Bells. There's just something about the way they tinkle and ring that just.. I don't know, annoy me. Whether it's church bells (I've never been that religious anyway) or ice-cream bells (those little brass things they shake to part your money from you faster than you can say "uncle"), I've always hated their sound.

Especially rotten, stinking school bells.

Don't get me wrong, I'm no scrooge - wait till you've seen just how kids stare at me. It's not like I dress like a hobo or anything, but.. someone's gotta teach kids some respect someday soon, you know?

The only reason I'm here at this decrepit building complex where younglings get their supposed "education" is because I've arranged a meeting with an old friend. It took me awhile to find her, but no one hides forever. Not these people, anyway.

Mrs Nance, F.I. had been Principal of this school for quite some years now. It's amazing how no one, not even a single inquisitive student, has ever delved deeper into her past to see what she'd been doing before she was made Principal. Of course, they don't know her as Mrs Nance here, but that's another matter entirely.

Judging from my "death" sometime back, I'd say she's been keeping on her toes. She'll definitely be expecting me to arrive at her doorstep and blow her brains out all over her academic degrees and files. Not that I'd mind the mess. It's not like I've to clean up afterwards anyway.

So it was a clear sunny day when I finally showed up to kill the next one on my list. The school was empty.. funny, I always thought nerd-types hang out in the library after classes to do - whatever it is they're supposed to do. Like study.

Anyway, so there I was at the Principal's office.. and this weird feeling of deja vu just hit me there. I was eight then.. sitting outside an office not unlike this one. I'd hit a boy three years my senior in the face, breaking two of his teeth and leaving him a black eye.

"Hello grandma. Not quite the welcome I expected, anyhow."

Of course, back then he was the chief bully of the school. I suspected that fight garnered me more than just the twelve strokes of the cane on my bare backside - like fame among the girls my age. Or infamy, whatever.

I don't know what startled me out of my reverie, but I woke to find myself falling as the door in front of me blew apart into a million flying pieces of deadly glass shrapnel and wooden splinters. In an instant everything slowed down to the point where I could see the sunlight sparkle off each individual shard.. or maybe I was still stuck in a dream.

Instinct compelled me to duck and roll away from the shattered door, and with good timing; instantly huge chunks were torn out of the walls toward my direction. As I struggled to maintain my balance, I got to my hands and knees to look at my assailant. A maternal-looking grey-haired lady in a floral blouse came striding out of the room, carrying a high-powered M16 assault rifle in her hands. She turned to stare disdainfully at me.

"Hello you," she spoke, voice dripping with malice.

"Hello grandma. Not quite the welcome I expected, anyhow."

"Well, would you prefer to be garroted to death instead? I've got spare piano wire in my desk drawer."

"Nah, guess not.. traditional doesn't suit me as well as it does you." A smirk.

She fumed and glowered, "You have no business coming here to my school!"

Neither did you have any business sending psycho freaks after my ass, I thought miserably, but I didn't tell her that. I smiled instead. The effect on people is instantaneous, usually. People pulling their children behind them, or walking the other way. Not grandma though. She had a heart of stone - come to think of it, I think her face is chiseled out of it too.

She didn't even flinch. She snickered and said, "You have the smile of your father." I saw her finger squeeze the trigger a little. I didn't want to take the risk (no, I didn't chicken out), so I jumped - and we traded bullets across the hall.

I wished there and then I'd packed some more powerful gear with me. Nothing beats the M16's steady rat-a-tat gunning across a limited expanse in which to move around. Especially if you're the one being shot at. No matter how cool I thought I looked using two handguns, I'd happily trade 'em for an M16 - just for today.

I paused to catch my breath around some smelly lockers. Grandma sure was fit despite being in her seventies. I don't think forcing her into a wheelchair could dampen that insane killing spirit. Which was too bad.

..I don't care, let the real janitor clean that up..

Chancing a glance towards the corridor, I saw spent bullet casings and gaping holes but no grandma. I heard footsteps coming closer. I turned back to make sure my breath was there, then lunged from cover and fired two shots.

But by the time the body hit the floor I realized the janitor wasn't gonna like what he sees when he comes to. I mean, if he does come to - I'd shot the poor bloke by accident.

I went up to him to see if he was alright. As I knelt to check for a pulse, the bastard got up immediately - and lodged a knife in my good foot. As I screamed he turned tail and ran.. I brought my hands up and popped a few slugs into his upper torso, dropping him again.

Now I remember why I hate school besides the friggin' bells! Tugging the knife free I threw it furiously aside and limped to the body. He was still trying to crawl away as he moaned piteously, trying to turn his head to look at me. I didn't give him the luxury. Three bullets in his skull, there and then. I don't care, let the real janitor clean that up.

Outside a car revved and sped off hurriedly. I'd ran/limped outside just in time to see grandma drive off in my car. I sat down for a very long time to do nothing but swear.

Looks like grandma had gotten away. Never mind. I've just got one more loose end to tie down before I can live a free man. One more: a happy father-son reunion before I was free..