Take him

As Ramson drove his weapon forward, plunging it deep into Peter's flesh, the world around them seemed to go utterly silent. The sound of Peter's choked gasp caught in his throat, the sensation of the weapon tearing through his skin, the scent of iron-rich blood flooding the air, all of it faded away into a void of stillness.

Ramson's eyes remained fixed on his victim's face, watching as the colour slowly drained from his cheeks and his eyes rolled back in agony. For a moment, the two men were frozen in time, locked in a gruesome dance of violence and death.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Ramson withdrew his weapon, and Peter collapsed to the ground, his body crumpling like a rag doll. The silence persisted, broken only by the soft thud of the body hitting the earth.

Ramson stood over his fallen foe, breathing heavily, his weapon slick with blood. In the aftermath of the brutal act, he felt a strange sense of emptiness, as though the silence that had descended