he was following the president all the time, he got to hear and see all his conspiring. It only proved his suspicions right and made his hate increase by tenfold.

But he knew that tonight it would finally end.

He would be alone with the dictator for a whole night. He had his knife ready and his rifle, just in case things got out of hand with the other guards.

After the party Jishad was attending, Jenk nearly dragged him to his room. The politician was far too drunk to notice anything but it seamed all the alcohol instantly evaporated from his blood when he saw the rifle of his personal guard pointed at his head. Right between the eyes.

He gaped like a fish for several moments. Staring unbelievingly at the soldier he had come to hold as dear as a son. It was clear now that he really didn't know him after all.

Slowly he met his murderer's eyes. He felt as though he should demand an explanation, though no words escaped his mouth.

"You are a hideous man. A pig. It is only fair that I should threat you as one."

The blond turned slightly to expose the huge knife that rested on his lean thigh. The pig's gaze fell on the knife. His face fell in horror at the death that awaited him.

He closed his eyes tightly. He could not let fear take over his mind. He had been a great warrior at his time, he could still control himself. Just for a little more.

"That is a big knife you have there son, be careful not to hurt yourself"

The pale boy only smiled. It was a sadistic smile, not a nervous one.

"Okay, so you are a big boy. But afterwards……."

"There is no afterwards, at least not for you"

"Oh."

Jishad almost seamed surprised.

"So kill me. What will you do then?"

"…"

"Maybe you'll get pass security, but then what?"

"…"

"Everyone will eventually find out and you'll be tracked down. Also, without any successor, the country's going to be in total chaos. Are you going to maintain order? Are you prepared to completely destroy the way of things? Are you going to be able to sleep with the deaths of thousands of civilians that will perish in the civil war that will ensue?"

Four shots. Two in the chest, one in the eye and the final one blowing his head. Jenk had unconsciously followed the pattern of the revolutionaries. So much for the blood all over the sheets and the members scattered across the room.

With a heavy sigh he left the great manor and headed to his flat. But his footsteps led him to door number 35. He turned the doorknob and entered. Not the least surprised by all the people in the little apartment. Without really searching for it, he had found the anti-governmental group. All the heads were turned towards him as he stepped to the middle of the over-crowded living-room.

"I just killed Jishad, I just killed the pig!"

The eyes widened and so did the mouths. In mere seconds all were dancing and singing like it was their last night on earth. All the joy and energy only exhausted Jenk more as he nearly fell asleep standing.

A rather boyish girl led him to the bedroom that had been transformed into a real dormitory.

"Hey boy, you can sleep right there! And don't worry, if what you say is true, I'll be watching over you me self!"

Somehow, the maniacal smile with all its pointy teeth did nothing to reassure the now exhausted soldier. But it had been a very long day and he fell asleep instantly.