Ready, Aim, Fire

by johannespunkt

Lights, camera, action.

Lights. His pupils shrink and sweat beads start forming on his forehead, crawling their way out of all the make-up. Camera. He’s aware that this will be shown on every TV-screen for hundreds of miles, even if, especially if, he fucks up. They’ve only got one take. Lights, camera – people are making gestures, getting everything in order. There are millions in this for him. He’s holding his breath even though that’s a bad habit. Lights. His fingers drum on the AK47 held behind his back. Camera. He’s wearing someone else’s face. What is taking so long?