Barrel of a Gun

Barrel of a Gun

She ran her hands delicately over the barrel of the gun, admiring the feel of the smooth metal under her hands. It fit her hands perfectly, molded as if it had always been there. The touch of it sent thrills down her spine and made her shiver with anticipation.

She preferred to kill with a gun.

It inspired so much more fear than any other weapon, especially when brandished in the face of a Muggle. Not every Muggle believed in magic, but they all understood what a gun meant.

There is only one use for a gun - to kill.

Guns were scorned by her kind. They were Muggle items, they said, nothing but filth. A true pureblood would never even touch the accursed item. But Daphne didn't care. She was fond of the Muggle items - it was, she thought wryly, a way of killing the fools using their own creation. Let them pay for the errors of their kind. They created guns to kill, so therefore, it was only fitting that they were to be killed in the same manner.

She laughed at the irony of it.

And she laughed as she pointed it, with a practiced hand, at their heart. She laughed as they pleaded with her to spare their lives and she laughed as they slumped over dead, fear on their faces and blood staining the floor.

Blood. Dirty, filthy, rotten blood stained the floors of a home contaminated with Muggle ideas and inventions. One shot from her precious gun and their blood would spill and their lives would fade, leaving one less problem in the world.

It was easy to kill them, really. One shot was all it took - sometimes two. One shot and she would watch them bleed, their souls already beginning the descent into hell where they belonged. To hell where they would writhe in pain and be tortured for all the sins their kind produced. They deserved their fate and had she a flaming sword, she still would strike them down unmercifully, watching in glee as they perished.

Wands and magic couldn't create the kind of effect that a gun could. They were quicker, no doubt, but one could always trace the spell back to the wand. You couldn't do that with a gun. The fools at the Ministry knew nothing about her treasured weapon and she wanted to keep it that way. They didn't even know what a gun was. But they did know that is was used to kill.

Oh, yes, they knew that much.

Everyone she met knew that much. She had made the message clear. Wands are used for both good and evil, but her treasure was used only for evil. There was no other use - only to create crimson pools of blood. And Daphne liked blood. Oh, how she liked her precious, pure blood.

Her mother never understood Daphne's fascination with blood. Or with guns, for that matter. She had told Daphne that she would never find a suitable husband if she kept her silly act up. Her mother, an aristocratic snob, was more concerned with introducing Daphne into high society than she was with ridding the world of filth. Unfortunately her mother didn't live long enough to see her daughter make a mark on the world - she died by a bullet to her brain.

Pity.

Very few actually understood her obsession. It had started when she was eight years old and her father had taught her how to shoot a pistol. He had claimed that it would build character, and indeed, it did. He had died during her fifth year at Hogwarts, however, and two days after his funeral she had slipped into his room to grab his pistols, lest they be thrown out. She had used them ever since.

And ever since her fifth year at school everyone she came in contact with would agree that she was an expert with her weapon of choice. Practice had made her perfect and her hand was more talented with a gun in it rather than with a wand. It was her chosen forte and she'd be damned if anyone could surpass her in it.

She ran her pale hands over her gun again, hoping that it would be of much use tonight. She glanced at the small home she had apparated in front of and sneered, knowing that the inhabitants inside had no chance. They were doomed the moment she stepped inside. Her dark eyes glinting, she started forwards, the click of her boots meeting the pavement the only sound in audible.

She opened the door with a soft Alohomora and slid inside, looking around her surroundings with indifference. She spotted a light in a room to her far right and she made for it when a voice stopped her.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?"

She turned to find a tall, sandy haired man scowling at her, with his wand pointed at her heart. She raised an eyebrow, a grin creeping over her lips. "Don't make me kill you without a fight. It's always so uninteresting when I'm forced to just shoot you."

The man opened his lips, either to respond or to shout a curse, neither of which Daphne cared to find out. With a short "very well", she had pulled her pistol into view, and almost carelessly, aimed and shot.

There was a commotion in the other room at the gunshot and Daphne could hear surprised voices and the clatter of cutlery. She smirked and simply waited, inspecting her gun, listening to the rush of footsteps entering the room. She raised her eyes to see a petite blonde woman, her eyes widened in shock and her hand covering her mouth, as if to restrain the scream that Daphne knew was waiting to be uttered. Behind her two small children, a blonde girl and a brown haired boy, were staring at the corpse of their father in horror. The girl had already started to cry.

Daphne threw her a withering glare. "Stop your tears, you little brat."

The girl immediately quieted, and moved to hide behind her mother. The mother's eyes traveled from her husband's corpse, to Daphne, and then to the gun in Daphne's hand. She looked at Daphne with dawning realization and she backed away, shaking her head. "No, no....please, not my children..."

Daphne raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Your children have the same tainted blood that you have, therefore they must suffer the same fate."

