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Duela sat at her desk, muttering incoherent syllable after incoherent syllable, caught up in her own world. The surface of the old wooden desk was littered with used needles, a half empty glass bottle of Bacardi, and a metallic canteen, filled to the brim with strychnine sulphate. 

Her latest project, a long wooden pole, wound in barbed wire, with a rusted sickle fastened to the end of it, stretched out in front of her, with Duela adding the finishing touches to her weapon, by fusing everything together with the random bits of junk she had managed to scavenge from the local skip. 

Her phone-a pay-as-you-go Nokia that looked older than god, and served simply as a disposable means of communication-started beeping at her, pulling her out of la la land, and informing her that she needed to be on her way. 

Duela snatched up her navy green superdry jacket and white silk scarf off of the back of her chair, flinging them on in a flurry of fluid movements, before making her way out of the apartment, locking the door behind her. 

The air was cold and frigid, covering her flesh in gooseprickles, and a light breeze sent her jacket billowing back behind her. Despite the chilly temperature, bright golden rays broke through the sky above, bathing the scenery in a wash of white light. 

The walk to Pedro’s coffee shop was a brisk one, the background textured with the hustle and bustle of the pedestrians and cars that shambled past, and soon Duela had made her way down the grimy pavement, and had arrived at her destination, silk scarf pulled tightly over her mouth.

Society tended to poorly view those who sort to conceal their appearances when entering shops, but Duela was a regular at this particular establishment, and the occupants had little to no desire to see her scarred likeness, so they made no complaints about the fact that she chose to disguise herself. 

The queue was pleasantly short, and the woman working behind the counter knew Duela ‘s usual order, so before long she was sitting comfortably in a plush chair, with a medium hot chocolate gripped tightly in one hand, lowering her scarf now and then, in order to take tentative sips of her drink. 

She was leisurely awaiting the arrival of a similarly aged teenage boy, and before her drink was half finished he had found his way into the coffee shop, and joined her at her table. 

“Hi!” Ralph greeted her with a broad grin plastered across his spotty face, dark fringe covering his piggy eyes, as he slumped heavily in the chair opposite her. 

She returned his greeting with an affectionate smirk, her white scarf now hanging loosely around her neck. 

One of the many unfortunate downsides of her distinctive face was that it made it exceptionally hard for her to go about the place unnoticed, as everyone always remember the girl who looked like she’d been dragged backwards through a meat grinder. To combat this, Duela had begun branching out in the world, desperately searching for people that she could manipulate and bend to her will, pawns for her to move about the board. 

She had found Ralph being beaten up by a bunch of trolls outside of some nightclub, whilst she was foraging in a dumpster for spare parts, and by managing to get the jump on them with her butcher’s knife she had ultimately saved the young boy from whatever fate awaited him. 

Apparently watching her kick the shit out of some thugs had been a massive aphrodisiac, as Ralph had been smitten with her ever since, and was seemingly prepared to do anything for her. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” She queered, gazing at him with mock fondness, fuelled by thoughts of all the wonderful things that she could get Ralph to do at her beck and call. 

“I’m fine, thanks.” He said with a genuine smile, his cheeks slightly flushed as the pair made eye contact. 

Duela giggled lightly. It was nice to know that [i]someone [/i] found her attractive. 

 “So, are you ready, Hun?” 

“I was born ready.” He remarked, only half joking. Then he leaned in close, and lowered his voice to little more than a hushed whisper. “I can’t wait to light the [i]fuckers [/i] up.” 

Ralph had been the victim of bullying for the entirety of his brief life, picked on for being the chubby spotty kid, and as such had grown to detest school, and had developed a seething animosity for his peers. 

It had been more than easy to coax him into doing what she wanted. 

“Just drop your bag off near the front of the bus, and then you’ll be fine.” She lied effortlessly, in that same hushed whisper. 

“And then we’ll be together?” [i]You’ll bed dead, you fucking idiot[/i] She mused inwardly. 

“And then we’ll be together.” She assured him. In truth he repulsed her-his body was covered in rolls of fat and he was and spotty and ugly-, and he was little more than a means to an end, a method by which she could achieve her next objective. 

 “I’ve calculated everything precisely; just make sure you’re at the back of the bus, and then you’ll be well out of harm’s way.” 

That seemed to convince him. They spent the rest of the day chatting pleasantly in Pedro’s coffee shop, with Duela counting the seconds until she was rid of him. 

[centre]*[/centre]

The school was buzzing with life, like an ant hill on a summer’s day, with students, parents, and teachers swarming in through the front gates-one massive horde of bodies pressed tightly together-.

Duela lulled nonchalantly about, concealed by the blanket of shadows that enveloped the alleyway which ran parallel to the school. 

She leaned casually against one sturdy brick wall, keeping both eyes fixed firmly on the front gates. One hand was stuffed into her coat pocket, cradling what looked like the remote control for one of those keyless cars. 

The arrival of the school bus sent her springing to life, a warm sensation flooding her stomach as she watched the big yellow vehicle with its grubby windows and round tires come rolling slowly up to the front gates, decreasing in pace as it neared the crowd of people that was still flooding into school. 

A wide grin spread from one corner of her face to the other, as a single skeletal finger pressed down on the remote detonator’s little black button. 

There was a brief pause as it took the signal a moment to travel from her to the semtex/fertiliser combo that was stashed in Ralph’s backpack. 

Suddenly, the school bus erupted in a glorious roar of crimson flames, the explosion blowing out the glass windows, and sending huge metal splinters flying in every direction. The back doors were blown off by the sheer force of the detonation, screeching across the floor with a trail of bright red sparks leaking behind them. Debris rained down upon the unsuspecting victims of the explosion, as body-sized chunks of the vehicle were sent spiralling across the courtyard. 

Screaming rang out, as chaos ensued, with those who had managed to avoid the blast clambering all over each over in order to simply escape the scene of the explosion. 

By the time the blast zone was empty, all that remained of the school bus was a burnt out husk of blackened metal, licked with waves of crimson fire that shimmered in the wind. 

A plethora of blackened corpses criss-crossed the school’s courtyard, littering the concrete floor.