Project Halo Part III

A Story by Kristopher

The third installment of Project Halo.

“I’ve only been in this crazed ‘training program’ for a few months and I’m still being used a test subject. Great…”

CAMERON PALMED THE gun in his hand and aimed at the target. The bullet grazed the target and the second ripped through its center.

“Bull’s-eye,” he said. He lowered the gun and waited for the training session to end. When it didn’t he spun around to demand why the session wasn’t over—only to have a bullet smack into his chest. He staggered back, shocked into silence.

“No, that’s my name,” a pale man walked into the room and chuckled. He holstered the gun he held in his hand. “You might want to clean yourself up, kid.”

Cameron glared at the man and pulled a syringe from his pocket and bit the cap off. Without hesitating he stabbed the needle into the bullet wound.

“How do the surgeons know this serum will even work?” Cameron asked.

Bull’s-eye shrugged. “They don’t.”

“Great, so I’m an even bigger experiment,” Saint swore.

“Basically,” Bull’s-eye muttered in agreement.

“How long do I have until this serum kicks in?” Cameron asked.

“You’ll be fine,” Bull’s-eye told him.

“How long do I have?” Cameron demanded.

“24 hours,” Bull’s-eye answered. “If your heart’s still beating by the 25^th hour then you’re fine,” he added.

Cameron threw the syringe to the floor. “So, is the session over?”

Bull’s-eye smiled at him like he had a secret. “The session is over…” he nodded at the bullet wound in his chest that still dripped blood. “But the one you have now isn’t over until your 25 hours are up. Good luck, kid.”

“I don’t believe in luck,” Cameron said.

Bull’s-eye glanced at him. “I’ve been in this business for five years, kid. Five f*****g years. I’ve been tortured, beaten, and shot at.”

“Yeah, and you’re alive,” Cameron said.

“It’s all because of luck, Saint. Good luck brought me through. Hell, it’ll bring you through, too.”

“Luck isn’t going to get me anywhere if I’m dead, Bull’s-eye.”

Bull’s-eye’s hand twitched and an earsplitting bam cut through the silence. Cameron screamed as the bullet knifed through his leg.

“Damn it, Bull’s-eye!” Cameron shouted. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Nothing,” the assassin said. “You were just pissing me off.” The assassin smiled a knowing smile, one that made Cameron shudder, and walked toward the exit. “Remember, Kid. Twenty-five hours.”

Cameron stared after him, not even bothering to clean up the blood that was dripping onto the floor. “You shot me because I was pissing you off?!” he shouted.

The other assassin made no comment as he holstered his gun and disappeared from view.

“So what do you want me to do, Bull’s-eye?” Cameron screamed after him, rushing into the hallway.

“What do you think I want you to do, Kid?” Bull’s-eye asked from behind. “I want you to live.”

Cameron frowned at the reply. Bull’s-eye wanted him to live? Well someone at this godforsaken compound wanted him dead, he was intent on discovering who.