"But they're only children!"

"They're filth," Daphne spat angrily. "All filth deserves the same treatment."

She pointed the gun at the woman's face, aiming directly between her eyes. Behind her, the two little brats simpered, clutching each other in fear.

"Please, have mercy..." she whimpered, "Take me instead of my children. Please, have mercy."

"Shut up, you filthy Mudblood!" Daphne demanded, striking her across the face. The woman stumbled backwards, landing on the floor, a large red mark appearing on her cheek. Behind her Daphne heard one of the children let out a moan of fear.

She turned to look at the children huddled together by the wall, their faces red and swollen from crying. She stared at them for a moment, her mouth finally curving into a sadistic grin as she aimed her pistol at the children. She heard a shriek behind her and she twisted so that she could glare at the mother, all the while keeping her gun firmly positioned on the two frightened children.

"Silence!" She hissed, her eyes flashing angrily.

The woman's cries lessened, silent sobs raking her body. "Not my babies, please, not my babies."

"Listen, you silly bitch, I'm about to make you a proposition." She watched in sadistic glee as the woman looked up, a faint glimmer of hope appearing in her eyes. "If you can hold back your tears, I'll stop and never bother you again. But, if you let even one tear slip from that filthy eye of yours, I'll kill you all. Understand?"

The woman nodded and Daphne smiled. She repositioned her arm, keeping her eyes on the mother, and fired. Behind her she could hear one of the children - she supposed it was the blonde one - scream. The mother's eyes widened in shock and she made a movement to get up.

"Stay where you are," Daphne commanded. "No movement, no tears."

She turned to look at the children and was satisfied to see that her bullet had hit the girl directly in the shoulder and that she was bleeding profusely. Her clothing was stained crimson and she was clutching her arm in agony, tears streaming down her face. Her brother was looking at her in horror, backing away slowly.

Daphne grinned and aimed at the boy. The bullet landed in his leg and she watched as he fell onto the floor, clutching his injured leg. She stroked the barrel of her gun, her eyes dancing maliciously.

She moved towards the girl and grabbed her roughly by her injured arm, relishing in the feel of the warm blood smearing her hand. She dragged her over to the mother, giving her a good view of her injured daughter.

"Now look, my princess, your mother is crying." Daphne said softly, feeling the girl shudder with a mixture of both pain and fear. "I told her not to cry, but she is. She is crying because you are going to die. She has failed you, and in failing you, she has killed you."

With a grin, she pushed the frightened child away from her and turned once more to face the mother. Daphne glanced at her and shook her head in mock sadness.

"Now, now. What did I tell you about crying? Was it that hard to restrain those filthy, tainted tears of yours?" She bent down, on eye level with her. She placed a finger, stained red from the blood of the woman's daughter, on her cheek and traced the path of the sole tear that had fallen. A faint red trail now cascaded down the woman's cheek.

Daphne smirked. "Oh, you foolish Mudblood. Why do you taint my Earth? Why did the Gods create you only to see you be killed? You seem to think my actions unjust, but you do not realize that your very soul in unjust. It taints a world which could be perfect, with no flaw visible to human eye. Your kind have ruined it."

She stood up, and for a few moments regarded the woman almost thoughtfully. And then she graced the woman with another cruel smile, before turning towards the two injured children, who were trying their best, although in vain, to limp away. Daphne raised her pistol, and ignoring the screams of the children and the protests of the mother behind her, shot each of the children through the heart. She watched, satisfied, as the two small bodies slumped over, one on top of the other. She stepped forwards, the tips of her boots coated in blood, and spit on the corpses.

The heavy sobs of the mother reached her ears and she groaned in disgust. She whirled about, her hair flying in her face, the epitome of loathing gracing her features. She aimed and shot the woman in the stomach, immediately ceasing the sobs. "You bitch. I told you not to cry and here I find you sobbing your bloody brains out. Yes, your beloved husband and brats are gone - on their way to hell, no doubt, where the rest of the filth from this world resides. You will join them shortly.'

She leaned down, the ends of her hair dancing over the streams of blood on the woman's stomach. Then softly, enunciating every word so that she was heard, she spoke once more:

"Let the day perish wherein you were born."

Her decree announced, she straightened and aimed one last shot at the woman's heart. She waited calmly until the last glimmer of life faded away from her victim's eyes. She kicked the corpse with her foot to ensure it was truly dead and then proceeded to step over the body to make her way out the door.

She kicked open the door, letting the cool October wind blow through her dark and faintly bloodstained curls. Her eyes glinted as she opened the pistol's clip, letting the empty shells fall with a clatter to the floor of the house. She ran her hands appreciatively over the gun and pocketed it with a smile.

There were many more dates to be had with her gun tonight.